“I’m sorry if I ruined your night.”
She hummed, “You were actually one of the better parts of my night.”
“Why do you say that?”
She popped out to his right, “No reason.” She smiled up at him, a foot away.
“Why do I sense that there’s more to that story?”
She twirled into the middle of the room, “Did they tell you why the fence was damaged?”
“At your parents?”
“Yep.”
“No they didn’t.” He watched her body move; his need for her was growing. This was a recipe for disaster.
“My dad ran into it.”
“Oh.”
She stopped spinning, and looked him in the eyes, “He was drunk.”
Clay stood from leaning on the bookshelf, “Your dad drinks and drives?”
She sighed, “He just drinks, all the time.”
“Is he an alcoholic?”
Her face went soft, showing a little sadness, “If I put a label on it, then it’s real.”
“Claire, just because you don’t label it, doesn’t make it less real.”
“Can I at least pretend he’s my perfect father?” Her voice trailed off, she gave him a sad side smile, and looked at the ground.
“Don’t do that.” He walked up, lifting her chin with his knuckle. When she looked up at him, the sun hit her eyes, making them an icy blue. It was as if they were the only two people in the world.
She slowly took his hand in hers, pulling it from under her chin, but not letting go or breaking eye contact. “Clay…”
The way she said his name was pleading. He knew she wanted him to kiss her. To be honest, he’d probably take her against one of the bookshelves if he tasted her, but she was special. She was Claire. “You need to leave.” He said, dropping his hand from hers, and walking to the back of the library.
“What’s wrong?” Claire asked, panic was in her voice.
“Nothing.” He wouldn’t turn around to look at her.
She followed him, “Did I do something?”
He spun around to face her, “Claire, stop.”
“What is it?” Her voice went high.
He clenched his jaw, “You don’t know me. My past is dark, yours is light. I’m not…” He paused.
“You’re not what?”
“You can’t be here. If you get caught with me, your father will end me.” He said firmly.
She glared at him, “Look at you, doing what you're told.”
He didn’t respond. He kept his eyes on hers until she broke away, and walked toward the doors. She stopped just before she left, and turned to look at him, “Not everything in life has to be scary.”
“Says the girl with a fiancé that she doesn’t love.” He replied. Her face hardened as she slammed the door.
*
Sunday Morning Clay walked down to his father’s house for breakfast. When he opened the screen door, he could instantly smell bacon that had filled the house. He watched his father just before entering the kitchen. He was getting older; his father couldn’t do everything that he used to. Clay did most of the work for their business now. Appreciation came over him for what his father had done to take care of him.
His father caught sight of him, “Hey, Son. Will you put the juice out?”
“Sure.” He walked in, and opened the refrigerator. “Nice day out.”
“It is.”
“I think I’m going to work on that bench for the Jamisons today.”
His father put some eggs on two plates, “Good, Good. Betty Jamison is going to love that gift. She’s got good kids.”
“What are you going to do today?” Clay asked, as he poured juice for the two of them.
“Some errands in town.” His father took a seat at the table. “How was the library yesterday?”
Claire came to his mind; the vision of her smiling, the stained glass rays dancing on her hair. Clay put some eggs on his fork, “It was work. Might be a couple Saturdays of it, but I’ll get it done.”
“I want you to take at least one weekend off this summer. You’ll work yourself to the bone if you don’t learn how to manage it.”
“When I find something worth not making us money, I’ll take a day off.”
His father shook his head, “I’m proud of your work ethic, I am, but please remember to be young.”
“I went out Friday with Brett. You don’t need to worry; I manage my time just fine.”
His father continued to eat his breakfast.
Clay added, “I don’t need much, Pop. You think I do, but I don’t. I’m happy the way our life is.”
“I just want more for you.”
Clay put his hand on his father’s shoulder, “I know, but I got you, and that’s enough.”
“I’ll let it rest for now.”
Clay laughed, “For now.” He picked up his dish, and put it in the sink. “I know where I get my persistence from.”
“Persistence isn’t a bad thing.”
Clay picked up his juice, finishing it off, “Anything I got from you is a good thing. I’m headed out to the barn to get to work. See you tonight.”
By lunch Clay had the wood measured and cut for the bench. The weather wasn’t as hot as it had been the previous days. He took a break, and made a sandwich, and then got back to work. He turned the music up when he got back to the barn.
He bent down, lining up two pieces of wood together. His eyes caught sight of a car driving up their driveway. He stood, watching it carefully; then he realized who it was. He sighed from frustration. Claire.
Chapter Six
Clay
Clay watched Claire as she stepped out of her car near his father’s house. She was wearing white shorts, and a lilac top. She hadn’t noticed that he was down in the barn. She walked up to the front door, and knocked. Obviously no one answered. Then she turned, and spotted him. Her arm swung, carrying an envelope, as she walked down toward him.
