Bear Meets Bride (R) - Amy Star Page 0,12

I’m glad you showed me the island. And… and it is refreshing, to be able to change with another person. It’s just,” she looked away quickly, “I guess the whole marriage thing crept up on me. I’ve known, objectively, I was going to get married for a long time… but, it didn’t really hit me until last night. I just feel scrambled.”

He gave an understanding nod. “Just like these eggs.”

She chuckled. “Yeah, more or less. Anyway… it’s… it’s not you…”

“Take as much time as you need,” Dylan said, and looked back at the pan quickly. Even though she was still a stranger to him, those words had hit a nerve. As much as he wanted to believe that her reticence now was due to her own feelings – and perhaps her own misgivings – it was impossible for him to fully extricate himself from the equation. Other than the island, he was the only new variable in her life, and if she was having trouble accepting the circumstances, than he was invariably at the center of it.

Already, his mind was racing, trying to decipher some sort of solution that would put them both back on equal and stable ground. There is no stability with emotions like these, he thought sagely, and then for the umpteenth time since he’d been on the island, worried that Chris’ somewhat pedantic (if unerringly wise) ways were rubbing off on him.

“Maybe you’d better wake up the old bear,” he said, thumbing toward the door of his own room. There was still an audible growling sound as Chris snored away, like an idling chainsaw.

The next few days passed without incident, becoming a kind of blur for all three of them. For the most part, Chris stayed out of the way of Dylan and Sarah, as if encouraging them to get to know each other better without his supervision or intervention. There was a sense of politeness between Dylan and Sarah that almost seemed formalized. They would greet each other, smile, share pleasantries, try to help out with the daily chores whenever possible, but it was as if each polite gesture was somehow placating a deeper anxiety.

For Sarah, it was like walking on the thread of a spider-web, even though she knew that the majority of the tension they were all feeling was mostly because of her. She was the outsider who had invaded the men’s private world and as much as she tried to act normal and take it all in stride, something was holding her back.

That first day, fresh off the floatplane’s wing, she had vowed to take charge. It was only natural, considering she had been thrown into a situation that wasn’t her charge. She couldn’t blame the men either; Dylan had done, and seemingly continued to do, his best to be welcoming, but both of them seemed to be skirting the elephant in the room.

We’re supposed to get married. It wasn’t that the notion of marriage particularly appalled her. Part of her training had been learning to accept it as a casual fact and she had to admit the idea of it excited her, deep down. The idea of finding a mate, of being able to share her life with a common soul, and of course, of the more physical aspects, thrilled her. She blushed, even though no one was in the cabin at this time of day. Dylan always left early in the morning, whether she was awake or not. If she was, she got to enjoy his famous breakfasts, which were always filling and gave her energy for the rest of the day.

But it was lonely sometimes to wake up to an empty cabin. Although Chris slept late, these days he too had taken to leaving the cabin early, reveling in the domestic duties of the island, such as lugging water up from the creek, cleaning, clearing brush, or maintaining the many trails that circulated over the island like a webbed circuitry. The latter was an odd duty, considering more often than not, Dylan preferred to roam as a bear, and Chris usually realized in hindsight that it would be quicker to get from point A to point B by simply bushwhacking.

She sighed and tossed her dishes in the sink and felt little motivation to clean them. Instead, she slipped on a pair of running shoes and her shorts and decided to go for a run. At least I’ll give Chris’ hard work a sense of purpose, that way, she resigned.

It