Fifteen
Thor
I can’t stop staring at the woman beside me as she sits completely enthralled by the majesty of the eagles and their young. She’s not smiling, but her face is soft and her eyes bright with excitement. I’m so mesmerized by observing every expression on her gorgeous face that I don’t notice the darkening skies. Only when the sound of thunder splits the air around us, causing Clover to startle and almost drop the binoculars, do I peel my eyes away from the alluring woman and glance at the sky.
“Crap.” I scramble to my feet, and reach to help Clover up. “Time to go, Love.”
She doesn’t argue, her forehead creasing with worry as she examines the tempestuous clouds.
I stuff the blanket and binoculars back into my backpack as fat raindrops begin falling and a streak of lightning splits the afternoon sky. We aren’t too far from the cabin, but the presence of lightning changes everything.
Grabbing Clover’s hand, I guide her as we slip and slide down the slick stone rocks, fighting to stay upright. The wind picks up and the cold rain comes down in sheets, causing the temperature to drop. I feel a tremor go through Clover as I tug her through the dense bushes.
“I know a place,” I yell over my shoulder. She nods and squeezes my hand. A renewed sense of urgency rushes over me. She trusts me to keep her safe, and while the storm isn’t the danger I’m hired to keep her from, I’m still determined to keep my word. I won’t take her trust lightly.
Gripping her hand, I lead her deeper into the forest in the opposite direction of the cabin, but the natural shelter is closer, and we’ll be safe there until the worst of the storm passes by. It’s a few minutes before we reach the cave. It isn’t deep, so we don’t have to worry about startling any bears. It’s a hole in a rock that allows us to stay dry and out of the reach of lightning.
I tug Clover’s shivering frame inside just as a flash of lightning streaks across the sky. Running a hand through my dripping hair, I look around the gray cave walls and give her a smile. “Well, this is nice and cozy.”
Glaring at me, she rubs her hands over her arms. “It’s freezing.”
In a blink, I have the dry blanket pulled out of my backpack and draped across Clover’s shoulders. “There you go.” I look outside to where it’s still a downpour. “If it lasts for too long, we can always cuddle for warmth.”
Clover scowls at me. “How about no?”
I raise my hands. “It’d be for survival, Love. That’s all.”
She wrings out her wet hair, a few droplets splashing on me in the process. “I think I’ll take my chances with hypothermia. ”
Chuckling, I lean back against the wall as thunder echoes around the small cave. I pray that the lightning will let up soon so I can hurry and get Clover back to the cabin. I lift my shirt, squeezing out as much water as possible. When I look up, Clover is staring at me, her eyes slightly hazy.
Slowly lowering my shirt, I cross my arms, flexing my biceps as I do. “Eyes up here, Love.”
Clover’s face turns crimson as she whips her head around. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I smirk, but let the subject drop. Being sure not to bump into her, I pat the ground toward the back wall. “It’s dry back here if you want to sit while we wait.”
“I’m fine standing.” She tugs the blanket closer around herself, leaning her shoulder and head against the stone wall as she watches the rain fall.
I brace myself against the opposite wall to give her as much room as the close quarters will allow. “I love the smell of summer rain.”
She sucks in a deep breath. “Yeah. Me too.” I think that’s all I’m going to get from her until she angles her head to look at me. “You have the perfect place out here.” Her tone holds a note of longing, possibly even envy.
“Yeah, it’s pretty special. I love Mom and Gunner, but it’s nice to get out on my own sometimes.”
“That surprises me.”
“That I like being alone? ”
She nods, her eyes focusing back on the rain. “You seem too extroverted to ever want to be alone.”
“Everyone needs to be alone at times.” I roll my lips together before cautiously saying the next part. “Just like everyone has times where they need to be with someone.”
Silence.
I scan her wet curls, shivering form, and dejected expression. “Who’s your best friend?”
Thunder crackles in the air around us as Clover stiffens.
When she doesn’t respond, I continue. “Who’s your favorite neighbor?”
A slight shake of her head as a muscle ripples in her jaw.
“When’s the last time you had a boyfriend?” Okay, that one was probably fueled by a selfish part of me that wants to punch every guy she’s ever been with, but I do want to help her see that she’s keeping herself from truly living. And she doesn’t have to.
Taking a chance that she won’t punch me, I draw closer, but not completely in her bubble. “Love, when’s the last time you’ve done anything with someone who wasn’t your parents or a paid bodyguard?”
Sighing, she slides her gaze to me. “Do you really think I want to be alone all the time?”
I shrug. “Then why are you?”
Clover turns to face me, daggers shooting out of those gorgeous violet eyes. “Not everyone is you, Thor.”
Cocking my head, I scratch my jawline. “It’s a good thing. I’m the worst. ”
She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “You know what I mean. Not everyone is as charismatic and comfortable around people as you are. It’s not that easy.”
I nod in acknowledgement. “I’m not saying it is.” Dipping my head to meet her gaze, I ask, “But when’s the last time you’ve tried?”
Sucking in a sharp breath, tears well in her eyes. Ah, crap. I want to nudge her, not make her cry.
