Текст книги "Pocketful of Sand"

Автор книги: M. Leighton

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

EIGHT

Eden

EVIDENTLY IN MAINE, the weather can change overnight.  While it was very chilly yesterday, that wind must’ve been blowing in winter, because today it’s downright cold.

Since I homeschool Emmy (mostly out of necessity because of her anxiety and our frequent moves), it’s vital that we find things to do outside of our house, wherever that might be located at the moment. Here in Miller’s Pond, I’ve used walks down the road or to the beach as our escape since the nearest town, Ashbrook, is thirty plus miles away.  But now, with the weather turning, the beach is out of the question, so I find myself looking for reasons to venture to Bailey’s.  Today, I decide to take Emmy out for lunch.  And Bailey’s has a grill.

Jordan¸ the ever-present fixture at the everything-store, greets us from behind the cash register when we walk in.

“Well, hiya, ladies!” she says, her Northern accent shining in the way she says it.  It might be even more pronounced if she weren’t slurring.

Drunk at noon?

I’m beginning to think Jordan might have a bit of a drinking problem.

“Hi, Jordan!”

Emmy, as always, hugs my legs.

“What brings you two in today?  My stunning conversational skills? My incredible sense of humor?  My unshakable balance?”  She says the last as she pretends to walk a tightrope and nearly loses said “unshakable” balance.  She laughs when she does it and I can’t help smiling. At least she’s a pleasant drunk.

“Her uncanny ability to aggravate the customers?” says Jason as he appears from behind the counter, like he so often does.  Jordan gives him the stink eye, but he ignores her, smiling at me.  “Hiya, Eden.  Good to see you.”

“Hi, Jason.”

“I stopped by your house last Sunday.  Thought I’d take you and Emmy on a picnic.”

That takes me by surprise.

He stopped by?  For a picnic?  Without even asking in advance?

I guessed when I first met him that Jason was a bit on the cocky side, but this is a little too…presumptuous for me. And I’m not particularly fond of it.

“Oh, uh, we weren’t there.”

“Yeah, I kinda got that.”

I laugh, feeling silly.  I’m a terrible liar on the fly.  I have to have time to think and plan and rehearse.  Although that wasn’t a lie.  But for some reason, he makes me feel like I’m on the spot all the time. Like he wants to know too much about me. It’s there in the way he looks at me and the way he follows me with his eyes.

“We went to the beach.”

He nods and, as the silence stretches on, I try to think of a good way to dissuade him from just dropping by like that.  Before I have to come up with something, he gives me an opening.

“I would’ve called, but I don’t have your number.”

“Oh, I don’t have a phone.”

His brow wrinkles.  “Is that wise, with a child in the house?”

I can’t explain my reasons, of course, but even if I could, I wouldn’t appreciate his comment.  Evidently Jordan doesn’t either.

“Because you’ve got so many kids to take care of.  Idiot!  Why don’t you shut the hell up and stop antagonizing my customer?”

“Your customer?  The only reason you haven’t drank us into bankruptcy is because of me. I think you need to check the attitude at the door.”

“At least I don’t piss off everybody who walks in here, you asshole.”

Emmy’s hold on my leg gets tighter as their bickering escalates.  “I think we’re just gonna grab a seat,” I say quietly, steering my daughter to a stool at the diner-style bar.

Their voices drop to heated hisses as I take Emmy’s jacket off and lay it across my lap.  As I’m opening a menu for her to look at, Jason comes to perch on the stool beside mine.

“Did I piss you off?  Seriously?”  His expression seems contrite, sincere.

“It’s fine,” I reply noncommittally.

“I didn’t mean to. I swear. I was just…I was just showing some concern. That’s all. What I was going to say is that I’d be happy to get you a phone put in if you want.”

I feel Emmy’s head hit my arm, pushing it to the side to lean against my boob. It’s like she’s trying to shrink into me in order to hide.  Raised voices make her anxious.  And she doesn’t need any help with anxiety.  “I appreciate that, but we’re in good shape.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.  We just came in for a bite of lunch today. That’s all.”  I add a smile so that my remark doesn’t seem rudely pointed.

“Oh right right,” he says in another colloquialism that sounds just like his sister.  He slaps the bar and stands.  “I’ll leave you to it then.”

He nods and turns to leave just as the door opens with a jingle, drawing every eye.  In walks Cole Danzer in all his amazing, masculine, heart-stopping glory. His eyes find me immediately, holding on and refusing to let go.  I feel short of breath all of a sudden, like he let all the air out of the room when he opened the door.

