Waiting on the Rain by Claudia Connor
32
Luke woke from a dream, a slight variation on the standard. This one morphed from running through smoke in Afghanistan to running toward his Hannah teetering on the edge of a building, to running toward his parents. He never made it to any of them in time.
He looked at his watch. He’d only slept an hour. He reached for Ava but she wasn’t there. He found her standing outside on the porch. “Hey. You sleep about as well as I do.”
“I get days and nights mixed up sometimes. It’s worse here, not being on a schedule. New York might be loud, but its night noise is different than its day noise. I thought I heard it raining.”
Little droplets dripped off the roof. “Looks like you did.”
“Yeah. I missed it.”
“You know you could go stand in the bathroom shower.” He slipped his arms around her from behind, pulled her back against him and rested his chin on her shoulder. “I’ll even stand with you.”
“That’s very generous of you. But it’s not the same.”
“No. I guess not.” He’d spent plenty of days and nights in the rain. It didn’t appeal to him, but for her, he’d stand in a soaking shower.
They stood together in a comfortable silence, listening to the light sounds of insects and intermittent dripping off the porch overhang. He ran his hands down her arms to her waist and around to hold her close from behind.
Ava drew a finger in absent circles over his bare arm. “I checked my email while I was up.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. I didn’t get the consulate job. They decided not to fill it.”
“I’m sorry. I know you wanted it.” He was sorry, for her. But knowing she wouldn’t be so far away…
“Thanks.”
“You’ll go back to the UN?”
“Yeah. That was in the email, too. A subtle nudge.”
“To get your pretty ass back up there? Solve world peace?”
“Not my boss’s exact words.”
“Better not be.” And God he wanted to ask her to stay, was figuring out a way to do that without asking her to sacrifice her life. Maybe he should offer to go to New York. He was sure he could do it, but for her? He’d be a fool not to try. Maybe he’d be smart to think on that, on all his options, before he posed them to Ava. She was a smart woman, a woman with a career and plans and fears on top of that.
And he didn’t just think he was falling in love with her, he was in love with her. And he knew without a doubt she wasn’t ready to hear it. A change of tactics was in order.
He slid his hand up her thigh, under the edge of the shirt. “You have anything on under here?”
Laughing, she batted his hand away. “Maybe.”
He held her tight, finding what he was searching for and finding she did in fact have something on underneath. “A shame, but probably for the best.” He took her hand and stepped down two steps. “Come on, I want to show you something.”
“What? Now?”
“Yes, now.”
“In the dark?”
“It’s not any darker for you now than it is in the day, right?”
“No, but you—”
“Come on. I have excellent night vision.”
She sighed. “Okay, but, wait. I need shoes.”
“Don’t need ‘em.”
“You might not, but I do.”
“Nope. This is full service.” He turned his back to her, guided her hands to his shoulders. “Let’s go, Bennet. Hustle up.”
Ava hopped on his back,and held tight around his neck as he loped across the grass. It wasn’t more than a few minutes when he stopped.
“Okay. Here you go.”
Her feet landed in soft, cool, grass; little droplets clinging to her ankles.
“Right around here. That’s it. And put your hands here.”
Rope. She felt thick, rough rope in both hands as her fingers closed around it. “A swing. You made a swing?”
“Yeah. Had some extra wood, some time. Thought the kids might like it.”
She scooted back until she felt the solid line across the back of her upper thighs. “And you thought I might like it.” She rose up on her toes, scooted her bottom onto the smooth, wooden seat.
Luke stood in front of her and covered both of her hands with his. “Do you?”
“I do.”
Luke leaned in until his forehead touched hers. Did he know what that made her feel? Then he was gone, backing up and pulling her feet with him.
“Hold on.”
She held tight as he drew her and the swing up and up then let her go flying back.
When she swung back toward him, he pushed her feet to keep her going, making her go higher.
“You know most people push a person on a swing from behind.”
“Most people aren’t looking at you.”
