Carolyn Mendoza Elliott

Clairee

What am I doing here? I have no business being at this party. Kelly insisted that I attend this Fourth of July celebration on the lake tonight with her and her husband, Shawn, while their oldest daughter, Victoria, stayed home with all of our children. “Torie hates the noise fireworks make,” she lied. “The kids can see the fireworks from your back porch better than ours. And you know that Debbie has been dying to have a sleepover with Ariel since school let out.” The last sentence was true; our thirteen-year-old daughters have been friends since I moved here eight years ago.

An involuntary chill ran up and down my spine as I thought about the events leading up to the move. My ex-husband had just finished his master’s degree in paleontology at the University of Montana and was hired as an associate professor at Indiana University. He had also just finished an affair with a co-worker at U of M. She had shown up at our home in the middle of the day while Greg was in class and told me about their affair. I was thirty-eight weeks pregnant at the time and went into labor. Thankfully, Andrew was born without significant complications, but Greg was unrepentant. He said the girl was blowing things out of proportion; he had never done anything with her other than work on a T. rex skull. And like an idiot, I believed him. The woman warned me, “I hate to say this, she wrote in an email before I blocked her, “but he is looking for a way out of your marriage. Once I found out he was married, I stopped the affair and refused to continue to see him, but he will only find someone else.”

And he did. 

After five children and fifteen years of marriage, he dumped me like garbage and moved in with another much younger woman. The kids and I didn’t see him for almost a year. 

Honestly, it was a relief to have him gone. I no longer had to walk on eggshells, continually fearing that something might set him off, but it was still heartbreaking and humiliating. I could no longer pretend everything was perfect, even though it had never been anything close to perfect. He was so cruel, even from the start of our relationship, but I was so desperate to be married at the ripe old age of twenty-four that I said yes when he asked. 

Kelly and Shawn are kind and fun; I just wish I didn’t feel like the third wheel. They drove me here, but I could walk home; it’s still light enough and only five miles. Decision made, I ducked behind another couple and headed away from the festivities by the lake towards the cars parked close to the road. I’d text them when I got home. 

        I kept glancing behind me, looking out for the watchful eyes of my sweet friends and cursing at the cute sandals I wore instead of my running shoes. It would take me over an hour to get home in these fashionable versus functional flip-flops. This evening has been just one giant mistake after another. 

Wham! 

What the hell?  I blinked and shook my head as strong hands gently grabbed my shoulders to steady me.

“Whoa, there,” a deep voice chuckled. “Sorry about that,” the man’s melodious mouth muttered unnecessarily. After all, I was the one who ran into him. 

Momentarily stunned, I stood in the handsome stranger’s hold, hypnotized as the most chiseled chin I had ever seen appeared inches away from my eyes. I could only imagine what the rest of him would look like. Thankfully, I didn’t have too long to wait. He ducked his head so our eyes met. Brilliant green eyes, surrounded by laugh lines and dark, soot-like eyelashes, looked into my shocked brown ones. “Are you ok, miss?”

No one has called me “miss” in a long time. I’m a forty-year-old divorced woman with five children. I felt my brow furrow as my lips turned downward, though I wasn’t entirely sure why I was suddenly irritated. I stepped back, shaking my shoulders free of his hands and affording myself a full-on view of this gorgeous guy. 

Ah, that must be why I was so exasperated—this man was just too damn good-looking. ‘Never trust a ten’ was one of my mottos. That was why I married a seven and a half the first time. My ex-husband was easy enough on the eyes to induce romantic notions and produce fine-looking children but not handsome enough to cause someone to steal him away from me—or so I thought. 

“Sor-Sorry. I’m fine. I wasn’t watching where I was going,” I muttered, blushing.

His crooked smile raised the right side of his scruffy cheek, and I turned to make sure Kelly was not watching this exchange. “Who are you trying to escape from?” He said conspiratorily, leaning in, so when I turned back toward him, I was once again staring straight into his glorious green eyes, alight with mischief.

“Is that obvious?”

He shook his head ‘yes’ as he straightened up, and I noticed that his hair was jet black on top with white strands generously sprinkled in on the side, like Mr. Fantastic.

“My friend and her husband,” I breathed with another quick glimpse behind me.

A stern look came upon his face. “Why?”

I chuckled at his concern. “They are trying to get me ‘out there and meeting people’ now that my divorce is finally final.” I rolled my eyes, then looked back at him, suddenly embarrassed. “Sorry you didn’t ask me for my life’s story.”

“Well, maybe I should’ve,” he snickered. And I let out a short laugh because his humor was contagious. He held out his right hand. “I’m Evan. What’s your name and life’s story?” 

I found myself shaking Evan’s hand and giggling like a schoolgirl. “I’m Clairee.”

“That sounds like a Southern name. Are you from here?” He hadn’t let go of my hand yet, and when I looked up at him, I noticed the sky turning orange and purple. This was going to be a beautiful sunset on the lake. Maybe I’d stay just a little longer.