When she got to the entrance of the barn, he just stared at her, as the loud music kept playing. He didn’t understand why she was there. The moment either one of them speaks, breaks what he was feeling at that moment. She clutched the envelope between her two hands, staring back at him.
“Hi.” She tried to yell over the music. He kept staring. She held up the envelope, “I brought you this.”
He finally walked over and turned the music down, “What are you doing here?”
“My dad wanted me to drop off the check for the fence.” She walked up to him, holding it out.
He slowly took it from her, “We both know that is a lie.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, “Fine. You made me mad yesterday.”
He laughed, “So, you came here looking for a fight?”
“Maybe.” She crossed her arms. “You were rude.”
He tapped the envelope on his hand, “You think you have me figured out, Claire Cunningham?”
She cocked her hip, “I sure do. You hide behind the mystery. This dangerous facade you put off.”
He took a step closer, holding her eyes, “Do you think I’m dangerous?”
“N-no.” Her voice faltered as she caught her breath.
He smirked stepping closer to her; he liked the way she squirmed the closer he got. “Well, Miss Cunningham, I think I have you figured out too.”
“Oh, and who do you think I am?”
He licked his bottom lip, “You’re bored with your white picket fence life, and want excitement. Something real.”
Her eyes danced from his mouth to his eyes, “My life is real.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged, walking over, and setting the envelope on the radio. “Doesn’t mean the way you feel about your life is real.”
“Are you saying I put on an act?”
He smirked, “I didn’t say that. You just did though.”
He noticed her grip on her crossed arms became stronger, as her fingertips made small indents on her skin. He bent down and picked up
a hammer, “You dropped the envelope off, you can leave now.”
“Are you always such a dick?” She snapped, uncrossing her arms. “And what if I don’t want to leave?”
“What is it that you want then, Claire?”
“I-I don’t know.” Her words exhaled the sound of defeat.
He walked up to her, looking her in the eyes, “If you can’t tell me what you want, and why you came here, then you need to leave.” He pointed the hammer toward her SUV.
She stared back at him for a few seconds, and then closed her eyes, shielding his facial reaction to what she was going to say, “I want a day where I’m not Claire Cunningham; a day where I can just be me, with no consequences.” After a few more seconds she finally opened her eyes. The blue he saw was deeper. It was as if the color changed with her feelings. There was something hidden that brought the sadness out, and at that second he saw it.
“Come with me.” He set the hammer down, and walked past her.
She followed, catching up to him, “Where are we going?”
“Don’t ask questions, or I’ll change my mind.”
“Ok.” She went silent.
“I didn’t mean don’t talk.”
She laughed, “I never know with you. You’re so serious.”
He looked over at her, an involuntary smile slipped, “And you’re annoying.”
He guided her deeper into his property. She would steal glances of him. She thought he didn’t notice, but he saw everything that she did.
“Do you own all this land?” She asked.
“My father does, but I’ll get it when he passes. It was my Grandfather’s.”
“It’s beautiful.”
He let his eyes travel the property in front of him, “Yeah, I like it.”
When they reached the tree line, she suddenly stopped. “What’s wrong?” He asked.
She eyed him, “Are you taking me out here to murder me?”
“I thought you didn’t think I was dangerous?”
“I don’t.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about.”
“Ok, then.” She walked past him into the woods.
“Where are you going?” He caught up to her. “You don’t know where to go.”
“Exactly. I’m making my own rules, since you won’t tell me.”
“You're used to things getting handed to you. Patience isn’t your strong suite.”
She shot him a look, “I take offence to that.”
“Good things are nice, but the best things in life are worth the time it takes to get there.”
“Fine.” She gave him a small smile.
They finally reached a clearing deep in the woods. Her eyes took in the sight in front of her, while he watched her.
“Where are we?” She asked, as they walked into the clearing.
“This is Sanderson Field.” He looked over the opening. An enormous oak tree sat in the middle, a swinging bench hung from one of the limbs. A body of water not large enough to be a lake, or small enough to be a pond sat a little ways past the tree.
“What’s Sanderson Field? I’ve never heard of it.”
They continued to walk; he looked ahead, “I think most people have forgotten it. It’s been years since I’ve seen someone else out here.”
“Why is it called Sanderson Field?”
“You remember that Neal Sanderson, the baseball player? They say he learned how to play in this middle of this grassy field as a kid with his dad.” He shrugged. “But that could just be a story.”
“This town is good at stories.”
He laughed at the irony about his Mom, “They are.”
She looked up at him, “Why did you bring me here?”
They finally reached the overhanging tree and swing. He stopped walking, “It’s where I come to get away from life.”
She wrapped her hand around a chain that held the swing up, “What part of your life do you need to get away from?”
He didn’t want to answer her, so he changed the subject. “I built this swing a few years ago. I’m surprised it’s still up.”
She hopped on the swing, “Seems sturdy.”
