Leave a Mark (22 page)

Lee watched them head toward the woods on the other side of the parking lot. Victor didn’t look back but kept pace with Wren as they retreated. Although his puppy legs were getting a little longer, he still didn’t quite reach Wren’s knee. The sight of them stilled Lee’s hands on the tie-downs. The idea of a boat suddenly seemed so inadequate. He wouldn’t be able to lie beside her and study all that skin. Lee cursed himself for not going with a simple picnic. At least they could have stretched out together on a blanket.

He shook the regret from his head. She was here. That was all that mattered. And he could hope for a time when there would be a picnic blanket.

After Lee set the kayak on the ground, he filled it with the cooler, lunch provisions, and life jackets. He dragged it along the strip of grass beside the boat launch until he reached the put-in.

“Ready?” Both Wren and Victor looked up when he called. Wren wore a smile, and Lee watched it grow as she walked closer.

“I’ve never done anything like this.”

“Never been in a kayak?” he asked, doubtful.

Wren shook her head. “Not even a canoe.”

“No way. Really? Any boating?”

“Nope.” She gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I’ve been tubing down the Whiskey Chitto River. That’s it.”

How could she have grown up in South Louisiana and never spend any time in a boat?

“Well, that’s about to change.” Lee pushed the kayak until the nose met the water. “Come here, Victor.”

The dog approached, and Lee grabbed the Outward Hound life vest and fought with Victor until he was secured.

“That is so cute,” Wren said, as Lee clipped Victor’s leash to the back of the vest.

“He’s pretty good while we’re in the kayak, but if something happened, I wouldn’t want him just relying on his dog paddle.” Lee looked back at Wren. “What about you? Good swimmer?”

Wren’s eyes went wide. “Sure… I mean… I can tread water for a little while.”

Lee shook his head.
Not good enough.
He reached into the kayak and grabbed an orange vest.

“Put this on.”

Wren frowned at him. “What about you?”

“I’m an excellent swimmer.”

She looked into the kayak and back at him. “I see two paddles. What if I hit you in the head and you go overboard?” This time she shook her head. “No, if I’m wearing one of these, so are you.”

Biting down on his smile, Lee snagged the other life vest. “Yes, ma’am.”

When they were both safely outfitted, Lee pointed to the front seat. “Okay, go ahead and sit down. I’ll hold it steady for you."

Lee bent down and braced the kayak as water lapped against its nose. He looked up and saw uncertainty in Wren’s eyes. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you tip over.”

She hid her expression with a frown. “You’d better not." She walked around him, moving just to the water’s edge, and she gripped his shoulder.

Lee looked down just as she lifted her left foot, and his eyes went wide.

“You have bluebirds on the tops of your feet.”

Wings spread in flight, colors true to life in detail like he’d never seen; the birds spanned her lovely feet, the straps of her flip-flops hiding little.

Wren giggled as she found her footing in the kayak and sunk down. “Yes, I do. Do you like them?”

He watched her plant each foot in the notched rests along the kayak’s hull. Lee had never been a foot guy, but the sight of Wren’s adorned feet did him in.

“Only better than anything I’ve ever seen,” he muttered, making her laugh again. Lee tried to clear his head. “Do you want Victor with me or with you?”

“Me!” Wren clapped her hands, and Lee scooped up the dog and set him down between her knees. Victor wagged and moved in to lick Wren’s face.

“Sit, boy.” The dog obeyed, and Lee handed Wren a paddle. “Okay, I’m going to push you in farther, and the kayak’s going to rock a bit when I get in.”

Wren glanced up at him again with apprehension. “It is?”

“Yes, but you’re going to brace us with the paddle. We won’t tip. I promise.”

“We’d better not,” she said, making him laugh.

He pushed until the kayak was a little more than halfway in. “Okay, here goes. You brace us on the left, and I’ll take the right.”

Wren’s back went straight, and she stabbed her paddle down the left side. Lee stepped in, and the kayak tilted left then right as he sat. He gave one push, and they glided into the water, balancing out.

“See? That wasn’t so bad." He anchored his feet on either side of Wren’s seat and began to move them away from the boat launch.

The day was cool and clear, and the wind blew enough to create a light chop, but the ride was smooth enough.

