Kate blinked sleep from her eyes and tried to guess what time it was. The light peeking underneath the entrance of her tent was the faintest blue- the faint, misty color before sunrise. She closed her eyes and remembered what an ocean sunrise was like. Cool breeze whipping your hair, mellow silence, and cold, stiff sand covering your ankles.
"One day, Katie, we'll live on the beach. I'll build a house-"
"You? Build a house?" her incredulous laughter sinking his vision.
"I'll build us a house out of sticks or straw or whatever the hell you want," he said, shaking off her disbelief. Katie laughed again, more softly this time. She picked up his hand and put it over her heart and held it there. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he brought his other arm around her. She sighed contentedly.
"Alright. You'll build the house," she conceded, a note of teasing still in her voice.
"You bet I will, Katie. And every morning, we'll watch the sunrise."
"Do we get to sleep in on Saturdays?" she asked, tilting her head towards him.
"You can't actually say you'd want to? I mean, a Saturday ocean sunrise is the best kind!" her laughter shook the old tree they were leaning against. Their spot.
"You don't believe me? Well, that's okay. Because you will after you've seen one," he assured her, running his fingers through her long curly hair.
"If you insist, Tom," she relented, rolling her eyes.
Sawyer had not slept all night. A man without a face and without a voice plagued his dreams. He was underneath his bed, his mama told him to stay there until she told him. His daddy was drunk... came into his room... his mama's voice pleaded in his head. He felt the fear, dulled over time, fresh again in his chest. A gunshot. Footsteps. Then... another gunshot. He stayed put...
"Mama?" he pleaded quietly. His voice was thick through the tears.
"Mama!" The sobs over took his body. His father had just killed his mother. And then he'd killed himself. He huddled up into the corner underneath his bed. His mama had told him to stay put, no matter what. How long he laid there, he didn't know. Sobbing in the agony of the loss of innocence, the loss of his mother and father, and in hate over the man he knew did this to them, he hugged himself tightly.
He heard fists pounding on the front door. He coiled in fear- was someone here to hurt him like his parents were hurt? He heard the door give way and a voice called out.
"Is anyone here? This is the police. We're here to help." The young boy's cries could not be contained. The officers moved towards the open bedroom door and paused as they entered in upon the scene. His whimpering caught Officer Steve Halson's ear- carefully he lowered his weapon and peered underneath the bedskirt.
"Son, you're safe. We're gonna get you outta here, ya hear? Just come with me."
"My mama," he sobbed, "she- she told me to stay here. Not to come out."
"Your mama-" the words were caught in Halson's throat. He didn't know how to tell the boy what he must know already; that his mama had been murdered, that his father had done it, that his father had killed both of his parents.
"Your mama would want you to come with me. She would want you to be safe. You're alright now, son."
"No, I'm not!" the boy shouted.
"What's your name, son?"
"Jame- James Ford. I'm eight."
"Come with me, James, please," he asked quietly. Halson's own heart felt the grim reality that must now be this child's life. His heart was guarded against feeling such emotions, against the grisly bodies he encountered on a regular basis. But this time, he had to fight to keep the walls up. The boy slowly inched towards him.
"Alright, James. Close your eyes, I'll carry you out."
"I can walk," he said defiantly.
"It's standard police procedure. I have to," he lied.
"Fine," he said, wiping his eyes with his pajama sleeve. He couldn't imagine seeing his family in this state- he shielded the boy, clutching him to his body and burying his face into his uniform.
"You're alright now, son."
"Liar," Sawyer mumbled, jarring from his sleep abruptly. Groaning, he let his head fall back onto his makeshift pillow. Damn, he was tired. He hated those nights when he couldn't sleep, when all the people who had hurt him passed in and out of his dreams to do the damage all over again. The only thing worse was when the people that he'd hurt stopped by for a visit. Oh, last night was hell.
No sense trying to sleep anymore. He could tell that it was almost morning, that soon the camp would be in a bustle and he wouldn't have a chance. Besides... that dream... ah, nothin'. He pulled on his jeans and buckled his belt. He didn't bother putting on a shirt- no one else would be up yet, and even if they were, well, he wasn't exactly bad to look at. Running a coarse hand through his hair, he pulled back the entrance to his tent and stepped out into the cool, pleasant morning. He scanned the beach- the sun was peeking over the top of the horizon; a soft pink, a blazing hot orange. The contrast was so moving against the dark, gray sky above. The water sparkled. He looked to his left, and 20 yards off saw a crouched figure in the sand. He'd recognize that wad of messy brown hair anywhere. What was Kate doin' up so early, sittin' way out there? His curiosity was aroused- he slowly strolled down the beach. When he was about 10 feet away, he announced his presence.
