Page 78 of Embers

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We go on one big date a week, since that’s all our work schedules really allow for, but we get together more and more during the weeks. We’ll eat breakfast together. Or take a walk after dinner. I still have my spot in the bunkroom, and he’s sleeping in one of the old barns, but we see each other a lot during our days, and every time makes it easier. More natural.

I’m still dealing with doubts and hesitations that creep in despite my best effort. I can still feel so viscerally how it felt that morning I woke up to find Cal gone.

But he’s different now. Not entirely. He’ll always be himself. But that lurking guilt and internal conflict doesn’t drive his actions anymore. I can feel the difference. Not just in him but in the way I feel when I’m with him.

I don’t have to guard my words or second-guess every action in order to not scare him away the way I used to.

Three weeks after our first date, Cal takes me on a picnic on Friday evening. He must have done some preliminary work to find the perfect spot because he takes me to a secluded, shady grove surrounded by wildflowers and with a view of a happily bubbling creek.

It’s perfect and even more so when he spreads out a blanket and shows me what he’s got in his basket.

He somehow got his hands on a bottle of wine. A sweet, fruity Moscato, which is perfect since I’ve never had the chance to cultivate the taste for a dryer wine.

We have the wine with ham and tomato sandwiches and carrot sticks. It’s cool in the grove, and I’m pleased and relaxed as we eat and chat and drink.

He’s been leaning against a tree. After we finish, he reaches an arm toward me in a silent beckoning gesture, and I move toward him instinctively. He wraps his arm around me, and I cuddle at his side.

It feels safe. Warm. Like home. Exactly where I’m supposed to be.

I still have half a glass of wine, and I sip it since it’s too good to waste.

We’ve been talking about easy, casual things. Things that have happened during the week. Faith and Jackson’s plans for expanding New Haven even more. Whether Mack and Anna will ever get together. But now we fall into a thick, leisurely silence.

I finish my wine, put the glass down, and reach for Cal’s left hand. I don’t know why. I just want to play with it. I rub the palm. Massage each finger. Tell him it’s time to clip his fingernails.

Rub his wrist and then down to his forearm.

“When did your feelings for me change?” I ask out of the blue. A question I’ve had for a long time.

Cal hesitates briefly. “You mean…?”

“Yes. That’s what I mean. When did you start thinking about me as more than Derek’s girlfriend and your… your partner?” It’s the best word I can come up with to embody who we were to each other before we were this.

“Don’t really know. I’m not tryin’ to hide things from you. It all happened so slow and gradual that I can’t really pin it down. When Derek was alive, he was the most important thing to me. So I didn’t think too much about you. Not that you were nothin’. I saw how brave and strong and smart you are. But my heart was barely open back then, and there wasn’t room for anythin’ but Derek in it. Then after he died, for at least a year, I was just slowly getting to know and like you. You kept impressin’ me. You made my life better. You kinda… softened things up for me.” He chuckles dryly, as if he’s laughing at himself. “Never had anyone do that for me before.”

I’m almost breathless as I listen. “But you weren’t into me back then?”

“No, no, no.” He shakes his head roughly. “I mean, I’d occasionally recognize how pretty you are. Or catch a glimpse of your body and feel… somethin’. But I always pushed it away right then, so it didn’t bother me too much. It was goin’ on two years before I kept havin’ those thoughts all the time. And they got stronger. And I couldn’t push ’em away. Fuck, I felt like such a creep, getting turned on whenever you were close. That’s why I kept pushin’ you away.”

“I know.” I’m still rubbing his hand and wrist lightly. “I know that now.”

“Then my damn back broke out and you were touchin’ me when you put that lotion on, and it was all over after that.”

I laugh softly, touched and intrigued by these revelations. “That’s about the time it started to change for me. Maybe that’s what you were picking up on. Why you couldn’t push the feelings aside anymore.”

“Maybe. All I know is that it ate me up. Wantin’ you so much but believin’ I wasn’t allowed to have you.”

We fall into reflective silence for a few minutes, and I focus down on his hand and arm as my own hands move over them. The scars slash through his tanned skin, as starkly as they ever did. For some reason, they bother me. I want to smooth them away. Erase them—along with all the pain that came with them.

“What happened, Cal?” I’m skating my fingertips over one of the heaviest scars. He’ll know what I’m talking about, how the topic has shifted.

But I don’t know if he’ll answer me. I used to ask him all the time, and he refused to say.

He’s silent for a long time. So long I experience sinking resignation.

But it’s okay. This isn’t supposed to be a test. Things between us are going well, and this doesn’t have to ruin it.

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