I follow the lines of one of the faces with the tip of my finger.
“Not yet,” he sighs. “But maybe it’s starting to.”
I run my finger down the length of his spine, and he sucks in his breath dropping his head onto his arms.
“I love this one,” I say as I run my fingers over the words running up the side of his back. “The moment was all; the moment was enough. That’s from The Waves, right?”
He nods into his arms.
“Virginia Woolf.”
“The moment was enough,” I say softly, and he sighs.
“Whenever I miss her I repeat those words over and over to myself like a mantra. But our moment wasn’t enough for me. I don’t think it ever will be.”
“Crew,” I say, as I lean forward and place a tender kiss at the nape of his neck. “You just need to give me a few more days to figure things out; and then I promise I’ll be an open book.”
He leans back against the bath, and I kneel down behind him and put my arms around his neck. He’s warm and clean, and I have a sudden urge to lick a drop of water off his ear.
“Was this just a plan to distract me from unpacking those boxes?” he bursts out suddenly and straightens up.
I groan into his back and reach down to pinch his nipple.
“Ow!”
“What’s your obsession with unpacking? Are you some kind of controlling neat-freak or something?”
I lean forward so that we’re cheek to cheek. I can feel the side of his face lift up as he smiles.
“You not wanting me to look in them makes me really, really want to look in them. And when I said ‘Ow’ before, what I meant was, pinch me again.”
But before I have time to consider it, there’s a loud knock on the front door.
Chapter Nineteen
Hartley
“Stay here,” I say, jumping to my feet. Crew gives me a look and slides further down into the bath.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he yawns. “I’m beginning to see what you like about this bath thing.”
I shut the door behind me and jog down the hallway. I’m involuntarily smiling so much that my cheeks hurt, and I’m relieved I haven’t had time to hang a mirror up anywhere yet. I don’t want to know what I look like right now.
“Hey!” I smile when I open the door and see Eleanor standing on the verandah in a pair of jeans and a thick woolen jumper. “Wait, why aren’t you in your work clothes? Are you sick?”
She shakes her head and tries to look past me into the house.
“I’m taking a personal day. I really need to talk to you, Hartley. Can we go and get breakfast or something?”
She’s jiggling her keys against her leg, and her forehead has that little wrinkle in it that I know only appears when she’s anxious about something.
“I’ve already eaten,” I say. “But come in.”
I step back, and she walks through the door, shutting it behind her. I start to walk towards the kitchen expecting her to follow me, but she hovers hesitantly by the coat rack and looks at her feet.
“Ok, Nor, what’s this about? Why are you acting weird?”
She looks up to meet my eyes and then sighs.
“I really just want you to be happy Hart.”
She leans back against the door and looks at me carefully, as if she’s deciding on the best way to tell me some bad news.
“I am pretty happy, considering,” I shrug. I know that through the thin tongue and groove walls Crew will be able to hear every word. “Do you want to come into the kitchen and sit down?”
She shakes her head.
“Do you remember my oldest sister Jenny?” she says, and there’s a slight edge to her voice all of a sudden.
“Sure.”
I think of the times I’ve met Eleanor’s big sister. She’s blonde and outdoorsy and has a beautiful smile.
“Well, Crew Sullivan broke her heart.”
“What do you mean?”
“He took her out when he came back to town. She thought it was the real deal because he kept making all of these plans with her. ‘We’ should spend the summer down at my Uncle’s house in Costa Rica. ‘We’ should take a skiing trip. ‘We’ should start thinking about the future. But really all he wanted was to get her into bed and then leave.”
My stomach begins to churn and suddenly I am far too aware of the bacon and eggs I ate earlier.
“Oh.”
“It wasn’t just Jenny, either. He went after pretty much every woman in his target age range every time he came back here. And let me tell you, his age range was pretty broad. You know Mrs. Hunter from the decorating shop in town?”
I think of the attractive woman in her late 40s who sold me my new cushion covers. She had sleek black hair and frightening red fingernails.
“I don’t want you to get involved with him,” she whispers. “I’m scared for you.”
Her eyes are beginning to well up, and she’s nervously chewing her lip.
“Nor,” I sigh and walk towards her. “I know about his past. He’s been through a lot, and he admits that he’s made some mistakes. But I feel good about this. Please don’t worry.”
She looks into my eyes and shakes her head.
“No. He’s just trying to get into your pants, Hart. He’s not interested in you.”
I take a step back from her and cross my arms.
“That was a little unnecessary.”
She lifts her chin defiantly and blows the air out angrily through her mouth.
“It’s also untrue,” cuts in Crew’s deep voice from behind me.
Eleanor’s eyes are wild and as big as saucers. She looks at me accusingly and turns to go.
“I said what I had to say,” she mutters into the door. “Now I’m going.”
I stand in silence as Nor shuts the door behind her and drives away.
When I turn around, I can see at once why Eleanor reacted the way she did. Crew is standing in the hallway, naked except for a fluffy pink towel wrapped around his waist. And he doesn’t look one bit sorry about it.