“I’ve lived in the spotlight my entire life,” she says, her words a hushed echo within the cave walls. “Every little move I’ve made and every little thing I’ve said has been dissected and blasted all over the tabloids and social media.” Her voice grows stronger as she faces me. “There was so much pressure on me to follow Mom’s footsteps.” Shaking her head, she blows out a breath. “Everyone thought that I would grow up to be just like her. And I tried, Thor. I tried to be what everyone wanted. But I couldn’t do it. Did you know I was supposed to be in a movie when I was six?”
I shake my head.
Clover scoffs, but I sense it’s directed at the story she’s getting ready to tell and not at me. “Mom wanted me to play alongside her. And I was so excited. She always practiced her lines with me and told me how great I did at memorizing them with her.” She lifts a shoulder. “I didn’t understand most of them, but it was something that made me feel closer to her.”
I’m almost afraid to ask. “What happened?”
“I had my first panic attack. At six years old.” Sniffing, she wipes under her eye, and I long to pull her to me. Comfort her. But I clench my fists to my side and say a silent prayer instead as she continues. “Surprisingly, being on set with my parents behind the scenes is a lot different than the pressure of being in front of the camera.”
“I’m sorry, Clover. That must have been scary and really hard.”
Nodding, she brushes a tear off her red cheeks. “Don’t get me wrong, my parents didn’t pressure me. Mom was more concerned about my panic attack than the fact I couldn’t do the movie. But it still felt as if I’d let them down.”
I pray for the right words. Words that will heal and comfort her. “That’s a lot of blame to put on yourself. Especially when you were so young.”
“Yeah, except I kept having the attacks.” She burrows into the blanket, her eyes dropping to her feet.
Shaking my head, I give in and run my fingers lightly down her covered arm. “Those aren’t your fault.” I hook my finger under her chin and lift it gently until she’s forced to meet my eyes. “You know that, right?”
A soft puff of air leaves her lips, fanning across my face and I realize how close we’re standing. I’m not sure how we ended up here, but she’s not moving, so neither am I. “I tried again,” she whispers as my thumb grazes her jaw.
“Tried what?” My voice comes out gruff. I slowly drop my hand before I give in to my desire to kiss her. It’s not the place and definitely not the right time for anything so bold.
“To follow Mom’s footsteps. I’ve always loved reading their scripts, and when I was twelve, an opportunity came up for me to star alongside Mom again. I assured my parents I could do it. I had the script memorized forwards and backwards. When we were alone, I owned that role. Daddy told me I’d probably be a bigger star than Mom.”
“I take it that it didn’t go well.”
A bitter chuckle escapes her lips. “Not at all. Not only did I have a panic attack, but it happened on a day that a reporter was there filming a short segment about the upcoming film. It was posted on social media.” Shaking her head, she sighs. “I cried for two weeks straight and lost the few friends I thought I had. That’s when I begged for a private tutor so I didn’t have to be around anyone. It was too much pressure.”
Straightening her shoulders, she faces me. “So, after that it was just me, my tutors, and Gil.”
My eyebrow lifts. “And Gil is . . . ?”
“My cat.”
The corners of my lips twitch. “You named your cat after Gilbert Blythe?”
“Well, he was my first crush and all.”
“Huh. Aren’t we a perfect pair?”
Clover’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
I grin. “Your first crush was Gil, mine was Anne.”
“Megan Follows.”
Shrugging, I reply, “Same difference.” My gaze trails across her face. “I’m sorry for what happened to you. But none of that means you have to distance yourself from everyone. You can still have friends and—” I cut myself off before I say “a boyfriend” because the thought of Clover with a boyfriend has white-hot jealousy surging through my veins.
“Except every person I’ve ever tried to let into my life only wants to use me for what they can get from me. Money or fame.”
“Not me.”
Quirking an eyebrow, she crosses her arms. “You’re the paid bodyguard, remember?”
I move toward her. “You don’t think we could be friends after this is all over?” I ask, my voice coming out low and husky.
Her eyes search mine, a spark of hope in them before it’s doused out. “No.”
That single word is like a knife carving out my heart. But little does she know that I don’t give up that easily. However, it isn’t the right time for that, so instead I step back to allow her room to breathe. “I meant what I said earlier. None of that was your fault.”
She huffs. “That’s what my parents tell me.”
“They’re right. Just because they love their jobs doesn’t mean you need to. You love editing, don’t you?”
“Yes. I really do.”
There’s something in her tone that has me saying, “I hear a ‘but’ in there.”
Clover’s lips twitch, but the stubborn woman refuses to smile. “But I wouldn’t say it’s my dream job.”
“What is?” I cross my arms, watching her as she debates whether to allow me anymore insight into her life.
“You should know,” she finally admits. “Theater.”
“The script. ”
Nodding, she removes the blanket and begins folding it. I glance outside and notice the rain has let up.
“But like I said, it’ll never happen.” Her voice so sounds empty and sad that it makes my chest ache with the need to make everything right in her world.
“You don’t know that until you try.” I accept the blanket she hands me. Our fingers brush, and I can’t help but clasp her hand in mine, giving her a comforting squeeze as our eyes lock. “Clover, you are brave. You are strong. Your anxiety doesn’t get to define who you are or what you can accomplish. We have to remember that our identity is found in Christ.”
Giving her one more gentle squeeze, I drop her hand and stuff the blanket back in my backpack.
Our trek back to the cabin is quiet, but with each step I take, I pray that God will heal Clover’s heart and free her from her fears. And that He’ll use me to help.