A Silent Heart_A 'Love at First Sight' Romance Read online

  Sliding the bodysuit over my head and doing the clasps at the crotch, I pulled up the shorts and zipped them up. With a minute to spare, I ran back into the bathroom and smeared on a pink chap stick that was nearly the color of my actual lips, so it only served to make them slightly shinier.

  Staring in the mirror, I realized I looked like something from the Babysitter’s Club books. As the doorbell rang, I also realized that there was no time to alter my appearance. You know, when I’d pictured myself going out in a boat with Prince Eric, I’d been wearing something a little more feminine―like a dress in various shades of blue with a matching, oversized bow in my hair… my hair, which had also been beautifully red, long, and knotless.

  Grabbing my bag on the way to answer the door, I moved swiftly past my mother who was passed-out on the sofa and willed Tanner not to press the bell again. I didn’t want to wake her and explain where I was going.

  Breathing hard, I opened the front door and found Tanner. He looked amazing in a pair of casual, faded jeans and a fitted black shirt. It didn’t scream ‘going fishing’ to me, but maybe he had a khaki button-up and a pair of old man shorts in his truck. A girl could hope. Otherwise, I was going to look juvenile next to his manly good lucks.

  Hang on a minute, I signed and ran back into the kitchen. I scribbled quickly on the fridge notepad and then set the note next to the full bottle of wine on the island. Mom wouldn’t miss it that way. Then, I went quickly back to Tanner, pushed out into the still-dark morning, and took a deep, deep breath. It felt like we were running away, stealing freedom while the world slept.

  That was dumb, but you can’t control how you feel.

  We were almost to Tanner’s truck before I realized he was staring at me. With wide eyes, I stopped, let my gaze rove over my outfit, and then saw what he must be seeing.

  I’d forgotten shoes.

  Covering my face, feeling the blush take over like a wildfire, I told myself not to cry. A hand touched my shoulder lightly then and I dropped my hands to find Tanner’s wondering face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  What do you mean―what’s wrong? You were staring at me and I don’t blame you. I’m totally stupid. I hit my head lightly with a closed fist―‘stupid’.

  “I was staring at you because you look beautiful, Laurie. I mean… what the hell time did you get up to look this way?” He waved a hand up and down, indicating me―my clothes, my hair, my face.

  Are you making fun of me? I crossed my arms over my chest after signing.

  “Laurie, I really don’t know why you’re getting mad.” He sounded sincere.

  Look, I made a ‘v’ with two fingers and pressed the ‘v’ next to my right eye before moving it outward. Then, I indicated my bare feet.

  Tanner looked down, confusion still plain on his face, and then he broke out into a wide grin. The dimple sprung to life and it made my heart skip a beat. “Oh.” He tried not to laugh. “Honestly, Laurie, I didn’t even notice.”

  When I realized he hadn’t noticed, that I could have gotten into his truck and both of us been none the wiser that one of us wasn’t wearing shoes, I tilted my head back and gave myself over to the humor of it. My shoulders shook, my body shook, and I opened my mouth slightly, even though I knew nothing would come out of it.

  But something did.

  The barest hint of sound. The tiniest spirit of a laugh. The faded impression of a chuckle, left over from my happier days.

  I slammed my hand over my mouth, eyes gone wide.

  “Laurie, did you … did you just laugh?” Tanner moved so close to me that our bodies touched.

  Maybe. I signed with one hand. I don’t know.

  “Do you still want to go fishing? Should you go see your doctor?”

  No. I shook my head hard and fast. No, I want to go fishing with you. I’ll email her later.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I nodded.

  “Then you might want to go grab some shoes.” He smiled again and before I could turn around to sneak back into the house, he leaned forward and let his lips brush softly against mine. I wish he hadn’t, because it made me a clumsy fool as I tumbled back through the front door to grab my sneakers. It was a total miracle that I didn’t wake my mom up.

  Chord A minor.

  We were in the boat by seven, floating along Beech River without another boat in sight. The sun was still hidden by the trees around the lake, but sending tendrils of yellow upwards to filter through the leaves and branches. It made the whole scene a little heavenly. There was even a chorus of birds to join the soft swish of the oars pushing through the slate-colored water.

