Reverb (16 page)

“You own the house I’m renting?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you find out about me?”

“Pretty much what you’ve already told me. Look, don’t worry about it. Like you, I’m kind of hiding from the real world, too. Corfu is a good place for that, don’t you think?” He smiles at her, this wide grin. She smiles back. He focuses back on the road. His smile fades but he seems relaxed, weaving the Jeep along the winding road. The rain has stopped and the wind calmed with the dawn. Sky is just beginning to get light.

“You must be very tired. I’m sorry I kept you up all night.”

“You didn’t. I don’t sleep all that much anyway.”

Cameron starts to fuss. The top of his tiny head feels hot again, and with his fever comes her fear.

“What’s up?” James asks, glancing at her longer than she’d like with him driving.

“He’s hot again.” She kisses her son’s head. “Think it’s too soon to give him more Tylenol?”

“Not if he needs it. We’ll be back at my place in a minute. I’d take you to yours but the road doesn’t go down there. Give him the medication at my house and by the time you get back to your place his fever will be down.” James pulls into his carport.

Elisabeth follows him into the house, Cam to her chest, still cradled in the carrier. James leads her down the dusty hardwood hallway, past the unfurnished kitchen and into the furniture-free living room. A fire smoulders in the fireplace, sparks of gold and red suck up the chimney. She retrieves the sample bottle of Tylenol from her jacket pocket. Cameron fusses, flails to get out of the carrier, pushing away from her to get down, winding up to wail as she holds him while trying to uncap the childproof bottle. “Will you take him a minute, please?”

She lifts Cameron from the carrier. James hesitates only an instant before gingerly taking her son. He cradles Cam to his chest, but he keeps fussing so James sinks crossed-legged onto the sleeping bag in front of the fireplace. Cradling her son in his lap, he unzips his onesie several inches. Cameron settles, smooshes his face into James’ soft flannel shirt, sticks his thumb in his mouth, and sucks.

Crackle of charring wood is all that breaks the silence that follows Cameron’s near tantrum. She stares at them. James looks at her and smiles as he gently rocks her son. She smiles back. Then she opens the Tylenol and squeezes three droppers full into Cameron’s mouth just to the side of his thumb, which he sucks incessantly. By the time she seals the cap back on the bottle, Cameron’s asleep in James’ arms. And at that moment she can’t tell who is more beautiful, the man or the child.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” she whispers.

He smiles but doesn’t say anything. Elisabeth scans the titles of the books lying around. The range is extensive—from Dostoyevsky, to Machiavelli, to Michael Crichton. He has a lot of non-fiction too, from learning conversational Greek, to coping with loss, and dealing with anger. He seems so even-tempered. It’s hard to believe he needs an education in anger management.

“What are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere? Do you just sit around and read all day?”

He laughs. “Pretty much. Right now anyway. I blow a lot of afternoons playing Tavli— Backgammon, with the old men who hang out at the cafés, but I haven’t really integrated beyond that yet.”

“Why are you here?”

“To get away from out there.”

“What did you do ‘out there’ that you’re trying to get away from?”

“It’s not important.”

“I see you running every morning. I’ve imagined all these crazy things about you. You know, make up stories about who you are, what you do. My best guess, I’d say a musician.”

His eyes narrow. She feels him tense. “How do you know that?”

“Relax. It isn’t rocket science, James, not with hands like yours.”

“Well, I’m not a musician anymore.” He looks down at Cameron. “Anyway, I can walk you down the hill now if you’d like.”

That’s her cue that the conversation is over and it’s time for her to leave. “That’s okay. I’m sure you’re tired. You’ve been very kind. I can manage from here. Thanks.”

He gets on his knees, and gently hands her back her sleeping child, then strokes the hair out of Cameron’s eyes. “He feels much cooler now. Perhaps the fever has broken.” He looks at her, stares actually. A gentle smile spreads across his face. “He’s going to be just fine, ‘Lisabeth.”

