A Penny's Worth (The Cephas Bourdon Series) (5 page)

“Hurry up, Hoop!” Brandon shouted from the dock. He was untying the canoe and shoving it into the water, following after Marian’s giggling allure. Chase jumped out of the truck and jogged over to the dock. I slid out of the truck, flinging my flip flops onto the ground beneath me. With the slam of the truck door, I adjusted my shorts, picked up my sandals, and began walking towards the dock. Still no Cephas. The group of young people began boarding the canoes with jovial laughter and conversation.

“Hey, Chase!” I hollered toward the dock. The tall, muscular figure turned around. His unbuttoned shirt flapped in the breeze, revealing a very defined torso. Nothing. My heart didn’t jump and my breath didn’t catch. Maybe that was just something you felt when you first met someone. My knees hadn’t ever gone weak for Chase, though. Maybe I was just being irrational.

“I’m gonna wait for whoever else might be coming. Just leave a canoe here, will ya?”

“Good idea, Emma. Meet us up by the island!” Chase shouted over his shoulder with a wave of his hand. He jumped in the boat and the party began paddling away. Their loud voices slowly faded as the boats moved farther and farther out on the vast lake.

The water sparkled in the sun and its light caught in my eyes. I blinked to clear the blinding aura as I watched a small, shining circle of light travel to the left each time my eyelids shut. A few large trees shielded the dock from the public. I walked to the shore and skimmed my bare feet through the water. A small waterfall flowed beside the private dock, hidden back in the lush green trees and shrubbery. Cold spring water flowed over moss covered rocks into the warm lake, forming a whirling warm pool with shots of cool refreshment. A large tree trunk framed one side of the small opening. I leaned carefully against the woody wall and put my hands into my pockets, looking out over the lake’s massive amounts of still water. Gentle waves crashed against the shoreline while water trickled over the rocks beside me. The still breeze that rustled my hair broke at the sound of footsteps moving quickly, but lightly, along the gravel. I turned toward the noise and saw Cephas walking around the corner. He stopped in surprise.

“I thought maybe I missed everybody,” he said, tripping over his words.

“Nah, I waited for the latecomers. There’s always a few,” I smiled. I remained leaning against the tree in an attempt to shield my sudden agitation. Blood rushed through my stomach as his eyes travel along my body and down my bare legs. His eyes snapped up and captured my gaze. I tugged at the bottom of my shorts, suddenly aware of how short they were.

“So are you waiting for anybody else?” Cephas mused, taking a seat on the dock, his legs dangling over the water. I noticed he was again wearing new basketball shoes . . . to go canoeing.

“Well, I don’t really think anyone else is coming, but we could . . . er . . . I . . . could wait another fifteen minutes.” Cephas looked up at me with a mischievous smile.

“Do you mind if I wait with you?” he joked. I laughed nervously in response. We sat in silence for a few minutes, staring at the light on the crystal clear water.

“So. Your mom went to Princeton
—
isn’t that where we left off?” Cephas asked. He always seemed to be smiling. I eyed him cautiously.

“Yeah, I guess it is.” I responded.

“So are you going to Princeton?” he asked curiously.

“Well, you have to be really smart to get accepted, but
. . .
”

“But
. . .
you are really smart
. . .
” the corner of his mouth twitched up into a smile again.

“Well
. . .
but
. . .
how would you know that?” I stammered. I had only known this guy a couple of days; how did he know so much about me already?

“I can just tell,” he replied coolly. He was lying. And why was he wearing new basketball shoes? I tilted my head without thinking, pondering on the inconsistencies I often seemed to find in our conversations.

“Ok,” he admitted. “I saw one of your test scores when I was checking into the office yesterday at school.” I think I looked shocked, because he laughed a little.

“I like to know my competition,” he argued.

“You mean to tell me you’re a basketball player with a head on your shoulders, eh?”

“Wow, that’s a little harsh, don’t you think?” He sounded offended, but his face betrayed him.

“Sorry,” I replied sheepishly. “Chase is just
. . .
” my voice trailed off with my growing embarrassment.

“So Chase is amazing at basketball but he’s not too smart, huh?” A devious smile showed in his face. “I thought he seemed relatively bright.” I laughed.

“You’re terrible, ya know,” I giggled. The air was silent for a moment, holding captive the tension that permeated our conversation

“That tree doesn’t look too comfortable,” Cephas observed, gesturing toward the seat next to him. My mouth twitched and I bit my bottom lip. I looked out over the lake nervously: Chase's canoe was nowhere in sight. If he saw me sitting next to another guy
. . .

“It’s okay. I’m a pretty nice guy.” Cephas flashed one of his irresistible smiles. I slowly walked over to the dock, sitting cautiously at a small distance. Cephas leaned back on his hands and his muscles flexed. The white undershirt he wore clung to his biceps and hung loosely over his torso. I wondered what enticing muscles loomed beneath his shirt, then reminded myself that I had a boyfriend. He looked good, too, after all, and we had fun together. But alas, none of my coy reasoning could replace that tingling sensation ever present when I was around this somehow familiar stranger. I took a deep breath and turned toward Cephas, who was actually quite close to me. He chuckled a little.

“Relax, sweetheart. I’m not going to do anything.” I rolled my eyes. Why did all men have to be so full of themselves, acting like they knew exactly what I was thinking? He did hit it head on, I suppose.

“So,” I began, trying to clear my anxious mood. “Where do you live?”

“Are you coming over later?” he asked in a cheeky tone, a smile hinting at the corner of his mouth. His smile, or start of a smile, drove me insane. Waiting for a full smile to flash across that chiseled face was like waiting for a boy to kiss you! I decided to wipe the smirk off of his face.

“Not a chance,” I shot. It worked. The smirk moved to his eyebrows that shot up in surprise.

