by R. S. Lively
"This is incredible," she says. "How long did it take you to design?"
"About a year," I say. "I had my eye on the land for a long time. I first discovered the place back in high school with a few of my friends, and knew I wanted it.”
She smiles as she walks over to the windows and looks out. I wrap my arms around her waist to squeeze her for a few seconds, then lead her out of an arched door toward the multi-level deck on the back of the cabin. It has been such a short time since we both arrived at Grammie's house, but the impending change of seasons is already starting to show itself. It always seems the weather is softer in the woods, with the thick cover of the tree branches and the large, serene lake lowering the temperature and cutting the intensity of the sun. I guide her down the steps of the deck and onto a path that weaves away from the land where the cabin sits deeper into the woods.
"I’ve fantasized about bringing you out here for years, you know?”
Her eyes slide over to me.
"Oh, really?" she asks. "And what did you hope might happen if you did?"
I turn to her, and her arms loop around my neck as my mouth drops down to hers. My tongue pushes through her lips, and she catches it, swirling hers over it as if seeking out my taste. I pull her close, so her body crushes against mine, filling my hands with her ass and kissing her deeper. I've never desired anyone like Fiona. The adoration and admiration I have always had for her has ripened into passion as familiarity has turned into need. I wanted her when we were younger, but it’s nothing compared to what I feel now. Having touched and tasted her, I crave her with an intensity that limits my ability to concentrate on anything else.
When the kiss ends, I look down at her.
"I’m so glad I brought you here."
"Me, too." Fiona rises up on her toes to give me another quick kiss before looking around. "Was this area empty?"
I follow her gaze.
"No. This was actually where the main buildings for the camp were. The lodge. Registration building. A little camp store. By the time I bought the land, they were in pretty rough shape. I have the feeling they hadn't been kept up terribly well when the camp was actually in operation, and then it was abandoned for decades, so there wasn't really anything that could be salvaged. I wish there could have been. I thought it would be fun to refurbish the buildings and build additions around them to integrate them into one large building. My original design for the cabin was with that intention, but that was before I really came out here and examined the buildings during the day. So they were all demolished, and the ground leveled to make space for the cabin to be built."
Fiona nods. She looks toward the path steps away.
"What's this?"
"This is original to the camp. I found it one time when I was out here surveying and went down it." I bring her to the head of the path and point out a wooden sign positioned at the treeline. "This was lying on the ground, but I restored it and put it back in the ground."
Fiona looks at the sign, reading the activities and directions carved into the slats positioned along the post.
"Swimming. Canoeing. Volleyball. Fitness."
I nod.
"They are all there."
She looks up at me.
"What do you mean they're all there?"
"They're all there. I recreated all of them with my own versions so the sign would be as accurate as possible."
She lets out a long breath.
"Well, we couldn't have an inaccurate ancient wooden sign sitting around. That would just be a travesty."
I take her hand, and we start down the path.
"It's good that Gramps and Grammie didn't send you to camp. You'd be that kid who complained about everything and got thrown into the lake."
"You better not throw me in the lake, Cade."
She doesn't miss a beat, and now all I want to do is throw her into the lake.
We walk to the pool first.
"I took my liberties with the pool," I tell her.
The curving shape, underwater lights, and integrated grotto are very different from the cracked, graffiti-scattered rectangle that was here when I first explored this part of the camp. The grass growing up around it had all but obliterated the sand spread in a large swathe around the original pool, and only half of the diving board stuck out from the frame at the deep end.
"I didn't think this would be what a summer camp pool would look like," she replies.
"The first time I saw it I was afraid to get anywhere near it."
"I didn't think you were afraid of water," she says.
"I'm not," I tell her. "It was the pool. You have no idea how creepy it looked the first time I was out here in the middle of the night. All I had for light was a flashlight and the moon coming through the clouds. Part of me sure I'd find the last person to have explored this place still down there, possibly not with all of his flesh and internal organs intact."
Fiona shudders.
"You didn't, did you?"
"No. Fortunately, it was empty. But that's when I knew I wanted this place."
I could still remember what it felt like when I first walked up to the pool and looked down into it. That was the moment, standing at the crumbling edge of the pool, when I started envisioning what this place could become.
"All the way back in high school?" she asks.
"Absolutely. There wasn't a single part of me that believed I would ever be in a position to buy the camp, but after that night, I started spending long stretches of time thinking about it. When I was going through a tough time or just feeling angry – which happened a lot – I would think about it. I'd go through all the ways I could take this space and turn it into something new. I thought about all the things I'd change, and how I'd make them better than before. I tried to imagine what the person who designed it had originally envisioned, and why it turned out this way. It distracted me and helped me keep myself calm."
Fiona turns to me, her eyes shimmering.
"I wish I knew everything you were going through then," she says. "I didn't. I didn't know you were suffering. I wish you had talked to me."
"I didn't talk to anyone."
"But I'm not just anybody, Cade. It's me. You could have told me anything."
