Within a Man's Heart (7 page)

I then turned back to the older man, saying “I’d like to buy it, Wally. But if it’s alright, I’d like to take that second look tomorrow. You know, just to make sure everything works—the appliances, the heater and all that good stuff.” 

We agreed to meet at the cabin the following morning, and Wally quickly excused himself to go outside and smoke his cigarette. He hadn’t taken three steps from his chair when I felt something on my leg. It was Gina’s hand. She was holding me just above the knee. I glanced down at it then quickly turned my eyes to hers. She then gave me an excited squeeze, and said, “That is fabulous, Chris! We just might become neighbors!”

She wasn’t the only one excited. I was plenty excited as well. But when I spoke
, something inside me insisted that I be as nonchalant as possible. 

“You never know, Gina. We may very well become neighbors.” 

We then shared a smile, and for the second time since I’d met Gina Elkin, our gazes fused together. Neither of us wanted to pull them away. Even with all the guests in the room, it felt like we were totally alone. The music, all the merry chatter, people gesturing as they spoke, none of it was there anymore. We were the two only people on earth. And before she removed her hand, our eyes still locked tight, Gina said, “I’m glad I met you Chris Crews.”

Again, neither of us said anything. All I could do was smile and slowly nod my head, but that was okay. I didn’t have to speak. Neither of us did. 

Finally, as if she’d snapped out of a deeply emotional trance, Gina forced herself to change the subject. “I can promise you this right now,” she said, “everything inside my uncle’s cabin will be in perfect working order. He’s a very meticulous man. Heck . . . if one of the clocks in his house were a minute slow, it would be enough to drive him absolutely bonkers.”

“Well, that’s comforting to know.” I said, wishing we were still alone, wanting to feel that warm embrace again but forcing myself to continue the conversation. “I wasn’t so sure about that, because I noticed that the outside walls of his cabin need to be weather treated.”

“Oh,” she said as she waved me off, “that’s only because he broke his arm this past January. He couldn’t do much for quite some time. He slipped on his back steps one morning. They were icy. He tried to break the fall and broke his arm. The doctor said it was one of the worst breaks he’d ever seen. He was amazed that Uncle Wally was able to do as much as he was so quickly. But . . . that’s the way he is. He’s tough, a real pusher.”

About that time, Wally came back inside and sat down again. As soon as he did
, he said to his niece, “You’re not gonna believe who just pulled up out front! Rusty Barnwell!”

Immediately, Gina snapped her head toward the front door saying, “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“Nope, it’s him. And he’s drivin’ a brand new F-350 diesel.”

“Is
that
so?” she said, swaying her head from side to side, trying unsuccessfully to see around the guests blocking her view of the doorway. Then, quickly, she stood up. It was quite obvious she could now see the man. The happy excited look that had been on her face all evening suddenly vanished. Gina’s jaw dropped, just a bit, but it certainly was noticeable. She looked like she was watching a corpse rise out of a casket.

Without looking at me or Wally, her voice suddenly sounding very distant, she said, “Excuse me for a minute. I’ll be right back.”

She then weaved slowly through the labyrinth of guests as if sleep walking. Even though I couldn’t see her eyes now, I knew they were wide open. And that they were locked onto this man. As I sat there watching her, a powerful jolt of jealousy zapped through my spirit. And it lingered. I felt as if I had grabbed a bare spot on a highly-charged electrical wire and couldn’t let go.

I couldn’t see the man at first but was finally able to when Gina approached him in the middle of the room. It seemed most everybody else was stealing glances at him as well. He was tall and in a rugged way
, handsome. A couple of his golden locks had fallen onto his forehead giving him a boyish look, and that didn’t do a whole hell of a lot to make me feel any better. Not only did the guy appear to be quite fit, but he had a terrific looking suntan to boot. The latter told me that he obviously hadn’t been in New Hampshire for a while. Yes, he was some stiff competition for sure.

