The Admirer's Secret

by Crane, Pamela

  “What’s that supposed to mean—that Marc doesn’t love me back?”

  “You want to throw your future away for some guy who will hold you down, who will trample your heart.”

  “Excuse me?” That he would imply Marc’s disloyalty infuriated her.

  “Look, you’ve made your choice. I don’t want to part on bad terms. I just think you’re making a mistake, that’s all. But mark my words. He will end up hurting you, and you’ll end up with nothing.”

  Not only did Allen already cross the line, but he was drawing a whole new one and leaping over it. That line was so far behind him it was now a dot. If he had been in front her of, she knew her hand would have left a mark on his face for that. Her index finger hovered over the “end” button to hang up on him. But she simply couldn’t do it. She didn’t want to burn bridges with Allen.

  “Then it’s my mistake to make. Look, I need to go. I have a lot going on tonight. Good luck, and have a nice flight.” She waited for his response, and when none was forthcoming, she ended it. “Guess I’ll just say good-bye for the both of us then.”

  “Wait.” Allen’s urgent tone stopped her short. “If you don’t come with me, I promise that you will regret your decision for the rest of your life. He’s not worth your sacrificing everything. I can’t let you reject my offer. Just take tonight to think about it. If by tomorrow you feel the same, then we can part in peace. Though trust me when I say I know what’s best.”

  What did Allen know? He was a divorcee with no family and, from what Haley expected after this whole conversation, no real friends. Why should she care what he said? She didn’t, she decided. “I’ll just have to find out for myself what’s best for me.”

  “Haley, I’m warning you.”

  “There’s nothing more to say.”

  “I’ll have the last say, I assure you.”

  “You can’t change my mind. It’s over. I have to follow my heart. Thanks for everything, Allen. Good-bye.”

  And she hung up.

  “Well, guess that’s over with. I think he took it quite well,” she mumbled to herself, easing her rattled nerves and mentally moving on. She could worry the rest of the night about Allen’s threat and ruin a perfectly good day, or pretend it never happened.

  Mental delete.

  There. It never happened.

  After dropping her phone into her purse, she patted the camera bag at her side. Time to finish the last part of Marc’s gift that she planned to give him tonight after the Ice Festival.

  The phone call gave her defroster time to clear her windshield of the frozen snow, so one, two, three wipes of her blades emptied the remaining wetness off the side of the glass. Minutes later, she was cruising down Main Street heading to her favorite spot.

  Today, though it was dark by the time she got there, she tiptoed softly to her special wooded haven. Normally she wouldn’t have spent the effort soft-footing it, but something was different this time. She shrugged off the ominous feeling and crouched into position. The camera was wedged tightly in its holder, so it took an extra tug to free it from the confines of the case. Pocketknife ready, she removed the cover from the lens and took aim.

  A half-dozen preparatory snaps of frosted tree limbs glistening in the moonlight and white-capped waves soothed her nerves. It felt good to be alone in nature, watching the world through the eye of her camera lens. Though the privacy and serenity didn’t answer her questions or solve her dilemmas, it was the perfect patch for pre-date nerves.

  When connecting with nature, time was elusive. Haley noticed how dark it was, too dark to see the face of her watch, which was probably edging toward seven o’clock. She still had to change her clothes and rid herself of any woodsy smell clinging to her body. One last picture before it was time to go.

  As she stood up and brought the camera to her eye, a twig snapped sharply behind her, jarring her focus from the image. She whirled around, searching for the source of the noise. First she scanned the ground for a small animal, but the blackness of the dense woods hid anything that could be lurking within.

  Haley exhaled a nervous sigh and reached for her camera case. It was time to go. Another crack split the silence and Haley strained to listen. Nothing. As she placed the camera in the case, another twig snapped nearby. Probably nothing but a rabbit, she told herself. But the sound now was of footsteps approaching as dry leaves crackled underfoot.

