Gravity: A Novel (6 page)

“What do you mean
, you don’t feel
safe
?” he asked with concern.

I cleared my throat and pushed
away my heart-rending thoughts. I turned to look at Drew and quickly changed the subject yet again.

“
So, you first. What are
yo
u
doing here at the lake, all alone, and unable to sleep in the middle of the night? Escaping the corporate world?” I asked, genuinely curious as to why he was here. I had assumed that he would be knee-deep in the family business, jet-setting around the world with a trophy wife on his arm. Although I couldn’t really imagine Drew living like that, yet sometimes people change. I had just assumed that he would, once he was encompassed in his father’s world.

“I guess you could say that.
I’m taking a little break from
lif
e
for a while.” He turned back to the lake, his smile fading in the night. I understood the need to take a break all too well. That was exactly why I was here, not that I would admit that to anyone, least of all Andrew who had only been back in my life for a total of two seconds.

“So are you married?”
I asked, my eyes falling on his left hand to check for a ring. Nothing, not even a tan line to indicate that a ring had once resided there.

“Nope,” he answered, popping his
P
like a child. He did not elaborate, forcing me to pry.

“Divorced?”

“Nope,” he said again, shaking his head from side to side.

“Gay?”
I asked jokingly, but curiously.
You never know
.

This brought his face back to mine.
He raised his eyebrows at me. “What do you think?”

I raised my hands up in surrender.
“Hey, just checking.”

“
Okay. Your turn. Judging by the rather large diamond on your finger and your new last name, I’m guessing that you’re married, right?”

I stared into Drew’s eyes for a beat and then down at my wedding ring, as I twirled it around my finger with my right hand, completely at a loss.
His question should have an easy answer, yes or no. But unfortunately I wasn’t sure about my marital status. My marriage was in limbo. I felt a familiar stab of pain in my chest, one that I had been living with since the moment I had found Ryan in bed with someone else.

I thought back to the day that Ryan had proposed and
had slipped this ring on my finger. It was a perfect spring day in Seattle, one of those days when people were thankful for the long, dreary months of rain, knowing that, without it, the surrounding beauty would not exist. I remembered feeling that sense of gratitude as Ryan and I strolled along Alki Beach, watching a young family as they played a game of Frisbee in the rocky sand.

“That could be us one day,” Ryan had said as he squeezed my hand.
I had smiled at him, imagining the two of us, surrounded by kids, sharing our life together. Nothing would have made me happier. Ryan and I had talked about marriage—always something just out of our reach—something we both saw in our future but not until we were finished with law school and had started our careers. We were both so focused on our goals, the finish line finally visible after years of running the race.

But that day Ryan had surprised me. Our casual stroll had ended at Salty’s with a late seafood lunch on their waterfront deck.
And on our walk back to the car along the same beachfront path, Ryan had stopped at our favorite spot so that we could enjoy the sunset that stretched across the uncharacteristically clear sky. The blue had faded to pink as the sun had dipped farther and farther toward the edge of the earth. Ryan had dropped to his knee and had presented me with this ring.

“Gemma, I can’t imagine a day without you in my life.
Promise me forever?” he had asked.

Stunned and overcome with emotion
, I had whispered, “Yes,” just as the sun had melted into the ocean, welcoming the night. And in that moment, Ryan had erased my past, filling my future with love and happiness and hope. I remembered feeling amazed at how much I loved him, my heart so full of joy that I thought it might burst.
Foreve
r
. Forever turned out to be not quite long enough. I had left him, literally walked out on him. And whether or not I was going back still remained a mystery. Legally I was married, but in my heart . . . I wasn’t sure.

I turned to Drew and gave him a simple reply.
“Yes,” I said, matter-of-factly, hoping that he didn’t read too much into my delayed response.

“So why are you here?” he asked with unease.

“I told you. To fix up the cabin.”

“So where’s your husband?” he asked, almost accusatory.

“He’s at home in Seattle. He’s working.” Drew’s questions were leaving me flustered. I didn’t want to think about Ryan or my marriage or what had happened. The reality too painful, the truth too humiliating. I tried to deflect Drew’s questions with questions of my own, but he could see right through me.

“
Okay, Gemma. I know that it’s none of my business, but spit it out already. You’re obviously not telling me something.”

“You’re right, Andrew
. It is none of your business. And you aren’t exactly being forthcoming about your life.” I stood to go. It was late, or early, whichever way I wanted to look at it, and I was done talking. “Good night, Andrew.” As I turned to go, he raised his hand in the air to wave good-bye as if saying “whatever” but never said anything or turned in my direction. This pissed me off even more. I walked back to my cabin with my arms folded across my chest, feeling like an irrational teenager—angry but for no apparent reason.
Damn that Andrew Monroe.

Ten

I sat on the porch swing with my eyes closed, enjoying the warmth on my skin from the late
-morning sun. I was exhausted from a nearly sleepless night, getting a late start on the day.

“Peace offering?”

I jumped at the sound of his voice and opened my eyes to find Andrew standing at the bottom of the porch holding up a picnic basket.

“Jesus, Drew.
You scared the living shit out of me,” I said with my hand over my pounding heart.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He laughed.
“I felt bad about pushing you last night, and I wanted to apologize. May I sit down?”

