Sweet Talk Me

by Kieran Kramer

  After a full minute of navigating their boards, she called back to him, “This is fun!”

  “Isn’t it?” he yelled up to her. He was glad she was taking the lead.

  It was a miracle world, this place. Harrison soaked up the peace. The wind skittering across the top of the water. And there was an egret, poised on one leg, oblivious to their presence.

  When they entered the main estuary that was Biscuit Creek, the wind picked up. The water wasn’t smooth as glass anymore. It wore little ripples on its surface, like hammered silver.

  True’s stance got a little stiffer.

  “You okay?” Harrison asked her.

  “Fine,” she said. “Just adjusting a bit.”

  He had to, as well.

  But the paddleboards were an ideal mode of transportation. Neither he nor True had any problems controlling them. She relaxed her shoulders, looked back at him a few times, and commented on the beauty of the water. The sun. She wondered if they’d see dolphins. Harrison tried not to stare at her butt and to look where he was going—although he could have paddled with his eyes closed, and he’d still have floated down the middle of the creek toward Cornelius’s house.

  “I feel like singing,” he said.

  True laughed. “Go ahead.”

  So he sang “Here Comes the Sun.” He and True both loved the Beatles. She even joined in on the chorus.

  Good Lord above, this was a perfect morning. He wished he could trap it and keep it forever.

  Ten minutes later, they were at Cornelius’s rickety old dock. Landing there was a lesson in humility. First, True tried, and nearly toppled off her board. She shrieked, but then she laughed and he joined in. There was no real danger if either one of them landed in the water. Even so, if someone had to suffer the indignity of falling of the board, he’d rather it was him.

  She clambered onto the dock—damn those short shorts of hers!—and held her paddleboard still so Harrison could come in. He had no problem until his board bumped a piling, and then he almost fell off the back.

  “Noooo!” True cried.

  But he saved himself—walking across stages for ten years had given him something of a cat’s balance—and climbed up onto the silver-gray planks alongside her. He couldn’t help liking that she yelled like a banshee on his behalf.

  “I know it’s no big deal if we land in the water,” she said, almost apologetically. “But it still makes me scream when it’s about to happen.”

  He knew something else that would make her scream, too, but a gentleman tried not to entertain those thoughts when the woman in question was smiling at him like Gidget in that old-timey surfer movie.

  They got their boards up on the dock and went in search of Cornelius. No doubt he’d heard True yelling and should appear any second. His crazy little shack looked almost the same as it had ten years ago—it was tilting maybe ten degrees farther to the east, but it was upright.

  Sure enough, a grizzled old black man appeared at the door.

  “What the hey?” he called when he saw Harrison. “What you doin’ back? I thought you was stayin’ in Hollywood! Or Nashville! Not hangin’ out here with the little people.”

  Harrison let out a belly laugh. When he and Cornelius met in the middle of his front yard, he slung his arm around the old man and pulled him into a tight embrace. “Good to see you, brother.”

  “You, too.” Cornelius gave him a big slap on the back, testament to the fact that he was still in good shape. “Who’s this pretty girl you got wid you?”

  Harrison made the introductions.

  “Oh, yes,” Cornelius said, “I knew your daddy well. He was a good man. A very good man.”

  True’s face lit up. “Thank you.”

  Cornelius beamed at her and gave her a hug. “No way you gettin’ outta here without that.”

  When he released her, she smiled broadly. “I’m so glad to meet you.”

  “Yeah.” Cornelius clapped his hands as if he was preaching the gospel, which he often did at a tiny church up the road. He looked Harrison up and down with those bright eyes of his. “What’s this about? Purely social? Or you got a gig coming up nearby you needin’ a fiddle player for?”

  “Actually, it’s my wedding,” True jumped in.

  Cornelius’s eyes widened. “You two?” He pointed his finger back and forth.