  Tanner had taken the long way around the lake, putting us on the opposite side of what the locals called Redneck Island. He said it wasn’t exactly in line with the rules to park in the woods and launch from there, but the fishing was better and we’d be less likely to share the water with other boats. He’d been right about the latter part.

  His boat, his jon boat he called it, was called the Angela after his mother. It had an outboard motor attached, but he said rowing would scare the fish less. I could tell this was something he’d done for a long time, all of his life maybe, and it made me happy that he’d want to share it with me.

  After a short while, Tanner stilled the boat and put his hand in the lake, trailing his fingers through the wetness for a moment. “This is a good spot,” he said, smiling and giving me that one-dimpled face I was becoming too quickly enamored of.

  How can you tell?

  “Instinct.”

  Who taught you to fish?

  “My grandfather.”

  I would have guessed your dad. Father and son sort of thing.

  “No, my dad left when I was little.”

  Oh, God, I’m sorry. I only signed ‘sorry’, but thought the rest. Working my fist furiously against my chest, indicating how badly I felt for bringing up his father.

  “Don’t sweat it. It was a long time ago.” When he’d finished signing, Tanner handed me a red fishing pole, the lure’s pointed hook secured around one of the little metal circles that kept the line in place. “Here, unhook this,” he instructed me while miming the action and I did my best to follow his directions. “And then let the lure swing freely for a moment, let it steady itself. You got it?”

  I nodded, feeling more nervous than I had in a long time, infinitely more nervous than I had on our actual first date.

  “Okay, now the trick to casting is a flick of the wrist. It needs to be clean and sharp. Watch me first.” Tanner stood up, handing a cobalt blue fishing pole with visible expertise. The pole was less new looking than the one I held, with places where the paint had flecked off and the metal beneath had begun to rust. From what I’d seen, Tanner wouldn’t allow his tools to fall into disrepair. His jon boat was clean as a whistle and the pole I held looked brand new, although I had a feeling it wasn’t. Tanner must have seen me studying it, because he explained, “This was my grandfather’s. He never really did much other than rinsing the rod and reels off with water and hanging them to dry. Not the best way to care for a fishing pole.”

  But it’s your favorite, right?

  “Yeah, it is.” Tanner stood, positioning his feet wide for balance, unhooking his own lure, and letting the fishing line swing and settle before quickly jerking it over his shoulder and then forward again. The lure flew through the air in a steady, slightly-curved line, and then it plinked into the water with the most satisfying, miniscule splash.

  That was perfect. I made double ‘okay’ signs with my hands, letting my lips part in appreciation.

  Tanner laughed, rocking the boat a bit with the movement. “I’ve had a lot of practice. You try now.”

  Do I have to stand? I grimaced, using two fingers of one hand to mimic a standing position against the palm of my other.

  “It would probably be easier to feel how to flick your wrist.” He held out his hand to me and I took it, feeling alive with the touch of him, even if it was s
imply hand against hand. He pulled me up slowly and I let him, trying to keep my body in check so I didn’t send us both into the lake.

  When I was standing, feet farther apart than was necessary, I tried to do what Tanner had done. I let my already-loose line swing until it stilled itself. It seemed a little longer than his had been, but I jerked my arms back and then brought them forward, giving a firm flick of the wrist like he’d said. Not that I’d actually seen that part. His movement had been too fast.

  I jumped and dropped the reel when I felt something snag the back of my shorts and cut into my leg. It only took a few seconds before I felt a trickle of warm dampness. Owwwww! I made an ‘o’ with my right hand and then a ‘w’, holding the ‘w’ for longer and dragging it across the air like I was yelling.

  “Guess I should’ve had you reel in the slack first.” Tanner had the good manners to look chagrined as he spoke and rubbed the back of his neck. Of course, he was also repressing a smile. “Don’t move.”

