Better Deeds Than Words (Words#2) (51 page)

Poppet
. In red letters, outlined in silver. My heart lurched, the word
commitment
swimming before my eyes. He’d named his boat after me!

“Wow. I’m speechless. That’s so…”

“Perfect,” he said, smiling as he held out his hand to help me aboard.

I stood in the middle of the boat, listening as Daniel pointed out the raised helm seat, the frameless side windows, the benefits of the single-level cockpit floor, and the flat panel. We went down to the cabin where he drew my attention to the lifejacket cubbyhole and the lounge seating which converted into a small sleeper berth. There were compact bathroom facilities, a galley with flip-up extension, and the stainless steel integrated hardware, whatever that meant. My head was spinning. When he started rattling on about the fuel capacity, I zoned out entirely.

At some point, he noticed the glazed look in my eyes. “Sorry, I’m boring you.”

“No, it’s just a lot to take in. I didn’t know you knew so much about boats.”

“Are you kidding me? When someone gives me a nickname, I go out of my way to
own
it!”

I grinned at him and crossed my arms. “Very funny, sailor.”

For the next half hour, Daniel toured me around the lake, showing me the neighboring cottages, some of which made the Grants’ cottage look modest by comparison. He sat at the helm, and I stood beside him, my hand on his shoulder as he drove. He let me steer and explained the different dials on the flat panel. As we made our way back past their cottage and rounded the small peninsula, he reclaimed the wheel and expelled a quiet whistle.

“Look.” He gestured across the lake.

The sun was beginning to set over the line of trees on the other side of the lake. It was breathtaking.

“Gosh, that is so beautiful.”

Daniel slowed the boat and shifted in his seat, pulling me to stand sideways between his legs.

“I’m so glad you appreciate things like this,” he said, tucking my hair behind my ear.

“How could I not? Look at that.” I stretched my arm around his shoulders. We both turned to watch the clouds creeping across the sky.

“I love these kinds of sunsets,” he said. “It’s as if the clouds are paintbrushes. See the way they seem to dip into the setting sun to pull out the colors and then dab them across the sky?” He lifted his hand to trace a line across the horizon. “Orange, pink, purple. It’s incredible.”

“That was a really beautiful description,” I said, leaning into him.

Daniel took my hand in his and looked at me earnestly. “I know you love mornings and sunrises, but those belong to you and your dad. Sunsets can be ours, okay?”

I swallowed hard, trying to chase away the lump that formed in my throat, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness and concern for my feelings.

He scanned the horizon once more and turned off the engine. “I think this is the perfect spot,” he said. He slipped out of his chair and led me to the cushioned bench at the side of the boat. “Sit here for a sec.”

He disappeared inside the small cabin and came back out with his guitar. I clenched my hands together excitedly.

“You brought it! You’re going to play something? Out here?”

His eyes twinkled as he smiled at me. “Yep.”

He reached into his pocket and found a guitar pick which he placed between his teeth. He fished around in his other pocket, withdrawing a piece of folded paper and handing it to me. I opened it.

“What’s this?” I looked down at the page. “Daniel, this is a Pablo Neruda poem. I
love
Pablo Neruda.”

He chuckled. “I know. I’ve been picking Julie’s brain. She told me he’s one of your favorites. She said you two became friends in first year working on a group project in a poetry class.”

“Julie told me once that if she could marry a poem, it would probably be one of Neruda’s. I think she also found a poem she wanted to make babies with. As soon as she said that, I knew we’d be great friends.”

“Oh, really? You can identify with wanting to procreate with pieces of literature?”

I laughed. “No, just with her sense of humor. Anyway, he’s a very passionate writer.
This
poem is lovely. It’s a paraphrase though—a translation. You know he didn’t actually write this?”

“Really?” Daniel looked taken aback. “No, I didn’t know that. What’s it a translation of?”

“Have you ever heard of Rabindranath Tagore?”

“Tagore? That rings a vague bell.”

“He was the first non-European to win the Nobel Prize for literature. He wrote a beautiful collection of poetry and prose called
The Gardener
. ‘In My Sky at Twilight’ paraphrases the thirtieth poem in the collection.”

“Huh. Well, look at that. There’s something else you’ve taught me today.” He winked. “I’ll have to look that up when we get home. Sounds like something I’d enjoy,” he said. “Right now, though,
this
is what you need to look at.”

He settled his guitar on his lap comfortably and tapped the loose paper with Neruda’s poem. I looked up at him expectantly.

“I, well, I put it to music for you.”

“Daniel, you didn’t!”

He chuckled. “I did. Now, go easy on me. I’m a nervous wreck. I’ve been practicing, but I have a feeling it’ll be different playing it with you sitting there.”

I covered my mouth as he took a deep breath and began to finger-pick the strings. Right away, I recognized this as the song he’d been playing this morning when I’d come across him in the great room. When he started to sing, I wasn’t sure what to watch—his lips or his fingers. Both were mesmerizing.

