Without You Here (14 page)

Needless to say, I screamed and jumped backward. Wyatt grinned and stepped toward me. "You scared of snakes, Ettie?"

"Uh, yeah. Shouldn't I be?" My heart was pounding and I sort of felt like throwing up. The thing’s tongue was darting out and it was slowly oozing forward out of Wyatt's grip.

"Some of them, I guess. This is just a harmless milk snake. I think they're kind of pretty. Here, hold it."

I jumped back again when he held the snake out at me. I laughed. "No fucking way."

He lifted the middle part of the snake and adjusted his grip back up behind its head. "At least touch it. Conquer your irrational fear. Consider it an adventure. He won't hurt you."

Wyatt watched the snake intently, examining it. Charming it, I supposed. "You could have your own nature show, you know that?" I said.

He smiled at me. "I like reptiles. I guess 'cause Blake always liked it whenever I'd bring home a turtle or a lizard or a snake. We'd put it in a glass tank and then he'd sit on my lap and watch it. We spent hours like that. One of the few things we enjoyed together. He's so different from me, you know. Got that nerdy gene from his mom." He was watching the snake thread its way through his fingers as he said all this.

I wished the moment hadn't happened. Because up until then, the idea of him being Blake's dad was just some abstract reality. He was right. The two of them couldn't be more different, aside from some of their physical attributes. But now I couldn't ignore it. He'd held Blake as a baby. Played with him as a child. Raised him. Taught him. Disciplined him. Loved him. How dare I come between them like this? Yes, last weekend had been a fluke. An accident. I could forgive myself for that. But I had no right to hang around here this weekend. I could walk home. I could start walking home and see how far I could get by Sunday and Lauren could pick me up on the road. Or maybe I could hitchhike.

I started backing up. Wyatt laughed at me. "Seriously, honey, he's not going to hurt you." But then he saw the look on my face and his expression sobered. He knelt and let the snake slither away. Then he stood. I backed up some more as he stepped toward me. I turned to run, but he lunged forward and looped his arm around my waist. "We're going fishing. Come on," he said, gently but firmly.

I was shaking my head frantically and trying to shove him away with the hand that wasn't holding the fishing rod. He lifted me up and put me on the path in front of him. He nudged me forward, but I was crying, now. "I need to go home."

"We're going fishing."

I cried some more and made my way a little further down the path. Wyatt kept his hand on me. Either on my back or my shoulder, guiding me along. "I shouldn't be here," I sobbed.

"But you are," he said. He lowered his voice which made me think we were getting close to where Stan and Charles would be. "So let's just go ahead and go fishing so we don't raise any eyebrows, okay?"

I nodded and tried to stifle my tears. "I'm so sorry," I said.

"Shh. Everything's going to be okay, Ettie." We walked a little further and then he latched onto my arm to stop me. I turned. He kissed me. I opened my mouth to him. I was hungry for him. Starving for him. When you're in love, you don't just crave affection and sex and all those good things. You crave that person's affection and sex. I'd developed a need for Wyatt's kisses. Wyatt's touches. No one else could ever satisfy that need. So I suppose that was the way he'd felt about Amberlee. Yet another realization that knocked my legs out from under me, emotionally speaking.

We dropped our fishing poles and clung to each other for far too long. It was so safe and comfortable here. If we were to kiss forever, nothing could ever hurt us. It seemed almost foolish to back away and move forward.

But we did back away. I'm not sure who moved first, but we moved apart. He scanned me head to toe and back again, pure anguish in his eyes. And then he ducked down. I thought he was going for my breasts, but he wasn't. He kissed me just over my heart. He pressed his hands into my back and his lips against my chest. Almost as though he hoped to burrow in there and stay forever. He took my hand and pressed it to his heart. I knew what was happening even if he refused to acknowledge it. He was falling in love with me. You don't look at a woman like that, touch her like that, if you aren't in love.

The need was becoming unbearable. The ache inside of me was throbbing hard. I gasped. "Wyatt," I said softly.

