Cabin Fever (19 page)

I sit up suddenly, jerking myself out of my dream-haze.
A nude? Of Jeremy? Am I insane?
Talk about playing with fire; I’m already sweating.

“Now what?” he says, parroting my question as he wipes down the counter with a sponge. “Now, we have you telling me the rest of your story.” He looks up at me and winks. “Thought I forgot, didn’t you?”

I shrug, hating that we’re back on this subject. It’s so boring and not something I want to re-live. I’m totally ready to move on. My time here with Jeremy has at least brought me to that conclusion. I knew it before, but now I feel it too, all the way deep in my bones.

“It’s not a big deal,” I say, shrugging. “I just got burned out, and one night after I had a bunch of tequila shots, I drafted a letter to my landlord telling him I was putting in my notice and then mailed it.”

“Wow.” He tosses the sponge in the sink. “I’ve heard of drunk-dialing and drunk-texting, but never drunk-notice-giving.”

“I know.” I smile a little at my foolishness. Those were the actions of a girl in high school, not a grown woman. “I’m original, what can I say.”

“So you gave notice, and then what?”

“Well, then I looked around me and realized I had enough money in the bank to stop working for about six months, and since I didn’t have a life outside of work and I hated working, I really didn’t have any other choice.”

“What do you mean?” He leans on the island with both forearms, staring into my eyes.

I can’t look away. “I was lost. Disconnected. I didn’t know who I was anymore or what I wanted. All I knew was that I needed a change and I needed to be able to paint again.”

“And you drove out here?”

“No, I called up my friend Leah and she invited me to come visit her in Manhattan.”

“James’s girlfriend, I guess,” he says.

I nod, hypnotized by his beautiful eyes. “I drove out, thinking I’d stay a little while and paint there, but when I saw his place …”

Jeremy grins.

“…I knew it wouldn’t work.”

“Not very art-studio-ish, is it?” he asks.

“No. I mean, Leah’s changed it all around. It looks nothing like it did before. But still, it’s too beautiful to mess up with my stuff.”

“James changed his condo?” Jeremy stands up straighter at this news.

“Oh my god, yes.” I laugh remembering the before and after photographs. “Completely. He let Leah loose in there.”

Jeremy tilts his head. “What’s she like?”

I look out the front window, trying to see past the darkness, but all I can see is our reflection. My mind falls back in time to my past. “Leah is colors. She is an entire color wheel on legs. She has energy, she’s silly, she’s a hippy born in the wrong generation, and she’s very kind. And forgiving.”

“Not James’s type at all,” Jeremy says.

I turn my gaze back to him. “Oh, you’d be surprised. They actually compliment each other really well.”

“I don’t get it.” Jeremy shakes his head.

I slide off the stool and go over to my studio. “I’ll show you.”

Jeremy follows me over and stands behind me as I grab my palette and squeeze some colors out onto it. I turn around with it and several small paintbrushes in my hand.

“This is James,” I say, grabbing some of the brown and sliding it across my palette’s surface.

“Yes. I can see that.” Jeremy laughs silently for a second. “Brown. Dull, boring, and predictable brown.”

“Not so fast,” I say, winking at him. I use another brush to draw a stripe of hot pink next to it. “This is Leah.”

“Bright.”

I add a stripe of electric blue next to it. “And this is Leah too.”

“Colorful.”

“And this is Leah.” I add some yellow and orange to the lines I’ve already painted.

I hold up the palette so it’s below his chin. “Tell me what you see now.”

“Well, I see lots of colors around the brown streak.” He laughs.

“And what do you see in the brown? Anything?”

He stares and shrugs.

I turn on the lamp without the shade on it and wait for him.

“Maybe I see some red.”

“Very good. Anything else?”

“Orange? Spices?”

I put the palette down. “You said spices.” I feel like hugging him. This is what I used to feel like when I first started teaching — pride in a job well done.

He looks embarrassed. “I know. Stupid, huh?”

“No, not at all. Spices can seem muted when you first look at them, color-wise, but if you spill some out on a white piece of paper and really look at them, or put them next to something with a complimentary color, you often will see them differently.”

“So you’re saying that James is like a spice.”

