Chapter Five
Hartley
After breakfast the following morning I’m looking around my small kitchen to the picture window and the piles of shopping bags and boxes on the floor. I didn’t have time to pack anything before I left so I’ve been shopping like crazy since I arrived. The problem is, I’ve been avoiding unpacking any of it, so now it looks like I’m holding a yard sale in my kitchen. I resolve to deal with it, right after a bath.
I haven’t told Eleanor, but the bath is the main reason I chose this house. It’s an old claw foot number painted flamingo pink, and I absolutely love it. This is the kind of bath I’d love to put in my house in Jefferson; only I know exactly what David’s face would look like if I suggested it. Even Eleanor doesn’t understand why I’d want to live in a run down sea cottage like this one. She’s always saying that if she had my money she’d want a house with marble floors and solid gold tap ware. I don't tell her, but that's just the type of thing someone without money would say.
I run a deep bubble bath and step in, sighing in pleasure at feeling warm all the way through for the first time in days. I’m content for maybe, four or five seconds before my mind starts ticking again. I’m thinking about the data I haven’t finished analyzing at the lab and the hair appointment I forgot to cancel, and the fact that I didn’t even call my mother to tell her I was leaving. Then I think about my sister Marta and all of the wedding related appointments I’ve missed and then I can see my dad’s face in my mind, the way he looked in the boardroom the last time I saw him. Suddenly the bath is too hot, and I feel like I’m suffocating. I sit up too quickly, my heart racing in my chest and my head swimming. I can’t do this. I’m going crazy sitting here. I decide to go for a walk.
The rain has stopped and the wind blowing the hair off my face is no more than a gentle reminder of the storm that hit the coast the day before. There’s even a little bit of sunlight pushing through the clouds. I’ve changed into a pair of jeans and a vintage navy and white striped t-shirt that I stole from my mom’s closet. I turn left at my gate, towards the ocean, and try to keep my mind calm and empty as I walk down the road. I reach the sand in minutes and decide to kick off my shoes. I leave them on a fence post, hesitating for a second because, well, they’re Chanel. I shrug and put them down anyway. I climb over the dunes and look down the beach. There are a couple of surfers braving the massive waves that climb over my head before crashing on the shore, but other than them, I’m alone. I wonder briefly if Crew is one of the guys out in the water and then quickly dismiss the thought. I’m not going to allow myself to think about that guy. Hopefully, he gets back on whatever plane he arrived on and leaves before I have to see him again.
I start down the beach, picking up shells along the way to line up along my bathroom windowsills. The sea is so loud and immediate; it drowns out any thoughts my brain tries to conjure up and I’m thankful. For the first time since I left Jefferson, I have some peace. I’m enjoying the smell of the ocean and the feel of the sand on my feet when I look up and scan my eyes down the beach. A couple of guys are running next to each other towards me. They look serious about it. They’re running hard. Neither one is talking or joking around. When they see me, the taller one slows a little and says something to the other guy. I can’t make out any detail in their faces because I forgot to put my glasses on, but I can see that they’re not wearing any shirts and that they’re both sweaty and packed with muscle. The shorter one looks lean and fit, but the taller guy is huge. His shoulders and arms pump back and forth as he runs in strong, powerful strides. I blush a little and look out towards the sea to cool my face. I may be short sighted, but I never said I was blind.
When I look back, the lean looking guy has turned around and is jogging back up the beach. The tall one has slowed to a walk and is coming right towards me. I look behind me to see if there’s someone else he might be walking to, but there’s no one there. Then he reaches a big hand up and pushes the dark hair off his face, and I realize, far too late, that I know him. And there’s absolutely nowhere for me to hide.
Chapter Six
Crew
“Race you to The Point and back,” Jake yells through the glass window next to my front door. I sit up with my head pounding and my mouth feeling like the bottom of a birdcage. Damn jet lag. I must have passed out on the sofa after I got back to my place, and I’ve slept for at least 14 hours. I get up to open the door, but Jake is already gone. Bastard is trying to get a head start. Despite the headache, I still manage a smile as I throw on a pair of shorts and my runners and pull the door closed behind me. Seeing Jake almost makes the trip back to Twin Heads worth it. Almost.
