3. Surprising Attraction
After spending time shopping for food, they piled the groceries back into the car. Pat removed the earlier music and put in a classical CD. The strains of the violin and cello were a mournful dirge compared to the earlier music. The trip back was more subdued than their arrival, a blanket of silence had fallen over the car. The conversation focused only on various landmarks and items of interest. The earlier gaiety was forgotten, along with items put back on store shelves.
Claire wondered if Pat was warring with his emotions the way she was with hers.
Back at the casa, Pat repeated the process of gate procedures before once again opening her car door. After insisting on carrying her grocery bags to the casita, he set them on the table out front before bidding her good night.
Claire thanked him before he grumbled a reply and strode away.
What was his problem? Hot. Cold. Hot. Cold. Maybe this was that grumpy portion of his teddy bear nature. In her heart, she reasoned, it had nothing to do with her. So what had changed?
She opened the door to the casita with her key and flipped on the light switch. A soft yellow glow from the lighting drove the darkness away. The cheery blue and orange walls comforted her as she gathered the bags and brought them inside.
Claire set the groceries on the small café table next to the alcove. She placed the sparkling water and salad fixings in the refrigerator. A light dinner would work well, so she grabbed the egg carton before shutting the fridge door.
After putting a few eggs on to boil, she set about chopping onion, celery, and some pickles to make tuna salad. Her eyes watered as the onion’s spicy aroma met her nose. The knife hit hard against the cutting board with more force than necessary.
Why couldn’t she stop repeating the day’s events in her mind? It played on a loop that refused to shut down.
Scraping the onion into a bowl, she made quick work of the celery and pickles. She used the hand can opener to ply the top off the can, popping a bite of the savory fish into her mouth. Once the eggs were done, she added them to the other items before adding tangy mayonnaise to the mix. She slathered the tuna mixture on a slice of rye bread before adding another slice on top.
After cutting it into halves, she sat in the chair, munching on the meal. If this were only day one, what more did she have to look forward to with this man? On the one hand, he infuriated her, and on the other; she felt young and vital again.
She picked at the remnants of her meal before taking her plate to the sink. As she washed up, she stole a glance over to Pat’s house. Light blazed in a room and she wondered what he was doing. Was he reading, watching a show, or even working out? Or had he gone up to the Mirador, hidden from her view? But one question kept returning to her mind.
Was he thinking of her the way she was of him?
Finished with her cleaning, she undressed before shrugging into her leggings and tank top. She went through her nightly stretches, loosening the tightness that had gathered in her neck and shoulders. Teeth brushed and a dollop of cream applied over her face, she arranged pillows behind her on the bed. She opened the last place in her book, following along with Santiago as he continued his quest for treasure. As a literature professor, she’d read the book many times over the years. For some reason, it hit her differently as she read it this time.
A deep yawn emerged from her. She removed her glasses, and rubbing her eyes, peered at the clock. Two in the morning. She had been reading the same paragraph over and over. Not unlike the few times she’d been driving, only to wonder where her mind had been. As if the mind could go on autopilot while the subconscious took over.
She rose from the bed, stretched, and headed to the bathroom. As she clicked off her light, she went to the kitchen to grab water to keep next to the bed. The moon shone brightly against the black night sky. Grabbing water from the fridge, she glanced out the kitchen window. Pat’s house still had lights on.
He hadn’t gone to bed either. What was he doing?
She shook her head. What difference did it make to what he was doing? It’s none of my business.
Movement caught her eye, and she slunk back in time to remain hidden from sight. Pat stood in the doorway for a moment. His face hidden in shadow. Turning, he made his way toward the stairs up to the Mirador.
Claire’s breath caught. Her heart pounded.
Oh, no. Was she having a heart attack?
No. She’d had a checkup recently, and the doctor pronounced her fit as a fiddle.
A panic attack then. As far as she knew, she’d never had one.
Claire slumped onto the chair, taking five deep breaths.
Five in. Five out.
Better.
She continued to rub her chest. On the off chance something was going on, should she call someone, take an aspirin, or what?
Best to think about it. She hadn’t been exerting herself. She hadn’t felt dizzy on rising from bed. She drank enough water to not get dehydrated. So what caused this?
She stopped and laid her head against the cool tiles on the wall. Seeing Pat had caused it.
Why? Why had seeing him brought this on?
She was an independent, intelligent woman. Certainly Pat had some appealing qualities. So why the agitation?
Her breathing back to normal, she sipped the water. Her heart no longer beat wildly. She’d not had pain in her back or arm, nor nausea. No, this hadn’t been a heart attack or a panic attack. In fact, she hated to admit that it had been something far worse.
Attraction.
Claire woke to a loudspeaker calling out as a vehicle drove past the compound. At least that was a better wake-up call than the fireworks the day before. She stretched her arms out across her bed. A prolonged sigh escaped from her. She’d slept peacefully after ensuring her palpitations had more to do with infatuation versus infection.
