When It's Love (15 page)

My scalp prickles with fear. I rush to turn off the lights in my apartment so it will be difficult for anyone to see in through the balcony door, which I then open a crack. I squat down as low as I can and shake a bag of cat food to get Tiny’s attention. He comes flying inside, thinking food awaits him. I hate to dupe my cats, but this is an emergency. I stand to shut and lock the door and then I jump into my bed and cower under the covers. I don’t know what to do. I can’t call the police to report a parked car. I can’t call Henry because he doesn’t know about my past. I definitely can’t call my mother, but I’m smart enough to know that I need to tell someone that there’s a possibility Abraham Rudd’s car is parked outside my building. The only person who could guess what this means is Jake, but after our meeting today, it seems like a mistake to get in touch with him. He’s getting married, and I need to let him move on with his life.

I flash back to the day at Lake Pleasant when Jake and I snuggled in our tent after a long swim. We had the front flap of the tent open and the air blowing in was crisp and fresh. Birds were chirping, and wild purple flowers were in bloom right before us. I was half asleep when the hum of an engine and the thumps of tires rolling over little stones startled me out of relaxation. No one else ever came out to our spot at the lake so Jake and I both jumped up. He threw on his shorts and ordered me to get dressed. Adrenaline rushed through me. Of course, it could have been anyone who happened upon our private lakeside spot. There was no reason to suspect danger. But we knew someone had been following me for weeks. “Maybe it’s nobody,” I said, though I didn’t believe it. My heart was pounding and I was clenching my teeth so hard my jaw ached.

“Stay here,” Jake said. “Don’t leave the tent. I’ll take care of everything.”

After Jake dashed out, I waited a few seconds before creeping my way out. I knew Jake was trying to protect me, but in that tent I felt like a sitting duck. I sneaked around to the back of the tent and then dashed over to the spot near the abandoned trailer where Jake and I had built a little fire pit out of stones. I reached down and grabbed a stone that wasn’t too heavy for my hands. If I had to bash someone over the head with it, I’d do just fine.

I approached the area where I heard Jake shouting, “Who are you? Why are you following my girlfriend? Tell me who the fuck you are.”

Finally, I was close enough to see what was happening. Jake was towering over a small white-haired, white-bearded old man, whom he’d pinned between his body and the side of that blue sedan. He was holding the old man, who looked like a skinny Santa Claus, by the throat. “You stay away from her,” Jake growled. “Do you hear me, you asshole?”

As the old man tried to nod in agreement, Jake let go of his neck and took a step back. “Get in your car and leave. Don’t ever get near Sydney again.”

The old man struggled to gain his balance and his voice. He was bent over and wheezing. “I wasn’t going to hurt her,” he croaked. “I just want to know her. She’s my flesh and blood.”

I dropped the stone, without even checking to make sure it wasn’t going to land on my feet, and threw my hand over my mouth. I tried to suppress a blood-curdling scream with only partial success. The sound that came out of me was a low, long wail. In the same instant I emitted it, both men turned to look at me. Riveted with fear and frozen in place, I could muster only three words: “Who are you?”

“Abraham Rudd from Rapids City,” the old man said. “My son is your father.”

And now here I am again, three and a half years later, as horrified as ever by my very own DNA. If there were some way I could get away from that part of myself, some way to just wash it all away, I would do it. I would change. But no matter what I do, I can’t alter my genetic makeup, shift shapes, or turn into a werewolf. The truth I learned at Lake Pleasant from Abraham Rudd is that I came to be in this world through an evil act, a crime and a sin, and nothing can ever change that.

I climb out of my covers and tiptoe over to the balcony door to see if the car is still there. It isn’t, and I breathe a giant sigh of relief. Could I have imagined it was parked out there beneath the street lamp? Was I having a panic attack like the ones I had all through freshman year? Maybe everything that’s happened since Henry walked out on me a few hours ago has been a bad dream. The way he owned me and left me could make anyone insane.

Too disturbed to go to sleep, I check for a reply from Professor Sparling. Why, oh, why did I send him that last picture? I need to get him out of my life and get Henry back. I’m completely certain of this, and I feel like a fog has been lifted.

Thankfully, there’s no message from Professor Sparling, which doesn’t surprise me. It’s very late and it’s almost Christmas Eve. He might just have a life outside of emailing me, I think, rolling my eyes. I’m actually relieved he hasn’t acknowledged the picture so I can begin a message explaining my change of heart. The last thing I need to deal with now is Professor Sparling starting up a new round of messages with me, telling me he likes threesomes, or whatever else is going on in that salacious mind of his at the moment.

Dear Professor Sparling,

I hope the picture I sent you earlier wasn’t too much. I got carried away and acted without thinking, which I regret. I’ve come to realize some things about my life, and some changes I need to make. I’d like to cool things off between us. It’s nothing personal. I’ve just realized that my heart isn’t in it. I’m sorry.

I do need to reach out to you now on a wholly different note, if you are still willing to be my friend. I don’t want to burden you with my problems, but there is no one else I can talk to. Because you read my essay, you’ll understand. Do you remember the car that followed me all those years ago? I think it’s back. And the person driving it might be my grandfather, but it could very well be my father. There’s a rumor going around Clarksville that he’s back in town. As you know, he’s done a fair share of harm, and my mother and I may not be safe if he’s around.

