Still Waters (17 page)

Hartley

“Crew!”
I shout over the rain, “Crew, wake up.”

He’s
lying on his back, tangled in a mess of sheets and blankets. He’s crying.

“Sssshhh,
wake up,” I say into his ear, and stroke his cheek. He stays asleep but
suddenly lurches to the side, knocking me backward.

“Wake
up,” I try again, running my hand up and down his arm. His face, God, his face.
It’s too sad to look at. In sleep, the masks he wears during the day are
stripped away.

“What’s
happening?” he murmurs and slowly opens his eyes. When he sees me, he shuts them,
swallowing hard. A cold feeling starts at my heart and spreads throughout my
chest. I’m not the girl he was expecting to see.

“You
had a bad dream,” I say, and my voice sounds strange and hollow. “Are you ok?”

He
opens his eyes and nods slowly.

“Fuck!”

“What
is it? Please, just talk to me.”

He
sits up straight and crawls out from under the netting, pulling on a pair of
boxer shorts.

“Are
you leaving?” I say, and I don’t like the desperation in my voice.

He
yanks the screen covering the window aside, sending it crashing to the floor.

“Crew!
What’s going on?”

He
braces his arms on the frame of the window and leans out into the darkness,
breathing hard.

“It’s
never going to end, is it?” he shouts into the forest. “This is never going to
fucking end!”

“Crew,”
I say quietly as I pull the sheet around me and crawl out under the netting. I
walk up behind him, hesitating for a moment before placing a hand softly on his
back. “You have to talk to me. What was the dream about?”

He
spins around, looking down at me. He looks wild, frightened. He looks defeated.

“I
thought if I loved you it would be different.”

I
take a step forward, and he pulls me into his arms.

“I’m
sorry, kid. I should never have kissed you at The Point.”

“What
are you saying?”

He
pulls me closer and rubs his lips across my hair.

“I’m
never going to be free of this. It doesn’t matter if I’m screwing a woman I met
two minutes ago or if I’m falling in love. It’s going to eat me alive every
single damn day of my life.”

I
rub his back in circles and try to pull him away from the window. The rain has
stopped as suddenly as it began, but it’s left a cool breeze in its wake that’s
making him shiver.

“You
don’t know that.”

“Oh
Hart,” he sighs, his breath shuddering through his chest. “I think I do.”

“Come
back to bed,” I whisper, stepping out of his arms and taking his hand. But
instead of following me he stands his ground, his face clouded with an
expression I hope never to see again for as long as I live.

“I
think you should go back to your room.”

I
drop his hand and wrap my arms around my waist.

“You
want me to go?”

“I’m
sorry. I can’t be near anyone tonight. I’ll come by in the morning, and we can
talk more then.”

His
voice has taken on a businesslike tone that I despise as soon as I hear it.

“I’ll
walk you over.”

I
ignore him, quickly pulling on my underwear under the sheet and looking for my
dress. The longer it takes me to find it, the more frantic I become.

“Here,”
he says, holding it out to me. When he sees my face, he takes a breath and
closes his eyes.

“I’ll
walk myself,” I say quietly, once I’ve zipped up my dress and slipped on my
sandals.

He
nods and opens the door for me, reaching into his rucksack on his way to pull
out a flashlight.

“Hartley,”
he says as I turn to leave. “I’m not running. I’m right here. I just need time
to think. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

I
look at him for a moment, unsure of whether I should slap him or kiss him. He
leans against the doorframe, half his face hidden in shadows. Crew Sullivan -
half darkness, half light. I rise onto my toes and kiss him deeply, slowly, as
if it’s the last kiss we’ll ever have. Then I turn my back, and go.

When
I make it back up the spiral staircase to my treehouse I’m soaked through from
the water that’s dripping from the leaves in the forest. I flick on the lamp
next to the bed and strip off my dress, replacing it with a t-shirt and a pair
of shorts. Across the trees, a soft glow shines through the window of Crew’s
treehouse. It looks like he’s not planning on sleeping either. I think about
running a bath, but that just makes me think of him. Instead, I pull back the
covers on the bed and climb in, flicking open the cover of my iPad as I settled
myself against the pillows. It’s time I let Eleanor know where I am.

To: Eleanor Patrick

From: Hartley

2.16 am

Hi Nor,

I’m sorry I haven’t emailed earlier. It was a long flight and then I
slept for a few hours when we arrived. I’m in Venezuela, staying at one of
Crew’s places down here. I’m sorry that we left things the way we did, and I’m
sorry that I had to give you the water samples without really explaining what
they are. I will tell you everything, Nor, I promise. As it turns out, I might
be coming home sooner than I thought, so I will be able to explain it all to
you in person. Just keep them safe, Nor. It’s important.