By the time I make it across my lawn, Jake is already over the dunes and halfway to the shoreline. It’s not hard to catch him up. He may have appealed to my competitive streak by saying he’d race me, but I know he’s deliberately taking his time so that we can run together. We fall into a steady rhythm that’s become second nature after years of training together. We don’t talk when we run, which is just how I like it. I speed up a little, pushing myself, and next to me Jake matches my stride. Down the beach, I see a girl in tight jeans and a striped t-shirt bending down to look at something in the water. A second later she reaches down and digs in the sand a little before bringing a shell up to her face. I’m still a good distance away, but I can see her smile from here. It’s one of those smiles that starts at her mouth and transforms her whole face. We get a little closer and the girl turns around and looks down the beach, to The Point. A strand of dark curly hair escapes her ponytail and dances around her head in the wind. Shit. I slow my pace and yell over at Jake. He grins like a lunatic then turns around and runs back up the beach.
I slow to a walk and try to catch my breath. Either I was running harder than I thought I was, or I’m more jetlagged than usual. Hartley glances at me and her eyes widen a little. She turns around and looks over her shoulder like she expects me to be looking for someone else. It’s both the sweetest and saddest gesture, and it makes me want to kiss her, just so she knows that I’m only looking for her. This girl really has no idea how beautiful she is.
“Hi,” I say when I’m close enough for her to hear me over the ocean.
She doesn’t say anything, and her face is hard and expressionless. Ok. I deserve that.
“We met at The Sea Shack yesterday?” I say, like some kind of idiot. She rolls her eyes slightly and crosses her arms across her chest.
“Listen, I’m sorry about the way I acted,” I try again. “I just flew in, and I hadn’t slept for two days, and I guess I was acting like a bit of an asshole because I had to do something that I didn’t want to do.”
She raises her eyebrows at that, and her face softens a little.
“What did you have to do?” she asks. Her voice is soft and husky, but it still has a bit of an edge to it.
I look out to the waves and take a breath. If I tell her where I was yesterday, it’s only going to invite questions that I’m in no mood to answer. I look back at her and try on one of my many fake smiles.
“Oh you know, just some errands. Boring stuff.”
She knows I’m lying. She looks at me for a moment, deciding whether to call me on it, then sighs and turns to leave.
“Hey!” I call out to stop her from going. “We didn’t really get introduced properly earlier. I’m Crew Sullivan.” I hold out a hand, and she looks at it for a second, narrowing her eyes. Finally, she steps forward and puts her hand into mine. It should be cold from digging around in the wet sand, but somehow all I can feel is fire.
“I’m Hartley,” she says, looking up into my face. She looks away for a second, biting her lip and then returns to meet my eyes. “Hartley Jones.”
“Nice to meet you, Hartley Jones,” I say, smiling for real this time.
She looks down and shakes my hand.
Chapter Seven
Hartley
“Want to go for a walk?” I say much more confidently than I fee
l. I take my hand out of his and look up the beach to The Point. Crew’s mouth twitches as if he's fighting not to smile.
“Sure.”
We turn around and walk side by side. He pulls his t-shirt out from where it was tucked into the back of his shorts and pulls it over his head.
“So, kid,” he says, looking up the beach. “Are you in town on business or pleasure?”
I stiffen a bit at being called ‘kid’ again, and he looks down at me, noticing the change.
“It's ok,” I say quickly, “it's just that in my old job I used to get hassled a bit about my age.”
I look over at him and see him wince slightly.
“No really, it’s fine,” I say, looking down. “It’s different when you say it, I kind of like it.”
He really does smile then, and the sight of it makes me smile too. With his angular face, strong jaw and sharp nose it would be easy for him to look distant or severe but his eyes are too gentle to be cold and when he smiles his face softens completely.
