When We Fall by C M Lally

Author:C M Lally [Lally, C M]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CM Lally
Published: 2017-11-16T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 14 – Frank

Shit. I was hoping it would be a little while longer before my shameful, dirty secrets started to erupt from my dark closet.

She’s speechless. Her eyes lower to stare at her feet. I can almost hear her mind churning, putting two and two together to equal the death of my fiancé admission from yesterday. And now she’ll know I did it was with a car. God knows she’s an intelligent woman. Does she not Google who she spends her time with intimately? I’ve certainly spent some time Googling her.

“Okay,” she replies, her voice somewhat steady and clear as she shrugs her shoulders. “I’ll drive. I just need you to navigate.” My shoulders drop and the stress of the moment rolls off them. I’m sure my day of reckoning will come with her, but Isabella is a different breed of woman, and I’ll take the reprieve for the moment.

I hold my hand out for her to take, and she walks to me, taking a hold of it, twining her fingers into mine. We walk as one to her car, chatting about the hiking trails in particular and if she dressed appropriately for these trails.

She’s a great driver and listener. She took my directions perfectly, never faltering or getting lost inside the preserve. We find the nature trails with ease and set off.

She likes to stop and take pictures of the views, or something in nature that specifically catches her eye. I love to see the wonder in her eyes as she takes in all of her surroundings. She even spotted a tree frog hopping to get away from a predator and snapped a few pictures of it in motion, squealing in delight when they turned out perfectly.

“It’s so beautiful here,” she observes, twirling in circles and pointing to the view as we crest a small hill to reach an overlook at the quarter-mile trail point. We are alone now, but there are other hikers coming up behind us soon. She takes a seat at one of the few picnic tables offered by the preserve and drinks deeply from the water I hand her.

Her face is flushed from the morning sun, and the sun glints off the blond highlights in her hair, drawing me in deeper to her. She’s an enigma; taking me in at face value, letting my past be my past and ignoring it for now. I’m sure it will become an issue, but until then, we are living in our moments and enjoying each other.

“Tell me about your childhood?” I ask her. “Were you born here in America? You don’t seem to have an accent.

“Yes, I was born here. My childhood was spent traveling back and forth from California to Brazil. Most of my family still lives there in the small village of Trancoso. It’s buried between the jungle and the ocean in the Bahia Province on the eastern side of the country. Life is very simple there. It’s a time warp, and most definitely not into technology and worldly advancement, but my dad was.

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