Still Waters

by Rebecca Addison

  “This is it,” Crew yawns as we climb the last bend in the road and a low wooden building comes into view. It’s almost hidden by the trees that climb up each side and bend over the roof.

  “The cabins are up in the hills behind the lodge. I’ll take you up after I find Evita. She’s the Manager.”

  He shuts the door behind him, and I lean back against the seat. I’m bone tired, desperate for a shower, and there’s still an undercurrent of panic sitting somewhere just under my ribs. Crew opens my door and puts his arm on the roof, leaning in.

  “Come on beautiful, just a few more steps and then you can take a nap.”

  I look up at him and sigh. He looks like he stepped off a runway somewhere, he’s all tousled and tanned and sexy looking.

  “Is it that obvious?”

  He winks and pulls me out of the car by the hand.

  “You’ll feel better after you get some sleep.”

  “Why don’t you look like you need to take a nap?” I scowl.

  He looks down at me and smiles.

  “I’m used to it. Come on, I’ll show you where your room is.”

  We walk into a large open reception area with a beautiful pitched wooden ceiling and no walls. Tall wooden posts on all sides hold up a thatched roof, and here and there someone has lowered a blind to keep out the sun. A small, tough looking woman is standing behind a desk, talking rapidly into a phone. Her eyes light up when she sees us walk into the room, and she hangs up.

  “Crew! My darling!” she cries in Spanish and throws her arms around him. He has to stoop to hug her.

  “Evita, this is Hartley, you can speak to her in Spanish,” he says, and the woman looks at me. Her eyes widen with surprise for a split second, but she recovers nicely, and suddenly I’m being whisked away to a small dining area and Evita is pouring me a drink.

  “It’s nice to see you again,” calls out a deep voice in English and when I turn to look, the driver from Twin Heads is smiling at me from the bar and wiping a handkerchief across his forehead.

  “What’s Frank doing here?” I gasp, and Crew laughs.

  “He’s in charge of my security,” he says, flicking the top off a bottle of beer. “He usually travels with me when I’m working.”

  I look over at the man who must be in his late fifties. He has a belly that hangs over his pants and his shirt is already drenched with sweat. Crew sees the look on my face and whispers into my ear.

  “He’s the brains. Those two over there are the muscles.”

  I look over in the direction of his gaze and see two men I hadn’t noticed. They’re sitting down the back, facing the room.

  “I don’t need security all the time,” he says reassuringly and then raises his voice so that Frank looks up. “A lot of the year I just pay them to be on vacation, waiting for my call. That’s pretty much how it goes, right?”

  Frank raises his glass in a salute and down the back the two men laugh.

  “But you need security now?” I say quietly so that only he can hear. He puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me close to him.

  “Part of my job is taking land away from people who planned on making a lot of money from it. Sometimes that doesn’t win me any friends.”

  He looks happy and relaxed as he takes a drink from his beer and speaks in perfect Spanish to Evita and a couple of girls who appeared like magic as soon as Crew entered the room. But I’m not feeling that well. The drink Evita made me seems to have bypassed my empty stomach and gone straight to my head. I desperately need to lie down.

  “Crew?” I say quietly, “do you think you could show me where my room is now?”

  He looks down at me suddenly, and his demeanor completely changes.

  “Sorry kid. I should have taken you straight up. Let’s go.”

  We walk out past the two security guys through a doorway at the back of the room and along a covered walkway. Crew leads me up some stairs that have been cut into the rock and along a path that’s been covered in pebbles. Above me in the trees are small, simple wooden houses on stilts. Some of them have openings in the walls, but no glass, others are larger and look more like little houses floating up amongst the leaves.

  “This is your one,” he says when we reach the base of an enormous tree. The staircase has been made to fit the trunk so that as we walk up, we’re winding around and around until we reach the top. When he pushes the door open, I can’t stop myself from making a little squealing sound. It’s every treehouse I ever dreamed of as a child. It’s every bride’s honeymoon fantasy. It’s full of dappled light and frothy mosquito netting and in the center of the room is the most beautiful four-poster bed I think I’ve ever seen.

  “You like it?” Crew says shyly, and I realize that I haven’t actually said anything yet.

  “I love it.”

  He comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist.

  “Good.”

  “Where is your room?” I say, and as soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize how suggestive that sounds.

  “Right over there,” he murmurs into my ear and points out through the open window to a smaller treehouse with openings instead of windows.

  “Wait, why is yours so much smaller? Shouldn’t you have the best one, since you own the place?”

  He laughs into my hair and squeezes me tighter.

  “I like to keep things simple,” he says. “I’m happier with just a mattress on the floor and fresh air coming in. I like listening to the forest and the sea at night.”

  “Mmmmmm,” I sigh and close my eyes. The room is swaying a little, and I want to ask him if it’s because we’re up so high, but I don’t in case it’s the alcohol.

  “I’ll let you get some sleep,” he says softly. “I’ve got some work to do. When I’m done, I’ll come up and see if you’re awake and in the mood for dinner.”

