Stirred (22 page)

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” I said. “You’ve no idea how much it means to me to know that.”

She nodded and slid her gaze around the open space. “So, how many times have you been here?”

“Oh, too many to count. I bring Robbie here a lot. They have a horsemanship center with programs for special needs kids. He loves it. Makes him feel…normal, I guess.”

“I’m impressed, Sean Bennett. You’re quite the big brother,” she complimented with a sweet smile.

I held up a finger and said, “Hold that thought. You’re about to be even more impressed.” I took her hand and rushed her back out to the car, where I tucked her in and sped off to our next destination.

“Where are we going now?”

I grinned at her and said, “You just wait,” then remained silent for the ten minute drive.

We meandered up the serpentine, tree-covered Highway 202. Eden didn’t seem to have a clue as to where we were headed…until we came out of the last sharp bend and she spied the sign. She gasped once again, this time clapping her hands together, as well.

“Oh my gosh!” she exclaimed. “Snoqualmie Falls? I’ve never been out here—ever. I mean, I’ve seen news footage a hundred times during the rainy season, but I’ve never been here in person. Oh, I’m so excited! Thank you, Sean!”

I grinned, thrilled to be the one to share it with her for the first time. Western Washington had just had three days of heavy autumn rain, so I knew the river would be running high and fast. Even from the parking lot, we could hear the water thundering over the nearly three-hundred-foot high cliff.

“Wow, it’s so loud,” Eden called out as she climbed out and shut her car door.

I took her hand in mine and repeated, “You just wait,” then swept her up the concrete pathway to the observation deck. But, as much as I tried to prepare her for what she was about to see, I could tell, by the look of absolute wonder dancing across her face, that what she’d imagined was not even close to what she was now witnessing for the first time in her life. 

We walked to the very edge of the deck, high above the narrow canyon below, our hands resting along the safety rail as we gawked at the waters of the Snoqualmie River, spread edge-to-edge, easily a hundred and fifty feet wide, as it surged and rumbled over the massive cliff before us. The run-off was so high and the current so forceful, the heavy concrete deck vibrated beneath our feet, and mist clouded the entire gorge. We couldn’t even see where the water tumbled into the river below, only the slender green ribbon as it coursed a hundred yards downstream. Our heads were instantly soaked from the foggy dome of moisture that wafted up the valley walls.

“I’ve never been so relieved to have worn my hair pulled back,” Eden announced, flicking the water from her fingers then swiping them across her damp face.

I’d never seen her look more beautiful than she did at that moment, with her viridian eyes glowing bright in feverish excitement, her tawny hair a halo of soft curls about her head, and her glistening cheeks all dewy pink and luminous. She took my breath away, and I wanted—no, I
needed
—to capture that moment so I’d have it forever.

Though she resisted at first, I spun her around so the grand falls were behind us, then leaned in, ready for a quick pic of the two of us together, our first, but definitely not the last. I showed Eden the photo, and we both smiled. No one could ever doubt we made a stunning couple. Just looking at it, something inside me seemed to click into place.

We would have more than just dates, more than a series of steamy hookups. I saw us as a couple. I saw us committed. I saw us with a future, of waking up next to each other, day in and day out. I knew, with absolute certainty, that we were meant to be together, that nothing could tear us apart. Not ever. I wouldn’t allow it. I was Eden’s future, and she was mine.

I texted the photo to Eden so she’d have it to look at during the hours we’d spend apart. I wanted her to gaze at it and fantasize about me, just as I did her. I wanted her to see what I saw, how we completed each other, complemented each other. Knowing she would, I tucked my phone back into my pocket and pulled Eden into a tight embrace, my mouth at her ear so she could hear me over the roar of the thundering falls.

“Don’t say anything, okay? Just keep an open mind and listen.” I felt her nod once against me. Then, with my eyes closed, I paused and took a coarse breath. “I know this is crazy, that it’s early and sudden, and we don’t know each other all that well yet, but…I think—no, I
know
—I’m falling in love with you, Eden. I can’t explain why or how I know. I just do. And I want you to know it, too. I need you to know I love you.”

With my hand against her dampened head, I pressed a tender kiss to her temple. Then I pulled back so I could see her dazzling face. I gazed into those emerald eyes and studied the plump flesh of her lips, where I laid yet another kiss, gentle at first, soft, almost chaste, until I felt her respond and her mouth part. I took that as her answer, both acceptance and an invitation. With a hand on each side of her face, I lashed her mouth with my tongue, relieved to my very core that Eden was returning my kiss with equal passion.

She wrapped her cold, wet hands around my neck and pulled me in so tight, I could feel her heart galloping within her chest, as if trying to break free, so I could consume it within my own body, to love, revere, protect. It was one of those moments like you see in a movie, so pivotal and transforming, when everything shifts and changes, and a new reality takes form. We were both overcome with emotion, speechless and shaking with hope and awe as we each contemplated what was in store for us, where we would go from here.

With a deep sigh, Eden rested her cheek against my chest, and I buried my face in the crook of her neck and shoulder. And there we stood, with the falls rumbling behind us, the mist veiling us in a translucent shroud, creating a world where we alone existed and no one else could ever touch us.

With her hand in mine, I guided Eden down the meandering trail, through the old-growth trees, toward the foot of the falls. We explored the powerhouse and peeked through the windows at the generator turbines then moved along to scope out the impressive views of the valley before descending to the boardwalk at the base of the falls, where every tree was encrusted with vividly-colored lichen. The water was too high, but I promised Eden I’d bring her back in the summer and show her how to boulder-hop across the river.

