Free For All (Red Light, Book Four)

by Jayne Rylon

  “So, is this the reason you’ve been absent lately?” Elderly people fascinate me with their frankness. It’s as though they don’t have time to waste on circuitous paths paved with politeness. The thick Dutch he poses his question in reminds me we’ve left the city behind. A few miles can make a big difference. I wonder how much Rick will admit to his less cosmopolitan mentor about me and my profession. Can he still be proud of me, even here?

  “Do you blame me, Adelbert?”

  “Not in the least.” The older man squints at me then nods. “She’s as beautiful as you claimed. Maybe more. This is your special window lady, yes?”

  Several vertebrae in my neck crack when I whip my stare between them both.

  “Absolutely. I’d like to introduce you to Sarah.” Rick nudges me toward the gentleman with a supportive hand on the base of my spine.

  Adelbert reaches for my fingers more deftly than I would have believed possible to press a kiss to my knuckles. “Enchanted, dear.”

  “I could say the same.” I’m not sure what makes me lean in and hug him, but I’ve long since learned to trust my instincts. “Why do I suspect I have you to blame for teaching Rick to be so devilishly charming?”

  If I’m not mistaken, a blush stains the older man’s cheeks. Adorable.

  “He’s done his best with me. I think all those years of lectures are finally paying off.” Rick’s grin borders on stupid with affection. I can’t help but fall a little more in love with him.

  “I’m glad you listened to my advice, zoon.” The smile Adelbert wings first at Rick then at me is bursting with kindness despite his very crooked front tooth. I’m surprised I don’t melt into a puddle of goo on the uneven ceramic.

  “Sarah hasn’t spent much time beyond the city limits. Mind if I show her around your big backyard?” Rick gestures to a map, shellacked to a board hanging on the wall, of the nearby nature preserve. The yellow haze of polyurethane enhances its rustic charm though it makes the name Oostvaardersplassen more difficult to read.

  “Of course not. Take the canoe, zoon. Today’s a great day. Calm, warming up quite a bit and I hear the herons returning lately.”

  “It might just go from good to perfect, thanks.” Rick strokes my hair, brushing an errant curl off my cheek. He tucks it behind my ear. “Why don’t you have a cup of tea while I get everything ready? Adelbert has this amazing loose-leaf oolong with cinnamon I’m sure you’d enjoy.”

  “That does sound delicious.” When he nudges my chin, I tip my lips up to accept his chaste kiss.

  “I’ll be right back.” Our fingers drag across each other until the very last possible instant. The loss of my connection with him makes me sigh. He walks backward a few steps, staring into my eyes. “I promise I’ll be quick.”

  Right before his shoulders bump the door, he turns and disappears out the rear entrance.

  “Would you care for anything with your tea?” Adelbert shifts on his stool.

  “Please, there’s no need for you to get up. I can manage if you’ll tell me where everything is.” I pat his thigh. He concedes with a grateful nod. For a few minutes I take direction until savory steam rolls off the steeping brew, enough for two cups.

  “You’re very much alike.” Adelbert leans his elbow on the counter, dropping his chin into his palm. He doesn’t need his spectacles to peer at me, a little too close for comfort. “Generous. Intuitive. Careful yet strong. But you arrive there from such different approaches. It’s quite fascinating.”

  My chuckle holds a note of nervousness, apparent even to me.

  “Sorry, sorry.” He relaxes. “Hazel would swat me upside the head for overanalyzing. I can’t help myself though. Did you know there are only about two hundred residents in Watergang? It’s not very often we meet new people out here. Especially not one as important as you obviously are to our Rick.”

  “Hazel?” Something in his voice sounds like mine when I refer to Neuhaus truffles. I latch on to the easiest of his revelations.

  “My wife.” His gnarled finger points generally toward the cash register behind the bar. I pause to examine the black-and-white photograph, yellowed like the map and bent on the edges. A gorgeous woman with a devious twinkle in her eye sits sideways across Adelbert’s lap. Her hand rests over his heart. “We never had children. She loved Rick as if he were her own.”

