by Julie Cohen
‘Saul Feinberg.’
‘Mr Feinberg, it’s Zoe again. Where’s this house in Southwest Harbour and how do I get into it?’
The lawyer laughed for a long time. ‘Why don’t you come to the office now, Zoe, and we’ll sort it out for you.’
‘Great.’ She hung up, and looked at Nick. He still hadn’t moved. She couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking. ‘We need to go to the lawyer’s. I assume he can give me the keys.’
Nick didn’t say anything.
‘What?’ Zoe asked.
‘Five minutes ago we were having an argument. And now you say you’re coming to Maine with me. It feels like we’ve skipped a step or two here.’
Yeah, like the step where Zoe stopped and thought about what the hell she was doing throwing herself right back into the fire with Nick.
But she wasn’t going to think about that yet. She’d been in pain, and now she wasn’t, and that was enough for right now.
‘It’s no big deal, Nick. I want to see my great-aunt’s house. And I want you to find your father. We can kill two birds with one stone.’
The pigeon chose that moment to start cooing in the box Nick held, and Zoe regretted her metaphor. Nick didn’t seem to notice. He was watching her closely.
‘Is there anything else you want to do?’ he asked.
Zoe drew in a deep breath. She wanted to grab him by the collar of his T-shirt, march him back upstairs to the apartment, and have sex with him until neither of them could move, but that topic was off limits.
And besides, she wanted something more than that. She wanted not to have hurt him.
‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I apologise for saying you were like your dad. You’re not. You’re a good guy, Nick. I haven’t known you for long, but I know that.’
He nodded. ‘Thank you.’
‘No problem. Come on, let’s go to the lawyer’s.’
Nick still didn’t shift. ‘Don’t you think there’s something else we should talk about?’
He meant the whole sex-until-neither-of-them-could-move thing. Zoe wasn’t going there.
‘I’m sorry for kicking out the pigeon, too. Can we go?’
Finally, he smiled. It was as heartlifting as the sun breaking through clouds. ‘That’ll do for now,’ he said, and they started down the sidewalk together.
‘You drove all the way down here from Maine in that?’
‘Sure did.’ Nick opened the tailgate of his truck and slid his backpack into the capped-in bed. He held his hand out for Zoe’s bag and wasn’t surprised when she stepped past him and loaded it in herself.
‘Wow, you’re braver than I thought.’ She stepped back and surveyed his truck, grinning broadly as she took in the mud splashes, the dents, the scratches in the paintwork. ‘And I thought New York traffic was murder on cars.’
Nick laughed. Ever since she’d found out about her great-aunt’s place in Maine, Zoe had been in an incredibly good mood. She’d been smiling, laughing, joking, teasing him, even whistling as they’d walked from the apartment to the parking garage where he’d left his truck for the past several days. She had a great whistle: tuneful, mellow, the sound of careless cheer.
He wasn’t exactly sure why she’d gone from arguing with him to helping him. Or why she’d gone from angry to happy. He did know why she’d picked a fight with him in the first place—as soon as he’d left the apartment building he’d realised that Zoe had been trying to push him away, in exactly the same way he’d seen her use with her family.
Not that that made it any better. He didn’t like being pushed away. But it made her apology easy to accept, and it made him glad to see her happy.
‘This truck has seen me through mudslides, snowstorms, and washed-out roads,’ he said. ‘It’s been charged by moose twice and it’s carried an entire flock of oil-slicked puffins. A little New York traffic ain’t nothin’.’
He reached into the back and wrestled out a medium-sized animal carrier. It was big for a pigeon, but it would have to do.
The pigeon tried to dodge his hands when he lifted it out of the cardboard box. It was a good sign. He carefully transferred it into the animal carrier, making sure the floor would be comfortable for its injured feet.
‘Will he be okay in there?’ To his surprise, Zoe was watching over his shoulder.
‘Fine.’ He wired up the water bottle. ‘This carrier is designed to transport animals.’
‘Yeah, but won’t the truck bother him? The noise and the shaking and stuff?’
