Thrown (13 page)

I try to think of something warm. A hot bowl of chicken soup. No I need something warmer. A bathtub full of hot water and strawberry-scented bubbles. I imagine sinking down into it and feeling the hot water on my skin. I could put my face under and let the warm water bring feeling back to my lips and cheeks. I imagine sliding beneath the strawberry bubbles.

Somewhere in the distance I hear Stoker shout my name. He sounds panicked. I don’t know why. It’s calm in the bathtub. Peaceful.

Then suddenly I’m coughing and there’s cold water in my mouth and throat and I’m being dragged out of the bathtub. No, not out of the bathtub…over the sand. The sand of the beach. Stoker has me by the arm and he’s pulling me out of the sea. I feel so cold. He sets me down on the sand and I balance precariously on my hands and knees while I cough and splutter and spit the salty water from my mouth.

Stoker is standing above me, hands on his hips while he tries to catch his breath.

‘I’m sorry,’ I manage to say.

‘Nearly lost you there. I’m sorry Amy. I should never have taken you out so far.’

‘I can handle it. It was just so cold.’

He disappears for a moment then comes back with our stuff from the rocks. He drapes my towel over me.

‘When you’re ready, we can get in the car and I’ll put the heater on.’

I get up shakily. ‘I’m ready.’

He takes my hand and we head for the car.

‘I feel like such an idiot,’ he says.

‘You feel like an idiot? I’m the one who almost drowned. You saved my life. Thank you.’

‘You wouldn’t have been out there in the first place if it wasn’t for me.’

‘I enjoyed it. Really. It’s just the last part that could have been better.’

He laughs but I can see he’s shaken by what happened. He helps me into the car, putting my towel around me before closing the door and getting in himself. He twists the air temperature dial to its maximum heat setting and puts the fan on full blast.

He starts the engine but before he drives away from the secret cove, he says, ‘Promise me something, Amy.’

‘What?’

‘That you’ll choose where we go on our next date.’

I smile. ‘I’m sure I can handle that. I promise.’

He gives me a little kiss then puts the car into gear and heads back to the main road.

CHAPTER TEN

Reserved

Amy

I open the front door and say, ‘Wow! Don’t you look amazing?’

Stoker stands there in a dark blue suit with a crisp white shirt underneath and a powder blue tie. He’s arranged his hair into a sort of side-parting and he’s even wearing black shoes instead of his usual boots.

In his hands is a bouquet of flowers. He hands them to me and shuffles his feet like he’s embarrassed.

‘Thank you! Lilies, my favorite. Well come in, don’t stand out there on the porch. I’m almost ready.’

‘You look amazing, Amy.’

I’m wearing a brand new black dress along with a thin black cardigan that covers my upper arms nicely that I got from a store in Penzance. I took a drive out there to see something more than Promise Cove for a change. I smile and say, ‘Thanks. I just need to get my earrings.’ I go up to my room and hunt through my jewellery box for my best pair of gold earrings.

After our adventure at the Cave of the Mermaid, I was going to suggest going to Pierre Moir’s, a fancy restaurant just outside of Promise Cove, for our second date. But because Promise Cove is so small, our second date turned out to be lunch in one of the Italian places on Main Street after I bumped into Stoker just as I was closing the shop for a break.

Then our third date was coffee and cake in Sarah’s after we crossed paths there one morning.

Our fourth date happened when I saw Stoker on the beach one morning painting the cliffs and rocks he had wanted to paint when I ran into him before. This time I let him paint and I sat on the sand and watched him. When he was done, he handed me the painting and told me it was a gift from him to me. I hung it up in the kitchen where I would see it every morning as I ate breakfast.

Our fifth date was a burger at a fast food chain after Stoker called me just as I was about to close for the evening, saying he was hungry.

And our sixth date consisted of Chinese takeaway which we ate on the floor of Promise Books after closing time.

So four weeks later we finally get to go to Pierre Moir’s for our seventh date. I got Stoker to make a reservation and when he told me the place had a reputation for being expensive, I assured him I was worth it.

He told me he was going to come suitably attired but I didn’t know he’d look this great in a suit. I can’t wait to go to the swankiest restaurant around with the hunkiest guy I’ve ever met.