As they looked into each other’s eyes, neither Rusty Barnwell nor Gina said a thing. They weren’t smiling either. I didn’t know what to make of it. I tilted my beer bottle to take a gulp, but
when I did, there was no way I was going to take my eyes off them. Then, as I swallowed the cold brew, I was damn sorry I hadn’t looked away.

They were smiling at each other. And not your run-of-the-mill, polite smiles either. They were warm
and told you that the two had had a past together. For all I knew, they had a future, too. It sure looked that way.  Then it got worse. He put his hands on Gina’s trim waist, and she put hers on his shoulders.  I felt sick inside and had to look away.

I turned to look at Wally and saw that he was still watching them. There wasn’t much space between his white eyebrows and the bristly hair on his head now. The way his forehead was all crinkled up I knew he was in deep thought. And they sure didn’t seem to be happy thoughts. 

“At one time they were pretty fond of each other,” he said, just before turning away and looking at me.

“Oh, really?”

“Yup, everybody was surprised when Barnwell left town a few years back. Especially since he and Gina had been seeing each other for quite a spell.”

All I could do was mutter, “Hmmm,” but I really wanted to bombard him with questions. How serious were Gina and this guy? How long had they been together? Exactly how
together
had they been? Did they live together? Had they planned on getting married? Do you think Gina still feels for him?

I wanted to ask Wally all that and more, but I didn’t. I only nodded my head. But Wally was insightful. He could tell I’d taken an interest in Gina. And when he spoke again, he made his feelings about Rusty Barnwell perfectly clear.

He took a sip of Bud Light, placed his can on the folding table in front of us then said, “Ever since he got outta high school, Barnwell never stuck with anything. He drifted from one nothing job to the next, if he worked at all. He was a few years ahead of Gina in school, so they didn’t have much of an interest in each other back then. But all of a sudden, ‘bout seven, eight years ago, something clicked between them. They started to look pretty darn serious about each other.”

Wally then looked back out at the two of them, and his eyes narrowed. They were talking to another couple
, who looked to be about their age, laughing now and sipping on drinks.

“Nope
. . . he never was much. Don’t know how he ever afforded to keep gas in that old truck he had. But that didn’t stand in his way. Once he started seeing Gina, he got this highfalutin idea about pilotin’ airplanes. And I damn well know she helped pay for his lessons . . . probably paid for them completely. Anyhow, he somehow did manage to get his pilot’s license. And not long after that he left Mountain Step, in a hurry.”

“Where did he go?”

“Afghanistan. He’s has been flyin’ planes for some big contractor over there ever since.”

For the next twenty minutes
, Wally and I talked about other things. I tried my damndest to be attentive but it wasn’t easy. I kept stealing glances at Gina and Barnwell. I watched them as much as I could, without being rude to Wally. Each time he told me something about one of the other people at the party, he’d turn toward them and nod as he spoke. I turned my head toward them as well, but each time my eyes kept flicking to wherever Gina happened to be standing at the moment. Not once did she look back in my direction. And before long, I was fuming. Then things got worse. Gina and Barnwell sat down together—in a love seat—near the back of the cabin. That was it. I’d had enough.

I waited for Wally to finis
h whatever it was he was saying; rose to my feet; then told him, “I’m sorry, Wally, but I’m going to take off now. My first days up here have been pretty busy. I’m kind of tired.”

A surprised look on his face, he glanced at his watch and just said, “Oh!” Then stood up and extended his hand. “Well, I’ll see ya tomorrow at nine then.”

Bobbing my head, trying to act excited about seeing the cabin as we shook on it, I said, “You bet. I’m looking forward to it.”

But Wally Elkin didn’t release my hand right away. His eyes delved deeper into mine. And a second or two passed before he said, “Don’t worry about anything, Chris. I think things just might work out.” He wasn’t talking about our cabin deal.

