by Brinda Berry
I press my face to the peephole again so I can take in the full effect of him. He’s really quite overwhelming with his gorgeous eyes framed by long, dark lashes. If eyes are truly the windows to the soul, I wonder what Leo’s say about him.
Passionate. Beautiful. Intense.
Boom. Bababababoom. He bangs on the door, literally making me stumble back a foot and grab my chest. Is he trying to kill me? I return to the peephole and regular breathing.
“Harper. If you don’t answer the door, I’m going down to the bakery and getting Eric’s key. He’ll give it to me.” He glares at the door. Then his gaze moves exactly to the peephole and I slink to the side in one smooth step.
“OK. I’m getting the key,” he says.
I place my hand on the deadbolt and turn the tiny knob. “Just a minute.”
When I open the door, he stands with his arms folded across his chest. “May I come in?”
I shrug and take a step back.
“I knocked last night, but you must’ve been asleep,” he says.
Our eyes meet. He doesn’t believe that and I don’t feel like defending myself. “Did you need something?” I ask. It’s a grand effort to speak the words evenly and detached.
“Why, yes. I did.” He strolls across the room and sits on a barstool. He’s wearing a T-shirt, cargo shorts and is barefoot. I stare at his tan legs, finely sprinkled with hair. I remember the feel of them as they rubbed up and down the length of mine when we lay in bed together the morning after our first time together.
It was more soothing than sexual. An affectionate play with my toes stretching to touch his. His legs capturing mine between his.
“I need a favor.” He tilts his head and gives me a soft smile that reaches his eyes. “Please.”
I want to tell him I’m busy or that I have no desire to do him a favor. He shouldn’t ask me to do anything for him because my poor heart is already pining away enough as it is. No, no, no. He knew that ‘please’ at the end would get to me. “Yes. What do you want me to do?”
He grins. It’s a little boy gleeful grin that makes my chest squeeze like I’m being hugged by a bear. “Great. It may take a while. You don’t have anything to do right now, do you?”
“No.” I eye him suspiciously.
“Change into some old clothes. I’ll be back over in ten minutes.” He glances at my bare feet. I’m still in my sleep shorts and a tank. “You have tennis shoes?”
“Um…yeah. Sure.” I need my head examined by a professional. There has to be a medical term for this.
Yes, it’s insanity. That’s it.
“Wear them.” He hops up from his seat and leaves me staring after him.
True to his word, he returns for me in ten minutes wearing a ballcap and carrying a backpack over one shoulder. I lock up and follow him outside. “Are you going to tell me what you want me to do?”
“I will.” He squints into the sun. “Get in.”
Leo opens the door of his car and runs around to get in. Once inside, he finds a pair of sunglasses in the console. “Here. Wear them.”
“Am I incognito?” I smirk. It’s going to be tough to be grumpy when he’s so cheerful.
He leans forward and slides them onto my face. His fingers casually touch my skin and the contact sears me as if he’s touched some forbidden part of me.
My gasp must’ve been audible, or maybe I flinched. I’m not sure, but the air in the car changes and he looks away.
“We need to hit the road.” He starts the engine and we head out.
I spend my time watching the metro area change to residential and then to country. We drive in silence. No radio. No conversation. Just the sounds of the outside world telling me that life goes on. I imagine it saying that I’ll be okay. Hundreds of people we’ve passed have experienced far worse than I and they are all okay.
We drive underneath a canopy of trees. Horses run in a pasture, edging parallel to a white, board fence that reminds me of a movie scene.
Leo makes right turn onto a private road which only allows one car. From the corner of my eye, he glances over at me. I force myself to look straight ahead.
“Almost there,” he says.
“What is this place?”
“You’ll see.”
“Is there a reason you won’t tell me? Let me guess. This is a body farm.”
“What?” His tone is curious laced with amused. “What are you talking about?”
“I saw it on television and then read a book about it. This is my punishment for not telling the truth. You’re sentencing me to hard labor at The Body Farm. You know. That place where they study how corpses rot.”
