The Wicked Collection

by Vivian Wood

  Ellie sighed, heading into the rarely used office where Eli kept the landline. Every time she’d used it at the cabin, she'd felt like a secretary in an old movie. For years, she'd made fun of Eli for demanding such a dinosaur piece of technology, but now she was thankful. Eli didn’t pick up, either at the private White House number or his cell phone, which he'd urged her not to use unless it was an emergency since it was easier to tap.

  Wait, was this the weekend he was going to be in South Korea for his meeting with their president? Crap, she thought so. When she glanced outside, the snowflakes seemed to have grown even larger.

  “Eli? It’s me,” she said to his voicemail. “I’m okay. I’m at the cabin. It’s just… it’s snowing pretty hard, and it looks like I’ll be snowed in a bit. That’s fine. I have plenty of groceries.” She bit her lip, debating whether to tell Eli about Henry or not. Why worry him, though? “Just… call me when you’re back. If you get a chance.”

  In the kitchen, Henry brewed a barista-quality carafe that was worlds away from the usual Keurig cup she made for herself. It had taken her years to be able to drink coffee, and she still wasn’t a huge fan unless it was saturated with cream and sweeteners. “Wow! That smells amazing,” she said. “And I usually don’t drink coffee much.”

  Just past Henry, who was pouring two steaming cups by the sink, the morning sun was stretching up above the mountain peaks. She couldn’t have dreamt up a better, more romantic morning. Opening a box of toaster pastries, she put two into the toaster—one for Henry and one for her. Stop staring at him, she thought. But looking at that mussed hair and that worn out T-shirt, she couldn’t help herself. These moments, early in the morning before coffee, before the birds, these were a person’s most intimate times. It was how he must look upon first waking up, and for a moment she felt like she'd been tucked into bed with him overnight. Like they were waking up together.

  Ellie’s face flushed at her thoughts. God, I’m really going to be a virgin forever. Thinking like this about men who clearly are players. Confused players. She shook her head as the pastries popped up. Sitting across from Henry, she bit into the sugary treat between long pulls of coffee.

  “Any word from Eli? Or your Secret Service guys?” he asked. It seemed the coffee was working.

  She shook her head. “I think Eli’s overseas. And the Secret Service promised they were just a phone call away. I mean, there’s the caretaker’s cabin not far away, and that’s where they’re staying. That’s as ‘called off’ as Eli will allow, but they’ll only come around for emergencies. So I think all will be quiet on their front.”

  Henry nodded. “I’d forgotten about the little cabin,” he said. “No full-time caretakers anymore, then?”

  “No,” Ellie said. “What with Eli’s position now, he can’t really have non-cleared employees, even contractors.”

  “Makes sense,” Henry said. “It looks like we’re going to be snowed in a while,” she said, hungry to keep the conversation going.

  Henry lifted his head, and their eyes fixed on one another. “I can stay out of your way. I brought my laptop.”

  He’s ridiculous. “Don’t be silly. We’re both here for our own reasons. Let’s just… do what we’re going to do. You know. Go about our days separately until the snow clears a little. But, you know—there’s no reason to hide from each other. The cabin’s not that big.”

  “It’s pretty big.”

  “Is it?” she asked. “Still, I’ll probably starve if you don’t cook for me. So our paths need to cross at least a couple times each day!”

  Henry laughed and said, “You’re right about that.” He picked up both plates, rinsed them in the sink, and returned to his room. Ellie stayed at the breakfast table, watching the snow fall relentlessly as the sky shifted into an ice blue shade.

  When Henry came back downstairs, laptop in hand and heading straight for the office, she rose and headed for a shower. This time I’ll be sure and get dressed before leaving my room!

  Time slowed down at the cabin, especially with no TV or Wi-Fi. This, she hadn’t planned on. Not just the lack of entertainment, but the electric charge that came with knowing Henry was just one room away. Every now and then, she could hear a gentle clacking of his keyboard, but otherwise he stayed quiet.

