He Found Me

by Whitney Barbetti

  I didn’t realize I’d drifted off until I heard Julian’s voice at my ear. “Andra. Wake up.”

  I soaked up the last bits of my nap, savoring the luxury of it, before I eased my eyes open. He was leaning over me, blocking the sun from my eyes. His eyebrows were scrunched together in concern. “Was I asleep that long?”

  He leaned away from me and ran a hand through his hair. “No, just an hour.” He didn’t look at me again and I felt uneasy. I sat up and pulled my knees up to my chest, hugging them.

  Whatever had darkened Julian’s demeanor was gone in an instant and he stood up, holding a hand out. I noticed our picnic had been cleaned up and the cooler was missing.

  “I brought it back to the campsite. Come on, let’s go out on the lake.” I shook off the unease I’d felt and followed him, hand in his. About a hundred feet down the beach was a narrow dirt trail. Julian motioned for me to stay put while he jogged up the trail, weaving around large rock formations and brush.

  I turned towards the water and took in the calm. I slipped my boots off and then my socks before wading into the water. The water was cool, evidence of the spring temperatures and the snow run off of the mountain keeping the water cold, but not unbearably.

  I dug my toes into the sandy bottom, enjoying the feel of the grains sifting through my toes when I lifted them back up. I did it three more times before I heard Julian coming back down the trail. Keeping my toes in the sand, I turned my head towards his direction. He was carrying a beat up canoe. I couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be blue or white. Weathered with time or neglect, the paint was chipped all across the planks that held it together.

  Julian’s grin was reminiscent of a little boy and I couldn’t help but smile back as I turned around fully to face him. He kicked his tennis shoes and socks off before sliding the canoe in the water, gesturing towards me to hop in.

  He rowed us out towards the middle of the lake while I looked out and around. The lake wasn’t huge, but it was surrounded with rock and trees, and situated at the base of a valley that butted up to mountains on one side. It was private, peaceful, and one of the most beautiful places I’d laid my eyes on.

  “Tell me about one of your books.” I was turned around, facing Julian, one hand trailing across the surface of the lake.

  Julian had an eyebrow raised. “Really? That’s what those little paragraphs on the back of a book are for, you know.”

  I lifted my hand and flicked drops of water at his face. “No, you don’t say?” I said with mock surprise. “You know I don’t own any of your novels. All I know is that you write mysteries.” I stretched my legs across one of the benches in the boat while we softly rocked in the middle of the lake.

  Julian pulled the oars into the boat, grazing my bare thigh with one of the wet paddles. I knew he’d done it on purpose, in hopes that I would be annoyed, but he was sorely mistaken. Dirt, slime, grease – none of it bothered me. I was meant for this environment.

  He eased back and lifted his legs to rest beside mine on the same bench, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark grey cargo shorts.

  “The book I’m working on now is about a single mom who lives a modest life. No frills. She never eats out, doesn’t own anything of value. She has one child, the love of her life.” He pulled one hand out of his pocket and ran his fingers through his hair, then back again, scratching the strands back into a messy style. “What no one knew was that she was sitting on a massive estate. Over a million in the bank.”

  “How? And why was she living so modestly?”

  Julian shrugged. “It’s rumored that her parents were millionaires. She inherited their fortune in a trust. And no one knows why she chose to live modestly. There are theories that she didn’t want anyone to know, that something would happen to her. Another theory is that someone found out, because she was murdered, leaving her child an orphan. The mystery part of my novel is who did it and why.”

  “Well that’s no happily-ever-after story, Julian.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “I don’t write happily-ever-afters. I write tragedies.”

  Silence hung between us then. I pulled my hand out of the water and shook it, releasing the drops that clung to my fingertips. I looked out towards the sun, squinting. “Why?” I asked, swinging my head towards Julian.

  Julian looked as though he’d been lost in thought and stared at me, confused.

  “Why do you write tragedies?”

  “Why don’t you read tragedies?” he asked in response. His eyes were guarded, trained on mine, compelling me to release a secret.

