We made a left and another left, taking us down a dark country road. My eyes never left Rune. I thought about how truly beautiful he was. I let myself imagine how he would look in ten years’ time. He’d be broader, I was sure. I wondered if his hair would still be long. I wondered what he’d be doing with his life.
I prayed that it would be something to do with photography.
Photography brought the same soul-enhancing peace to him as my cello did to me. Since he’d returned, though, I hadn’t seen his camera once. He said it himself, he didn’t take photos anymore.
That made me sadder than anything.
Then, I did the one thing I had told myself long ago I would never allow—I imagined what we would look like in ten years’ time, together. Married, living in an apartment in Soho, New York. I would be cooking in our cramped kitchen. I’d be dancing to music playing from the radio in the background. And Rune would be sitting at the counter watching me, taking photos as he documented our lives. And he’d reach out from behind his lens to run his finger down my cheek. I’d swat his hand away playfully and I’d laugh. That would be when he’d click the button on the camera. That would be the shot I’d see later that night waiting for me on my pillow.
His perfectly captured moment in time.
His perfect second. Love in still life.
A tear fell from my eyes as I held onto that image. The image that could never be us. I allowed myself a moment of feeling the pain, before I hid it deep. Then I let myself feel happy that he would get the opportunity to fulfil his passion and become a photographer. I’d be watching on from my new home in heaven, smiling with him.
As Rune concentrated on the road, I let myself whisper, “I’ve missed you … I’ve missed you so, so much.”
Rune froze, every part of his body becoming still. Then he hit the turn signal and pulled over onto the edge of the road. I sat up, wondering what was happening. The engine purred beneath us, but Rune’s hands slipped from the wheel.
His eyes were downcast, hands lying on his lap. He momentarily gripped his jeans, then he turned his head to face me. His expression was haunted.
Torn.
But it softened when he fixed his gaze on me, and said in a rough whisper, “I’ve missed you too. So damn much, Poppymin.”
My heart lurched forward, taking my pulse along with it. They both raced, they both made my head dizzy as I drank in the honesty in his graveled voice. The beautiful look on his face.
Not knowing what else to say, I laid my hand on the center console. My palm was facing up, fingers open. After several silent seconds, Rune slowly placed his hand in mine and we linked our fingers tightly together. Shivers ghosted through my body at the feel of his large hand holding mine.
Yesterday confused us both, neither one knowing what to do, where to go, how to find our way back to us. This date was our start. These joined hands, a reminder. A reminder that we were Poppy and Rune. Somewhere under all the hurt and pain, under all the new layers we’d acquired, we were still here.
In love.
Two halves of one heart.
And I didn’t care what anyone said about it. My time was precious but, I realized, not as precious to me as Rune. Without breaking our hands, Rune put the car into drive and we pulled back out onto the road. After a moment, I could see where we were going.
The creek.
I smiled wide as we pulled into the old restaurant, its deck adorned with strings of blue lights, large heaters warming the outdoor tables. The car drew to a halt and I turned to Rune. “You brought me to the creek for our date? To Tony’s Shack?”
My mamaw would bring Rune and me here when we were kids. On a Sunday night. Just like tonight. She lived for their crawfish. She happily traveled all this way to get them.
Rune nodded. I tried to pull my hand away, and he frowned. “Rune,” I teased, “we have to get out of the car at some point. To do that, we have to break hands.”
Rune reluctantly let go, his eyebrows pulling down as he did. I grabbed my coat, and climbed out of the car. As soon as I shut the door, Rune was by my side. Reaching down, not seeking permission, he took hold of my hand again.
By his grip, I was convinced he’d never let go.
A gust of wind blew in from the water as we walked toward the entrance. Rune stopped. Silently, he took my coat from my hand and unclasped our linked fingers. Shaking the coat, he held it out for me to put on.
I went to protest, but a dark look passed over Rune’s face and I sighed. Turning around, I pushed my arms into my parka, turning back when Rune’s arm guided me before him. Focusing intently on the task, he zipped up my coat until the cold night air was held at bay.
I waited for Rune’s hands to drop from my collar, but instead, they lingered. His minty breath drifted over my cheeks. He glanced up momentarily, catching my eyes. My skin bumped at the flash of shyness those eyes held. Then, latching his gaze on mine, he inched closer and said softly, “Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?”
My toes curled in my boots at the thickness of his accent. Rune may have looked calm and aloof, but I knew him. When his accent was thicker, so were his nerves.
I shook my head. “No,” I whispered. Rune glanced away.
When he looked back, his hands had tightened on my collar, drawing me closer. Hovering his face an inch before mine, he said, “Well you do. Real damn beautiful.”
My heart leaped, it soared. In response, I could only smile. But that seemed enough for Rune. In fact, it seemed to floor him.
Leaning in just that little bit more, Rune’s lips brushed past my ear. “Stay warm, Poppymin. I couldn’t bear for you to get sicker.”
His act of putting on my coat suddenly made sense. He was protecting me. Keeping me safe.
“Okay,” I whispered back. “For you.” He inhaled a quick breath, his eyes closing just a fraction too long for it to be a blink.
He stepped back and took my hand in his. Without speaking, he led me into Tony’s Shack and requested a table for two. The hostess led us around back to the patio overlooking the creek. I hadn’t been here in years, but it hadn’t changed one bit. The water was quiet and still, a piece of heaven hidden away amongst the trees.
The hostess stopped at a table at the back of the busy patio. I smiled, about to take my seat, when Rune said, “No.” My eyes flew to Rune, as did the hostess’s. He pointed to the furthest table on the deck, one right on the edge of the water. “That one,” he demanded, curtly.
The young hostess nodded. “Certainly,” she replied, slightly flustered. She led us across the patio to the table.
Rune took the lead, his hand still clutching mine. As we threaded our way through the tables, I noticed girls staring at him. Rather than be upset by their attention, I followed their gazes, trying to see him with fresh eyes. I found that difficult. He was so ingrained in my every memory, so carved into the fabric of who I was, that it made it almost impossible. But I tried and tried, until I saw what they must have seen.
Mysterious and brooding.
My very own bad boy.
The hostess left the menus on the wooden table and turned to Rune. “Is this okay, sir?” Rune nodded, a scowl still etched on his face.
Flushing, the hostess told us our server would be here soon and hurriedly left us alone. I glanced at Rune, but his eyes were looking over the creek. I broke my hand away from his, so I could take my seat, and as soon as I did, his head snapped around and his brow furrowed.