  He pulls his arms away from my waist and kisses me lightly on the cheek before walking to the door. I can hear him making his way down the staircase, humming as he goes.

  After Crew leaves, I take a proper look around the room. The bed takes up most of it, but there’s a small table with an information package on the top and under the big window at the front there’s a deep stone bath. I turn the tap and a second later water gushes into it from a hole in the ceiling. As the bath fills up, I flick through the information booklet and take note of the Wi-Fi password. I didn’t have time to buy a new phone before we left, but I did remember to grab my iPad so that I could let Eleanor know where I am. The booklet tells a little bit about the history of the land and what the plans are for the eco-village in the future. I’m both surprised and impressed to read that one hundred percent of the profits are used for conservation projects and initiatives for the local community.

  After washing my hair and trying out all of the little soaps and body washes I find in a basket on the floor, I reluctantly climb out. At home, I could spend a couple of hours in the bath but right now all I can think of is sleep. I wrap myself in a towel and pull back the mosquito netting on the bed. Every cell in my body is screaming for sleep, but before I can close my eyes, there’s one thing that I know I have to do. I pull my iPad out of my bag and go to my emails.

  To: Dad; David

  From: Hartley

  3.42pm

  I want to tell you both that I’ve finally made some decisions, and not just about the samples, about a lot of things.

  I’ve spent the majority of my life trying to make someone else happy. Daddy, all throughout my childhood I allowed you and Mom to show me off like I was some kind of party trick. I went to the schools you liked, and I studied the program you chose for me because you wanted me to work in your laboratory after I graduated. Worst of all, I let you choose a man to be my partner, even though I knew that David and I could never be truly happy together.

  Daddy, please don’t misunderstand me. I am so thankful for all of the opportunities and all of the blessings that being part of the Preston family has given me. I know t
hat you’re reading this thinking about how ungrateful I am. But please, believe me, it’s just the opposite. I have been so grateful, so very thankful for everything that I have that I’ve spent my life trying to deserve it. It’s so easy to sound arrogant when you’re smart. It’s so easy to sound spoiled when you have money. So I’ve kept my opinion to myself, even when I knew in my soul that the decisions people were making for me weren’t right. But Daddy, I should never have allowed you to take away my voice. I own that. And it’s time for me to make some changes.

  I’m writing to tell you that I’m not going to let that happen anymore. I have the samples, and I’m giving you one week to do the right thing. If you don’t send me proof that the findings have been reported, then you’re leaving me no choice but to make the report myself. I don’t want to do it, but I will.

  And as for you, David, I want you to stop sending me threatening messages. You don’t scare me. You can’t bully me any longer. And if you’re really honest with yourself, you will realize that you don’t want me anyway. I’m too wild for you. I leave my things in a mess, and I forget to brush my hair. I’m always late to those benefit concerts you make me go to and I’m terrible at that polite, witty banter that seems to be the code people in your world use to figure out the pecking order. Go and find yourself some well-bred, obedient society girl. I hear Lisa from marketing is quite nice.

  Daddy, I hope to hear from you soon with some good news. For the last time, please do the right thing.

  From,

  Hartley.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Crew

  When I reach the top of the staircase, I hesitate for a moment and then quietly push open the door.

  Hartley is curled on her side under the mosquito netting on the bed, her hair soft and spread out over the white linen. She’s wrapped in a towel that’s come undone a little so that I can see the long lines of her back. She stirs when I walk into the room and rubs her eyes.

  “Good nap?” I smile, and she nods sleepily.

  “Great nap. What time is it?”

  “Almost six. You slept for a while. Are you hungry?”

  She pulls the towel tight around her and sits up.

  “Mmmm hmm.”

  She’s so beautiful sitting there with her legs tucked under her and her long curls spilling over her shoulder. She looks like a Renaissance painting.

  “What?” she says when she notices my eyes on her but I can’t pull them away.

  “You look so pretty.”

  I try to elaborate but desire leaps through my belly, aching and hungry, and then I’m lost for words. She smiles and looks down at the towel.

  “I’ll just get dressed, and I’ll meet you at the bottom?”

  I nod dumbly and leave the room.

  When she walks around the staircase encircling the tree, it’s even harder to keep my eyes off her than before. She’s wearing a white beach dress that she bought from a children’s shop. I think it was made to be long, but on her it stops just above her knee. She’s pulled her hair up into a knot at the base of her neck, and she’s wearing a pair of gold sandals on her feet. Watching her walk around and around the trunk of the tree is an exquisite form of torture.

  “You look amazing,” I say when she finally reaches the bottom, and I can pull her to me. She smells like coconut and sugar.

  “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  She smiles up into my face, and I’m happy I took the time to shower and change into some clean clothes.

  “I can’t wait to show you this.”

  I take her hand, pulling her along like some kind of excited schoolboy on parents’ day, eager to show her what I’ve made. She runs after me, laughing and skipping over the pebbles on the path until we reach a small track leading down to the sand. I slow down then, because the path can be steep and because I want to be sure to see her face when we get to the other side. I lead her out, through the vines and the trees and the dampness of the forest until we’re standing on a sandy shore, all alone.

