A Way (The Voyagers Book 1) Page 5

His question caused her to blush, pushing from her a girly, nervous laugh. She cursed herself for sounding like a giddy teenager and brought the beer bottle back up to her lips. “Depends on what kind it is.” She was only slightly kidding.

  Was it possible she was already hungry again? How many hours had gone by since she had first pulled off the main road to this place in the woods? She instinctively looked at her wrist, to check the time on the watch she never wore, and remembered the phone wedged in the pocket of her jeans. Dex distracted her when he began unloading sandwich ingredients, onto the island she was seated at, then expertly started constructing two sandwiches. Spreading mustard on two of the four pieces of bread, not looking up, he challenged her.

  “In the time it takes me to make these, you can ask me any question you want, but after we eat, I get to ask you anything.” He glanced up at her, mischievously. “Deal?”

  He peeled some black forest ham out of its deli wrapping and dabbed it on a paper towel before placing it on the mustard kissed bread.

  “Deal,” she smiled. Questions had been swimming in her mind since he tossed her that cigarette the previous night.

  “Full name.”

  “Dex Martin Sharpe.”

  She smirked. “Any relation to Doc Martin?”

  “Next question.” It was his turn to smirk.

  “What do you do?”

  “What? Do you mean besides make amazing sandwiches and having a great taste in wine?”

  His eyes shifted to the counter under a shelf housing a microwave, to a box of wine she hadn’t noticed before. Jessie raised her eyebrows at it. How unlike me to enter a room and not have my vision directly pulled to that. My favorite brand even. The neon green time on the microwave display winked at her. Exactly three o’clock. She had been there for just under two hours. She felt like she could stay forever.

  “I work in catering and volunteer at a dog shelter.”

  Two words popped into Jessie’s mind. They rhymed with heart and melting. Really, a dog shelter?

  He sliced a tomato, two slices for one sandwich. One slice cut in half for the other.

  “Age?”

  “Twenty-four.”

  A year and a half older than me, I would’ve guessed that.

  Dex had his back to her to rinse some romaine lettuce under the water streaming from the tap. He turned back to the kitchen island and made sure the leaves were completely dry before using them to top the almost completed sandwiches. She only had time for one more question.

  “Why me?” She stared at him, gauging his reaction.

  He gave none, except to cut their lunch into perfect diagonal halves and slide the one with less tomato, towards her. “Ask me that again, later. You don’t want your sandwich to get soggy.”

  He was right, she hated soggy sandwiches. Jessie considered herself far from being a picky eater, but too much tomato and wet lettuce touching the bread was enough to make her gag. He had made her the perfect sandwich, exactly how she liked it. Her questions could wait.

  Trying not to reveal too much of what was going on behind their teeth, their conversation turned to small talk as they ate: the weather, the cottage, dogs he had met at the shelter. Jessie had always been a dog lover, but apartment life forced her to push the urge to bring home every one she passed on the street. She was curious why Dex, obviously a dog person, didn’t have a few wandering around the cottage, waiting for crumbs to drop onto the floor. It must be the city apartment living excuse. Too bad, it would have been nice to have a dog around this weekend.

  As if on cue, a bark interrupted their chatter. Dex put down his almost finished sandwich and got up to open the back door, located in a mud room, just off the kitchen. She heard the pitter-patter of nails hitting linoleum before she saw who joined them for lunch.

  “Jessie meet Duke,” Dex moved aside to let a dog she recognized barrel past him into the kitchen.

  Jessie couldn’t believe it as she bent down to pat the soft fur behind the dog’s ears.

  “Hey buddy,” she said. Stroking his head she looked up at Dex. “I know this dog. I mean, I met him earlier, outside the restaurant in Madison. That’s a thirty minute drive from here.” There was no way this dog could be the same dog that had greeted her when she entered, and again when she left, the diner.

  Jessie’s revelation didn’t seem to phase Dex. He knelt beside his dog and explained that Pete had taken him into town earlier to pick up Samantha’s designer beer, that Dex had forgotten, accidently on purpose, the day before.