Seeing him again hits me like a physical blow.  I haven’t laid eyes on him in a week.  Since the weather has cooled off, he must be doing something else. That or he’s working inside and I just never see him come and go. And I’ve looked.  Often.  Believe me.  But there’s never a car or truck outside, so if he is there, he must live close enough to walk over.

The thought sends thrilling fingers dancing down my spine.  Just the idea that he could be that close to me…all the time…day or night…

“Hoooly shit,” Jordan mutters, probably louder than she intended to.  Alcohol-induced lack of inhibition, I suppose.  “Hiya, Cole.”

Cole lets my eyes go long enough to glance at Jordan and nod.  Then they’re back on mine as he approaches.

I’m so absorbed in his arrival, I forget Jason is still close. “And Eden,” Jason says, bending toward me as he speaks.  “I’m here if you need any help. The weather can be brutal this time of year.”

I clear my throat and drag my eyes to him, leaning away until he straightens.  “I think we’ll be okay, but I know where to find you if not.”

Jason doesn’t make a move to leave.  He just turns to face Cole and crosses his arms over his chest. I get the sneaking suspicion it’s his way of staking a claim or something. “How goes it, Cole?” he asks pleasantly enough.  While his question is innocent, his body language says all sorts of other things that concern me. It says She’s mine, which I’m not.  It says Back off, which I don’t want Cole to do.  It also says I’ll fight for her, which I’d hate.  All in all, I don’t like what I’m seeing.

Cole stops a few feet away, his blue gaze flickering to Jason.  He nods again.  “Jason.”

The room is filled with tension.  Cole’s expression is much as it always is–curiously blank.  Except for the frowns he gives me sometimes, this is the face he wears most often.  But it’s not his expression that brings tension to the room.  It’s the way he stands in front of Jason, like he’s waiting for him to move, that gives me the sense that, despite the fact that they work together, there is no love lost between these two.

Emmy, as if she can sense the sliceable strain in the air, crawls into my lap and pops her thumb in her mouth.  Cole catches the movement in his periphery and glances over at her.  His rigid expression softens and his lips curl up. Just at the corners. It’s not a smile, but it must be enough for Emmy, who is peeking up at him from where she’s resting her head against my chest.  I see her tiny hand rise and her fingers fold one, twice, three times in a wave.

He glances back up at Jason.  No words are exchanged, but Jason shifts to the left, moving out of Cole’s way.  Cole straddles a stool two down from the ones Emmy and I are sitting on.  He picks up a menu as if to say that whatever else might be going on, whatever undercurrents are drowning the rest of us, are of no consequence to him.

Jason walks off without a word and Jordan makes her way around to drool over Cole, a bee drawn to his unusual brand of honey.  She stares at him unabashedly, leaning one hand and one curvy hip on the bar.  All she lacks is a wad of bubblegum to pop.  “What can I get for you, handsome?”

Cole doesn’t even look up.  “I think they were here first.  Take their order, but put it on my bill.”

“That’s not necessary,” I say.

Cole shifts his beautiful blue gaze over to me, pinning me with his stare.  He doesn’t speak right away.  Just melts me with those eyes.  “I know. But since you didn’t get your muffins…”

“But that wasn’t your fault.”

He shrugs, his eyes dropping to Emmy.  He winks at her before returning his attention to his menu.  I look down to find her grinning behind her thumb.  What is it about him that fascinates her?  I can see it on her face as plainly as I can feel it on mine.

Maybe it’s a genetic weakness that I’ve passed on to her.  Like Cole-holism or Cole addiction. He seems to draw her as inevitably as he draws me.

“That’s good enough for me, girls,” Jordan chimes in.  “Never argue with a gorgeous man who wants to buy you things.”  She beams a bright smile at Cole, who seems not to even notice as he continues studying the menu.

I end up ordering Emmy a grilled cheese and tater tots, not sure that she’ll even eat now, and I get myself a chicken sandwich.  Jordan assures me that it’s to die for and the only thing that could make it better is a bloody mary.

“I’d better not, but thanks,” I reply mildly.

“What can I get for you, Cole?  Anything you see making you hungry?” she asks, unflappable in her pursuit of his attention.  I’m a little embarrassed for her.  I’m thankful for her sake that she seems too intoxicated to really care if she’s making a fool of herself.

“Double cheeseburger combo.  To go,” he says, putting the menu back in its place and standing.  “I’ll be right back.”

He walks off, heading toward the universal sign for the men’s room.  Jordan and I watch him go.

“Damn that man!  He’s so good at resisting my charms.  I do everything but throw it up on the table for him, but…nothing. Nada.”  Her sigh is exaggerated.  “I’ll wear him down eventually.  He’s my Mount Everest.”