  What can I do? This is so boring. Finally, she squatted down to the stack of books Eli curated for the custom-made bookshelves that wrapped around the entire first floor, hugging the walls up until the bottom of each windowsill. Lolita, Tampa, and The Bell Jar. Really, Eli? Quite the collection here. She settled on Atonement, a book she vaguely remembered from AP English from high school.

  Tucking her legs beneath her, she settled into the rich leather chair by the fireplace.

  Hours passed like minutes. Why hadn't she realized how amazing this book was back when boring Mr. Horst was teaching it? She ached for Cecilia. And then for Robbie, especially as he was forced to enlist. How lovely it must have been, though, to have those steamy love letters to satiate you. It was only when Ellie found herself reaching for the arching modern lamp that she realized the entire day had passed. Sometime, without her noticing, the sun had disappeared behind the mountains. In that darkness, in that solitude, her heart split open for Robbie. Injured and barely making it to the safe haven, he only has the memory of Cecilia to keep him walking—his only reason to live is the hope of seeing her again. Salty tears began to roll down Ellie’s cheeks, but she couldn’t help herself.

  “Ellie? What’s wrong?” How long has he been in the doorway?

  “Oh! Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just… it’s just not fair, you know?”

  “What’s not fair?”

  “This.” Ellie gestured to the book.

  Henry tried to stifle a grin. “Is that Atonement?”

  “Yeah… so?” Indignation rose in her throat. How dare he? He’d locked himself away all day long, and now he thought he had the right to judge her?

  “I haven’t read that since… well, I guess Mr. Horst’s class forever ago back in high school.”

  “You had him, too?”

  “Ellie, I think our grandparents had him. Anyway, dinner soon? It’ll take me about an hour. You can finish the book, then we can find something mindless to watch tonight. I think Eli still has a bunch of DVDs stashed away in the closet.”

  “Yeah, okay. That sounds good.”

  “You know, Ellie, not everything in life is grim. Or has to be.” She watched him walk to the kitchen, humming quietly to himself.

  “I can’t believe you picked 13 Going on 30,” he told her, reaching for another fistful of popcorn from the bowl in her lap.

  “Hey! You said I could choose. And this is a seriously underrated film.”

  “Film? I think if it stars Jennifer Garner, you can go ahead and call it a movie.”

  “Whatever,” she told him. As if it was so ridiculous to fall in love with a person you’d known your entire life.

  “Are you crying again?” he asked her right as the characters met face to face the morning of Mark Ruffalo’s wedding to someone else.

  “It’s sad,” she told him.

  “Why? In my experience, things don’t work out the way they do in movies. It’s actually refreshing to see a rom-com plot that doesn’t follow some prescribed equation of a happily ever after.” Clearly, he really hasn’t seen this movie before.

  “Don’t you have a heart?” she asked, only half-joking and digging her elbow into his ribs.

  “Maybe not. Like the Tin Man.” Ellie was puzzled. Is he talking about his own life? Actually, she realized she didn’t really know that much about Henry. She’d known him forever, but what did that even mean? Maybe she’d just been idolizing him this entire time because he was hot and Eli’s friend.

  She worried her lips, pulling gently with her teeth. If she was going to get to know him, really know him, there was certainly no better time or place than now. But how could she get him to open up?

  “So it’s a happily e
ver after after all,” he said, shaking his head as the characters were transported back to their thirteen-year-old selves to begin a lifetime of romance. “Figures. Well,” he said, standing up and stretching, his biceps swelling with every movement, “I’m going to put the dishes away and go to bed.”

  “Okay.” Ellie switched off the TV.

  “And, hey. Ellie?” he asked, pausing at the doorway. “No matter what you might hear, don’t come into my room.”

  “What? What are you talking ab—”

  “Just promise me. Okay?”

  “Henry, don’t be weird. What are you—”

  “Ellie!” he barked at her. This was a command. “Promise me.”

  “Okay, okay. Geez.”

  “Thanks.”

