by Carol Oates
I could barely hear the concern in his voice over the deafening sound of my heart in my ears. “I’m—I’m fine,” I stuttered.
He let the door swing in behind him and approached me, placing one hand tentatively under my elbow. Instantly the hairs on my arm rose. His brow was creased, and he scrutinized my face with a peculiar look in his eyes. My stomach flipped. He looked so familiar to me, like remembering a dream, and I felt an impulse to run my fingertips over the golden skin of his cheek, which gleamed in the orange glow from the cinders.
“Are you sure? You seem totally unable to move,” he pointed out. His lip was twitching at the corner, threatening a grin.
“Oh,” I muttered, tearing my eyes away and immediately shifting my glance to the ground as the color burned in my cheeks. He was right; I was rigid. “Sorry.” I smiled, mortified, and made a conscious effort to relax my limbs.
“I’m Caleb.” He took his hand from my elbow and flashed a brilliant smile.
I had known who he was before he told me. I knew the new owner was here tonight, but it was more than that. I couldn’t explain it; though I’d never laid eyes on Caleb Wallace before, I recognized him instantly. I knew the contours of his face, the straight line of his jaw, the shallow dimple in his chin, the deep blue eyes that sparkled like sapphires, and I knew if I lifted my hand the way I wanted to and stroked his face, where his cleanly shaven skin should probably still feel rough, it would feel like softest velvet under my fingertips. My heart fluttered wildly, and I had to force myself to move to the door. Caleb followed.
“Leave that stuff on the counter; someone else can deal with it tomorrow,” he instructed. Was I imagining it or was his voice shaky?
“Okay,” I mumbled, avoiding his gaze. I was sure my cheeks were still flaming. “Thanks.” I walked through to the locker room, flashing my card at the door. Again he followed. What was wrong with this guy? Were we playing tag? I went to my locker and, keeping my back to the room, put one arm through a sleeve of my parka.
“You’re Triona, aren’t you?”
His warm breath grazed over my cheek, and I spun around to meet his eyes. They were the color of the ocean, deeper than the ocean and framed in long black lashes. His eyebrows came together.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” His smooth voice made my heart beat faster.
“Yes,” I choked out.
“It’s just you’ve stopped moving again.” He grinned but his eyes were still boring deep into mine.
“Damn,” I whispered under my breath. I turned my back and quickly pushed my other arm through the sleeve.
“Is that your car outside, the purple one?”
I turned again, and my heart jumped. He face was inches from mine, and I inhaled deeply. Caleb was so close I could smell his scent, woody and clean, the kind of smell you get after rain in springtime: sweet, and again, strangely familiar. My legs trembled. He looked at me curiously, and it was like a magnetic force was pulling me to him. An ache deep inside me made me want to bring my lips to his and hold him. I longed to be in his arms. I belonged there.
I shook my head. I was going to lose my job at this rate, since I couldn’t keep working here if I stopped in my tracks every time the boss looked at me. His lips pursed in confusion—he was staggeringly handsome. I couldn’t begin to contemplate how anyone would look at Joshua or Seth, gorgeous as they were, with Caleb around. He continued to stare into my eyes, and the magnetic force pulled us closer. My heartbeat grew even louder, and I hoped he couldn’t hear it.
“I’m fine, really,” I stammered.
“I didn’t ask you that.” His lips widened into a smile that reached his jewel eyes, shimmering at me. Oh my.
“What?” I asked, staring at him and feeling slightly dazed.
“I asked if that was your Marina outside,” he clarified, still smiling at me like we were old friends. I blinked several times, trying to focus. His hand lifted hesitantly, his fingers curved to the shape of my face and trembled a little. My breathing came in heavy gasps, and I flinched away. If Caleb touched me again, my heart would explode out of my chest and mess up all the renovations. He pulled back, and his expression changed, but I didn’t give myself a chance to consider it.