‘If it were a loon from the wilds of Oquossoc, I would be worried. This is a New York pigeon. It’s lived within inches of traffic all its life. I don’t think a cushioned trip in the back of a truck is going to faze it much.’ He fastened the door, then shut up the tailgate, and turned to Zoe. ‘Anyway, since when do you care about vermin?’
She unfurrowed her brow, removing all expression of concern, and shrugged. ‘I’m just being humane, that’s all. I mean, I’d hate for all your hard rescue work to be for nothing.’
Nick had to stop himself from hugging her. The tough front, the soft inside. He’d never met anybody like her in his life.
‘So, let’s get going,’ she said, and held out her hand. ‘Give me the keys.’
‘You want to drive my truck?’
‘Yes.’
‘I thought you said it was a wreck.’
‘That was until I learned it could withstand moose.’ She wiggled her fingers, gesturing for the keys.
‘You ever driven a truck before?’
Zoe put her hands on her hips. ‘Listen, Nick, it’s your choice. You want to deal with New York traffic? Or do you want the girl who drives a cab for a living to do it?’
‘Good point.’ He tossed her the keys. She caught them on her finger and grinned.
‘I’ll take you on the scenic route,’ she said. ‘Give you a few good memories of the place.’
Nick watched as she practically skipped to the cab, unlocked the door, and climbed in. She had to step up pretty far, and the movement displayed her legs and bottom to perfection. She looked back at him and winked before she shut the door.
How had this happened? he wondered as he walked around to the passenger door. How had Zoe gone in his perception from just some woman, to a sexy woman, to the sexiest woman he had ever met in his life? So sexy he’d broken his own better judgement and touched her even though he couldn’t stay with her? So sexy he was seriously doubting his own ability to sit in the enclosed cab of a truck with her and keep his hands to himself?
She leaned over to unlock the passenger door and he did his best not to stare at her cleavage through the window.
‘The clutch is a little bit tricky,’ he said to her as he climbed in and buckled his seat belt.
‘No problem.’ She turned the key in the ignition.
‘I mean it—I’ve fixed it a million times and it still sticks. You’ve got to—’
‘No problem,’ she repeated, put the truck in gear, and drove smoothly off down the parking lot ramp.
She was good. He relaxed into his seat and watched her smiling.
‘Do you really drive this wreck around everywhere?’ she asked. ‘How do you ever get girlfriends?’
‘I have a Harley for fun. And any girl I was interested in would have to see past the truck to my other fine qualities.’
‘Hmm,’ Zoe said. Nick paid for the parking and Zoe pulled out into traffic with deft certainty.
‘How long have you been driving a cab?’ he asked.
‘About five years. I’m thinking about cutting it down, doing more on the fitness side. Personal training, some coaching, stuff like that. You have to deal with fewer weirdos.’
She dug a packet of throat lozenges out of the pocket of her sweatshirt and popped one in her mouth. ‘Anyway, enough about my job, let’s look at NewYork. On the right is the Dakota, which is where John Lennon lived and was murdered.’
‘Rosemary’s Baby was shot there,’ Nick said.
&nbs
p; ‘Yeah, how’d you know that?’
‘My sister’s husband owns a cinema in Portland. He’s obsessed with the movies.’ He glanced at the peaked-roofed brick building with its balconies and railings, and then his eyes were drawn back to Zoe. ‘You’re a great fitness instructor. I mean, I sucked and even I learned something.’
‘You weren’t that bad.’ She gestured through the windshield. ‘Here we are in Columbus Circle, coming onto Broadway, and there’s a deli down there that does the best pastrami sandwiches you will ever have in your life.’
‘Not that bad, huh? Are you talking about the exercising, or the kissing?’
A blush tinged her fair skin. It was incredibly feminine, and Nick couldn’t take his eyes off it. ‘Exercising. See that doorway?’ From the hasty way she spoke, he could tell she was changing the subject deliberately. ‘On a cold night, it’s one of the warmest places outside in the neighbourhood. Hot air vents nearby.’
‘Why do you know that?’
