Authors: Kathy Reinhart
“Actually...” I hesitated. “I am a little. I’ll be right down.”
I waited until I could no longer hear his footsteps before I stepped out of the tub to dry off. Rummaging through the bag the girls had left next to the sink, I was surprised to find that they had packed modest clothing, considering the entire romantic theme they planned for the weekend.
I pulled a Yankee’s T-shirt over my head, stepped into a pair of jeans and tied my hair back in a ponytail.
Standing in front of the mirror, I stared intently at the woman who stared back at me. Although we looked alike, that was where the resemblance ended. I was cautious and she was confident. I was pragmatic and she was carefree. I knew he wanted me—and she knew she wanted him.
The line between good girls and bad girls was very fine, but very well defined. It was a line I was always careful not to cross, but I had never in my life wanted anything as much as I wanted to be the girl in the mirror.
S
ixteen
...Just knowing that he was on the other side of the door was enough to send a chill up my back that would take more than a soak in warm water to eliminate...
I didn’t bring much to the conversation during lunch. He did most of the talking while I did most of the watching. I watched him move around the kitchen confidently, fluidly, exaggerating his well-muscled body. I was careful to cast my eyes away each time his head turned in my direction. I even took my hair out of its ponytail so that it fell like a curtain in front of my eyes, keeping them partially hidden from his view.
“I’ve gone through the house. There’s no phone, there’s no vehicle in the garage and would you believe, there’s no cable.” The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, as he added, “It looks like we’re going to have to find some other way to occupy our time until they decide to come back for us.”
I couldn’t tell if this was another attempt at humor or if he was being suggestive. I didn’t want to engage in open flirtation and give him the wrong idea, but I didn’t want to sound like a prude either.
“I’ve never been here before so I can’t suggest anything.” I looked around. “Did you see which road we took to get here?”
He shook his head apologetically. “I’m sorry, can’t say that I did.”
Our eyes locked for an uncomfortable moment, before he slapped his thigh with one hand, motioned to the door with the other and asked, “How about a walk?”
“In the rain?”
Holding out his right hand, he replied with a smile, “That would be romantic but... it’s not raining anymore.”
I took his outstretched hand, my eyes never leaving his. Standing next to him, I felt much smaller than five-foot-six. He shadowed me from every angle but somehow, I felt safety in his shadow.
He led me through the door and down the porch steps, never saying a word. I was beginning to think that the silence was making me more uncomfortable than anything I could have said. My mouth was open, but his words came out first.
“So I hear you’re the best pastry chef in Upper Darby?”
I laughed. “The best?” It suddenly occurred to me that I had no idea what the girls had revealed to him. “What else did they tell you?”
“Well, they didn’t exactly give away information. I inquired.”
Trying to appear casual, I said, “I may have heard that.”
He looked at me with one raised eyebrow, and continued, “You’re Meg Embry. You’re from Willoughby. You attended Kirkland, where you met Cory and Charlotte. You were much too good for the guy you just dumped and you’re the baker who puts the sweet in sweets.”
Thoroughly embarrassed, I let out a demure giggle. “I’m glad they didn’t exaggerate.”
“They told me general information only. I thought that anything personal should come from you.”
I was still grasping for something to say that wouldn’t scream school-girl-crush.
“I feel like I’m at a disadvantage here. I don’t even know you’re real name.”
“It’s Con, although I’m growing quite fond of Popeye.” He served his last statement with a smile that could melt the heart of the most cold-hearted man-hater.
I blushed and disregarded the Popeye remark. “Con, as in... Connelly, Connor, Conrad...”
“Connor. It’s my mother’s maiden name and the one name guaranteed to piss my grandfather off the most.”
“Ooh, family tensions?”
“My father’s father, oh yeah... you’d have to know old Jack. He’s quite a character and not accustomed to anyone, especially a woman, standing up to him. I think he finally met his match when he met my mother.”
His brief description painted a picture of a strong-willed, independent woman and I wondered if she was the one who inspired the confident aura that I found as sexy as the rest of his traits.
His complete frankness made it much easier for me to open up. He was being a good sport about our whole situation and I felt that I owed it to him to do the same, putting my discomfort aside as we made our way to the pond a few hundred yards away.
“So, do you come from a large family?”
“No, not really. It’s just my mother and I now... and of course, old Jack.”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”
Giving my hand a squeeze, he said, “Its okay.” After a deep sigh, he matter-of-factly stated, “Truth is, my whole family is a little screwed up, the dead and the living.”
“It seems we have common ground.”
He swung my hand back and forth, but my attention was on a tree near the edge of the pond. As we approached it, I saw that an old wooden swing hung from one of the many high branches and there were hearts, at least two dozen of them carved deeply into the bark of the tree. Initials decorated several of the hearts while others contained the full names of once-upon-a-time lovers. With a closer look, I noticed that Cory’s name was in many of them along with the names of various men. The thought of a teenaged Cory skinny-dipping with a different boy each weekend and carving the memory into the bark of this tree was enough to make me laugh aloud.
Con looked at me quizzically. “Anything you want to share?”
I shook my head not knowing where to begin when it came to describing Cory. “It’s nothing really, just something Cory did. You’d have to know her.”
“From what I’ve seen, she likes to live by her own rules.”
“Nicely put.”