  She spun around, her eyes attempting to pierce the gloom more frantically this time. The sound seemed heavier, which meant that whatever approached was larger than she originally thought. A rabbit might rustle leaves, but break a limb? And deer typically didn’t approach people, so that narrowed down her list a bit to coyotes, wolves, or perhaps an errant bear.

  The dense overhang of branches filtered most of the moonlight, giving her little visibility. She strained her ears for breathing, but all she heard was her own heart thumping against her chest.

  And then she heard something. A set of lungs, not her own, breathing out of rhythm with hers. Or was it a different sound… not breathing, but a low rumble.

  “Go! Get! Shoo!” she finally screamed, hoping to scare whatever it was away.

  She waited, listening. She heard no movement, nothing. Then something. The low humming returned. No, it was more like a growl. Definitely a growl. A loud enough, deep enough growl that she knew it was no friendly animal. And it sounded hungry, whatever it was. Her mind raced through possible scenarios—there weren’t large man-eating cats in these parts… that she knew of. So what could be making a noise like that?

  Oh no… I’m not going to make it out of here alive, am I?

  Chapter 28

  Marc simultaneously rapped on the door and rung the doorbell, hoping the combination would somehow work a miracle after knocking and pacing outside for nearly eight minutes already.

  “Where are you?” he mumbled as he closed the storm door before retreating. It rattled back at him.

  He walked through snow-dusted mulch along the front of the house. Cupping his hands over his eyes, Marc peered into the living room window through the open blinds. Only a kitchen lamp was on; probably a lamp she always left on at night.

  Though he had been habitually early, it was only by fifteen minutes. And as the minutes ticked down, it was closing in on their agreed upon time.

  She’s a woman; shouldn’t she be upstairs in her bathroom primping herself by now? Not running around town doing who-knows-what and being late for our date. He hoped it was okay to call it that.

  He walked down the pathway toward the garage and peered inside for any sign of her. Nothing. The garage was empty, the house showed no remnant of life, and they only had fifteen—no, six minutes now—before he was supposed to pick her up. Was he being unofficially blown off?

  Tired of waiting it out in the cold, he returned to his car, started it, and cranked up the heat. He turned on the radio and was met by the twang of country music. It was a love song he had heard hundreds of times, so he clicked it back off. He needed silence to think. And he needed warmth to thaw his feet.

  Though he had worn an extra pair of socks tonight to keep his feet comfortable while outdoors at the Ice Festival, it hadn’t occurred to him that the extra layer left no wiggle room in his shoes to generate heat. While hoping that she’d show up and invite him inside so he could take a brief refuge from the cold, Marc blasted the lukewarm vented air onto the floor.

  Minutes passed. Marc’s impatience was mounting. The dashboard clock—perpetually an hour behind due to Marc’s forgetfulness at each cycle of daylight savings time—showed that she was now officially late, but he wasn’t quite ready to wave the white flag of surrender. He had a feeling that something had happened, like getting held up, and she’d eventually show. Perhaps she couldn’t get to a phone to call him. Either way, he was willing to wait it out… just a little longer. With two options to pick from, he could stick around waiting in his still lukewarm F-150 hoping that she’d show, or go home and sav
e face if indeed she was trying to avoid him for some unknown reason.

  He chose neither.

  Marc’s toes were too cold to wait it out with a malfunctioning radiator. And if she had indeed changed her mind about their plans, there was no way he was letting her get out of it without a face-to-face explanation.

  Putting the car in reverse, he rolled out of the driveway and aimed his car toward the center of town. There was a local corner store down the street where he could pick up some gum—a guy never knew when he might need it on a date—and he’d loiter there with the owner, an old buddy of his, before coming back. Maybe she’d turn up by then. With the neon sign of the convenience store announcing its “open” status up ahead, Marc checked the dash once more. Thirty minutes. He’d give her thirty more minutes.

