My mom will hang up on you.”
“Guess it’s a good thing that I already have a dentist.” I laughed. “I thought maybe they were grading the women for you. Only the ones with
minimal amounts of plaque get your phone number.”
He was laughing so hard he didn’t even realize he had another fish on his line.
I set my pole down and retrieved the net. “Look at that!” I yelled. He had a huge fish on his hook. Poor thing was thrashing its body. Ryan had the
biggest smile on his face; he was in his happy place.
“That’s good eating right there!” He held the fish up.
“No, no… catch and release,” I reminded him.
We spent the entire afternoon fishing out on the lake. I learned some inside trade secrets of the movie industry and how he got hurt once doing
some of his own stunts. He told me about all the stunts that he had to do for the Seaside movie and how each move was carefully choreographed.
It was really interesting to learn about green screens and how they sometimes filmed inside a huge building but once the computer graphics and
sceneries were added it would appear that they were actually outside.
We lounged peacefully in the boat as we watched the hawks fly in the breeze. The setting sun changed the horizon to beautiful shades of orange
and red and the wind that blew across the water had a frosty chill.
Over the course of several hours we shared our stories, our thoughts, likes and dislikes, and hopes and dreams. We made each other laugh a
lot. It was all so surreal.
“That was a lot of fun,” Ryan said as he tied the boat to the dock. We walked up the path to the cabin and he took the fishing poles out of my
hand.
“Thank you,” he said softly. The smile on his face was genuine. He bumped his arm into mine, giving me a little nudge.
I was really happy that he enjoyed himself and that he caught more fish than I did. He didn’t seem egotistical but regardless he was still a man,
and all men have their pride.
I felt a sudden urge to hold his hand as we walked to the house; his arm was almost touching mine. This would have been a perfect moment for
that sentiment, but we didn’t have that kind of relationship.
I wondered if we ever would. I could picture him all too clearly being a part of my life and me being a part of his. But the part of his life that I was
imagining was this part, right now – a life of peace and togetherness – of normalcy. The kind of life that most people on the planet experienced.
In reality, Ryan’s life was anything but normal now and that was hard to imagine. His life was in constant turmoil, being hounded and chased. He
had no privacy. His existence had to be shrouded in secrecy to keep intimate details from becoming public. What a trade he had to make for doing
something he loved.
The entire time we were out on the lake I just wanted to ask him point blank why “acting” as a career choice was worth it to him – worth the trade.
Was there something in his ego that needed that brush of attention? Did he get a thrill out of pretending to be someone else, because that’s what
actors do – they get to live someone else’s life for a while. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t ask. They were questions that remained unanswered.
The biggest question in my mind was whether peace and insanity could survive together in harmony.
Chapter 7 - Revelations
“I’m freezing.” My teeth were chattering from being out on the lake. I turned the baseboard heaters on to warm up the cabin. “Ryan? Would you
go get a couple of logs from the side of the house please? I want to start a fire.”
I grabbed the big steamer pot from under the counter, filled it with water, and set it on the stove. My stomach was making noises and it was
getting close to dinnertime anyway.
Ryan carried in an armful of logs and I helped him stack them next to the fireplace.
“The starter log stuff is in that box.” I pointed to where he should look. I used some small branches to get the fire going.
“You’re a real Girl Scout,” he kidded and nudged me in the leg.
“Not really. I can’t start a fire without a lighter or a match. I’d be in big trouble if I had to survive in the woods.”
“I met that guy once,” he continued. “The survivor guy from TV. You know who I’m talking about?”
“Who? That guy who gets dropped off in the worst of places and then gets filmed while eating frogs and stuff?” I asked.
“Yeah. That guy.” He nodded. “I met him at a party once. He was one bizarre dude! He had some really wild stories.”
“You sort of look like the survivor man yourself!” I laughed lightly. “You have bits of wood stuck all over your shirt.” I picked some shards off of his
sleeves while he plucked a few that were stuck to his chest. “Let’s go outside and brush you off.”
We stepped out onto the wooden deck and I immediately ran my hands over his arms to knock the dirt off. Instead of helping me Ryan just stood
there, perfectly still, gazing at me while I dusted him.
I wondered for a moment if he was going to try to kiss me. We were so close; all I could think about was tasting him. He would only have to lean
in a few inches. I would succumb willingly…
My hands slowed in their movements as I tried to be precise with removing the wood shards. My eyes were fixed on tracing the texture and
contours of his shirt, since I couldn’t look him directly in the eyes.
I thought about what his full lips might feel like on mine, how the skin on his muscular chest might feel under my hands. For a moment I could
understand why those sick fans wanted to pull his shirt off. Now I thought about pulling his shirt off too and right after that, his shoes, his belt, his
jeans...
I had to banish those thoughts from my head. That line of thinking was way too dangerous.
“You should be able to get the rest,” I muttered, quickly turning on my heels to hurry back into the cabin. Don’t do this to yourself, Taryn. You
can’t have him.
I washed my hands thoroughly at the sink and unpacked some of the food from the cooler.
“What are you up to?” he asked when he joined me in the kitchen. I was rinsing the two enormous lobster tails I picked up at the seafood store
under the water.
Ryan peeked over my shoulder. “Mmm, lobster!” He grinned, smacking his lips together. “Need help?”
I noticed when he stood next to me, he was careful not to let our bodies touch. He kept a small, but safe distance between us. I wondered if he
did that on purpose.
Ryan sat down at the dinner table, in the same chair that my father always sat in. The memory of that made me smile. I imagined my father being
pleased with the man who now took his place at the table. Ryan and my father would have gotten along very well.
We had a lovely dinner together as the fire crackled behind us; the radio was playing soft music in the background. It was actually quite
romantic.
A tinge of nervousness crept into my gut from being alone with him in a secluded cabin in the middle of the woods. All alone… with him, my
mind repeated. Bottle of wine… fireplace… bedroom just down the hallway. I swallowed hard. Would he be expecting more? After all, I did bring
him here. I pretty much set the stage for a convenient tryst.
“That was delicious, Taryn.” Ryan stretched back in his chair, patting his stomach. “I’m stuffed!”
I was glad he enjoyed it, but now the flow of panic was surging in like the tide. What’s next? I had just started to smile at him when I felt queasy
again. He helped me clear the table and I began washing the dishes when the wave of nausea hit.
“I don’t feel so good.” I rubbed my stomach and dashed for the bathroom.
I was gone for so long that Ryan had washed all the dishes and was kicked back on the couch by the fire.