That's the Way I Loved You

by Carrie Aarons

  And so I come here now. When nothing feels solid under my feet, I know it’s where I need to go. My life is in upheaval, nothing I thought would hold true is really doing so, and I don’t feel like addressing it. Shedding my jeans and shoes, I leave my cell phone and keys on top of the pile on shore.

  The minute the water hits my ankles, I’m overcome with this intense feeling of peace. I think my parents might be here with me right now, in this spot, looking over me. My head sinks under and I swim, stroking through the water as a distraction to every problem plaguing me. I dive down, trying to touch the bottom, but fail and scurry back up.

  When I break the surface, the sun sparkles in my eyes, and I take lungfuls of breath. There is no noise out here except for the birds high up in the trees, and it’s the quietest place I’ve been in many years.

  “Didn’t anyone ever tell you, you’re not supposed to swim alone?” Jason’s voice comes from the dock.

  “I think you remember how good of a swimmer I am. I’d save myself,” I tell him, no malice in my voice.

  As I float on my back, wet T-shirt sticking to my breasts and my underwear in full view of him to see, I no longer care. Even though the root of all my problems is standing on the shores, the water is keeping me at peace right now. I’m not going to let the anger or sadness in.

  “Do you have some sixth sense about when I’m at this house?” I ask, because it’s happened so many times now.

  I hear a quiet lapping of water and assume that he’s sitting with his feet off the dock. We used to do this a lot, me swimming and him watching.

  “I haven’t been out in a few days, wanted to come see if a bear had decimated it or not.”

  That makes me laugh. “Why the heck, after ten years of this craphole still impossibly standing, would a bear come out and knock it down after we actually put some work into it?”

  Jason fires back with quick wit. “It’s all that vanilla perfume you wear. They can probably smell it from a mile away, come running thinking some idiots left cookies or ice cream out.”

  “Ah, so now these bears have a sweet tooth and a penchant for womanly fragrances?”

  “It’s not up to me what those bears decide to like.”

  We both chuckle over the ridiculous conversation, and I finally bob upright, looking at him. He’s in khaki shorts and a plain white T-shirt, the muscles of his biceps and pecs straining against the material. There are dirt streaks on it, and one down his right cheek. His midnight-black hair is tousled, like he’s been pulling at it all day.

  And Jesus, does he look good enough to eat. The kiss we shared lingers between us, neither of us daring to pick up that hot potato. Slowly, Jason takes the hem of his shirt and slides it up, each inch of skin revealed burning in my memory. It’s agonizing and forbidden, I shouldn’t be looking and he shouldn’t be doing this.

  Yet, here we are.

  After he’s done, he sets aside the items in his pockets, and then slides into the water. It’s like a commercial for something vague; cologne or fast cars or hair gel. Unnecessarily sexy, and yet you want to know what the advertisement is selling.

  Jason sinks under, and then comes up, wiping water from his perfect bone structure.

  “Remember when you thought there was an eel in here?” He grins.

  And now that he says it, I squirm, swimming in circles. “I swear, I felt it shock me.”

  “It was definitely just a piece of seaweed.” That devilish smile is too close, swimming circles around me like a shark.

  It occurs to me that in the time I’ve been back in Hale, we haven’t had one conversation that isn’t laced with tension or us screaming at each other.

  “Has time been kind to you, Jason?” I ask, genuinely curious.

  He looks surprised. “What?”

  “Do you like your life? Are you happy?” As much as I hate him for what went down all those years ago, I … I’ve never wanted him to suffer.

  That gorgeous face tilts to the side as he treads water.

  “Yeah, I guess I am happy. As happy as a guy could be in my position. My life is better than it was when I was growing up; I’m not waiting around for a family that doesn’t want me or have the drama of where I’m getting my next meal. I have friends who care about me, a house, a job. It’s not what I thought I’d be doing, but I try not to wonder what life would have looked like now if I hadn’t gotten hurt. One lesson I’ve learned very well is not to dwell too much on what didn’t happen. Well, in some cases.”

  His words echo in my head. You don’t love him, don’t you feel this?

  Of course, I felt it. I still feel it. Not feeling the attraction, the chemistry, the love between us? You’d have to be a robot, or a cyborg, or something like one of those science fiction plots that Donna is always trying to shove at me. They have no business on a medical show, and I have no business exploring the very real feelings that still exist between Jason and me.

  But if that was a lesson he hadn’t learned when it came to us, I had to admit I hadn’t either. There were nights, more than I’d like to own up to, where I’d lie awake and wonder if this was it. If Perry and New York were what my destiny held. And then my mind would wander back to the rolling plains of Texas and Jason. I’d envision what our life would have been, how old our kids would be. I pictured us sitting in Adirondack chairs on the front porch, sipping lemonade as the sun went down. Getting bit to hell by mosquitos and then running inside to make love as the rain rattled our tin roof. In my fantasies, we still lived in that shack back there, even in old age.

  “Generally, though. I’m content. Life could always be worse, and I know that from experience.” Jason swims closer, and I wade back. “How about you, Savvy? Are you happy? Has time been kind?”