  “Were you exploring, Dukie?” He asked his panting companion. The shaggy dog’s response was to lick the floor beside Jessie’s chair, which no doubt had a layer of crumbs on it. If graceful wasn’t her middle name, messy may have been.

  Dex straightened and moved her empty plate into the double sink, while Duke remained enthralled with the abundance of unintentional leftovers on the floor, and Jessie finished her beer. She dug her vibrating cell phone out of her pocket, before it vibrated her right off the stool she teetered on, and saw three text messages from Ger. Nothing urgent. Her response could wait.

  Dex stretched across the counter with a devilish grin. “My turn.”

  Duke’s arrival made her forget their pre-sandwich deal.

  “Ah yes,” she backed slightly away from him, to get a better view of his changing expressions, and crossed her arms. “You can have three questions to equal the number you so graciously allowed me.”

  She was getting used to their banter. They both had a competitive streak, maybe they could play a game of chess later. She had spotted a board in the room with the leather couch.

  He thought for a moment and looked up at the ceiling in mock concentration. “Full name.”

  Easy. If he had her phone number she was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

  “Jessica Leia Westley”. Her brother wasn’t the only Star Wars fan in the family. “Jessie Westley,” she cleared her throat. “Next question.”

  “How long have you lived in the city?”

  “A little over three months.”

  “Why was last night the first time you decided to talk to me?” His last question caught her off guard, it had all been going so smoothly.

  “What do you mean? Have I seen you at Central before?”

  “Jessie, you saw me long before you even knew Central existed.” They held each other’s gaze, both equally intense. It was a staring contest that neither of them cared who won.

  She broke the connection first and laughed a little louder then she intended. “What the hell does that mean?”

  The staring contest was over. He grinned, this one reaching the lines springing faintly from the corners his baby browns. “Another question for later, maybe you should start writing them down.”

  Banter had never been more infuriating or fascinating. She would let him play his game a little longer. She trusted his eyes, hoping her instinct hadn’t just lost that one point she was so proud of awarding it earlier. She twisted around on the kitchen stool and hopped onto the floor. Duke peered up from his floor treasures and crossed behind her to his water dish. Question period was over and she was no closer to getting any answers.

  *******

  With her belly full, surely she wouldn’t have to eat again that day, Dex handed her a fresh beer. This time he trailed her into the room where his friends had switched from playing games to listening to music. A ballgame was on the TV, the volume muted. They sank down into the more comfortable than they looked beanbag chairs, Jessie setting her beer on the side table, Dex holding his loosely on his knee. Adam gave them a quick rundown on what was happening in the game. Jessie was more of a hockey girl, but she listened intently to his exuberant play by play. Samantha had moved to a spot on the floor, in front of the stereo, a plethora of CD’s scattered around her.

  “What do you guys want to listen to?” She said ‘you guys’, but her question was directed to Jessie.

  “I like anything.” Jessie knew that was th
e easy answer, but she really did. Samantha glanced around her and reached for a CD, buried under three others to her right, and held it up.

  “How about this one?” It was Jessie’s favorite band, of course it was. The way things were going she half expected her grade school best friend to walk through the door.

  She watched Samantha. Her short hair was clipped back behind her multiple piercing filled ears. She was dressed in a black baby doll dress, bright patterned tights and a pair of the socks Dex had told her about. With one swift motion, she opened the player, inserted the selected disc, and turned up the volume before the anticipated tunes started. When the music filled the room, Samantha looked as if she wanted to get up and dance, thought twice about it, and skipped back to her spot on the couch. She tossed one leg over Pete and reached to grab her beer off the coffee table.

  Jessie coiled her legs under herself and tried to look interested in the game. The players were inexplicably moving to the beat of one of her favorite songs. She caught Dex’s eyes and smiled. She felt comfortable, content, like she had just climbed out of a warm bath, wrapped herself in a fuzzy robe, and settled beside a wood stove for the night. What was the number for that shrink?