Love you.

Hart.

As
I hit the send button, a new message suddenly flashes in my inbox. My eyes look
over to the window and then back down to the screen. I open the message.

To: Hartley

From: David

Baby, I read your email, and I feel sick about it. I never wanted you to
feel threatened or bullied. I guess I’m not very good at expressing myself
because all I ever wanted was to let you know how much I want you back. We have
a home here Hartley, a life. Work is waiting for you; I’m waiting for you. I’m
going crazy here. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I miss you so much. Please come
home, Baby. Please come back to me.

I
read through it twice and then hit the reply button.

To: David

From Hartley

David,

I'm sorry that this is hard. It’s hard for me, too. I never wanted to
hurt you. I never wanted to hurt anyone. But David, I promise you that it’s
better that this happened now, not in twenty or thirty years when there would
have been children involved. We aren’t meant to be together. We’re too
different. I know you can’t understand it because the Hartley you know seems
perfect for you. But I’m not her anymore. I need to have a new start and try to
do what makes me happy for once. I’m sorry.

Hartley

I
turn my iPad off in case he replies and switch off the lamp. Outside, insects
sing to each other in high-pitched clicks and chirps. I listen to them,
imagining their conversation, until I fall into a restless sleep.

“Babe,”
Crew whispers into my ear. I can feel the length of him curled around my back.
He’s stroking my hair. “Hartley.”

Even
with my eyes closed I can tell it’s too early to be awake.

“What
time is it?”

“Just
after five.”

“When
did you come in here?”

“About
an hour ago. I’m sorry I woke you up, but we need to talk, and I’m helping the
guys build a new treehouse as soon as it gets light. We try to work early
before it gets too hot.”

I
open my eyes and reluctantly pull away from his arms. He’s showered and dressed
in a t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

“God,
this is hard,” he groans and lies back onto the pillows. “I don’t know where to
begin.”

I
lie down next to him and pull the blanket up over us both.

“Do
you need a cubby house?”

He
smiles and shakes his head.

“Not
this time. But, thank you.”

We
lie like that for a few minutes, him opening his mouth to speak and then
shutting it again, me drawing circles over his heart with my finger.

“When
Jessie died, she was pregnant,” he says finally, placing his hand over mine on
his chest. “Four and a half months.”

I
press my palm against him, hard. His heart bangs against my skin.

“The
baby?” I whisper, and he closes his eyes.

“Didn’t
make it.”

“I’m
sorry.”

“I
saw them take her away while they were trying to free me from the car. The
blood,” he whispers. “There was a lot of blood. Her arm was hanging at a weird
angle. Her face… her face, it looked wrong. They said the baby had died before
they got her to the hospital. They did a caesarean while they operated on her.
It was a girl.”

“You
lost everything,” I say quietly into his shoulder, and he nods.

“I
lost everything.”

I
climb on top of him, lying flat against him and resting my head just under his
chin. He wraps his arms around my back and pulls the blanket up over my
shoulders.

“I
have nightmares. They’re - ”

He
takes a deep breath under me.

“They’re
violent, Hartley. Blood. Dead babies. And always Jessie, begging me to help
her. I thought they’d stop when I met you. I feel stupid now for thinking
they’d go away. They won’t.”

“Don’t
push me away,” I say into the hollow at the base of his throat. “Keep talking
to me. It might help.”

“I’m
sorry,” he says, running his hands down my back and up again. “I don’t want to
push you away. I want this to be different.”

I
lift myself up and move my legs so that they’re on either side of his waist,
and then bend down to kiss him on his forehead, his cheeks, his lips.

“Hartley…”
he says as I pull my t-shirt over my head and lower my shorts over my hips.

“Ssssh.
Let me help you. Let me bring you back.”

He
keeps his eyes on me as I slowly undress him and move back up the bed, climbing
over him and lowering myself slowly. He keeps his eyes on me as if he’s trying
to anchor himself to the moment, as if at any second he might give in to his memories
and slowly drift away.

Hartley

“You
cannot find peace,” I say into his chest, “by avoiding life.”

He
runs his finger down the bones of my spine. Underneath my cheek, I can hear his
heart slowing back into a normal rhythm.

“Are
you quoting Virginia Woolf to me now?” he smiles down at me. “I thought that
was my thing.”

The
room has transformed from inky black to dusky morning light in the time we’ve
been lying here. I lift my head to look out the window. “It’s getting light.”