  I narrowed my eyes. Because I’ve lived through my fair share of tragedies. I didn’t say this out loud, but the look on Julian’s face told me his answer was the same. He stared at me, unsmiling. So I chose to say something else.

  “Because I prefer love stories.”

  He tilted his head to the side, and released the tension that had formed around his mouth before he smiled crookedly. “Which is interesting, because you don’t seem like a sappy kind of girl.”

  I shrugged. “I’m not. But I like knowing that life isn’t always cruel.”

  “Ah,” Julian said, leaning back. “Who said love can’t be cruel?”

  “People can be cruel. They make choices to be cruel. Love is not a choice. It’s a force of nature.” I folded my arms across my chest.

  “I disagree.” He faced me and mirrored my pose.

  “Tell me a story then, storyteller. Tell me a story where love was cruel.”

  “You’re asking for a tragic love story then. Something reminiscent of Romeo and Juliet?”

  “Love wasn’t cruel for Romeo and Juliet. They were practically babies and their families were comprised of assholes. Tell me something new.”

  Julian glided a hand along his jawline, his long fingers scratching the stubble that grew there. “Okay. Have you heard the story of Heloise and Abelard?”

  I shook my head. “Tell me.”

  “This is a true story. And I may be a little rusty on some details, but you’ll get the idea.” He rubbed his hands together and told the story of Heloise and Abelard.

  “Heloise was a brilliant woman who lived in the early to mid-twelfth century France. She was considered to be of a lower social standing, and she was a ward of her uncle Fulbert, who was a priest. Fulbert loved her. She was his pride and joy, and he ensured that she received the very best education. She was a scholar and well renowned throughout Western Europe for her intelligence. And not only that, she was considered to be very beautiful as well – a complete package.” Julian winked at me and I laughed before motioning for him to continue with the story.

  “So then comes Peter Abelard, a philosopher and considered one of the greatest thinkers of that time. He was of nobility, but had chosen to be a philosopher instead of accepting knighthood. He was also a priest, like Fulbert, and was wowed by Heloise, by her intelligence. He persuaded Fulbert to allow him to teach Heloise. He couldn’t afford to live in his current home while studying, so he told Fulbert that he would offer tutoring to Heloise in exchange for room and board. Abelard was more than twenty years Heloise’s senior, but that didn’t stop them from developing feelings for each other.

  “Unfortunately, Fulbert discovered their affair. He was grief-stricken and separated the two lovers. It was discovered that Heloise was pregnant and Abelard sent her to his sister’s house for the remainder of the pregnancy and delivery. Abelard went to Fulbert and begged for his forgiveness and asked for permission to marry Heloise. Fulbert agreed, but Heloise did not want to marry Abelard.”

  “Why? Didn’t they love each other?”

  Julian nodded. “But Heloise loved Abelard selflessly. What penalties, she said, would the world rightly demand of her if she should rob it of so shining a light? See, she would rather be lonely and socially disgraced than allow Abelard to marry her, worried that their union would distract himself from studying. But Abelard insisted and Heloise relented to a secret marriage after
their son was born. Heloise left her son with Abelard’s sister and stayed with her uncle while Abelard went back to teaching. But Fulbert was still angry and spread word of what really happened, which caused great embarrassment to Heloise. Abelard brought Heloise to the convent where she’d been brought up to protect her. When Fulbert heard he had brought her there, he was enraged, assuming Abelard had brought her there to get rid of her, forcing her to become a nun. He plotted revenge with his friends and his friends broke into Abelard’s room one evening and castrated him.”

  I nodded, understanding the significance. “Because to them, that part of his body had caused great embarrassment for Heloise?”

  “Yes. And Abelard was, understandably, filled with shame, so he became a monk while Heloise became a nun. They lived separate lives, and were never together until death, when their bodies were buried next to one another.”

  I sat back and frowned. “Well that’s depressing.”

  Julian laughed, his features relaxing after telling the story. I’d seen several of the expressions that his face held, but this, this carefree and happy face, was my favorite.