I put the earrings in and go back downstairs. Stoker is waiting in the hallway looking uncomfortable in his smart clothes but deliciously adorable nonetheless.

‘You could have had a seat in the living room,’ I say.

‘No, it’s OK. I don’t mind waiting here.’

‘Silly boy.’

We get in the Astra and he turns right into the cliff road. ‘Where are we going again?’

‘You know where. And don’t worry about the cost, we’ll go dutch.’

‘OK, that sounds fair. I did buy you that pasta in Luigi’s that lunchtime after all.’

‘Oh, really? And I bought you coffee and a big slice of walnut cake in Sarah’s.’

‘I’m sure this place is very nice. I’m just not sure I’ll fit in there.’

‘Don’t worry about it. You look hot. Every waitress will be swooning.’

‘I don’t want every waitress to be swooning, I just want you to be swooning.’

‘I’m swooning, believe me.’

*

Pierre Moir’s restaurant is attached to a five star hotel called Le Chambre and it’s visited by the top business men and women and their associates. I feel a little hesitant myself as we pull into the parking lot and see the opulent chrome and glass building which seems out of place in this area but has been built away from the towns for just that reason.

It’s like a country club and has its own golf course and horse riding facilities. When I chatted with customers in the bookshop and told them I was going to eat at Pierre Moir’s, none of the had ever been here but they had all heard how wonderful the place was.

Stoker finds a spot to park the car. His little Astra seems out of place among the Jaguars and high-spec sports cars. We link arms and head for the restaurant entrance. ‘I hope they don’t discover we’re just country bumpkins,’ Stoker says through the side of his mouth as we approach the door.

I giggle and he holds the door open for me. Inside there’s soft jazz piano playing, not from speakers but from an actual pianist sitting at a grand piano on the far side of the room. There’s a low hum of chatter and the place is very busy. Everyone is dressed up.

The smell of food makes my stomach rumble with anticipation. I didn’t eat lunch today because I knew we were coming here. It’s eight thirty now and I am hungry enough to eat one of the tables.

The maitre d comes over smiles at us. ‘Good evening. What name is it, please?’

‘Stoker.’

‘Merci.’ He consults a list and says, ‘Right this way, please.’

He shows us to a table at the edge of the room, and holds out my chair for me. I sit and he unfolds our napkins, placing them on our laps. ‘May I get you the wine list?’

‘Yes, please,’ I say.

Stoker is about to object but I throw him a glance. The Maitre d says,

‘A waiter will be with you shortly,’ and leaves.

‘I can’t have wine, I’m driving.’

‘True. I agree. No drinking and driving.’

‘So you’re going to have a glass of wine while I’m on soft drinks all night? Great.’ He sticks out his tongue at me.

‘No, we’re going to have a bottle between us.’

‘But I just said I won’t drink and drive.’

‘Very commendable. I agree.’

‘What’s going on, Amy?’

I laugh, unable to keep my secret in any longer. ‘Well you made us reservations for the restaurant, right?’

‘Yes.’

‘And I made us reservations for the hotel.’

‘What? Really?’

I nod. ‘We aren’t in any hurry to get back. And tomorrow is Sunday so we aren’t even in a hurry to get back in the morning.’

‘You are sneaky with your little secrets. How much is the room?’

‘Let’s just say you’d better be worth it.’

He grins and takes my hand over the table. ‘I really…I’ve really loved being with you, Amy.’

‘You make it sound like it’s all over. Is there something I should know?’

He laughs. ‘No, I’m just having a great time.’

‘Me too, Stoker.’

The waiter appears with the wine list. Stoker looks down it and says,

‘How about an Asti Spumante?’

‘Err…OK?’

‘It’s a sparkling white Italian wine. You’ll like it. It’s fizzy and sweet like you.’

I laugh. ‘Fizzy and sweet, huh? Sure, let’s try it.’

*

The meal was delicious. I had sea bass with potatoes and vegetables and Stoker had steak with fries. The Asti Spumante was lovely. Stoker had been right, I did like it. We skipped dessert, both if us saying we were full but really I think we were both ready to go to our room.

Stoker slides the keycard into the slot and pushes open the door. The lights come on automatically and we step inside.

‘Oh my God.’