He
pulls me closer and strokes my hair.

“No.
Close your eyes. Pretend it’s still dark.”

I
wait for a moment, enjoying the warmth of his skin and the sounds of the forest
waking up around us. Two blissful breaths. Three. I run my hands over the
muscles in his arms and shoulders. They’re as soft as Jell-O. He breathes deeply,
slowly, everything about him is calmer, like the volume has been turned down. I
want to know if I managed to bring him back to me, at least for now.

“How
do you feel?”

“Do
you want the truth?”

“Why
not.”

“
‘I am sick to death of this particular self. I want another’.”

“Orlando.”

“Yes.”

We
lie together, not moving, and I gently kiss the base of his throat.

“You
can’t have another, Crew. You have to learn to live with the one you’ve got.”

“I
know. How?”

“I
don’t know,” I say quietly as I put my hand against his heart. “Try to live the
day. Live for her. Live for both of them.”

Down
below us I can hear voices chatting easily in Spanish and the clatter of metal
and wood. Every now and then a loud male laugh bursts through the still morning
air.

“I’ve
got to go,” he sighs. “I’ve kept them waiting. They’re too polite to call me
down.”

I
nod and yawn as I reluctantly move to the other side of the bed. He pulls the
covers back and pads across the room. When the men see him at the window, they
cheer.

“Go
back to sleep,” he says over his shoulder, but I’ve already closed my eyes.
“Come and find me later. Evita will tell you where we are.”

I
hear the door open and shut, and then his heavy footsteps down and around the
staircase. Down below one of the men asks Crew if he slept well and the silence
of the morning suddenly floods with laughter.

When
I wake up a couple of hours later, the sun is streaming in through the windows
and the forest is quiet. Someone has left a basket just inside the door, and a
single pink orchid lies next to it on the floor. When I lift the cloth covering
the basket, there’s a bagel on a plate next to a smiley face on a scrap of
paper. When I pick up the bagel, I can’t help but smile. Plain old cheese.
That’s his favorite?

I
eat and take a bath, look out the window for a while and finally when I can’t
stand it anymore I turn on my iPad. Dad has six more days to file a report
about the samples, and I’m desperately hoping there will be an email waiting
for me with some good news. My heart sinks when I open my inbox. There’s
nothing from my dad. But there are three messages from David.

Baby,
you don’t mean that. Remember that weekend away in Maui?

Hartley, if we could just talk I know we would work this out. I’ve been
calling your phone, but it’s turned off. Can you give me a number so I can
reach you? Please?

Hart, I used my key and visited your house this morning. I just wanted
to be around your things. I miss you so much. Four years, Baby. You can’t just
cut me out of your life after four years. I have a plan for us.

I
stare at the screen for a few seconds, unsure of how to react. I’d like to feel
nothing but anger, that would be easier, but there’s a part of me that feels
guilty. I left David without any explanation. I haven’t spoken to him or
explained my feelings. The only communication I've been a part of was an email.
I’ve never broken up with a guy before but I’m pretty sure this isn't how it
should be done. I open the last email and hit reply.

To: David

From: Hartley

7.45am

Hi David.

I feel as though I’ve been unfair to you. I think you were right when
you called me selfish. I should have told you earlier that I wasn’t happy in
our relationship, and I definitely should have told you I was leaving. I
panicked. I’m sorry. We always said that we would keep our relationship
separate from work. Even though I was mad that you knew about the water at
Bridal Falls, I still should have risen above it and ended things properly. I’m
not coming back, David. This email is a poor replacement for the conversation I
should have had with you, but it will have to do. I wish you nothing but
happiness in your future.

Hartley

As
soon as I hit the send button the nagging feeling in my stomach evaporates.
I’ve been walking around knowing something wasn’t right, but until now I
haven’t been able to put my finger on it. I’m no longer tied to David. I could
scream with relief. Down on the forest floor Evita’s daughters are walking side
by side, whispering into each other’s ears. I can see the roof of the main
building below and a splash of blue where the ocean peeks through a gap in the
trees. The bikini I bought doesn’t fit me well; the top is too big, and the
bottoms are a little small, but I pull them on anyway. Back in Twin Heads the
wind will be pushing sheets of sand down the beach, and my little house will be
experiencing a microclimate similar to the North Pole. Here, it’s warm but not
too hot yet, and the forest smells of flowers. I intend to make the most of it.
I throw a cotton dress over my bikini and head down the stairs, rubbing my hand
on the great trunk of the tree as I descend. In my exhaustion yesterday I
didn’t take much notice of how we made our way from the Main Lodge to the
treehouses, and it takes me a minute to get my bearings.

