Say Something

Say Something

The cream-colored marble was icy against his back, even through the jacket and sweater. He scanned each face as they entered the waiting area. It wasn’t difficult. He’d hit a growth spurt his last year of middle school and now he was a head taller than most people. High school had immediately tried to recruit him for the basketball team and he at first had turned them down but his father reminded him it could earn him a scholarship.
Zeke Kirby’s blue eyes searched for her with each mass influx of people. He shifted his gaze to the over-sized clock high up on the wall. His train would be leaving in less than an hour. Where was she?
He checked his wrist-watch to make sure the time was accurate. Well-worn and familiar cowboy boots appeared in his field of vision. An old leather satchel landed at his feet. “Sorry. Finding a taxi was brutal.”
Slowly, he raised his blonde head to confirm what his heart already knew. He gave her a lopsided smile. “You’re not supposed to find taxis, they’re supposed to find you.”
She tossed her long dark braid back over her shoulder and rolled her sky-blue eyes. “Whatever.” She looked around at the crowds and deliberately stuffed her hands into the threadbare pockets of her denim jacket. Years ago, she had appropriated it from her father, complete with heavy metal and rock band logos embroidered on the fabric.
Zeke knew she was tempted to pull out her favorite Nikon camera and take pictures. “You have time.”
Rielle MacKensey snapped her head around. “What?”
“You want to take pictures.”
She grinned. “You know me too well.”
Zeke’s smile faltered and he looked away for a moment. He cleared his throat. “So where are you headed?”
Rielle rolled her eyes again. “Puff piece on the oldest amusement park in the U.S.” She sighed. “You?”
“Silver mine in Colorado, one hundredth anniversary.”
Rielle nodded. “Pays the bills at least.”
“Yeah.”
Rielle cocked her head to one side, making the long hand-beaded earring swing. “You okay?”
Zeke found himself staring at the colorful earring, remembering it had been a gift from her cousin one Christmas. He still wasn’t completely clear how she had Native American relations.
“Zeke?”
He gave a start and almost said it, almost let the words slide right out, despite a conversation they’d had over a year ago. “Yeah, fine. Just tired.”
Rielle gestured to the trains moving slowly. “Hence the train, no jet lag. See, I know you too well, too.”
Do you really? Zeke wondered, studying her. They’d grown up together in the same quaint New England town, played in the mud as toddlers and soccer in high school. They both preferred their nicknames to their full names, loved their work and the travel it entailed. And he loved her.
He watched her pull out her cell phone to check the time. She hadn’t worn a wrist-watch in years. “Your train should be pulling in.”
Zeke nodded and pushed off the wall. “Okay.” He picked up the handle of his suitcase. “Guess I’ll see you around.”
Rielle put her phone up and slipped her hands back in her pockets. “Always.”
Zeke moved slowly, counting each stride as it took him away from her. Suddenly, he stopped, took a deep breath. But nothing came out. Reluctantly, he kept walking.
“Say something.”
Her clear voice cut through his thoughts. Had he heard that? He turned around to see her rushing towards him. Her blue eyes were watery. “Just say something.”
Rielle stopped in front of him but didn’t look at him. Looked everywhere but at him. “I was wrong. I was scared. My parents have this wonderful chaos they call marriage and I was so scared I’d never have that wonderful chaos.”
Zeke let the suitcase handle clatter to the floor and gripped her shoulders. “Rielle?” he asked hoarsely.
Tears slid down her cheeks and finally her blue eyes met his. “I love you,” she whispered.
Zeke’s hands slid off her shoulders and he took a step back, nearly tripping over his suitcase. He watched her go white. “Zeke?” She searched his face. “Say something.”
He had dreamed of this happening so many times in the last year, it took him a minute to actually realize it was happening. “Rielle,” he started but his voice broke. “Rielle,” he said again. “I have loved you since you threw that mud pie in Nellie Oakstone’s face in kindergarten.”
Rielle’s mouth fell open and she slapped his arm. “And you let me go on and on with all the stupid reasons for not being together?” She slapped his other arm. “You idiot.”
Zeke grinned. “Yes, I am.” He reached out and pulled her close.
“That — that was twenty plus years ago,” said Rielle.
“Twenty-one.”
“And you…“ She pulled one hand free and punched his shoulder. “You idiot never said a word—“
“I didn’t want to force you into anything.”
Rielle tilted her head back to look at him. “How long have you known me? When have you ever forced me into anything? It was always the other way around.”
Zeke remembered the scar on his arm from breaking it in two places falling from a tree a seven-year-old Rielle had coerced him to climb. “You’re right,” he said and kissed her.
Suddenly, Rielle pulled back, looking pale again. “My mother.”
Zeke arched an eyebrow. “What?”
“She’ll be ecstatic, she’s been predicting this since you took me to the junior-senior prom. You think maybe we can elope?”
“And deprive our families of a wonderful wedding?”
“I’m serious.”
Zeke laughed. “It’ll be fine.”