Chevy Stevens - Always Watching

My mind filled with the image of kissing Paul, suddenly aware of the different feeling of Kevin’s mouth. I opened my eyes, and caught sight of Paul’s photo on the mantel. I pulled back, trying to catch my breath, disoriented, like waking from a dream, my thoughts sluggish. Kevin was watching me, confusion in his eyes, and also concern, his breath ragged.

I stood up. “I have to… I have to get something from the kitchen.”

In the kitchen, still flustered, I started picking up our dishes and running hot water, thinking, You can’t just leave him sitting on the couch. You have to say something. But what was I going to say? I’m afraid that my dead husband can see us? I felt a presence behind me and turned around, brandishing a scrub brush like a weapon. Kevin’s dark eyes were soft; his hand reached out to my wrist, holding me in place. He said, “Did you want me to go home?” It was the vulnerability in his face that did me in, shy, a little hopeful. I shook my head, not able to find words to explain the mix of feelings running through my body. I tugged my wrist free and dropped the scrub brush into the sink behind me.

He stepped forward, wrapped his hand around mine. My slippery fingers entwined with his, the scent of lemon soap filling the air. He pressed his body against mine, the hard edge of the sink bending me backward slightly, his mouth covering mine, soft and gentle. In my mind a quote came forth, Life is for the living. It was something Paul would say to me when I mourned the loss of one of our animals too long. I stepped outside of myself for a moment, stepped outside of the guilt and the fear of letting go, the fear of betraying Paul.

What do you want, Nadine?

I wanted Kevin to stay the night, wanted to feel his body holding me close in the dark, wanted the wonder and joy of exploring a new person.

I took Kevin’s hand and led him to my bedroom.

In the morning, I woke with a start when I felt a large male arm wrap around my body. My face warmed as images from the previous night flashed through my mind, each more erotic than the last, wondering how to handle the situation. It had been a while since I’d had to deal with the “morning after.” I eyed my housecoat hanging on the back of the door, wondering if I could get to it before Kevin woke. Kevin, sensing I was awake, pulled me tight against his chest. His mouth nuzzled my neck, sending shivers down my spine as he said, “Good morning.”

“Morning.” I wanted to lean back into his embrace, wanted to enjoy the moment, but the other part of me, the part that was no longer silenced by sake, wasn’t sure how far I wanted to take this, how far it could even go.

Kevin said, “I can hear your thoughts from here.”

I said, “Oh? And what am I thinking?”

“That you’d love to have dinner with me this week.”

My nerves came back alive, the sense of things moving too fast, standing on an edge of a cliff and it crumbling beneath my feet while I tried to backpedal.

“I don’t know…. I have a lot on my plate right now.”

He was silent for a couple of beats, then said, “I really enjoyed spending time with you last night, Nadine—and no, not just in bed.” He sat up behind me. I turned, so I was on my back, looking up at him. He smiled down. “But we can take this as slow as you want, okay?”

I nodded. “Thanks.” Wondering what “this” was to him. A one-night stand? A casual sexual relationship? Friends with benefits?

He said, “Can I at least have a cup of coffee before you kick me out?”

I smiled back. “I think I can make that happen.”

We had coffee, sitting at the table together, an easy familiarity already growing between us at the simple mundane ritual, passing the sugar and cream, our hands touching, sneaking peeks at each other over the rims of our mugs. I talked again about my concerns for Lisa, which had also come roaring back with the morning light. Kevin still thought I should wait another couple of days, and I could see the sense in what he was saying, but it didn’t calm my fears. Saying good-bye to Kevin at the doorway sent another wave of awkwardness through me, but he just pulled me in for a hug and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

As he started down the stairs, he said, “You let me know when you’re ready for that dinner, okay?”

I nodded and watched from the corner of my front deck as he walked down the driveway to his car, which he’d parked on the other side of the road. I heard a car start up farther down the street, then the sound of screeching tires. A truck roared past my house just as Kevin reached the end of the driveway. A couple of more steps out into the road, and it would’ve hit him. I let out a gasp and clutched the railing. He turned around, our eyes meeting. Did you see how close that was? He gave a don’t-worry-I’m-okay wave, but my heart was still beating fast as he drove away.

I was almost sure it was the same truck I’d seen slowing down in front of my house.

I called Corporal Cruikshank and explained about the truck, mentioning that I had seen it before, and that I’d found a footprint in my yard one morning and was getting some hang-ups. She took down the description of the truck, but I wasn’t positive about the make or model. She said I should try to get a license plate number next time, and be aware of my surroundings when I left my home. I had a shower and made the bed, all the while trying to convince myself that the truck had probably belonged to one of the college kids who lived at the end of the street. They often raced up and down, and I worried they would hit someone or an animal one of these days. The night I saw them outside, they’d probably just been texting or adjusting the stereo. But I was having a hard time believing it.

I wasn’t working that day, so I busied myself with chores. Though, I did take a drive by the Monkey House in case the drug addict had been lying, and Lisa was still there. I even checked inside again, but someone else was now staying in the room where I’d found her before. I also stopped by the hospital to grab a book from my office, wondering if I might run into Kevin. There was no sign of him.

Later that night I was cleaning up after dinner when the phone rang, showing a private caller. “Hello?” I repeated it several times, but was only greeted by silence. I said, “Lisa? Is that you?” Then I heard a click. I set the phone back down, a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. What if it had been Lisa? What if she was hurt, or sick, and couldn’t speak? Again I considered going to the commune and demanding to see her. I thought about Kevin’s words of caution. Damn it all. I had to know if she was okay.

I was in the process of getting my purse and keys together when the phone rang again. This time it was Steve Phillips.

“I was able to get hold of a friend with a cadaver dog. He was planning on doing some training exercises anyway, so he’s going to come up to Shawnigan tomorrow, and we’ll take a walk down by the old commune, see what we sniff out.” There was an edge of excitement to his voice. “Did you want to join us?”

“Please.” My blood surged with new hope. If they found something at the site, they might bring Aaron in sooner. If there was enough bad press, the retreats might even shut down. I explained to Steve what had transpired the day before.

He said, “It’s possible they targeted Lisa.” I sat down on my hall bench, fear taking my legs out from underneath me. “But she could’ve also got that drug addict to make up the story to throw you off. Either way, if she’s in there, she probably won’t like you showing up. I’ve got a grown son. He was hell on wheels in his twenties. He always did the opposite of what I wanted—just to piss me off.”