“You
want to swim?” says a sudden sweet voice from somewhere around my knee. I look
down in surprise and see a little boy sitting with his back to a tree. He looks
about five or six, and he’s in the middle of eating the most enormous bowl of
ice cream I’ve ever seen.

“That
looks good,” I say in Spanish as I bend down next to him. “What flavor did you
choose?”

“Vanilla,”
he smiles and then looks down at his bowl, suddenly wary. “It’s mine.”

“It's
ok,” I laugh, “I'll keep my hands where you can see them. My name is Hartley.
What’s your name?”

He
tries to say my name a few times then gives up, shoving another spoon of ice
cream in his mouth. “Crew.”

“Crew?
Like Mr. Sullivan?”

He
nods. “Like the boss.”

I
watch him eat for another minute. He seems happy enough to have me next to him,
but he’s in no mood to talk. As he eats, I look him over carefully. He’s like
most of the Venezuelan people I’ve seen so far – tanned and dark eyed and
utterly beautiful.

“Crew!”
shouts a voice through the trees. The boy hears but doesn’t move. He looks up
at me and grins then shrugs one shoulder. Maybe I’m imagining it, or perhaps
I’m delirious from lack of sleep, but something about that gesture makes me
think that I’ve seen it before.
 
A second
later Evita appears through the leaves and when she sees the bowl of ice cream
her eyes go wide. Apparently five year old Crew has seen that look before
because he’s on his feet in an instant and before Evita can take a step he
vanishes through the trees. I can hear him laughing as he runs.

“That
boy,” sighs Evita as she picks up the bowl and spoon. “He is the naughtiest boy
I have ever met.”

“Does
he live here?” I ask politely, and Evita turns to me and smiles.

“He’s
my grandson. My daughter Maria’s boy.”

I
think of the two girls I saw walking together earlier. I wonder which one is
Maria, and why on earth she would choose to name her son Crew.

I
follow Evita down the path and the steps to the Main Lodge. She disappears into
the kitchen with the bowl, her voice rising and falling through the door that’s
swinging open and shut after her. Frank and the two Muscles are standing over a
table covered in papers. As I approach, he lifts a hand to say hello, but then
quickly looks back down.
 
I take a seat
in an armchair next to a big window and look at a map of the village that’s
sitting on a coffee table in front of me. On the other side of the room, the
three men huddle together, their voices dropping so low that I can barely hear
them. I’m looking at the lines representing paths on the map, tracing them with
my finger so that I can try to make my way to the beach when I feel a hand on
the back of my head.

“Hey
there.”

I
look up and see a Crew that I’ve never seen before. He’s dirty, covered in mud
and leaves and sweat has soaked through his t-shirt. There’s a gash on one hand
that probably needs to be cleaned and a streak of dirt down one side of his
face.

“Hey,
yourself. That looks nasty.”

He
looks down at the cut and shrugs. “It’s just a scratch. Did you eat something?”

I
nod and stand up next to him.

“Yes.
Was the basket from you? I didn’t hear you come back in.”

He
looks a little awkward for a second and then smiles.

“Sorry.
I can’t take credit for all of that. I gave the bagel to Maria and then asked
her make you up a tray.”

“Oh,”
I stammer, “well, thank her for me.”

“I
will.”

I
want to ask him about the little boy I met but before I can say anything, Frank
calls Crew over. They stand shoulder to shoulder around the table nodding and
pointing at things and then one of the Muscles starts speaking into an
earpiece. I watch them, trying to pick up any clues about what might be going
on but they give nothing away other than it’s obviously something serious, and
they don’t want me to know about it.

“Do
you want to go for a swim?” Crew says when he’s back at my side. “I’ve finished
for the day. I want to show you around.”

I
look up at him for a moment and then back over to where Frank and the Muscles
are laughing and passing around cigarettes.

“Don’t
worry about any of that,” he says softly as he bends down and kisses me lightly
on my cheek. He smells like earth and salt and sunshine. As if he’s part of the
forest itself.

“Is
it something bad?” I say, and he takes my hand, leading me out through a
doorway and down a path that leads to the beach.

“Not
really. It’s an ongoing thing. I don’t want you to worry about any of it.”

“Crew,”
say, stopping so that he has to stop too. “Don’t treat me like a child. If
there’s something wrong, tell me about it. You don’t need to protect me.”

He
looks back at me for a second and then sighs.

“Come
with me.”