“Yes, yes. Sorry.” Shaking my head, I looked down to the floor. “Yeah, it’s mine. Hard to miss.” I tried to laugh at my own pathetic attempt at a joke, but it came out sounding kind of manic. I slipped out the narrow gap between Caleb and the lockers and moved toward the door.
“Nice car,” he called after me.
“Eh, thanks.” The cold air hit me at the door, cooling my burning face. Putting the key into the lock of my car, I realized my hand was shaking. It took three attempts to get the door open.
“I really don’t think you should be driving.”
Startled, I spun around, and the keys that were still in my hand ripped from the lock and hit Caleb full force in the chest. He didn’t appear to notice; his face still wore the same amazed and bewildered expression he’d had inside. He very likely thought I was insane.
“I’m sorry.” I shuddered with embarrassment, glad that at least it was dark here and he couldn’t see my flushed cheeks.
“I could give you a ride,” he offered, pointing over to another car. I was momentarily distracted to see a small silver Porsche parked behind us. Caleb’s voice rang in my head, so soft and strangely compelling, that I wanted to do whatever he told me to.
“Oh, no, that’s okay.” I smiled, and again it felt manic.
I managed to unlock the door and jump in, reaching out to pull it closed after me. Caleb’s hand held the frame, and it wouldn’t budge. He leaned in closer, his eyes fixed on mine for a moment as if he was waiting for something. He swallowed hard and then inhaled a long deep breath. The proximity of his face stunned me. He watched me again for what couldn’t have been more than seconds but felt like hours.
“It’s you,” he murmured barely audibly, almost like I wasn’t meant to hear. I didn’t understand.
“Unbelievably amazing.” My voice sounded strange and strangled. Panic gripped me. Did I just say that? Oh no. I was thinking it, but I didn’t mean to say it out loud.
He beamed a smile at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re not too bad yourself,” he returned.
I thought my heart had stopped, but it was happily pumping all my blood to my face. I recoiled at the horrible shame and pulled the door toward me. This time there was no resistance. I put the key in, groaning under my breath. “Please start, please start.”
It did.
“I’ll drive down behind you, make sure you’re okay.” Caleb didn’t sound like he was giving me a choice. I willed myself not to turn and look at him. Not understanding why I was doing as he said, I waited until he was in his car and then pulled away slowly, allowing Caleb Wallace to follow me down the drive toward town.
Chapter 2
Hide and Seek
“You did what?” Amanda exclaimed.
I felt the blood racing to my face again just thinking about last night, and my fingers tightened around the phone.
“What am I supposed to do now?” I pleaded after mostly filling her in about last night.
I was sitting in bed, but I had gotten very little sleep. I had twisted and turned the whole night, Caleb’s face invading my unconsciousness time and time again. The feeling his presence triggered was like finding a lost treasure I didn’t realize was missing. I winced; even Amanda didn’t need that much detail. There was a marked silence at the other end of the line; I just knew she had me on mute. Laughing at my misery, no doubt. I threw myself back against the pillows, flinging my arm out wide and then slapping my hand over my eyes to block his image from my mind, as if I could even if I wanted to.
“Tell me again, please,” she begged. I could hear the amusement in her voice.
Amanda wasn’t taking this as seriously as I’d hoped; she was positively reveling in it. A fresh wave of embarrassment flooded my body.
> “I can’t go back in.” My voice was just a little too high and panicked.
“Don’t be so ridiculous,” she chuckled mockingly. “Of course you can—it’s not as if you tried to kiss him or anything.”
I took a deep breath, filling my lungs and then letting out a long tragic sigh. “I almost did and…” I took another breath and continued in a flourish of words before I could change my mind about telling her, “…I called him unbelievably amazing.” I had left that bit out when I called her and reeled off the events of last night in a flurry of embarrassing admissions. Holding my breath, I scrunched my eyes shut and steeled myself for Amanda’s response.
“Oh, my.” She couldn’t even get the rest of her words out before she erupted into giggles.