As the sun dipped a little lower in the sky, and the valley darkened with late afternoon shadows, I suggested we return topside and see about getting a bite to eat.

Eden’s eyes grew bright. “How about the Salish Lodge?” she suggested. “It’s right there. I’ve heard great things about it. People come from all over to stay there, to be pampered at the spa and dine over the falls. We should so do that.”

I held my hand out. “All right then. Let’s go.”

The Salish Lodge sat adjacent to the falls parking lot, literally perched at the very edge of the cliff, directly above the top of Snoqualmie Falls. It provided a striking view of Washington State’s most popular natural attraction. I’d been there, so I knew, and I wanted Eden to experience the ambiance of the elegant yet cozy dining room, with its gleaming hardwood floor, large picture windows, classic Pacific Northwest interior, and the high-end food that would surely rock her world. It was a Puget Sound institution. You had to go there at least once, and, surprised she’d never been, I was pleased I could introduce Eden to yet another first.

The hostess ushered us to one of their coveted window tables, where we sat across from each other, though I made sure Eden faced the rushing waterfall a few dozen feet away. Not that it mattered, because, as we nibbled on a starter of a half dozen oysters, then shared our entrees of vegetable gratin and rib-eye steak, we only had eyes for each other. We finished our meal, chatting in easy companionship, then enjoyed a bottle of merlot, our fingers entwined along the table as the sun set behind the tree-covered hills. The leftover light of the now-hidden sun mingled with the undulating clouds, painting the sky in theatrical hues of orange, giving way to red, then a purplish-blue before fading into an amethyst that softened gently to black. Then the stars popped into view, one at a time, until the sky was filled with the wonder of a billion lights of faraway worlds. 

I pulled Eden’s fingers to my lips for a kiss, then said, “If you’re up for it, I have one last place I wanna take you, but…” I paused, unsure how she’d receive my idea. “It’s closed, so…you’ll have to be willing to take a risk, though, I promise, if you do, you won’t regret it. I swear.” I kissed her fingers again. “Come with me, Eden.”

Eden worried her bottom lip with her teeth as she stared at me and pondered my offer. Her gaze darted around the dining room, then out into the darkness beyond the window before settling back on me, her eyes filled with both uncertainty and longing. I could feel her desire battling against her conscience, pushing first one way, then the other, back and forth, a war of what she wanted and what she thought she should do. The small tentative grin turning up one side of her mouth gave indication as to which side was winning, and I sighed in relief. 

Too excited to wait for the bill, I left a generous amount of cash on the table then led Eden back to the car. The drive was a mere two minutes down the dark, two-lane highway, to the town of Snoqualmie, a tiny speck of a hamlet set right on the bank of the river just upstream from the falls. On the right laid a couple blocks of quaint shops and intimate little restaurants. On the left was the old train depot and a hundred yards of railway with an assortment of old, rusted railcars and locomotives on display next to an asphalt trail with a chain-link fence separating them.

I drove past the restored depot, which now served as a museum and bookshop, and parked in an adjacent residential neighborhood filled with well-cared for clapboard homes.

“Where are you taking me?” Eden asked as I opened her car door.

Helping her out, I raised a single finger to my lips, asking for her silence.

With the exception of a few streetlamps, the area was dark, quiet, and uninhabited by either pedestrians or cars. I slipped Eden’s hand through my arm and walked her to the rear side of the depot. She pulled away and spun in a circle as she peered around in awe at the restored railcars on display. After running an appreciative hand down the length of a rehabbed Army Medical Service Ambulance, Eden hopped up and down, hoping to catch a glimpse of what laid inside, but the windows were too high and the interior lights were all off.

“Eden,” I whispered across the grassy yard separating that car from the one I was most interested in, an early mid-century personal car, its stainless steel-clad body polished to a gleaming shine. Eden scampered over, ooh-ing and ah-ing, even as I attempted to silence her excitement. I pulled her to the side vestibule near the end and raised my arm. “Jump on up.”

Eden’s eyes bugged-out, and she backed up a step as she waved both hands in front of her. “Oh, Sean, no. I…I can’t.”

I huffed at her, climbed up, and held out my hand. “Hop up, before someone comes along and sees us.” I curled my fingers impatiently, urging her to hurry.

She placed her hand in mine, and I hauled her up with one swift yank. She fell into me, her hands at my chest and her brow knotted in worry. I silenced whatever questions she might have with a deep, heated kiss, thinking it felt like a drug I couldn’t get enough of, an addiction I couldn’t fight. But I had to break it off—there was no time to dally—so I pulled away with a raised finger.

“Hold on,” I whispered as I dug my keys from my pocket, searching for the one I needed. I slipped it into the lock, turned it, and slid open the door, pulling Eden inside with me and rolling the door back closed.

Eden’s gaze swept quickly over every inch of the old railcar. Long ago, it had been a chair car, one used for passengers, with rows of seats much like a commercial airliner or bus. But, once out of service, the car had been purchased by a wealthy businessman who’d stripped the interior of its seats and remodeled it into personal car. His estate had later donated it to the museum upon his death. We stood in the forward living area, finished with a shiny wood floor and topped with a luxurious oriental rug. Sturdy, leather conversation chairs sat opposite a plush upholstered sofa, its seat deep, almost like a bed, comfortable for long journeys. Completing the space were matching end tables and an old, wood-burning stove used for heat.