  Holding still as the boat rocked back and forth wasn’t an easy task. He leaned down, assessing the damage, and then he moved to his knees. I winced and jerked away when his fingers first touched the lure. The hook wasn’t only caught on my shorts; it was embedded in the back of my thigh.

  “It’s the very tip, caught in the curve. Try not to move.”

  Easy for you to say. I signed, even though he wasn’t looking.

  I stiffened when his right hand curved around my leg, right beneath the frayed hem of the shorts.

  “Sorry, I need some leverage.”

  I nodded, focusing on the touch of his hand on my thigh. I gave my full attention over to the way it felt, the way it sent little bolts of lightning through my body. It was nearly enough to keep me from feeling the jolt of pain when Tanner pulled the hook free. Nearly, but not totally. I yelped mentally, and a barely-audible squeak of pain filtered from between my lips. Again, in shock, I slapped my hand over my mouth.

  “I definitely heard you that time.” Tanner stood quickly, his eyes finding mine. “Laurie, this could be a good sign for you.”

  I must have looked like a deer in the headlights, because he put a hand on my shoulder.

  “There’s nothing to be scared of here. This is a good thing.” He stressed the last bit, trying to convince me.

  Turning away from him, I took a step toward the edge of the shallow-bottomed boat. It tilted her down. Tanner must have tried to follow me, because the lip of the boat pushed even closer to the water’s edge. Suddenly unsteady on my feet, I leaned back, trying to right the boat’s center of balance. Tanner thought I was falling and he reached out to catch me.

  Feeling my body press against his was too much, too overwhelming, and I wanted to get away.

  I couldn’t explain it―the panic that took over my mind. Maybe it was the feeling of our closeness, maybe it was the fact that for the second time, a sound had escaped my body. A sound. A sound that could lead to speaking. To singing. To being fully alive again. Or… maybe it was that Doctor Marks could be right, that the muteness could be all in my head.

  Somehow, if that were the truth, it would be worse than having had cancer in the first place.

  I don’t know how he managed it, but Tanner kept us from falling into the lake. “Sit down, Laurie.” He gently pushed my shoulders, pushed them until I relented, bent my knees, and sat on the cool surface of the metal built-in bench. Subconsciously, I knew Tanner was moving us toward shore―using the motor this time to speed the way―but consciously, I could only focus on one thing: trying to hum, trying to speak, trying to wonder if all this time I’d been holding myself back? Why?

  Fear? Ross? Why?

  I’d wanted to scream in the past year, but never more than I did then with my brain going a mile a minute and the jon boat whizzing toward shore so quickly that my hair flew about my face wildly. Why were things coming back now?

  It couldn’t only be Doctor Marks pointing at something psychological versus physical. Psychosomatic she’d called it.

  Tanner let the boat run aground instead of backing his truck up so the trailer would enter the water enough to load it. We were still for several minutes before he said anything.

  “Laurie, are you okay?”

  I was afraid to move my hands or open my mouth. I was afraid that any utterance, nonverbal or otherwise, would break me apart. My world was already moving about like a tilt-a-whirl, colors flashing by in nauseating blurriness.

  “Laurie?” Tanner asked again, this time touching my knee. I pulled away from him, sinking ever deeper into myself. “Laurie, talk to me. Please.”

  I looked at him, blinking away tears I hadn’t realized had come. They had though, little fingers of salty wetness finding their ways down the curves of my cheeks, dripping from my chin, pooling in my collarbones.

  I signed slowly, deliberately. Doctor Marks told me that… I hesitated, not wanting to repeat the doctor’s words… my inability to speak might be a head thing and not a body thing. I could have spelled psychosomatic. As a paramedic, Tanner would have known what that meant, all the implications of it, but I was embarrassed by the possibility. Putting it as a ‘head’ versus ‘body’ issue made it easier to digest.

  “Okay. So something’s changed then. Something that’s letting you make small sounds involuntarily.” Tanner stood, hands on hips, and then looked at his truck. “Here, let’s get you out. I’ve got a blanket in the truck. Breakfast too. Let me load up the boat and we can talk.

  I’m not hungry.