  Samantha sprung up again. Jessie liked how she couldn’t seem to sit still, a bumble bee bouncing from flower to flower. She buzzed out of the room and returned carrying a bag of Oreo’s, a thirst quenched Duke on her heels. She knelt down, beside Jessie, and leaned over to whisper in her ear.

  “I’m so glad you are finally here, Jessie.” She held up the bag of cookies. “You’re far from crazy. Cookie?”

  CHAPTER 10

  The afternoon slowly turned into evening. The group got a little bit louder and in Adam’s case, disgusted, as he watched his team lose by one run in the ninth. Pete asked Jessie about her writing, volunteering to her that he liked to draw. He liked her suggestion that he illustrate the cover of her future book that had more of a chance of writing itself back in her apartment, without her there to interrupt it. Samantha switched the music to some sort of 90’s dance torture and tried to get Jessie to join her in the chorography that accompanied it. When she was unsuccessful, Dex declared it was time to move outside to start the fire he had mentioned to Jessie. She flashed him a ‘thank you for saving me from uncoordinated embarrassment’ look. Maybe we have met before.

  Jessie welcomed a bit of time outside, regardless of how comfortable the chair, she had spent the late afternoon in, was. The sun that graced them with its presence when she first left Madison had quickly hidden itself again, forcing them to remain inside for the reminder of the day. A disappointed Samantha didn’t seem to share Jessie’s enthusiasm towards movement, but went off to find her a fully intact pair of socks anyway. Jessie wanted to look through the closet to find a sweater that was heavier than the one she purchased from the boutique in Madison, but first she picked her phone up, off the wobbly end table, and re-read Ger’s texts.

  Should I be worried? Sent at, 1:02

  You went to meet that guy didn’t you? I hope he showered Sent at, 1:14.

  Ger was used to the perfectly groomed, not a hair out of place, probably wearing skinny jeans, type of guy. Jessie definitely was not, and smiled to herself, picturing the towel dried hair, t-shirt, doc wearing guy upstairs.

  Ok, only semi-worried, but text me back OK? Sent at, 1:45.

  For Ger to go from probably not worried to maybe a bit worried in forty-three minutes meant she was probably worried. There was another tone Jessie could detect, but she didn’t have time to decipher it. Jessie sent a text that she hoped would tamp down her friend’s thoughts without having to get into a long texting session.

  In the country with Dex and a few of his friends…..he’s nice, don’t worry. I wrote the address down on the junk mail on my kitchen table….text you later xoxo. Send.

  Jessie switched the phone ring tone setting to silent. She made a promise to herself to make more of an effort to look at it more often. Along with the convenience of a cell phone came the paranoia that an emergency was sure to happen during the five minutes since it was last checked.

  She was standing in front of the open closet, contemplating its contents, when Dex returned from putting on a plaid shirt to cover his t-shirt, reached past her, grabbed an oversized, bright yellow, pullover, and handed to her. She held the heavy sweater back from herself, considering it.

  “You’re kidding, right? I’ll look like big bird.” She handed it back to him. He handed it back to her.

  “A very cute big bird, yellow is your color.”

  Funny, she thought, pink has always been my color, but pulling after it over her head and checking herself in the mirror she realized he was right. The first thing she would do when she got back to the city was buy more yellow. It made her mousy, sometimes blond, hair shine with a brightness she was only able to achieve with a full summer in the sun. Her reflection smiled at Dex who was watching just over her shoulder. What was next? Would he pull a pug puppy out of his jacket? Here, I figured you always wanted one.’

  Adam yelled from down the hall. “Where are the marshmallows?” No pug puppy had appeared.

  *******

  Jessie and Dex substituted their beers for ginger ale, neither had thought about food again, until Adam came out of the kitchen carrying a cooler full of hotdogs, buns and condiments. It also contained smores ingredients and a not yet opened, oddly shaped, bottle full of a purple liquid that reminded Jessie of a drink her best friend’s big brother would pick up for them before a high school dance.