Panicked,

Sydney

I must have fallen asleep because I’m not sure what’s happening when a ferocious pounding at my apartment door startles me. I leap to my feet and hug my still unbuttoned nightshirt around me. My first thought is that Abraham Rudd – or possibly my father - is on the other side of the door. Tiny and Little run to hide in the closet and I consider joining them, but first I slink as quietly as I can and take a peek off the balcony to see if the car with the dented door is still out there. It’s not, thank God, and just as I’m breathing a sigh of relief I hear Henry’s deep voice calling, “Sydney, are you okay? Open up!”

In all of our years of friendship, Henry has never shown up pounding at my door in the middle of the night. Surely he realizes that he’s scaring me. Why is he being such an idiot?

“I’m fine,” I say as I open the door for Henry. “What the fuck are you doing here now?”

He bursts in with the draft of icy air. I don’t have a chance to say another word because he reaches out, grabs me, and holds me in his strong arms so tightly I can barely breathe.

Henry nuzzles his face in my hair. “I was so worried about you,” he says in a gruff whisper. I close the door behind him, making sure to lock it with the chain. I wonder how on earth he could have known something was frightening me. I reason that maybe he feels guilty for walking out on me. As he damn well should! But, whatever the motive, I’m so glad he’s back. After three seconds in his arms, my body is picking up exactly where we left off this afternoon, and I feel a burning desire as his body presses against mine. And I also feel at ease, like I’m at home in his arms, and whatever is out there – real or imaginary – doesn’t matter. In Henry’s arms I feel like everything is going to be all right. The combination of feeling protected and scorching hot is a powerful one. I’m pretty sure it verges on love.

Henry lets go of me, rips off his jacket, and throws it on the floor. Then he pulls me close again and I look up into his fervent blue eyes. His heated gaze burns through me, roiling my insides. The commotion in my body is now overwhelming – the firing neurons, tingling skin, ragged breath, and my inability to utter even a single word as I wonder how I could have looked at this man hundreds and thousands of times before but never seen his heart through his eyes.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted you, Sydney?” Henry murmurs as he runs his knuckles delicately down my cheek in a way that makes me feel cherished and desired.

I shake my head, whispering, “No.”

“Since the first time I saw you in the library,” Henry says.

My knees go weak at his words, and I’m silently pleading with Henry to kiss me. I need his lips on mine more than I’ve ever needed anything. My mouth feels hollow and vacant without his tongue. He must be able to read my face because he lowers his head to meet me and nudges his nose against mine. I feel his heady breath on my lips and a throaty moan escapes me. Henry’s dry lips graze mine as softly as a butterfly gracing a flower. And then he pulls away. My mouth is desperate for his. I throw my arms around him and pull him closer. “Don’t let go, Henry,” I say as I squeeze him with all of my might. We stay like that, nuzzling lips to lips until Henry’s tongue finally crashes like a tsunami into my unclaimed mouth and makes it his. His kiss is strong and unrelenting. I grab onto his fierce biceps for support while my knees crumble. Henry’s tongue strokes mine, and his erection presses into my body. And though it’s singeing passion that’s coursing through my veins, I feel an undertone of something quiet and consoling and I know what it is. For the first time since I found out who I really am, I feel pure.

I recognize the irony of having a sense of purity as I embark on a trail of erotic pleasure – getting so down and dirty - but somehow it all feels right, like it’s supposed to be this way. I was just too lost in myself to see it.

Desire pours out of me in torrents, pooling in my panties as Henry and I kiss with a raging passion that says always and forever. And what could be purer than a love that’s always and forever?

I’m burning for Henry in my heart and in my deepest core. “I want you,” I say.

My words set off a fervor in Henry. He seizes my hands and holds them together tightly at the wrists. His eyes radiate with sincerity as he looks me straight on and says, “Sydney Morrison, I’ve been waiting years to hear you say that.”

I’m incapable of speech.

I’ve had no idea.

“I need to hear you say it again,” Henry says. “With my name. I need to know I’m the man you want.”

Every cell in my body is screaming I want Henry Hart. He must feel it, but if he wants me to say those words, if he needs that verbal confirmation, I will give it to him.

“I more than want you, Henry,” I gasp. “I need you.” I pull Henry down towards the futon and he willingly tumbles with me, a wide smile adorning his face. “I’m savoring those words,” Henry says. We’re lying side by side on the futon gazing into each other’s eyes. He puts his hand on my breast and traces my nipple with his forefinger. My nipple hardens at his touch and yet another surge of desire overtakes me. I groan softly. He continues tracing his finger down my body, over my hip and then onto my backside. He squeezes my ass hard and growls, “You told me you want me, now show me.”

I sit up and push on Henry’s strong chest so he tips flat on his back. I pull off his black boots and wool socks. There are his feet – those long toes I know so well already – presenting themselves to me in a whole new context. I kiss the top of each foot. I slink my way up Henry’s body and let my breasts hang over his face for a moment. His mouth opens to kiss them, but I quickly slide back down. I squat over Henry’s knees and undo the button of his dark jeans. I unzip his pants and he wriggles beneath me to help me get them off. I inhale sharply at the sight of his erection beneath his tight gray underwear. (It’s gigantic! Yes! But, yikes!) The tip of his erection has pushed its way out of the underwear, restrained only by an elastic band that says Calvin Klein. I lick my lips, lean down, and place a delicate, wet kiss there, then circle it with my tongue. “Oh, baby,” Henry groans.