19
Reasonably sure that I knew what part of the woodland my dad’s patrol would be coming through around this time, and also reasonably sure that Paul would be with the patrol, about to leave to come meet me at the house for our five-thirty “date,” I charged up a path through the eastern edge of the woodland. However, suddenly wondering if I should just meet Paul at the house, I suddenly slowed my pace, then stopped running altogether. Since my phone was now on the side of the highway, I couldn’t check the time, but I knew it had to be about five-fifteen, give or take a few minutes on either side. Although my ordeal with Jake in his car had felt so long as to be torturous, we actually hadn’t been away from the farm for very long.
Debating my options, I just stood in the quiet of the forest for a little while, eventually deciding that I could probably meet up with Paul quicker, probably bumping right into him, if I just kept on running, instead of backtracking to meet him at the house. Besides, I wanted to talk to my dad immediately, too, anyway.
I’d just lifted one of my feet to begin running again when a sudden noise made me freeze with my foot in mid-air. As keyed up as I was, with my heart racing and my mind jumbled, it took me a second to recognize the noise, but then I got it. It was quacking, coming from somewhere not too far away. Realizing that one of Jen’s ducks must have wandered away from the pond, I sighed, feeling duty-bound to catch it and try to turn it around and make it head for home. If it didn’t want to waddle back up the path, I figured I’d just tuck it under my arm and take it with me to find my dad and Paul.
Cupping my hands around my mouth, I did a particular duck call that I’d heard Jen do sometimes. “Quack, quack! Quack, quack! Do any white-feathered little angels want some organic croutons?”
Although this obviously wasn’t even close to any kind of a traditional duck call like a hunter might use, it seemed to work for Jen, at least most of the time. And, after I’d repeated the call twice, a plump little duck with yellowish spots on his bill came waddling through a gap in some nearby shrubbery.
Johnathan was an “exploratory little fellow,” as Jen sometimes said, and he often wandered into the woodland. However, he usually didn’t wander quite so far back, and when I picked him up, I told him he was a naughty little thing.
“I will still give you your croutons, though…but just when we get back to the house. Right now, we’ve got to find my dad and Paul.”
Actually nuzzling my shoulder with the top of his head, as if he were a cat or something, Johnathan seemed agreeable to make the trip; so, with him tucked under one of my arms somewhat like a football, I once again began jogging up the path.
I’d been jogging for maybe five minutes, wondering if I’d made a mistake in judging where my dad’s patrol would be, and also wondering if I just should have remained at the house to meet Paul, when suddenly, I almost ran right into Paul, who’d been running through the forest parallel to the trail. Simultaneously, we both came to a stop, with Paul asking where I was going.
A little out of breath from my jogging, I drew in a few lungfuls of air before replying to him. “Listen. Listen, I have to tell you about the spy. I know who it is, or at least, I think I have a pretty good idea, and I’ll explain why. But, even before that, I have to tell you something else that’s important, too. I have to tell you that I’ve made a decision about who I want to start a real relationship with, and I want you to know that I decided this even before I found out who the spy is. I actually decided when I was in the bathroom with Jen last night, watching her write on the bathtub wall with soap, but…all that isn’t even important right now. All you need to know is that I made my decision last night, long before I found out who the spy is.”
For a long moment, Paul just looked at me with what struck me as a curiously neutral expression, given the circumstances. “And what’s your decision?”
Drawing in a few more lungfuls of air while Johnathan quacked quietly under my arm, I hesitated for a long moment or two, suddenly beginning to feel overcome with emotion. “I choose you, Paul. I want to start a real relationship with you. All of a sudden last night, it just hit me, and I just got it. You and I have a once-in-a-lifetime connection.” Realizing that that was kind of a bold, certain-sounding statement for a person who was pretty inexperienced with dating to make, and also realizing that Paul might not exactly feel the same way, I suddenly felt embarrassed and tried to backtrack. “Or...well, I meant to say that we have a very special connection. That’s what I meant. I didn’t really mean to say, ‘once-in-a-lifetime connection’ so soon in our relationship.”
With his gorgeous gray eyes twinkling in sun that was filtering into the forest through the treetops, Paul gently took Johnathan from me, set him on the forest floor, and then took my face in his hands. “Well, I’m sorry to hear you backtrack on that ‘once-in-a-lifetime connection’ statement, because I actually think it’s true. I actually do think we have a ‘once-in-a-lifetime connection.’”
With my heart filling with joy, I allowed myself a little smile. “You do?”
Still cradling my face, Paul smiled in return. “I do. I’ve actually been thinking this for a couple of weeks…but I’ve just been trying to be patient, just waiting for you to realize it, too.”
After just looking into each other’s eyes for a few moments, both of us grinning, Paul brought his mouth to mine and began kissing me, pulling me close while he did so, with his hands at the small of my back. And suddenly, I was in heaven, with all thoughts of Jake, and the earlier events that had happened with him, floating right out of my head.
At first, Paul kissed me gently, with his lips firm but not demanding. However, when I began slowly running my hands across his chest and shoulders, his mouth became a little hungrier, and more insistent; and it wasn’t long before our kissing became more passionate than it had ever become before.
A short while later, while tangling my fingers in Paul’s thick dark hair, I began to feel emotions and physical sensations that I’d never felt before, and I suddenly got the idea that I wanted to take Paul’s black t-shirt shirt off so that I could run my hands over his bare muscular chest. I also wanted to feat on it with my eyes a little, too, having never even seen a guy I was attracted to with his shirt off.
So, after eventually deciding that my idea was a good one, and that Paul probably wouldn’t mind if I took his shirt off, I broke our kiss, and then immediately began peeling his shirt upward. However, I didn’t get it peeled very far, at least not up to his shoulders, before he stopped me, yanking his shirt back down.
“Don’t, Chrissy. Don’t do that.”
I didn’t even need to ask him why he didn’t want me to take his shirt off, because I was pretty sure I already knew. I was pretty sure that the reason had to do something with a large tattoo I’d seen, just for the briefest of split-seconds, on one side of his chest. Done in black ink, the tattoo was of a letter. A W, to be exact. And coming from both sides of the W were wings, making this tattoo identical to tattoos worn by many Warrens. Many of them liked to see themselves as some sort of dark angels.
Suddenly feeling cold all over, when just a short while earlier, I’d felt hot, I looked up into Paul’s eyes and spoke in a voice that held a hint of a tremor. “Was that a W tattoo on your chest? With wings?”
Part of me just couldn’t believe that I’d seen it correctly.
Turning away from me, frowning hard, Paul raked a hand through his hair, not seeming like he was going to answer me.
So, with my voice beginning to waver even a bit more, I tried again. “Paul, are you a Warren?”
No answer. He just frowned down at the forest floor.
“Paul, are you the spy?”
Not even needing an answer anymore, I began crying, burying my face in my hands.