Barefoot Girls - Kindle

by Unknown

  The boat packed, she untied the rope and pushed off from the dock before starting the engine and heading across the channel, a shallower section of water between the island and the causeway where crabs and clams were plentiful and there were plenty of very shallow areas for young children learning to swim.

  Hannah examined each house as she passed it, as she did every time she visited, welcoming the sight of the familiar homes. Each had its own personality: some neat and square and surrounded by mown marsh-grass lawns that were prickly and full of sand, some wild and colorful with lush growth hugging them.

  Some, like the Barefooter house, had names. The Bottle House was owned by old Mrs. Logan, who had filled every window and shelf of her home with old salt-water-weathered glass bottles of every color. Although they were mostly blue, green, white or brown bottles, there was a bright red bottle in the front picture window, placed dead center like a beacon or a jewel.

  There was Captain’s, a gray-shingled regal three-story with a widow’s walk that was added years after the Captain had passed away, but island children insisted on saying that his wife’s ghost could still be seen walking it on foggy days, searching for him. There was the Tunnel House, built in the seventies by an architect who built the strange futuristic house shaped like the top of a keyhole that had more structural problems than even the oldest house on the island. The Tunnel House had been up for sale for three years now with no takers in spite of the island’s recent surge in property values and popularity with people from the city. It sat empty on its grassy lot looking more bedraggled every day as it slowly fell apart, boards peeling off of the house and falling into the yard.

  Hannah slowed the boat as she approached Aunt Pam’s dock. She would stay here at night and would keep all of her stuff here, but planned to spend her days at the Barefooter house. She had more luck with this dock, slowing down enough to slip a rope over one of the cleats and tie it clumsily, turning off the motor just before it continued to pull the boat past. Maybe she had to cut the motor first? She tried to remember, but she had never paid attention.

  She unloaded everything on the dock and then went back for the second load, starting to finally relax a bit as she steered the boat across the water, turning her face up towards the weak yet warm sun that was sinking quickly. How had so much of the day flown by so fast? She hadn’t even gotten into Pam’s house yet, hadn’t even looked at the Barefooter house.

  Just as she was nearing the community dock, her cell rang. Daniel’s ring. She started to reach for her purse, but accidentally started steering directly into the bank and struggled to right the direction of the boat.

  The phone rang on, singing Al Green at her. He wasn’t supposed to call her. What was he doing?

  But she had to answer it. It might be an emergency. She had never, not once, let it go to voicemail on purpose on him. She did it to everyone else, all the time, but never him.

  She spun in her seat, shut off the engine, and grabbed at her purse, pulling the phone out as she lifted it up. “Hello?”

  “Hey, you. I know you said you’d call, but it was getting late and I started to think about all those crazy Long Islanders and you on the same road. How’s it going?” Daniel said.

  Immediately, Hannah felt guilty. Here he was worrying about her, and she couldn’t even wear his ring. She had taken it off as soon as she arrived and immediately felt like she could breathe easier. No one could see her here, after all. She’d zipped it up in one of the pockets in her purse, the purse that now sat at her feet.

  She nudged her purse with her toe and said, “Okay. I’m just trying to figure stuff out. I feel like such an idiot.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, I guess I always just let my mom run things whenever I come here. I never really thought about it. I don’t know the first thing about boats and I practically grew up on the water. It took me three tries to even tie up!"

  “Really? I always thought you were pretty good as my first mate. You tie a mean line.”

  “Yeah,” Hannah said, nodding. “I can follow orders. I just don’t know what to do when I’m by myself.”

  “I could come out there now and teach you. I don’t have to fly until Monday. We could have the weekend out there,” he said casually, as if they hadn’t already gone over this.

  “No. Please. I need this time.” I need you not to see my ringless finger. I need you to not know that I’m still having panic attacks whenever I see it. I keep it close, but it’s invisible. Plus my mom. I need to understand her, life, to “get it”. Why am I so gape-mouthed and confused about everything? What is wrong with me?

  “Okay, okay. Just thought I could help,” he said, his voice getting tight as it did when he started to get angry.

  “And you would be helpful! I just..." She sighed.

  “I know…, I miss you,” he said, his voice softening.

  “I miss you, too.” She noticed the boat was starting to drift backward towards Aunt Pam’s house, the tide grabbing it. “I have to go. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m pretty sure I’m being swept out to sea. The boat’s going the wrong direction.”

  “You won’t be swept out to sea. You’ll be fine."

  Hannah looked around. “The tide is taking me backwards. And I still have to get my stuff. And I haven’t even gone inside Pam’s house or unpacked. I have to go.”

  “Okay, I’ll talk to you tonight.”

  She felt like screaming. No! Alone! I need to be alone! Who was that old-time famous actress who said that?

  “Do you mind if I just have a few days by myself?” she said.

  “By yourself? You are!” The irritation was back in his voice. It had been waiting. Would this work? She had always wanted to be needed, wanted, craved just like her mother, who was always clung to by everyone. Popular was such a silly word, but it fit. Now Daniel felt that very way about her, Hannah, and it felt scary, wobbly, airless.

