My Nora

by Holley Trent

  Nora uncapped her camera lens and took a shot of a periwinkle-colored houseboat floating near the bank as they glided past. Matt was pretty sure it wasn’t legal to be there. There was a man on the porch with his feet up on the railings and a hat over his face — obviously asleep. His hound dog, a brown hunting sort with long floppy ears, sat at the edge of the porch and yapped at them quietly as if he’d been trained for silence.

  “Well, my name is actually how I got to be interested in genealogy,” Nora said after they put some distance between themselves and the floating house. My grandmother named me after her grandmother, or at least in part. My name is actually Manora.”

  Matt whispered it. “Manora. That’s pretty. Unique.”

  “Well, apparently the first Nora was a very sweet woman. Her father always referred to her as ‘my Nora,’ so when a census taker was recording the inhabitants of their house, that’s what he heard her name as: Muh-Nora.”

  My Nora. “Manora would sound pretty good partnered with Vogel,” he said lightly, and turning his gaze to her slowly to assess her reaction.

  She smiled and giggled. “Now I know you’re flirting.”

  “You couldn’t tell?”

  “No. You don’t have to try so hard to be nice to me, Matt. We can still be friends without you inflating my ego.”

  Matt opened his mouth to refute her cynicism, but thought better of it. Time was the only cure for that.

  The breeze was starting to pick up and Matt took note of Nora rubbing her hands together and then putting them up inside her shirt against her skin to keep them warm.

  “You ready to head back?” Matt asked, already steering back toward the ramp.

  “Do you mind? I’m not built for cold.”

  “I don’t mind at all.” He would have minded even less if he got to be the one to warm her up, pulling her naked body against his under the covers, sharing heat they created from love-making. That is, if they lasted long enough to make it under the covers.

  *

  “You want to come in for a beer?” Matt asked after pulling the canoe out of the bed of his truck and stowing it in its rack in the carport. He gave Nora a churlish wink. “Floor’s dry.” And Karen wasn’t home.

  “No, I really want to dump my camera files and see if there’s anything there worth painting. I’m having a hard time with this schedule and want to get as much as I can done before the holidays get distracting.”

  “Well, okay. Don’t be a stranger.” He put one hand out to chuck her chin again, but once his finger was there on her smooth skin and she was staring up at him daringly, he found himself not drawing back his hand, but using it to caress the skin along her jaw. Nora seemed startled, but didn’t resist. With their eyes locked in that intimate stance, it felt right for him to wrap his other arm around her back and press her against his chest. She put up one hand against the firmness of his belly, not to resist him as he initially thought, but to steady herself for she was shaking like a leaf, and not from the cold. “What’s wrong?” he asked, putting his lips so close to her ear that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck.

  “Nothing. I guess I’m just surprised,” she said, closing her eyes as he laid slow, light kisses on her chin and neck.

  “By what?” He was whispering now.

  “I think you like me.” Her voice went breathy as Matt slid one hand down her back to grab a possessive handful of her rear.

  “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer. When her bottom jaw fell to speak some excuse, he slid his tongue between her lips and gently probed her mouth until she reciprocated by grabbing his lip between her teeth. His hands, warm as his heart, crept up the back of her shirt and found their way around to her ribcage where he cupped the bottoms of her breasts in the bowls made by his spread thumbs and forefingers. It was a dream for Matt merely having his hands there, molding them to her perfection, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to pull that shirt off over her head and lay her bare so he could caress, stroke, lick.

  Nora obviously felt his aroused state as she shoved her hand down the front of his jeans and found the warm shaft that was starting to engorge at her attention. “Jesus,” she whispered, her eyes going wide as she wrapped her fingers around his girth.

  “That scare you?”

  “No … I mean … ”

  Matt didn’t let her answer. He lowered his head down to hers and crushed her lips beneath his, devouring her mouth and darting his tongue into its far recesses. Nora moaned beneath him, and Matt felt like he was becoming completely undone. He needed her in the house. Now.