“How’s that?”

“He’s the one thing I’m determined to climb on top of if it kills me.”

She winks at me and then turns to yell at whomever does the cooking, someone named Raul if I understood her correctly.  Then she sashays away, whistling and swinging her hips as she picks up her covered drink cup from behind the counter.  I know she’s drained it dry when I hear the straw start sucking air. I can only imagine what was in it.

She carries away the cup, disappearing into the back, probably to refill it from her own stash.  While she’s gone, Cole returns from the restroom.

He slides back onto his stool and, when he speaks, it’s without even looking at me.  “I heard what Jason said.”

His voice is a quiet rumble that brings chills to my arms.  I don’t think it would matter what he said, or where he or when he said it. I think I’d always react to that damn voice of his.

“Oh?”

He nods.  “I don’t live far. Just up the road from you.  The cabin on the beach,” he explains.  I know exactly the one he’s referring to.  It’s the only one that actually looks like a cabin.  Emmy and I have passed it each and every time we’ve walked that way.  “If you need anything when the weather gets bad, come find me.”

Somehow knowing where he lives seems…intimate.  I’d say many people know where this man can be found, but I’d wager that he only told a very few of them.  Yet here he is, basically inviting us into his life if we have a need. I feel honored almost, like he’s gifted us with something rare and precious.

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

He turns to meet my eyes.  And, again, I’m held.  Effortlessly yet completely.  Mercilessly. I feel like I can’t look away. Or maybe that I don’t want to.  As though in doing so, I’d risk losing something exquisite. I don’t know why, but it feels…important, like we are slowly building something priceless.

“I can come by and check on you when the snow comes. If you want.”

“I’d hate to put you out.”

But I’d secretly love it if you showed up at my door.  Every day.  Forever.

He watches me intently before he replies.  He says so little, chooses every word so carefully it seems, that it makes me wonder even more about him.  Makes him even more fascinating.

“It’s no trouble.  I promise,” he says in his rich, gravelly voice.  A chill streaks down my arms again and I shudder the tiniest bit. Enough for Emmy to notice, though. She picks up her head and looks at me.  I brush several dark strands from her cheek, stuck there where she was pressed against me.

“We certainly appreciate that, don’t we, Emmy?”

She turns her big green eyes to Cole and nods, her lips curving behind her thumb again.

He nods to her just as a bell chimes from somewhere behind the window that leads to the kitchen. I still haven’t seen anyone back there, although an explosion could’ve happened a foot away and I might not have noticed.  That is how this man affects me.  I should probably be afraid.  Only I’m not.  I’m more intrigued and more…captivated than I can ever remember being.  Than I ever thought I could be.

Jordan comes rushing out, tucking her presumably full cup back behind the counter.  She reaches in through the window and takes a bag from a hand that appears to come from out of nowhere.  Maybe Raul is just really short.

She carries it back to Cole, holding it out like it’s an invitation to a sex party.  “Enjoy,” she says in her throatiest voice.

Cole nods, impervious to her efforts, and throws a bill onto the bar.  “That ought to cover it.  Thanks, Jordan.”

“Anytime,” she says as he stands and picks up his bag.

Then, without another word or backward glance, Cole walks right out the door.  All three of us watch him go.

NINE

Eden

AS MUCH AS I love our little cottage, it must have cracks galore.  It seems impossible to heat.  No matter how high I turn up the thermostat, it never gets any warmer.  It’s not freezing, but it’s not toasty either.  Emmy and I both wear sweaters even when we’re inside.

I glance out the window as I pass on my way to the living room.  It’s habit now, even though I haven’t seen Cole working across the street since the weather turned so cold.  But still, I look…on the off chance…

And today, I hit pay dirt. Through the front window of the cottage diagonal from mine, I see him.  My heart flutters in my chest, making me feel breathless for a second.

The heat must be on over there because he’s only wearing a white T-shirt. I can just see him from the waist up, but it’s enough. It’s enough to give me butterflies and warm my cool skin. Cole is standing in front of the window with a few nails clamped between his lips, hammering something above his head. I let my hungry eyes drift over him, drift over his god-like face, over his peaked biceps, over his narrow waist.  The material of his shirt has ridden up as he stretches, revealing the very last row of muscle on his chiseled abdomen.  My stomach turns a flip as I imagine what that skin must feel like–smooth and hard.  Probably warm.  Hot even.

“What is it, Momma?”

I jump guiltily, so enthralled I didn’t hear her approach.  “You scared me!  What are you, a ninja-in-training?” I tease.

Emmy’s eyes light up.  “Like a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle?” she asks.