As we came upon the swing, he motioned with the hand that still held mine. He walked around the back of me and I willingly sat on the wooden seat. I had to shift once or twice to relieve myself from the uncomfortable slivers of wood sticking me through my jeans. The rope was also old and worn and I wondered how many couples had enjoyed the view of the pond from the swing over its many years of hanging from this tree.
The breeze on my face and the back and forth motion put me in a trance. If it weren’t for the rush I felt each time his hands touched my back to keep me moving, I would have drifted off.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” Almost apologetically, he added, “If you don’t mind.”
In an attempt to be sociable and still maintain my privacy, I replied, “I reserve the right to not answer.”
“Fair enough.” He pushed me a little higher. “What happened... with you and your intended?”
I didn’t reply immediately. There was no simple, one word answer to his question. I wasn’t even sure that I fully understood where things went wrong. I only knew that they had.
He had been patiently waiting, when I finally said, “I guess either I expected too much or he offered too little.”
I suddenly felt embarrassed and tried to remove the attention from myself.
“How about you? Has there ever been a special someone?”
He didn’t hesitate. “I’ve been in love with the same woman since I was about fifteen years old.”
I lowered my head, letting my hair fall into my face. How pathetic was I, lusting over a man who’s been in love with someone else practically forever?
“So then you’re married?”
“I’d like to be but...”
“But?” I prodded.
“The truth is that I haven’t exactly met her yet.”
I turned my head as far as I could to one side, but I still couldn’t see him. It was probably for the best considering the look of shock he would have seen on my face.
“You’ve been in love with a woman for fifteen years or better and you never even met her. You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope.”
Although I knew he was serious, I found his statement so odd that it was actually funny. It was probably the most serious thing he had said since I awoke this morning and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Wow, I don’t know what to say. You’re in love with...” I mused. “With a stranger.”
He pushed me a little higher.
“I told you we weren’t quite right, the living and the dead.” He laughed. “As crazy as it sounds, I’m in love with the woman in my dreams.”
“
In
your dreams or
of
your dreams?”
“Both. The woman in my dreams
is
the woman of my dreams.”
I couldn’t hold the laugh I’d been choking back any longer.
“I’m sorry but do you know how crazy this sounds to someone who hardly knows you?”
“Absolutely. But it’s true. I’ve dreamed about her hundreds of times. I know her walk, her hair color, her mannerisms, what makes her smile, what makes her cry, what her voice sounds like...” He hesitated. “Corny maybe, but she’s been part of my life for a long time. She’s always been faceless in my dreams, but somehow I always knew I’d recognize her when I saw her.”
I took care in choosing my words.
“A little strange...but in a sweet sort of way.”
“I know you’ve been a little uncomfortable being stuck here with me so... I thought it might help to put you at ease if you knew me a little better.”
Surprisingly, I was feeling more at ease with him than I would ever admit. He had a soothing affect on me, and the longer I was stranded with him; the longer I wanted to be stranded with him.
“Thank you, but I’m really not that uncomf...”
“Meg!”
I grasped for the one rope left hanging from the tree, as my ears echoed with the shriek of my own scream. There was no time to react or to be afraid when the broken swing and I veered off course and slammed into the tree. I didn’t cry, I didn’t feel the impact and I didn’t notice that everything went dark around me.
“Meg. Meg, can you hear me?”
“Hmm.” I fought through internal fog to comprehend what had happened but outwardly, I lay calmly, propped in Con’s arms.
“Meg, I have to get you to the house, you’re bleeding. Are you going to be alright to move?”
It took every muscle in my face to keep my eyes open long enough to answer his question.
“I’m wet.”
Seemingly pleased with the fact I responded at all, he smiled and said, “It’s been raining all day and the ground is soaked. Here, throw an arm around my neck.” With that, he hoisted me in one, balanced movement.
My mind was still a little hazy, making it hard to control the odd thoughts that were keeping my rational thoughts company. I wondered if he found me to be heavy. I was curious as to where I was bleeding from since I felt no pain. At the same time, I wondered if he always smelled this good.
He carried me up the long hill from the pond and to the top the wooden stairs without breaking a sweat. Unexplainably, that fact sent a chill up my spine.
Kicking the door open with one foot, he made his way through the house to lay me on the couch in the living room. The three logs he threw on the dying embers in the fireplace began to crackle and spit sparks. He placed one hand on a hip and the other ran through his thick hair several times. Looking around the room once or twice, he shook his head. I thought I saw his mouth open a time or two, but he remained silent.
“You look upset... I’m fine, really. Just a couple bumps and bruises. What I would really like is to get out of these wet clothes.”
“
That
I can manage.”
His face colored quickly. He avoided looking in my direction for several seconds, but when his eyes finally fell on mine, I held his gaze.
“Embarrassment looks good on you.”
In an attempt to conceal his own smile, he pulled on one side of his lower lip with his teeth, giving him a boyish appearance.
“I’ll see if I can find some bandages. Will you be alright here?”
Feeling a stinging sensation deepening on my right cheek, I simply nodded as he turned and left the room.
I must have dozed off while waiting for his return because his voice broke through my subconscious thoughts to startle me.
“Here we go.” He sat next to me on the couch, dipped a cloth in a dish of water and began to dab at my cheek. “It looks like its stopped bleeding, but you’ve got quite a bit of dried blood on your face and in your hair.”