Under the Oak Tree

by Victoria Ashlee

  “I’m home.” He announced as he walked through the screen door. It slammed behind him.

  “In the kitchen,” His father called out.

  Clay walked through the living room to the kitchen, setting the to-go bags on the counter, “Here’s your food.”

  His father opened the bag, “What took you so long? You can’t let an old man starve.”

  Clay laughed, “You only told me you wanted something when I was on the way home. Now my food is cold, and yours is hot.”

  His father smirked, “Ah, but you take care of me.”

  “Some days I wonder why,” Clay popped open his to-go box, and took a seat next to his father on a stool. “I ran into Claire Cunningham while I was there.”

  “Kevin Cunningham’s daughter? I didn’t know you knew her.”

  “I don’t.” Clay started cutting his burger in half. “She forgot her keys. I think I scared her.”

  “Why do you think you scared her?”

  “Waitress asked me to run them out to her. She looked like she had seen a ghost when I handed them to her.”

  His father took the knife from him, and started to cut his own burger, “Maybe she was just surprised.”

  “Maybe. It doesn’t matter.” Clay popped a fry into his mouth. “How was business today?”

  “It was fine, the usual. I finished up on Mrs. Jacob’s table, and the Smith’s kid dropped off a check to final out their invoice.”

  “That’s good. We need the money.” Clay picked up his burger. “The library wants me to look at some repairs they need this week.”

  His father laughed, “You could use some knowledge from those books.”

  Clay rolled his eyes, “I don’t want to hear it.”

  “Your mother helped set up…”

  “She’s not here, Pop. Is she?” Clay said firmly, not looking up from his food.

  “No. She’s not.” His father’s voice was deflated.

  “Then let’s not bring her up.”

  “You can’t avoid that topic forever. It’s been ten years.”

  “There’s no topic. She’s gone. We’re fine.”

  His father sighed, “I just don’t want you to harbor something that isn’t yours to carry. I want one day for you to find someone, but you use the past to push people away. I won’t be here forever.”

  Clay looked over at his father, “Don’t talk like that.”

  His father ignored him, “Natasha is a nice girl, or what about Claire Cunningham?”

  “Claire?” Clay laughed. “Someone like Claire is too clean for someone like me.”

  “And who is someone like you? You work hard, you're intelligent. What’s wrong with you?”

  Clay shook his head with another small laugh, “You don’t get it. Even if I wanted Claire, she’s dinner parties and tea times. I’m dirt on my hands, and a beer with you. Our worlds don’t mix.”

  “Sometimes when two worlds collide, a new one begins.”

  Clay stared at his father, “Are you a poet now?”

  “No. I read, which is what you should do when you pick up the library account.”

  Clay stood, picking up his trash, “Working on the library isn’t going to change my mind.”

  “Stubborn boy,” His father took a bite of his sandwich.

  “Learned it from you,” He made his way toward the refrigerator, and grabbed a beer. “I’m heading home. I feel like walking tonight. I’ll pick my truck up in the morning.”

  “Goodnight, Son.” Clay’s father nodded at him.

  The night’s sky was speckled with stars. Not a cloud even dared to block the show. He popped the beer open, and started making his way down the canopy driveway toward his house. He always thought of his father as a smart man, and for the past few years, he’s been bringing up the topic of Clay finding someone. He didn’t really feel like he needed anything or anyone. He knew his father was just concerned about what would happen after he was gone, but he didn’t like to think of it like that.

  When he got to his house, he sat down on the front steps, and took a swig of his beer. He looked up at the stars; he started to replay in his mind his encounter with Claire. She smelled of honey when he walked past her at the restaurant. The scent was enough to draw any man in. The image of her staring back at him was tattooed on his mind; She was small framed, her long blonde hair draped over her shoulders, she wore a blue shirt that matched her eyes, and jeans that hugged her hips. He didn’t know at first if she was afraid of him, but when she asked his name, it took him by surprise.

  Clay finished his beer, and made his way into his house. The house was one room. His bed was situated in front of the large window off to the right, white sheer curtains hung on each side. The kitchen was on the opposite wall, and the door to the bathroom was in the corner of the room. He sat down on the loveseat that was off to the left, and took off his shoes. He left the empty beer bottle on the coffee table, and made his way to bed, stripping down into his boxers. The moon light came through his window, landing on his bed. He stared at the ceiling, avoiding sleep like most nights. His dark memories always returned when he slept. So, he didn’t, as long as he could.

  *

  The next morning, he woke to a bang on his door. He sat up, walking over to answer it. When he opened it, his father was standing on the other side of the screen door.

  “Yes?” Clay asked, as he stretched his arms over his head.

  “I have a job for you today. It’s a rush order.”

  Clay opened the screen door, “What time is it?”

  “It’s 7AM. Why were you still asleep, you never sleep this late.”

  “Took me a while to fall asleep.” Clay turned to walk back inside.

  His father followed him, “Get showered, and dressed.”

  “What’s the job?” Clay asked, while he started to make coffee.”

  “You need to tear down, and build a fence by Thursday.”