  “How long were you married?”

  “Fifty-three years.” He shook his head. “Not long enough. She passed away two winters ago. Cancer.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  He accepts the tea and my condolences with a nod.

  “So, you really are the one I owe for teaching Rick true love is possible, if rare.” I sip the steamy drink then whisper, “Thank you. If it weren’t for his persistence, I might never have come to believe it myself.”

  “From the first time he wandered out here, looking for peace, a quiet place away from the complications of urban life—something simpler than the confusion he’d always known—I wondered if it would be possible to convince Rick not all chaos is bad. Love is a fantastic mixture of untamed emotion. Exhilarating and frightening at times. Never boring.” Adelbert smiles. “I should have known once he met the right woman, there’d be no resisting.”

  “How can you be so sure?” I run my fingertip along the delicate handle of my teacup. “About the right aspect, I mean. I’m not exactly every man’s aspiration. A one-night fantasy, maybe.”

  “Don’t apologize for who you are.” Stern undertones catch me off guard. Hints of the man he used to be shine through Adelbert’s gentle complacency. “Life is an adventure and he’s chosen you to explore it with him. When you truly love someone, it’s hard to imagine you’re good enough. That you’re everything they want or need. I never lived up to what my wife deserved. Hazel assured me she felt the same despite how often I insisted it was untrue. I would laugh. She was the best thing to happen to me. But I could see the serious cast to her pretty brown eyes when she would become distraught. She sincerely believed every unfounded worry.”

  “It’d be impossible for a woman not to fall madly in love with you, Adelbert.” I lean over to kiss his forehead then clasp his free hand in mine as we sit, sipping our drinks in silence for a while. I squeeze his fingers when I notice the tremor in them. My mind spins through several possibilities for distraction until one seems right. “I noticed your orchids in the window. I love to stroll through the flower market and pick up pretties for my enclosed porch. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a blue variety before.”

  “Oh that! It was introduced earlier this year. No one knows if they’re really a new species or if the gardeners devised a method to infuse the blossoms with dye. Cynics are saying they’re using a technique like when you put cut carnations in a vase with food coloring and the petals pick up the shades. They don’t believe it’s possible to for the universe to create something that vibrant.” He meets my stare. “I can’t wait for the plant to lose those petals.”

  “Why?” I tip my head and peer directly into his eyes.

  “Because when it comes out of dormancy and I see the blooms again, I’m positive they’ll be bright blue. I might have joined the doubters in my younger years until my Hazel converted me to optimism. Thank you for reminding me of that.” He shakes his head as though coming out of a daze before gifting me with a smile that lights up the room. “You must make a fortune through that window of yours.”

  “She’s very popular in the district.” Can I be imagining the way Rick’s chest puffs up at that?

  It’s hard to see more than his silhouette with the sunlight limning his frame. Maybe the open door had something to do with the obliteration of the shadows. Either way, I’m glad to have him at my side once more. I snuggle into his embrace as he puts his arm around my shoulders.

  “I don’t doubt it. It took her less than ten minutes to have me spilling my guts.” Adelbert releases my fingers then shoos us both with hands that seem less gnarled than before. “Enough chat
ting with an old fart. Go. Have fun. Enjoy the day and each other. Zoon, I hope you remember what your Aunt Hazel taught you.”

  “Yeah. I do.” He refuses to meet my questioning gaze. “She also had impeccable timing though.”

  “True.” Adelbert nods. “You’ll know when it’s right.”

  “Right for what?” I peek up but Rick avoids my glance.

  “We’ll be back for dinner if you’d like me to cook.”

  Dinner? It’s not even lunch and I’m hardly Jane Goodall. I’m not sure I can survive an entire day in the wilderness.

  Rick deflects my curiosity when he teases, “Sarah’s pretty awful in the kitchen.”

  I smack his flat stomach with the back of my hand, drawing a laugh from the men on either side of me.

  “Hey, we all have our faults. Adie is grumpy in the morning. I have too many to count. You’re damn near flawless. Give me at least one thing to pick on you for. Deal with it.”