"Mornin', Freckles," he said. His classic smirk was twisted at the bottom corner of his mouth- his eyes laughed at her with silent interest. She was startled. She shoved her left fist in the sand and swung her face around to meet his gaze.
"Morning, Sawyer," she said briskly, putting on a tight smile. "What are you doing up this early?"
"I thought I'd lift a few weights," he said in his classic sardonic style. "What are you doing up?"
"I wanted to watch the sunrise," she answered honestly.
"Well, seeing as the gym seems to be closed today, would ya mind if I joined you?" he asked, standing a few feet back, looking straight into her eyes..
"Not at all," she replied, her expression evidencing the contrary.
He closed the gap between them and sat down next to her. She crossed her legs and brushed the sand off the legs of her pants. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Sawyer tried to keep his eyes focused on the ocean and the sun slowly peeking up over the distant waves, but couldn't help but glance frequently at the woman next to him. Her expression was difficult to read. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her mouth drawn down into a deep and decided frown- she looked sad and regretful, angry and guilty at the same time. He noticed she was fiddling with something in her hand. He saw a tiny bit of faded white peeking out from her fist.
"Whatcha got there, Freckles?" She ceased turning it over in her palm. She looked at him accusingly.
"What do you mean?"
"That thing in your hand. What is it?" his tone was gentle, non-threatening. Nonetheless, she felt threatened.
"Is it any of your business?" she demanded cooly, tossing her hair and shooting daggers with her eyes.
"No, I don't suppose it is. I just figured you had something weighing on your mind, that's all," he said. He pushed himself up off the ground and stood, hovering like a tan, golden pillar of strength and vulnerability before her. "I'll leave you to it then, Freckles."
He had only taken a few steps back towards camp when her soft, needy voice called out to him. "Sawyer, wait. Please." He stopped and slowly pivoted himself to look back at her.
"Stay with me. The sun's almost up." Her eyes were tender and helpless. She reached her hand out and placed it on the sand where he had been sitting seconds before.
"Alright," he conceded, making his way back to her. He took a seat closer to her this time, his knees brushing hers by hfractions of an inch. She blinked. Slowly, she brought the small, white object forth and fiddled with it. It was a tiny metal airplane, faded and old- possibly a child's toy.
"Is that supposed to be ironic?" he asked, giving her a humorless, but in his own way, reassuring smile.
"It was Tom's," she answered with a wry expression.
"Oh, really? And, uh, who was Tom?"
"My best friend growing up. My first boyfriend. My first love." He could hear the confusion and loss in her voice.
"Is he the guy you married?"
"No- I... I got him killed." She cradled her forehead in her palm, obviously distraught.
"H- you killed him?"
"It was an accident... he was trying to help me...."
"Well, killin' ain't an accident, Freckles! It means intent. If you didn't wanna kill him, I don't reckon you did," he said, wrapping a firm hand around her forearm.
"It was my fault, though. I shouldn't involved him- shouldn't have come to him. I was on the run, he helped me see my mom. The cops found me- I stole a car, he came with me. The car, it wrecked. And he-" she sighed, "he died." Her voice was watery, but no tears fell. Sawyer guessed she had long cried her fair share of tears in this life.
"The worst thing is-" her voice broke. He made no attempt to interrupt her.
"The worst thing is, is that as soon as it happened, I got out of the car and ran. I kept running."
"You didn't have a choice, Freckles," he said, voice lined with soft tones and hard edges.
"I always had a choice, Sawyer." She met his eyes and then dropped her gaze. Her eyes drifted back to the sunrise. More silence brought their wakes together.
"Why are you telling me this?" It was her favorite question- but she had no answer for several moments.
"Because you asked."
"Right," he said. He slid his hand down her wrist into her palm. She made no move to remove it; instead, she gingerly entwined her worn, slender fingers into his own.
"Tom promised that we'd live on the beach and he'd build a house for me," she laughed and rested their hands in the sand. "Well, here I am." He detected a note of bitterness and sardonic appreciation for the situation.
"Tom... what did he do?"
"He was a doctor. He worked at a hospital," she said.
"So you like doctors, huh?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. She knew that he was thinking of Jack.
"No. I loved a doctor. Big difference," she corrected, her wily grin returning.
"So is that why you are up so early? Bad memories catching up with you?" Please tell me I'm not the only one...
"Sort of. It's just that... it's Saturday." Sawyer let out an easy laugh.
"Freckles, most people like to sleep in on Saturday."
"I know! That's what I told Tom, but look," she said, pointing at the finally risen sun. It hung halfway between the expanse of the sky and the bottom of the ocean. Soft fire caressed the clouds, and light dispersed the evening chill.