I laugh. “Maybe. I don’t know him that well, but I do know Leah, and I can guarantee you, she wouldn’t be having a baby with a guy who was boring.”

“A baby?” Jeremy takes a step back. “She’s pregnant?”

“You didn’t know?”

“Why would I? No one tells me anything.” He sounds offended.

I have to laugh at his outrage. “Well, they’d love to tell you things, but you’ve been impossible to find.” I tilt my head and really look at him. “You’re missing out on your entire life, hiding out here in this cabin. Is that what you want? To miss Cassie growing up? To miss your brother becoming a father?”

Jeremy shakes his head, and then turns around, staring at the front door. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I don’t believe that. Be honest. You love your family, I know you do. You should go see them. You should go see your daughter.”

His chin drops to his chest. “It’s too late for that.”

“Too late? Are you kidding? Don’t be ridiculous. It’s never too late to make things right.” As I found out recently when I went back to a friend who’d I’d left in the dust. Thank goodness Leah is so forgiving. I wouldn’t have met Jeremy if it weren’t for her kind heart, and I already know that would have been a tragedy. Even if he leaves tomorrow, I’m still a better person having spent this time with him.

Jeremy’s upset. “You said they already took custody away from me. That sounds like too late to me.” He walks away and sits down on the couch.

I follow closely behind, suddenly desperate to get him to understand. “No, it’s not like that! They just did it as a temporary measure in case she needed medical care. I guess she got really sick one week and they worried the hospital wouldn’t take their treatment decisions without something legal to back them up. And they couldn’t find you. They tried really hard. Jana told me they drove all over the city, going to every place they knew you went to before.”

“Sick?” Jeremy’s head jerks sideways to look at me as I come around the couch. “How sick?”

“Nothing bad, but for a couple days they were worried about her fever.” I sit down next to him and take his hand in mine, resting it on my leg. “Please go back home. Please go back and see your family.”

He looks down at our hands and then up at me. “Why do you care so much what I do?”

My heart is beating too fast. I’m afraid he’s going to figure out that I’m panting after him like a dog in heat. I try to pull my hand back, but he grabs my fingers and holds on tight.

“Tell me,” he says, his eyes now smoldering where before they were full of anger and pain.

“Ummm, because I want you out of the cabin so I can paint in peace?” I try to sound firm about it, but it comes out like a question.

“I don’t think so,” he says.

We stare at each other for a long time. I hold my breath until I start to see stars swimming around his head.

“I want to kiss you,” he whispers. “I haven’t wanted to kiss another woman in years. Since I first met Laura.”

I let out my breath in a loud huff. “Don’t.”

The two of us kissing feels like a really bad idea. I know me. As badly as I want to feel his lips on mine, I know I won’t recover from this one as easily as I’ve recovered from bad hookups in the past. This one will really hurt. Jeremy’s not like other guys. Not even close.

“Why not?” he asks, his eyes showing hurt now.

I want to answer honestly, but I have no answer that makes sense. “I don’t know,” I finally admit.

He leans in and puts his free hand gently on my cheek. Only his fingertips are there, sending electric shocks and shivers down my face, my neck, and across my body. He’s so close I can feel his breath on my face. He smells like sticky-sweet maple syrup.

My eyes are drifting closed and I’m thinking about all the ways I’m probably going to regret this, when suddenly a loud bang, a yelp, and a crash yank me out of the moment and away from Jeremy’s touch.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

MY PAINTING IS ON THE floor and the cloth that was covering it is halfway across the room. Jaws is under it and trying to escape, dragging it around with his struggles.

“What the hell?” I scramble around the couch to get to the alcove before Jeremy does.

By the time I get there, Jaws has lost his attacker-sheet and is hiding in the corner, looking like he’s afraid he’s about to be kicked or something the way he’s cowering and shivering. He’s knocked the easel over and spilled an entire paint-can of brushes too. Thank goodness I’d emptied it of dirty water this morning before I went to bed, otherwise the painting would be destroyed.

I wrestle the easel back into place and then bend over to grab the painting. Jeremy is standing there to help, but freezes when he sees the image on the canvas.

I walk over and grab the sheet without a word. As I start to throw it over the painting, his hand on my wrist stops me from completing the motion.