  As she watched him disappear down the hall, listened to the clang of the dishes and finally his footsteps ascending the stairs, she realized he'd just intrigued her more. What a mystery he is.

  Chapter Seven

  I don’t know how much more of this I can take. It was his third day of being snowbound, and Henry was going stircrazy. Cabin fever, maybe. Whatever you wanted to call it, he'd come here to escape. To relax. But this? This was like being in enemy territory all over again without any signs of an exit strategy. And Ellie was making it even harder.

  Actually, she was making him even harder. There was something about her, and he couldn’t quite pin it down. In so many ways she was the same Ellie he’d always known, and he still caught glimpses of the young girl he’d grown up with. The way just a hint of her gums showed when she laughed, or how she nibbled on her thumbnail when she was enthralled in a book or movie.

  And those pre-bed antics, those seeming rituals they’d established since day one were getting even more heated. Did she know what she was doing to him? Was she better at this whole temptress thing than he’d given her credit for?

  “Henry,” she said, pulling her bare knees toward her and resting her chin gently on them. “Tell me what your deal is with blondes. I know everyone has a type, of course, but it’s like you’ve got a collection of Barbie doppelgangers you’re going through.”

  “How about you tell me why you insist on wearing shorts and tank tops in the middle of a snowstorm? It’s burning up in here!” he teased. Although he really did want to know. Had she actually packed this brigade of tiny shorts and barely-there camisoles for a supposed winter mountain retreat alone?

  She shrugged. “I don’t know, I’ve always liked being warm and toasty indoors while it’s freezing outside. Besides,” she added with a smile, “Eli’s the one footing the electricity bill.”

  “He might be paying for it, but it’s still not the greenest strategy for the environment.”

  “Oh, don’t tell me you’re one of those,” she said, rolling her eyes and stretching her long legs out on the couch.

  “Hey, mind leaving a little room for me?” he asked.

  “You have that whole cushion at the end to yourself,” she said. “Besides, you don’t like being so close to the fire anyway. So, are you going to tell me? Or what?”

  “About the Barbies?” he asked. “There’s not much to tell. It goes both ways, you know. That type of woman has always come on to me.”

  “So, what? You’re innocent in all of this and these blondes are just like pumas ready to pounce all over you?”

  “Something like that,” he said, smiling at her.

  “I don’t believe you,” she said, thrusting out her lower lip in a fake pout. “Why not a nice brunette? Or, you know, you could go totally wild and go Asian, black, Latina—”

  “Redhead?” he asked, squeezing her foot that was pushing against his leg.

  “Hey! Knock it off,” she said. “I’m ticklish. Besides, you know what they say about redheads.”

  “They’re firecrackers,” he replied, unable to bring himself to end with “in bed.”

  “Well, I was going to say that we’re all crazy,” she said, leaning over and taking another sip from her wine glass. “Or that it’s likely that the curtains match the drapes,” she said with a giggle. “One or the other.”

  “Thanks for the tip,” he said, grabbing her foot again as it reached the top of his thigh, gliding his thumb along the sole.

  “Stop it!” she shrieked.

  “Okay, okay. No need to freak out,” he said, reaching over and taking a sip from his own tumbler of whiskey. “So, you never told me. Graduation. Your degree was in… ecology?”

  “Biology.”

  “Close.”

  “Well. I mean, I guess they both end in -ology, but that’s about it.”

  “So, what’s the plan?” he asked.

  “The plan is to get everyone to stop asking me,” she said, finishing her wine with a big swallow. “I don’t know. I mean, on the one hand, I feel like I should go on to veterinary school. I’ve always loved animals. On the other hand, I don’t know if I could handle making a living out of seeing so many of them suffer—I, you know, vets can’t help them all. And the euthanasia, I don’t know if I could ever handle that well.”

  “Yeah. That’s… that’s tough.”

  “Then there’s a part of me that thinks maybe I should go into the fundraising sector. I don’t necessarily need a master’s for that, and what with Eli’s position and all, it would be pretty easy to get connected with a nonprofit or NGO right away.”