“You couldn’t put a pair of pants on?” I scowl and the corner of his mouth twitches.
“Sorry.”
“You are not! Now she thinks we slept together last night. Thanks a lot.”
“Are you mad at me?” he laughs, and that just makes me madder.
“No!”
“You are so. What did I do wrong?”
“Oh I don’t know, how about sleeping with my best friend’s sister then ditching her so she hates you and then running around in my hallway almost naked and looking like.. looking like.. that!”
He looks down at his chest and stomach and the pink towel, and then back up to meet my eyes.
“Ok. Maybe I could have put some clothes on. But I heard what she said about me just wanting to get into your pants, and it pissed me off.”
“Well I think it’s a pretty reasonable assumption to make given your history, don’t you?”
His smile disappears, and all of the amusement is suddenly gone from his eyes.
“I’m going to go and wash and get dressed,” I mutter, and he nods and steps out of my way.
“Do you want me to go?”
He looks serious and guarded, like he’s shutting down.
“No,” I sigh. “Don’t go. But please, cover yourself up. Your abs are hurting my eyes.”
A minute later and I’m in my bathroom looking at the neat pile of his clothes on the floor. He’s even folded his boxer shorts. I pick them up and quietly place them on the floor outside. There isn’t enough hot water for another bath, and I’m beginning to regret telling my landlord that I don’t mind the broken shower. After a moment’s hesitation, I quickly pull off my t-shirt, bra and pajama bottoms and slip into the water. The water is still warm, but the bubbles have almost disappeared. It’s lucky Eleanor turned up when she did. Thinking of Eleanor makes me think about Crew. Even though he told me he has a past, it’s not quite the same thing as knowing
he slept with my best friend’s sister. This thing with Crew is starting to feel really messy. And if I’m honest, I have to admit that spending so much time with him has been a convenient distraction from those vials of contaminated water sitting in the bottom of my refrigerator. But I can’t avoid it forever. At some point, I’m going to have to deal with it.
When I walk into the kitchen half an hour later in a clean pair of jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt, Crew has made a pot of tea and opened a bag of cookies. He’s sitting at the table in his clothes from last night, and his expression is serious.
“Take a seat,” he says, pulling out a chair. “Hartley. I am sorry that I had sex with Eleanor’s sister. If I could go back and deal with the accident differently, believe me, I would. But I was very clear about my past with you last night. I really like you,” he says softly and takes my hand. “But this isn’t going to go anywhere if my history is too much for you to deal with. If it is, I’ll understand.”
He drops my hand and pours some tea into my teacup, remembering the strainer this time. I take a sip and look at him over the rim.
“I guess I need to know how far in the past this stuff is. Are we talking years? Months? A week?”
He takes a bite out of a chocolate chip cookie and chews it slowly.
“Just over a year. Some stuff I’ve pulled way back on, like drinking. And some things I’ve stopped altogether.”
He pours some milk into his teacup and stirs it quickly.
“Like what?”
“Sex, mainly.”
He looks at me carefully.
“You mean sex with women you don’t know?”
He shakes his head.
“I mean any sex at all.”
Wow. What? The confusion must be showing on my face because when I look back at him, he’s grinning.
“You haven’t had sex in over a year?”
“Nope.”
“How is that possible?”
He’s openly laughing now.
“Well, Hartley,” he says quietly, leaning in so that we’re almost nose to nose. “When a man and a woman love each other, they have a very special cuddle….”
I sit back a bit and narrow my eyes at him.
“So I’ve just been very careful not to do anything that might mean I accidentally cuddle someone in a very special way. That’s all.”
“What I meant was,” I say, smiling tightly, “when you look like that, you must have women coming on to you all the time. And you’re a man, so…”
“I just say no, kid. It was the only way I knew how to stop.”
I lean back in my chair and think briefly about the last time I had sex. An image of David rushing out of bed to take a shower as soon as we’d finished flashes through my mind. That must have been at least a month ago. Do I miss it? I can’t say that I do.
“Oh, wow. Wow. This is amazing,” Crew laughs as he pulls out another set of bright orange kitchen scales from a box. I put them next to the two sets of scales I’ve already found and try to stop the heat from traveling up my face.
“Just tell me one thing. And I’m only going to ask once,” he smiles. “Hartley, are you a hoarder?”
“Ha ha ha. I’m not a hoarder. I just went a bit crazy buying things to set up the house, and I lost track of what I’d already ordered. I told you I didn’t want to do this.”
“And these!” he cries as he pushes some tissue paper aside. “What are these about?”
He’s holding a set of placemats with purple pineapples all over them. I put my hands over my face and groan.
“I will try to explain this to you, but you can’t make fun of me.”
I slump down onto the ground next to him and look over at the set of salt and peppershakers that look like kittens. We’ve been through almost all of the boxes and bags and now the house is beginning to look a little less like a thrift store and a little more like a home.
He puts his hand over his heart and nods for me to continue.