"It would have changed the way you looked at me."
She shakes her head.
"No," she says. "It wouldn't have changed a thing. I didn't always like what I heard, and there were times when I wished I didn't hear it, but I always wanted you to tell me whatever you needed to get off your chest. For whatever reason. No matter why you wanted to tell me, no matter what you thought it was going to accomplish, if you wanted to talk to me about something, I was always willing to listen." She pauses. "I still am."
We've moved away from the pool, roaming almost absently toward the edge of the lake where a rack holds four canoes. I have no real reason to have all four of them. I don't really have a reason to have one. I never use them. But I felt compelled to be true to the sign, and that's how it turned out. As we stand a few feet from the water, I glance over at Fiona. She stares over the lake as if transfixed by the shimmer of the sunset against the darkening surface.
"What did you mean by that?" I ask her.
She looks over at me.
"What?" she asks.
"You said you didn't always like what you heard, and there were times when you wished you didn't hear it. What did you mean by that?"
Fiona looks uncomfortable in a way I haven't seen since the first time since the day Franklin showed up at Grammie's house. The expression on her face has become guarded like she didn't realize what she had said. She hesitates for a beat, glancing back out over the water, and then back at me.
"I wasn't naive, Cade. I wasn't blind. I knew you dated, and I know you…" her voice trails off, but I know what she had meant to say. "I knew it was happening, but I didn't want to hear about it. I didn't want to think of you looking at anyone like that. I didn't want to think of you kissing or touching anyon
e."
She hesitates again.
"What?" I ask, but she doesn't respond. "What, Fiona? What is it?"
"The night you came to me and told me about your girlfriend. Amy. You remember."
My heart tightens painfully, and I feel the breath leave my body. I know exactly what she's talking about. It's something I never wanted to think about again.
"Of course, I do."
"That night, I wanted to listen to you. I knew I was the one you chose to come talk to, and to tell what was going on. I wanted to be there for you however you wanted me to be. But it killed me, Cade. It hurt so much to listen to you talk about Amy. I could see what she had put you through was hurting you, and I wanted to rip her to shreds for it. But it was more than that."
I feel her pull away from me.
"Talk to me, Fiona. What was it?"
"It should have been me!" she suddenly explodes. "You should have been with me, Cade. Not her. Not some girl who you had only known a few months. If you were going to be that close to anyone, if you were going to make love to someone, it should have been me. It kills me."
I reach out for Fiona and pull her into my arms, catching her words with a kiss. My mouth moves over hers softly, and I taste her tears. I pull back from the kiss just enough so I can speak.
"I never made love to her, Fiona," I whisper. "Never. I was a stupid, impulsive kid who had sex when a girl offered it to me. I'm not proud of the way that makes me sound, but it's what happened. I never meant to hurt you. I never wanted you to feel that way."
I kiss her again, deepening it slightly, and stepping closer to let our bodies brush against each other.
"Why wasn't it me?" Fiona whispers. Her eyes are downcast, and I nudge her nose with mine to lift her face. "Why wasn't it me, Cade? Why them?"
I hate hearing the doubt in her voice. I don't want her to feel, even for a second, that she wasn't good enough for me. Cupping my hand on her cheek, I stroke a tear away from her velvety skin with the pad of my thumb.
"You were so precious to me." I kiss her forehead and trail my lips down the bridge of her nose. "So precious. I wanted you more than I can ever tell you." My other hand comes to the side of her face, and I brush my lips across her cheekbone, then kiss down to the curve of her jaw. "You were so beautiful, so sweet. I wanted to touch you, I wanted to make love to you." I kiss along the other side of her jaw, then bring my lips up to brush against hers. "I couldn't bring myself to. You were so much more than that. I didn't choose them, Fiona. I chose you."
She sighs into the soft kiss I touch to her plush mouth, and I tenderly slip her bottom lip between mine. Not wanting to lose myself in her delectable body until the morning just yet, I pull away. I look around until my eyes fall on the canoes in their rack, and I nod toward them.
"Let's go for a ride," I say.
She looks at the canoes with uncertainty.
"I've never been in a canoe before," she says. "And it's getting dark."
"There's nothing out there that's going to get you," I say. "You'll be with me. I'll keep you safe."
She follows me over to the rack, and we lift one of the boats out of place. Setting it at the edge of the water, I push it in slightly, then take Fiona's hand to help her step in. The boat wobbles, and she gasps slightly, reaching out for me with her other hand.
"I need to get you outside more," I say. "You've lost all the country that used to be in you."
"I'm not sure how much there ever really was," she says. "That's what's good about being in the city. No one expects you to be able to do things like fix a floor, or put up a tent, or get into a canoe."
"So, what is it you do out there? It sounds pretty boring."
I laugh, but she shoots me a stubborn look.
"Because billionaires are known for staying in touch with their roots, and spending time communing with nature," she says.
