Hell in a Handbasket - The Journey (13 page)

“Hi.” I smiled at him, proud of myself for being able to
keep my hands to myself.

And he just sat there.
This cute boy with
a look of pure bliss on his face.

“Hello?” I tilted my head in an attempt to bring him out of
his stupor.

“Uh…My mother says I shouldn’t talk to strangers.”

With a smile as wide as the Grand Canyon, I reached out my
hand for a handshake.

“Hi, I’m Maeve.”

Still, he sat there, and just blinked. I was beginning to
wonder about his mental faculties. I knew if my mother knew I was thinking such
things she would have given me a lecture on how each person is special in their
own way, and yet we are all equal, and that I shouldn’t judge someone because I
don’t know their story.

“And you are?” I actually arched my neck in the hopes of
getting him to talk to me. After all, he was the one who came over here to sit
with me.

“Oh, um…Dylan.”
He shuffled something from his right hand to his left, and
then reached over, and shook my hand.

“Well Dylan, we’re not strangers anymore. You can talk to
me anytime, about anything.” I gave him a smile that my mother swore was one
day going to rock the world.

He sat there, blinking a few times before he drew his hand
out of mine.

“Yeah, I guess we’re not strangers anymore.” More blinking
as he continued to look at me like he couldn’t figure something out.

“Fantastic.” I smiled, and turned to look back at the
water. “It’s beautiful here, don‘t you think?”

“Yes.”
His voice barely above a whisper.

I glanced sideways at him, unable to tell if he was talking
about the view of the lake or something else.

We sat there in silence, enjoying the peace and serenity
around us, for a while longer.

He startled me when he suddenly jumped up. He ran his right
hand through his hair and with a nervous look that said he might get sick soon,
he thrust his left hand at me.

“Here.”
 
There was a
silent plea in his eyes that made the butterflies in my tummy flutter.

I reached up with my right hand, palm up. He placed a small
folded piece of paper into my hand, and took off running back up to camp at a
real break-neck speed. I watched him, wondering where the fire was.

I glanced back at the piece of paper in my hand. It was a
note…a note with a simple comment. I reached into my new purse, took out the pen
my father had gotten me for my birthday, and I wrote my reply.

Taking a deep breath, I got up from the log to find the
cute, shy boy who had apparently, for the first time, stepped outside of his
comfort zone. And he deserved to be rewarded for his efforts.

We had spent the rest of that day, and part of the next
passing that same note. His shyness amazed me. Living with my parents, who are
free lovers, and free thinkers, I didn’t really understand people who were shy,
who were apprehensive about just being themselves. He was so scared, afraid to
take risks, yet for me he was trying, and that to me made all the difference in
the world.

* * * *

I glanced back at Ryder. Confusion fogged my brain, and the
tears threatened to fall. I spied the note with utter disbelief. The words
starting to swim as more tears gathered. I attempted to read the words,
emotions I had forgotten or forced away slammed into me. I gave up trying to
hold back the tears, and they fell, hard.

I think you are the prettiest girl at camp.

Thank you. I think you’re cute too!

Really?

Yes!!!

I was wondering if you
would like to sit with me at tonight’s
movie?

I’d like that.

The movie was so lame.
I’m sorry my friends are jerks.

Thanks! I like you and I was wondering if you
like me too?

I struggled to gain some decorum of composure. I didn’t
understand how or why Ryder had this note, or how he knew that one of the
writers of this note was me.

“How, when, who?”
I struggled with the words and what his having this note
might possibly mean.

“Turn it over.” Ryder’s soft voice filled me with
a warmth
I hadn’t felt since the day we first met at the
airport lobby.

Turning the note over, I read—

Yes, I like you a lot.

“How, when, who?”
I tried again.

Ryder smiled as he reached
up,
cupping my face with both hands, and softly wiped the tears from my face with
the pads of his thumbs.
“One thing at a time.
Sweetheart, that’s my note.”

“No, the boy’s name was
Dylan,
I
remember very clearly, his name was Dylan.”

“Dylan is my middle name. Dylan is me, I was that boy.” His
smile never faltered as his eyes pleaded with me to understand.

“But, why?
Why keep this note after all these years?”

“Look at me Maeve, do I look or even act like that shy,
scared kid?”

“No, but I still don’t understand…”

“You Maeve, You’re the reason…” he fanned his arm out to
span the entire lobby, “You were the catalyst that pulled me out of my shell.
After that day in summer camp, after you left, all that I had left of you, to
remember you by was that note.” He nodded in the direction of the piece of
paper still in my hand. “You have no idea how much you changed my life that
summer. I was awkward and shy and afraid to take chances. You taught me that to
get what you
want,
you have to take chances, to take
risks. Your belief that you have to take risks to get what you want, changed me
and made me the man I am today. So, technically, all of this is because of
you.”

“Uh…I convinced you to be a stalker? I don’t think so…” I
shook my head in disbelief.

Ryder chuckled and reminded me just how hard it was for me
to think around him. “No Maeve, not a stalker. When your name came across my
desk, I was surprised that after all of these years, I may have found you
again. I wasn’t sure if it was you. Your writing didn’t seem to fully encompass
the girl I remembered from camp. So I had to make sure before I made a fool of
myself.”

