Can't Go Home (Oasis Waterfall) (24 page)

Kathryn moves closer, putting her forehead against my chest; I wrap my arms around her, securing her close to me. I stroke her hair and can hear her small sobs.

“I don’t understand any of this,” she admits. “I just know that when I’m close to you, when your arms are around me, nothing’s ever made me feel more certain or more clear about anything before.”

Kathryn looks up at me, tears streaming down her face. “I don’t want you to push me away anymore, Dre. I don’t want to walk away either. But … but … I’m going to leave right now and forget about how incredible you make me feel if you don’t start talking to me … letting me in.”

She’s the most gorgeous, intelligent, accepting, and wonderful woman I’ve ever met. I put my hand on the back of her neck, urging her to me. Her eyes flutter; her tongue moistens her lips. I kiss her, softly, intimately, passionately, wanting her to feel just how much I feel for her, need her, want her. When her lips meet mine, the weeks we’ve been apart have disappeared, my struggles are gone, the fear dissipates; all that is left is warmth, desire, joy, and love.

“Dre?” Kathryn asks, pulling back. “I’m serious. I can’t be shut out any longer.”

“I know, Baby, I know.” I kiss her neck, willing myself to stop, and respect her wishes. “I just love touching you, tasting you, smelling you. It’s been too long.”

“It won’t be too long ever again if you just talk to me,” she says, backing away, keeping my hand in hers. “We’ve got the physical and intimate connections nailed … we need to work on the emotional one too.”

Kathryn’s right. This isn’t a fling. This isn’t “for fun.” I belong to Kathryn Howell—every part of me is hers and hers alone. Nobody will ever touch me, affect me, have a hold on me the way she does. I’m hers. And my God, do I want her to be mine.

“I really don’t know where to start,” I confess, sitting down on the blankets, pulling her toward me. She’s sitting between my legs with her back against my chest. Kathryn tries to move her body to face me.

“Please, just lie like this, let me hold you against me. I can’t bear to watch your face when I tell you the things that I’m going to tell you.” She nods quietly, waiting for my story, the story I’ve been avoiding since the day I met her.

“Dre, I’m still here. Let that be your courage, your strength. The fact that I’m in your arms should be enough.”

And it is. She’s always right. “Maybe you could just start me off, ask me some questions.”

Nodding, Kathryn laces her fingers in mine and says, “Who’s your decorator? I love that lantern.” Her giggle softens my mood. I missed hearing her laugh. Her laughter ignites my courage.

“Great. That’s just great Pebbles, kick a man while he’s down,” I chuckle.

“God I missed that. I missed hearing you call me, ‘Pebbles.’ I almost went out and bought the box set collection of the
Flinstones
, because I missed you so much.”

And that’s it; her honesty compels me. Her total disregard of how her words, how the truth is going to make her look, is what’s gotten to me all along. Kathryn Howell is exactly the change I’ve been searching for.

“I was sick of it. Sick of how everything in life revolves around who has what, how much he has, or who makes more,” I start, feeling a small sense of relief as I finally open up to her. “I wanted to believe that I was better than that, better than getting all caught up in money and material things.”

“Don’t you think you took it to the extreme?” she asks, looking around.

“No, I don’t. I wanted to prove … to prove to them … to myself … that money, prestige, and status don’t fucking buy happiness,” I explain. “My entire life it’s always been about how things look on the outside. I’ve never gotten to really know how anything looks … or feels … on the inside.” Until now. I know what it feels like now to know that your total reason for existence is in someone’s else’s hands. Kathryn is my everything.

“I understand that Dre. It’s admirable really. It took me a long time to figure those things out too,” she says, tracing small circles with her pinkie on the back of my hand. “But I still did it with a job … a car … somewhere to live.”

“It’s not that easy for me. If I didn’t go ‘cold turkey’ or ‘balls to the wall’ with this plan, then it wasn’t going to work out,” I explain. I knew as soon as I made this decision that it had to be all or nothing. “I didn’t want it to be too easy to go back to that lifestyle … and honestly, in the past year, I haven’t wanted to at all.”

“Then, you’re growing as a person, Dre,” Kathryn compliments.

“I was until you came along. Then, I started questioning everything. I spent one night with you and wanted to give you the world,” I confess, remembering how I wanted to buy her anything that she ever wanted. “Your face lit up when we walked in to the honeymoon suite. I want it to light all the time up like that when I give you something, when you’re with me.”

