Hale Maree (9 page)

“
Kiss me,” I say. A smile
teases over his lips. He tips his head to one side and squints at
me.

“
That’s what you want now?”
he asks. His stare is so intense; I catch my bottom lip in my teeth
without even thinking about it. When his eyes flick to my lips, I
realize what I’m doing and let go. Oscar smiles. “Why
now?”

I don’t have an answer, because I didn’t
expect the question. I thought he’d just give in and kiss me. I
didn’t expect that he’d resist, or question the direct request. I
glance away and take a step back, but Oscar moves forward and grabs
my arms.

“
Is that what you want?” he
asks again, but I can’t answer. I don’t know. I just want him to
see me as an equal, and not some little girl that he can tell what
to do. Not a cow. Not even a wife, but a woman who can make up her
own mind, and might even be able to make up his, with the right
kiss. But my whole plan kind of blows up in my face, because
Oscar’s not following the script I have in my head. Instead, he’s
looking at my lips, then drilling into my eyes, and all the womanly
wiles I was counting on fail me.

I gulp and push the coffee mug into his
gut.

“
Never mind,” I say. “Here’s
your egg.”

Oscar lets go of my arms, and his hands
slide down to take the mug.

“
Thanks,” he says with a
smirk, “for cooking for me.”

#

He won.

He told me before he wanted me to cook for
him and I walked right into it. As he turns to get a spoon from the
silverware drawer, I walk across the room to the door leading out
to the beach. My fingers are on the handle when Oscar says, “Stay
and talk to me.”

“
About what?” I ask with a
sigh.

“
Anything,” he says
innocently. “Tell me what you want from me.”

“
I don’t want anything from
you.”

“
You’re aiming kind of low,
don’t you think?” he asks. “Give me something to shoot for. To
impress you with. I could be a pretty impressive husband, if I’m
motivated.”

“
Why do we have to keep
talking about this stuff? It’s boring.” I say. Oscar just lifts his
spoon to his mouth and takes the first bite of his egg. He closes
his eyes and hums,
mmm.

“
You
really
know how to cook,” he says.
Cooking. That was on his list of what he wanted me to do for him,
and it annoys me. So, if he wants something to shoot for, I figure
I’ll make it impossible.

“
I want you to worship me,”
I say. Oscar’s entire forehead wrinkles up with amusement as he
chews.

“
Worship? Seriously?” he
asks, his mouth full.

“
Yup.”

“
You mean like bowing when
you walk in the room? Making altars? That kind of
thing?”

I roll my eyes. “No. I mean that if I call
for you, I want to know that you’ll come running. I want to know
that, when I walk into a room, you’ll notice. That if I burn dinner
or turn your t-shirts pink or gain five pounds, you’ll still feel
lucky to have me. When we talk, I want you to really hear what I’m
trying to say. That’s what I want from you.”

Oscar puts the mug on the counter. I think
he’s going to tell me I’m a spoiled brat, or that I don’t know a
thing about how relationships work, but he leans on the counter
with one hand and gives me a long stare before he says, “Done.”

I drop my fingertips from the door
handle.

“
I would notice you, Hale,”
he continues, “if you walked into a room behind a 500 pound lion
that was charging straight for me. I would notice you if the room
were full of naked women, and I was in deep conversation about my
own death. I will always come running, I’ll eat the dinner and wear
the shirts and I’ve already thought that if you put on ten more
pounds, it’d be a sure bet that I would never let you out of my
bed. I’ve been trying to soak up every word you’ve said since the
first time we spoke, so I think it’s only fair that you try just as
hard to hear me now. I think you are perfect for me, Hale, and I’m
just waiting for you to realize that I’m perfect for you
too.”

It’s like the entire room disappears and all
I see is Oscar with his level gaze, as he drops his voice to a
whisper and says, “Come here.”

But I stay where I am, with the sun warming
my back through the windows, and I shake my head at him.

“
No,” I say. “Come
running.”