His voice soft and husky, and I shook my head in disbelief. What a romantic and thoughtful gesture. Plus, he’d gone to the trouble of choosing a poet
I
liked. His voice became stronger as he moved through the verses, his eyes closing when he reached the third verse in which the poet celebrated finally being able to call the object of his desire his own.

Then I understood.

You are mine.

That’s why he’d said those words in the middle of the night.

By the time Daniel had finished playing, my heart was full and my eyes were teary. He gave me a half-smile and rested his guitar against the door of the cabin.

“I didn’t think my singing was
that
bad,” he said, inviting me into his arms and rocking me gently.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re awesome. That’s the sweetest, most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me.” I sniffed and rubbed my hands across my cheeks.

“It was a labor of love, believe me.”

“I understand now why you were talking in your sleep.”

“I worked on it neurotically all week, so it’s not surprising the song’s words were running through my head at all hours.” He brushed my hair out of my eyes. “Is it okay with you if I say you’re mine? I can’t wait to tell the world.”

“Of course. And I get to tell everyone you’re mine, too, right?” I asked, tightening my hands around his neck.

“You know I’m yours. All yours.”

“Daniel, does this mean we’re going together?”

His laugh echoed around the lake.

“I haven’t heard that expression in years. Going together, eh? Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere. Everywhere. I don’t care. Timmy’s was great. The grocery store? Now
that
was amazing.”

“I can’t wait to walk with you everywhere at U of T, just holding your hand.” He gazed over my shoulder at the sky. “I’m not sure how things are going to work once we get home. I guess we’ll figure it out as we go along.”

“I’m not worried,” I assured him. “We did the right thing, Daniel. I’m glad we waited.”

His eyes sparkled, and he looked so happy. I tried to memorize the expression on his face, wishing I could preserve it—something to bring to mind at low moments. I don’t think I’d ever felt more at peace.

“And thank you for the song. It was beautiful.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you liked it.”

I weaved my hands through his hair and kissed him the way he’d kissed me the night before—not as a prelude to sex, but as a wordless whisper aimed at your lover’s heart. Kissing because you simply can’t think of another way to show your love for the man you adore.

“See, if you’d done that to me back in February, I would have been completely snookered,” he said, his smile softening as he pulled away.

I grinned, remembering how he’d jokingly referred to kissing as his Achilles’ heel. He wrapped his arms around me, and we watched the sun slip behind the tree line, neither of us moving as the amber glow gradually faded. It was truly beautiful. But then, with the sun gone, the evening air cooled almost instantly. I shivered, dreading the return to reality. I wanted to stay here with Daniel forever. As if he could read my thoughts, he kissed my head and sighed.

“Well, poppet, I hate to do this, but we should probably head back. It’s past eight o’clock.”

“Are you talking to me or the boat? Man, this is so confusing.” I rolled my eyes playfully.

“Very funny, but at this rate we won’t be back in Toronto until eleven or so. You have to work in the morning, remember.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” I grumbled.

He looked at me pointedly. “So…quit.”

“
Daniel.
”

“What? I don’t see why you feel the need to torture yourself. But that’s just my opinion. Ignore me.”

“Don’t be like that,” I said, nuzzling his neck.

“I’m not being like anything,” he said, his tone softening. “I wish you’d give your notice and let me take care of you, that’s all. Maybe everyone else has left you to fend for yourself, but that doesn’t mean I plan to. Tell Armstrong to shove the damn job and take some time for yourself. When you’re ready, you can start thinking about a
real
job—a career—something that might actually mean something to you instead of subjecting yourself to that cow. You told me you’d let me catch you, but you’re not letting me.”

A flurry of retorts formed in my mind.

You can’t catch someone unless they actually fall.

I can take care of myself.

Stop treating me like a damsel in distress.

“Maybe Armstrong won’t be that bad.” I struggled to maintain a casual tone, reluctant to end our weekend combatively.

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t get me wrong, I applaud your positive attitude. But spending five minutes in her company on Friday night was enough to last me a good long while. She’s a condescending, patronizing, superior bitch.”

I held my hand up to my ear, as if I were talking on the phone. “Yes, Department of Redundancy Department? I’d like to report an infraction.”

He laughed shortly. “Yes, I guess those words
do
all mean the same thing. But that’s my point. There aren’t
enough
words to describe how haughty she is.”

“Oh, so now she’s a hottie?” I said, tapping my chin contemplatively.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Haughty…H—A—U…”

“I know, I’m just—”

“You’re just avoiding talking seriously about the topic.”

He sighed, climbing back into the helm seat and restarting the engine. I moved back to join him, and he circled my waist with one arm while steering with the other, bringing the boat back around the peninsula toward the cottage.

“Okay,” he said, patting my butt. “Hold on to me. I don’t want you to get jolted or fall if the boat lists or bumps into something as I’m pulling in.”

I wrapped an arm tightly around his back, widening my stance to better my balance as he confidently steered the boat. I wasn’t jolted. I didn’t fall. And even if the boat had listed or bumped into something, I’m sure Daniel would have been there, catching me before I’d even had a chance to stumble.