‘Oh.’ She sucked on her lozenge for a moment before she answered. Nick could see the exact moment she decided to trust him with an answer.
‘I ran away from home when I was sixteen.’
‘And you ended up sleeping on the streets of New York?’
‘I didn’t mean to. I meant to go stay with Xenia, but of course I didn’t call her first and she wasn’t at home. So I just hung around New York for a couple weeks.’
‘On your own? At sixteen?’ All of his protective instincts flared up.
‘It was an education.’ She shot him a crooked smile, and held out her right hand where she wore a silver ring on her thumb. ‘See this ring? On my second night I found it about a block east of here, kicked into a corner. I’ve worn it ever since.’
The ring was battered and scratched, no longer round. Nick had noticed it before. ‘You wanted a reminder of being a runaway?’
‘I wanted a reminder of the fact that I can take care of myself.’
Nick pictured Zoe at sixteen, skinny, tough, and vulnerable. He pictured her curling up in the doorway she’d pointed out to him, a young kid in faded jeans and sneakers and a jacket that was too big for her, her golden hair tender and soft against the rough stone of the building.
He didn’t like the picture.
‘Why did you run away from home?’
She shrugged. He was beginning to understand that with Zoe the gesture meant exactly the opposite of what it was supposed to mean.
‘I overheard my parents talking about me. I didn’t like what I heard. So I left.’
Her voice had been rough since it had come back. Throaty and lower than usual—to Nick, it was incredibly sexy. With these words, it broke. Zoe fumbled out another lozenge and put it in her mouth, still manoeuvring the truck expertly through traffic.
He could imagine what she wasn’t saying. How what she had heard had hurt her; how much it still hurt her. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold the girl she had once been, the woman she had become.
‘What made you go home?’ he asked.
‘Xenia. I went by her apartment every day, to see if she’d come back, and one day she had. She didn’t ask any questions. She cleaned me up and took me out for a meal. I stayed with her overnight and then I went home. She didn’t say anything. I just felt more like I could go home after I saw her.’
‘I bet she knew,’ Nick said.
‘Now, I think she probably did.’ Zoe pointed out the windshield again. ‘A couple blocks down there is Radio City Music Hall and the Rockefeller Centre, and in a minute we’re going to be driving into Times Square.’
Nick couldn’t have cared less about the sights. All he was looking at was Zoe. ‘What was living on the streets like?’
‘It was scary. There were a lot of weirdos and perverts and a lot of people on drugs. But it was exhilarating at the same time, you know? There were no rules. I think I needed to prove to myself that I could do whatever I wanted.’
Nick nodded. ‘I know what you mean about needing to prove things to yourself. You were right about my trying to prove I’m not like my dad. I do genuinely like animals and care about the environment. But I was trying to prove I was responsible.’
Zoe didn’t answer for a few moments and, although Nick wanted to watch her, he looked out the window, finally seeing all the buildings and the lights and the cars and the people. There was something about her that made him feel she needed a little space, just for now.
‘You were right, too,’ she said quietly. ‘I push people away. It’s easier. Here’s the Lincoln Tunnel under the Hudson.’
He kept on looking out the window, at the brick arches of the tunnel as they entered it, and then at the glossy tiled walls as they drove through it, the sound of traffic echoing in the enclosed space. For the moment, she’d stopped pushing him away. He could stop pushing, too.
It wasn’t a mystery why he was so attracted to her, he thought. At first he’d compared her to his usual type of woman. He’d always liked delicate women, ones who were overtly feminine, ones who liked being protected and taken care of, having doors opened, being listened to, being helped. He liked taking care of them; he liked feeling strong and reliable.
And yet he had to admit that his past relationships had failed because being strong and reliable wasn’t enough for him. After a while, he wanted more than being relied on. He wanted something back. Some excitement, some passion. Some of the same thing he felt when he was in the forest surrounded by plants eating sunlight and drinking rootwater, by animals busy living. He wanted that connection as deep as his soul.
And, yeah, he’d avoided relationships recently because he was scared, deep down, that he was like his dad, leaving when the going got too tough.