“Even better!  You’re not green and you don’t have to carry that heavy shell on your back all day.  But if you want to try, maybe you could start with carrying me.”  I grab her and pretend to try and climb on her back.  She squeals and wiggles, so I end up tickling her instead.

“Your hands are cold,” I tell her when she runs her icy little fingers up my neck in an attempt to tickle me back.  “How about a hot bath to warm you up?”

“A bath?” she asks in horror.  “Ewww!”  Like every other child in the world, baths rank among Emmy’s least favorite things.

“A clean little girl?  Ewww!” I dance my fingers up and down her spine and she twists and turns to avoid them.  “Fine. I guess I’ll have to settle for a clean and warm Momma then.”

“That sounds better,” she admits with an impish grin.

“And after that…lunch.  Then school work,” I warn.

I see Emmy’s eyes roll before she turns away from me to scamper back into the living room. School work, especially since she’s homeschooled and has no playmates to soften the blow, falls right above baths on her “list of things I loathe.”  Getting her to do either is like pulling teeth.

In the bathroom I turn on the hot water spigot and temper it with just a little bit of cold as I wind up my hair and shed my clothes.  I think my eyes roll back into my head when I stick my toe in.  The moan that rumbles out of my throat when I sink down into the warm liquid is uncontainable.  “Holy crap, that feels good!” I say to the empty room. It’s fairly quiet in here, only the muted blare of the television interrupting the tranquility.

I let my eyes drift shut, visions of Cole dancing through my thoughts.  His beautiful face, his incredible body, his overt strength. His hidden vulnerability.  He’s like all things delicious–and gorgeous, and capable, and mysterious–wrapped up in a package that has KEEP AWAY scrawled across the front.  It makes for one of the most irresistible combinations I’ve ever encountered.  It’s so easy to picture him sweeping me off my feet, holding me in his strong arms, crushing my mouth with his perfect lips, warming my skin with his calloused touch.  God!

I don’t know how much time has passed in my fantasy world when I lift my head to look around.  Emmy is happily singing along with one of her favorite DVDs and my water has cooled considerably.  Not ready to give up Cole just yet, I hook my toe in the drain plug and yank. I let out a couple of inches of tepid water before I re-plug it and twist the hot water knob to add more heat.  I hear a dull clink and practically the whole thing comes off in my hand and then, a deluge of water.

The hard spray hits me right in the face. I squeal and press my hand in to cover the pipe hole.  Water is in my eyes, shooting up onto the ceiling and spilling from the tub out onto the floor before I get it somewhat under control.  And even then, it’s still spewing like crazy.  And it’s getting hotter.

“Mom!  What happened?”

Emmy is standing in the doorway, wide-eyed.  I flatten my palm over the pipe end to stem the flow as I look around for some kind of shut-off valve.  The only one I see is for the toilet right beside the tub.

My mind races. I’m no plumber! I have no idea what to do in a situation like this other than let it flood the house, which would be a nightmare!  One thought, one person, pops into my head.  Whether advisable or not, I cling to that image.

“Emmy, I need you to run to the cottage across the street. You know the one where Mr. Danzer worked this summer?”

“Yeah, I know which one.”

“You go straight over there and knock on the door.  Don’t stop and don’t talk to anyone else, do you hear me?”

“I won’t, Momma.”  Her eyes look frightened, but she’s already backing out the door.

“Emmy, get Mr. Danzer and bring him over here, okay?”

She nods and then turns to run.

“Emmy!” I yell.  I sigh in relief when she appears in the doorway again, cheeks already flushed.  “Hand me two towels,” I say.  She grabs one from the sink where I left it and another from the cabinet underneath and hands them both to me.  Water leaks copiously from around my fingers when I ease back to wind one around my front, half of it dragging in the water, and then stuff the other one on the pipe to staunch the flow of hot water. “Okay, go, go, go!”

She races off and I pray that sending her after him was the right thing to do. This would be a terrible time of year to have to find alternative accommodations.  But if anyone can fix this, I bet Cole can.

I snatch the plug out of the drain again and listen to the water in the tub gurgle away, my stomach twitching with anxious anticipation.

TEN

Cole

PART OF ME is glad that Eden isn’t at her window anymore. It’s hard enough to keep my mind off her as it is, but when I can see her…when she stands so still in her kitchen and watches me…

I close my eyes and grit my teeth against the unwanted sensations that tear through me.  I don’t want to feel anything for her. I don’t want to think about her or imagine what her soft lips would feel like against mine.  I don’t want to lie awake at night and wonder what she’s doing, what she wears to bed, or what she looks like when she sleeps.  I don’t want any of this.