“So, business or pleasure?” he says again.
“How do you know that I'm new in town?” I counter. I’m trying to change the subject, but I'm not doing a very good job of it.
“Because I fly in and out every few months and I sure as hell would have noticed you.”
I reach down and pick up a pink and white seashell to hide my embarrassment.
“Plus, you were sitting in an ice cream shop at 11.30am on a Tuesday, so I'm guessing you either don't have a job here, or you have a very understanding boss.”
I glance over at him and roll my eyes when I see how satisfied with himself he looks.
“Ok Sherlock,” I laugh, “how about this? We each get five personal questions, and the other person has to answer with one hundred percent honesty.”
He looks down at me and raises his eyebrows.
“Uh oh.”
“And then after those five questions are up, that's it. No more nosy parker.”
“What,” he says, genuinely surprised. “Ever??”
“That's right. Personal information will only be shared voluntarily. No more questions.”
We walk in silence for a few more steps and then he says, “Just so I have this straight, do we have to use all five questions at once or can I spread them out, like over a few days?”
“Are you planning on seeing me over a few days?” I say coyly, but as soon as the words leave my mouth I realize, and not for the first time, that I really can’t pull off that flirty fluttering eyelashes stuff like the other girls can. I’m thinking about how completely dorky I must sound to him when he grins down at me and says,
“You bet your ass I am.”
“My turn,” I say, changing the subject. We reach the end of the bay and start walking up the steps to the boardwalk. “Where were you really yesterday? And don't give me that bullshit about errands. I know you were lying.”
He looks taken aback for a second and then says, “How did you know I was lying?”
I look up at him and wink. “Is that one of your questions?”
“What?” he cries. “That’s not even personal!”
“Relax, relax,” I laugh, “I'm just kidding. For your information, when you lie you do this little awkward shoulder shrug thing. Most people have a tick or a mannerism that gives away a lie. It's barely noticeable unless you're looking for it, which I was. And that smile you gave me? Total fake.”
“Duly noted,” he says seriously. I glance up, and it looks as though he can't decide whether to be annoyed or burst out laughing.
“Just out of curiosity,” he says quietly, “how did you know it was fake?”
He looks kind of bummed, and I hesitate for a second before telling him the truth.
“You smiled with your mouth, but it didn't reach your eyes.”
We reach the top of the steps and turn left towards The Point.
“I’ll tell you where I was,’ he says lightly, “but before I do, I want to remind you that you will only be left with four personal questions and after you hear where I went you may want to use them all at once. Can I ask that you save one or two, for later?”
I nod. “Quit stalling.”
“I was at the cemetery with Jake. We go every time I come home.” He sighs heavily and looks out to the sea.
“Oh God,” I groan into my hands. “Crew, I'm sorry, it was a game. I didn't mean to pry.”
Now I feel like the biggest idiot on the planet. Eleanor has told me a hundred times what a horrible flirt I am and now I think I finally believe her. I can feel my face burning despite the cold offshore breeze.
“Business or pleasure?” He says without skipping a beat. “That's my first question.”
I have to think about that for a second. It was business that brought me here, but it's not the reason I've decided to stay. Moving wasn’t exactly pleasurable either, although things in that regard could be looking up.
“Neither,” I say and then when I see the unamused look on his face I add, “I moved to Twin Heads to start a new life. I had some trouble with my old employer, and I thought I'd just try something completely different for a while.”
He nods thoughtfully and stays silent.
“Is that it?” I laugh, “you're not going to ask me what the trouble was?”
He smiles to himself and shakes his head. “I'm saving mine.”
“Fine,” I hear myself saying despite the thousand burning questions in my brain. “I'm saving mine too.”
We walk in silence along the boardwalk until we reach the rough old steps that someone carved into the rock long ago. I go first, placing my hand on the railing and Crew follows behind. When we get to the top, we walk side by side to The Point Café, Twin Heads’ only claim to fame. The café is in the bottom of the oldest lighthouse on the west coast.