I push the canoe a little further into the water and step in, settling onto the bench seat across from her.
"My money hasn't changed who I am," I say. "Not in the important ways. Don't you ever miss home?"
"I only moved a couple of hours away," she argues. "And I hear these lunches you have with Grammie aren't exactly every day."
"She's too busy for me," I say with a laugh. "And Franklin does a lot, but it's still my company. It's not like I spend all my time just relaxing."
"Or lurking around in your mysterious mansion," she says.
I smile.
"Well, that does take up a lot of my schedule. But, honestly, Fiona, that city isn't for you. That apartment? Working in one of those buildings that look like a prison block doing the same thing as the other couple thousand people in the same building? That's not you. That's not the girl I know."
"Who's the girl you know?" she asks softly.
I pick up the paddles and direct the canoe into the center of the lake. It's peaceful there, the water only rippling slightly when the fish slip up near the surface to eat. I look at her sitting across from me and consider what she just asked. There are so many ways I could answer the question, so many things I could tell her about the way I see her now, and the way I saw her then.
"Just not that," he says. "I'm not saying I think you should be wearing gingham and planting vegetables, but I don't think your heart is in the city, Fiona. I think you wanted it to be. You wanted to have somewhere else you were supposed to be, and somewhere else where you could have your life. You always say how much you didn't like being out here, but I remember it differently. No, you were never one to enjoy doing all the woodworking with Gramps, and you were always a bit jumpy about the night sounds, but you were alive here, Fiona. The first time I saw you every summer, it was like you were washed out. But the longer you were here, the more you woke up. The color and the sparkle came back. Whether you were curled up reading, hanging up the laundry, or even building something with us, you were comfortable. You were comfortable here, and you were comfortable in your skin."
"It wasn't just being out in the country that made me feel that way," she says. Our eyes meet. I can see the question there. It's the question I've waited for her to ask for years, but haven't wanted to hear because I didn't know how to answer it. "Why didn't you come back? I waited for you."
Setting the paddles in place, I ease forward enough to take her hands in mine.
"I know you did," I say.
"Then why? Why didn't you come back when you said you would? And why did you never tell me what happened? You never even reached out to me."
"I know I didn't. I told you, I was a coward. I regret those decisions more than anything else in my life. I wish I could change them."
"But you can't."
"I know."
"All you can do is tell me why. It won't change it. It won't let us go back and see what might have happened to our lives. But at least it will give me the explanation I've been waiting to hear for the last ten years."
I can hear the tears in her voice, and I know I can't deny her this. No matter how hard it is to put myself back into the place I was all those years ago, and force myself to feel those things again, I owe her the answers.
"I always planned to be there, Fiona. You have to know that. I didn't tell you to be there and wait for me just because I thought it sounded good, or as some kind of joke."
"I know you didn't," she says.
"Are you sure you don't?" I ask. "The first time you saw me at Grammie' house, you looked at me like you hated me."
"I don't hate you, Cade. I could never hate you."
"I'm used to being left behind or put aside. That's been my life as long as I can remember. I've been on my own and taken care of myself. Even when I was struggling and going down a path I shouldn't have, I was still doing it myself. I didn't care about anyone who was there with me. It didn't matter to me if I ever saw any of them again, and I always anticipated that each time I left a party or got home from whatever I was doing, it would be the last time I saw some of them. I didn't care. It never bothered
me. Then there was you. You are the person I’ve always worried about losing. The thought of never seeing you again was something I couldn't bear."
"But you left," she protests. "You're the one who walked away."
"I never thought I wasn’t going to see you again. That night, I was absolutely sure that I would go to the house, find you, and escape into the night to start our life together. I had been waiting for you for years, and you were finally old enough, finally not the little girl everyone told me to behave around. I could take you into my arms and make you mine. We'd have everything we'd always wanted, and no one would be able to tell us no. I couldn't wait for that moment. But the closer I got, the more I started thinking about what would happen next."
"What do you mean? You just said next was going to be the life we had always wanted."
"But what if it didn’t work out?" I ask. "What if that's not what happened?"
"What could have happened?"
"Anything," I say. "That's exactly the problem. The closer I drove to the house, the more possibilities flashed through my mind. Who was I to plan your life out for you? You had so much potential. You always did. I was nothing, and at that point, I didn't see myself ever becoming anything. I was just going to figure it out as it came. It would be an adventure. But then I thought about you. I thought about all you could become and all you could accomplish. There was so much in life for you, and I was going to take it away from you. I needed to prove that I was worthy of you."
"By leaving? By disappearing when I needed you so much?"
"All I could think about was what would happen if something went wrong. If something happened, and I messed up, I could lose you. You'd be gone, and I'd never have you back in my life. But if I walked away, I could work on myself and become what you deserved before our life began. There was never the possibility I wouldn't see you again. I couldn't fathom it. If I went to that porch that night, I would have lost you. Turning away meant I didn't have to face that. I could just continue to hold you in my heart forever."
