Mine: A Love Story (17 page)

It’s the third weekend of spring semester, and I really couldn’t ask for school to be going any better. Algebra is the only class I don’t like—no surprise there. But one bad class out of five is a ratio I’ll gladly take for the rest of my college career. History is okay, English and sociology are better than okay, and psychology is really fun. I think I may be heading for a major in psych, though I have no idea what I’ll be able to do with it after I graduate. But that’s a really long time from now, so no need to worry about it.

Playing guitar for my friends was a great idea. I feel closer to them than ever, and more importantly, I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Keeping secrets is tough, even one as harmless as the fact that I play the guitar and sing a little. And did I mention it was really fun? Playing and having them sing along at the choruses? We’re planning on doing it again soon.

Today though, I’m on my own. Marissa and Katie are spending the day with their guys, and Beth is fighting a cold. I’ve decided to head for the park. It’s a beautiful day—mostly clear with temperatures in the fifties. There’s no wind at all, and the bright sun makes it feel even warmer, especially after our recent cold spell. I’m wearing a yellow sweatshirt and black sports shorts. My white T-shirt protrudes a stylish three inches below my sweatshirt. I’m also wearing knee high sport socks with wide yellow and white stripes. The socks are a little “out there” for me, but they were a Christmas present from Marissa, who’s continually trying to stretch my fashion sense.

On such a gorgeous winter weekend, I’m not surprised to find lots of people at the park, taking advantage of the great weather. There’s a big soccer game going over on the field, as well as bunches of kids running around throwing Frisbees and footballs. There are even a couple of boats out on the lake.

More than a few guys out on the field are pretending that it’s summer by going shirtless. I guess all that exercise is keeping them plenty warm. I’ve already got my sweatshirt more than halfway unzipped, and I expect once I work up some more body heat I’ll unzip it completely, if not take it off altogether.

At least half the grills in the picnic area have smoke curling up from them, and I can smell the tantalizing aromas of barbecued ribs and grilled beef as I pass. It’s a good thing I had lunch just a little while ago, or I might find myself begging strangers for some of their food. The barbecue smells so good I’m tempted to do it anyway.

As I pass closer to the boat house, I see someone I recognize—James. I never took him up on his invitation to come by The Joint over the Christmas break, and I haven’t seen him since that night Marissa, Gary and I went. He’s wearing a light blue T-shirt over a long sleeve dark blue shirt and tan cargo shorts. It looks like he’s getting ready to rent a boat.

I debate calling out to him, or going over to say hello. He’s always been nice whenever I’ve seen him, and he doesn’t seem to have any kind of agenda, unlike most guys. Of course, I’ve never been alone with him, so who knows? Maybe it’s best if I just pass by and hope he doesn’t notice me.

But what if he does see me? I’m getting pretty close to where he’s standing—it would be hard to pretend I haven’t seen him. I don’t want him thinking I’m a snob, or that I don’t like him.

This is exactly the kind of anxious, paranoid thinking I’ve been trying to avoid. See what guys can do to you, even when you’re not dating them? I wonder if I’ll ever be done with it. Anyhow, the decision is taken out of my hands when James glances up and sees me. His mouth widens into a broad smile.

“Hey, Heather,” he calls. “Long time no see.”

I walk over to him. “Hi, James. Beautiful day, huh?”

“Sure is,” he says. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

“You renting a boat?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s one of my favorite ways to relax, but I don’t get much chance to do it in the winter.” He looks up at the sky. “Got to take advantage of days like this. You feel like joining me?”

Uh, oh. Now what do I do? I wasn’t planning on having to deal with any kind of invite like that. Cautious girl rears her head—she doesn’t want to get stuck out in a boat with a guy, even a guy as nice as James.

“Uh, no thanks,” I say. “But thanks for the invite.”

“C’mon,” he says. “It’ll be fun. You’ll see.”

“The water’s awful cold,” I say, trying to find a good reason to decline.

