I stood in the pool and walked carefully over the rocks, deeper towards the splashing waterfall. I was so caught up in my thoughts that I did not hear the stranger come into the clearing.
“What are you doing here!?” the voice was harsh, stridently breaking into my peaceful reverie. I was so startled that I missed my footing on the smooth rocks below and slipped backwards, my head going underwater. Spluttering with a mouth and nose full of water, I surfaced with a choking gasp, terrified by my momentary blindness.
“Who is it? Who’s there? Get away from me!” the last was a shriek as I felt a hand grab my arm.
“Get off of me! I said get off! I know kung fu, I mean karate. And I have a weapon. I do. Get away!” My threats were interrupted as, in an attempt to push the hand away, I again slipped and went under. Strong hands reached under my shoulders and heaved me up, dragging me kicking and splashing to the poolside.
A coughing tangled mess, I pushed myself over to confront my attacker head on. Only to be brought up short by the sounds of someone laughing.
“So which is it? Karate or kung fu? Either way, I’m reeeeeeally scared.” The familiar voice had a rich deep timbre and his laugh rang out through the forest night.
Wiping the clods of sodden hair out of my eyes, I looked up with my angriest expression. The one my father called the “I’m gonna eat u alive and spit out the pieces and make u wish u had never been born” face. I turned it on full blast and looked straight at Daniel.
He towered over me, amusement crinkling his eyes, a half smile on his face as he surveyed my disheveled state. He wore only a ripped pair of shorts that sat precariously low on his hips. Moonlight played on the tattoo snaking its way over his shoulder as he put his hands on his hips and shook his head.
“And so this weapon of yours? Umm, just where exactly would you be concealing that?” His eyes speculatively surveyed the length of my wet body clothed only in its skimpy black Bendon underwear and bra top.
Furious and horribly self-conscious, I went and grabbed my towel, hastily covering myself before turning to confront this arrogant IDIOT with the full measure of my rage.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Creeping around in the dark, sneaking up on people like that and then scaring them?! And how dare you put your hands on me! You – you – horrible creep!”
His smile was quickly replaced with a cold hard look as he folded his arms, his entire body tensed at my tirade. “Excuse me? Oh I get it, we’re going for a three count – racist, sexist and now I’m a potential rapist. Great. Is there nothing you won’t accuse me of? Leila, last time I checked, this pool didn’t belong to you. I have every right to come swimming here. And when a clumsy female falls over in the water and looks like she’s drowning in only two feet of water – it’s considered gentlemanly behavior to pull her out! In fact, MOST girls would then say, thank you for helping them.” His voice was low but full of venom as he spoke, slowly emphasizing each word.
I withered slightly at his response. “Oh.” I scrambled for defense. “Well, you shouldn’t have scared me like that. THAT wasn’t polite. I mean, it’s the middle of the night out here in the middle of nowhere for goodness sake so of course I was gonna think you were attacking me … or something.”
He arched one eyebrow questioningly. “I don’t know what you were thinking being out here alone anyway! Are you crazy? Yes, this is Samoa and we don’t have the same amount of psycho killers running around like you do back in the States but still, it’s just stupid for a girl to be out swimming in her underwear by herself. What were you thinking?” His tone was derisive.
From outraged offensive, I found myself struggling in defensive mode. “Umm, I know, I mean – I really didn’t think anybody would be out here so late. And I’ve come here a few times now and never seen anyone around. And I didn’t think I was trespassing, so I didn’t know it would cause any trouble, and back home you wouldn’t catch me out by myself in a forest in a million years, but this place is different and it’s just so hot and I can’t sleep and nobody cares what happens to me anyways, oh why am I telling you anything?!” I came to an abrupt halt as tears pricked my eyes and threatened to spill over in my voice.
I felt an awful hollowness in my chest as I realized the truth of my words. Nobody did care. I could get abducted by aliens, hacked to pieces by an axe murderer and my aunt and uncle would probably be relieved to be rid of my pestering presence. My grandmother would pay for the funeral, and shower my grave with lots of ridiculous flowers. But tears and actual loss? I doubted it. And there was definitely something wrong with me and it was getting worse every day and I didn’t know how much longer I could handle it by myself. I was sick. Frightened. And tired. In that moment, a wave of self-pity threatened to drown me. I turned my back on him and took a deep breath to steady myself, steeling for further attack.
There was a heavy pause, then his words in the dusty velvet night surprised me. “Hey, look, I’m sorry, okay? I come here a lot and I was kinda surprised to find anybody else here. And I didn’t mean to scare you.” His voice was gentle and soothing like someone trying to hush a skittery colt.
I hated myself for falling apart in front of him. Willing myself to be calm, I shifted into my artificial cheerfulness. Turning to face him again, I smiled brightly and waved a hand casually.
“Oh, don’t even worry about it. I over reacted. It happens. Look, I’ll get out of your way. Thanks for your help in the water. Have a nice swim.” I grabbed my clothes from the ground and started backing away, ignoring his confused expression. Just smile Leila, I thought to myself. Just smile. Go home and cry like a baby there where nobody can see you. Just keep it together a few minutes longer.