He laughs, the sound all deep and throaty, tickling along my ears. “There are no dead bodies here. That place isn’t in Nashville. It’s in Knoxville.”
I smile to myself. The joy in making him laugh is enough to fuel my happiness for a week. I’m pathetic.
We turn down another one-car lane and a lake appears out of nowhere. The bright sun glints off the water. “Hey. What’s this?” I bounce in my seat and the belt strains against my body. I haven’t been to a lake since going out with my dad as a kid.
“This is a secret.” Leo pulls off to the side of the road. “We’ll have to walk the rest.”
There’s no path, but Leo seems to know where he’s going. Someone has bush-hogged the grass so it’s not high and I’m glad I wore tennis shoes. I haven’t really done much outside since walking the dogs at Le Frou Frou’s.
I inhale and put my face up to the heavens. “Okay. Even if this is a body farm, I’m in. It’s great out here.”
The sunlight warms my skin and soul.
“Keep up.” Leo walks around a cluster of bushes and I follow obediently.
Like a desert mirage, a dock and boathouse appear. There are a couple of small fishing boats in a slip at one end. The boathouse is old and worn.
“Who owns this?” I step onto the wooden dock and follow Leo.
“Gunner’s neighbor.”
“We’re trespassing?” The question comes out as more of a squeak than I intended.
“No. The guy doesn’t stick around much and asked my friend Gunner to keep an eye on things. Gun takes care of the horses for him. The guy told Gunner he could fish anytime he wants. He said we could use the fishing supplies.”
Leo leads the way into the unlocked boathouse. Inside, he grabs two fishing rods and a tackle box. There’s a refrigerator in the corner and he opens it and grabs a white Styrofoam container. “Ready?”
I nod and go with him out onto the dock. He places his backpack in the shade of the building, sits at the end of the wooden planks, and takes off his shoes and socks. “Have a seat.” He pats a spot next to him.
The wood dock is at least eight feet wide, plenty of room to sit on opposite ends. Still, it’s silly to sit so far apart that I can’t reach the tackle. I sit a foot from Leo.
“We’re going to fish?” I take my shoes off and let my feet dangle close to the water. I can almost touch it.
Leo opens the tackle box and begins threading a bobber onto the translucent line. “Um hm.”
“Oh.”
He flips the lid of the Styrofoam container up and pulls out a long worm. “Bait your own hook or do I need to do it?”
“I can.” I take the rod and worm from him. “So, what’s this favor?”
He shrugs and gives me a patient look. “I needed a fishing partner.”
“And Gunner or Dane couldn’t?”
“I didn’t ask either of them. I wanted to fish with you.”
I stop breathing for a second and concentrate on the worm’s wiggly body. I cruelly spear him onto the hook. I feel your pain, Mr. Worm. I’m a worm on a hook. He’s baited me.
“Plus,” he says. “I heard it’s your birthday and thought it would be fun.”
“Ah.” I lift my gaze to his, my pulse picking up speed. A lump forms in my throat as his thoughtfulness. “Did Josie tell you?”
He nods and finishes preparing his own rod. “She mentioned it.”
“Well, you didn’t have to do this. I know you have work to do at home. We don’t have to stay.”
“You wouldn’t answer your door last night. You only answered this morning under threats that I’d get a key. And believe me. I would have. Can we at least call a truce for today?”
I shrug and put my thumb on the release button of the reel. I flick the rod back and forward, releasing the button at the perfect time. The line casts out in a beautiful arc and plops into the water.
“Have you ever been horrified and terribly excited at the same time?”
I glance over at him, confused. “No. I don’t know.”
“I’m excited that you actually know how to fish and horrified because I wanted to be better at it than you.”
I giggle. I hate gigglers, for the most part. Giggling isn’t pretty unless it’s done by a five-year-old girl or a ninety-year-old woman. Still, I can’t help myself with Leo. “I’ll teach you how.”