And she believes him. A warm wave of tired sweeps through her. She stuffs Cameron in the carrier against her, thanks James again, and leaves.

Chapter Two

Heavy, labored breathing wakes her. She’d fallen asleep on the patio after putting Cameron down when they got back. Elisabeth opens her eyes to see James turning away from her gate at the patio step.

She sits up, smiles. “Hi,” she says, happily surprised.

James turns back to the gate. “Hi. Sorry I woke you. Just stopped by to see how Cameron’s doing.”

“I was hoping to see you this morning.” Elisabeth blushes, gets up and goes to the gate. “Cam’s much better, thanks. Sleeping. Has been since we got back. Thank you again, for everything. Would love to make you breakfast, show my appreciation.”

“Not necessary. I’m just glad Cameron’s doing better.” He drops his hand from the gate. His long sleeve white shirt clings to his sweat soaked chest, shoulders and arms. Its unbuttoned all the way and hangs open. Sweat drenches his face, his neck, his slender, swimmer’s torso, even darkens the waistband of his gray sweatpants. What an odd choice of apparel to run in. Hot.

“Hang on. I’ll be right back.” She goes inside to the kitchen, grabs a bottled water from the fridge and comes back out and offers it to him.

He smiles. “Thank you.” He takes the water, drinks nearly all of it and sighs when he finishes. She smiles. He laughs. “It’s good. Really good. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She studies him. “Can I ask you something?”

“I guess.” But he doesn’t seem he likes the idea.

“Why are you running in sweats and a long sleeve shirt in eighty degree heat?”             

He grins. “I like to sweat.” Then he gulps the last of the water, caps it and hands it back to her. “Thank you. I should be off.”

She takes the plastic bottle. He seems to hold on a beat too long, and in that instant she feels his intensity, like a static shock, and gasps. He smiles, lets go. And it’s gone. Then he bows ever so slightly and turns away, disappears into a grove of pines that canopies the trail at the base of the hill.

She pictures his soft chestnut hair falling into his striking green eyes and framing his stunning face; his flat belly, the gentle curve of his abs; his sweatpants hanging on his hips just right—

A sudden, choking wave of overwhelming guilt.

Jack. Damn you. I need you Jack. I miss you. I hate you for leaving me alone.

Elisabeth sits back down on the bench, stares out at the small waves crashing on the shore. The beach is empty as far as she can see.

“Damn you, Jack.” She says aloud to no one, and cries.

Cameron sleeps a good portion of the day, and there is no fever when she puts him in his crib for the evening. He wakes her several times throughout the night crying to be fed, and suckles her greedily. Though he wakes late, he seems back to normal the next morning, even eats half a bowl of Cheerios mixed with blueberries after breastfeeding. Elisabeth brings him out to the porch to play while she reads The New York Times and drinks her one cup of coffee for the day.

She sees James coming back from his run along the shoreline. She envies him his discipline. He slows to a walk and looks over at her then crosses the sand towards the house. Dark gray sweatpants hang on his hips, and are soaked around the waistband from the sweat dripping down his torso. His white shirt is unbuttoned and hangs open but clings to his wet shoulders. It’s hard not to stare in awe.

“Hi.” He’s still breathless.

“Hi.”

“Want to see something very cool?” Wide smile spreads across his face.

“Sure.”

“Come on.”

She picks up Cameron and follows him up the hill towards his house. About a quarter of the way up the cliff she notices them. Monarch butterflies. They’re everywhere. They swirl through the knurled pines and swarm together in the leaves of the Eucalyptus.

“Oh wow…” Elisabeth is awestruck. Cameron bounds after them, and she feels his sense of wonder. “This is amazing.”

“Isn’t it? I saw them on my way to go running this morning. They’re incredible, aren’t they?” James stares at them wide-eyed, smiling. His expression is the same as Cameron’s as he watches the ebb and flow of butterflies. His sculpted face sharpens against the background of fluttering color, and for a second she’s lost in him, in his amazement.