Before leaving, I walked over to Connie and thanked her for inviting me. She also seemed surprised and disappointed that I was leaving so early. I gave her the same “tired” excuse I’d given Wally, but she too knew something was up. I felt like a heel as I headed for the door, but my guilt quickly evaporated when I saw Gina and Rusty Barnwell talking to Buster La Porte. They were all standing about ten feet to the right of the screen door.

I caught a glimpse of her
—all smiles just like the two men, and then as I was about to snap my head toward the doorway, her sleek eyes caught mine. She noticed me when I was just a few steps from the door. All the gaiety in her eyes and on her face instantly melted away. And in the time it takes to snap your fingers, the corners of her mouth dropped as if she had injected herself with a strong dose of remorse—as if she’d had mainlined the nasty stuff.

But I wasn’t interested in remorse. I kept walking, allowing my look to linger just long enough to become a disgusted stare. As I was about to turn my eyes from hers, she mimed something. She mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.”

But that didn’t mean a damn thing to me. I only shook my head “no,” looked away, and then stepped out into the dark, cool, New Hampshire night.

Gina Elkin had yanked away whatever small hope she’d given me. In just a matter of minutes
, my perception of her had been blown all to hell And as I lay in bed that night, before falling off to sleep, I demolished all the good feelings I’d had toward her.

To hell with
her! Where does she get off . . . stringing me along then suddenly acting as if I’d fallen off the edge of the earth? No, it’s more like she pushed me off. She can go straight to hell. I don’t give a damn how beautiful she is. I don’t think she’s all that bright anyway. What the hell could I have ever learned from her? Small town woman, probably never lived anywhere else, probably never read a worthwhile book in her life. No . . . I don’t need her. She can run off to Afghanistan with that bonehead for all I care. As a matter of fact, I hope she does. I didn’t come up here looking to meet anybody anyway. If I had been looking, this is the last place I would have come to. I came here to get away and be left alone. Freak this! That’s it! I’m going to sleep
.

It was getting cold in the cabin so I sprung up out of bed, snatched an extra blanket from the closet then got back in bed. I gave the pillow two hard slaps and
lay down on my side. I drew a long breath, slowly let it out, and as I always did. I whispered, “Good night, Elyse. I love you honey.” Not long after that, I drifted off to sleep.

Squaring Things Away

I made up my mind the incident with Gina wasn’t going to drag down my spirits. Sure, I
had
thought that she just might be what the doctor ordered—a powerful prescription to help me heal. But now things were different. She’d taken that hope away. And when I awoke the morning after the party to bright sunshine and a fresh, eyes-ahead attitude, I chalked her off as a loss. I no longer had any desire to see her again. At least that’s what I told myself.

When I met Wally at the cabin, I liked it even more than I had the first time. I didn’t try to put on any disinterested fronts. I wasn’t about to start dickering. He’d already told me how much he wanted for the place, and I knew he was too much of a straight shooter to play the bargaining game. I was honest with him. I told him I absolutely loved the place and wanted to buy it. Then what does he do? He actually sweetens the deal. I couldn’t believe my ears when he told me he was including all the furniture in his price. The country-style furnishings were perfect. They looked like they were made for the cabin. Other than my bed, my desktop computer, my books, some pictures, and a few other things, I wouldn’t need the modern furniture from my New York apartment. I wasn’t sure what I’d to do with it yet, but that certainly wouldn’t be a big problem. For now, I was in my glory. I told Wally I’d like to close on the deal and move in as soon as possible.

But things don’t usually move all that quickly in small, rural towns. I had no idea how long it might take to complete a title search and set up a property survey. Nor did I know how much time it would take a local lawyer or title company to set up a closing date. I told Wally all that, and I told him how cramped I was beginning to feel in Connie’s little vacation cabin.

“Not to worry.” he said, with that knowing smile of his. “You just might be surprised how fast a good ole boy with the right connections can get things done. I’ll make some calls and get back to you by supper time.”

“But today’s a Saturday.”