  My stomach muscles burn from treading water so long, so I float, letting him openly stare at my half-naked body.

  “I am. I found a life I never even thought about. Not that I didn’t think was possible, I just truly never imagined there were things like what I have in this world. I’m doing what I love to do as a job, and not many people can say that. I have a good life, I can provide for myself. I have friends, and I’ve gotten to travel the world.”

  Neither of us mention love anywhere in those equations, skirting around the issue like kindergarten children refusing to say sorry.

  “Well, that’s that, then.” He nods, paddling away on his back. “We’re both happy.”

  “Yep,” I say, feeling the huge void in my life that would make it truly happy.

  21

  Jason

  Hauling my toolbox out of the truck, I go inside to see what Savannah has started working on.

  All in all, we’ve finished the drywall and painting, aside from the bathroom. Half of the flooring in the house still needs to be refinished, and I discovered some loose floorboards in the bedroom that’ll have to be replaced. I’ll need to get someone out here for the windows and doors, though I could do it myself. There just isn’t time with the winery officially opening for the season in just a week.

  When I walk in, she’s twirling her wet auburn hair up into a bun, and her half-dry shirt still clings to her curves.

  I’m still fighting my dick on a mental level, trying to think of dead fish and Rudy naked to get the all the blood in my body to stop flowing south. She was floating in that water in nothing but a cotton tee and some lacy underwear … what other reaction does she want from me? It’s a miracle I didn’t grab her in the water and do what we used to do in that lake when no one was watching.

  “I need to order the appliances, and I’ll have curtains brought in once you get the windows fixed.” She ticks them off on her fingers as if referencing a checklist in her head.

  “We’ve been stalled. Hope that didn’t affect your apartment,” I say, though we both know it’s a complete lie.

  She doesn’t look at me. “We lost the apartment today.”

  I try to keep the surprise out of my voice. If they lost it, why is she still here?
“I’m … that sucks.”

  Savannah snorts. “Please, don’t act so sad, Jason. We both know you’re not.”

  Her voice is pure sarcasm, and it makes me smirk. “I never was a good actor.”

  “No, you weren’t. Honestly, though, I’m okay with it. There was too much pressure with that apartment. All of these hoops we had to jump through with the board, the judgmental people who lived in the building … it was a lot of things.”

  She hasn’t brought up her boyfriend once today, and neither of us has addressed the kiss. We’re extremely skilled at avoiding all subjects that could lead to any kind of forgiveness or reconciliation.

  “Well, if you want to just finish up painting the bathroom. And I got curtain rods. You can hang those if you know how to use a drill. I’ll get on the refinisher machine.”

  “I know how to use a drill.” She rolls her eyes. “My daddy was the one who taught you, after I’d already known how to for two years.”

  I grin. “Yeah, but I could also get it with one try. You had to measure, level, re-measure, and then drill it so many times, there would be four holes in the wall before you hung a picture.”

  “Eh, perfection is overrated. It gives the wall some character.” She shrugs, looking so cute and natural that I’m transported back in time.

  Savannah smiles at me, and I smile back. Here we stand, in the house we bought together, grinning like fools. We might have been kids, might have been insane and spontaneous and naive, but we were really in love. I think that’s what everyone, including Savannah, underestimated. Once you fall in love, no matter what age, that never really stopped if it was the one true person you were supposed to be with.

  “So then you’re staying here a while?” I ask, because if the apartment isn’t a top priority, she has nothing to get back to.

  “Well, I mean, I guess so? I’m not actively trying to buy anything in New York right now, and I can do my work from here. I’m actually having a nice time seeing my family again, which is a shock. Plus, getting to know the kids. That’s the best part.”

  “They love having you here,” I confirm. “Noah can’t shut up about it. And I see Adeline at The Whistlestop almost daily, she says Delilah is just mad about you.”

  Savannah actually blushes. “That girl is a spitfire, I absolutely love it. Yeah, no … it’s been surprisingly nice. I feel like I avoided them for so long because of my own fear … of what? Now I wonder what I was so afraid of.”

  “Being around people who knew how much you were hurting, because they hurt that much, too,” I answer the question she wasn’t really posing.

  But instead of getting mad, she just nods. “You’re right. I did, I abandoned them. I thought they wouldn’t understand how much pain I was in, and then a few years went by and it was just easier. To avoid the head-on conversations, to make up for the guilt and the lost time. Now that I’m here, though, I see it isn’t like that.”

  “You Reeses are a pretty cool bunch.” I give her a small smile.

  “I had this vision that they’d be cold and standoffish, from me staying away for so long. I forgot what it’s like here, to be a friend, to be a family. It’s not like in New York, where people are cold and somewhat vicious until you know them for so long that they’re only slightly distant. I’ve missed that you can walk down the street and know everyone’s name. I’ve missed that even if family drives you up a wall, they’ll bring over chicken soup when you’re sick and peach pie when you’re sad. It’s easy to forget what community feels like when you’re caught up in the rush of the city. I didn’t realize how desperately I missed my small town until I was back in it.”