  Chapter 29

  The throaty grumbling grew into predatory snarling. Haley blindly backed up, slowly increasing the distance between predator and prey. The animal stepped forward, matching her steady pace. The last step put the animal directly into a patch of pale moonlight that had managed to glide through the branches of coniferous overhang. Fear-invoked tunnel vision permitted Haley to see nothing but sharp white fangs glistening with slobber at the end of a scrunched nose. The animal’s large eyes feasted on her, and though the animal’s coat was long and thick, Haley imagined the hair was standing straight up on its back. The animal crouched in attack mode and no “here, doggy, doggy” was going to work on this beast.

  Her mind fast-forwarded to the scene where her lifeless body was being ravaged and torn apart by long canine teeth. And she imagined her own vain attempts at stopping it. Haley’s mind raced for another solution. Was it dogs or bears that would eventually leave if one stood perfectly still? Or was that a mountain lion? Or was she supposed to lie down and play dead? If only she had paid attention to her dad’s lectures on outdoor survival fifteen years ago! But she had considered it pointless, useless Boy Scout knowledge, letting it slip in one ear and out the other.

  Regardless of what it was, she had to increase the distance between her and this hungry animal, because it was inching closer. And one thing she did remember: many animals traveled in packs. Where there was one, there would probably be more. So she needed to take action now. Or never. She could either stand perfectly still and pray that the animal would miraculously lose interest, or take off and hope she could outrun it. She chose the latter.

  Forgetting all wilderness survival tips she might have accumulated over the years, she didn’t look back to see if the dog was tailing her. By the time she reached her car, she was exhausted and out of breath. Adrenaline delivered the one last ounce of energy she needed to thrust her car door open, jump in, and slam the door shut, enclosing her in the sanctuary of her vehicle. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the headrest while sucking in gulps of air. Those carnivorous fangs flashed through her head; the past few seconds replayed in her imagination, only her menacing mind unfolded an alternate ending: the animal attacked and enjoyed a meal from her meaty limbs. Quickly popping her eyes open, she willed the thoughts away.

  “I’m safe. I’m in one piece. Everything is okay now,” she whispered hoarsely. She checked her door locks anyhow, not that the animal would know how to use a door handle. Though she did once hear of someone’s dog who opened a refrigerator door with ease. Her car doors were locked in case this happened to be one of those animal prodigies.

  Everything in her body felt numb as she fumbled to collect herself. She couldn’t cry, couldn’t think, only breathe labored gasps of stale air that had a thickness from being retained in her car. When she talked herself down from near panic, she realized her fingers still clutched her camera. She was surprised, and thankful, that she hadn’t dropped it mid-flight. She tucked it back into its holder and placed it on the passenger seat beside her. She hadn’t taken all the pictures she wanted, but it was time to get away from here. She’d come back another day to finish.

  Once her heart rate felt like it had returned to as close to normal as possible after a near-death incident, she was stricken with one glaring concern: Marc was waiting for her.

  Then another thought. What if?

  And another. What if the animal had attacked first? What if she had tripped up during her flight and gotten mauled? It wasn’t her mom or Hollywood or Allen that she thought of; she thought of Marc. Nothing else mattered except him.

  The tears finally came, and her body shook with each powerful outburst. She let the salty droplets stream down her cheeks, not caring about the passing traffic, ignoring the cold biting at her toes. She let the emotions boil over until her tear ducts ran dry.

  When the last salty droplet was wiped from her blood-hot cheek, she promised herself that tonight Marc would know the depth of her feelings for him. Her hands still trembled as she peeled away from the curb.

  Chapter 30

  As Marc waited beneath the awning of her covered front porch, he breathed a mixed sigh of relief when he saw several lights burning brightly in stark contrast to the pitch-black winter night. He paced a moment, then stepped up to the plate—really the welcome mat—and knocked. The front door immediately creaked open before he had a chance to step back.

  A beautiful woman greeted Marc with a flustered “hey!” She used her body to block out the cold air. “You’re late, mister.”

  “I was here a little earlier and thought maybe you were going to cancel on me.”

  Her knowing grin implied that she had already figured that.