I held the phone away until I was sure she had gotten it out of her system. My agony was crushing me—even worse, it was making me want to give up a steady paycheck—and my best friend since I was six years old was laughing. When I returned the phone to my ear, I listened to her taking several calming breaths.
“Okay, listen,” she said in a more controlled and serious tone, “pretend it didn’t happen.”
“What?” I exclaimed. My disbelief at her useless advice colored my response.
“Pretend it didn’t happen. Go back to work and try to act normal. No one else was there except the two of you—it was out of character for you, anyway. I’ve never seen you lose it over a guy before.”
She made it sound so reasonable, so easy.
“This is your tree falling in the woods theory, isn’t it?” I deadpanned. “If nobody saw it, it didn’t happen?”
She paused for a moment and then sighed apologetically. “I’m afraid it’s the best I have.”
After I hung up, I sat up and my eyes fell on the stack of college applications I had yet to even read sitting on the desk by the window. I wondered if Amanda’s theory could apply to them, too; the whole idea that not seeing them made them not exist sounded great right about now. Lewis and Carmel kept gathering up the offensive forms and leaving them around the house in the hope I would change my mind about going to London straight out of school. I found one folded neatly inside a Tupperware container of grated cheese at the back of the fridge about a week ago. Ben wasn’t getting pressured in the same way because he had been helping Lewis, a master carpenter, for years with smaller projects and already decided he wanted to take up an apprenticeship with him. This pleased Lewis to no end.
I threw the quilt back and slung my legs over the side of my bed, touching the polished floorboards with my toes to test the temperature. I glanced over at the sepia-toned photo that sat in an antique silver frame on my bedside table. In it, a young woman was sitting cross-legged on the grass. One arm hugged a young toddler standing close to her side, and both woman and child gazed down at the sleeping baby cradled in her other arm. The woman’s long dark hair hung down, concealing most of her face. It was the only picture I had of my mother, since she usually preferred to be the photographer. The same photo and frame sat on Ben’s bedside table. I blew a kiss to the photo as I started to rise.
The springs of my metal-framed bed creaked when I lifted my weight from the mattress. I tugged the quilt off the bed and wrapped it around my shoulders before trudging across the floor and slumping down on the seat at my desk. Pulling the quilt further around my body and positioning it so it wouldn’t slip, I slid my green laptop over to the edge and spread the applications over the remainder of the desk. I tightly squeezed my eyes, floated my hand over the pages, and then dropped it, picking up the first three I touched, like playing Go Fish with colleges. I groaned and picked up a pen. Clicking it at my ear repeatedly, I began reading.
***
I pulled up outside the restaurant just before my shift at six. It was cold out, but the first snow hadn’t fallen yet, and the air was crisp and dry. As I walked toward the door, I took a few deep breaths in a vain attempt to calm my thundering heart. I had decided over the course of the day that Amanda was right and I really didn’t need to make a big deal out of what happened last night. It really wasn’t part of my normal behavior to have my head turned by a good-looking guy, as Amanda had said. So, I convinced myself it must have been a one-off, atypical surge of my teenage hormones. My shift was starting just as Jen’s was finishing up, meaning no moral support.
After I entered the dining room, I watched Caleb from the side of the counter that stored the cutlery, napkins, and other serving utensils. He was busying himself showing a group of customers to their seats. A higher proportion of women in groups seemed to eat here since word of the charming new owners spread. The particular group of six women he was attending to now were all in their late twenties and early thirties and all giggling like children at something he said.
“Hey, Triona,” Jen said brightly as she rushed toward me. “Did you see Jonathan outside?”
The moment she uttered my name, I felt Caleb’s eyes on me. Butterflies gathered in my stomach, and I steadied my gaze on the knives and forks I was sorting into containers.
“No, he must not be h—here yet,” I stuttered.
Jen leaned into me so our heads were almost touching. “Amanda filled me in,” she teased. “Nice going.”