  That didn’t happen. Karen pulled up and parked in her usual spot beside Matt’s motorcycle, although they didn’t hear her or separate until she got out, slammed the door, and clicked the lock button on her key fob.

  “I’m all for you getting laid,” Karen said cheerfully, adjusting her glasses so they sat higher on her nose. “But can you commence doing so inside? Mrs. Herring is having a good ol’ time watching y’all through her sitting room window.” They all turned on cue to look at the house across the road to find a small, wizened face beside a drawn-back curtain panel.

  “I … I’ve got to go,” Nora said, batting Matt’s hands down from her chest and then hoofing it across the yard toward her own.

  “Nora, wait!” Matt called, adjusting his pants as he jogged after her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have — ”

  “No, it’s not you,” she said, quickening her pace. “I don’t feel used, so don’t even say it. I just … I can’t right now.” Then she took off at a run. Matt let her go because making her explain against her will didn’t seem right, either.

  *

  The following Saturday, Matt and Karen perched in a rickety tree stand on a property belonging to an old woman who had a hankering for venison for Thanksgiving. Not being a hunter herself and not having indulged in game meat since her husband died five years before, she put out an announcement through her church network and word eventually got back around to Matt, who jumped at the opportunity to hunt on a property that large. The women had held a raffle and the four winners got alternating weekend hunting permissions on her property with the caveat that if they felled a deer, she got half the meat.

  “So, what’s going on between you and Nora?” Karen whispered, holding her Remington 700 steady, waiting for the deer they’d spotted to quit nibbling and come out from the tree where it had taken cover. Karen generally preferred her bow over her gun since she didn’t have to wear ear protection when shooting arrows, but she’d accidently ran over her crossbow with her car the night before, not realizing it had fallen over from the wall it was usually perched against.

  Matt was slumped against the back wall of the stand with his Thompson/Center rifle across his lap, making no effort to line up a shot. He wasn’t in the mood for it, but since it was his name scribbled on the “Permission to Hunt” form, he figured he should accompany his sister. “Nothing’s going on. Haven’t seen her in a week.”

  “Doesn’t look like she’s moved her car all week, either. I saw her outside on Wednesday when I was driving home. She was talking to the contractor. He finally got that side wall put up now that the stairs are built in. She looked kind of tired and was yawning while the guy was talking to her.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Did you try calling her?” She squinted into her gun’s scope then muttered “shit!” as the deer’s shoulders became obscured by a large oak trunk.

  Matt scoffed and the small sound made the deer jerk back a few paces and scan the area for the source of the noise. “I don’t even know her phone number. Haven’t needed it.”

  Karen set her gun down flat again to wait, and turned to her sulking brother. “You know, I don’t need you to take care of me anymore. My feelings won’t be hurt if you decide to get married or whatever.”

  Matt crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at the waif laying in the stand opening. Maybe she didn’t need him anymor
e. The thought had crossed his mind several times before then. She had a pretty good job as a nurse’s aide at the hospital and was studying for the SATs so she could enroll in college to get a nursing degree. He knew she was good about saving her money so even if she did quit working to attend school full-time, she’d be okay for a while. Matt’s annoyance was due to her preposterous guesswork that she was holding him back. And what made her think he wanted to be married? He did, but Karen was certainly putting the cart ahead of the horse.

  “I know that, Karen,” was all he said.

  “I mean, just tell me if you ever want me to leave. I can live anywhere. I’m going to want to live closer to school, anyway.”

  “I’d never ask you to leave, Karen. It’s your house as much as it’s mine.”

  “That’s not what the paperwork says.” She put her rifle back up to her shoulder. The deer was getting careless.

  “Don’t worry about the fucking paperwork. As long as I’m alive you’ll always have someplace to go. Drop it.”