  “Yes, it’s sad. But Abelard and Heloise wrote each other beautiful letters, and never married anyone else, unless you count their marriage to the Church.”

  I chewed my lip in thought. “So they had a short time together and then nothing? Spending their entire lives apart? That has to be torture. Death to one of them would have been kinder.”

  “See? Love can be cruel. The love for his niece drove Fulbert to strip her lover of the part that made him a man.”

  I digested the story for a minute. “Man,” I said, stretching my arms down my legs and scratching my ankles. “Love can be a bitch, can’t it?”

  “You say that as if you haven’t loved.”

  I bristled at his words. “Of course I love. I love Rosa, my brother, the ranch.” I scrunched up my nose. “I love the grass under my feet and the air in my lungs.” I met his eyes. “I know what love is, what it feels like.”

  “But romantic love? Have you been ‘in love’ before?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest again. “Well this is getting rather personal, isn’t it?” The direction this conversation had taken made my legs itch to run. Too bad I was in the middle of a large body of water.

  “Is it?” Julian asked, leaning forward, encroaching on my space. I backed up as far as I could go, which was another six inches in this small canoe. He loomed over me, casting a shadow over my face. All I saw was his face. He wore a lazy smile, the dimple dipped deep in his cheek.

  “Yes.” I licked my lips. The movement drew his gaze there and my breathing picked up speed, my chest rising and falling. My sensory system was completely wrapped up in Julian. His sandalwood and cinnamon scent invading my nose and my heart’s rapid beating in response to his proximity drowning out all other sounds. The feel of his fingers pushing back the tendrils that clung to my cheeks and the way he looked down at me, as if committing my face to memory. The only sense being deprived was taste.

  As if he could sense my thoughts, Julian brought his mouth down to mine, just resting his lips against mine for a minute. My heart shuddered. Julian slowly tilted his lips up, lightly grazing them against my top lip. My eyes were closed, relishing this moment.

  The kiss was a tease; the lightest caress of his mouth moving over mine. I felt him move right before I felt his lips on my forehead. “Come on,” he whispered, his hands finding mine. “Let’s head back for dinner.” He helped me sit up before grabbing the oars and sliding into the water.

  He always seemed so calm, so collected, while hormones raged within my body. I stared at him in annoyance before he smiled and winked. “You do use kissing as a weapon. You asked a personal question and then kissed me brainless,” I said indignantly.

  “Don’t be cranky, Andra.” When I glared at him, he shrugged his shoulders. “You didn’t answer my question anyway.”

  “No,” I said, trying to soften the frustration that climbed into my voice. “I haven’t been ‘in love’ before.” It was on the tip of my tongue to direct the same question back to him, but I bit my tongue instead. Julian watched me carefully, knowingly, a small smile on his lips as he rowed us back to shore.

  I helped him pull the canoe back to the spot he had hidden it. He had told me it was his canoe, but he left it here for others to use. It hadn’t been stolen yet, so he counted himself fortunate.

  We walked back up to the camp and ate roasted hot dogs and coleslaw on paper plates. I hadn’t looked at my watch all day until this moment. “I can’t believe it’s already three. But at the same time, I can’t believe it’s only three.”

  Julian looked up from his paper plate and glanced at his watch. “This is a late lunch. I have kabobs and s’mores on the menu for dinner tonight.”

  I was struck by all the thought he’d put into this date and the preparation. I stood up and dragged my camp chair closer to his. “Thanks.”

  He looked at me quizzically.

  “For this.” I gestured my paper plate at our surroundings. “I haven’t been camping in years and even then, I can’t remember it being this easy, this relaxing.”

  Julian leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, bringing his face closer to mine. “I enjoy this too you know. It’s not all for your benefit.”

  I looked at him a moment, contemplating. His smirk at his sarcastic comment made me feel justified in grabbing a handful of coleslaw from my plate and smearing it on his face. So I did it. Unfortunately for me, Julian didn’t miss a beat and smeared a handful of coleslaw in my hair, gliding his slimy hand over my face at the end.

  Out of coleslaw, I improvised. I picked my hot dog out of its bun and slapped him in the face with it, sending splatters of ketchup, mustard, and relish everywhere.