“Dre, my God, don’t you get it? It lit up like that, because I was there with you—experiencing it with you,” she explains. “I’m not gonna lie. I enjoy ritzy, extravagant things on occasion. Really, who doesn’t? You seemed to like that room, that champagne, and those strawberries—”

“Fuck woman, you can’t bring those things up right now. I just got hard,” I respond, pulling her against me so she could feel how hard she makes me.

“Really? Me mentioning strawberries got you hard? That’s pathetic Dre,” Kathryn giggles, turning her head to kiss my neck. “What would happen if I told you that I loved the taste of that champagne on your hard, big, di—”

“I’d fucking roll you over right now, fuck you so hard that you wouldn’t be able to remember your name, Pebbles.” I growl, fisting my hands in her hair.

“Mmmmm … looks like I better not finish that sentence then,” she groans. “We still have more to talk about.” Kathryn moves forward, turns around, and sits cross-legged staring at me. “So, you just packed up … or actually didn’t pack anything up, and started over?”

“Pretty much,” I say, “I just needed to figure out how to exist without money, without materialistic things, and without power controlling who I am.”

“So, do you plan to live here in this plush, quaint little tent forever?” Kathryn asks, running her fingers along my blankets.

“No Kathryn, I don’t,” I quip sarcastically, rolling my eyes at her.

“I do plan at some point to actually do my residency and use my medical degree,” I explain. “I’m just not ready for all that. I’ve still got time to figure it all out.” She sits, staring at me, wide-eyed and serious. I wish I knew what she was thinking, feeling.

“But … but … if this is too much for you … too hard to accept, then I’ll start my residency as soon as I can. I’m pretty sure I know what I want … what I can be … and who I want.”

“Oh for God’s sake! No, Dre,” Kathryn exhales, “I’d never ask you to change or give up something that means a lot to you … just to make me happy.” She starts twirling her hair around her finger. “Granted, it’s a lot to wrap my brain around. I mean, my boyfr— … my … my … friend lives in a tent on the beach. It’s not really something that ya hear all that often.”

“Don’t correct yourself, just hearing you insinuate that we have something … something more here is enough to make me be a better man … a man more worthy of you, Kathryn,” I confess.

My heart lightens; the weight of the last few months is lessening. I feel fucking elated. Just being with her, hearing her talk, and watching her smile is reason enough to pack up and go the fuck to work.

Kathryn’s face visibly softens when she smiles, blushing. “What I don’t get though is if you wanted to change, become a better person, get away from modern luxuries, then why didn’t you just go to some third world country, and help sick people, instead of setting up camp on the beach in South Carolina?”

“I thought of that—even considered it, I decided against it, because I wanted to be around the luxuries, the ostentation of modern society, and still be able to deny myself,” I explain, hoping she understands. “Being in another country that doesn’t offer up all of the hoopla would just mean that I
can’t
get it—not that I’m resisting it.”

Kathryn listens intently, taking it all in, nodding. “That actually does make sense. But why here? Why Charleston?”

“Rory,” I reply easily. “When I told Rory my plan, he insisted I come here. I think he wants to keep an eye on me—he likes having me around … I like being around,” I admit. “He really is a great guy … with a huge heart.”

“So, ummm, you like have … uhhh … no money? Like none?” she asks as her cheeks redden.

“Now, I didn’t say that,” I chuckle. “I bought you a battery, remember?” Kathryn nods and smiles. I’m beginning to think that she may accept me for the freeloading, loser that I am.

“What money I do have, I keep in a safe at the hotel. Rory’s under strict rules to only break into it for shit that I absolutely must have,” I explain, hoping she understands me a little more.

“I usually get food and junk by working for it. I do odds and ends for Lanette, and she pays me in goddamn delicious-ass meals,” Kathryn chuckles, probably remembering how incredible Lanette’s food is or maybe even how perfect our kiss by the waterfall was.

“When I work down at the docks, I get paid in the daily catch,” I explain. “I’ve realized that there’s nothing more wonderful than cooking fish on an open flame on the beach … it’s so cool. Well, except when I get caught by the police. They’re not too happy with open fires out on the beach.” We both chuckle at the image of the police busting me for cooking seafood on the beach.

