Fire In The Water Chapter Two

Bella

Obviously, I didn't know when I woke up that this was the direction my path would take me today. Customers of all kinds floated in and out of our town on a regular basis. Townies, tourists, those who left and found themselves drifting back. I’d seen it all. Nothing much phased me, but this guy . . . This guy was hella awkward. Nervous, shy, and apparently unwilling to be touched.

“Apologies,” I said, backing off and holding out the pot of hand cream. “Knock yourself out, or don’t. Either is fine.”

Sensing something within him, something I couldn’t define, I turned around after leaving the cream on the side table. Since the coffee maker had just finished gurgling out the last drop of water into a fresh pot, I poured some to the brim of my favorite bright orange mug. It was handmade just for me, made of thick walls and an oversized handle, with a chip on the bottom from the time Charlie thought it was dandy to knock it off the counter. The imperfection didn't bother me. It still held liquid, after all, and that was the only thing I asked of it.

“New in town?” My inquiry was casual, non confrontational. I only knew he remained in the seat because I would have heard him fleeing otherwise. He appeared the type to leave a hurricane in his wake, a tidal wave of suppressed emotion, man and dog.

The only response I received was some sort of grunt. It was kind of sexy, like the man, but I already knew he was off limits. It was in the expression in his eyes, the storm brewing in that seaweed shade of green. It was in the solid hunch going on with his shoulders, the guarded body posture. It all screamed back the fuck up. 

“Seriously, I didn't mean to invade your space. It’s a bad habit of mine as a shopkeeper.”

Finally, because I couldn't stand the silence, I turned back around.

Heidi had curled at his feet, her head on her paws, but her brown eyes following me around the store. Loyal, naturally, to her master, she would stand between me and him if the situation warranted it. Charlie twined between the worn wooden legs of the armchair, his tail high and his back arched. Looking for a rub here and there. Accustomed to dogs, people, anyone, and anything. Unfazed.

Ward, though, had bent over his lap, fooling with the metal tin. Those cracks on his knuckles must hurt like a son of a bitch, and were fairly common in the winter. It was spring, mind you, but that was how I knew he was a newcomer. Wind, salt, and repeated washing were killer on virgin hands. Long, slender fingers, slightly swollen knuckles, and a firm line to his mouth, he grumbled under his breath as he attempted to pry the lid off the round metal container no bigger than a quarter.

“Coffee and cookies are free, as is tea, if you’ve a mind for it. I keep them around for the customers—at least ostensibly—but I can’t help indulging.”

Biting my lip to force myself to shut up, I watched him struggle to open the container. He was pretty clear on his directive not to touch, so I resisted the urge to step in and help. But I couldn't watch him, either, so instead I moved around to tidy up what was already tidy.

Fat, colorfully bound books stacked nicely on the floor. There was just a happy feeling I got when I looked at them, so I didn't bother finding room for them on the shelves. Everything else was put away properly; by genre, then alphabetically by author. It had been a slow morning, so there weren’t any books to sort. Sensing a shift in the man called Ward, I glanced over a spinning rack full of local postcards to watch him apply a thin layer of the white hand cream over the backs of his knuckles. Riley was equal parts my friend and my mother, and she made it from scratch, along with other goods. She raised a handful of goats for their milk and used it for countless purposes, selling her wares at my store and the local grocer’s.

With another grunt-like noise, he rose from the chair and set the cream on the table. Snagging another cookie, he stared warily at the open doors as Heidi stretched and stood to her full height.

“Thanks for the lotion.”

And then he was gone, leaving me wondering.

oOo

The afternoon was busier, and I had too much to do to waste time worrying about a stranger. At closing time, I made sure the back door was locked, then pulled in the chalkboard sign and called to Charlie.

“Come on, ya furry bastard.” Chuffing tiny meows at me, he appeared from the corner of the store to follow me out. 

Locking the front doors, I made my way next door to the brightly lit bakery, with its plethora of glass cases and round bistro tables. Corner Café and Bakery was my home in more ways than one.

“Hey, sweetheart, is it already five?” Alice called from the register. “This day got away from me, I swear.”

Crossing behind the counter, Alice greeted me as Charlie bolted up the back stairs. “I know the feeling.”

Releasing me from a hug, Alice darted to the pastry case and withdrew a white box. “New flavor of tart Jasper wants you to try.”

“You guys are just trying to fatten me up.” Tucking my keys in my pocket, I balanced the box and opened it to find a bounty of blackberries overfilling a miniature crust. Tucked alongside were a handful of snickerdoodles and a sandwich wrapped in wax paper.

“Blackberry kiwi.” Nodding, Alice continued, “I think it’s great, but Jasper says I would never be honest if it sucked.”

“And he thinks I would break his heart in such a way?” Nothing Jasper made was bad. Ever. “And I see he thinks I can’t fend for myself at dinnertime.”

Smiling deviously, Alice nudged me toward the stairs. “Just looking out for you, babe.”