  Julian’s expression was perfection. Laughter bubbled up out of my throat as I stood up and backed away, still clutching the hot dog in my hand. Julian looked around before dunking what remained of his bun into his red solo cup of water. He then squeezed the soggy bun in his hands for effect, letting me see the gooey mush seeping between his fingers. I backed up and held the hot dog out in warning.

  “You got me twice, Andra. It’s payback time.”

  “Nuh-uh.” I was shaking my head back and forth, walking backwards. He advanced towards me, an animal stalking its prey. His stride was longer than mine, so I turned away from him and took off running down to the water.

  He caught up to me in only two heart beats and then one heart beat later, my face was plastered with soggy hot dog bun. I was laughing so hard that I had to grip onto his waist to keep from doubling over. A moment later, he picked me up and hauled me over his shoulder as he walked into the water before unceremoniously dunking me under.

  I came up sputtering, still laughing. Julian was laughing too, his face a mixture of coleslaw and streaks of red and yellow. “You’ve got something on right here,” I motioned, pointing at my cheekbone before dramatically waving my hand all over every part of my face.

  “Oh right here?” Julian asked playfully, wiping the smear of coleslaw in his hairline. “Did I get it?”

  I bit my lip. “Yeah, you’re good.” His eyebrows were filled with ketchup and mustard, his scruff sprinkled with relish.

  Julian swam closer to me in the chest-deep water. “You’ve still got some on your face. Let me help you with that.”

  I held my face up towards him and a second later a heavy splash of water hit my face. My eyes were closed, but my mouth was not, so I ingested a significant amount of lake water. I opened my eyes and narrowed them as Julian laughed. “Oh, you’re gonna get it.”

  My prior self-defense training came in handy as I reached a leg out, curled it around his and yanked, causing him to lose his balance and go under the water. I felt hands grab my legs under water and I went under a moment later.

  When we both surfaced we were laughing. Julian grabbed my hands and pulled me towards him. I went willingly an
d looped my arms around his neck, his arms around my waist.

  “That was the most fun I’ve had with a food fight,” he said while brushing the hair off my face.

  “You like being smacked in the face with a phallic object?”

  Julian smirked. “Who doesn’t?”

  I rubbed a thumb over his eyebrow, removing what remained of the condiments before gliding my nails through his stubble. Julian’s eyes closed, his long black eyelashes brushing the top of his cheekbones, water streaming down his face. I was suddenly overcome with how truly attractive he was. Strong cheekbones, wide, almond-shaped eyes, strong eyebrows. I let my fingers graze over his features and then brushed the tip of my thumbnail over his lips.

  His eyes opened and I saw the heat in them as he stared at me. “You’re beautiful,” I whispered. I swallowed back the feeling that had settled in my throat.

  He gazed at me for a moment before leaning forward and pressing his lips to mine. We were chest to chest, hearts beating in time. His hands cupped my jawline before he gently tilted my head back, dropping kisses down my throat. A moan trembled out of my throat before his lips moved to my collarbone while his hands moved to my shoulders. I felt his stubble brush my sensitive skin and my body shuddered.

  He kept his lips chaste, never moving lower than my collarbone. My hands gripped his shirt under the water and I tightened my hold. I wanted to pull him even closer. I wanted him to feel the way my skin felt under his touch.

  I moaned his name, involuntarily, and that seemed to snap him out of the spell he was under. He planted one innocent kiss to my nose before I opened my eyes and looked at him with confusion. “Why did you stop?”

  He sighed and moved his hands under water, linking with mine. “You are like a drug to me. Dangerous. Addicting. I can’t get enough of you.” He brought our hands above water and kissed one of my hands, linked with his. “But I want more, more than just a night, more than just a few touches. And I have a feeling that once we cross that line, you will run away.”

  I didn’t bother protesting. He knew my M.O. “You’re a puzzle to me. All the pieces that make up who you are – they intrigue me. I want to figure out a few of those pieces and I want some time to understand you before we take this further.”