with anything. He drifted from one nothing job to the next, if he worked at all. He was a few years ahead of Gina in school, so they didn’t have much of an interest in each other back then. But all of a sudden, ‘bout seven, eight years ago, something clicked between them. They started to look pretty darn serious about each other.”
Wally then looked back out at the two of them, and his eyes narrowed. They were talking to another couple , who looked to be about their age, laughing now and sipping on drinks.
“Nope . . . he never was much. Don’t know how he ever afforded to keep gas in that old truck he had. But that didn’t stand in his way. Once he started seeing Gina, he got this highfalutin idea about pilotin’ airplanes. And I damn well know she helped pay for his lessons . . . probably paid for them completely. Anyhow, he somehow did manage to get his pilot’s license. And not long after that he left Mountain Step, in a hurry.”
“Where did he go?”
“Afghanistan. He’s has been flyin’ planes for some big contractor over there ever since.”
For the next twenty minutes , Wally and I talked about other things. I tried my damndest to be attentive but it wasn’t easy. I kept stealing glances at Gina and Barnwell. I watched them as much as I could, without being rude to Wally. Each time he told me something about one of the other people at the party, he’d turn toward them and nod as he spoke. I turned my head toward them as well, but each time my eyes kept flicking to wherever Gina happened to be standing at the moment. Not once did she look back in my direction. And before long, I was fuming. Then things got worse. Gina and Barnwell sat down together—in a love seat—near the back of the cabin. That was it. I’d had enough.
I waited for Wally to finis h whatever it was he was saying; rose to my feet; then told him, “I’m sorry, Wally, but I’m going to take off now. My first days up here have been pretty busy. I’m kind of tired.”
A surprised look on his face, he glanced at his watch and just said, “Oh!” Then stood up and extended his hand. “Well, I’ll see ya tomorrow at nine then.”
Bobbing my head, trying to act excited about seeing the cabin as we shook on it, I said, “You bet. I’m looking forward to it.”
But Wally Elkin didn’t release my hand right away. His eyes delved deeper into mine. And a second or two passed before he said, “Don’t worry about anything, Chris. I think things just might work out.” He wasn’t talking about our cabin deal.
Before leaving, I walked over to Connie and thanked her for inviting me. She also seemed surprised and disappointed that I was leaving so early. I gave her the same “tired” excuse I’d given Wally, but she too knew something was up. I felt like a heel as I headed for the door, but my guilt quickly evaporated when I saw Gina and Rusty Barnwell talking to Buster La Porte. They were all standing about ten feet to the right of the screen door.
I caught a glimpse of her —all smiles just like the two men, and then as I was about to snap my head toward the doorway, her sleek eyes caught mine. She noticed me when I was just a few steps from the door. All the gaiety in her eyes and on her face instantly melted away. And in the time it takes to snap your fingers, the corners of her mouth dropped as if she had injected herself with a strong dose of remorse—as if she’d had mainlined the nasty stuff.
But I wasn’t interested in remorse. I kept walking, allowing my look to linger just long enough to become a disgusted stare. As I was about to turn my eyes from hers, she mimed something. She mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.”
But that didn’t mean a damn thing to me. I only shook my head “no,” looked away, and then stepped out into the dark, cool, New Hampshire night.
Gina Elkin had yanked away whatever small hope she’d given me. In just a matter of minutes , my perception of her had been blown all to hell And
Wally then looked back out at the two of them, and his eyes narrowed. They were talking to another couple , who looked to be about their age, laughing now and sipping on drinks.
“Nope . . . he never was much. Don’t know how he ever afforded to keep gas in that old truck he had. But that didn’t stand in his way. Once he started seeing Gina, he got this highfalutin idea about pilotin’ airplanes. And I damn well know she helped pay for his lessons . . . probably paid for them completely. Anyhow, he somehow did manage to get his pilot’s license. And not long after that he left Mountain Step, in a hurry.”
“Where did he go?”
“Afghanistan. He’s has been flyin’ planes for some big contractor over there ever since.”
For the next twenty minutes , Wally and I talked about other things. I tried my damndest to be attentive but it wasn’t easy. I kept stealing glances at Gina and Barnwell. I watched them as much as I could, without being rude to Wally. Each time he told me something about one of the other people at the party, he’d turn toward them and nod as he spoke. I turned my head toward them as well, but each time my eyes kept flicking to wherever Gina happened to be standing at the moment. Not once did she look back in my direction. And before long, I was fuming. Then things got worse. Gina and Barnwell sat down together—in a love seat—near the back of the cabin. That was it. I’d had enough.
I waited for Wally to finis h whatever it was he was saying; rose to my feet; then told him, “I’m sorry, Wally, but I’m going to take off now. My first days up here have been pretty busy. I’m kind of tired.”
A surprised look on his face, he glanced at his watch and just said, “Oh!” Then stood up and extended his hand. “Well, I’ll see ya tomorrow at nine then.”
Bobbing my head, trying to act excited about seeing the cabin as we shook on it, I said, “You bet. I’m looking forward to it.”
But Wally Elkin didn’t release my hand right away. His eyes delved deeper into mine. And a second or two passed before he said, “Don’t worry about anything, Chris. I think things just might work out.” He wasn’t talking about our cabin deal.
Before leaving, I walked over to Connie and thanked her for inviting me. She also seemed surprised and disappointed that I was leaving so early. I gave her the same “tired” excuse I’d given Wally, but she too knew something was up. I felt like a heel as I headed for the door, but my guilt quickly evaporated when I saw Gina and Rusty Barnwell talking to Buster La Porte. They were all standing about ten feet to the right of the screen door.
I caught a glimpse of her —all smiles just like the two men, and then as I was about to snap my head toward the doorway, her sleek eyes caught mine. She noticed me when I was just a few steps from the door. All the gaiety in her eyes and on her face instantly melted away. And in the time it takes to snap your fingers, the corners of her mouth dropped as if she had injected herself with a strong dose of remorse—as if she’d had mainlined the nasty stuff.
But I wasn’t interested in remorse. I kept walking, allowing my look to linger just long enough to become a disgusted stare. As I was about to turn my eyes from hers, she mimed something. She mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.”
But that didn’t mean a damn thing to me. I only shook my head “no,” looked away, and then stepped out into the dark, cool, New Hampshire night.
Gina Elkin had yanked away whatever small hope she’d given me. In just a matter of minutes , my perception of her had been blown all to hell And
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