  “I would never do that, Marc! Long story, though. Pretty crazy stuff. I’ll tell you later.” Looking him over, she continued, “So are you prepping yourself for the Ice Festival by standing out here?”

  He laughed. “Are you kidding? This isn’t cold; it’s refreshing.” A shiver gave away his fib.

  “Come in out of the cold while I grab my coat.”

  “I thought you’d never ask!” He followed her into the house and stood by the door with his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

  “You call this refreshing? You must have polar bear blood in you if you think this is comfortable.” Her coy open-mouthed grin egged Marc on.

  “I suppose I do. Y’know, while I was waiting outside for you, I was wondering why you weren’t here. Then I figured you’d never stand up a prize like me.” He smothered the words with mock sarcasm, then snuck a saucy wink.

  She cocked her head and squinted as her eyes ran up and down his body. “I don’t know about a prize, but you are definitely something.” The game was on, and this woman could dish it out just as much as she could take it.

  “Boy, you go for the throat, don’t you? Won’t even spare a man his dignity…” he pretended to grumble.

  “I guess that’s the humanitarian side of me. Well, I’m all set, so let me get my things and we can head out.”

  “Wow, I was expecting at least an hour for you to get ready while I waited.”

  “Ah, you think you know all about women! Well, be prepared to be shocked. I’m not your typical girl. Though you—you’re starting to sound more typical by the minute, Marc!” She laughed that genuine kind of laugh, the kind that eases all one’s nerves and one can’t help but join in. Something about her made him feel different, like he was in a dream, but also rooted in reality.

  She was incredible, and at times he was afraid that he’d wake up and realize she was nothing more than a figment of his imagination. Just being in her presence was enough for him to want to be a better man. Not that he felt the need to please or impress her, because he had a feeling she could see through men’s fake attempts at charming her. And he guessed that many men tried. No, it was more than that. She brought out the life in him, the electric energy that only love could produce.

  “Did I tell you that you look beautiful tonight?” His impromptu comment left a sweet silence between them. They stood at the front door quietly enjoying being with each other. It wasn’t a flashy or poetic moment, but it contained its own simple perfection in
its honesty.

  “No, you didn’t, but feel free to tell me as much as you want.” She smiled a flirty, pouty smile—a pursed-lip smile that a woman uses to reel a man in, but still keep him at bay. Everything inside him wanted to grab her waist and draw her closer for a kiss. Those soft pink lips were so tempting, so inviting, yet also so lethal to his ego, especially if she objected and pulled away. He decided to start with handholding and see where it went from there.

  A tinge of electricity shot through him as she brushed up against him on her way to the closet to retrieve her coat. He wondered if it was intentional or incidental; either way, it warmed him faster than hot coals and remained with him long after they entered the cold night air.

  “Let me help you with that,” Marc insisted.

  He took the coat from her and guided her around, holding her narrow shoulders while he did so. Any physical contact with her was a rush, even if it was over the clothes and on the shoulders. As he helped her with her black wool coat, he relished the way her eyes traveled over him. The whole time he had been there, her eyes were glued to him and his to her. And that was when he knew—he’d make his move tonight, when the time was right.

  It was a cold night—a perfect night for the festival. The sky was clear with a thousand stars dazzling in the blackness. The moon shone bright, illuminating the streets and casting pale light through bare tree branches. He couldn’t imagine a more ideal night.

  When they arrived at Lake Chautauqua, Marc found a parking spot close to the massive bonfire where a throng of people stood huddling for warmth. Marc enjoyed the distinctive scent of burnt wood as they approached and then joined the crowd. Smoke billowed up into the night while radiation from the orange flames blanketed the surrounding observers with the fierce heat. The blend of too hot and too cold had many of the bystanders turning around in circles, as if they were on a rotisserie, warming each body part in turn. This panorama of young children roasting—and catching fire to—marshmallows, elderly couples holding wrinkled hands, dads piggybacking their kids, and teens clumped together pointing out objects of affection was what life was about.