  Clay leaned on the counter, “Seriously? That’s two days from now. I don’t even have the wood.”

  “That’s why you're starting early.”

  “Who’s it for?” Clay turned to pour coffee into a mug.

  “Kevin Cunningham.”

  Clay looked over his shoulder at his dad, “You’re joking.”

  “Not even a little. He’s paying double too, since it’s a rush job.”

  Clay turned to face him, “You knew about this last night. Is that why you brought up Claire?”

  “Nope. Got the call this morning.”

  He eyed his father as he walked past him toward the bathroom. “Leave the details on the counter, I need to shower.”

  “It’s all right here.” His father set the paperwork on the table. “You need to be there by 9.”

  “I’ll be there at 8:30.” Clay walked into the bathroom. “I’ll see you for dinner.” He called out.

  “Bye, Son.” His father made his way toward the front door.

  *

  An hour and a half later, Clay found himself parked in front of the Cunningham’s house. He stared at the two story white home. It had black shutters, with a matching black front door. He looked up at the second floor, wondering which room was Claire’s. He couldn’t let his thoughts go there. This was work, and she was Claire.

  He hopped out of his truck, and started toward the front doors. Just before he reached the steps, the front door swung open. The long blonde hair that he remembered from yesterday was walking backwards through the doors.

  “I’m going to meet Jenny.” Claire called out. When she finally turned to face him, she froze on the spot, almost tripping over her own feet. That same deer in headlights look returned from last night. She clutched her keys in her hands. His eyes involuntarily traveled up her body starting at her legs. She was wearing white converse, denim shorts that sat high on her waist, and a yellow top. Her tan skin peeked through between the shorts and top. His dick twitched. He couldn’t control it if he tried.

  “What are you doing here?”
She breathlessly choked out.

  “I’m…”

  “Here to see me.” Kevin Cunningham stepped around his daughter, extending his hand. “I heard you were the best in town, and we have a mess that needs to be dealt with.” Kevin gestured to the fence that looked like someone had run into it.

  Clay shook his hand, “Yes sir. We do our best.” His eyes glanced at Claire, then back to Kevin. “You need it done by Thursday?”

  Kevin caught Clay’s glance, and turned to Claire, “Honey, why don’t you run along to meet Jenny. You don’t want to get in Mr. Williams' way today.”

  She stared at her dad, “I already told you that’s where I’m going.”

  “Then go.” He said firmly.

  Clay stood uncomfortable, as Claire slowly walked towards her car. She glanced back at him, her father watching her until she pulled out of the driveway. Kevin turned back to Clay, “Now where were we?”

  “The fence.”

  Kevin put his hand on Clay’s shoulder, and turned him to walk with him toward the fence. Kevin went over the details of what he wanted done, and what time on Thursday that he needed it done by. Clay nodded, and took mental notes.

  Just before Kevin walked away, he stopped, turning on his heels, “One more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “My Daughter is off limits. If you lay a finger on her, I will make sure you never work in the town again.”

  Clay clenched his jaw. He hated this kind of man. The kind who think they own everything, and control everyone. “I’m here to do a job, nothing else.” He finally replied.

  Kevin’s hard face broke into a fake smile, “Good. I’m glad we have an understanding.”

  *

  Three hours later Clay was well into digging up the current fence. It was clear someone had run into it with their car. He didn’t ask questions though. The June sun was doing it’s best to set the world on fire with the heat levels. His shirt was soaked in sweat, dirt had found its way to his face. Kevin had left an hour ago for a meeting; he informed Clay that his wife would be home if he needed anything.

  Clay paused what he was doing when he saw Claire’s blue SUV pull into the driveway. She hopped out of the car, her eyes instantly finding his. He quickly broke his eye contact, and continued his job. Her father was right about one thing, she was a distraction. Clay glanced up when the front door shut.

  Ten minutes later the door opened again, he had moved further down the yard. Clay didn’t look up this time; he was messing with a pesky board that wouldn’t come loose.

  “Hey,” Claire’s soft voice appeared behind him.

  He looked over his shoulder, and stood up, “You shouldn’t be out here.”

  She put her right hand on her hip, the other was holding a glass of water, “Says who? My father?”

  “That’s exactly who.”

  “I don’t listen to him.”

  Clay raised an eyebrow, “Don’t you though?”

  “I thought you might be thirsty.” She held the glass of water out for him, ignoring his comment.

  “Thank you.” He lifted his shirt, wiping his mouth, and reached to take the glass. Her eyes shot down to his stomach, causing her hand to falter, when he took the glass. He smirked, when she swiftly pulled her hand back, her face turning a sweet shade of pink.

  “Do you offer every man that works on your house water?”

  “No...I mean…”

  Clay laughed. “It’s fine.” He finished off the glass, handed it back to her.

  “My father was trying to make a point earlier when he called you Mr. Williams.”

  “What point is that?”

  “He was trying to make me small, and you much older than me.”

  Clay studied her for a second, “Don’t ever feel small. With a smile like yours, you’ll live a big life.”