  “No, sir,” Harrison said in jaunty fashion so he didn’t look like he was pining away for True. Which he was, but he wasn’t gonna be a whiner. He’d be nice and cheery if it killed him. “She’s marrying Dubose Waring.”

  Cornelius crinkled up his face. “A Waring, eh?”

  True nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  Cornelius didn’t look too happy. “You’d be the first of the Maybanks and Warings to marry, you know that?”

  “Yes.” True’s face turned a pale pink. “Are—are you interested in playing at the reception?”

  Cornelius scratched the top of his head a few seconds.

  Harrison sure as hell hoped he wasn’t going to say no, for True’s sake. She bit her thumb and waited.

  “Why not?” Cornelius finally said. He grinned at True, then at Harrison. “If this boy brought you here, there must be something special about this wedding. Who am I to say no?”

  True hugged him. “Thank you! Can you bring some fiddle-playing friends with you?”

  He nodded. “I’ll be happy to.”

  They worked out the details of the arrangement, and then Cornelius invited them to stay for lunch. “I got some catfish Mamie Howard fried up for me this morning. I think she’s after me,” he told True with a delighted grin. “Her and Lizzie Wilson both. Lizzie made me some corn bread. And I got some fresh green beans from the garden.”

  “It sounds wonderful,” True said.

  “Cornelius, anytime you and a friend want to come to a concert, you know you just have to let me know,” Harrison told him. “I’ll send a limo here to pick you up, the plane ticket will be at the airport, and I’ll put you up in a nice hotel.”

  Cornelius winked at him. “Once I decide between Lizzie and Mamie, I’ll let you know. But I don’t know if that’ll ever happen. They spur each other on. And I get all the spoils. Give all that up for one concert from a boy who used to sound like a frog? I dunno about that.”

  True giggled.

  “My voice was changing,” Harrison protested. “I was fifteen.”

  Cornelius cackled. “Me and the boys’ll never forget it. Harrison came over and played his new guitar. He was so proud of himself.”

  “I got it on Craigslist,” Harrison said. “It was a banged-up piece of junk, but I loved it.”

  “Even so, the guitar playin’ was pretty good,” said Cornelius. “But then he open his mouth to sing, and he scared all the dogs away. They haven’t come back around to this day.”

  True looked around. “There really aren’t any dogs!”

  “That’s because Cornelius is allergic to ’em,” Harrison said. “And I’m honored that I’m the subject of one of his tall tales.”

  Cornelius laughed until he had to wipe away a tear. True joined in. Harrison took advantage and stole the last piece of catfish.

  It was a great lunch.

  “Come back again, True,” their host told her at his front door when they were leaving. “When you become Mrs. Waring, you can bring your husband with you.”

  “I will,” she promised in a very sweet, polite voice.

  Harrison heard the slight strain. He knew—and she knew—that visiting old men in tiny shacks wasn’t something Dubose Waring would ever go out of his way to do—not unless he had to collect a deposition.

  “As for you”—Cornelius punched Harrison in the arm—“am I gonna see you at this wedding?”

  There was a split-second pause.

  “Of course you will,” True said, then looked at Harrison. “He’s been like a brother to me while Dubose is gone. It was his idea to seek you out, and I’ll always be grateful that he did.”

&n
bsp; Dang. What a bummer. It looked as if he and True had officially gotten over their torrid past. He’d achieved brother status in her eyes.

  Cornelius grinned at him. “Well, that’s good you stickin’ around. I won’t have to wait another ten years.”

  God, that was a long time. Harrison had been a really bad friend. “It won’t be so long next time.”

  And it wouldn’t. He’d come to see Gage a lot more often. Although the prospect of being in the same town with the new Mrs. Waring held no appeal.

  After one more hug, he turned his back on his favorite fiddle player and headed out with True to the dock.

  “The tide’s at a standstill,” Cornelius called after them. “Enjoy!”

  “We will!” Harrison threw him a little salute.

  “Bye, Cornelius!” True waved wildly. She even jumped up and down, as if she couldn’t get enough of seeing him one last time.