“Be my guest
.” I motioned toward the porch swing, scooting over to make room for him.

“Coffee?” he asked as he set
down the basket and began rifling through it.

“Yes, please.”
He handed me a coffee mug and filled it to the brim with steaming hot coffee from a stainless steel thermos.

“Cream? Sugar?”

“No, just black. Thanks.”

“Good, because I don’t have any,
” he said with relief. He handed me a red-and-white-checkered cloth napkin and then a warm huckleberry scone. My favorite.

“Oh
, my God, where did you get this?” I asked.

“LuLu’s bakery.
I remembered that these were your favorite. Do you forgive me?” He cocked his head to the side, his smile igniting something inside me.

“I guess so.
But only because you brought me a scone. I can’t believe that LuLu is still in business.”

“Yeah, she passed away a few years ago
, but her niece has been running things for several years now. All the recipes have been handed down,” he said as he bit into a scone.

I bit into my own scone and closed my eyes to savor the taste. “I think these are better than I remember.”
I devoured the entire thing in as little as three bites while Andrew and I sat in silence, taking in the lake as we sipped our coffee.

“So what’s your plan today?” he asked.

“I wanted to pick up some paint and supplies from the hardware store, and start refinishing the outside of the cabin. But since I don’t have a car, I may just sit here all day and do nothing.”

“You’re going to paint the cabin all by yourself?
Why not hire somebody to do it?”

“I don’t know
. I kind of like the idea of doing it myself.”

“Well
, I’d be happy to take you to town, if you want,” he said, hesitantly.

“Really? You don’t mind?” I asked.

“Not at all.”

We finished our coffee and drove to the hardware store where I picked up
paintbrushes, paint pans, redwood stain for the cedar planks, and white paint for the trim. Andrew left me at the cabin with my purchases while he claimed to be in desperate need of a nap.

I spent the afternoon taping the trim around the doors and windows that I could reach, prepping for the long process of reviving the cedar siding that I planned to start the following day.

That night, while playing an old-fashioned game of solitaire at the dining table, I polished off a bottle of Merlot and let my thoughts drift to Andrew. It was hard not to feel attracted to him. His smile could light up the room. He was still the kind, gentle soul that I remembered, his father’s cold, hard demeanor having no place in Andrew’s heart. He was his mother’s son through and through.

Eleven

The next morning I braved the dark confines of the garage, mentally talking my way through the spiderwebs to find the ladder that my grandfather had stored away.
It was hard not to wish that Ryan was there to help with this task, knowing my fear of spiders and any other creepy-crawling thing that hid in dark confined spaces. I was married; I shouldn’t have to wrestle with ten-foot-tall ladders and monstrous black spiders. I pushed aside my resentment of my situation and chanted in my head
,
You can do thi
s
, over and over, mentally psyching myself up for the task.

I emerged from the garage hastily, threw the ladder to the ground with a crash, and jumped around frantically. I ran my hands through my hair and over every inch of my body in a desperate attempt to brush off the
multitude of spiders and their webs that I was almost certain were there. I heard a laugh from behind me and turned to find Andrew watching the embarrassing spectacle that I was making of myself.

“What the hell?” he asked, unable to hide the amusement in his voice.

“Get them off me,” I screamed. I didn’t have time to let the mortification of the moment sink in when I felt as if little eight-legged things were crawling all over my skin.

He only laughed harder.
“Still afraid of spiders?” he teased.

He must
have seen the fear in my eyes, so he walked closer and brushed his hands up and down my arms. He pulled something out of my hair. I wasn’t sure what it was; I was too afraid to ask.

“There.
Nothing on you. You’re fine,” he said with his hands resting on my shoulders, looking directly into my eyes, his voice calm and direct.

His touch raised the goose
bumps on my skin to a new level, and I shivered at the sound of his deep, calming voice, so close to my face.

I stepped backward away from him, my cheeks ablaze in embarrassment now that I felt safe. “Thanks.” I wrapped my arms across my chest, rubbing
out the chill. “Where were you five minutes ago? I could’ve avoided this whole scene and sent
yo
u
in there instead,” I said, motioning toward the garage with my thumb.

He laughed again.
“Sorry, but this was way more fun.”

I punched him in the arm.
He was wearing a pair of long running shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt. The muscles in his arms and shoulders flexed as my fist met his skin.

“Hey, I saved your ass from that big hairy spider crawling through your hair
, and this is the thanks I get?” he said as he rubbed his arm.

I instinctively ran my hands through my hair again and shuddered at the thought.
I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, securing it with the band that I had wrapped around my wrist. “What are you doing here, Drew?” I asked with my hands on my hips.

“I thought you might want some help painting.
I don’t really have anything going on. It could be nice to have a project. What do you say? Want some help?”

“You really want to help?”
I asked, unsure of his motives.

“Yep.” He gave me that close
d-lip smile that showcased his dimples the most.

“Fine. Can you help me with this ladder?” I asked as he picked it up off the ground, chuckling to himself.

Twelve

We worked together the entire day, each with our own earbuds in place, listening to our iPods. Andrew was on the ladder, painting the upper portion, while I stood on the ground painting the lower portion. I had made us sandwiches for lunch that we ate on the front porch in the shade. We didn’t speak much the entire day, but our silence was comforting and familiar, and I was thankful for his presence and for his help.