A Crowe's Song Page 6

  “I know it’s kind of late…” he muttered as he checked his watch. There was no telling how long I’d pretended to read, so I had no clue what time it was. “But I was hoping you might want to hang out. I would’ve come sooner, except I was stuck at The Feeder.”

  I glanced down at my well-worn tank top and tried my best to ignore the oily spot just above my left boob where a drop of tartar sauce had fallen off a fry. “Yeah, sure. Absolutely.” I paused to take a breath, hoping that would calm my nerves and slow my excitement. For all I knew, he needed a partner for beer pong, and I was the only available person he could ask. “Just let me change my clothes real quick.”

  He carefully assessed my outfit, taking a bit longer to observe the cotton house shorts that only barely covered what they needed to. When he met my stare again and spoke, his voice dipped even lower, grittier, raspier. “You don’t have to.”

  Coherent thoughts refused to form. I couldn’t bring myself to open my mouth, roll my tongue, mold my lips, and repeat any of the countless words I’d learned in my lifetime. Instead, I dropped my chin and headed for the comfort of my cabin. Without meeting his eyes, I opened the door and invited him in. And much like last night, I pointed to the couch in a silent command to sit while I scurried off to the bedroom to change.

  Less than two minutes later, I returned in a pair of jean shorts and a clean shirt. Drew seemed to appreciate my change of clothes—if the grin playing at the corners of his mouth meant anything. Then again, it only lasted a split second. As if realizing his reaction, he quickly stoned it and averted his gaze, keeping his attention set on the floor between us. “That was fast.”

  “Well, I mean…I don’t know what we’re doing or where we’re even going—if anywhere—so I just grabbed the first thing I found.” With his refusal to look at me, everything became awkward.

  Drew ran his hand over the dusting of dark hair along his jaw and chin before finally finding my eyes. And once he did, the heat from his stare melted away whatever discomfort had been between us. “The weather’s nice, so I thought we could watch a movie on my dock.”

  That definitely caught my attention. I wasn’t sure how feasible it was, but I certainly wanted to find out. He was right about the weather; it was nice, but it paled in comparison to the company. “Yeah, that sounds like fun. What movie?”

  “I figured I’d let you choose. I have an arsenal of titles, so you shouldn’t have trouble picking one.”

  Not wanting to give myself time to chicken out, I slid my feet into a pair of sandals by the door and followed Drew to the golf cart.

  Unlike our earlier drive to his house, this one was spent without a word shared between us. The silence seemed to stretch on and on, and I wanted it to end, so I uttered the first thought that came to me. “If you don’t mind me asking, why do you want to give all this up?”

  We must’ve been closer to his place than I realized, because before he could answer, he brought the cart to a complete stop and turned off the ignition. Subtle moonlight peeked through the branches and used the trees surrounding us to cast shadows on his face, hiding his expression from me. “It’s meaningless at this point.”

  I prayed for some way to see him, to see his eyes, for the tiniest chance to read his thoughts. I needed his expression—the lines in his brow, the creases beyond his lashes, the curve of his lips—to help me direct this conversation. However, my angels delivered something else instead.

  I set my hand on the cushioned seat between us, not realizing that his hand was already there. The warmth of his skin cut through the cool breeze that rustled the leaves around us. The connection was strong enough to keep me from pulling away yet soothing enough to settle my nerves and allow me to continue.

  “From what you said last night, it sounds like your family has put their whole hearts into this place. And I imagine at one point, you have, too. Just because you don’t feel that their initial purpose is still valid, it doesn’t mean you can’t create a new one.”

  Drew flipped his hand over so that his lay on top of mine. The warmth of his palm seeped into my skin, heating my entire body like a match. A fire. A blazing inferno. One simple touch to one part of my body had the ability to ignite in me flames of desire, comfort, and as odd as it sounded, a mystifying understanding. When he spoke, his voice covered me like a protective veil—a heavy blanket made of thick wool, shielding me from harmful elements.

