Chapter 7 Aila
Chapter Seven
Aila
I’m tired of all the pretense and denial. I can’t keep up with my mother’s spin doctoring anymore. We’re here for the summer, so I might as well set the record straight with this man.
“There are ways to turn a one-night stand into a relationship if you know how to go about doing it. My mother always had an angle. She gave her cell phone number to just about anyone who asked for it. Dude wants a one-night stand with her? Phone number—with the promise of sex being a possibility in the future. Another dude wants to treat her to a steak dinner? Phone number—with the promise of a second date if he really spoils her.”
“What was her point?” Theron looks interested and intrigued. Like a student attending a lecture by a professor they idolize. I’m surprised he isn’t taking notes.
“The law of averages. One of those dozens of men will fall in love with her enough to offer us a home.”
“Us?”
Heaving a sigh, I explain. “Yes. Part of my mom’s patter was to wring as much pathos as she could out of our situation. Single mom. Her horrible parents. Struggling to make ends meet looking after her young daughter. Meeting him has been the only joy she’s had in a long time… and so on.”
Pushing my plate away, I sigh.
“Do I have to spell it out for you? My mom might just be the greatest salesperson in the world. And our complicated family dynamic was her product.”
I have no idea why they keep the light out of this dim breakfast room, but it suits my mood.
“Why did you stick around?” Theron is unemotional about my story. I like that. He looks at the situation with analytical clarity. “What are you now? Twenty-five?”
“Twenty-eight.”
I see his eyes get wider. “Damn, darlin’. You’re nearly thirty. You should get a move on before—” He cuts off the rest of what he was going to say.
“Before I end up like my mother?” The sarcasm in my voice could melt steel.
Leaning his elbows on the table—which makes it creak under the stress—Theron confesses. “Yep, I was gonna say that, but can we get through this conversation without taking offense?”
He’s got a point.
“We would skate by until one of the men asked my mom to move in. I would move in too, of course. I have to admit, it was heavenly in the beginning.”
The cute pink girly bedroom. The closet full of clothes and shoes. The toys, house, cars, and garden.
“I’ll tell you why I’m sticking by my mom, Theron. It’s because she stuck by me. I was always included in her plans. I was always part of the deal. No exceptions.”
He looks skeptical. It riles me up the way he leans back in his chair after linking his hands behind his head. He looks relaxed, but I know he’s getting ready to pounce with another judgment.
“I feel you, Aila. I do. But I don’t think your mother would still be single if your li’l system worked.”
“Allow me to share my insights about the male psyche with you, Mr. Rabane.” My little smirk gets an answering smile from him.
“My mom scored her first sponsor when she was twenty. He was loaded. Rich beyond our wildest dreams. But whenever my mom brought up the subject of marriage, he would tell her to wait. Turns out, the wealthiest men prefer to marry women from their own background and status. You want to know what he said when my mom finally got the courage to leave him?”
Theron lifts an eyebrow. “Enlighten me with that scumbag’s point of view.”
“He said, ‘why marry the cow when you’re getting the milk for free?’”
It still hurts, even after ten years. I called that man “Dad” for God’s sake! He would introduce me to everyone as his daughter, only for him to kick my mom to the curb when she turned thirty-five so that he could marry a trust fund baby in her twenties.
“So, we eventually came to Canada. My mom had saved enough to allow me to finish college if I took out a small student loan. She had zero work experience and no academic qualifications. But we made it work.”
“What were you studying?” Theron is back with his elbows on the table, studying my face keenly. I think he’s waiting for me to crack, to start crying about my lost childhood home.
Standing up, I brush away the question. “Doesn’t matter now. I flunked out. Are you in the mood for another hike? Let’s go swimming in the creek.”
He hesitates. Have I scared him off with my brutally honest background info dump?
“I can take you for a ride around the island. Would you like that?”
Yes. I would love that. Even in the gloomy atmosphere of the breakfast room, Theron is this weird combination of attractive and dangerous. Yes, he could totally take advantage of me if he really wanted to, but he has this way of dominating the direction of my thoughts without being bossy about it.