He glanced at Zoe. She was watching the traffic, both her hands on the wheel. The silver ring on her thumb gleamed in the sunlight. It was a reminder that she could take care of herself.
There was the answer to how he felt about her. He wasn’t attracted to her despite her difference to his usual girlfriends; he was attracted to her because of her difference.
And he was so attracted to her that he was in danger of losing his mind to the influence of his gonads. In the small space of the cab, he breathed in her scent. They’d both changed out of their sweaty T-shirts but he could still smell the warmth of her skin. And she still wore her exercise shorts. His gaze dropped to the smooth skin of her thighs and he couldn’t help imagining her wrapping her legs around his hips, clasping him closer, welcoming him inside her.
When he’d kissed her, she’d reacted with a passion he’d never experienced before. Her body wasn’t only toned, it was responsive. And strong. Like the rest of her.
‘So long Manhattan!’ Zoe cried, and Nick looked up to see they were coming out of the tunnel. She was smiling again. Knowing her, she’d decided she’d had enough serious stuff for one day.
‘You got any music in this wreck?’ she asked, pulling a tape out of the deck and glancing at it. Her smile widened into a full-fledged grin. ‘AC/DC? Ranger Giroux, you appear to rock!’
‘It keeps me awake,’ he said, and took the tape from her. He couldn’t resist touching her fingers as he did. Then he put the tape into the player and turned the volume up, loud.
Zoe whooped as soon as the thumping bassline started. With quick jabs she rolled down the window and sang, her sore throat forgotten, her pensive mood gone, her past hurts and troubles put away as she told the New York they were leaving that she and Nick were on a highway to hell.
Nick laughed, and sang along with her.
‘Roll down your window,’ Nick said from the driver’s seat.
Zoe opened her eyes. She hadn’t quite drifted off, but the steady noise of the truck’s engine and the darkness outside her window had lulled her into drowsiness. It was a long trip from New York to Maine, and they’d started pretty late in the afternoon. Nick had taken over driving somewhere in the morass of construction that was Connecticut and as they had made their way throug
h Massachusetts and New Hampshire their conversation had faded to a comfortable silence. With her eyes closed, she’d let herself relax into the warmth of sitting next to Nick, and time had slipped away from her.
‘Where are we?’ she asked.
‘Roll down your window and you’ll find out.’
She couldn’t see anything outside; the interstate was lit up, but their surroundings were black. The sky was much darker than it ever got in New York. She rolled down her window and Nick did the same.
‘Now breathe,’ he said.
She drew in a long, deep breath. The air was as cool as spring water. Carried on it was the scent and the taste of pine. Not like what counted for pine scent in air fresheners or cleaners; it was green and fresh and alive and it made her think of vast spaces, quiet woods, age and vitality.
Nick carried that scent with him.
‘We’re in Maine,’ she said.
Nick let out his own breath and nodded. His face was lit up softly by the dash lights, emphasising his high cheekbones and straight nose, and the shadow of beard on his jaw. ‘Not far from Kittery,’ he said. He breathed in again. ‘It’s good to be home.’
Zoe sniffed in again and opened her mouth to say something smart about missing the traffic fumes, but there was a sudden bang and the truck jerked sharply to the left. She hung on hard to the armrest on the door as Nick wrestled the steering wheel, the truck swerving and squealing.
‘Blow-out,’ he muttered, and swore, but within seconds he’d gotten the truck under control and pulled it slowly onto the right shoulder.
‘You okay?’ he asked her immediately. Zoe unwrapped her hand from the armrest.
‘Fine,’ Zoe said. ‘You?’
‘Yeah.’ He turned off the ignition.
‘You think the bird’s okay?’
‘I’ll check.’
Nick took a flashlight from the glove compartment and they both got out of the truck. Nick went to the back to check out the pigeon; Zoe went around the side to inspect the damage. The night air was cold and, glancing up, Zoe saw she’d been wrong. The sky wasn’t darker than in NewYork. It was absolutely jam-packed with stars.