  She forced herself to say what she needed to say. What she should have said from the beginning of this whole thing, the first panic attack, but was too scared to say, afraid she’d lose him. “Daniel. I need to not talk to anyone, not even you. I need to just be alone. Really alone. You know how upset I’ve been. We’ve talked about it. I need to figure stuff out. I’ll call you next Wednesday, okay? And we’ll plan when you’re coming out. Okay?”

  He didn’t say anything. The boat was going backwards even faster. Was the tide going out or coming in? Her mother would know just by looking at the water. Maybe she would float out to sea.

  He spoke finally. “I didn’t know, I thought…well, all right then. Call me. You know my schedule. You brought it, right?” He had written out his entire flight schedule for the month for her in his neat cursive writing, and it hadn’t just been for planning his time on the island. It had been so they could talk on the phone.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice small.

  “Okay,” he said. “I love you, Hannah.”

  “Oh, Daniel. I love you, too. So much!”

  “Good,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. The slight relief. “All right, have a good time. And call me if anything happens, I mean, if anything goes wrong.”

  “I will,” she said, cradling the phone in both hands, while watching houses slide past on the shore as the boat floated along.

  “Bye.”

  “Bye!” She said, trying to sound bright, telepathically tell him everything would be all right. Not because she knew that, but because she wanted that. Don’t give up on me. Not yet.

  She tucked her phone back into her purse, patted the zippered pocket holding her ring, and vowed to put it back on once she settled in at Pam’s. Then she switched on the motor, and steered the boat back toward the dock as best she could.

  Chapter 10

  Daniel stood at the window of his apartment in Manhattan, still holding his cell and looking downtown. He wanted to throw the phone out of the window, step on it and crush it into pieces under his foo
t. He was tired of talking to her on the phone, tired of being pushed away.

  Why was he putting up with this shit?

  He had even taken out his duffel bag and put it on his bed, certain that once she had been alone out there on the island for a little bit she would welcome his visit. It was just the weekend, for Christ’s sake!

  But he knew why he was putting up with this. He also remembered too well what had happened at her little cottage in Greenwich, the ring coming off like it meant nothing. He was still in shock over that. The women he had dated over the years, they had all practically begged for a ring, rolling over like dogs. Meaningful looks and home-cooked meals and making nice with his parents. Trying to cozy up to his mother! His mother had loved that, saw it as her due and played mind games with them. I like you now. Now I hate you. Now I’m ignoring you.

  He hadn’t introduced Hannah to his mother yet, didn’t want to scare Hannah off. He would wait until their wedding date was set, and besides, Hannah hadn’t even asked to meet his mother. The other girls, they couldn’t wait to play daughter-in-law and tried to get his mother to talk about grandchildren. Little did they know that the last thing his mother wanted was to be a grandmother.

  It was funny that the very thing he loved about Hannah was the thing that was driving him nuts now: her contented introversion. He loved how happy she was by herself, writing, digging quietly in her garden, nestled in her favorite chair with a book. She didn’t play mind games or need to be the center of attention like his mother.

  He also loved her complexity and intelligence, and that was something she shared with his mother. She surprised him all the time with her powers of observation, her right-on intuition, her wise reflections. He was amazed by her book, how eloquent and poetic it was. He loved her for her mind, and on top of that, he was crazy about her body and her beautiful face and long dark curling hair. He usually loved beautiful women until they opened their mouths. Hannah had opened hers and he had been paralyzed, rooted to the ground at that party where they met, gawking wordlessly at her like a geek.

  He had recovered, of course, and put on his suave playboy act, which had actually turned her off. She had made excuses to escape their conversation and avoided him for the rest of the party. He didn’t know, at the time, that his usual shtick was the cause of it. Instead, he’d wondered about his breath, checked his teeth in the bathroom, and replayed their brief exchange in his head.

  It took a lot of research to track her down and stage a “chance” meeting. The party’s hostess, Carly, barely knew Hannah. They worked together at a restaurant in Greenwich, but Carly didn’t know where Hannah lived or even her last name. He couldn’t believe this beautiful fascinating creature was a waitress. Why? The elegant intelligence he had witnessed at the party bore no resemblance to any waitress he had ever known. Maybe it was a second job or a way of paying the bills through school. Or, God forbid, was she an actress?

  He talked Carly into giving him Hannah’s schedule as well as what section of the restaurant she usually worked. Then he talked his buddy Brian into humping it out to Greenwich for lunch at said restaurant on a Thursday, the only lunch shift she worked. When he made reservations, he specified a table by the windows overlooking the river that ran beside the restaurant, Hannah’s section.

  His confidence punctured by the way she had avoided him the last time they met, he couldn’t bring himself to put on his cocky act – the act that had always worked with women before. Without it, he simply smiled at her when she approached their table, let her remember him and watched the conflict on her face. He asked her questions about herself this time, and listened. When she left their table the second time after coming back to take their lunch order, Brian had looked at him strangely.