“No, I’m originally from Louisana but came here to go to Grace College.”

“Ah, a fellow Lancer.”

“You went to Grace?”

“Only for a year. My parents died in a motorcycle accident the summer after I finished my first year.”

My breath hitched in sympathy, and I squeezed his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you. It was a long time ago. I was supposed to return to school, but I started working for my brother, and we ended up starting a CNC machine company.”

I dropped his hand and put mine on my hip. “I’ve always wondered what CNC stood for…?”

Evan chuckled and answered my non-question, “ Computer numerical control.”

I rolled my eyes. “Well, that clears everything up.”

Evan laughed, and I laughed without meaning to. “It just means that we use computers to control the precision of the instruments in lathes and mills to make custom-designed parts for our clients. It’s not nearly as glamorous as it sounds.”

No, but you are gorgeous, so you could talk about day-old dog doo, and I’d listen. “I don’t know; it sounds pretty glamorous… So, you’re from the area?”

“Born and raised here. My parents had a cottage on the south side of the lake. We came here every summer for the Fourth of July Fireworks on the Lake. I inherited the lake house when my parents passed, but I just started living there in January when my ex-wife got our house in Fort Wayne.”

“That’s kind of funny. I have to be out of my house by the end of this month because my ex-husband and his new wife got it in our divorce settlement.”

“So we are both in the same boat, so to speak,” Evan sighed and looked down for a second, then lifted his head and squared his broad shoulders, “Speaking of boats, would you like to take a walk by the water? I can show you my boat. I wasn’t going to take her out tonight since my daughter couldn’t come, so she’s all covered up.” He caught my confused look. “The boat is covered up, not my daughter. My daughter is with her mother and new husband.” I noticed the bitterness in his tone and felt my heart soften. I totally understood how he felt.

I found myself smiling my consent at this handsome stranger. He put his hands in his pockets and nodded sideways towards the water and the setting sun. “It is right over here, off the pier.” 

My spider senses should have fired warning signals: What are you thinking? Walking off with a total stranger? To see his ‘boat’? He could be a serial killer! Or a rapist. They would find your body in the drink tomorrow, face down and naked. Then Greg’s little slut will be the only mother your children will know, and she’s only a few years older than your daughter!

Evan turned towards me. “Before seeing my yacht, we should find your friends and tell them what’s happening. Maybe they could come with us? I don’t want to be arrested for kidnapping.”

Oh. My. Gosh! This guy was incredible. 

Too incredible. 

Maybe he was a serial killer.

I rolled my eyes and met his serious gaze. “Ok. Fine.” Glancing over to where I last saw my friends, I noticed they were walking toward us. “Great,” I mumbled. “They’re on their—”

“Evan? Evan Gerald? Is that you?” Shawn called out, unknowingly interrupting my sentence.

Evan nodded and laughed as he walked forward and extended his hand to shake Shawn’s hand. “Shawn Crost! And Kelly Beard!” He gave Kelly a quick hug. 

“It’s Kelly Crost now,” said Kelly as she flashed Evan her wedding ring.

“Going on twenty years,” Shawn said, squeezing his wife’s shoulders. “Where’ve you been, Evan?”

“Around,” Evan said evasively.

“I see you met Clairee,” Kelly said slyly.

Evan snickered, “Yeah, we, uh, ran into each other a few minutes ago and started talking. I was going to show Clairee my boat.” He sent me a look that made me catch my breath. 

Wow. Just wow.

“The old red row boat we used to fish from when we were kids?” Shawn laughed. “Does that thing still float?”

“Yes,” Evan said, a little humorously indignant. “Lucy is just as sea-worthy as ever. I just bought new oars. I was going to see if you two would like to join us on the water?”

“Oh, no! I want to stay dry!” Shawn laughed his musical laugh. “I’m due to sing the ‘Star-Spangled Banner’ soon on the boat ramp, anyway.”

Kelly bumped into me in a knowing fashion. “Why don’t you two go on without us? We’ll meet you later, by the car, Clairee.” Then she winked at me and walked away with Shawn in tow. “See you two later!”

Evan and I waved goodbye to our friends. “Shall we?” Evan indicated the lake with his left hand while holding out his right hand for me to take. 

To understand the significance of this gesture, you have to understand something: I have not held hands with anyone other than my children or ex-husband for over seventeen years. And my ex-husband was never one for hand-holding and other such public displays of affection. My hesitation lasted only a split second because when I looked into his eyes, I saw something there I had never seen before in any man. I wish I could say what it was precisely. Perhaps it was fate or love at first sight; it could’ve been a dare to defy my motto. Whatever it was, it sent a jolt of happiness through me, and when our hands touched, I almost heard an audible ‘click,’ like a door opening. I couldn’t help but return his grin with one of my own. 

This was the perfect night for the start of something good.