Chapter 2 #2
They spoke with the ease of two women who had shared a small town their entire lives, who knew each other's histories and grocery preferences and family ailments. Friendly. Genuine.
But I watched Aimee's eyes move between Claire and me with the precision of a woman who noticed things other people missed.
"Alright." Aimee picked up her purse from beside the chair. "I'm off. Thomas, you need anything from the store, you come by. I mean it."
"I will."
"Claire, good to see you."
"You too, Aimee."
I walked Aimee to her car. She opened the driver's door and then turned to me, her back against the frame, her voice pitched low enough that it wouldn't carry to the porch.
"She's a good woman, Thomas. Treat her right."
"Hold up, Aimee. It isn't like that between Claire and me."
Aimee looked at me with eyes that had been reading people across a checkout counter for many years.
"Would you like it to be?"
I opened my mouth and nothing came out. Not a denial, not a confirmation. Just the space where an honest answer would go if I had one ready.
Aimee nodded slowly.
"You know what you want, Thomas. I can see it when you look at Claire. You're just the kind of man who won't say it until he's sure he can back it up." She reached up and touched my face gently. "That's not the worst quality in the world."
She kissed my cheek. Then she leaned back and her expression shifted, the warmth taking on a familiar mischievous heat.
"And Thomas? I haven't forgotten. If things don't work out with Danny, you'll be the first to know. You know I never pass up a chance to enjoy some good dick."
I laughed. She laughed. The old joke between us, lighter now for having survived the end of our romance and the friendship that remained.
"Get out of here, Aimee."
"Goodbye, Thomas."
She dropped into the driver's seat, started the Subaru, and pulled out with a wave through the open window. I watched her go, her taillights winking once at the bend before the trees swallowed her.
When I came back to the porch, Claire had sliced the bread on a cutting board she'd found in my cabin, a jar of honey with a spoon set on the little table.
"I put the kettle on for tea. A new batch of black tea I want you to try. Hope you don't mind."
"I never mind your tea."
"Fresh bread and fresh honey," Claire said. "Nothing better."
"Looks amazing."
"Seeing Aimee here was a nice surprise. I'd heard you two were friendly."
"Did Stella at Charley's Diner fill you in?"
"Of course not," Claire smirked. "But Stella did talk with my mother and she told me."
"Life in a small town," I grinned.
"Welcome. Isn't it wonderful?"
"Very cozy. Almost claustrophobic."
"You get used to it."
"What's DJ been up to?"
"Obsessed with a new book. He told me this morning that velociraptors were actually covered in feathers, and that everything I thought I knew about them was wrong." She glanced over her shoulder. "He was very serious about it."
"I hear the feather evidence is solid."
"Don't tell him that. He'll never stop."
"How's Bessie Anne?"
Claire paused, her hands folded in her lap.
"Some days are better than others. Her joints are aching more, but she keeps pushing through. Yesterday she accidentally called DJ by my father's name. The grief still leaks out at unexpected moments." She put the lid back on the canister. "She's happy, though. That's what matters."
We sat quietly, not looking at each other, but still feeling the tension between us. I had not forgotten the kiss we shared the night my power got cut. I knew she hadn't either.
"You actually did it," Claire said.
"Did what?"
She gestured at the generator cord running to the trailer's battery bank.
"What you said you'd do. You're still here."
"I'm still here."
"Harlan is going to hate that."
"Good."
She looked at me and something in her face was fierce and tired and admiring all at once, the expression of a woman who had spent years watching people fail to do what they promised.
"One hundred thousand dollars profit is serious money. You could have taken his offer. Leave these problems behind."
"I don't run from problems anymore," I said. "I'm done with that."
Claire was quiet, gathering herself.
"I thought I was done after Derek left," she said, and I could see that saying her ex-husband's name cost her something. "After he got on that plane and didn't come back, I swore I'd never ask a man for anything again. But that's its own kind of running, isn't it? Running from needing anyone?"
"I think so," I said. "Running from your fears is just running in place."
"Well, I'm glad I finally met a man who doesn't run."
Her voice was low. Her green eyes held mine as we sat on the porch, the moment charged with unspoken feelings we both felt.
The kettle whistled inside the cabin.
Claire blinked, as if startled from a daydream. I felt the same way.
She gave me a wan smile and went inside. I heard the burner click off, the sound of water pouring over tea leaves. The small, domestic clatter that was both comforting and arousing.
I picked up the bread knife and cut myself a thick slice of bread. I spread it with honey and waited for Claire to bring the tea.