  I’ll gladly take a little ribbing to put that amazingly imperfect smile on Adelbert’s face once more. My new friend nods. “I’d enjoy your company very much. And that herbed chicken dish with the cheesy potato thing is pretty damn tasty. I’ll prepare the ingredients.”

  “Deal.” Rick rests his hand on Adelbert’s shoulder for a moment before angling toward the exit.

  “See you soon.” I hug the old man before threading my hand through Rick’s proffered elbow. I rest my head on his shoulder for a moment or two, wondering how many times I’ll be pleasantly surprised by the man I love during my lifetime. Though he consistently raises the bar on himself, he has no trouble clearing the hurdles.

  “We loved with a love that was more than love.”

  ~Edgar Allan Poe

  I gawk as we cross a modest yet lush backyard to the narrow rivulet that dead ends behind Adelbert’s cafe. A canoe drifts at the far reach of a lead rope, tied to the wooden slats that disappear into the shallow, black water. “We’re going in there?”

  “Are you concerned about the size of my ditch?” Rick grins. “It gets bigger. Don’t worry, baby.”

  I can’t help but laugh as we pass several overgrown flowerbeds. “It’s not the largest I’ve seen but far from the smallest. Plenty to get the job done, I suppose.”

  “Thanks. I think. Anyway, this is how everyone gets around here. There aren’t any streets that lead to the main square of town. You could cut across the islands from house to house. This is faster.” He gestures toward the old church steeple in the distance. “And it’s a hell of a lot more fun than hopping in a car, or riding the tram, to a crowded market anyway.”

  “I trust you.” I grasp his hand then allow him to lower me into the wobbly canoe.

  “Good. Stay in the center.” He hands me an oar. “And when you have to duck for a bridge, don’t lean to the side unless you feel like swimming. It might be a little chilly for that today.”

  He squats to drop his backpack into the space between us then slides onto his seat in the canoe as if it were as stable as one of the cement benches we’ve cuddled on in Vondelpark. I follow his lead, paddling equally on the opposite side of our pod. We slice through the glassy surface, working together. Water ripples around us, lulling me.

  The quaint gathering of houses could be a Vermeer come to life or maybe Jacek Yerka’s The Spring Labryinth, which I saw on special exhibition at the Stedelijk once. Exquisite fauna ranges from the natural sprawl of water lilies to the charming potted plants on the docks. Vines climb wooden bridges—vastly different in their design and coloring—which span from neighbor to neighbor, ensuring each manufactured island is anchored in the surreal landscape to another. Periodically we pass a windmill that still pumps water from the synthetic land, relegating it to its proper place in the dike.

  I haven’t felt such a strong affinity, a rightness, since the moment I stepped onto my houseboat during a real estate tour, or maybe since the night I slept with Rick for the first time outside my window on Christmas Eve.

  He tucks his paddle over his lap then leans forward until his nose must meet his knees, impressing me with his limber flexibility. “Watch your head, Sarah. This one is extra low.”

  I follow his lead, unfolding once sunlight warms the back of my neck, proclaiming it’s safe. We continue to wind through the maze of still water in silence.

  A cat watches us pass from his perch on a crumbling stone wall like a sentinel guarding his kingdom from invaders. He stares with a level of haughty derision only a feline can muster. I’m so focused on the village, the assortment of ducks bobbing beside us, and the gorgeous old church rising from the fabricated land that I could never navigate the return to Adelbert’s cafe on my own. Luckily I won’t have to.

  Rick doesn’t turn around when we come to a larger channel. Instead, he raises his voice. “I’ll need your help for a few minutes. Then you can go back to sightseeing and letting me do most of the work.”

  If he were closer, I’d spank him with my paddle for that irreverent tone. Not that it would do a lick of good against his solid derriere. Still, it could be fun. An idea for later…

  “We’re going to cross Kanaaldijk. This one heads straight into Amsterdam so traffic is steady. Mind any larger boats and their wake. It’s warming up out here but I still wouldn’t want you soaking, exposed to the breeze. After this, we’ll be set.”