My plan would have worked too. If I hadn’t tripped over a clump of ferns behind me, falling down hard on my overly bright and cheerful backside.
“Owwww! Dammnit!” Once again my outraged shriek pierced the night. Sitting in a bruised cluster of bushes, my feet covered in mud, wet hair plastered to sticky sweaty skin, I (not for the first time) cursed my stupidity at coming to this island. What was I doing here? I was painfully homesick. Which didn’t make sense because I didn’t have a home. I didn’t belong here. But then, I didn’t belong in Washington D.C either. I was a half-caste disappointment to my grandmother. A disturbing reminder to my aunt of a woman it seemed everyone would rather forget. Face it Leila – you’re an in-between nothing and nobody wants you around. Head down on my knees, I gave in to the crushing sobs within. I didn’t care if this stupid boy laughed at me, yelled at me. Or even if he ran a mile. I cried the huge bone-shattering kind of cry that shook to the very core.
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Daniel knelt beside me and then after a hesitant moment, huge arms swept me up out of the mud, carrying me the few steps back to the pool. Too upset to stop, even with the shock of being carried, I just kept sobbing and hiccupping, dimly aware of being gently set down on a smooth rock and of him sitting beside me.
Side by side, shoulders touching, we sat by the glistening waters as I cried. Several months worth of anguish rocked my body as I sat hugging my knees. He didn’t try to make me stop or even try to talk me out of it. He just sat there beside me and let me cry. I don’t know how long the storm of emotion ravaged me, but it felt like hours. Finally, the tears slowed and the sobs receded. Wordlessly, he handed me something to wipe my tear ravaged face. It was my dirty t-shirt. I looked at him questioningly.
He gestured to his ripped shorts with a wry smile. “Sorry, I didn’t come equipped to comfort a damsel in distress.”
In that moment, with eyes swollen beyond belief, scratched muddy legs and arms, and with a sodden towel draped around my thin frame – I had never felt closer to another human being. Not since my Dad lad left me. The night sky stretched overhead, swallowing us in its velvet vastness; the forest breathed us in. The tension within slowly seeped away, replaced by a liquid calmness. Looking into smiling eyes, I felt for the first time in a long ti
me – at peace. Home. The moment seemed to last an eternity as we gazed at each other. His smile faded, replaced with a look of quiet regard. His eyes studied me intently, as if trying to stare into my soul. If it had been anywhere else, any other time, I would have flushed red with embarrassment and looked away. But out here, with the rainforest breathing all around us, it seemed perfectly normal to sit and stare into a strange boy’s eyes, feeling the warmth of his tattooed shoulder next to my skin.
As the moment stretched, I became acutely aware of his breathing. The rise and fall of his perfectly contoured chest. The rip of his muscled arms looped casually around his knees. The curve of his hip resting comfortably beside my own. My calmness faded, replaced with something else. A rising flush of heat that started deep within. A rise that boiled and surged, threatening to overwhelm my calm exterior. I had an insane urge to reach out with trembling fingers and trace the pattern of his tattoo, wanting to feel for myself the patterned cut in his skin. How badly had it hurt, I wondered? Had there been much blood? Why had he done it? At the thought of his pain, I felt a twinge. Bemused, I realized why – it hurt to think of him hurting. This stranger. This painfully handsome boy, striding strong through the school with confidence and yet, sitting here beside me trying to give me comfort.
As if sensing the shift in my thoughts, he smiled. This time, it sent a jolt of pure electricity through me. The smile crinkled his green eyes and revealed a dimple in his left cheek. He reached tentatively, as if unwilling to break the moment, and gently brushed a strand of wet hair away from my eyes. His fingers were surprisingly cool on my hot face. I had to bite my lip to stop an answering smile from overwhelming me – trying to downplay the swirling heat of emotions. I was terrified he would sense I was struggling with a serious attack of physical attraction to him. His earlier words echoed in my mind. Of course, that’s how he thought of me. I was a ‘stupid’ girl who did weird things like go swimming in my underwear by myself in the middle of the night, scream at people who surprised me and then cry all over them at the drop of a hat. I was mortified by my weakness.
I took a deep breath and smiled weakly, breaking our locked gaze to look at the forest around us.
“Boy, you must think I’m such an idiot, crying like that. Whew, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” He was puzzled.
I looked back at him. “I didn’t mean to fall apart like that. Thanks for being so cool about it.”
He shrugged his shoulders, moonlight dancing on his bicep muscles as he reached toward me again, this time to casually brush an ant off my leg. This time his touch burned and I had to struggle for control so as not to gasp at his closeness.
“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ve been there. Why do you think this is one of my favorite places to come to?” This time, he didn’t meet my gaze, staring instead into the depths of the pool.
I was curious. I sneaked a look at his chiseled profile and tried to envision him coming to this pool to be alone. To seek solace. To cry? What could do that to him? I had been wrapped up for so long in my own pain, that it had not occurred to me that possibly others could experience such despair. For a brief instant, out of nowhere, an image of my grandmother flashed into my mind. Ramrod straight and still at the graveside, silent tears streaming down her lined cheeks. Her shocked face at my announcement that I was leaving for Samoa.
