Hidden (Nicole Jones #1)(6)
He has never asked me anything like this before, and I know he believes he can trust me to tell him the truth. I give him what I can.
‘No.’
Steve’s face scrunches up as he registers this. ‘Why not?’
I shrug. ‘I guess I just don’t feel I need to.’
‘Is it because you don’t have a car? You can’t get around over there? I can take you, you know.’
I think about what it would be like, taking that ferry back across the water. I know if I do that, I will never return. So I shake my head again. ‘I don’t need to go, but thanks for offering.’ I try to make my voice light, like my behavior isn’t odd. But I know it is, and I know he sees it like that. I begin to wonder if anyone else has noticed I never leave, then dismiss that thought. Steve is the only person who sees me regularly and would notice. I am surprised it’s taken him this long to figure this out, but I chalk it up to the fact that even though we’re friends and we do see each other frequently, I still maintain a distance.
Steve is understandably confused; it’s all over his face. But to his credit, he doesn’t press it. ‘How about a game of Scrabble?’ he suggests, and I rummage through my closet and set up the board on the kitchen table.
The rain continues for the rest of the afternoon. Steve wins two games, I win one, and he reluctantly bids farewell and heads back home. I know he wanted me to invite him to stay for supper, too, but I tell him I have to call Jeanine. When he leaves, I do just that and make an apology: I am tired after getting up so early, hiking the Bluffs and then spending three hours with Steve. She offers to pick me up so I don’t have to take the bike out in the rain, but I beg off, repeating my excuses. I am not in the mood to see anyone else today. I have gotten used to my own company and enjoy the solitude.
I watch the gray clouds shifting back and forth. Flashes of lightning appear, followed by claps of thunder. I revive the fire and soon the house is cozier, the light from the sky reflecting through the window onto the flickering flames in the stove. I forget about supper and instead have a cup of tea and microwave a bag of popcorn. I doze a little on the sofa under an afghan I bought in the shop next to Veronica’s gallery.
I think about Steve’s question when I wake up in the dark, go into the bedroom, put on my pajamas and crawl into bed. I stare at the ceiling, for a fleeting moment wondering what it would be like, stepping onto land that is not an island for the first time in years. Would it be as if I’ve been on a boat and I’d have to find my land legs? Would I stumble, dizzy and uncertain about where to turn? The comfort of the island, knowing all its roads, its paths, its secrets, its boundaries, would be ripped away, leaving me exposed. I’m not ready to take that wall down, but I cannot ignore the feeling in my gut that something is about to change.
FOUR
In the days when I wasn’t Nicole and the sun was high and the sky was its clearest blue, I slathered baby oil on my skin and baked on a multicolored blanket on sand as soft as a featherbed. But today, a day just like that, I put on bike shorts and a T-shirt, cover my head with a helmet, fit my socks over my calves and tie my sneakers tight. The coconut scent of the sunscreen I use mixes with the honeysuckles and roses I pass as I fly along the country roads. It’s hard to believe that the island is only seven miles long and three miles wide when with each turn I see another long line of stonewalls, another pond, another lighthouse. Even though I believe I know each landmark, every inch of this island, I can still see things that are new. As I make one more turn, I see what it is today: the shad is in bloom, the delicate white flowers dancing across their branches. I stop to admire it, allowing me to catch my breath and take a drink of water from my bottle.
Another biker is approaching, and I raise my free hand in a greeting. I expect him to continue past but he slows down, comes to a stop next to me. Under the helmet, I recognize the man at the spa yesterday. I offer a tight smile.
‘Fancy meeting you here,’ I say.
His grin is broad, reaching across his face and into his eyes. ‘Love this island off-season,’ he says enthusiastically, and his tone is infectious. I feel my smile relax a little for a second before I reel it back in.
‘This is the best time to come,’ I say in my best tour guide voice. ‘May and September. The shops and restaurants are open, but the tourists haven’t arrived yet.’
He cocks his head at me and studies my face for a second. ‘Are you heading anywhere in particular?’
‘I’m going up to North Light. Have you been there?’
‘I’ve only seen it in a picture. Lead the way,’ he says.
‘You don’t mind a woman taking the lead?’ The flirtation is an instinct that comes back without warning, startling me.
His eyes twinkle. They are a deep chocolate, with laugh lines dancing around them. ‘I prefer it,’ he says softly, and I find myself staring at his lips. He notices, and his tongue flicks out for a second as he licks them.
I swallow hard, trying to ignore the warmth that’s flooded me, especially between my legs. It’s been a long time since a man has affected me like this, and desire rushes back and clutches me. My legs feel heavy, my breasts tender. I wonder if he sees it, if he can feel my longing without touching me.
‘I thought that was you at the spa, but you left so quickly, without saying hello. The woman there said your name’s Nicole.’ He’s challenging me, but I merely nod.