  “You demanded breakfast. Don’t say I went to all the work of buying scones at the bakery for nothing.” Tanner feigned mock surprise and hurt feelings. It wasn’t enough to erase the frown on my face. Still, I took his proffered hand and let him help me out of the jon boat. I stood still as he fetched a colorful blanket and straightened it across the patchy grass before also getting a large cooler and putting it down on the ground adjacent to the patchwork quilt. I let him help me sit down and I stared off across the rippling lake while he loaded the boat and re-parked the truck a short distance from where he’d set up the breakfast picnic.

  When he sat beside me, I kept my eyes on the water.

  “The coffee should still be hot. Do you take cream and sugar?”

  I ran my index finger across my forehead, indicating I liked it black. I still didn’t look at him though, taking a to-go cup he offered that was hot to the touch, nearly too hot, but I liked that. It brought me back to reality a fraction and gave me power to look away from the lake and at Tanner.

  I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Tanner. You set up an amazing second date and I’m ruining it.

  “You’re not ruining anything.” He handed me a blueberry scone and I took it, letting a small smile show my thanks. “These things happen more often than most people realize. Trauma doesn’t only affect the body, Laurie. It affects everything. If it is psychological though, isn’t that a good thing? Think about what could go wrong with surgeries if it was only physical. This is a blessing.”

  If it’s true. I jabbed my pinky finger harder than necessary into my cheek for ‘if’. It hurt, like the hot coffee cup hurt my hands a little. Another reminder. Another pull away from oblivion.

  “If it’s true, yeah.”

  We sat in silence for a while, eating scones and sipping on coffee. He had several plastic containers of fresh fruits also―pineapple chunks and strawberries and mango.

  I don’t know what he was thinking as he ate and looked out over the lake. Honestly, I don’t know what I was thinking either.

  “Laurie, I’d like to continue seeing you, but I also know that you might be feeling overwhelmed. I don’t want to push into your life when it’s bad timing. It’s been a long time since I’ve even considered jumping back into the dating pool. For a while there, I figured I’d be married to my work. Then I saw you―laid out on the pavement staring at me with those wide eyes.” Tanner stopped talking for a moment and took a deep, shuddering breath. “You’re the fir
st girl I’ve asked out in over three years. I was so rusty that first date, I was afraid I’d freeze up like the tin man.” He wasn’t signing, like the words were coming to fast and too hard and he could only concentrate on one thing―and that was expelling them from his body vocally.

  I wiped at my eyes, drying the last remnants of the tears. When Ross left, I didn’t think I’d ever want to be with someone again. We’d been together years. Years. And he left me because cancer was ‘too hard’. Who does that? How thin was our love for him to do that? I finger spelled more than I normally did, like―in my own rush and concentration―I could not recall signs, even though I knew them well.

  “That was on him, Laurie. Not you. That had nothing to do with love.” Tanner dropped the unfinished bit of fruit he’d been holding and slid his palm down the length of his jeans to rid his hand of any leftover juices. “I should have brought some sanitizer or something.” His eyes found mine and he smiled before reaching his hand toward my face and using his thumb to gently wipe away a dribble of strawberry juice from my chin. He placed his thumb in his mouth, licking away the sweetness. “Still a little tear salty, but not bad.”

  It was my turn to smile. I do want to keep seeing you, Tanner.

  “Alright,” he exhaled, long and hard, like he’d been waiting for me to sign exactly those words, “I don’t want to go back to being lonely.”

  I feel the same way.

  It was a good thing that Tanner parked us on the opposite side of the lake, away from where it was normally busy. It was good that he’d chosen a secluded, overgrown access road with an ill-kept ramp that was only supposed to be used for official business. It was good that, save for a several-foot gap in the lakeside brush in front of us, the blanket and our bodies were mostly hidden from view in case of passing boats.

  Because Tanner brushed away the crumbs and cups between us and he moved toward me, wrinkling the quilt as he moved until it was bunched up between our two bodies. The first kiss was chaste, like our first outside the bar. The second kiss was more exploratory, with tongues and teeth and little sighs of silence.