  “Aye, aye, captain.”

  He laughs but not for long. Together we dip our oars deeper and pull, propelling our craft across the much wider waterway, battling modest waves that feel enormous in the little boat. The exertion keeps me toasty. Or maybe that’s a side effect of studying the interplay of Rick’s fine muscles beneath his light jacket. Damn, he’s gorgeous.

  Without instruction I match my strokes to his so we glide steadily. My paddle mirrors his to ensure our trajectory remains a straight line. Without me, he’d be turning circles. Same goes double for me.

  As we continue, cottages grow sparse then fade away altogether. Now it’s just the two of us, floating through this strange, quiet paradise. The splash of disturbed frogs cannonballing into the marsh and the frequent call of a host of waterfowl herald our passage. I recognize the bitterns and cranes that occasionally visit my houseboat’s deck.

  I gasp in surprise when we round a bend and a lean cow munches on grass less than a foot away at the edge of her spongy roost on the bog island. For a quarter of an hour or more, we enjoy the natural songs without interruption. Until Rick breaks our comfortable hush. He points with his oar. “See that streak of white? Over there?”

  I peek up in time to descry the flash made by dark feathers covering a very large wingspan. The stark edging is almost as bright as the sunlight it blocks an instant before the bird disappears behind a tree at the edge of our liquid highway. “What was that?”

  “A white-tailed eagle.” His awed murmur comes low and fast. “People used to think they were extinct. I remember Adelbert telling me stories about them as though they were already legendary. I might not have believed him when he swore they’d take your breath away until I spied one myself. Larger, more pure and inspiring than any secondhand retelling could capture. That was not so long ago. Just a few years, I guess. The first naturally occurring mated pair since their decline was spotted here in this preserve.”

  Somehow it feels right that I met Rick about that time myself. Virginal white might not be my color of choice, but I think what we have might be more rare than even his beloved aviators.

  “I helped Adelbert build shelters for them, raise awareness, things like that.” He shrugs though I haven’t said anything. “Not much, really. Now there are several dozen. The population is stronger every year.”

  “I believe that. Between the two of you, I bet you’re capable of nurturing anything to its full potential.”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  I’m not sure I heard him correctly. Before I can ask, he guides the bow of our craft into the reeds. “And they say women make bad drivers.”

  “V
ery funny.” He latches on to a metal hoop, which dangles from a post I hadn’t noticed beneath the brambles. “We’re here.”

  “Where is this?” I scan the area. No landmarks make it appear different than the hectares of wilderness we passed along our route.

  “I’m not sure it’s anywhere in particular. Except exactly where we’re meant to be.” He climbs from the canoe, reaches for the backpack, straps it on then extends his hand.

  I twine my fingers with his warmer ones and allow him to usher me onto not-quite-dry land. “I must have been in the boat a little too long. Feels like we’re still moving. Just like home.”

  “It’s not your imagination.” He steals a quick kiss despite my attempt to turn the peck into something that lingers. “The bog islands are basically floating. If you jump up and down, you can feel them bounce.”

  My hand clenches on his when he demonstrates.

  “Okay. Enough of that.” I frown. “I’m afraid you’ll fall right through.”

  “Uh, maybe in spots.” He tosses me the asymmetrical grin I adore. “Stick to the path and you’ll be fine.”

  “I’m not straying a step from your side.” I follow close on his heels as he heads deeper inland. “You know where we parked, right?”

  He doesn’t bother to acknowledge my nerves. He marches onward until the sea of reeds and plants threatens to swallow us. A faint trail marks the passageway.

  “I have to admit Adelbert put on a pretty good show, though once you know him a little better, you’ll spot his tells as easily as I did.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I nearly run into Rick’s strong back when he pauses in front of me.

  “He went all out for us, didn’t he?” The faraway rasp of his question spurs me beyond the bounds of my patience. I squeeze past him, careful not to trod on the wildflowers in the early stages of unfurling. “He must have guessed I planned to ask you—”