  Her cheeks went from the shy pink to a blushing red, “Thanks.” She swooped her hair behind her ear, “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.” His eyes glanced down to her chest; sweat was dripping down into her cleavage. He knew he needed to end this conversation, but she intrigued him.

  “Have you always done what you’ve been told?”

  Her question caught him off guard, he wasn’t sure if she was baiting him. “You Claire Cunningham are dancing on dangerous grounds with that question.”

  “Why do you say that?” Her hands clutched the glass tightly.

  “Because, I don’t think you can handle the answer.”

  Silence fell between the two of them, but the air was electricity. Her icy blue eyes stayed on him. Clay could feel it, but he refused to admit it, “I need to get back to work.”

  “Oh ok. Well I’ll be inside if you need anything.” She gave him a small smile, and turned to walk away.

  “Claire,” Clay called after her.

  She turned, her innocent eyes made him pause from what he was about to say. His better judgment won. “Your father threatened to fire me if I came near you. I think it’s best if we keep our distance.”

  She cocked her head, “I guess I’ll find out the answer then after all.”

  “To what?”

  “If you always do what you're told.” She smiled. “See you around.”

  For once he was at a loss for words. She had stolen every single one of them. The only problem was that her life was preplanned, and he was not part of her story.

  Chapter Three

  Claire

  Claire walked back into her house; the air hitting her like an arctic wind. She leaned against the large wooden door once it shut, resting her head against the glass. She didn’t know what had just come over her. Her body was buzzing with emotions. When he had lifted his shirt, it was like she had lost all brain function. No one had ever done that to her before. She imagined what his body felt like against hers.

  “Claire, honey…” Her Mom called out, coming around the corner.

  Claire jumped as if she was doing something wrong; the glass fell from her hands, shattering on the hardwood floor.

  “Are you ok?” Her Mom rushed over, “Don’t move. I’ll get the broom.”

  “It’s fine. I’ll clean it up.” Claire hopped over the glass.

  Her Mom watched her, “What were you doing?”

  Claire looked at the front door, and then back to her Mom, “I took water out to Clay.”

  “Who’s Clay?”

  “The guy fixing our fence.”

  “Oh.” Her Mom looked at the door. “Your father doesn’t want you around him. Don’t go back out there.”

  Claire huffed, “Not you too.”

  “He’s just looking out for you. I’ve heard rumors about that boy, he’s nothing but trouble.”

  Claire glared at her Mom, and walked toward the kitchen, “You and Dad think you know everything.”

  Her Mom followed, “Call it experience. I don’t want him hurting you.”

  “Don’t worry, Jason will protect me.” Claire said sarcastically.

  Her Mom caught her shoulders, and made Claire face her, “What’s gotten into you?”

  “Nothing. I’m fine.” She wiggled out of her Mom’s grasp, and grabbed the broom and dust pan.

  “Are you and Jason fighting? Is this about last night?”

  “No.” Claire continued to the shattered glass.

  “Then is it this Clay working on our house?”

  “What? No.” She shot her Mom a look. “I don’t even know him. Stop prying. I dropped a glass; it’s not a national treasure hunt.”

  Her Mom’s shoulders relaxed, “If you say so. I’m just worried.”

  Claire stood with the glass in the dust pan, “Why are you worried?”

  “You told me you weren’t excited about your engagement.” She brushed Claire’s hair behind her shoulder, “I just want to make sure you’re happy.”

  “I’m happy, Mom. It’s just a lot of change. The picture perfect wedding is still taking place.”

  Her Mom smiled, “Good, because I’ve
been looking at locations, and I think the country club is the perfect location.”

  “Sounds great,” Claire forced a smile, and walked into the kitchen to dump the glass.

  Her Mom continued on about her ideas for the wedding. Claire tuned her out. She put the broom and pan back, and then turned to her Mom, “I’m tired. I’m going to go take a nap.”

  “Ok.” Her Mom didn’t glance up from the wedding magazine she had been flipping through.

  When Claire got to her room, she hopped on her bed, and looked out the window. Clay was still hard at work; the sun glistening off of his sweaty tan skin. His muscles flexed when he pulled the wood apart. Claire bit her bottom lip. He had control of her, and she wasn’t trying to break free. She couldn’t help her thoughts from returning to imagining his body against hers. She was on top of him; his hands ran through her hair. She fell back on her bed from the sight she was picturing. Claire was a virgin, but that didn’t mean she had never explored her body. Her hand found its way into her shorts, she gasped from her own touch, the thought of Clay ignited a spark inside of her that was about to start a forest fire.

  *

  That night Claire sat at their dinner table with Jason and her parents. Jason attended dinner often at the Cunningham’s. It made it simple since he lived next door. She smiled up at Jason, forcing potatoes onto her fork. She had regret from pleasing herself to the image of Clay this afternoon. She wasn’t supposed to feel like this, but all she could do was think of him.

  “Jason, when do you start at the firm?” Her father asked. Jason was just out of Law School. The same Law School that Claire had just finished her first year at.

  “Next week.” Jason wiped his mouth with the white cloth napkin that had been set out.

  “Are you ready?” Her father asked firmly.