Still Waters

by Rebecca Addison

  “Oh,” she says, and for some reason I think she looks relieved.

  “You ready for this?”

  She nods and her face breaks into a wide grin.

  “So ready. Let’s go.”

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Hartley

  While Crew waits in the kitchen, I rummage through my handbag looking for my passport. Why did I have to give him a fake name on the beach? Preston isn’t even that unusual, he probably wouldn’t have connected me to the Preston family if I’d told him the truth anyway. Now it’s just another stupid thing I’m keeping from him, and it feels horrible.

  “You ok there?” he smiles as he walks into the room and takes in the mountain of clothes I’ve pulled out of my every drawer.

  “No. I don’t have any summer clothes. I only grabbed winter stuff when I left home.”

  “What about this?” he says mischievously as he picks up a lacy black bra off the floor and dangles the strap over one finger. “This looks nice.”

  “I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t be touching my underwear.”

  I take the bra off him and deliberately put it into the bag. When I catch his eye, he’s looking at me intently.

  “We may need to revise that rule.”

  My breath catches in my throat, and he smiles when he notices. Damn him.

  “Seriously, Crew. I have jeans and woolen jumpers and scarves here. I’m a red head. With your skin tone, you can’t possibly understand. I’m telling you if I wear this stuff in the heat I’m going to look like a beetroot!”

  “Well, in that case,” he laughs, “we’ve got to stop in Caracas for a couple of hours before we head to the village, so I’ll take you shopping then.”

  I sigh and throw a couple of t-shirts and my makeup bag on top of the bra.

  “Great,” I say as I zip up the bag. “But I’m buying my own clothes. You’re taking me to South America. I think that’s quite enough for one day.”

  He looks down at his watch and then picks up his jacket from the bed and pulls it on over his t-shirt.

  “All packed?”

  I take a second to look at him with his messy hair that’s just starting to curl a little at the ends and his river green eyes that are dancing with excitement. He looks relaxed, open, and completely different to the guy I first met at The Sea Shack.

  “What?” he says when he sees me staring at him.

  “It’s nothing,” I smile and reach down to grab my handbag. “You just look happy, that’s all.”

  He doesn’t say anything as he picks up my suitcase and opens the door for me with his foot. But when I walk past him he reaches out his free hand and stops me. I look up at him, half expecting him to make a joke, but his eyes are full of gratitude.

  “I am happy.”

  Outside we hear a car horn honk twice, and Crew checks his pockets for his phone and his passport.

  “I’ll be right out,” I smile and go up on my toes so that I can kiss his mouth. “I’ll meet you in the car.”

  I watch him from the kitchen window as he puts our bags in the trunk and laughs about something with the driver. When he climbs into the back seat I quickly pull the water samples out from the container in the fridge and place them in the cooler bag I took from the lab. It’s not ideal, but I can’t risk leaving the samples here while I’m gone. When I look back out the window Crew has wound his window down. He’s looking at my house, and I’m pretty sure he’s checking out the piece of weatherboard near the roof that broke off in the storm. He looks pretty cute when he frowns. I put the cooler bag in a pocket inside my handbag and place my hand over it for a second. I hope I’m doing the right thing.

  “Don’t freak out, but do we have time for one super quick stop on the way to the airport?” I ask as soon as I’m in the car.

  Crew narrows his eyes at me, and then pulls me to him.

  “How super quick?”

  “Super, super quick.”

  “Fine,” he groans in mock exasperation. “Tell Frank where you want to go.”

  I lean forward and give the driver the address and in a couple of minutes we’ve pulled up outside Eleanor’s little white house. It’s pretty much identical to the fisherman’s cottage I live in, except that she’s extended hers so that she has two extra bedrooms out the back. Eleanor has been planning for babies since she was about nine.

  “Hi Hart,” she says quietly when she opens the door. “I was hoping you’d come by.”

  She looks past me to the black SUV that’s sitting by her gate.