“But you just said that I helped you learn to take risks.
How is stalking me and not being up front taking risks?”

“You taught me to take risks with my life, yes. But I was
afraid of losing you again. I wasn’t prepared to take that risk.”

“Oh.”

“So tell me Maeve, what happened? How did you change so
drastically from the girl at camp?”

“That last day, when they called my name over the loud
speaker…to go to the guidance office, was when I found out my parents had died
in a plane crash…and that my grandmother was coming to pick me up…so that I
could move in with her. The trauma of losing both parents, the shock of moving
in with Gram, was just too much for me. Gram was so different than my parents,
they were such free spirits…and Gram was so very religious. A real Southern
Baptist Lady. And she didn’t approve of anything my parents had taught
me,
of the way they had raised me. She was very strict and
worked very hard to turn me into a younger version of herself.”

“Then how did you end up writing adult romances?” He cocked
one eyebrow at me. But his expression was one of compassion and concern, not
disapproval like Gram always had when she cocked only one eyebrow. It was such
a cool
move,
I wish I could do it.

“My father was a writer, and he had hoped I would follow in
his footsteps. Gram wasn’t very supportive of that career choice. She didn’t
really like my dad. She blamed him for turning my mother so far from her
upbringing, and for ultimately taking her away.” My smile was weak and thin.

“So what happened to your grandmother?”

“She passed a little over three years ago.” I dipped my
head as more tears fell.

Ryder gently lifted my head as he continued to stroke my
face, wiping away the new tears. “Maeve, sweetheart, I am so sorry that you had
to go through that. One of the things I learned on the journey you helped me
start is that everything happens for a reason. You helped me come out of my
shell, and now I want to do the same for you, if you’ll let me.”

“Although I understand why you did what you did, I really
do think that you should have started with the note, and went from there.” I
glanced up into those hypnotic green eyes of his, and felt my heart start to
falter and flutter.

“If I had started with the note, tell me you wouldn’t have
thought of me as that shy boy from camp. You were no longer the girl who was so
sure of herself that she made the view by the lake pale in comparison. You
needed me to be the person for you that you once were for me. And that person
was someone who would rock your very foundation, so that you could rebuild you.
And that person was Ryder, not Dylan.”

I blinked heavily as I took in his words. They rang true,
and besides every time I get near him, I can’t seem to think clearly anyways. I
smiled, clutched the note closer to me with my right hand. I lifted up my left
hand, and handed him back the box.

Ryder’s smile beamed quickly, and was so amazing it could
have stopped time. With his right hand, he gently took the box from me, wrapped
his left arm around me and pulled me close.

He dipped his head and brought his face close to mine. He
was so close I could smell his shampoo and aftershave. A deep woodsy, manly
scent,
and I felt my head spin with anticipation, yet he
didn’t move any closer. He held his position and I glanced up at him, expecting
him to move closer, expecting him to kiss me. But he didn’t move. Not closer,
nor back away. He waited.

My heart was pounding. After everything I had just gone
through in a little over a week, I really wanted that kiss.

I waited, and still he didn’t move. I couldn’t take it
anymore. I leaned up, and kissed him hard. It was urgent, demanding and hungry,
and he pulled away from me. I looked up at him confused. He smiled that smile
that had me forgetting my name, and leaned down just out of my reach, and
kissed me softly, barely touching my lips. I tried to reach up and make him
kiss me harder, and he pulled away. I blinked, confused. He leaned down again,
still just out of my reach, and brushed my mouth with his. Once again I tried
to make him kiss me harder, and once again he pulled away. Hell in a hand
basket, there was that smile again.

I vaguely heard someone start to cough. It got louder and
more insistent.

Ryder looked up and I followed his gaze, over to Ms.
Bonner.

“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t mean to interrupt. I just thought
you might want to take your meeting to someplace a little more private.” Ms.
Bonner had a look on her face that was an odd mixture of shock and amusement.

“Yes, Ms. Bonner, you are absolutely correct.” Ryder looked
like a little kid who had been caught running down the hall at school.

* * * *

Ryder looked to me with a look on his face that belied his
worry that I might disappear again. "Maeve, I asked you the last time you
were here, if you would like to see my office?"

"The one with all of the monitors in
it?"
I cocked my head at him,
trying to convey that I had no intentions of running away this time.

Ryder's soft smile turned into a full-blown grin.
"Yes, Maeve, that would indeed be the one."

"Then yes, I think I would like to see it." I
grinned back at him.

“Um Maeve, I
understand your attachment to the note, I’ve had that same attachment. I don’t
want it to get messed up. Let’s put it back in the box and you can keep it in
your purse.”

I didn’t realize
I had such a death grip on that tiny little piece of paper, until I released my
grip to hand the note back to Ryder. He took the note from me, carefully folded
the note as though he had done it numerous times before, before placing it back
into its resting place inside the fragile box. With the smile that started all
of this, he handed me the box, which I carefully placed inside of my purse. I
was so much more careful with the box now that I knew what precious cargo it
held.

Chapter Nine

I felt a little awkward, especially when Ryder placed his
hand on my lower back and steered me toward the left side of the receptionist’s
desk and down a short wide corridor. We approached a set of heavy mahogany
doors. His name was on a plaque in gold lettering attached to the door.