“I bought a house back home, and I redecorated it all by myself. I did the floors and painted all of the ceilings and remodeled the kitchen. I’d almost finished it when I left, and I thought it was perfect. But then when I got here, I realized that I’d redecorated my house exactly the way my mother would have done it. Even the curtains are the same ones she has hanging in her sitting room. I didn’t even realize it until I got here, and I saw this house for the first time. So,” I sigh and pick up a placemat. “I wanted to make this place perfect for me this time. And I went a little nuts.”
“Why didn’t you just say that?” he says. “I was beginning to think you had something really interesting in these boxes.”
“Like what?”
Crew screws up his face in concentration and pretends to think.
“An extensive porn collection from the seventies.”
“Ew!”
“Five hundred Barbie dolls still in their boxes?”
I’m trying not to smile as I wait for him to come up with something else. I’m thinking he’s either going to go with toenail clippings or belly button fluff when his phone starts ringing from the table. I stand up and start collecting up the empty paper bags that are littered across the floor to give him some space to take the call.
“Hello?” he says, smiling at me as he presses the phone to his ear. “Si. Cuando? Rayos no vayas a hacer nada esperame a que llegue ok?”
He hangs up and looks over at me. My heart is sinking because I already know where this is going. Do not do anything until I get there.
“That doesn’t sound good,” I say, noticing that he’s suddenly full of tension and nervous energy. He’s already looking around the room for his keys.
“It isn’t. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to catch a flight out tonight. There’s a problem with the Venezuelan project, and I can’t stay away any longer.”
I nod to myself and stuff an armful of bags into a cardboard box to try to hide my disappointment.
“I need to get home and change and start packing. Do you want to come over later? I’ll make us some lunch before I go.”
I look at him for a moment and think about whether that would be a good idea or not. As far as I’m concerned, this is hurting enough already without me seeing his house and him making me lunch.
“Ok.”
He quickly writes down his address on the back of an envelope and then suddenly looks up.
“I keep forgetting you don’t have a car. I’ll pick you up. Is two good?”
I place a hand on his forearm and lean forward to rest my forehead on his chest. He smells too good.
“I think I’ll walk along the beach.”
He places a hand on my hair and then wraps his fingers around the back of my head, pulling me closer to him. I want to say that I’ll miss him. I want to ask when he’ll be back. But instead I just stand there and try to remember exactly the way he feels when he holds me.
Chapter Twenty
Hartley
After Crew leaves, I wander around for a while, tidying up the last of the boxes and putting away things in the kitchen. Every time I walk past the refrigerator I think about the samples. Without Crew here to distract me it feels like everything I’ve been running from is catching up with me. It doesn’t help that every few minutes the screen on my phone lights up with a new message. I walk over to where it’s sitting in the fruit bowl on the end of the kitchen counter and pick it up. There are lots of text messages from David. I scroll down to a message sent around the time I left The Sea Shack last night. It’s actually kind of sweet.
Baby, I miss you so much. I don’t understand why you’re doing this.
But then I skim over the rest of them.
If you just come back to work, everything can go back to normal.
Stop sulking and come home. You’re embarrassing yourself.
You’re a selfish brat; you know that?
Do you know what people at work are saying about you?
Answer at least one of m
y God damn messages, or I’m going to lose it.
Baby, if I have to come and find you, I promise you that you’ll regret it.
There are voice messages from my dad’s phone and one from my mom, and then there are three from a number I wasn’t expecting. They’re from my intern Lauren.
Lauren and I clicked from her very first day at Preston Industries. Partly because we’re the same age and partly because I liked the way she brought out the eccentric, quirky side of me. The fact that I was her boss never once got in the way. I hesitate for a moment, my finger hovering over her name on the screen and then taking a deep breath, I press the button. She answers on the first ring.
“Hartley?” she yells into the phone. I jump and pull it away from my ear.
“Where are you? Hartley?”
“Hi, Lauren.”
“It’s so good to hear your voice. I’ve been so worried about you. Are you ok?”
“I’m fine. Are you at work?”
I picture her standing in the small office area next door to the labs, her white labcoat thrown over her signature outfit – vintage dress and stripy tights.
“No, I’m in a café down the street. Hartley, what’s going on?”
I bite my lip and look out the window as I try to think of what to say to her.
“Do you remember the data I showed you for Bridal Falls?”
“The samples?”
“Yes.”
“What about them?”
“Has anyone been asking about them? Anyone from the top floor?”
She’s quiet for a second and then she sighs.
“Where are you, Hartley?”
I can hear her breathing. I’m about to ask her to email me the files I wasn’t able to access the day I left Preston Industries but then it hits me. There are no sounds coming through the phone other than her breathing in and out rapidly as if she’s panicking. I can’t hear people talking or a coffee machine or chairs scraping along the floor. I quickly press the ‘End’ button and throw the phone on the table. This is ridiculous. I reach over to the phone and quickly press my dad’s number before I have a chance to change my mind.
“Hartley,” he says briskly. “Where are you?”
Still Waters Page 10
