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23
We finished the wine and the German chocolate cake, and after awhile even Mrs. MacCruder ran out of things to say, so Ryan excused us and we toddled off back to the house. The entire time I kept glancing towards the hills, expecting to hear another one of those guttural, demon-cat howls in the dark.
“You’re completely safe, Kaitlyn,” Ryan said.
“Yeah, right,” I said, still nervously looking over my shoulder.
“You’re safer than you would be in New York City.”
“I doubt that. They don’t have giant, bloodthirsty cats prowling the streets.”
“No, just giant, crack-thirsty muggers.”
“I’ve never,
ever
been mugged, not once,” I countered.
“And I’ve never, ever been attacked by a cougar, not once.”
I looked back over my shoulder. “Yeah, but there’s always a first ti– ”
“OH MY GOD KAITLYN WATCH OUT!” Ryan shouted as he grabbed me.
I about peed my pants as I screamed and wheeled around, in instant fight-or-flight mode. I didn’t realize what was going on until Ryan staggered away from me, laughing so hard he was crying.
“You ASSHOLE!” I shouted at him, hitting him on the arm.
“Hahahahaha – I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but I
had
to do it – hahahahaha – ”
“YOU – BIG – JERK!” I half-yelled, half-laughed, and hit him with another flurry of blows. He took them all with the appropriate level of contrition.
“Sorry… it was just too good to pass up,” he chuckled as he put one arm over my shoulders and walked with me towards the house.
“You SUCK,” I yelled, but laughed and looped my arm around his waist.
I didn’t realize until we separated at the front door that we’d been touching each other.
I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about that… but I liked it. That much I knew.
24
Ryan brought out an acoustic guitar, and after a certain amount of cajoling, coaxed me onto the porch of the house. We sat in rocking chairs, drank more wine, and watched the stars – bright and innumerable in the dark skies over the plains – as he played songs and sang along. It was like a replay of the night before, but with stars, guitar, and the threat of being eaten by a cougar.
Although I gradually relaxed about the cougar.
The wine helped.
Appropriately enough, he sang “Starry, Starry Night” by Don McLean, the song about Vincent Van Gogh. And since one Don McLean song wasn’t enough, he sang “American Pie,” with me joining in with the chorus. There was “Time Of Your Life” by Greenday, “Redemption Song” by Bob Marley, “Blackbird” by the Beatles, and “Everlong” by the Foo Fighters.
“More,” I said, exactly like a three-year-old, when he finally put down the guitar.
He smiled at me. “In a minute. I just wanted to take a second to have some wine and enjoy the stars.”
“Well, I guess I can’t begrudge you that.”
We sat there in the cool air, looking out at the night sky, enjoying the silence and peace.
“You having an okay time?” he asked.
I looked over at him in surprise. “Yes, of course!”
“I mean overall. Not bored yet?”
“No! It’s so… peaceful. It’s wonderful.”
He nodded with a smile. “Now you know why I like coming here.”
We sat there in silence until he finished his glass of wine.
“A couple more?” he asked, picking up his guitar.
“Yes!”
That night, I went to sleep with guitar notes echoing softly in my ears, and the sound of Ryan’s voice, gentle and kind, soothing the hurt in my soul.
