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The sky was striped with yellow, red, orange, and lavender as Belle got out of her Jeep and took a few hesitant steps toward the walking trail. The air was warm and she could hear someone playing current pop songs from a car radio nearby. Maybe it was her own dream, or maybe it was the foreboding words of both Lisa and Maria, but as she put her first sneakered foot onto the cement path, Belle had a sense that she was making a momentous decision in approaching the bench where she knew she’d find Hunter Birchfield sitting to watch the dying of the light.
Belle was able to walk almost normally, with only a tiny limp to her left leg. She went a few hundred feet up that path, and saw him sitting on the park bench. His back was to her, his eyes on the gorgeous sunset. Everything about him screamed sadness. His slumped posture, his hands dangling between his knees, the slack expression on his face, the fact he sat under the changing sky all by himself. He was wearing khaki cargo shorts and a dark blue polo shirt. He had sandals on his feet. The gentle breeze riffled through his hair and for a moment Belle thought about what it would be like to do that with her fingers.
She had a sudden, evil thought, that sent her off the path and further away from the man she was watching. She passed him and moved closer to the water, taking a seat on the ground under a willow tree. Belle pulled out her cell phone and found Hunter in her contacts list where she’d added him after Maria give her his number. She sent a text asking what he was doing.
She watched as he fished his phone from a pocket of his shorts. He looked at the screen for a long time, then his fingers moved over it. He wasn’t as deft on the keyboard as she was, Belle noted. But he got the message to her.
“Who is this?” he asked.
“A friend, I think,” she wrote back.
“Do I know you?”
“Yes. Isn’t the sunset perfect tonight?” she sent.
His head jerked up and he looked around, left and right, then stood and turned away from the lake to scan the area around him. Belle watched without moving. He seemed to study a pair of slow-walking couples for a moment, then sat back down.
“I give up,” his next text message said. “I don’t know who you are or where you are. Come out, come out?”
Belle considered for a moment. He obviously couldn’t see her, and she was enjoying the game. She texted, “Why do you look so sad?”
She watched him look at his phone for a long time, then look up at the fading sunset for a longer time. Finally, he texted back, “It’s a long story. Where are you? Do I know you?”
“Yes, you know me,” she wrote.
She watched him read the message and look around again, but he didn’t get off the bench this time. He wrote, “This is a little creepy.”
Belle smiled and told him, “The willow holds the secret, Mr. Birchfield.”
Hunter looked up again and scanned his surroundings. His eyes landed on the willow tree. He studied it for a moment, then rose from the bench and started walking toward it. Belle remained where she was, watching him through the thin, swaying branches and long green leaves. The water lapped at the shore a few feet away from her. When he was about twenty yards away, she saw recognition come to his eyes and his sadness gave way to a smile. He ducked under the branches and stood over her.
“Well, it’s the mysterious Belle Kitching,” he said.
“I’m the mysterious one?” she teased.
“You’re the one texting without giving your name,” he reminded.
“I enjoyed watching your confusion. You sure gave that one couple a hard stare,” Belle said.
“For a minute I thought I recognized one of them, but it wouldn’t have made any sense for him to be texting me like that,” Hunter answered.
“Sit down,” Belle commanded. “It’s intimidating to be looking up at you like this.” She patted the soft grass next to her.
“People will think we’re lovers, sitting under the willow like this,” he said as he sank down to sit cross-legged with her.
“You’re not close enough for that,” Belle said. “And people will think a lot of things, anyway.”
“How’s the ankle?” he asked.
“Better,” she told him. “Thank you again for helping me. I hope to be able to run on it again in a few days.”
“Well, be careful with it. Don’t force it.” His voice was deep and smooth and had a naturally compassionate tone, Belle thought. She wondered what he did for a living. She figured he was a social worker or maybe a psychologist. She considered whether he could help her with her Intro to Psychology homework.
“What?” she asked, suddenly realizing he’d asked her something and she’d totally missed it.
“I asked what you’re doing out here if you can’t run yet,” he said.
“Oh ...” Belle stammered. “I just, you know, came to walk. I can still do that.”
“Okay,” he said, holding his hands up in defense of the tone she’d finished with.
“Sorry,” she said. “Why are you here?”
“For the sunset,” he answered.
“It is beautiful,” Belle observed. They both turned to look at the sky, which was nearly all purple now except for a streak of yellow just above the horizon.
“Yes, it is,” he agreed. “I’d like to watch the sunset on the West Coast. Maybe in Oregon, where it would be a little cooler.”