  “Okay.” Karen shrugged, then relaxed her shoulders and took her shot. It was a clean one; the deer fell instantly and was still after a few tense moments of thrashing. She raised her voice to normal level as she strapped her gun onto her back and then dropped her long legs down onto the ladder. “My point is just that if you want to hook up with Nora, I guess I approve. Not that you care.” Her head disappeared through the trap door and Matt sat there a bit longer thinking. Did he really care that a twenty-year-old approved of any romantic prospects? This time, yes. Yes, he did. Nora was a “for keeps” kind of woman.

  Matt sighed and strapped on his own gun to follow Karen down the hole and over to the copse of trees where she was assessing the deer idly fondling the hilt of her knife. “You want to dress it here or take it home?”

  He looked at his watch. Nearly noon. They’d be there for another couple of hours at least, and he’d been thinking all morning about ways to show up at Nora’s without spooking her. The way she’d ran from him that day after returning from the swamps hadn’t sat well with him and he wanted to know what he’d done to scare her. Still, if she didn’t want to be bothered, he wanted to heed her wish. Only for a while, though. He didn’t want her to think he’d given up so easily. Giving up just like that would have meant he didn’t really want her in the first place, and that couldn’t be further from the truth. Matt wanted her body, yes, but the more time he spent with the artist, he also wanted her companionship. She was the wife he wanted, if she’d have him.

  Circuiting her kitchen the evening he’d fried fish for her had stirred something in him, and not of the primal sort. Being in her company felt right. Good. It was the casual awareness they had of each other. The ease of conversation. She was a woman he wanted to come home to every night. A woman who had something to say he actually wanted to hear.

  “Let’s just do it here,” he said finally, pulling out his own sharper knife and handing it to her. “I’ll get the rope out of the truck.”

  Chapter Five

  Nora’s newest painting had nearly been a disaster until she figured out how to anchor all that bland color. The green murk of the water, the faded tones of the tree trunks, and the leafless boughs of the swamp had made her canvas look like so much pea soup, even with the flower-colored houseboat prominent and its resident clearly presented. It wasn’t until she took a break to peel and cut the bag of bright red apples someone had left on her porch — probably Karen since they were in one of those plastic bags hospitals give patients to take their belongings home in — that she had an idea of what the painting was missing.

  Nora painted a red velvet robe with an ermine collar onto the slumbering man, put gold buckles on his rubber boots, and propped a jewel-studded crown on top of his fisherman’s hat. She gave the tail-wagging mutt that sat at the edge of the porch a jeweled collar and a spiked tail, and instead of his mouth being open to merely bark, an anemic puff of smoke seeped out. With the peeling paint of the house and the amount of crap piled inside like some sort of floating junkyard, it was an odd juxtaposition, and that was Nora’s intention. She named the painting “The Swamp Is His Moat” and signed it with a flourish as soon as it was dry.

  Nora knew she had Matt to thank for the inspiration behind the painting. She would have never considered paddling into the swamp on her own. Thoughts of the aftermath in his carport had kept her up all that evening — her skin prickling at the memory of his touch. Heart racing at a phantom echo of his deep voice in her ear. The thought of his strong body. Gentle spirit. The way he looked at her like she had some value. Then she’d run away like a coward because she didn’t know what else to do.

  She took a picture of the large canvas and emailed it to Bennie. Bennie, still going on and on about Chad, enthusiastically asked when she should drive down to fetch it.

  “Don’t worry about that,” Nora said when she called. Now that she had a roof and four walls to hold everything in, she could actually afford to leave the house without worrying about theft. “I’ll drive it up myself. I’ve got some things I need to get done in Baltimore.”

  “Anything I can help with?”

  “No, honey. I need to do this myself.”

  *

  In the early morning of the following Monday as he was walking out onto his deck, preparing to head to the fishery, Matt found Nora waiting on his steps. He looked at her with surprise, standing there dressed in slim black pants and a long burgundy sweater that set off the warm undertones in her skin. On top of her head she wore a brimmed cable-knit cap, but had neglected to push all of her hair up into it as one plaited lock tried to escape just over her ear. Matt’s gaze fell to it, fingers itching to touch her. She had taken the trouble to put on a bit of eyeliner and dab some shimmering blush on her cheeks that made her look radiant.