He doesn’t hesitate. Oscar crosses the room
in four strides, pulling me into his arms. Both of his hands slide
up my back, one cupping my head as he brings his mouth down on
mine. His lips are softer than I expect. I spin inside his kiss,
clinging to him as he pulls my lip between his teeth and gently
releases it again. His breath whispers my name across my mouth as
he pulls me even closer. With my body crushed against his, and the
sunlight from the windows, and his hands sliding down my back, I
think I am going to combust.

As his mouth moves against mine again, and
his fingers slide over my hips, his cell phone begins to ring. He
ignores it, but I pull back.

“
Aren’t you going to get
that?” I ask. He groans, but reaches into his pocket, then steps
back, his eyes still boring into mine, and turns on the
phone.

“
Hello?” His tone could not
be more agitated. He listens a moment before his eyes move away
from me, out the windows. We’re still so close; it feels like an
invasion of his privacy to stay there, under his chin, breathing
him in, so I back away. His gaze remains far past me.

“
Ok...but they still don’t
have any leads, do they? I thought you said they worked
together...well, did Sophia have something to do with it or
not?”

He moves then, turning away from me to plant
his hand on the edge of the table, his back to me. I follow the arc
of his arm, past his broad shoulder, and down to his narrow waist.
My skin still tingles where his hands held me steady only a moment
ago.

“
But he told you Sophia sent
him...that they were together...no, it doesn’t add up, does it...I
don’t care what she says. The guy told you he was there because of
her, why would he say that if he wasn’t? I’ll talk to her in a
couple days. I’m too confused to say anything right now...Yeah,
she’s still here with me...I don’t know yet, we’ll see...alright,
well, keep me up on what’s going on, okay?...Alright, Dad...yeah,
you too...bye.”

He switches off the phone and lays it on the
table.

“
What’s going on?” I ask. He
shakes his head, and rubs his eyes with one hand.

“
We don’t know,” he says.
“Sophia’s either excellent at playing dumb, or she really doesn’t
know who Rick Tatum is. She’s been blowing up my house phone trying
to get me.”

“
Why doesn’t she call your
cell?”

“
She doesn’t have this
number,” he says. He’s still looking out to the beach. “The only
ones that do are my father and Landon.”

“
Are you going to call
her?”

“
When I figure out what to
say to her, I will. She was cheating on me, Hale. I don’t think she
needs to be told that it’s over.”

“
What if you’re wrong?” I
ask. What I mean is,
if she didn’t have
anything to do with this, are you going back to her?
I don’t know why it is such a dark question that I
have a problem asking it. I shouldn’t care. It’s just getting
really hard to remember that Oscar’s a complete
stranger.

“
The guy knew her name,” he
says. “I’m pretty sure she had everything to do with it. Look, I’m
going to go for a walk and clear my head.”

And that’s it. He goes out and the door
latches shut behind him with a gritty bang.

“
Come running,” I whisper,
but he doesn’t hear me.

CHAPTER
SIX

HE IS GONE FOR TOO LONG. I finally follow
his path out the sunroom door and down the short, curved sandy path
to the beach. The trees open up and the lake stretches out even
larger than I thought. I’m surprised that, although I can see the
other side, there are no houses looking back. The only sign of life
I see is Oscar sitting at the end of a long dock with his feet in
the water. I pick my way around a beached, aluminum boat, but I
only get a foot away from shore before I stop. The wobble of the
boards makes Oscar twist around to see me.

“
Hi,” he says, scooting
himself, and his removed shoes, over to make a spot for me. “You
want to come sit?”

“
No,” I say, backing off the
dock. The slight quake in the structure makes me feel lightheaded,
but it’s the thought of falling in the water that fills me with
sharp icicles.

“
Come on, the view’s even
better out here.”

“
That’s okay,” I say, but
he’s on his feet already, walking down the dock to me. When he gets
to the end, he steps off and says, “Are you mad about
something?”

“
No,” I say, but Oscar
starts explaining himself anyway.