“Why?” Belle asked, curious.
He gave an embarrassed smile and shrugged. “The symbolism, I guess. Sunset is a time it’s neither day nor night, and to stand on the beach with the water coming in around your feet it would be like you’re not on land or water. Another in-between place.”
“That’s pretty deep,” she said.
He shrugged one shoulder and looked away again toward the darkening horizon. “It’s what I used to do.”
“What do you mean?” Belle prompted.
“Nothing,” he said. “I guess you know I went to your restaurant. I assume that’s how you got my number. Unless you’re stalking me.”
“Maria gave it to me.” Belle gave his arm a playful slap. “You were supposed to come on a night I’m working. You can’t just randomly show up asking for a free meal. That’s weird.”
“You didn’t give me your work schedule,” he answered.
“Touché,” she conceded. “I work tomorrow night. You can come then. I mean, you know, if you don’t have anything else to do.”
“My calendar is pretty clear,” he admitted. “I could use a free meal. I’m down to a bottle of ketchup and the heels to a loaf of bread at home. I was saving those for some toast this weekend.”
Belle gave him a startled look, not knowing what to make of that. He laughed at her. More of a chuckle, really, but it was deep and happy, though the sadness never left his face.
“I’m joking,” he said. “I’ve got half a can of tuna, too. No, but really, if you’re working tomorrow, I’ll come in then. But you don’t have to comp my meal. I’ll pay.”
“We already covered this. You helped me and I want to show my thanks,” Belle said.
“Why are you really sitting under a willow tree at Lake Hefner?” he asked, suddenly serious.
“I enjoy a good sunset, even if I’m not so deep into symbolism. And there’s the sound of the waves,” she said, motioning toward the water.
“Uh-huh.”
“Mr. Birchfield, do you think I came here looking for you?” Belle asked.
He smiled, but it was his usual sad smile. Then he shook his head. “Of course not. Pure coincidence,” he said.
Something about his manner drove the teasing out of Belle’s heart. She pressed her lips together, then confessed, “Actually, I did come looking for you tonight.”
He nodded, but didn’t comment at first. Eventually, he asked, “Why?”
Belle shrugged. “I’d like to say it’s because I missed you at the restaurant yesterday. But I came a couple of days ago, too.” She laughed nervously. “I don’t usually try to track men down. But you were nice. Mostly, anyway. Until you thought girls couldn’t go mudding. Then you were a sexist pig.”
He gave a slow grin. “I apologize for that. You didn’t strike me as the mudding type. But that’s my mistake. Obviously I don’t know anything about you other than you jog at the lake, like sunsets and willow trees, and work at a Mexican restaurant owned by a pretty sassy little lady.”
Belle laughed. “Maria is pretty sassy,” she agreed. “She’s a hoot to work for, though. She’s like another mom.”
There was a moment of silence, then Hunter said, “We’ve lost our sunset.”
“There’ll be another one tomorrow,” Belle said. She thought she saw a flicker of sadness run across his face before he spoke again.
“Yes, there will,” he said.
“It’s dark now, and Old Man Willow won’t provide me any protection against the lowlifes that’ll come creeping around,” Belle said. “This would be a good time for you to offer to take me for coffee. We could sit in actual chairs.”
“Like a date?” he asked dubiously.
“Like two people getting coffee,” she said. “A date is planned ahead of time. We didn’t plan this meeting.”
He offered his sad half-smile again. “It seems to me we kind of did. You already admitted you came looking for me. I was hoping to see you again, too.”
“Really?” Belle asked, and cursed herself for sounding so pleased.
He nodded. “Yeah. I ... I don’t know. But I thought of you quite a bit after you hurt your ankle. You seemed like a nice person.”
“I’m really not,” Belle told him.
“Come on. You’re named after a Disney princess.”
“Belle wasn’t a princess. Her dad was a lowly inventor. She just fell in love with a prince.”
“I stand corrected. Again,” Hunter said. “So. We’re going for coffee? At almost ten o’clock?”
“Live a little. Or drink decaf,” Belle teased. “I know a nice little shop by Oklahoma City University. Do you want me to drive?”
“I’ll follow you,” Hunter said. He got to his feet and offered a hand to help Belle to rise. She took it and noted again the tightening of his chest muscles as he pulled her up.
They walked back to the parking lot that was nearly empty now. Belle climbed into Ruby and called out to Hunter, “Try to keep up!”