Island Girl (14 page)

Read Island Girl Online

Authors: Lynda Simmons

BOOK: Island Girl
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“Almost,” I said, and had to smile myself when he merely nodded, pretending not to be overjoyed.
“Then would you like to have dinner in the city?” he asked.
“I don’t see why not.” I picked up his water bottle, pressed it to the back of my neck, and gasped at the sudden shock of cold against my skin. I let it rest there a moment longer, savoring the shiver that ran through my body, before setting the offending plastic back on the table. “I think the Bobs would really enjoy it.”
“I wasn’t going to invite them. Or anyone else.” He flipped up the lid on my steel bottle, emptied the plastic one into it, and set it down in front of me again. “Let me take you to dinner, Ruby. Just the two of us.”
“Definitely not.” But I did take a welcome sip of water. “Having dinner together would make it look like I’ve forgiven you, and I haven’t.”
“How long before you do?”
“Hard to say.” I put the container down, picked up the pen instead. “First I have to get Liz to come home, and then I have to figure out my exit route. Once I’ve completed both of those tasks, I’m sure I’ll forgive you everything.” I opened the notebook and tapped the pen on the page. “As you can see, I’m still researching poisons, although I’m also considering bungee jumping, parachuting, and hiring a hit man. A hit man could work, but it would be expensive. Cars, however, offer a variety of alternatives.” I glanced over at him. “Was that your SUV earlier?”
“Forget it. I’m not going to let you wreck my car.”
“And it would be rude of me to ask. Besides, an accident isn’t always fatal. What I have in mind requires a garage. And a hose. Do you happen to have either of those?”
“Ruby, stop.”
“Why? Does it make you uncomfortable? Then perhaps you should get back to the party because this is what I’ll be working on for the rest of the break. But thanks for these.” I snapped a grape off the bunch and popped it into my mouth. “They’re delicious.”
“If you think those are good, you should try the pineapple. And just so you know, your notes don’t make me uncomfortable at all.”
“That’s wonderful.” I went back to my list. Wrote
CARBON MONOXIDE
in letters big enough for him to read from where he sat. “Perhaps you can help me out then, offer some suggestions, something I might have missed.”
“Not off the top of my head. But a hit man does make sense, plus it adds a bit of fun to the plan. When will he strike? How will he do it? Could be exciting, and I could help out with expenses if you need it.”
I put the pen down. “Are you serious?”
“Are you kidding?” He picked up my pen and slipped it into the pocket of his polo shirt. “The whole idea is ridiculous. But now that you’ve put the pen down, let’s call a truce for the five minutes that are left.” He rose and held out a hand. “Come sit in the shade with me.”
“Not a chance.” I snatched the pen back and underlined
CARBON MONOXIDE
.
“In fact, I’m not speaking to you at all now.”
“Suit yourself.” He sat down again and popped a grape into his mouth. “I’ll just sit here and watch. Point out spelling errors. Like that one there—”
“Don’t you dare. And don’t speak to me either.”
“Okay. Just one last thing and then I’ll shut up.” He poked a finger in my ribs and grinned. “Gotcha last.”
Gotcha last
. I hadn’t thought of that game in ages. Certainly hadn’t played it since he left. But I remembered it well enough now. I bent my head over my list. “I’m not playing.”
“Even better, because that means I win.”
“You can’t win if no one else is playing.”
“Says who?”
“Says everyone. Now stop talking so I can think.”
“Sure.” He poked me again. “But I definitely win.”
Mary Anne and the Bobs walked past the table. “We’re going to the ladies’ room,” she said. “Well, some of us are.” She paused, looking from me to Mark and back again. “What are you two up to over here, anyway?”
“Gotcha last,” he said, at the same time as I said, “Nothing.”
Mary Anne and the Bobs smiled. “Who’s winning?” she asked.
“I am,” Mark said.
“He is not,” I insisted. He poked me again and I slapped at his hand.
“He’s definitely winning,” the Bobs agreed as the three of them walked away.
“This is silly,” I said.
Mark smiled. “So why don’t you just admit defeat and the whole thing will all be over.”
“I am not admitting defeat.” He poked me again. “Fine.” I reached over and punched him on the arm. “Got you—”
He poked me again. “Last,” he said.
“Oh no you don’t.” I punched him and jumped up, staying out of reach. “I got you last and now it’s over.” He stood up and I took another step back, knocking over the chair. “Mark, I mean it. The game is over.”
He came a step closer. “Says who?”
“Says me.” I took another step back, a smile coming to my lips. Every cell in my body suddenly alert, awake.
“I don’t think so.” He lunged and I leapt to the right. He lunged again, got me this time. “Dammit, Mark.”
“Gotcha last,” he said, and started to stroll away, back to the canopy.
“Not bloody likely,” I yelled, and darted after him. Jumped up, tapped him on the head, and kept on running. “Gotcha last!” I called over my shoulder and felt my stomach leap when he came after me. “Stop it!” I hollered, and kept running, around the canopy, back to the table. Around the table, back to the canopy, with Mark on my heels the whole way.
I started to laugh, I couldn’t help it. “Stop him,” I called to the canopy party, but they only laughed as we went round the chairs a third time. Then he stopped abruptly, picked up a chair, and came straight through the middle. “No fair!” I yelled, and dashed out into the line of taxis. I was still laughing, needing to stop, to catch my breath, but that would mean he’d get me last and I couldn’t let that happen.
Round the taxis, round the limos, the two of us laughing, stumbling, finally stopping, one car apart. Bending over, sides aching. “Admit I won,” I gasped. “Admit it.”
“Never,” he roared, and this time I was too slow off the mark. He had me before I knew it. Picked me right up off the ground and threw me over his shoulder. Carried me back to the grass. Taxi drivers honked, the canopy party cheered, and I was still laughing when he finally sat me down on the table. He put one hand on either side of me, trying to catch his breath as he pressed his nose against mine and announced, “Gotcha last. Game over. I win.”