He’s not gentle, but he’s most certainly tender. My mind flicks to what it might be like to lie with him on my narrow little bed…
“If that won’t be getting in the way of your plans for the day, that would be nice.”
“Heh.” That gruff laugh; the one Theron uses when he’s appreciating a joke he knows I will never understand. “I have no plans other than to be with you, Aila. And I’m hoping we can get out of here before your mother comes looking for us.”
“‘Nuff said.” Suddenly I feel lighthearted and free.
I think I needed to get that off my chest—about my mom and the endless succession of men in her life.
My mother doesn’t bother hanging out in expensive wine bars anymore when she needs to find another boyfriend.
She goes online and uses dating apps. The men who show an interest in her have gotten older and less inclined to discuss marriage, but they have been kind and as generous as their circumstances allow them to be all the same.
I wish I could say the same.
“Let’s go.”
Theron’s head brushes against the rafter beam on the sloped ceiling when he stands up. “I’ll meet you at my motorcycle. Can you remember which one it is?”
“Sure.” Giving him a wave, I head out. Ben Magoo’s pickup truck is swinging into the parking lot in front of the inn. He gives me a cheery smile and touches his cap.
“Morning, Miz Aila. Is your momma ready?”
That stops me short. It crosses my mind that my mom might have finally found a husband on an isolated island in the middle of a backwater creek. Not very glamorous, but kind of cool if it’s true.
I know my mom very well by now, so I feel confident enough to say, “She should be with you in a jiffy, Ben.” My mom never fucks up a first date by being tardy.
“Can I give you a lift anywhere?” Ben offers and then points to a small wooden structure painted red on the near horizon. “That’s the Heiners’ general store if you want to buy some candy.”
What did my mom tell this man about me? How old does he think I am?
“Er, no thank you. I’m good.”
Another brief wave and then his view of me is obscured by the clubhouse. I see a small sign above the door. It’s in German:
“Denn die Todten reiten Schnell”
What the heck kind of a motto is that? But then some of the pieces fall into place. The trace of a foreign accent when Theron speaks. The odd syntax and grammar he sometimes uses.
The clubhouse door opens. I take an involuntary step back.
If this dark stranger is Theron, then he is dressed like a spaceman.
No, an astronaut. The helmet is totally black, and the visor reflects my surprised face back at me.
There’s a black bandana round his neck, and he’s wearing full biker gear: leather jacket, jeans, gloves.
“Whoa! I hope you’re not expecting me to wear an outfit like that.
It’s summer.” My hopes of treading cool water next to Theron as he indulges me with a preview of how he looks in swimming trunks goes out the window.
“Is there a tarmac highway on Landslide that I should know about? What’s with all the protective gear? And do I need some?”
The mirror surface of his helmet glares back at me. “I don’t make the rules, Aila. I just follow them… and I would never let any harm come to you. Trust me.”
“What does that mean?” I point to the sign over the door.
“‘The dead ride fast.’ Or you can translate it to say ‘the dead travel quickly.’ Both are adequate.”
Shoot. If they ride that fast, I can see why there’s a rule to wear protective gear all the time.
He holds out his hand towards me.
What the heck. Live a little. He must already know that I’m not here to say no.
I take his hand and we walk to the motorbike together. Our shyness at what we are about to do makes us kinda polite and bashful, at least as far as I’m concerned.
The writing is on the wall—and this time it’s in my handwriting! I really want this.
He helps me onto the raised seat and waits for me to get comfortable before straddling the rider’s seat, too.
“Hey, what does the ‘H’ stand for?” Last night, the patches on his jacket said “Midnight Riders” and “Landslide” on the back and “T. Rabane” on the front. Now, it says “H. Rabane.”
The black helmet turns. Again, I can see my face in the reflection. I look… wild. No makeup, hair mussed, tank top pulled tight across my breasts.
“It is—was—my father’s.”
I want to ask him what happened to the jacket he was wearing last night, but he guns the engine and shuts me off.
Am I giggling and gasping as the wind whips my hair behind me like a mad cat’s tail? Yes. We’re not riding that fast; there’s just enough speed to keep my skin cool from the rising heat.
The route he takes sends us on a rambling course around the island. There are no beaches or sandy shores, only steep riverbanks that plunge down into the water.