With effort, he stood and stepped back, still holding my hand to his chest. He was so sad it hurt to look at him. I waited for him to talk and then I realized he had too much inside of him. Too many feelings tangled up in a huge knot. Even if it wouldn't mean hurting Blake, I couldn't get to Wyatt right now if I tried. He was lost in there somewhere. All I could do was pray he found his way out soon.

I pulled my hand back and leaned over for the fishing rods. I handed him his and then gestured for him to lead the rest of the way.

He stood there looking lost for a moment. Then he breathed in, deeply, and then out. His shoulders slumped low and he turned and trudged on.

We came out of the woods onto the grassy dam of a small pond. I could see the ruined remains of a small house back beyond the trees on the far side of the pond. The whole place had a haunted feel to it. That combined with my already depressed mood meant I might be able to keep my promise to not talk too much. Stan and Charles had carried in two extra camping chairs. I took the one between Stan and Wyatt. I managed to cast in my line, doing it right the first time.

It was a long time before any of us got a bite. And that first person was me, I'm proud to say. I felt a gentle tug at first. I wasn't even sure I hadn't imagined it. Then a harder one. And then my pole went bent. I jumped to my feet and started reeling. "What do I do? What do I do?"

Wyatt laughed. "You're doing it. Just keep reeling." All the men were on their feet. Stan had a net in his hands.

It felt like the fish was swimming in all directions at once. Wyatt laughed. "You got a fighter. Keep reeling, sweetheart. You just gotta get it close to shore and Stan'll scoop it up with the net."

I reeled as hard as I could, but it took all my strength just to get a full revolution. "Can't...do it."

"Sure you can."

"I can't get it to turn," I said.

"Keep trying," he said.

I cranked the reel and gasped when I finally made it a full revolution. "It's...too...hard."

"Aw, you're doing fine. Keep cranking."

I reeled as hard as I could. "It must be huge!"

"You never know. Could just be small and feisty."

"You're a son-of-a-bitch, you know that?" I squeaked as the fish jerked hard against my line.

He laughed.

"Help. Me." She said.

"No. You gotta do it yourself. Otherwise you won't have the gratification."

I would have argued more but was finally feeling the momentum shift. The fish broke the surface with a huge splash and then went back under again.

"Holy shit," Wyatt and Stan said in unison.

"Damn right!" I laughed. Small and feisty my ass. Finally I got it close enough to shore that Stan could scoop it in his net.

I bounced up and down with delight. Wyatt got a pair of pliers and removed the hook. Then he took out a small hand scale, hooked it in the fish's gill, and held it up until the fish got still enough. He whistled. "Well, Ettie, this is a Jackson family record, here."

"How much does it weigh?"

"Close to fifteen pounds. Biggest one I ever saw out of this pond. Stan pulled in a ten pounder, once, but usually we get 'em six or seven pounds at most. This thing's almost as big as you are, little girl."

"Are we going to eat it? For dinner?"

"Hell, yeah."

He put the fish on a closed hook on a long chain. The chain was staked to the ground next to the water so the fish could stay alive for a while. Then he stood and grinned at me. "Ain't you glad I didn't help?"

I nodded. "That was fun. I'm gonna catch another one."

I wound up catching two more. Wyatt pulled in two. Stan and Charles got three each as well. They determined this would be plenty of meat for the family.

I followed Charles and Stan back through the weeds to the bikes. Wyatt was right behind me. We got to the four-wheelers and packed up the gear and the ten huge fish. "I'm going straight home," Wyatt said. "So you might wanna ride with Dad or Stan."

I climbed on the back of his bike. "I'll go with you. Blake wants to show me his old room. And baby pictures and stuff. He's very proud of his childhood."

Stan and Charles laughed and then said goodbye. They drove off and I realized Wyatt was standing stock still. I looked up to find him staring at me. I didn't recognize this expression. I'd only known him a week. I'm not a mind reader. "Are you ready?" I asked lamely.

"I can't take you to my house," he said. His voice was frigid.

"This again? You don't want me entering the sacred shrine to Amberlee?" My bitterness was very evident in my one.

"Don’t say her name. I can't take you there."

I pulled out my cell phone and thumbed through my recent text messages. I held it up to him. While we were fishing, Blake had texted me three times. He'd asked where I was. Asked how long I would be. And then reminded me he wanted me to come and see his old room. Wyatt read the messages. Then he looked at me. "Tell him you don't want to."