“How do I do this?” Wren called over her shoulder, her paddle raised awkwardly in front of her.

“It’s an easy motion,” Lee said. “It should feel natural and comfortable. Basically, just dip your paddle into the water. Your lower hand pulls while your upper one pushes. Do the same on the opposite side. If you want to go fast and straight, let your paddle enter the water as vertically straight as possible.”

She tested the motion, and Lee felt the kayak pick up a little speed. “Like this?”

He smiled at the excitement in her voice. “Just like that. And if we want to turn, just paddle on the opposite side with shallow pulls. Going straight and easy is the same. You just balance each side.”

Wren held the paddle lightly, and she stroked on the right, slowly making them go left.

“It’s easy,” she said, sounding surprised.

“Of course it’s easy,” Lee said, laughing.

“You’d better not be laughing at me again,” she threatened, but he could hear the tease in her voice.

Lee inhaled a lungful of fresh air and let it go in relief. It was going to be a good day.

“
SO, WHERE DO
you want to go?” Lee asked.

Wren scanned the horizon. The kayak seemed ridiculously small against the expanse of the lake. Even though she could clearly see the opposite shore, she felt like a ladybug traversing the ocean on a leaf.

Still, the sight that stretched out before her was breathtaking. Cypress trees draped in Spanish moss gave the lake a haunting allure. Reflections of fluffy clouds rippled on the water’s surface.

And the birds…

Everywhere she looked, there were birds. Even as they paddled away from the bass boats queuing up at the launch, she spotted a blue heron stepping through the shallows near the bank. Wren reached for her phone to snap a picture, but it startled and took flight. She wondered how close they’d really be able to get to the egrets perched in the trees.

“Can we go over there?" She pointed to their left toward the trees where hundreds of the white birds nested.

“Sure. Anything you want." She could feel the force of Lee’s strokes as he pushed them across the water. Wren did her best to help out, but his efforts were more sure and true. He eased back as they approached the first curtain of cypresses.

In front of her, Victor tipped up his nose and sniffed as the low-hanging moss passed overhead. Wren rested her paddle across her lap as Lee slowed even more, the sound of his paddling now just a tiny trickle.

They drifted beneath a great egret with feathers fanned out like a dandelion. Wren pointed at it.

“You see that? The way his feathers look all wispy?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah?” Lee whispered back.

“That’s his breeding plumage. He’s trying to attract a mate.”

Lee chuckled behind her.

She wished then that she could see him without turning around.

“What’s the human equivalent of breeding plumage?” he asked.

Wren stifled a laugh at his question. “A tattoo, of course,” she whispered back.

“Well, then I’m in luck." He was speaking so softly, Wren wasn’t sure she’d heard him clearly.

She took out her phone so she didn’t have to respond to him, and she snapped a few shots of the egret.

“So, is that bird going to become a tattoo?” Lee asked, his voice going gentle. By the sound, Wren could tell he was smiling.

She shrugged. “Maybe. Probably. If not one of mine, then someone else’s." It was an honest answer. She’d take the pictures home and draw some sketches. The sketches she liked best would become templates in her book at the studio, and, more than likely, someone would buy them.

“I have to draw them first and see if they’re any good,” she explained.

Lee went silent for a minute.

“So… why tattoos?” he asked. “I mean, why ink over other art forms?”

She wasn’t ready for his question, so she deflected. “Why gynecology? Over other kinds of medicines?”

Wren heard him chuckle. “I asked you first.”

“So?” she defended. “What are you? Twelve?”

Another silence.

“In some ways.” His chuckle dried up. “Marcelle certainly thought so.”

Wren’s ears perked. She wanted to see the look on his face, but, in the kayak, she’d have to glance back over her shoulder without stealth. Instead, she put away her phone and picked up the paddle again.

“Why did she think that?” she asked finally, her own voice cautious around the question.

Lee sighed. “We didn’t like the same things. She thought the things I liked were childish." He sounded as though his thoughts had carried him away. Wren wanted to bring him back.

“What kinds of things do you like?”

Lee laughed, and the sound tickled her middle. “What kinds of things do you think I like? Guess.”

A smile overtook her, and she blushed, glad now that he couldn’t see her face. “Well… you like kayaking.”