We had a symbiotic relationship, if I was being honest. I bought entirely too many pastries to give away next door, and they overfed me most days in return. Charlie waited impatiently in front of our door, so I unlocked it and sighed at his mad dash to the food dish.

“You’re not starving, I swear to God.”

Unloading everything on the table, I made sure to feed the clearly not emaciated little fucker and add fresh water to his fountain. He had everything his heart could possibly desire, but he acted as though he was doing me a favor by living with me.

Just like any other cat.

But he was my companion, one I cherished, and I couldn't picture life without him. He followed me back and forth to and from work every day, he greeted my customers, and he was someone to talk to in the evenings.

Feeling restless, I took the cookies from the box and put the rest in the fridge. Scratching Charlie between the ears in a goodbye gesture, I grabbed a lightweight jacket and trod back down the stairs. Jasper was flipping off the lights in the kitchen as I passed down the hallway, so I waved and thanked him for the food.

Ducking out the back and shrugging the jacket over my shoulders, I listened to tiny pebbles scattering across the parking lot as my sneakers kicked them loose. The ocean beckoned, as it often did, and I wandered toward the bay. It was three blocks down, a decent bit of exercise to work off the cookies, and a frequent spot for tourists. Those who worked at the docks would have headed home by then, unless someone was up for some night fishing. The sun was headed down, as we had recently passed the spring equinox, and the changing colors of the sky painted a gorgeous picture. All too soon, the heat of summer would arrive, and with it, longer days and late nights.

Couples and children alike cluttered the park, throwing balls and chasing dogs. Some walked hand in hand down the path, but those were the ones I ignored. Making a beeline for the railing overlooking Admiralty Inlet and the bay further out, I simply inhaled. Brine and fish lingered in the background notes, but I smelled freedom. The rush of water, of air, sea and sky blending until they were nearly one unit. It was my home, for better or worse.

The ocean called to so many. Some were compelled to make their living on it, through its depths, and some were called to play on it. To drive a boat too fast, to sail or paddle or whatnot, chasing that elusive spot at the edge of the world. I waited, my eyes unfocused as I tamped down the memories, and finally found my reward. 

Red and gold, the sun sank into the water’s waiting arms, and—for a brief moment—gave the illusion of fire in the water. Long past the time everyone else left, back to their cozy homes or out to dinner, I stood rooted to my spot. Sea breezes whipped at wisps of my hair, determined to dislodge them from my bandana. My eyes stung, and I blinked furiously.

Tears wouldn't help, hadn't ever helped, and I was luckier than most. Wallowing wasn't in my nature, but I indulged one day a year.

One day; the anniversary of my parents’ death.

Lost to the sea, lost to their passion, they had left me when I was merely nine months old. And there was nothing to hold on to. No scent, no voice, no recollection of them rocking me, reading to me, or singing to me. The siren’s song had been more powerful than my love, and they had gone away.

Childish. My emotions on this day seemed to revert each year until I was a child once again, throwing a tantrum over what she couldn't have. Couldn't have mommy and daddy, couldn't have a family to raise me. Couldn't have that house by the sea, the one on the cliff overlooking the entire world. It was lost when they were, lost to Old Man Raoul—who probably deserved to live there with his grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and an actual need for the multitude of bedrooms. Yearning for a fucking house made me weak, and I wasn’t weak.

Wiping my nose on my jacket sleeve, I spun in an angry arc and nearly ran right into Ward.

“Oh, fuck—sorry.” Stepping quickly away, I recalled the nasty tone in his voice when he’d said not to touch him earlier in the day. At the time, I was in business owner mode, sweet shopkeeper mode. Now, I was in pissed the hell off mode. Bristling, I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets and tried to step around him.

“No, I’m sorry.” His voice was deep, goddammit, and apologetic. “Heidi took off after a squirrel, and I lost hold of the leash.”

Quickly surveying the area at his mildly panicked tone, I scrubbed my face one more time and made a dash for the opening in the fence. Down past the large boulders standing sentry along the seawall, Heidi gamboled headlong into the surf, and Ward and I followed her as far as the sand stretched into the tendrils of waves. Barking madly, she looked back with a doggy grin, and we stopped running.

Ward let out a startled laugh, and my throat constricted as I caught my breath. Get yourself together, girl. 

“She’ll be wet, but she’s fine.” Was that my voice? That high-pitched, reedy noise?

“I didn't realize she was dying for a dip in the ocean.” Plopping onto the wet sand, Ward bent his knees and draped his hands over them. Eyes glued to the dog, he sat in what appeared to be contented silence. At peace with himself for the first time in forever, my brain told me. What the fuck did she know?

An overwhelming sense of intrusion settled over me, and I picked my way carefully over the rocks, making sure I didn't slip on any lichen or stray seaweed. Climbing the stone steps, passing the lamps glowing yellow in the dusk, and letting out all the remorse, all the longing and guilt building in my chest, I let the tears flow freely down my face.

If asked, I couldn't say why I felt so anguished, with a silly dog and a beautiful man at my back.