If she hadn’t just been to the doctor before her trip, she’d have thought differently. However, when she chose to come to Mexico for dental work, she prioritized getting a checkup to ensure her overall health. She didn’t want to head out of the country and find her health an issue. She’d heard too many horror stories of women dying from heart attacks because they thought it was a severe case of stomach issues or back problems. A full wellness workup and bloodwork had pronounced her in great health. Her doctor said her health could put some younger folks to shame.
Even as a young woman, Claire had been wary of doing anything harmful to her mind or body. While many of her friends spent their days stoned, she’d broken away and education had become her drug. She couldn’t get enough of it.
Only one person had almost sidelined her.
So full of life and smart. In her first year of college, they’d met when she and Charles had collided while walking to class. Both had dropped books, and she’d helped him pick them up. Their love of literature kept them talking, and then their love of each other had them spending every moment together outside of class.
Then the draft found him.
And with it had taken all her hopes and dreams of their future together.
She refused to attend his funeral, but in the end, she went and stood away from his family. She recalled the guns going off and the sound of taps causing her to flee from the mirrored rows of white headstones.
No one ever tells you how grief envelopes your entire body into a bubble. You continue to walk around like everyone else, but no one can see it. But you feel it. You want to scream and break down at words, smells, and unbidden thoughts. Before long, others may even avoid you because they tell you you’re young, and you’ll get over it.
But she never did.
She graduated magna cum laude with dual degrees. From then on, her focus and love transferred to her students.
Claire blinked as the thoughts of the past faded from her mind. She turned on her side as the strains of an old song drifted through her open windows. Good Morning Starshine brought a smile to her face. One of Charles’ favorite songs. Claire wiped a tear from her eye. The memory was now more bittersweet than its previous deep wound, she smiled with the remembrance.
She sang along with the catchy ditty until she came to the part about the sunlight reflecting in a lover’s eyes. She stopped. Last night’s events came rushing back. This was the first time she’d felt the way she’d felt with Charles. The agitation and conflict had been the sweetness and the sorrow forcing itself back into her mind.
What drew her to Pat? The man was light and dark from one moment to the next. Of course, she chided herself. “You’re no spot of brightness yourself,” she said aloud. The song continued before moving into another uplifting song.
Claire forced herself from her bed. Nine in the morning. Another day she’d slept in.
But not surprising after her night. It must have been the full moon keeping her awake.
Claire went through her poses and had put the coffee on when she heard a soft knock at the door. Slipping on a silky kimono wrap, she belted it shut before opening the door.
Pat gazed at her robe before turning away. “Hello. Um, Claire. I hope I didn’t, um, wake you. I wanted to let you know, um, this is the day the housekeeper and gardener come. They’ll be here about ten-ish. If you plan on heading out today, that might be a good time to do so.”
He didn’t leave but didn’t act to walk away. She almost laughed at his half-hearted attempt to not look at her. Had she flustered him?
“Is there something else?”
“Um, no.” He strode away, leaving her watching him.
So no more fun ‘East Coast.’ Maybe he’d thought of the nickname as being beyond a landlord or a formal relationship. But he hadn’t hemmed and hawed like he’d just done. She stepped outside into the courtyard. “Is everything all right?”
He turned back to her. “Sorry?”
“I saw your lights on late last night.”
He hesitated for a moment. “Ah, you can’t choose when the muse hits.”
“Muse?”
“Yes, I’m a writer.”
Oh yes, she’d remembered the lady from the library saying something about him dabbling in writing. “Oh, what do you write?”
“This and that. Probably nothing you’d like.”
“I taught English for years. If you need an early reader, I’d be more than happy to—”
“I’m good. Thanks. Anyway, have a good day.”
“You too.”
He turned back towards her as if intending to say more. Instead, he waved as he walked away. Claire went back inside the casita, closing the door behind her. She moved toward the alcove when a knock sounded on her door.
Oh no. She hoped the housekeeper hadn’t arrived. She opened the door to find Pat.
“A few of us are heading out for a hike. It’s not rough terrain, but it’s better with some good closed-toe shoes or boots. If you’re interested.”
“When?”
“Thursday.”
“Oh, I can’t.”
“Oh, okay. Just thought I’d let you know. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to do something like that.”
“No, it’s not that I wouldn’t enjoy it. That’s the day I’m going to the dentist.”
“Oh, got it. I had to break down and get all new ones up here.” He tapped his top row of teeth.
Ah, no wonder they were so white.
“Not that bad. Just a crown and maybe some fillings. That’s why I came here.”
“Ah, so not a scouting trip, then?”
“Scouting?”
“People often rent for a while and scout out the area to determine if it’s suitable for living here full time.”
“That makes sense.”
He held his hand up. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Do you see yourself living here?”
She took a moment to think before she answered. “It’s growing on me.”
“Good to hear. Well, I’m off.” He waved as he made his way to the front gate.
Claire shut the door again. She’d always heard of people moving somewhere out of the States. And she’d certainly felt at home right away.
But live here?
Then again, she always liked books with a plot twist.