  “Is that his car?”

  “I wish I had time to talk to properly,” I sigh as I place a hand on her arm. “I just need you to trust me when you hear what I’m about to say.”

  She looks at me suspiciously.

  “Please, Nor. We’ve been friends for 17 years. Just listen.”

  She looks past me to the car again and nods warily.

  “I need you to take care of something for me. It’s important.” I take the cooler bag out from my handbag and pass it to her.

  “What is it?”

  “They’re samples from the lab at Preston. I need you to keep them somewhere safe, and they need to stay cold. It’s absolutely vital that they’re not opened. And if anyone turns up asking for them, even David or Dad, say you don’t know anything about them.”

  “Hart,” Eleanor whispers, “you’re scaring me. What are they?”

  “I’ll tell you everything when I get back, I promise. But I have to go now.”

  “Wait, where are you going?” she says, suddenly panicked. “Is he taking you somewhere?”

  “I’ll keep in touch,” I say reassuringly. “Please Nor, don’t worry about me. He’s not who you think he is.”

  She looks down at the bag in her hand and then back up into my eyes.

  “Tell him that if he hurts you I’m going to cut off his balls and cook them for breakfast.”

  I look at her standing there in her oversized white cardigan with her hair falling out of her ponytail and her pink bunny rabbit slippers on her feet.

  “I’ll tell him, Nor,” I say seriously. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to go.”

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Crew

  I hang up the phone to Jake just as Hartley opens the car door.

  “Everything ok?”

  “Yeah, just letting Jake know that I need to head off for a while. I was meant to visit his mom in the hospital this week.”

  “Is she going to be alright?”

  I look down into her whiskey-colored eyes, all wide and beautiful and full of compassion.

  “No. She’s not going to be all right. But she’s doing better, and they’re letting her go home tonight.”

  She nods sadly and bites her lip. She’s trying to keep her eyes on me, but I keep catching her looking up at Eleanor’s front door.

  “Hey,” I say as I reach over to hold her hand. “If you’ve changed your mind, it’s ok. There’s no pressure.”

  I try to say it casually, but the underlying panic in my voice is obvious. She looks up at me and smiles.

  “I want to go. Things are just a bit weird with Eleanor; that’s all.”

  Now it’s her turn to try and sound casual like she doesn’t care at all that I’ve walked into her life and caused a rift between her and her best friend.

  “It’s because of me,” I say, and she gives my hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go.

  “She doesn’t know you.”

  I reach my hand across and place it on the back of her head, bringing her face close. She rubs her nose on mine for a second, and it makes me laugh, and then she tilts her head to the side and kisses me slowly. She smells like lavender, and I realize that she must have hopped in the bath after me. Maybe it’s picturing her naked, or perhaps it’s the thought of sharing a bath with her, but something suddenly makes me want to do things to her that I probably shouldn’t, considering there’s a middle aged balding guy sitting two feet away.

  “A
re we ready to leave Mr. Sullivan?” Frank says from the front. Ever the professional, he keeps his eyes straight ahead.

  Hartley pulls away from me, her cheeks flushed from embarrassment or desire, and I hope to God it’s the second one.

  “Let’s go to Venezuela,” I smile, and her eyes light up with excitement.

  It’s normally a grueling eleven hour flight to Caracas, but this time the trip has never felt so fast. Hartley surprises me by being quite at home on board a luxury plane as if she’s been on trips like this one many times before. If she has, there’s probably more to her family story than what she’s told me so far. We spend some time eating and watching movies, but mostly we just talk. I don’t think I’ve talked this much in the last five years put together. But it feels good. As each hour passes the words loosen up in my mouth. I find myself talking for longer, revealing more about myself. I don't feel the urge anymore to fill the silences with jokes.

  “Wait,” she laughs, sometime around midnight. “How old were you?”

  “Seven.”

  “That’s pretty young for a first kiss.”

  I smile and pull her closer to me under the blanket.

  “How old were you?”