“Okay, okay, you win,” I said, giggling and gasping for air while my hands searched for water. He handed me the bottle. I knocked back three fast gulps and hiccuped.
He laughed and shoved the flyers over, sat down beside me. Close but not touching. “One more lap and I’d have been dead.”
“I’ll remember that next time.” I didn’t move over, didn’t need more space between us. Just wiped my mouth and handed him the bottle. “I saved you some.”
He nodded his thanks and drank it slowly, wisely. No hiccups from that side of the table. He always did have impeccable manners. He handed me back the water. “I haven’t run that hard in years.”
“Same here,” I said, feeling lighter, calmer than I had in a very long time.
“Don’t let it go to your head, but nobody ever played that game the way you do.”
I fluttered my lashes at him. “Well, you do bring out the idiot in me.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. I like your hat, by the way.”
I’d forgotten about the hat. I lowered my chin, looked at him from underneath the bill. “It does have a certain
je ne sais quoi
. I’ll get you one if you like.”
He laughed and leaned back on his hands. “All kidding aside, you look great. A protest always did bring out the best in you.”
“It’s not the protest,” I said, closing my eyes and leaning back with him. “I’m just having a good day. No fog, no confusion. Just me and the hat, having some fun.”
“Are you having fun?”
“I really think I am.”
He went quiet for a moment, and then asked. “Is this an official truce, then?”
“It must be.”
“Good.” He sat up again, his breathing normal at last. “So you’re still rabble-rousing, I see.”
“Not much anymore.” I sighed as yet another turboprop plane flew over my head. “In fact this is the only protest I come to these days.”
“The Bobs mentioned something about that. What happened?”
“Nothing earth-shattering. Once Grace went to live with Liz, I just lost interest. For the first time since she was born, my life was my own with no one else to think about, no one else to take care of. I had all this time on my hands and I could have gone anywhere. Europe, Africa, the choices were endless, but I didn’t have the heart anymore, and eventually I couldn’t fake it either.”
“I can’t imagine you even trying.”
“I did for a while. I thought that if I went through the motions, the feeling would come back, but it didn’t. So I stopped.”
I sat up and pulled the bunch of grapes closer. Snapped off a handful and popped one into his mouth, another into mine. “I felt a little guilty at first. All those years telling people it was their duty to get involved, to take a stand, and there I was, sitting at home, staring at the television.”
“You did more than most for a long time. You had nothing to feel guilty about.”
“Took me a while to figure that out.” More grapes—one for me, one for him. The fruit was warmer now. Sweeter, more satisfying. “But eventually I realized I wasn’t as important as I thought I was. That the world was chugging along quite nicely without me, and the guilt eventually went away. So I got up off the couch and joined a marathon canoe club.”
He smiled at me. “Isn’t marathon canoeing for crazy people?”
“That’s why I liked it. Plus it was demanding and exhausting, and after a few hours in the canoe, there was nothing in my mind but the next stroke. Not Grace or Liz or what they might be going through on the other side of the bay. Just the next stroke.”
Over at the canopy, Mary Anne and the Bobs were back, the three of them clapping their hands and getting the rest of the protesters on their feet. “Break time must be over,” I said.
“Must be.” Mark groaned as he slid off the table.
“Don’t worry, we won’t be much longer.” I stood beside him, watching the others assemble at the curb, waiting for me. Waiting for the drum, at least. “Funny isn’t it, that of all the causes out there, this is the one that keeps me coming back, even though it’s never gone particularly well.”
“What are you talking about? They didn’t get a bridge, did they?” I looked over at him and he shrugged. “Seems like a victory to me.”
I smiled. “Thanks. I think I needed that.”
He turned away, looked out over the row of taxis. “I hate to say it, but I’ve missed you, Ruby.”
“I’ve missed you too,” I said, watching the taxis with him, because it was easier. “But it doesn’t change anything.”
“We could have dinner. Then I wouldn’t be hungry anymore. That would change something.” He turned back to me. “What do you say? Can I take you to dinner when this is over?”
I’d almost forgotten the way his eyes tip down at the corners, making him look sad even when he’s smiling. And the way his head tilts slowly to the right when he’s waiting for an answer and not at all sure it’s going to be the one he wants. But standing there watching him shuffle his feet as that smile twitched and threatened to fade, I suddenly remembered everything. The softness of his lips on my throat, the tickle of his breath in my ear, the gentleness of those big, ham hands in the dark. And I heard myself saying, “Yes, I’d like that.”
His smile came back. “Great, you pick the place,” he said. And as I walked to the curb with the drum, I told myself not to worry, everything would be fine.
It was only dinner, after all.
LIZ
 
“What happened to your head?” Brenda’s younger son, Aaron, asked.
“Don’t be rude,” Brenda said, but I waved it off.
Since her kids had finally accepted that I wasn’t a witch, and had even helped set me up with my own section of blanket, an egg salad sandwich, and a drink box, I owed them something in return. So I smiled and said, “My sister threw a can of iced tea at me.”
Ethan, the older one, stared at me wide-eyed. “Did your mom get mad?”
I leaned closer, whispering, “I didn’t tell her because I didn’t want to get my sister in trouble.”
“Does it hurt?” Aaron asked.
“Not right now,” I said, which wasn’t surprising considering I couldn’t feel anything anywhere. I stretched out my legs, bounced them up and down, even sucked in my cheeks, hoping for a little sensation somewhere, but came up with nothing. Happy hour was still upon me.

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