  “What is this?” she breathes as she takes in the long wooden jetty I built with my Uncles during a hot summer six months ago. At the end is a small cabana that we made from an ancient tree that washed up on the shore. It has a roof to keep out the sun but the walls are open. When you’re inside it, it feels like you’re far out to sea, with nothing around you but ocean. We walk down the jetty hand in hand and my heart just about bursts when she notices the candles that I had Evita’s daughters put all the way along the edges. When we reach the end, she pulls the netting aside and steps in.

  “Oh,” she says quietly, as she kicks off her sandals and crawls over the big platform covered in pillows.

  When she turns around her eyes are round and wet and her bottom lip trembles.

  “It’s like our cubby house.”

  I climb onto the platform in front of her and kiss away the teardrops under her eyes, one by one.

  “I told you I have a thing for forts.”

  “This is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me,” she whispers.

  “You deserve it.”

  She lifts her arms and threads her fingers through the hair at the back of my neck and the need inside me sparks to life again. The longing is so strong that I have to close my eyes.

  “Thank you,” she murmurs against my lips, and then I’m kissing her, pulling her head back with my hands so that I can have more of her. She takes her hands from my hair and runs them over my arms, making them erupt with goose bumps.

  I kiss her, and kiss her until there’s no way for me to keep my mouth on her without touching her somewhere else.

  “Mmmmm,” she says as she moves her lips away from mine and places them on the side of my neck. She’s up on her knees next to me, and my hands are itching to throw her onto my lap, but instead I run them up the back of her legs over her dress. She presses her ass into my hands and pulls my earlobe into her mouth, biting it the way I did to her.

  “Hartley,” I say, but I don’t know why because there are no words there to follow it.

  She smiles against my neck and then pulls back so that we are looking into each other’s faces. Her eyes are burning, and her cheeks are flushed, she breathes heavily through lips that are swollen and perfectly pink. I wonder what I look like.

  She’s about to say something, and I’m desperate for it to be the words I want to hear, but instead a loud growling noise fills the cabana, and she presses a hand over her stomach.

  “Oh God,” she groans. “Sorry. I haven’t eaten anything since the airport.”

  I laugh softly and kiss her gently on the lips, then move away so that I can pull the basket of food out from under the platform. Evita did a great job. There’s wine, fruit and cheese and a loaf of bread, containers with salads and a cold roast chicken. I smile when I see the little pink box full of chocolates that I know Evita put in there for me to give to Hartley later. I pull everything out and lay it on the small table next to where we’re sitting and turn to ask her what she’d like.

  “A romantic candlelit picnic?” she cries when she sees the food. “What are you trying to do to me? Ruin me for life?”

  I pass her a plate and have to laugh when I see the stunned look on her face.

  “That’s the plan, kid.”

  We eat and drink and when we’re finished we pile up the cushions and lie down side by side. The ocean laps against the jetty underneath us and through the netting we can see the stars, so much brighter out here away from streetlights and headlights and the soft glow of houses.

  Now that we’re in a cubby house again the atmosphere feels ripe for revelations.

  “How long were you with David for?” I ask her, and I’m careful to speak of their relationship in the past tense. Because I hope it is.

  “Four years,” she says quietly. “I met him when he started as an intern at work. He must have caught my parents’ eye because suddenly he was at every Sunday brunch and weekend away at the lake house.”
>
  “Did you have many boyfriends before him?”

  She sighs and looks over at me on the cushions.

  “No. He was my first proper boyfriend. I kissed a couple of guys in college, and there was this one guy who worked in a bookstore in town that I liked. But I knew my parents would never approve of him, so I broke it off, even though he was pretty great.”

  “Does that mean David was your first?” I say quietly, rolling on my side and propping up my head with my hand. She nods.

  “Does that mean David is your only?”

  She doesn’t say anything for a moment and then nods slowly. Jesus.

  “Was Jessie your first?”

  I guess I should have expected that, after what I’ve just asked her. But it still feels like someone is pressing on the bruised spot on my heart when I hear it.

  “Yeah. We were together since we were twelve, so it was kind of inevitable I guess. We waited until we were both sixteen, and it happened one night when my Mom and Dad were away. Psych ward for her, rehab for him,” I add quietly. Not that it helped either of them.

  “What was it like?” she says, and I smile suddenly at the memory.

  “That good, huh?”

  I look into her eyes and shake my head.

  “No, not even close. We figured out what to do alright, but afterwards, well, she cried.”

  “Uh, oh,” Hartley says, and I can see she’s trying not to laugh. “What did you do to her?”

  “Nothing like that,” I laugh and then suddenly it’s not funny anymore. “She cried because she said she was happy.”

  Hartley takes a deep breath and leans over to kiss me softly on the mouth.

  “What was your first time like then?” I ask, and as soon as I’ve said it, I realize I don’t want to know.