  “Bye, young lady! Hey, Harrison?”

  “Yes, sir?

  “It’s not too late to steal her away, you know. And I’d play at your wedding for free.”

  “You old dog!” Harrison yelled.

  Cornelius let loose with his trademark cackle.

  When Harrison looked at True a second later, she’d settled down quicker than bubbles in a can of flat ginger ale. She was standing with her board, ready to put it in the water.

  “You ready?” he asked her.

  “Sure,” she said in a small, tight voice. She knew it. She knew marrying Dubose was all wrong for her.

  She knew Harrison knew, too. But there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing at all.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  True thought the visit with Cornelius had gone really well, except for that little pause he’d made when she said she was marrying Dubose. And then at the end—sheesh! How embarrassing! She didn’t hold it against him or anything, what he’d said about Harrison stealing her away. Older people had the privilege of speaking their minds. But the part that really dampened her spirits was when she realized that Dubose would have no interest in visiting the old man. It made her realize how unalike she and Dubose were—because she’d loved the visit.

  She and her fiancé were different from each other—maybe too different.

  She wouldn’t show that she was upset, though. It was too nice a day. And it would be churlish of her to get moody when Harrison had gone to all this trouble to help her.

  “Thanks so much for arranging the visit,” she told him when they were back on their paddleboards.

  “He’s great, isn’t he?” The wind picked up Harrison’s hair and played with it.

  True was a little jealous. She’d love to run her hands through his hair, just one more time. They were traveling side by side, and she couldn’t help admiring his physique, too. She’d have to be blind not to appreciate his muscles.

  Obviously, country music superstars worked out.

  “He’s a lovely man,” she agreed, and pulled her paddle through the water. She had to put in more effort rowing back home because they had no current at all to help them. “So you went over to Pee Dee Island when you were in high school?”

  “All the time,” Harrison said. “I borrowed the same johnboat you and I used as kids—I just traveled farther afield. Cornelius treated me like family. After Mom died, he had me to supper at least once a week.”

  Regret sliced through True, sharp as the edge of an oyster. “I’m so sorry.” She was mortified at the little catch in her voice and the way her eyes stung. But she deserved the embarrassment. “Our family never invited you to supper. You were alone almost through high school.”

  Harrison’s oar streamed through the water. “It’s what grew the songs in me. All that solitude. I don’t regret it. So neither should you. Your dad helped me, too. He arranged it so DSS wouldn’t place me in foster care.”

  “He did?”

  “Yep. Said I was the best lawn boy he’d ever had. He pulled some strings.”

  “You’re very kind to frame his selfish act so generously,” she said quietly.

  “Not really. He was thinking of me, too. I sensed it. But whatever his motive, the end result worked for me.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Don’t be hard on your dad. I think of myself a lot, too.”

  “Only because you’ve had to.”

  “Don’t give me any breaks. I’ve arranged my life this way.”

  They paddled on a few more minutes in silence. The day was hot. Really hot. The wind on the water wasn’t enough to keep True from sweating. Harrison, too, had a sheen on his brow.

  “You want to take a break and swim?” he asked her. “Cornelius is right. The tide is at a standstill. I wouldn’t mind jumping in.”

  “Sure. I’d love that.”

  He sat on the board and took off his shoes. “I’m diving in.”

  “Good luck,” she said.

  He stood again, grinned at her, then did a perfect dive off the front of his board, propelling it backward. He came up with a swish of wet hair and whooped. “It feels great! Come on in!”

  She laughed as he swam with strong, sure strokes to his board and hung from its edge. “Let’s go, Miss Maybank. It’s plenty deep. You won’t encounter any crabs, I promise you. And we’re in the middle of the channel, so you won’t hit an oyster bed, either.”

  “All right.” She refused to think about crabs. She took off her Sperrys and jumped in, holding her breath.