  “You said yourself it’s a lot of work for two people. Which is true. Normally, we get by just fine. We each get two days off a week, and most of the time, we waste the rest of our days away in the office with our feet propped up. We have twenty cabins, and in two weeks, twelve will sit vacant. Next week, ten. If we are at half capacity, then it’s a good week for us. Dad and I still have the same responsibilities, except it takes a quarter of the time to do it.”

  “There are so many ways to get your name out there that could help this place stay busy. I don’t see why you can’t have fifty-two weeks like this one. This place is beautiful, Drew. I’ve only been here two days, yet I already feel like I belong. I can’t be the only one who comes here and gets this sense of hope and purpose.”

  He squeezed my hand and blew out a sigh, making it clear that he was over this conversation. I couldn’t fathom any reason why he’d toss all this to the side without at least giving it a chance to flourish. But I was in no position to argue with him about it—what he did with this resort had nothing to do with me.

  “I’m sorry, Drew. I didn’t mean to pry. I just see so much potential in this place.”

  “Why are you so interested in it?” His tone seemed weighted with irritation, although his touch—and the way he ran the pad of his thumb over my knuckle almost lovingly—spoke of emotions that were nowhere near negative.

  Before the shock of his question waned enough to answer him, a bulb affixed to the corner of the roof came on and bathed him in a warm, soft light. It was just enough to see his tranquil expression, proving that his inquiry was nothing more than simple curiosity.

  He glanced over my shoulder toward the corner of the house where the light came from and laughed to himself under his breath. “Stupid cat,” he muttered as if to explain the sudden interruption. “I have no idea where it came from, but he’s been coming around every night. He rubs up against that corner of the house, and as soon as the motion light flicks on, he takes off. You’d think he’d learn by now, but he hasn’t.”

  I wanted to laugh with him, participate in this bunny trail and forget all about our conversation. But I couldn’t do anything other than watch him, lost in the sight of him staring off into the distance, as if he could see where the cat went. And as much as I wanted to sit here with my hand in his as the trees rustled around us like our own personal ballad, I knew I couldn’t.

  Worried that he would remember the question that had gone unanswered—because I didn’t have an answer to give—I released his hand and asked, “How about that movie?”

  Drew shook his head as if breaking free from his thoughts and brought his attention back to me…with a smile that nearly made me squeeze my legs together. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he leaned toward me, practically into me, making me believe that he was about to kiss me, when really, he was just reaching behind us to grab a canvas shopping bag. The worst part, though, was the twinkle in his eye as he moved away and climbed out of the golf cart.

  It seemed I had failed at hiding my desire.

  Fortunately, the trees along the path offered enough darkness to recover as I followed Drew down to the lake.

  The dock was T-shaped with no barrier along the straightaway and a waist-high railing enclosing the entire end. It didn’t seem very safe without anything along the sides to keep me from falling in, so I remained right behind Drew, using the moonlight to see where we were going.

  As we passed the boat, which was tied up halfway down, I thought about our outing earlier today. More specifically, remembering—in vivid detail—our kiss beneath the s
teeple. I was so lost in my memories that I almost ran right into him. Again. If I had managed to fall into him twice in one day, he’d think I’d done it on purpose. Luckily, though, I caught myself before he had a chance to notice the near stumble.

  Drew leaned over and took off the lid of a portable firepit that sat in the open space at the end of the dock. A few seconds later, a flame crackled in the night, and several seconds after that, the beginnings of a small fire offered enough light to see what we were doing.

  Moving the lid out of the way, he pointed to a large, outdoor storage locker against the railing on one side. “The cushions for the chairs are in there. Do you mind grabbing them for me, please?”

  While I retrieved the astonishingly comfortable outdoor cushions and placed them on the chaise lounges, Drew busied himself with the projection screen. Once he had it all set up, I was quite surprised. It wasn’t anything fancy, but the ingenuity of it was impressive. I could tell he had manufactured it himself with a large white canvas and two black poles he had anchored into the dock to keep the screen stretched and pulled tight. It was at least five feet tall by seven feet wide.