“Yep.”

She took a hand off the paddle and stroked Victor’s head. The golden puppy looked up at her with a sleepy gaze and nestled down against her thigh. “And dogs.”

“Yes.” His voice had warmed. Wren had no doubt that he not only liked dogs, but he loved Victor.

“And you like Joss Whedon, which is as awesome as it is unbelievable.”

Lee’s laughter broke over the water, startling the two closest egrets from a nearby tree.

“Does that mean I’m awesome?” he fished, still laughing.

“Oh… let’s see. You like Pitbull, which definitely does not make you awesome—“

Three more birds fled at the sound of his laughter. Wren pressed on.

“You like dancing,” she said, beginning to realize that her list of the things he liked wasn’t at all short. “And you like peach pies.”

Lee’s paddle came out of the water and was suddenly wedged to her left between her seat and the kayak’s hull. The small vessel pitched a little to the left and right, and Wren realized that Lee was shifting behind her.

“What are you doing?” she asked, bracing.

“I want to grab you and kiss you,” he said, sounding determined.

“What?! No!" She went rigid, half afraid he’d tip them before he could reach her and half afraid he’d succeed.

“Yes.”

The heat in his voice went right between her legs. If he could find a way to start kissing her in this impossibly tiny kayak, she’d be in trouble. “No. Feed me instead. I’m hungry,” she lied.

The kayak stilled. “You’re hungry?”

“Yes. It’s lunchtime." That part was true, anyway. It had to be past noon.

“Okay. I’ll fix that.” His voice had softened, and it touched her just as if he’d put his hands on her. “You keep us from bumping into a tree. That’s a great way to get a water moccasin in the boat.”

“Seriously?” Wren paddled on the right side to move them away from the tree they approached.

She could hear the rustling of a paper bag and the squeak of Lee’s cooler. “Yep. They like to rest on the cypress knees. Sometimes you can’t spot them coiled up until you’re practically on top of them.”

They were gliding through a kind of watery forest, trees on all sides, and Wren concentrated on keeping them a paddle’s length away from each trunk. They hadn’t gone very far when she felt Lee tap her on the shoulder.

“Here, reach back.”

She twisted in her seat, and her eyes took him in again. He looked perfectly at home against the backdrop of the cypress grove. From the dark wayward curl that swooped over his forehead to the cut of his biceps that seemed to stretch his shirtsleeves, Lee belonged to the outdoors. What had happened to the guy with the silk tie and the white coat? Had this wild man always waited underneath?

Smiling at her, he held out a bundle wrapped in a napkin, and Wren took it. When she turned back and peeled back the paper, she found a chicken breast, a few strawberries, and a small bunch of grapes.

“White meat okay?” he asked. “You can have dark if you’d rather.”

Wren smiled even as memories tugged at her. “Nah, I like white meat better. Mamaw Gigi fries chicken all the time. There’s a lot leftover these days, but we used to finish it in one night.” The words were out before she even knew she’d said them aloud. “Laurie and I would eat the white meat, and Mamaw and Papaw would take the dark.”

“Who’s Laurie? Your sister?” He talked with his mouth full. It was one more thing at odds with the persona she’d built for Dr. Leland Hawthorne. And the novelty of it kept the usual pain at bay.

“She was my mother,” she said simply.

Lee was silent for a moment.

“Was,” he said, finally, no trace of question in the word. “That sucks.”

Wren loved how he recognized the truth and wasn’t afraid to say it.

The wind blew through the branches overhead. She looked up at the swaying moss and filled her lungs. A lot of things sucked, but at least out here, she could breathe.

“Yeah, it does suck,” she managed.

“I know all about that." Lee’s voice was gentle, and she appreciated the sentiment, but he was wrong. She peeled off a piece of chicken, but she couldn’t make herself eat it.

“How old were you when she died?” he asked.

Wren drew in another breath and sighed. If she told him anything, she’d have to tell him everything.
Well, not everything,
she reminded herself. She’d never tell him
everything.
Wren didn’t like talking about Laurie, even with Mamaw. But she could give the rough details and leave it at that. Besides, if he didn’t like what he heard — if he decided that she’d come from trash — he didn’t have to see her again.