“Never?” he asked.

“Where did you move into?” I repeated.

“Why do you ask?”

“I just saw a light on in an old house, and I was just wondering if that was where you lived.”

“Oh, well in that case, yes. I did move into the old house.”

“All by yourself?”

“Nah. I moved out here with a distant relative. My parents died a while ago.” His eyes looked distant, and I thought I saw his chin quiver slightly.

“I’m sorry,” I answered awkwardly.

“Don’t be.” His sorrow changed to a smile. “I’ve got one relative left. And now I’ve got a friend.” He nodded toward me. I smiled and nodded my acceptance with a small laugh. “Besides, I never saw my dad much anyway.”

“Why?” I asked, amazed he was sharing so much personal information. He looked away.

“Sorry, you don’t have to expound,” I added anxiously. The ability to make people feel awkward was one of my worst, though frequently manifested, abilities. Cephas was silent for a moment.

“My dad started out poor and then became very wealthy, and he spent a lot of time making it there.”

“That sounds awful.”

“Yeah, well, I can't change where I come from, only where I go.”

“That's very philosophical,” I smiled with sarcasm. “So tell me, Cephas. Where did your name come from?”

He looked down a moment, muttering something under his breath. He looked up to the left, seemingly pondering something important. His eyes softened before he replied.

“My mom.” He paused for a moment. “She loved the bible. Cephas is basically the Greek equivalent of Peter. Except
. . .
well
. . .
she didn’t like the pronunciation with an ee sound, so she changed the double e sound to a short vowel
—
Ce
-
phas.” He raised his eyebrows toward me as his feet swung nervously over the water below. “You look like you don’t believe me,” he chuckled. I surrendered a smile.

“I don't trust anybody,” I replied. “Except for my dad, that is.”

“And why do you trust him?” he asked.

“You can always trust your dad.”

Cephas looked curiously at me again.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” I asked, embarrassed but intrigued.

“I’m just trying to figure you out is all.”

“What have you got so far?” I asked, my voice slightly challenging.

“Oh, not much. I can’t put my finger on it. You don’t trust anyone, you want to go to a pretentious university, you date someone you don’t like
—
“

“Hey, now
—”
I argued. He put up the palms of his hands.

“Okay, okay. You might like your boyfriend.” A devious smile crossed his face. “But that university is definitely pretentious.”

“What else?” I asked, trying to keep a smile from my face.

“Okay,” he thought a moment. “You’re very smart
and you have lots of ambition. Y
ou’re beautiful, but you don’t think so
—”

I looked at the ground. I didn’t know whether to be offended, embarrassed, or elated at his comment. Perhaps he was right, just a little, but how dare he act like he knew me! But then, the man whose charisma made me nervous at every turn had also called me beautiful,
and my body chose its feelings. M
y cheeks flushed.

“And
—”
H
e playfully pushed up my chin. “You’re terrible at canoeing.”

My eyes widened and I lifted my face fully upright.

“What!” I laughed at the challenge. I stood defiantly and put out my hand to help him stand.

“C’mon. I don’t think anybody else is coming. Let’s head over to the island.”

Cephas took my open hand and stood. Why did he always look so entertained when he talked to me? We untied the last canoe and stepped carefully into the watercraft. Cephas picked up an oar.

“Do you know how to properly use this?” he asked, looking very serious.

“Please, enlighten me,” I responded sarcastically.

“Well, you’re in the front, so you don’t have very much control over the boat.“

“You don’t think, eh?” I interrupted.

Cephas smirked again. “So you can basically just paddle and I’ll take care of the rest.” I shook my head and grabbed the other oar.

"I was only talking about canoeing
—
no hidden meaning intended," he explained, smirking all the while.

“Just try not to drop your oar in the lake, okay,” I retorted, tucking a loose piece of hair behind my ear.

We pushed off from the dock and began the short ride to the island. The sun seared my tanned legs, reflecting off the water that splashed every so often onto my skin. Aqua water slid past the stern of the canoe, the island growing closer with each paddle stroke. The island's gradual shoreline, consisting of smooth stones and sand, provided an ideal beach if it weren't for the tall trees that jutted upward almost as soon as you stepped out of your boat. Waves were beginning to beat against the shore, chaos ruling the darkening water. The waves grew choppy, beating even against the sturdy canoe in the middle of the lake. I looked up toward the distant sky and saw hoary clouds tumbling across the blue sky. Purple and gray swirled through the cloudy whiteness and static electricity itched to escape. Thunder rolled across the lake’s surface. The foreboding clouds moved quicker and quicker toward the island and the black water crashed against its shore.

I gulped, silently hoping the clouds would disperse. My already jumpy nerves were freaking out from overstimulation
—
Cephas with his overwhelming presence, and the storm with its overpowering arrival, was all just too much. I stuck the tip of my paddle in the lake and began grazing it through the top of the water, attempting to move the canoe more quickly to the shore. Cephas must have noticed my agitation, because a light chuckle sounded behind me. I turned my head and tried to look angry, but started giggling instead.

“Don’t make fun of me!” I retorted in good humor. “I don’t know how to use this!

“Here, I’ll help ya.” Cephas got up to move toward me. I felt him come up behind me and his arms slipped around mine. My body tensed.

“Relax, I’m not gonna do anything,” he reassured me, the left corner of his mouth twitching upward. I gripped the oar, feigning ignorance at his insinuation. He pulled my right hand off and moved it in one direction, then moved my other hand farther down the oar.

“So the trick is to move slowly
—
in rhythm.” I felt his biceps flex against my slender arms as he moved the paddle
—
up, down, back,
up, down, back. “See that? Now you try.” He released my hands and sat up a little, but his proximity was still worrisome.