  “Here, take your pick.” He passed me an iPad and took a seat on the chaise next to me. I’d clearly been too focused on the movie screen, lost in utter fascination, because I didn’t have a clue where he’d gotten the device.

  Scrolling through his film library, I found titles I’d never heard of, ones I had, and a few that seemed so old I halfway wondered if he’d downloaded them by accident. On the third screen, however, I stopped on a photo of Mark Wahlberg and noticed it was for a movie I’d wanted to see but never had, The Gambler. “This one,” I said, tapping on the title.

  It took a couple of minutes for Drew to hook up the projector and settle in next to me, but once he did, I had a hard time staying focused. The opening scene filled the projection screen, the sound playing through a speaker behind us, except none of it registered. We sat with maybe one foot between our lounge chairs, not touching, not talking, not even looking at each other. Yet somehow, the energy around us was so strong that there was no way we weren’t connected at all.

  I turned my head and noticed him watching me.

  The firewood crackled and flames flickered.

  His gaze narrowed, and his lips parted.

  Heat swarmed me, smothered me, breathed me in, though I couldn’t pinpoint the source. The firepit wasn’t close enough for its warmth to cover me this way, which meant the consuming heat was caused by his stare. The way he looked at me held an air of importance unlike I’d ever felt, as if he was about to utter the most important words I would ever hear.

  “This place is a curse.” His whispered confession swathed me in the palpable pain embedded in each word. “You say you feel like you belong here, but that’s because you can leave. You’re not stuck. You’re not sentenced to this life like I am.”

  My heart ached for him—the lonely boy regarding me through Drew’s eyes, the lost soul sitting next to me, and the loyal son who wouldn’t leave. I wished, more than anything, that I could make this right for him. To unlock his cage and set him free. Let him spread his wings and live the life he was meant for.

  “Does your dad know this is how you feel?”

  “No, I can’t talk to him about any of this. He’ll let me go—I know him, and he won’t keep me here if he knows I’m this miserable.”

  “Okay then!” I rolled to the side and shifted on my elbow, moving slightly closer to him. “So talk to him. If he won’t hold you back, what’s stopping you?”

  Drew closed his eyes but didn’t turn away. “He’ll let me go, just like he let my mom go. But that doesn’t make it any better—it’s still abandonment, regardless of how you look at it. He didn’t hold my mom back. She felt trapped here and left. Dad never said a negative word about her, never voiced his pain or anger or anything. It was obvious she’d hurt him, but he never let on how much.” His eyes opened and found mine, the flickering flames dancing in the endless pools of onyx.

  “Let me see if I got this straight… You won’t leave, even though he won’t hold you back, all because you know he’ll be upset or hurt? He’s your dad. You’re his son. I’m sure he only wants you to be happy.”

  “You don’t understand, Kenny.”

  “Then help me understand.” I sat up and faced him, completely forgetting my earlier decision to stay out of this issue. With my elbows on my thighs, I leaned forward to close as much of the distance as I could. “Explain it to me, Drew.”

  The movie continued to play, although neither of us paid any attention. The sound effects and action scenes rumbled the speaker behind us, yet it went unnoticed. His eyes remained locked on mine, watching me as if I were some live-action film in front of him.

  And the night became ours.

  “Thanks to my grandmother, this place—this lake—is my dad’s entire life. Without Black Bird, he has no purpose. He believes that one day, either in his lifetime, mine, or my children’s, his family will return. I’m his only kid, which means if I leave, that day may never come. And that’s a disappointment I refuse to hand him.”

  My heart skipped a beat. Then another. Then another. It clenched and burned in my chest, restricting blood flow. My face heated, icy tingles filled my fingertips, and a stabbing sensation attacked the backs of my eyes.