  Ah, the sensation of landing in cool water! It was so refreshing. It made her downright giddy. Why hadn’t she done this more since she was a kid playing at Sand Dollar Heaven? At the surface, she opened her eyes and laughed out loud. “You’re right. It’s awesome.”

  He’d already grabbed her board and placed the two side by side.

  He swam up to her, and her heart raced. His eyelashes were covered in beads of water. “It’s like the old days, isn’t it?”

  She nodded. “The really, really old days.”

  “Let’s get away from the boards. We could use a little exercise.”

  “Okay.”

  They both swam about a hundred feet, then stopped and treaded water and looked at each other. He was only slightly out of breath. She was actually panting a little.

  “Here we are,” he said.

  He might as well have said Just we two.

  It hung in the air between them.

  The boards bobbed not too far away, an easy escape anytime True wanted to take it. But something kept her there, her hands and feet swirling through the salty creek, which wended its way around them, supporting them from below, a benign presence.

  “I really hope you’ll be happy,” Harrison said out of the blue.

  True gulped. “Thanks.” She ducked under the water to get away from him for a second, then came back up and brushed her hair off her face. He was lying on his back, looking up at the sky. He looked like the boy she remembered on the dock. She missed that boy. But what else was there for them to do but return to the boards?

  “This was a great idea,” she said. “You ready to get back?”

  “Sure.” He swam freestyle again.

  She did the breaststroke this time, wanting to linger, feeling sad for some reason.

  When she got back, he was waiting patiently in between the boards, holding on to them loosely, his chin still in the water.

  She swam right up to him and accidentally kicked her left leg against his. “Sorry.” She backed right up.

  “It’s all right.” He smiled, and her sadness evaporated. His eyes were warm. Accepting.

  Even when he’d seemed to hate her in high school, it wasn’t her he scorned. It was the phony True. He’d always stayed loyal to the girl she really was beneath her mistakes and rationalizations. He’d never forgotten her. And that had helped her so much … there were still times she wasn’t sure who she was. But he always seemed to know.

  Always.

  It was a cozy little space with the paddleboards penning them in.
Only a few inches of cool water separated them as they bobbed gently, face-to-face. Birds cawed from the banks. The wind came in short, easy gusts.

  And then it happened. Harrison leaned forward and kissed her, his mouth wet, salty, and warm. She kissed him back, and it was as natural as breathing. Her mouth was open and wanting. Wanting him.

  He pulled her close with one arm, and she hung there, her legs tangled with his. They fit perfectly, their tongues clashing and exploring like familiar playmates reunited.

  Nothing had changed.

  Oh, God. Nothing had changed at all.

  She moaned in her throat. He pressed his ready erection against her belly, and she reached down with a hand to caress it. Old, old friend, she thought. My lover. My love.

  He ran his hand down her back, into her waistline, and grabbed her bare buttocks. “You’re perfect,” he said, over and over. “Perfect.”

  His words affected her as much as his kisses did. She hadn’t realized how much she’d longed to hear him say them.

  An airplane flew high overhead, but it was enough for True to open her eyes to gather her wits.

  “Harrison,” she whispered.

  It was a plea. But how did you stop when the only man you wanted to kiss was kissing you? When he was saying things that you’d only dreamed you’d hear from him again?

  “I’m sorry,” he said between loud, increasingly passionate kisses that were teetering out of control. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  She ran her hand down the side of his face, over that sculpted cheekbone.

  They stared at each other a few seconds. And then she hung from his shirt, literally, as she unbuttoned it. She even went under water and worked the buttons loose before laying kisses up his belly until she broke the surface again. Then she kissed his chest once more and helped him out of his shirt, throwing it on her paddleboard, where it landed with a splat.

  Neither one of them said a word.

  It was his turn now. He removed her camisole top, and while he did, she caressed him—wherever she could grab purchase—as he boldly peeled the fabric off her. It passed over her face so fast that she didn’t have time even to close her eyes.