Her heart dipped into her stomach. It wasn’t just the swing, though there was a sweetness in that that struck her. It was more. It was the things he said, the way he said them. Blake had never said those things. Because he hadn’t been able to see her? Because he didn’t mean them? Did it even matter why? No, it didn’t. Not when she was with Luke. Not since the first time Luke’s lips had touched hers.
Nothing else mattered when she was with him. Luke could see her and he wanted her. They both knew he could still have her in his bed without carrying her out for midnight swing. But here he was. Here they were.
Luke watched her tilt her head back, her hair float behind her. A soft smile rode her lips, as soft as the night air around them. The dream that had woken him slipped away under the night sky with Ava.
“Can you really see out here?”
“I can. The moon is out, bright enough to cast shadows on the ground.”
“What’s it like? The moon? I’ve always tried to imagine it.”
Luke caught her feet and brought her and the swing to a stop. Then it was just the sound of the night.
“Hop up.” He smoothly switched their positions, then pulled her down in his lap. “Now. The moon. It’s a circle. Here, give me your hands. Put your thumbs together.” He moved her fingers until she was making a circle with her thumbs and forefingers. Then he held it up until the circle she’d made matched the moon in the sky.
“It’s there. Yep. That’s it. Of course it’s bigger in person, or so I’ve been told. Haven’t actually been there. You can stare at the moon as long as you want and it doesn’t hurt your eyes. I’d call it a silvery light. It’s a fact it’s cold in space, and it looks kind of cold; it doesn’t blast heat like the sun. It’s not a yellow light. Did that do anything for you?”
“Maybe.” She lowered her hands, rested them on his arms. She mostly just liked hearing him talk. The way it made her feel knowing he wanted to give her something.
His legs were long enough he could hold onto her and still move them back and forth with his feet on the ground.
“How would you describe yellow?”
“Yellow. Hmm… Happy. Maybe because a lot of flowers are yellow. Lemons. Summer. Awake. And if it’s a bright yellow, then hot, because of the sun.”
“Red?”
“Ahh, red,” he said with a hint of wistfulness in his voice. “A woman in a tight dress or a fast car. A little dangerous.”
She laughed. “Why dangerous?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Because dangerous women wear red? Long red nails that would cut a line down a man’s chest.”
“Seriously?”
She craned her neck back, shot him a grin over her shoulder, and damn it, he felt that clutch in the belly again.
“Not me, personally. Just an impression. I’m giving you my impressions. And maybe dangerous because blood is red.”
“Okay. That makes sense. Pink.”
“Okay. Pink…A little girl laughing? Twirling in a dress. Your lips after I kiss you.”
“Green?”
“Spring. Moss, grass, life. Leaves before they turn yellow and brown.”
“I thought yellow was flowers.”
“It can be. But this is a softer yellow. A gradual shift from green to yellow and orange, and sometimes red. Then brown and the leaves fall. Not all of them, but most of them.”
“So brown would be leaves?”
“Sometimes. And a horses muzzle. A leather jacket. A saddle.”
“And your eyes?”
“Yeah. How’d you—”
“My sister in-law told me. What about blue?”
“Your eyes,” he said without hesitation. He didn’t think he’d ever think of blue and not think of her eyes. “Like the sky. A clear blue sky on a summer day. Or any day really when it’s bright and clear. Makes me want to fall in, swim around.”
“Why swim?”
“Ahh… Maybe because water is blue? Not all water, but the most beautiful water, in my opinion. Water that’s cool but not cold. Warm but not hot. The kind of water you’d want to dive into, float around in. That’s your eyes. Makes me want to dive in, stay awhile.”
She turned in his lap, caught his face in her palms. “I don’t know what to say to you sometimes.”
He didn’t reply and she didn’t need him to. For a minute she just held him there, his face in her hands, her fingers spread over his cheeks. When she leaned in, put her forehead to his it was like seeing, or she imagined it was. Like having that moment she’d read about when two people looked across a room and their eyes met. It was that. Except it was their hearts.
That’s how it felt. Like she was seeing him, like they were seeing each other.