  “But do you really want to utilize Eli for your career?” he asked.

  “No. That’s the thing. Oh God, Henry, this conversation is a buzzkill.”

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “You’re down there anyway. Why don’t you just give me a foot massage instead of random tickling attacks?” she asked, somehow lengthening those long, supple legs even more. “Come on,” she said, wiggling her toes at him.

  “As tempting as that is, maybe another time,” he said, gently lifting her feet off of him and getting up. “It’s late. I’m just going to go to bed.”

  “Okay, old man,” she said. “Don’t want you turning into a pumpkin.”

  For the third night, Henry wrestled with images of Ellie as he lay in bed. A few minutes ago, he'd heard her slip into her own room and quietly close the door. What was she doing now? She was nearly naked each night, traipsing about in those little shorts. She probably sleeps naked.

  He could almost see her, nearly feel the heat of her body radiating from the room next door. He knew it was foolish, but couldn’t help but wonder if what they said about redheads was true. Were they really that kind of unbridled wild he’d heard about? Did the fire between her legs really match those long locks falling down her back?

  Henry squinted his eyes shut, willing them to see Ellie just on the other side of the wall—alabaster skin a stark contrast to the silky slate gray sheets. She was on her back, hair splayed out and covering the entire pillow, knees bent. He imagined how she’d arch her back and run one hand across her breast, urging the nipple to harden, then skim her hand across the other. Pinching her pink nipples gently, rolling them between her fingers, her other hand would start to inch down.

  She’d hover that hand at her mound, teasing herself while she tugged lightly on her nipples at the same time. Slowly, she’d slide one finger into her wet folds, spreading her juices across her clit in careful circles. “Henry,” she’d whisper. She wouldn't be able to help herself. She'd have no need to suck on her fingers to slide with ease between her folds, across her clit or to dip into the warmth of her center—she'd be already nearly dripping with juices because she’d been thinking of him.

  In his mind’s eye, he watched her bring herself to climax. And yet, as hard as he was, he still never touched himself.

  Somewhere in the midst of it all, images of Ellie coming as she moaned his name gave way to sand. It was all he could see for miles, that red dune sand that had a way of getting everywhere. Whether it was Iraq or Afghanistan, he didn’t know. With every tour, the locations blurred together.

  But this time was different. He cou
ld feel the weight of his body armor plates covering his torso and the pinch of his tactical boots. The enemy was coming after Ellie and Aunt Mary, and his core strike group was nowhere to be found. It was all up to him.

  From his peripheral vision, he spotted a target approaching from the side. Does he really think I don’t see him? Holding still, like a lion before an attack, he waited until the last moment, right when the enemy was within grappling distance. With incredible speed, he turned and pinned him to the ground, using all his strength to hold down the person's arms and disable the enemy's lower body with his sheer weight advantage.

  “Henry! Henry, stop! What are you doing?”

  It was Ellie. The sand was gone, and as Henry took in the room his perspective was off. How did he get on the ground? And why was Ellie underneath him? Is this what I’ve been longing for?

  But, no. Ellie appeared seized with absolute terror. Tears were starting to fill her eyes, but she was too scared to even cry properly. Henry froze, then rolled off of her.

  Somewhere, there was the ragged breathing of an animal. Oh God, no, that’s me. Why am I so wet? What’s—

  He realized he had sweated completely through his boxers. Beside him, Ellie pushed herself off the floor, wary and shaken. “My God, Ellie. I’m sorry. Are you—are you okay?”

  “I’m… I’m fine,” she said, brushing her hands down her thighs. “I think I’m fine. Just… might be a little bruised maybe.”

  “I’m so sorry, Ellie.” The guilt he’d felt so many times on tour began to wash over him. He could have hurt her, just like he’d hurt so many in war. Probably more than he’d ever realized.

  “No, it’s fine. Really. You warned me not to come in. It’s just… I heard these noises. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”