“So that’s why you know everyone everywhere. I never could figure that out.”

“Yep. I basically shower and shave at the hotel … or at the McAllisters’ when I don’t feel like going all the way down to the hotel,” I confirm. “I spend my days helping people, getting to know people, and just hanging out, taking it all in.”

“McAllisters? Who are they?” she asks looking puzzled.

“They own that monstrosity down the beach. They called the cops on me a few times … pissed that there was a homeless dude living on their beach,” I reply, recalling how much Steve and Ava hated me last year. “They wanted to get rid of me, badly … until I saved their daughter one day.”

Kathryn’s eyes widen, and I continue, “Hester had gotten caught in the ocean current. She went under. Steve dove in and got her, but she wasn’t breathing. I saw the whole thing and ran over to help,” I explain.

Kathryn listens, capturing my every word as if the story I’m telling impacts her directly. “At first, Steve wouldn’t let me near her. Finally, he let me help while he called 9-1-1. I cleared her windpipe and started CPR compressions. Hester gagged, spat up some water, and was as good as new,” I recount. Relief washes over Kathryn’s face. “Ever since then, we’ve been like family,” I say.

“Crimony. Thank God you were there, Dre.” Kathryn says, beaming at me.

“It really wasn’t that big of a deal,” I shrug. “I like them. Their dog, Tim Johnson, and I have formed a pretty solid bond. Sometimes, I even feel like he’s my dog.”

“Their dog’s name is ‘Tim Johnson’ and their daughter is ‘Hester?’ That’s priceless,” she laughs, snorting twice. “The literary agent in me loves that.”

“Yeah, Steve’s a writer, and Ava is a literature professor at the College of Charleston, so it fits them,” I say. “Sometimes, when the storms are going to get really bad, Ava sends Hester out to beg me to come inside for the night. Ava fights dirty; she knows I can’t turn that little girl down.”

“Storms? I never thought about that,” Kathryn says, her eyes filling with worry.

“Nothing to worry about. Between Rory and the McAllisters, I’m safe. It’s the people who don’t have anyone to look out for them that it’s really scary for … and sad,” I say.

My stomach clinches as I think about all the people who are out there alone, day-after-day, penniless and starving. “I’ve really learned a lot being out here, living like this. I spend a lot of time down at the shelter, lending a hand. I don’t accept their offerings or anything like that, but I do like to help … to talk … be their friend.”

Kathryn’s silent for a while, probably processing everything I just piled on her. “Remember when Dave at the Fair was thanking you for something? What’d you do for him?” Kathryn asks.

I feel guilty, realizing Kathryn must’ve been thinking about that since the moment it happened. I blew it off like it was no big deal, but she obviously saw through it all, knowing I was hiding something all along.

“Nothing all that earth-shattering. Dave’s not really a part of the fair, ya know; he just goes and helps out to get free tickets. He works down on the docks actually,” I explain. “I know him pretty well. Anyway, his son was climbing on the ferris wheel when nobody was watching and fell. Dislocated his shoulder—”

“So, you heard about it and ran down to fix it?” Kathryn finishes. I nod, shrugging my shoulders.

Kathryn crawls over to me, staring at me as she does so. “I can’t believe you thought I’d leave you after hearing all of this. Don’t you know that a woman’s libido is tied directly to her heart strings?”

“Huh? Whattya mean” I ask, brushing her hair away from her face.

“You know, when a woman sees a man she’s dating play with a little kid or do something over-the-top nice, it immediately wets her panties and makes her want him even more,” she explains, kissing my neck and biting lightly on my earlobe.

“Darling, where I’m from, women only get wet from money and prestige,” I counter.

“Well Dre, you’re in Charleston now, the friendliest city in the country, and I for one … am one hot mess right now,” she whispers, licking the corners of my mouth. “If you don’t start touching me, then there’s going to be Hell to pay,” Kathryn says, climbing the rest of the way up on to my lap and kissing me hungrily.

I’ve missed her touch, her taste, so much; my body just burns with desire and need for her. I can feel the want from my heart to my groin, pulling on my spine, pushing on my stomach. Groaning, I say, “The beach is pretty private right now. Wanna make love to me in the sand under the moon?”

“You’re incredibly romantic, but Dre, I don’t need romance right now. I need you inside me,” she pleads. Everything tightens inside me; the yearning is almost deadly.