He clucks his tongue. “Over-confident much? Let’s see who catches more fish by lunchtime. We have to release them, but we should keep count.”
“You’re on.” I grin lazily.
“Who taught you to fish?”
“My daddy. It’s been a long time though.”
Leo doesn’t have a bobber on his line. He reels in slowly and finally the fishing lure appears, spinning hypnotically. “My dad taught me to fish, too.”
“And Josie?”
“Oh yeah. She followed me and the guys around everywhere. She didn’t know she was a girl until we graduated high school.”
“Then what happened?”
“I don’t know. We went to different colleges. She figured it out then, I think. Or at least she decided to have a boyfriend during that time.”
“Oh.” I watch my bobber sit on the top of the water. “I wanted to go to college once. I thought I’d make a good nurse.”
“So why didn’t you?” He stops reeling in his line and looks at me.
“I told you. I met Wesley and got married and that was that.”
“Married people attend college.”
I give him an exasperated look. “Some do, I’m sure. Wesley liked for me to stay at home.”
“And you did what Wesley wanted.”
My temper threatens to poke its prairie dog head above ground. “Yes. I lived too far from town and didn’t have a car or a job.”
Leo raises an eyebrow. “Easy there. Only asking.”
“You want to know everything. I can tell. But it’s all behind me and I’m sorry about deceiving you. I’ve said that.”
“Why did you email me as Angel?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes people do stupid things. No one’s called me Angel in years except my parents. Wesley never did. It’s my middle name. I guess I was so mad that I wanted to go back to the innocent time when people called me Angel. But you can never go back. Angel was a kid. Harper is an adult.”
“That makes sense.” One corner of his mouth lifts in encouragement.
I hesitate. “Your turn. Why didn’t you tell me you dated a married woman? You had an affair.”
“I didn’t know she was married. I stopped seeing her when I found out.” He pauses, examining my face.
I’m glad for the sunglasses that hide my eyes. I tear up immediately. I’d assumed he knew. That he’d been deceitful and the kind of guy I could never be with again after Wesley. “Good.”
The one word is so insufficient. I cringe just thinking about the way I now expect the worst of people instead of the best.
“I’m sorry about what Tori did. Josie told me. Hey, I’ll help you find another job. And Tori’s not going to bother you again. I swear it.”
So, has he been talking to Tori? Are they back together like Tori said and that’s why she won’t bother me? My throat has tightened like a fist encloses it. Squeezing and squeezing. But I won’t let myself cry. I turn away from him, just in case a tear slips through.
“You’re not speaking to me now?”
His cajoling, teasing tone triggers the tears and I stay turned away from him.
I feel a hand on my back and I jump, startled by the touch. Sensitive to everything. The movement is too sudden and I lose my balance on the edge of the dock.
The shock of cold water hits my body. I flail, sucking in water, my lungs and nose and throat burning with the invasion.
Then something pins me and I struggle against it. Kicking and pushing. Panic screaming like a banshee inside my brain.
My head clears the surface of the water and I sputter. Everything inside me is on fire. I cough and struggle for oxygen. I fight the restraint holding me. Still, the arms around me don’t let go.
Leo carries me out of the water and places me on the grass. I turn my head and cough water until my lungs cry relief.
“Harper. Are you OK?” Leo’s hair lies plastered to his head and water runs in rivulets down his cheeks and eyelashes.
I shake my head no, but I mean yes. But I’m not okay. I’ll never be okay without him.
He rubs his hand over his face. “The water’s not deep. Only twelve feet or so. You just went down so fast. Fuck. You sunk like a rock.”
“I got scared. I can’t swim.” I give him the tiniest of smiles. Not that the fact is relevant at this point as I lie half-drowned on the grass in my drenched clothes. Or maybe it is. Maybe I’ve always fallen in too deep because I don’t think ahead.
He draws in a deep breath and sweeps pieces of hair from my eyes. His hand shakes and he laughs nervously. “I wasn’t going to let you drown, babe.”