The room is huge, more like a suite. There’s a lounge area with a plush sofa and easy chair and a flatscreen TV on the wall. There’s a fireplace with little fake logs behind a glass screen and a computer on a desk.

The bedroom has a four poster bed which is probably the largest bed I have ever seen in my life. It’s not only large, it’s high and I think I’m going to have to climb up into it.

The mini bar is in the bedroom, as well as a small glass-fronted refrigerator that has soft drinks and a drink-making station with a kettle and tea and coffee.

A door off the lounge leads to the bathroom, which has a jacuzzi, a bathtub and a separate shower. The toilet is in its own separate room.

‘This place is amazing,’ Stoker says. ‘Let’s live here.’ He takes off his jacket and drapes it over the back of a chair. He looks so good in the white shirt and blue tie and dark trousers.

‘As tempting as that sounds, I don’t think we can afford it. You should see what it costs for just one night.’

‘Like I said, if you want me to pay…’

‘No, I don’t. And like I said, you’d better be worth it.’

He smiles and goes to the mini bar. ‘Drink?’

‘No, I’m good.’ And I am good. Considering what we’re about to do I feel amazingly relaxed. We both know our relationship has come to this point. It just feels so natural.

But there is still one small hurdle to get over. One last thing that could make or break tonight. I do feel nervous about that. Maybe I should get it over with otherwise it’s going to be hanging over me.

I turnout the main lights and turn on the lamp on the nightstand. It makes the room gloomy but that’s how I need it to be if I’m going to do this.

Stoker looks at me as if he’s about to say something then sees my face and thinks better of it. ‘What’s up, Amy?’

‘I need to talk to you. I need to show you…I…I need to tell you something. Before any of…this.’ I gesture to the bed.

‘OK. You can tell me anything, you know that.’

I kick of my shoes and climb up onto the bed, kneeling there hugging myself. This is so going to turn him off me but I can’t sleep with him and then have him find out later. Sure we could turn the lights out but what about when morning comes? I could wear something to cover my arms but isn’t that a lie? I have to tell him before we sleep together. It’s only fair.

He climbs onto the facing me. ‘What is it, Amy. Is it that you’re a…

virgin?’

‘No, I’m not a virgin.’ One time. With Martin Classman. I thought that if I slept with him I would finally feel something like lust or love.

Wrong.

‘What is it then?’ He reaches out and his hand cups my cheek. I feel like crying. If he can’t handle this, it will be too big a thing for us to get over. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me and I don’t want to lose him. I can’t handle losing him.

He notices my hesitation and says, ‘Hey, Amy, whatever it is it can’t be that bad.’

A tear falls unbidden from my left eye and rolls down my cheek and over his hand. ‘It is,’ I say.

‘Take your time,’ he says, ‘we have all the time in the world.’

But all the time in the world wouldn’t heal the scars on my arms. I’m permanently damaged. Ugly forever.

I take a deep breath and begin. ‘When I was born, my mom and dad and Aunt B all lived together in Promise House. It was plenty big enough for all of us and although my mom and dad weren’t married, we all lived as one big family. Mom and Aunt B ran the bookshop and Dad worked selling computer systems to big companies and managing the projects to install the systems and train the staff.

‘When I was five, he got a really great job offer from Boston to go work in America. He took it. There were a lot of arguments in the house at that time, some of them I can remember, because Mom didn’t want to live abroad and leave her sister. Eventually she relented and we emigrated to America. She loved my dad and she couldn’t stand the thought of them being apart and me being without a father.

‘Things were good for five years…or at least they seemed to be good.

Dad’s job was great and I did well at school, even though I was always a misfit. Mom made a lot of friends and she even taught an English Lit class at a night school.

‘When I was ten, my dad left us. He just went and left us. My mom didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t come back here because she didn’t want to disrupt my schooling so she got a job at the power company in the offices. After he left, my emotions became suppressed to such a degree that I found it hard to feel anything. It was probably some safety mechanism inside me…don’t have any emotions and you can’t get hurt.

Ut I started to live my life with a numbness inside.

‘Two years later, we heard that my dad had been hit by a drunk driver and killed instantly. On that day, I went out into our street and I knew I should feel something. My father had just been killed and I was standing outside feeling nothing. No sadness, no pain. That safety mechanism inside me wouldn’t let me experience anything.