"It's beautiful, Freckles, but it's there everyday."
"Tom always said that a Saturday ocean sunrise was the best kind. He lived in Florida until he was 7, and his dad took him and his sister to the beach every Saturday morning; after he moved, he missed seeing the sunrise. He said it was one of the most precious miracles to grace the planet earth. I never believed him till we got here," she mused. She got to her feet; for several moments she looked down at him, the early light framing her face in a false halo. Her hand dangled down by her side, still linked in his.
"So... bananas or mangoes for breakfast? Or... we could be crazy," she said with a playful smile, "and have both." Sawyer grinned and shook his head, and braced himself against her to rise.
"I was even thinking about a coconut, Freckles," he jibed, drawing her towards him.
"Ooh, well aren't we feeling adventurous today," she laughed into his chest. He wrapped his free arm around her waist. She sighed and settled into his embrace.
"What would you do if I kissed you right now?" Sawyer drew his head back in perplexity.
"Me?"
"Mhmm." She propped her chin on his breastbone and gazed up at him.
"Why, I guess I'd just have to kiss you back."
"Okay, then."
She hesitated, then drew her face closer to his. His hair draped around his temples, reflecting in the sunlight. She brushed it back with her fingertips and placed the palm of her hand lightly on the base of his neck. Her eyelids fluttered and closed as she met his lips. He responded hungrily. Passion, hot and suppressed, fused between them. Kate felt her skin burn with fever- like she had been in the sun for hours on end. They broke apart. He opened his eyes. She stood there, eyes closed, lips flushed and parted. Her eyelashes separated, revealing her earthy green eyes. He felt all kinds of emotions rushing through his blood, ideas and confusion clouding his thoughts. What did this mean? Did she really want to kiss him? Or was she feeling bad about her lover's death? Did she care about him the same way he did her? All these questions stuck to the roof of his mouth. All he could say was:
"Well. How 'bout them mangoes?" She smiled warmly.
"Sounds perfect."
He released her unwillingly from his hold. She stepped forward, to lead the way. He caught her arm. She paused and looked back at him. He took her hand into his, and they walked back to the camp. Together.
NEXT SATURDAY
Sawyer slept off and on the entire night through- he didn't want to oversleep and miss it. Groggily, he glanced at his watch again. It was time. He pulled on his jeans and a short-sleeved, muted green t-shirt. Barefoot, he quietly made his way over to Kate's tent. He pushed back the entrance and knelt by her head. Gently shaking her arm, he attempted to rouse her.
"Hey, Freckles," Sawyer breathed. She squinted her eyes.
"What time is it, Sawyer? It can't be morning yet?"
"It's not- but it's about to be."
"What- what do you want?"
"It's Saturday, sassafrass. We're gonna watch the sunrise." She rolled over onto her stomach and propped herself up on her arms and stared at him, puzzled, for several seconds. Her blue shirt rested on the small of her back, and the fleece airline blanket was coiled around her legs, leaving her ankles and awkward feet poking out on the sand.
"Well, alright, then." She tossed the blanket off her legs, revealing her bare thighs. Her underwear rested low on her hips, and her shirt left a short break of skin between them. Sawyer inhaled sharply. She reached over into a suitcase she was using to store her belongings, and grabbed her discarded khaki cargo pants. Slipping them on, she cast a meaningful look at the man whose eyes were transfixed on her. He was still kneeling in the sand where she had been moments ago.
"Let's go," she murmured. They stole out of her tent and made their way towards the spot they had been just one week ago. They sat down in the sand and were silent for a very long time. Kate leaned into Sawyer and rested her head on his shoulder. He drew his arm around her and sighed in contentment.
"Why were you up at dawn, Sawyer?" she asked, nestling her hand into his chest comfortably.
"So I could watch the sunrise with you, Freckles," he answered, stroking her hair. "And let me tell you, it was a helluva job timing it. Next time, lets just watch the stars."
"I meant last Saturday morning," she clarified. He swallowed and paused before answering.
"I couldn't sleep."
"Hmm?"
"Bad dreams."
"I see." She didn't press the matter, understanding he didn't want to talk about it. One of the thing she loved best about Sawyer was that there was no need for explanations between them- they understood one another. They just watched the sun come up. They stayed on their own private turf for over an hour, basking in the physical contact and each others company. Sawyer cleared his throat. "Tom was right, you know," he said, looking her in the eye. Kate's expression was slightly curious and baffled.
"What do you mean?"
"Saturday ocean sunrises are the best." Kate sighed and closed her eyes. Leaning her head back against him, she smiled and squeezed his hand.
"They really are."