  Matt opened his mouth to say something, but before he could spit out the apology he thought Nora deserved for his behavior after their outing, she said, “I have to be in D.C. by lunchtime to deliver a painting before the gallery owner leaves for his Thanksgiving vacation.”

  “You finished another painting?”

  She looked down at her black leather boots. “Yeah. Only Bennie has seen it.”

  Matt nodded and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He tried not to feel hurt. “What’s it of?”

  Nora met his gaze and cringed. “I’ll show you a picture when I get back. I should be home late tonight if you want to come over. I have heat now.”

  Matt said nothing. He appreciated the invitation. It was a door he’d been wishing she’d open, but he was afraid of her tentativeness. He didn’t know what it meant.

  “Hey, the reason I came over is to let you know if you wanted to hunt while I was gone, it’s fine with me. I wanted to thank you for taking me out on your boat.” She put her hand into the kangaroo pocket of her sweater and pulled out a tri-folded sheet of paper. “It helped me paint something I would have never thought of otherwise.”

  Matt took the “Permission to Hunt” document and examined it quietly.

  “I figured that as long as I’m not here, I don’t have to worry about getting shot through my windows,” she said, forcing a laugh.

  Matt re-folded the paperwork and pressed it back at Nora. “I don’t want that.” When Nora didn’t immediately take it back, he pulled open her pocket and placed it inside.

  Her face fell. “I don’t understand. I thought … ”

  “Nora.” He gripped her shoulders gently and forced her to look up into his eyes. “I don’t want you thinking the only reason I want to spend time with you is so I can chase deer on the property line.”

  Matt could see her struggle to swallow as she looked at her idling car or the empty fields or anywhere besides Matt’s eyes. “Isn’t it?”

  “No!” he hissed, dropping his hands from her shoulders and using them to rake through his untended hair. “That’s what I wanted at first, yes. But that’s before I met you. Hunting’s not important to me rig
ht now. I don’t want you feeling unsafe.”

  He reached a hand out to cup her chin, but Nora took a couple of steps back, the butter-soft soles of her flat boots making no noise as she retreated from him. Her face wore a fearful grimace Matt didn’t understand.

  “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you later?” She looked at him warily. Matt nodded and stood there on the deck, feeling utterly perplexed, fondling his truck keys as he watched her drive away.

  *

  “So, that’s it, then? It’s all through?” Nora asked the suited woman seated beside her at the table. People were filing out of the room and the entire procedure had taken surprisingly little time.

  “That’s it,” her lawyer said, clicking the tabs on her hard-sided briefcase shut. “Smart of him to not try to get more of the money you earned during the marriage. That would have been shameful given his complete lack of support for your career.”

  Nora let out a deep breath. “So, legally, I can drop his name now?”

  “Yup. Go on and notify the DMV and Social Security Administration. You can use your divorce decree as proof.”

  Nora’s maiden name was Fredrickson and although she took her husband’s name after they married at twenty-four, she still conducted business under her old name. Changing all those bills sent to Nora Gutierrez would be an onerous task, but one she looked forward to. Nora and Elvin had only been married for a year before he moved out of the home they shared, claiming that Nora wasn’t committed to the marriage since she practically locked herself up when working on her art. He started finding other ways to entertain himself and, more critically, other company to keep.

  Nora was aware that her art was her greatest gift and also her biggest fault. When she visualized a painting, she needed to get it on canvas immediately for fear the imagery would leave her. She sometimes even ate while painting, and had more than once fallen asleep while at her easel. After they’d been separated for a couple of years with no desire from either party to reconcile, Nora finally filed for divorce. Due to the backlog in the court system, it took almost another full year to get a court date. Nora was glad to put it behind her. She could move on now and not feel so guilty about feeling a certain way about a man who most definitely wasn’t her husband. She hadn’t even told Matt she had a husband.