“I might build things for a living.” He smirked, and sat down next to her.
“Does your dad come out here with you ever?”
He stared across the water, “I’ve never brought anyone out here.”
“Really?”
He stood from the swing, “You’re the first.” He looked back at her, “Don’t go getting a big head or anything.”
She smiled, hopping up from the swing, “I’m not. I just feel special.” She touched his arm. Thoughts of being with her rushed through his mind from her touch.
“You are.” He replied, holding her eyes.
She broke eye contact, walking forward, “Do you ever swim in the water?” She pointed.
“A time or two.”
She looked back at him with a side smile, “Today is quite hot.” She started to walk toward the water.
“What are you doing?” He called out.
She turned, walking backwards, “What do you think I’m doing?” She pulled her shirt over her head, revealing her white lace bra. “Going swimming.”
“Claire, wait…” He jogged after her.
“What?” She stopped, dropping her shirt in the grass.
He stopped in front of her, his eyes went to her breasts, and then he looked in her eyes, “I just wanted to say...race you.” He took off jogging toward the water, pulling his shirt over his head.
“Not fair!” She yelled with laughter, pulling her shorts off, and started running after him.
He glanced back at her; her panties matched her bra. The white lace on her skin made her tan glow. He slowed his steps, as she took off past him. He watched as she ran to the water. He was drawn to her, as much as he tried to fight it, he couldn’t.
“You coming?” She swam backwards.
He slipped out of his jeans, and waded into the water, directly toward her. Not once breaking eye contact. He pushed his way through the water, wrapping his hands around her waist, pulling her against him; his mouth dancing in front of her.
“Clay…” She whispered; her breathing was heavy.
“You have a power over me, Claire. I don’t know what it is.” He was sure she could feel his erection against her stomach.
“Clay, I…” Water was speckled on her bottom lip.
“What, Claire?” He held her with one arm, and ran his fingers from her neck down between her breasts. Her nipples peaked beneath the wet white lace. “Tell me what you want.”
Her eyes had returned to the icy blue from the library. She reached up, running her hands along the scruff of his jaw.
“Tell me.” He repeated.
She reached up to kiss him, but he pulled away. “No.” He released her waist, and swam backwards.
Her face dropped, “What?”
“Like I said earlier, if you can’t tell me what you want, I can’t help you.”
“I don’t know.” She pushed her wet hair from her forehead. “I’m confused. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but my life is complicated.”
“Your life is simple, Claire. All you have to do is make a choice for yourself for once. Choose what you want. Don’t tell me about a complicated life, I know complicated.”
Her eyes started to water, her bottom lip trembled. “I’m not as strong as you. It’s hard…”
His heart dropped, her tears tore him down from the defense he was trying to put up. He swam back to her, taking her in his arms again, “Don’t cry.” He held her against his chest. “I don’t ever want to be the reason you cry.”
He tilted her chin up for her to face him; her eyes were tinted red from crying. He ran his thumb on her bottom lip, “It’s not that I don’t want you. I do, trust me. I just won’t turn you into something that you're not. You still belong to someone else. You are not mine to take.”
“I know.” Her watery voice said.
“I’m not.” She said against his chest, her hands gripping his arms.
“You want to know the first time I saw you, I thought you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. You were shopping in town with your Mom. You had a blue dress on, and those converses that you always wear. I saw you smile, and I knew you were special. Don’t ever feel like you’re not.”
She squeezed his arms, and he watched her close her eyes, as they waded in the water. The birds were singing, the wind blew through the trees and grass. He held her tight, because he didn’t know if he would ever get to feel her like this again. This moment he would keep until the end of his days.
A little time had passed, and they found their way out of the water. He picked up her clothes, and handed them to her. They sat on the swing to dry off in the summer heat. Claire’s feet dangled, she swung them back and forth.
“Jason left me at the bar on Friday.” Claire said out of nowhere.
Clay’s head turned to her quickly, “He did what?” His chest suddenly felt tight when she said it.
“Yep.” She took a deep breath. “I haven’t told anyone yet. I haven’t even seen him since that night.”
“How did you get home?”
She played with her shorts that were sitting in her lap, “I walked.”
He thought about his Friday night. While he was with Natasha, Claire was walking home alone. Anything could have happened to her. “Claire, if I had known…”
She looked over at him with a flat smile, “It’s fine. Nothing happened to me.”
“That doesn’t make it ok. Why did he leave you?”
She laughed sadly to herself, “Because I wouldn’t sleep with him. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about how I’m the virgin bride.”
“I don’t listen to what people say.”
She swung her legs back and forth, looking at the ground, “Everyone else seems to.”
He took her hand, “If you’re ever in that situation again, call me. I will come get you.”
She looked down at his hand, “Thanks.” She pulled her hand away. “Maybe, we should head back? It’s getting late.”
Under the Oak Tree Page 5