  I waved my hands in the air between us and shook my head. “Wait a minute. You’re going to have to back up about a mile, because I’m pretty sure I’m missing something. Why would he have to wait for his family to come back? Where’d they go?”

  Drew sat forward, grabbed the canvas sack he’d taken from the golf cart, and pulled out a can of beer. Popping open the top, he scooted the bag closer to me, a silent offer to help myself. To my surprise, I found more than just beer inside. Along with his cans were bottles of wine spritzers. If I hadn’t been so absorbed in his story, I might’ve smiled at his thoughtfulness.

  “There was a mandatory evacuation for the entire town set for noon on July fifth, because the valley was set to flood on the sixth. A crew—presumably belonging to the sheriff’s department—was ordered to go door to door and verify that each house and building was vacant. The dam would remain closed until all of Chogan had been checked and double-checked to ensure the town was entirely empty. Then they’d confirm there was no way to get back onto the land, sign off on the vacancy verification orders, and then give the power company the okay to lift the dam the next day.” He paused to take a drink, swallowed, and then met my eager stare. “Except, that’s not what happened.”

  The suspense had me on the edge of my seat, literally, and I wasn’t sure how long I’d be able to keep from interrupting his story to ask questions. It was a bad habit of mine—I didn’t have much patience when consumed by anticipation.

  “The dam opened nearly twenty-four hours early.”

  “Did everyone make it out?” Yup, I knew that wouldn’t take long.

  Sadness cloaked his intense gaze as he shook his head. “An entire family went missing, and when people started to question the authorities, they were dismissed. The sheriff’s deputies swore up and down that every building was empty by noon that day. They had records of that particular house being vacant. Except no one could answer why none of them were ever heard from again.”

  “Did they ever say why the dam opened early?”

  “When questioned about that, they apparently had all kinds of excuses. First, they tried to say it had always been slated for the fifth, but at some point, I believe paperwork was found that disproved that claim. Then they brushed it off by saying the entire town of Chogan had been cleared by the crew, and to prevent any vagrant from wandering into the area, they decided to flood it early…even though they already had provisions in place to avoid that very thing. Eventually, the questions stopped, but the family never showed up.”

  “And you think they died in the flood?” At this point, I was pretty much holding my breath.

  “To be hon
est, I have no idea what happened to them.”

  My head spun with questions and suspicions and every typical assumption I’d learned from my obsession with crime dramas. Except they were all flying through my head at once, creating a chaos of concerns that made it impossible to concentrate on just one thing. “If the whole town knew the plan, how could they possibly think they could get away with lying about when the dam was supposed to open?”

  “Because my grandmother was the only one asking questions…and keep in mind, she didn’t live in the area when this all took place. It’s easier to lie to someone who wasn’t aware of a situation until after the fact.”

  That gave me even more to think about.

  While I contemplated what he’d told me and tried to make sense of what I could, Drew pulled a restaurant to-go box out of the canvas bag. Normally, I would’ve been over the moon at the sight of bite-sized chocolates, which I assumed came from The Feeder’s dessert menu, but not this time. Instead, I was too busy organizing my thoughts.

  Although, that didn’t stop me from indulging in the sweet treats.

  “You know how I told you last night that you should never call this Lake Bennett?” After I nodded in response, he sucked his lip into his mouth and dipped his chin for a second. When his gaze locked with mine again, I knew this was something worth listening to. “The Bennetts owned a lot of land in Chogan, which means they practically ran the town. They called the shots.”

  “Hold on.” I held up my hand to keep him from continuing until after I could ask my question. “I assume your grandmother is the one who told you these things since you said your dad never lived there. And considering the lack of Chogan residents visiting Black Bird since the flood, does that mean all these stories came from one person?”

  “Yeah,” he said with a slow, uncertain nod that made me wonder if I’d offended him. “But she grew up in that town, so she knew who the key players were. It wasn’t like she moved away when she was a kid and didn’t have any knowledge of the politicking that went on.”