“Oh God, I don’t have my camera.” She thinks of running home to get it, then Cameron goes chasing after the swarm as they take off down the hill. She races after him, James follows, and they all gather where the path meets the sand, and monarchs surround them.

Cameron grabs at them, though they’re impossibly out of his reach.

James laughs. “This is wild.” His smile is as infectious as her son’s.

Butterflies rise from the trees and brush, flutter above them—orange and zebra black pulse against the clear blue sky. Then Cameron releases his high pitch shriek of frustration and suddenly they scatter, fly every which way then seem to disappear. The three of them stand breathlessly looking around, but only a few remain fluttering about.

Cam follows a lone butterfly towards the house, forgets about it as it flies behind the pines, climbs up the one patio step, toddles to retrieves his toy on the deck, then scrambles back down the step to meet Elisabeth and James approaching on the sand. “Muki.” He holds up his stuffed monkey for James to see and admire.

“Good to meet you, sir.” James greets the monkey, bows slightly, shakes the monkey’s paw.

“Come. Come. Come.” Cameron repeats endlessly, takes James by the hand and tries to lead him to the patio.

James hesitated and looks at her.

“Just gonna make some breakfast. Please join us.”

Cameron still pulls his hand. “Come. Come. Come…”

He looks around, then back at her and smiles. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks.” James helps Cameron navigate the patio step.

Elisabeth locks the back gate as Cameron leads James to his play area and plops down on the deck. James kneels beside him as Cam introduces his dump truck, cars and airplanes one by one. James examines and admired each.

“He can do this all morning, ya know.” She feels a need to warn him.

“That’s okay.” He picks up a miniature Red Baron type biplane in the long row of toys Cameron has laid out, and sits on the lounge chair behind him. The plane looked big when Cameron held it. But in James’ hand it seems tiny. “Look at this thing.” He holds it out so it sits in his huge open hand. “It’s a work of art. Solid metal. Movable parts.” He lifts it and spins the wheels with a flick of his long, elegant finger. “And a damn accurate model of the real thing. It’s beautiful. Isn’t it? I’m a big fan of craftsmanship.”

“Mine!” Cameron grabs the plane out of James’ hand. James holds his hands up in surrender and smiles. She doesn’t.

“Cameron, don’t grab.
Ask
.” She practically yells, then feels stupid, and blushes when she looks at James. “You know, I was prepared for a lot with parenting, the sleepless nights, the care and feeding, the continual concern. But the real shocker is the endless list of rules we live by, and the need to constantly impart them.”

“I’ve never been big into rules.” He shrugs and gives her a casual smile.

“A part of growing up you never mastered?” she teases.

His smile broadens. “Something like that.” He stays fixed on her until Cameron shoves a Hotwheels Formula racer in his hand. “What’s ya got here, little dude...” He affects a casual demeanor but seems edgy as he holds the racer in his palm and examines the car carefully.

Cameron stands at his knees, gazing up at it. Both their faces sharpen and the background blurs and Elisabeth has the urge to get her camera then thinks better of it. She snaps the image in her head and holds it to memory, watches them for a minute more then heads inside.

“I’m going to start breakfast. Are scrambled eggs okay?”

“Sounds good.” James sits on the end of the canvas lounge chair and waits for Cameron to show off another toy.

Elisabeth goes inside and makes enough eggs for all of them, grills some bacon, and toasts two thick slices of sourdough. She keeps expecting James to get bored with Cameron’s antics and come in, but when he doesn’t, she finally looks out the kitchen window over the sink as Cameron crawls onto the lounge and lays next to James seemingly asleep on it. By the time she finishes the eggs and bacon, and comes out to announce breakfast is ready, she’s not surprised to find Cameron curled against James, and both are sound asleep.

James lay on his side, his head resting on one arm, his other arm lay casually over Cameron, his huge hand covering her son’s entire torso. Again, it strikes her how beautiful they both are. She can’t help herself. She goes inside, gets her Nikon, comes back and starts shooting.