  “It’s for Sammy,” Adam explained as he passed them in the hall. “Why that girl can’t drink like a normal semi-alcoholic, I’ll never figure out.” And then to Pete who was exiting the cubby they had spent the afternoon in. “She’s your girlfriend man, you carry it.”

  He tossed the jug to him, like a football, and bounded out of the house before Pete could protest.

  Samantha appeared at the top of the stairs with a triumphant, ‘found some’, and skipped down them like a baby deer. She thrust the socks into Jessie’s hands, who sat down to pull them on. She rubbed her fingers over the cashmere soft material, more than once, her chilled feet, instantly warmed. Dex grabbed both her hands to help her up. They stood with their fingers entwined for a few frozen seconds, forgetting that the sock providing Samantha was standing a few feet away. His eyes. There was something about his eyes and the way he looked at her. Jessie couldn’t put her finger on it. She hoped that would be part of the answers he had promised to provide.

  Samantha cleared her throat, a little embarrassed, a lot impatient; she had stood still too long. Dex and Jessie turned to look at her, dropping their hands to their sides. Pete passed his girlfriend the bottle Adam had thrown at him and together they descended the porch stairs and crossed the lawn to a crudely made, yet perfectly functional, fire pit. There were already four chairs forming an uneven circle around it and Adam set down the cooler to grab a fifth one from the garage.

  Samantha claimed a seat at the far side of the not yet burning fire and patted the one beside her for Jessie. She produced a plastic cup from inside the front pocket of her Packers hoodie. Jessie accepted the invitation and watched Samantha expertly hold the two liter bottle between her knees, twist the cap off and pour the fruity drink up to the rim of her portable cup. Concentrating on not spilling her sweet beverage she slowly moved to face Jessie.

  “Want some?” Samantha offered.

  Jessie shook her head and held up her glass of red wine splashed ginger ale. “Thanks, I’m good, but maybe later?” She did like to revisit her teen years, through drink, every now and then.

  Samantha set the bottle down, leaning it up against the leg of her chair to prevent it from falling over. They both sipped their drinks and watched Dex pile kindling in the pit with the experience of a Cub Scout leader. As the early summertime campfire came to life, it cast a balmy glow over the five chairs and their occupants.

  “So Jessie, who’s the blond th
at was with you last night?” Adam started the campfire chatter by confirming what she thought when she first met him. Adam was with Dex at the bar and, of course, he had noticed Ger. Every guy that had a heart beat noticed Ger. Jessie smiled, thinking of her friend.

  “That’s Ger. I lived with her when I first came to the city.” She paused, wondering how much information she should divulge about her flamboyant friend. Adam’s expression urged her to continue. “She’s twenty-four, works for an advertising company, has size eight feet, is a natural blond and would love you, Adam.”

  He grinned wider than the Joker and slapped his thigh, hard enough to startle Samantha and Pete out of the private conversation they were having. “Dammit, I told you Dex, but no you thought it was a bad idea to buy her a drink.”

  Jessie noticed a look exchanged between Dex and his friend, but it was gone before she could identify it. She looked at Dex. “Why didn’t you let him buy her a drink? You guys could’ve joined us.”

  “There wasn’t time. The other guy that was with us had to work this morning and I needed to get home to let Duke out. If we sent drinks over to your table we probably would’ve been there all night.” Dex explained, his voice tight.

  Jessie accepted his answer, without asking for a further explanation, even though it didn’t explain why he was standing on the street an hour after he, Adam, and the nameless dude had left. Back to Adam “Next time,” she gave him an encouraging smile.

  Adam considered the subject closed and opened another. “What’s the tattoo on your wrist?”

  Another easy question. Keep them coming. Jessie glanced down at her favorite tattoo, the one she actually put some thought into before allowing it to be permanently etched onto her body.

  “It’s Elliot. Pete’s Dragon. I always thought when I was a kid, he would come rescue me, from my far from tough life. It’s just little and black and white, not completely tacky, just enough so people that really know the movie would recognize it.” Maybe I hadn’t completely thought it through. Self-doubt 1. “I loved Pete’s Dragon. Watching it was like remembering something that I’d forgotten.” Pete.