  “Oh no,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m not telling you now.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s embarrassing.”

  “Let me guess then. Thirteen?”

  She pulls the edge of the blanket up so that it hides her burning face.

  “Fifteen? Older than fifteen? Weren’t you almost finished with college by then?”

  She peeks out from under the blanket and elbows me in the ribs.

  “Sixteen. I was sixteen.”

  “So you were at college, away from your parents, and you didn’t even kiss anyone until you were about to graduate?”

  “I was a very serious student,” she huffs. “Plus, I think you need to take a look inside an advanced chem lab at one of those schools. The guys in them don’t typically look like you, Crew.”

  “Like me?” I tease and lift the bottom of her shirt under the blanket so I can rub my hand across her stomach. My fingers curl around her waist just above the belt threaded through her jeans.

  She sucks in her breath when I touch her, but still manages to scowl at me anyway.

  “Yes. And don’t be silly about it. I’m sure you’ve looked in a mirror before.”

  “Are you always this pragmatic?”

  She nods.

  “It’s terrifying.”

  “Tell me about where we’re going,” she says sometime later, moving closer so that I can feel her leg along the length of mine. I brush the hair off her face and move my other hand under her shirt so that my palm is flat against her lower back.

  “It’s a large piece of land on the coast. It looks like a postcard when you’re down on the sand, but everywhere else is steep and access is a total pain in the ass.”

  “How long have you owned it for?”

  “I only bought it a year ago. I went to look at it, not planning on making an offer, but then there was this dickhead viewing it, and he assumed it was already his.”

  “You bought it because someone else wanted it?” she says, and her frown is playing tug of war with the laughter in her eyes.

  “No. I bought it because he was very open about the fact that he was going to bulldoze the mountainside and build timeshare apartments.”

  She leans into my side and tucks her shoulder under my armpit.

  “Right. So what’s happening with it now?”

  “I’m building some eco-cabins. They’re a bit like the ones at Ondas, but smaller, and most of them are up in the treetops. I’m trying to keep the forest as undisturbed as I can. That’s why we’re on our way there. One of the contractors cut down a section of the forest without my permission.”

  “It sounds amazing,” she sighs into my chest. “I’m kind of jealous listening to you talk about your work. I miss that.”

  I’ve already asked her what her plan for the future is, and I’m not going to go there again. I think she already knows that there isn’t a future for someone like her in Twin Heads. Maybe she’s ignoring it, or maybe she’s in denial. Either way, I’m determined not to push her because the last thing I want is to push her away.

  “When the project is under control again I was thinking of taking you to Ondas,” I say quietly into her hair. She pulls away from me, sliding across the seat so that my hand is pulled away from her back. I reach for the blanket, soft and still warm from our body heat, and tuck it back around her.

  “Costa Rica?” she says, pushing her hair off her face and looking away. I wish she’d tell me what she’s thinking. I’ve spent the last eight years of my life defensive and locked in a prison of secrets. I can recognize a fellow inmate anywhere.

  “Is that a problem?”

  She looks up, her eyes wide with concern and something else, too. She looks conflicted, like she’s wrestling with something.

  “No. It’s just that I didn’t think I’d be down here for long. I’d love to see it, it’s just that..”

  “It’s just that what?” I can hear the edge creeping into my voice, and I make an effort to pull it back under control. “I'm not sure how long I need to be down there. I think I told you before that I don't plan too far in advance. But,” I say, softening my tone, “I did say that you could go back whenever you felt like it. If you don’t want to come with me to Ondas, I’ll buy you a ticket home.”

  She tucks her legs up and scoots over a little, but she still won’t meet my eyes.

  “I want to go with you. Of course I do. There’s just this one thing I have to take care of at home, and I’m worried about leaving it too long.”

  Her skin is paler than usual all of a sudden. Her freckles look like they’ve been drawn on with a marker. When she finally looks up at me, her eyes are full of tears.