“I’m sorry …,” he says absently, “…I didn’t mean to look.” He’s still staring at it, his eyes scanning every inch of the images there.

“Never mind,” I say, pulling away from him and gathering the sheet up so I can throw it over properly. “It’s not your fault. Jaws is the guilty party.” I raise my eyes to my furry friend. “Look at him. Have you ever seen anyone look so guilty?”

Jeremy ignores my attempt to pull his gaze away from the painting.

“That’s me,” he says, staring at his likeness.

I don’t respond. What am I going to say? That it’s not? Of course it is. I know I’m good enough to paint someone’s image with clarity. I’m just embarrassed that he caught me reading him, delving into his emotions. I couldn’t help it, though. That’s how I saw him when he first arrived here. Now I realize I see something, some
one
else when I look at him in this moment. Some of the darkness has lifted from around him. Some of the pain that was swallowing him up has left. Or at least I’d like to think it has.

“Do I really look that sad?” he asks, stepping closer to it.

“Maybe.” I’m embarrassed. More eloquent words escape me.

“I can see the words on the page.” He reaches out to touch the book in the painting, but I stop him.

I lower his hand down to his leg again. “It’s wet. Don’t touch it.”

He takes two of my fingers in his grasp and looks at me, finally tearing his eyes from the canvas. “Is it me? Is that really me?”

I shake my head. “No, Jeremy. It’s not you. It’s who you
were
, but it’s not who you are. Not now.” I yank on his hand to wake him out of that hypnotized place he looks like he’s fallen into. “It’s not you.”

His mouth moves up into a lopsided, sad smile. “That’s what Laura used to say.”

I frown, confused. “What?”

His thumb rubs the back of my hand and he looks at me. His expression is unreadable. “Whenever I’d act like a dick or out of character, she’s just look at me and say, ‘That’s not you, Jeremy. It’s not you.’”

I shrug, casting off the crazy feeling that I’m being watched by her ghost. “She sounds like a smart and patient girl.”

“She was. So are you.”

I pull my hand away. “I told you before not to compare me to her.”

“I’m not,” he rushes to say. “I promise. I was just noticing that quality in you, and I meant it as a compliment, not as a comparison.”

I raise the sheet up like I’m about to throw it over the canvas.

“Please don’t cover it up.”

I look at him. “Why?”

“Because. It’s a good reminder.”

“Of what?”

“Of me not being me. I need that. Laura always wanted me to be myself, and she was right about that. That’s who I need to be.”

I let the sheet fall to my side. “It’s just a painting.”

“Maybe to you. Not to me.” He looks over at it again and points to the dog. “I love that part. He looks like he’s trying to figure out which part of me he wants to bite first.”

I smile, a little embarrassed about what I’ve painted. It’s a new experience for me. Usually there’s no question about what I should paint or that it should exist. But this time it’s different; some of my own personal emotions are mixed up in that paint. I shouldn’t be surprised; that’s the way my work should be. It’s just that it’s been so long since that’s been the case.

“It was right after he bit you. I couldn’t resist.”

Jeremy shifts to the side a little, getting closer to the easel. “I like the mix of emotions. The darkness surrounding the guy. Me, sitting there sad. The dog with only one thing on his mind. The book and what I know it means to the man sitting there. It works.”

“Well, thank you,” I say, kind of laughing, feeling shy. I’m pleased he understands my take on his emotions, but still wish he hadn’t seen it. It reveals way too clearly how closely I’ve been watching him. Will he notice that part of it? What will he think?

“Maybe when you’re done, you’ll let me buy it from you.”

I shrug, moving back to the living room. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

“Here,” he says, going into the kitchen. He pulls a small, clear, glass cereal bowl out of a cabinet. “My secret.” He puts it down on the island.

I walk over and pick it up. “Your secret is a bowl.”

“Not just any bowl.” He takes it from me and mimes filling it with something. “See? Put the snow in, pack it down, flip it upside down. Perfect snow ball for syrup.”

“Ah-haaa, very sneaky.” I hand the bowl back to him. “I guess now all our secrets are out on the table.”

He puts the bowl down on the counter. “Not all of them.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You have more?”

He shrugs. “Maybe. What about you? You got any good ones you’re holding back?”