“Of course it’s cold,” he replies, smiling. “It’s the middle of winter. It’s freezing cold. But we’re going to be
on
the water, not in it.”

“Boats have been known to tip over, you know,” I say.

His grin widens. “Yes, indeed they have,” he admits. “But not when I’m in them. I’ve been rowing boats and paddling canoes since before I could walk, almost. I guarantee I’ll keep you dry.”

His manner is so warm and friendly, it’s getting hard to resist. I haven’t been out in a boat in forever, but few times I’ve done it, I’ve enjoyed it.

“Okay,” I find myself saying. “What the heck. Let’s do it.”

“That’s the spirit,” he says. “We’ll make a go-for-it girl out of you yet.”

I don’t know about that, but at least I’m going for it right now.

Five minutes later, James is holding me gently by the elbow and helping me into the back of a small aluminum rowboat. I feel a similar current shoot through me as when he put his hand on my shoulder that night at The Joint. I wonder if he’s found another one of those nerve bundle things. Somehow, I don’t think so. Cautious girl begins to wonder if she’s made a mistake accepting his invitation. It’s too late to back out now, though.

James unties us from the dock and climbs easily into the boat, which scarcely rolls at all as he steps in. I guess he really does know what he’s doing. He sits down on the middle seat and uses one of the oars to push off from the dock. A moment later, he’s got both oars in the locks and is rowing us smoothly out onto the lake.

“So, how’s the new semester going?” James asks as he expertly pulls on the oars.

“Really good,” I reply. “My classes are all pretty interesting, except for math, so I really can’t complain. What about you?”

“I wish I could say the same,” he says. “I’ve got two classes that are real bitches. Business Law and Advanced Accounting.”

“I take it you’re a business major, then?” I ask.

“Yeah.” Somehow, he manages to shrug his shoulders without missing a beat in his rowing. “It’s not that I love business, but it seems to be the most practical major, unless you’re smart enough to do one of the computer ones.”

I guess for a guy who’s as determined as James to escape his home town, business really is a practical choice.

“If you could study anything you wanted, what would it be?” I ask.

“Environmental biology or psychology,” he answers without hesitation. “I usually choose my electives from one of them.”

“Psychology is my fav so far,” I say. “I think I might end up a psych major, though I have no idea what I’ll do with it.”

“Yeah, that was my problem,” James says. “I wanted to pick something that gives me the best chance of landing a good job when I graduate next year.”

We’ve reached the middle of the lake. James lifts the oars smoothly from the water and expertly maneuvers them into the front of the boat. We glide forward for a few seconds before slowing to a dead stop. I can smell a faint, organic odor rising up from the lake bottom.

“How’d you get so good with boats?” I ask. “You must have had a lake or something near your home.”

“Yeah, we had a big ol’ reservoir only a couple miles from our house,” he says. “My dad used to take us fishing all the time when we were young.”

“Who’s ‘us’?” I ask. “You have brothers and sisters? You mentioned one brother in the army or something.”

“Yeah, Tom. He’s the only one. He’s three years older than me.” James grins. “Don’t ever let him hear you say he’s in the army—he’s a Marine. Marines view the army as kind of like the minor leagues.”

“You must be proud of him,” I say.

He nods. “I am. Very proud. He wanted to get away from home as bad as I did, so he enlisted right after high school. He just got back from his second tour in Afghanistan.”

“Wow, that must have been scary,” I say. “For you and for him.”

“Scarier for me, I think,” James says. “Tom loved it. Says he was born to be a Marine.”

“Your Mom and Dad must really worry, though.”

“My dad’s not usually sober enough to worry about anything, except where his next drink is coming from,” James says. There’s an edge to his voice now. “And Mom died when I was eleven.”

Oops—I wasn’t expecting to hear anything like that.

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” I say sympathetically. “My mom and dad can drive me crazy, but I wouldn’t want to lose either one of them.”