  “Hey,” I say, putting an arm around her shoulder and pulling her to me. “What’s happening? Are you ok?”

  She moves back, creating distance between us, and shakes her head.

  “Everything is so fucked up.”

  And that surprises me because I thought everything was just beginning to be pretty damn perfect.

  “I can’t help you, kid, if you won’t tell me what’s going on,” I say helplessly.

  She starts breathing in short, sharp bursts.

  “I want to tell you, but I can’t,” she gasps and places her hand on her chest. She looks white against the camel colored seats, and her fingers are fluttering over her heart. “I didn’t plan for any of this to happen.”

  Her eyes are wide and frightened; she’s an animal caught in a trap. Fortunately, I recognize the signs of a panic attack when I see one, having become an expert in them myself over the years.

  “Hartley,” I say clearly as I climb out of my seat and kneel down in front of her so that we’re face to face. “You need to take a deep breath. Follow me.” I breathe in and out slowly, and she tries to copy me. “Look at me, that’s it, you’re doing great. Another breath in… and out. That’s good babe, try again.”

  She draws the breath in raggedly, her shoulders shaking with the strain, and then blows it out through her mouth. When she can speak again, she’s mumbling something to herself but I can’t make out the words over the hum of the engine.

  “You’re ok,” I whisper and pull her into my chest. She rests her head on my shoulder and takes another deep breath through her mouth.

  I hold her tightly while in my head I ask all of the questions I’m not brave enough to say out loud.

  Do you still love David?

  Do you think you can ever love me?

  And then there’s the other question, the one that’s loud and persistent in my brain.

  Hartley, what are you hiding?

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Hartley

  After a fairly disastrous shopping trip in Caracas, Crew and I are bumping along in the back of an SUV o
n an unsealed mountain road. We’re on our way to his newest eco-village, and Crew has been checking his emails for the last hour, lost in thought.

  I'd been in Venezuela for about two seconds before I realized that I had just arrived in the world of Miss Universe women. They were everywhere, walking past me in the airport lounge, touching up their makeup next to me in the bathroom mirror, throwing back their pretty heads and laughing with their beautiful mouths. The girl who sold me a Snickers bar looked like she belonged on the cover of Vogue. They were universally tall and long-limbed, their hair a glossy black wave down their backs and their skin kissed by the sun. So when we visited some high-end boutiques in Centro Comercial Paseo Las Mercedes to look for some summer clothes, it was fairly inevitable that everything would go wrong. The dresses were not made for women my size and the fabric puddled at my feet. Tops gaped open accusingly, because when I’m in Venezuela I apparently lack a serious amount of bosom. The shop assistants sighed and laughed as they pulled out dress after dress, after dress for me to try on until eventually even they despaired of me, rattling off a string of sentences in Spanish that were too fast for me to get but made Crew’s mouth twitch in amusement. And of course, they were both tall, confident and effortlessly sexy. I couldn’t help but notice that they were both wearing tops that didn’t gape thanks to their very ample and very exposed cleavage. The more frustrating the whole situation became; the funnier Crew found it. Thankfully he ignored the blatant attempts of the shop assistants to get his attention, which must have been difficult, let's be honest. After yet another flowing resort print number that looked more like a tent on me than a dress, I gave up. I ended up buying some singlet tops and a couple of plain white cotton dresses from a store aimed at Tweens, and at the last minute I grabbed the smallest bikini I could find from a rack in a surf shop.

  We haven’t talked much on the ride to the village, and I’m wondering if it’s because of what happened on the plane. I get the feeling that he’s deliberately not talking about the way I panicked when he asked me to fly to Costa Rica with him, but I know that we can’t avoid it for long. Ever since I left Jefferson, I seem to be making one impulsive decision after another. I should be back in Twin Heads right now, preparing a report to the Environmental Protection Agency about the samples from Bridal Falls. But instead I’m in another country, sitting next to a man I suspect is a little more damaged inside than he’s letting on.