Babe. I don’t think he even realizes he’s said it. “I’m OK,” I say and attempt to sit.
I stare into his eyes, the color of skies and water and serenity. A place where I could find myself again. My instincts tell me that he loves hard and true. That he puts a lot of thought into giving his heart to someone. But I’ve lost my chance to be the person he wants.
After several minutes, Leo grabs my hand and pulls me up. “Come on.” His gruff voice cuts into my melancholy.
Maybe he’s read my thoughts and regrets that we can’t start over.
I’m wobbly and shaken, but not hurt. We walk to the boathouse and Leo has me sit in a lawn chair that he finds inside. “Don’t fall out of this.”
“Ha ha. I’ll try.” But I’m far from the water and still trembling. My clothes stick to my skin like a wetsuit.
I’d worn a white T-shirt and thin, tan cotton shorts. Now, both reveal my bra and panties as if I have nothing on over them.
Leo’s heated gaze ignites shivers along my body. I press my knees together and look away.
“The boards of the dock are too hot to lie on. I’ll find a blanket and we can get some sun. It’ll dry your clothes.”
He disappears inside the boathouse and returns with a large blanket that he spreads on the grass. “Take your clothes off.”
“Excuse me?” I suck in air and hope he can’t read my mind. A thousand hot images of us together flash through my head.
“Not everything. Strip down to your—” He motions toward me with his hand and seems hesitant. “Down to your panties and bra. I’ll put those on the dock and we can sunbathe until they dry.”
“No.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s not as if you’ll be naked. They’ll dry faster off and we can enjoy the sun. I brought SPF 30 sunscreen and forgot about it. If that’s what you’re worried about…”
As if that is my main concern. A sunburn.
“What about your clothes?”
“What about them?” He pulls off his shirt. Warm, golden skin greets me and a happy trail of blond hair leads like an arrow to a place now off-limits to me.
My mouth goes dry.
“Shorts. Your shorts are wet, too.” The devil made me say it.
He actually squirms. Leo places his hands on his hips and looks down, shaking his head. “No, I don’t think it�
��s a good idea if we both get naked.”
“That’s what I thought. You must not think we can just be friends.”
His brow creases. “What’s that mean?”
“Two things. You think it’s OK for me to be exposed, but you’re going to keep your goods all covered up. And you are afraid you won’t be able to control yourself.”
Leo grins. “You sure are sassy today.” He pulls his cargo shorts down and stands in black briefs. Skimpy black briefs.
Not-enough-left-to-the-imagination briefs.
My heart does a catapult into my mouth, curving my lips into a spontaneous smile. No chickening out now. He thinks we can only be friends?
I shimmy out of my wet shorts and drape them over the chair. Then comes my shirt. The warmth of Leo’s hot gaze is hotter than the sun. I catch him looking, and he looks embarrassed.
I wring water from my hair with one hand and walk to the blanket.
Leo stays on his side of the blanket and sprays sunscreen on his face and chest. I spray myself, even though I’m tempted to ask him to do it. We lie side by side on the blanket, our bodies not touching but painfully aware of each other.
Today hasn’t been so bad, aside from nearly drowning. Happy birthday to me.
17
Catch-22
Leo
I lie on the blanket beside Harper and listen to her steady breathing. The sun should make me sleepy, but it doesn’t. I keep seeing the moment her head disappeared underneath the water. My chest tightens painfully.
What if the water had been deeper? What if she’d been alone? What if by some freak of nature accident I’d lost a grip on her?
I allow my arm to brush against hers. The touch assures me. She’s still here. Alive. First the semi hits her, now this. My stomach twists, and I remember feeling like this another time.
I’ll never forget the death notification visit about Mom and Dad. At least the company sent a person instead of a phone call. Weeks later, I did research afterward, as would any writer worthy of his word processor. There’s only one plane crash for every 1.2 million flights a year. One in a million chance that I’d lose the people I love.