I tried to seem breezy. “I probably exaggerated a bit this morning. It doesn’t seem such a big deal now.” Even I could hear the tremor in my voice, so it was too much to wish for that Jen wouldn’t notice. She playfully nudged my elbow and nodded in Caleb’s direction.
“Oh yeah? Then why is he looking at you like that?”
I continued to sort the cutlery refusing to lift my eyes; the hairs on the back of my neck were standing up. “Don’t be silly,” I choked out.
Jen was still standing close me, and I hoped she couldn’t hear my heart pounding.
“I think you’ve got an admirer,” she commented, sounding surprised.
I was a little insulted. It was one thing for me to doubt myself, but another when my friends started to agree with me. Was it so remarkable that he could see something in me he liked? It could happen, maybe…possibly.
Despite myself, I looked up from under my eyelashes in Caleb’s direction. He was still at the table with the small group of women all gazing up at him, hanging on his every word. His lips continued to move in conversation with them, but his stunning blue eyes were burning into me. I felt a shiver run through my body and caught my breath. I dragged my eyes back to the cutlery as Jen leaned in again.
“You’re blushing—looks like Caleb might have an admirer too.”
“I would say an awful lot more than one. I would have to get in line, wouldn’t I?” I said cynically.
She let out an exasperated sigh, and I glanced at her sideways. Her eyes narrowed, studying my face. “You do like him, don’t you?” Jen’s eyes darted from me over to Caleb again and back. “Well, from where I’m standing, you’re first in line.”
I felt the butterflies flutter erratically and pursed my lips sarcastically for show.
“I’ll be talking to you tomorrow. It’s good to see you’re not immune to every male on the planet after all,” she quipped.
***
At the end of the night, when all the customers left and the staff were leaving too, I was in the locker room.
“See you, Triona,” Stephen, the chef, called, heading through the door. Besides me, he was last of the staff to leave. I smiled half-heartedly in response.
I’d been in limbo all evening. Caleb didn’t mention last night. In fact, apart from the stolen, guarded glances in my direction and the occasional curious expression crossing his face when I was speaking to a customer, he pretty much stayed at the opposite end of the room, ignoring me. It seemed like every time I moved, he did too. It was as if we were dancing around each other, mirroring each other’s movements, with Caleb maintaining as much distance as possible between us within the confines of the dining room. Was it my imagination, or was he giving me extremely mixed signals? It was very frustrating;
I didn’t know what to think. The kitchen door opened, interrupting my thoughts.
“Triona, can I have a word when you’re ready?” Caleb’s tone was careful, but there was an undercurrent of something else I couldn’t make out. He didn’t wait for a reply, just left the door swinging after him.
Butterflies fluttered around my insides again instantly, and my breathing became jagged. I couldn’t imagine what line his train of thought was on; this could either end very well or very badly. I shook my hands in front of my body, trying to calm the butterflies. Opening the kitchen door, I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He wasn’t there. I scowled. I could see in through the open door of his office, and he wasn’t there either, so I headed to the dining room, but still no Caleb.
“Hmm,” I muttered, exasperated. Last night we were playing tag, tonight it seemed to be hide-and-seek. My heart started to thump a little louder. I surveyed the room again, just in case he decided to hide under a table or something. Who asks to speak to someone and then vanishes? The room was dark, but he definitely wasn’t there.
Exiting the double doors that led to the deck, I finally spotted him. He had his back to me and was leaning against the rail that surrounded the deck. As I moved forward, I could see Caleb resting his forearms on the rail with his fingers intertwined, locked tight. I quietly approached and stopped at the rail, still about two feet from him, far enough away that his scent wouldn’t permeate the air that I would be using as soon as I started to breathe again. Caleb’s head was lowered, his eyes were closed, and he appeared to be miles away deep in contemplation. My heart was still racing when I placed one hand on the rail to steady myself and turned halfway toward him.