  It’s the most honest and open she’s been with me since she came back. I could get into it all, try to broach the subject of her mom and my injury and us. But today has been a good day. We’ve talked, actually conversed rather than screaming or throwing barbs. I’d rather put on some music, work together in the same space, and cherish the peace for as long as it lasts.

  “It missed you, too,” I tell her.

  We do just that, putting on some old country tunes we listened to in high school, and humming along as we fix up the house we’d never live in together again.

  22

  Jason

  “There have got to be about four hundred people here, man!”

  Beau rushes into the stockroom, his face red and his mustache askew. He looks like he’s been run over by a Mack truck, which is kind of the equivalent of what we’ve done today.

  “You have to get back out there. Take this crate, it’s full of the Malbec that Gina needs.” I shove a wooden box at him.

  “There are investors here, or at least that’s what Nancy told me when she passed by with a tray of bacon wrapped shrimp. She swatted my hand away, but I taste tested, they’re fucking awesome.”

  I scowl. “You’re supposed to be serving wine, not eating my food that is for the guests in the first place.”

  He grunts, the crate almost slipping. “I’ve been on my feet for six hours straight and serving snobby wino’s for about four. I deserve a shrimp here and there.”

  Chuckling, I relent. “Fine. Now go, we got tipsy customers up there.”

  Beau rushes off up the stairs, and I finish cataloging the inventory we have here. This is our small stock room, just off the huge tasting room that looks like the inside of the barn. With how much wine the people who bought tickets to Darling June’s opening weekend have already drank, we’re going to have to make a golf cart drive down to the large stock room on the end of the property.

  I can’t believe how incredible today is going. It’s only the first day—Saturday of the weekend, our doors officially open for the season—and we’ve had a record turnout. During the pre-order, we sold two hundred twenty-dollar tickets. That got them two drink tickets for eight ounce pours, and one round at our buffet. And that buffet … man, I was hankering for it. I hadn’t stood still all day, but I was hoping to sneak in five minutes to eat. There was homemade gouda macaroni and cheese, ribs that had been dry rubbed and smoked for over twenty hours, special garlic pickles, some of Rudy’s pecan coffee cake … it was a regular Texas feast.

  Anyhow, the place was mobbed. Those original two hundred showed up and somehow brought two hundred more with them. Most everyone in the town of Hale was here, along with various people from towns near and far. A couple from California even approached me and told me they’d stumbled upon my winery two years ago and specifically flew here for opening weekend.

  Taking just one moment to bask in the glory, I allow myself a raw, fully uncontrolled smile and whoop. No one can hear me down here, and I deserve it. I’ve worked my tail off these past couple of years, and if this first day means anything, it’s that we’re going to have a great season.

  I am dog-tired, though. Beau is right, we’ve been at it for hours, and I barely slept last night. It’s all worth it, of course, but I could use a glass of wine myself.

  Hurrying back upstairs, I’m hit with the noise and merriment of hundreds of people. We have live bands playing every hour on the hour, activities, and face painting if you wanted to bring your little ones, games of corn hole and horseshoes, as well as tables and benches far out in the grass if you want a quieter, more private afternoon.

  Guests swarm every corner of the property, from the tasting rooms to the gift shop to the rows of vines, and wherever I go, someone is patting me on the back.

  “Jason, this is marvelous!” I turn to see Hope, Noah’s longtime girlfriend, approach me.

  My heart breaks into a sprint, because if Hope is here, it means other members of her family might be here. Which means that Savannah might be here, and up until this point, she’s had no idea that I own what used to be Hale Vineyards.

  Hugging her, I discreetly try to look around. “Thanks, Hope. I put a bottle of Pinot Grigio behind your favorite bar just for you.”

  She swats my arm. “See, that’s why I love this place. Not only is it a fabulous escape from m
y kids, but you memorize everyone’s order. Seriously, you’ve done such an amazing job here.”

  I made it my business to know all the regular visitor’s orders. It made it more personal, and if I’ve learned anything living in Hale, it’s that the more personal you make business, the better it does. Others will disagree, but in my life as a businessman, if the only thing I do is know my customer’s on a personal level, I’ll die happy.

  “Is Noah with you?” I ask, trying not to seem too obvious.

  She shakes her head, and whether she suspects something, she doesn’t let on. “Nope, just here with some of the girls from the church choir. We’re getting too tipsy, have to go make up for it at tomorrow morning’s service.”

  I tip my head. “Tell the priest I say hi. He gives me a pass one day a year, and it’s tomorrow.”

  Hope salutes like some kind of general. “I’m off to find some Pinot.”

  She skips off, and I make my way through the room, schmoozing and smiling the whole way. Typically, I’m not the most accessible, friendly guy, and the winery has been a good way of bringing me out of my shell. Back in my high school days, when I was the star pitcher of the baseball team, I had an ego as big as the entire state of Texas. After I got injured, I retreated back into myself, feeling less and less confident every day.

  Becoming the owner of this vineyard has forced me to use skills and parts of my personality that I hadn’t in years. It feels great, even if it’s exhausting.

  I don’t make it to bed until two a.m. But it’s with a smile, knowing we have to do it all over again tomorrow.

  23

  Savannah

  “Wow, I’m kind of bummed I missed this for all these years.”