"Tell him I don't want to see his old room? Doesn't that seem kind of mean?"

"No meaner than fucking his old man behind his back."

I would have slapped him if he'd been standing any nearer. I felt color rising to my cheeks. Fuck this, I thought. I can walk. I hopped off the bike and walked back the direction we'd come. I walked for ten minutes before I heard the motor of the bike coming up behind me. Wyatt came up alongside me and stopped. He didn't look at me. Just waited for me to get on. I hesitated a moment and then climbed on. As angry as I was about all of this, I still held tight to him. I just couldn't get enough of touching him.

We went straight to his house, which was also two stories like Charles and Liza's. The layout was a little different, but it still had that warm, homey, farmhouse feel. Wyatt parked at the back porch steps and left the fishing gear on the bike. He climbed off and led me to the door. He put his hand on it, but hesitated. "Just...don't touch anything. Please."

I couldn't say anything nice. So I kept my mouth shut. He opened the door and gestured for me to go in. We were walking into the dining area. To my right was the kitchen. I could see the living room on the other side of the house. The whole place looked like it hadn't been redecorated in a really long time. I took a few steps inside. There was no sign of Blake.

"Would you mind taking off your shoes? Amberlee always liked people to take off their shoes."

I glanced at him and then complied. I kicked them haphazardly next to the door. Wyatt picked them up and lined them up next to his. He'd gone away. Just like Liza said. The Wyatt who laughed with me and took me on fun adventures was completely gone. This man before me had no passion. He was like a creature in a world of limbo. Just waiting.

I looked around again. "This place is immaculate. You've got to be the cleanest man on the face of the planet."

He didn't answer. Just hovered by the door watching me.

I fingered a vase of fake flowers on the table. My gesture accidentally bumped the vase a quarter inch to the side. "You've got all these pretty flowers growing around out here and you keep fake ones on the table?"

Wyatt readjusted the vase to what was apparently its original position. "Amberlee didn't like to cut fresh flowers. The petals made a mess and they'd eventually die. She liked these."

I nodded. Then turned to face him. "Well since she's not here anymore, you should cut some of that wisteria you've got growing up the back of the house. It smells amazing."

"No," he said.

I shrugged, though I knew I was treading dangerous water. I wished I could bitch slap Amberlee's ghost and tell her to back the hell off. It was a silly thought. I knew she was gone and he was doing this to himself. But it was surreal, the hold she'd had on him. "Well maybe I'll do it myself."

He just glared at me. I held his gaze a while longer and then wandered into the living room. He followed me and I knew he was going to make sure I didn't mess up any more of his stuff. I went straight to the framed photographs on top of the entertainment center. I grabbed a photo of Wyatt and a beautiful, dark-haired woman. "Is this her?" I asked, excited and happy to finally be seeing this woman. Finally I had a face to go with the name. She became a little more real for me, smiling up at me through that frame. The two of them looked so happy together.

"Yeah." He took the photo from my hands and replaced it. I grabbed another one and soaked in the image before he took that one as well. I stood on my toes and ran my finger under one of the pictures.

"There's not a lick of dust anywhere. That's amazing!"

He took a step back and swallowed.

"What do you do," I asked, the anger rising in me, "when you're done cleaning under all of these and you have to put them back? How do you know you're getting them arranged just exactly the way she wants them? What happens if one's a little askew? Does she climb out of her grave and fix it?"

He was so angry there were practically flames in his eyes. "Shut up," he said.

"What would happen if I snuck in there and cut off one of the petals from those ugly fake flowers she likes? Do you think it would hurt her feelings?"

He grabbed me hard by the arms. His fingers bruised my flesh. "Stop it!" he shouted.

I shoved him away and stepped back. "I'm glad we can't be together. I don't want to share a bed with the two of you!"

"Why are you doing this? What did I ever do to you, Ettie?"

"You made me fall in love with you! Your heart belongs to someone else, but you took mine anyway. And you don't give a shit about me, do you?"

"How can you say that? Last weekend was the first time I've been happy in...I can't even remember how long."