Not that it matters.  I’m getting it anyway.  No matter how hard I fight it, she’s all I can think about.  Accept on beach day.

I almost don’t hear the knock at the door. I’m too deep in thought and the sound is too soft.  I stop hammering for a second to listen, thinking I might’ve mistaken some other noise for a knock. But then I hear it again, hesitant but insistent.

I lay down my hammer and walk to the door, cracking it to look outside. Standing on the porch is Eden’s daughter, Emmy.  Her eyes are as big as saucers, her thumb is stuck snugly in her mouth and she’s wiggling one foot where it’s being swallowed whole in what looks like her mother’s shoe.

A searing streak of panic blazes through me.  I fling open the door and drop to one knee in front of her.  “Emmy, what is it? Is your mom hurt?”

She shakes her head slowly, eyeing me suspiciously, like I might try to grab her and run away.  Relief washes through me and I drop my head for a second.  I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t care more than in the polite way that people care about what happens to someone they hardly know.  But that’s not what this is.  This relief…the panic that I felt initially…it’s much more than just polite. It’s a helluva lot more.

And I have no idea why.

I think again, briefly, vaguely, What the hell is she doing to me?

Emmy raises her arm and points back to her house. Her message is clear.

I would’ve responded, but the words get stuck in my throat when she surprises me by reaching out and curling her small fingers around mine.  Something in my chest seizes.  The world becomes uncomfortably emotional for a few seconds. I have to take my time before speaking.

Anxiously, she tugs.

“You need me to come back with you?”  I finally manage.

She nods.

I reach behind me to pull the door shut so that I can follow her.  She keeps a hold on my hand, her fingers tightening as she navigates the steps in her too-big shoes.  They clomp on the boards and I walk slowly at her side, careful that she doesn’t fall.  It’s a bitterly familiar sensation, one I want to both revel in and turn away from.

Only I can’t.  This little girl needs me.  Her mother needs me.

As we walk across the street, my focus is torn.  Part of me is wondering what I might find in the cottage up ahead, but another part of me is remembering why I never wanted to feel again.  If I feel anything, I have to feel everything.  The good and the bad.  The peaceful and the painful.

At her own porch, Emmy releases my hand, kicks off her shoes and bounds up the steps. She throws open the door and races through the house, sparing a glance back to make sure I’m following her.

I toss her mom’s shoes, which I picked up on the bottom step, beside the door and make my way inside.  Emmy runs to the bathroom and stands to one side looking in, still sucking her thumb.

“Hello?” I call to announce my presence.

“In here!” comes the harried response.

I head to the bathroom, not knowing what to expect.  What I find nearly buckles my knees.   Holy mother of God! It’s Eden. In the bathtub. On her knees.  Dripping wet.  Covered only in a soggy towel that outlines her every curve in the most mouthwatering way.

It takes me a second to speak. I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut.  What is it about this woman that makes me want her so badly?  After all this time, after all the women who’ve tried, why her?  Why now?

I don’t have the answers to any of those questions. I only know that my whole body is tight as a damn drum just looking at her.

“Can you please shut off the water?” she sputters, drawing me back into thinking mode.

Immediately, I turn and head back outside, around to the side of the house to the water main where it’s buried in the yard with the meter.  I twist the handle to close the valve and turn to go back inside, leaving the cover off until I’m ready to cut the water back on.

In the bathroom, I find that the flow is already tapering off and Eden is breathing a little more easily.  The muscles in her thin arms are straining under her water-slicked skin.  Her breasts are heaving behind the knot in her towel.  It’s hard as all hell to drag my eyes back to her face.

But her face…God, she’s beautiful!  Her hair is jet black, like her daughter’s, and her skin is porcelain cream.  Even when it’s not wet, it has a satiny sheen that makes my fingers itch to touch.  Her nose is small and delicate and her lips are pink and lush. But it’s her eyes that get to me. The way she watches me, the look that shines from the hazel depths. It’s like she can see right through me.

Even now, when she turns to me after the water has stopped and she has let her tired arms fall to her sides, her eyes draw me in. Hold me right where I’m standing. They won’t let me go.  And part of me doesn’t want them to.

Her lips break into an exhausted smile.  “Phew!  That was quite a bath.”  Emmy giggles around her thumb and Eden winks at her.  An odd contentment spreads through me, like the steamy warmth of the bathroom is heating my insides.  My heart ties itself into a knot of a million emotions.  And my stomach clenches around only one.

Betrayal.

Betrayal of my daughter. Her memory. I can’t be happy. Not without her.  If she can’t be here and be happy, then neither can I.  I made her a promise.  And I intend to keep it.