  “What’s up with you and that chick?” Brian asked in a low voice, his lips twisting in a half-smile. Brian was his wing-man and his neighbor. He knew Daniel as well as anyone did, and knew that Daniel’s reputation as a player was rooted in fact. “Is that the one we came all the way out here for? A waitress with a stick up her butt? Seriously?”

  Daniel picked up his beer and took a sip before answering. How could he explain? Well, he wasn’t going to take the chance of Hannah overhearing their conversation. He raised his eyebrows at Brian, “I’ll tell you later.”

  Without his usual bravado, Daniel couldn’t pursue her as he had last time, and started to realize the benefit of this as she slowly warmed to him. She reminded him of a scared fawn: make any sudden moves and she’d dart away into the brush. Whenever she stopped by their table to check on them, he was friendly, but not too friendly. By the end of their meal, Hannah had visibly relaxed, delivering their check with a wide smile.

  Now.

  He put down his credit card, paying for the meal as he had promised Brian, excused himself and headed toward the bathroom. There she was, by the computers, punching in an order. He stopped behind her.

  “Hey,” he said.

  She looked over her shoulder at him and her eyebrows went up in surprise. “Oh, hi. Uh, wait a second.”

  She punched in a few more things, her back to him. He tried not to admire her perfect pert ass too much. She might catch him. He looked away, down the hall toward the dining room.

  Hannah turned around. “Yeah? What’s up? Did you need something?”

  He had read that people respond best to requests for help. Here goes. “I’m kind of stuck. My buddy is heading back to the city, but I have to stay in town for an appointment I have tomorrow morning, and I have no idea what to do tonight. I really can’t handle sitting around in a hotel room channel-surfing and I was wondering if you could recommend something to do around here? You live here, right?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I live here,” she said, and looked down, her face turning a fetching pink. “But I don’t know how much I can help you. I don’t go out much.” She bit her lip and looked away, thinking. She thought of something, her face brightening, and smiled at him. “I guess you could go to downtown Stamford. There’s a lot going on there.”

  A beautiful girl that didn’t go out much? She was the strangest girl he had ever met. Beautiful girls went out all the time in Manhattan. Everywhere, actually. Rome, LA, London. They didn’t stay home, hidden. They knew better than that.

  “You don’t go out?” he blurted, trying unsuccessfully to keep the incredulous tone out of his voice.

  She turned even redder and looked away, shrugging her shoulders. “Ah, yeah. I stay home a lot.”

  She was embarrassed! Why didn’t she go out? She had to have invitations all the time. Or maybe the way she had avoided him at the party was how she acted with everyone.

  He said, “Hey, I have an idea. Maybe we can both show each other the town. You haven’t been there. I haven’t been out in Stamford before. What do you think? Could be fun.” He kept his tone light, like it was a thought out of left field.

  She looked at him again, considering. “Well, I don’t know-“

  “Come on, you’d be doing me a favor.”

  “I don’t even know where we’d go.”

  “You know where the downtown area is, right?” He had her!

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, we’ll just go there. Walk around.”

  She nodded. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. I really don’t go out and I don’t know anything about where to go. But…, okay.”

  Once she agreed to the night out in Stamford, she opened up completely. She gave him her address when he offered to pick her up later. She even asked him what to wear. A woman like this, asking him what to wear! He wanted to shake his head in disbelief, but controlled himself.

  The night was a roaring success. She was like a gorgeous teenager, so shy and delighted with everything. She genuinely laughed at his jokes and listened to what he said. When they found an appealing Italian restaurant with tables on the sidewalk, she actually ate a real meal, bruschetta for an appetizer and lobster ravioli in a rich cream sauce for her entree, rather than
picking at a salad like most of his dates. He loved talking to her and listening to her and looking at her. He felt lit up and buzzy, a high he hadn’t had on a date, well, ever.

  That date turned into many more. He traveled out to Greenwich. She came in to the city. She didn’t fall into bed with him, and he was grateful. That would have been the end of it, her being easy. Instead she held him off for over a month, gently but firmly. When they finally slept together, he fell even more in love with her, her responsiveness and passion were all he could have asked for.

  After a wonderful year together, he knew. She was the one. He asked her on the little sailboat he had bought that spring and kept in Stamford. She said yes. He was over the moon and back, and that was even before he met Hannah’s mother, who turned out to be an unusually appealing mother-in-law-to-be: beautiful, funny, and charismatic with a doting husband and a gaggle of women friends who were boisterous and friendly. When Hannah’s family and friends had all toasted to their engagement at the intimate party they had held for them on Captain’s Island, Hannah’s family’s summer retreat, he had felt that it was the final seal of approval, and he let the little nagging worry that had followed him since he met Hannah finally go free. He had her and she had him. Done deal.

  Except it wasn’t.

  He looked down at the phone in his hands, turned and threw it across the room. It landed with a loud crack and skittered across the wooden floor, slowing over an area rug, before coming to a stop under a table.

  He sat down on the couch and put his head in his hands.