“Hey, Crew!” shouts a woman from behind the coffee machine as soon as we walk in. She looks like every blonde cheerleader who ever made my life hell in high school. She looks me up and down and smirks when she notices my bare feet.
“Hi Sarah,” he waves and then leads me to a table in the far corner by placing a hand in the small of my back. It’s a small gesture, but when I glance back at the girl behind the counter, I can see that it’s one she’s paid careful attention to. She bangs a mug down on the counter top a little harder than necessary.
“Ex-girlfriend?” I ask as I sit down. He raises an eyebrow at me, and I laugh. “Never mind.”
We chat easily, carefully avoiding any personal topics, stopping only when Sarah comes over to take our order. When she leaves again Crew is lining up the sugar, salt and pepper shakers regarding me carefully.
“Wow, Hartley,” he smiles, “I’m so busy at work at the moment.”
I look over at him and see a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“So busy. I’m working non-stop. Work, work, work.”
He looks at me expectantly and narrows his eyes when I say nothing.
“Work is so much harder than college, don’t you think? College was a total breeze compared to work.”
“Hmmmmm,” I murmur noncommittally and smile sweetly at him across the table.
“And don’t you love birthdays?” he tries again. “I really love them. How many birthdays would you say you’ve loved Hartley?”
I turn my face away and try to hide my grin with my hand.
“Come on,” he grins. “I’m working my ass off over here.”
“Fine,” I laugh, “since you’re working so hard. I’m 23; I went to MIT, and I’m a research scientist.” Or was I add silently. “Now your turn.”
“I’m 26, I went to a bunch of different colleges, and I own my own company.”
Sarah stomps over to the table and thumps down the tray sending coffee up and over the side of my cup.
“What kind of company?” I say, taking a small sip of my coffee. It’s awful.
“Well….” he says slowly, “I’d say that question is rather personal.”
�
��No, it’s not,” I say shaking my head. “Uh uh. I told you I was a research scientist. You owe me another piece of information.”
He takes a slow sip of his coffee and then places the almost full cup to the side.
“I buy pieces of at risk land and turn them into sustainable eco-lodges, and then use the profits for initiatives focusing on forest regeneration and wildlife education.”
He says it quickly and without fuss, as if it’s nothing. He may even look a little embarrassed.
“Want to go?” he says suddenly, looking down at my untouched cup of coffee. He’s already standing up by the time I answer.
We walk past the outdoor tables and chairs that have been stacked against the wall out of the weather and out to the observation deck that overlooks the bay. Along the cliff edge is a row of coin-operated telescopes that have been positioned in front of high metal stools. An old man has been sitting on the one at the far end of the deck the whole time we've been at The Point. When he sees us approaching, he carefully climbs down off the stool and walks away. We keep walking until we’re at the railing at the edge of the cliff. I look out at the sweeping horseshoe shaped bay bordered by golden dunes that the local kids like to slide down in summer. The small township lies just behind the dunes, and I see if I can spot my house.
“Hey kid,” Crew says next to me. I look up into his face and see that his expression is serious. All of the morning’s joking and playfulness has gone.
“Yeah?”
He looks down at me.
“Do you want to try something with me?”
I look sideways at the line of hang gliders swan diving off the cliff above us and then back at him. Oh God, please don’t let him be one of those adrenaline junkie guys.
He can see my thoughts flittering across my face, and his mouth twitches in amusement.
“Close your eyes.”
I laugh nervously but do as I'm told, the smell of salt from the sea and the feel of the wind on my face and the back of my neck suddenly intensified now that everything is dark. I'm about to ask him what he's doing when I feel warm hands under my arms, and then I'm being lifted in the air. I let out an unattractive yelping sound and then I'm back down again, sitting backward on one of the metal stools next to the telescopes. I can feel the eyepiece digging into my back. I stay like that for a few seconds, my hands gripping the seat on either side of my hips and my legs dangling in free air. I start to open one eye to see what's going on, but he catches me.
Still Waters Page 3