“I’m your grandmother’s biggest disappointment Leila, not you.” My dad would say cheerfully, every time we psyched ourselves to go for our ritual weekly visit to her Potomac mansion, and I would complain about grandmother’s endless criticisms. The way I dressed, my grades, my vocabulary, my untamable hair – and my lack of interest in doing anything to tame it… How I hated those visits. The stilted conversations. The unsmiling welcomes and farewells. But always, Dad would joke and laugh. And tease a smile from somewhere out of the old lady. He would regale her with tales of his latest travels, deliberately excluding all the dangerous and grimy bits of his job that she loathed. And grandmother would shake her head. And purse her lips. But her eyes would soften at his smile. And surely that would be the hint of tenderness when she hugged him? Dad was the youngest in a family of corporate lawyers, company directors and a brain surgeon thrown in for good measure. Born in the autumn of his parent’s years and then raised by his mother when his father died of a heart attack shortly after. The golden favorite last child who then decided to go against the Folger grain – refusing to join the family business when he finished at Harvard Law, choosing instead to join the Peace Corps, and then adding insult to injury, bringing home a brown baby for a grandchild! Upon his return to the States with me, my dad had pursued a career that combined his love of photography with his passion for travel and exploring native cultures. He had taken me with him to many of his destinations when I was younger, but then once I reached high school, Grandmother Folger had convinced him of the need for me to ‘be more settled,’ to focus on school so I could get into a college befitting of a Folger. Meaning I had to endure long periods without him. With a housekeeper and a coldly formal grandmother watching over me... Dad, I miss you.
The chitter of a flying fox brought me back to the present. Daniel was staring at me with that same intense regard as if trying to pierce my thoughts.
“Where were you just now?”
“Umm nowhere. I mean here. Right here. With you.” My words faded to a soft breath as once again he turned the full majesty of that amazing smile on me.
“You were not! You were a thousand miles away. Come on, you can’t possibly think of keeping any secrets from me now.” He gestured at the two of us in our muddy state of companionship.
I felt a laugh ripple forth against my will. “Okay, you’re right. I mean, what could the girl who has weapons galore concealed in her underwear possibly have to hide from you?” I joked.
His laugh rang out through the forest night. It was a rich golden sound, resonant of sunny, sandy days. It felt glorious to laugh together. Almost as good as staring into his eyes.
“You’re right, I don’t know if I’m brave enough to find out!” he teased, eyes dancing with laughter.
My only reply was to poke my tongue out mischievously, wrinkling my nose – a favorite tactic when being teased by Dad. Abruptly, my laughter halted at the reminder. It stunned me to realize that this was the first time in months that I had laughed together like this with another person. And that the last time I had poked out my tongue like this had been at my Dad. Oh how I had missed it.
He was so in tune with me now that he pounced on my shift of mood. “See there. You’re doing it again. You’re miles away. Something sad has got you wrapped up so tight it won’t let you go!” his tone was triumphant as he leaned forward in his eagerness. He smelled delicious. Earthy, clean, with a hint of coconut and pineapple. “What is it?” He wouldn’t take no for an answer this time.
“Alright. I was thinking of my dad. He died. Eight months ago. He was on assignment in Afghanistan. He had a headache and collapsed. They rushed him home but it was no use. Doctors said he had a brain tumor. Inoperable. He only regained consciousness once before. Before.” I took a deep breath, willing myself to say the words without hurting. “Before he died.” The last words were a rush as I waited for the pain to hit with that gut-kicking blow that would knock the breath out of me. It came. But funnily enough, with Daniel sitting beside me in the night, it didn’t hit as hard as usual. I didn’t realize how tightly my fists were clenched though, how taut my body had gone, until he placed an arm around my shoulders again and almost automatically, I felt myself wilting into him.
“Hey. I’m here. Breathe. There you go. Just breathe.” He was calm and assured. His eyes were soft with concern. I could see an errant eyelash quivering on his cheek as I breathed deeply. His closeness was so distracting that I dropped my eyes from his, only to be confronted by the sight of his lean hard chest tapering into clearly defined abs.
Oops. Definitely not helpful. I gulped, shutting my eyes to aver
t the flood of fire that threatened again to overwhelm me. What the heck is wrong with me? One minute I’m crying – the next I’m hyperventilating over this boy’s naked chest!? I bit my lip to stifle the hysterical giggle that was bubbling to explode. Mistaking my silence for sorrow, he placed a hand under my chin, raising my face to his.
I could scarcely breathe. Our faces were so close, I could almost taste his breath. There was nothing but concern in his eyes.
“Are you ok? I’m sorry I made you talk about it. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Mutely, I shook my head. “I’m okay. It’s okay. I haven’t talked about it to anyone. It’s hard. But I want to talk about him as well too – even though it hurts so bad, you know what I mean?” My voice pleaded for understanding.
Telesa - The Covenant Keeper Page 9