“My father was okay until Mom died,” James replies a bit wistfully. “I mean, he always drank some, but after she died, things really started going downhill.”

“It must have been tough,” I say.

“It was,” he admits. “But I’m out of there now. And it’s much too beautiful out here to talk about that negative stuff.”

He’s right. It really is beautiful out here. And so peaceful, too. There’s barely a ripple on the water, and the smooth surface reflects the rolling hills and blue sky almost like a mirror. There are only four or five other boats on the lake, none of them anywhere close to us, and the sounds from the park are no more than a faint whisper in the distance. I close my eyes and tilt my head back, letting the warm sunlight caress my face. This is really nice. I’m glad I let James talk me into coming out here with him.

When I open my eyes, I find James staring at me.

“What are you looking at?” I ask, trying hard to sound like I’m teasing.

He smiles. “You look very peaceful. And very relaxed, too.”

“That’s exactly how I feel,” I tell him. “Relaxed and peaceful.”

“I take it you’re glad you came, then?” he asks.

I guess I’ll have to add mind reading to his talents.

“Oh, yeah. Definitely,” I say.

Time seems to both fly by and to stand still out on the lake. I’m not sure how that’s possible, but that’s how it feels. James and I talk non-stop for periods, and then lapse into silence for others. Both are comfortable. Nothing around us seems to change. The water remains still, the air warm. If it wasn’t for the sun crawling slowly across the sky, it would be impossible to have any idea how long we’ve been floating out here.

Apparently James has a pretty good idea, though.

“We’d better head back,” he says, stretching his arms above his head and then out to the sides. “It’s been almost two hours.”

I can’t believe it’s been two hours already. I check his wrists. He’s not wearing a watch.

“How do you know how long it’s been?” I ask. “Is that some backwoods nature boy trick?”

He laughs. “Shucks, t’ain’t no trick a’tall, ma’am,” he says in an exaggerated drawl that sounds like he just dragged himself out of some deep Appalachian valley. He holds his hand up with his thumb and finger spread about five inches apart. “When dat ol’ sun moves hisself dis far ‘cross da sky, den it’s been ‘bout two hours, sho ‘nuff.”

I can’t help laughing.

“Wouldn’t spect no city girl ta know dat, tho,” he continues.

“Stop it!” I say, laughing harder and slapping his knee playfull. “I apologize for the ‘backwoods nature boy’ comment.”

James laughs and reaches into one of his pockets, pulling out his cell phone.

“I’ve got this set to vibrate on the hour,” he explains. “It’s three o’clock.” He shoves the phone back into his pocket. “That’s my ‘backwoods nature boy’ trick. I’ll teach it to you sometime.”

I laugh again. “Thanks,” I say, “but I think I can figure that one out on my own.”

James reaches behind him and grabs the oars, then slips them into the oarlocks and begins rowing us back toward shore. I find myself feeling really sorry our little adventure is coming to an end. But end it must, and a few moments later we’re gliding up to the dock.

James judges our speed perfectly, and the boat edges up to the dock with only the slightest of thumps. He steps quickly out of the boat and ties it to a thick metal hook. I can’t believe how gracefully he does it. Once again, the boat barely rolls. I get to my feet a lot more carefully—and a lot more clumsily, I’m afraid, because the boat is rocking pretty good now.

James reaches in and takes my hand to help me out.

“Here you are,” he says as I step up onto the dock. “Safe and sound, and dry as a bone, as promised.”

A feeling of disappointment grabs me when he lets go of my hand, but the smile on his face washes the disappointment away.

“That was really fun,” I say. “Thank you.”

“Any time,” he says. “I had a great time, too.”

We walk slowly down to the end of the dock, then turn left, strolling on the grass along the shore in the direction of the park entrance. There’s a thin strip of dried mud between us and the water. I can hear the water softly lapping onto the mud. Part of me wishes he would take hold of my hand again, and part of me is terrified that he might.