Undeniable

So I toss and turn and try to drown out the sound of Jackson’s voice in my head, the memory of his seductive whisper in my ear.

“Give in to me.”

Well I won’t, even if my body is aching and pulsing with need for him, even if by the time I get out of bed in the early hours of the morning I’m almost crazy with unfulfilled desire.

This cannot continue, I think angrily, as I throw on my clothes. On one hand, I could always let Jackson have his way and give my body what it’s obviously craving. But to what end? I can’t fool myself into thinking that there’s any universe in which I could get Jackson Lockewood out of my system just by sleeping with him. On the other hand, I could always leave. The shoot is practically over, and I’ve taken all my pictures. The fact that the initial arrangement was to stay in Foster for a week doesn’t mean I can’t leave a few hours earlier.

After I’ve pulled on jeans and a light cotton top, I put my hair in a ponytail and make my way downstairs. I’m not a jogger, so I’m not usually out at the first light of dawn. Today, I can see what I’ve been missing, the patterns in the sky as the first light comes from the east, the stillness in the air, as if everything, the trees, the flowers, and even the grass are waiting for the day to begin. I should have brought my camera I think, as I start to walk down the long drive, then out to the road, but then, my mission this morning has nothing to do with work and taking pictures.

I walk for what seems like a long time, passing only two solitary joggers on the road. When I get to cemetery, I can’t help the feeling of guilt when I think of how long it’s been since I was last here. My parents graves are well kept but with none of the personal touches of the graves with fresh flowers and relatives who obviously care enough to visit often.

My eyes scan through the familiar words engraved in the stone, to the phrase at the bottom ‘to live in the hearts of those you love is not to die.’ The last time I was here, I dismissed those words, but now I know they’re true. I will always see echoes of my mother in the mirror, and when I make an effort to be funny, my humor will always be very much like my dad’s. As long as I’m alive, they will always be too.

Over the years, I’ve sometimes wondered if things would have turned out differently if they hadn’t died. Maybe having a mother to talk to would have made me less likely to surrender everything to Jackson. Maybe if I had been living in my own house instead of with Jackson at Halcyon it wouldn’t have been so convenient for us to give in to whatever it was that drew us together.

Of course, there’s no point in wondering, I realize. It’s impossible to change the past. The only thing that matters is never to repeat the same mistakes in the present.

Armed with that thought, I say goodbye to my parents, determined that whatever happened, I wouldn’t give Jackson the satisfaction of surrendering myself to him again.

It’s already full light when I get back to the house, with the sun high in a beautiful blue sky. There’s no one around, so I spend the day reshooting some of the scenes I wasn’t totally satisfied with before as well as taking the pictures I know I’ll keep for myself. To remind me of the house I loved, where I fell in love.

Even though I move around the house, I don’t run into anyone while I work, and I have no idea where Nick is, nor Elaine. By lunchtime, I find Mrs. Shannon in the kitchen.

“I think everyone’s feeling sober that you’re all leaving tomorrow.” She tells me, fixing me a plate on the kitchen table. “Will you be coming back?”

I smile sadly, “I don’t think so.”

She sighs. “Jackson mentioned that everyone is joining him on the boat after lunch. He said to ask you if you would like to join them.”

“I’d rather not.”

She smiles. “He said you’d say that?”

I bristle. “What exactly did he say?”

She shakes her head. “Just that you wouldn’t want to come. It’s always been either sweet or stormy between you two. I suppose right now it's stormy.”

“Right now it’s nothing,” I say with a frown. I don’t want to leave Jackson thinking that I’m afraid of him. I know that he’ll assume correctly that I’m avoiding him, and he’ll know it’s because I’m not as indifferent to him as I claim to be. If everyone is going to be on the boat, then what’s the harm? He wouldn’t try to seduce me in front of his aunt and his sister.

“I think I’ll join them,” I say, “It's a lovely day to sail anyway.”

After I’ve eaten, I change into shorts and a striped tee shirt, and leave the house through the back, walking through the gardens to the path that leads up to the water front. I’m a little late, so I have a slight hope that they would have gone ahead without me, but that hope is dashed when I see the boat, white and gleaming in the sun, at the end of the wooden d

ock.

I can’t see anybody around. For a second I wonder if I got the message wrong, maybe they decided not to go out after all.

Curiosity makes me climb the stone steps to the dock. I’ve been on boats before, but I want to see what Jackson’s is like. I walk to the end and step unto the boat. As beautiful as it is from afar, it’s much more beautiful up close. The deck is spotless and shiny, with cushioned seats and even a coffee table. A door leads to the interior of the boat, where I assume there’ll be more luxurious furniture and a well-equipped stateroom. I take a moment to admire the perfection. Everything gleaming with polish and thorough maintenance, but strangely, there's no one on it.

I’m about to turn around when I hear footsteps, I pause, immediately regretting my decision to get on the boat as Jackson opens the door and steps onto the deck.

Will I ever get over how good he looks? He’s wearing a white polo shirt and tan shorts, exposing strong muscled legs and his perfectly built, athletic body. He looks every inch the model image of a glamorous sailor, only a little more real, more flesh and blood and manly than any model could ever hope to accomplish.

I swallow and take a cautious step back. “Where’s everybody else?” I ask warily.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Not here.” He says. I watch him with a frown as he loosens the rope tying the boat to the dock, leaving the boat to drift.

“Wait….What…. Aren’t we going to wait for them?" I falter. “I thought we were going sailing.”