“
Sorry that I walked out of
there like that. I was just surprised and needed a minute to think.
The guy that died, Rick Tatum - my dad doesn’t think Sophia even
knew him, but Tatum told my dad that Sophia sent him. It doesn’t
make sense. Tatum thought my dad was me, and told him to stop
dating Sophia, because Tatum said he’d been seeing her the last
couple weeks. But I guess Sophia’s trying to find me, and keeps
calling the house and begging my dad to tell her where I’m at. I
can’t figure out why she would do that, if her other boyfriend was
just found dead behind a bar. She’d have to know. It was on the
news. Unless she just didn’t see it. My dad said it was just a
short blurb, but Sophia would’ve wanted to hear what happened from
Tatum, if she actually sent him. My dad said that if she knows
anything, she’s totally convincing him in the opposite
direction.”

“
Maybe you should just call
her,” I say. I don’t say it very loud.

“
I can’t,” he says, rubbing
his temple. “I still don’t know what happened yet. I don’t want to
say anything to her before I know exactly what’s going
on.”

I wonder what he’ll end up saying, if she
didn’t have anything to do with it. I wonder if he’ll say he wants
her back, and I wonder what that will mean to me.

“
You want to come sit on the
dock? Put your feet in the water?” He grabs my hand, warm and soft,
and a shot of jealousy about Sophia shoots through me. He steps
onto the dock. I pull my hand back, but he doesn’t let go. “What’s
the matter?”

“
I, uh, I don’t know how to
swim,” I say.

“
Ohhh,” he breathes, but
instead of letting go, he squeezes my hand. “You can still sit on
the dock though.”

“
No,” I feel the color drain
from my face. My breathing accelerates and piles up in my throat.
“It freaks me out. If I’m out there and I fall in, it’s too
deep.”

Oscar looks out at the end of the dock.
“It’s shallow up here, but see that red beam way down there? The
one with the red stripe at the top?” I spot the beam immediately.
There’s a few yellow-tipped ones before it, and then, about thirty
feet away, at the halfway point on the dock, there is a bright red
beam. “That’s where the drop-off starts. But up here, it’s shallow.
The deepest it gets is up to your thighs. If you fell in, all you’d
have to do is stand up.”

He gives my hand a little tug, but I pull
back.

“
No, I think I’ll stay
here.”

“
Come with me. You can see
down to the bottom. It’s all rippled sand.”

“
No thanks.”

“
I’ll be sure you don’t fall
in.”

“
Nuh uh,” I shake my head,
but he doesn’t give up.

“
How about just coming in up
to your calves? You can do that, can’t you?” he asks, as he wades
onto the abbreviated beach. I remove my shoes and follow him in, a
little embarrassed.

“
Yes, I can do that,” I say,
but when he pulls me a little further, the sloshing that rises up
over my knees is reflected in my belly, and I have to put on the
brakes again. I feel myself going pale. Oscar turns back to me and
ducks his head to catch my gaze.

“
Too much?” he asks. I nod
stiffly. “Let’s sit down.”

“
Not in the water,” I say,
but Oscar’s expression tells me that I must look as scared as I
feel.

“
Don’t worry about getting
wet. We’ve got dry clothes up at the house.” He kneels down in the
water, tugging me down with him, but I stumble forward and end up
on my hands and knees. I yelp and panic and hold my chin up out of
the water. The idea of it on my face, going down my nose or into my
mouth makes me want to throw up. Oscar gets hold of me and hauls me
up, onto my knees.

“
You’re okay,” he tries to
assure me. The entire front of my shirt is soaked, and my entire
body starts to tremor. The wet fabric is as miserable as holding a
frozen, metal cookie sheet against my skin, but worse than anything
– I can’t catch my breath. Oscar stands up, pulling me with him,
and wraps an arm around my waist. “You really don’t like the
water,” he tries to joke. My lips are quivering too much to
answer.

The sand sticks to my feet as Oscar guides
me back to the cabin door. Once we’re inside, he only lets go of me
when I’m planted on a kitchen chair. He’s gone for a moment, while
I hiccup my breaths, and returns with a fluffy blue towel from the
bathroom. He puts it around my shoulders, and I don’t remember
anything else until I open my eyes again.