Landslide in summer is as gorgeous as the online reviews said it would be. Sun-dappled ripples lap at the coastal brink, promising refreshing water temperatures and maybe even the occasional shoal of small fish.
Kingfishers dart in and out of the reeds. Herons stalk among the bulrushes. And on the slopes of the hill, well out of the way of forest shadows, wildflowers blow in the breeze.
But it is into the forest shadows where we are heading. Veering off the circle road, I feel Theron increase the revs as we climb the hill. My skin prickles as we move into the shade. That’s the problem with playing in the sun; everything feels chilly afterwards.
He must have felt me shiver. And yet he takes me deeper into the forest. It’s dark and damp; all traces of sunshine are gone. Ugh.
We’ve traveled about as far down the narrow trail as we can go. Realizing this, Theron cuts the engine and lifts the bike onto the stand with one push of his powerful legs.
I’m waiting for him to remove his helmet and show me some sign of the allure that brought me this far, but no.
Lifting me off the seat as if I were a featherweight, Theron puts me down gently.
“Are you coming?”
I stay right where I am. “If there isn’t a sunny spot at the end of this trail, Theron, then no, I’m not coming.”
“You won’t need the sun to be warm, Aila.” For one moment, I think he’s making a romantic statement, but then I realize he’s referring to the fact that I can put on his jacket if I start to feel a chill.
Grrr! His dominance is fucking off the charts! I have been able to pull back my urge for physical intimacy for so long, but my strength is waning.
Again, he seems to order me to follow him without even saying anything. “I promise that you will love it in the end.”
“Such a mystery... Okay, spaceman, lead the way.”
The path is so narrow, Theron has to walk in front of me. The sound of his boots thumping on the mossy track has a mesmerizing quality to it—as does my magnificent view of his ass. Mother Nature was in a good mood when she made this man. I am lulled into a false sense of security.
He stops and seems to look around. Changing direction slightly, the black helmet swivels from side to side “See? Do you like it?”
He stands sideways, letting me push past him, but I’m already on edge after all this suspense.
“This better be goo—”
It is good. Better than good. In front of me is a grotto.
A shallow cave carved into the rock. The moss is thick on the ground and dotted over with the tiny white umbrellas of fungi.
Overhead, an impenetrable canopy of tree branches filters the sunlight, turning everything a subtle shade of yellow-green.
Falling to my knees, I crawl into the hollow. Everything is so soft and fragrant.
“I love it.”
Kicking off my sneakers, I pat the space beside me. Since our first conversation at Harry’s Saloon that night, we have been heading towards this moment. Why deny it?
He stands in the shadows, making sure of my invitation. Only when he is positive that I am not about to change my mind does Theron remove his helmet.
I’m glad I came. I’m happier than I have been for a long time. A restless energy begins to build up inside me, bursting for release.
Even though I have never seen his hair under the sunlight, the tawny leonine colors bring me life.
The way he sweeps the tangled mess back before unzipping his jacket while never taking his eyes off me makes the heat rise in my blood.
He’s brooding and feral. And I am all alone in the forest with him. I doubt if anyone even knows I’m here.
The danger gives my sexual appetite a twist. Crazy as it sounds to be turned on by the risk, it is true all the same.
“I think you were born for danger, Aila.” His teeth glow white in the shade. Hooking the back of his t-shirt in one hand, Theron pulls it over his head.
I must hold my breath to stop myself from reaching for him. The desperate longing that surges through me at the sight of his hard flesh is intense. Hopping from one foot to the other as he removes his boots and socks, Theron teases me.
“Am I the only one giving a striptease here? Come on, darlin’. Throw a dog a bone.”
Kneeling, I unbutton my cut-off jeans and pull them down. It’s just me, my panties, and a tank top. “Now you again.”
After giving the tree canopy above him a quick glance, Theron drops trou. Of course, he’s not wearing underpants. And of course, he’s even more perfect than I could ever imagine.
I am in for what my mom’s girlfriends refer to as a ground and pound, because this man is handling some heavy equipment.
Stepping out of his jeans, he kicks them aside.
“You look good enough to eat, Aila,” he growls, drops to a crouch, and comes prowling closer.