“’Bout once a month. Six weeks maybe, if I had shit going on.” He shrugs like his admission means nothing.
Like he didn’t just tear open old wounds, making them fresh and bloody and painful.
I’m shit at math, but a rough calculation would mean he’s been here over a hundred times through the last fourteen years.
How could he have been that close, so often, and not once cross paths?
“Did you ever even look for me?” I blurt, so caught up in my revelation I forget to apply a filter.
His torso swings toward me. Hands ball into fists at his side, and his face pales right before it heats crimson. The lines at the side of his eyes stand out white and prominent with his angry squint.
“Let’s dissect what it is exactly that you’re asking me, and maybe you can figure out the answer to that question yourself.”
“No, it’s okay. I shouldn’t have said anything. I need to go.” Noting my immediate error, I move to step around him toward the parking lot, but he matches me step for step.
His enormous body may barricade my exit, but it’s his words that immediately stop me in my tracks. “Did I ever look for you? I looked for you tirelessly. The night you left, I stayed out until the cops found me, because my parents couldn’t find us and they had to call for help. Everyone thought we ran away together, but I knew otherwise since you left me behind.
“Nobody saw you go. Nobody heard a thing. As far as the residents of Logansville knew, you fucking vanished. I spent hours searching abandoned lots and drainage ditches, scared out of my damn mind that I was going to find you beaten, raped, or worse, murdered. I looked for you for months.
“But you couldn’t have asked that question alone, you had to throw the word even in there, somehow insulting me further and implying that I’d just forgotten about you the second you disappeared as if you’d meant nothing to me.”
He eviscerates me. My heart burns where it beats steadily in my chest. He didn’t just stab it; he set the bloody stump on fire. I knew my decision to go affected him, but to hear the straight anger and pain in his voice after all this time is more than I ever expected.
Either my pain is more concealed than I thought, or he ignores it.
“A few months after you disappeared, my father came to me and said he received a phone call. You’d gone to live with a great aunt in Maine, and you were to have no contact with your friends back home. Now I can see that’s bullshit too.” He settles his hands on his hips and rolls his neck. The facade crumbles. He throws his hands in the air as he roars, “Does this look like fucking Maine to you?”
Seeing it, feeling it, knowing he wouldn’t make a move out of anger to hurt me, I still nearly jump out of my skin. “No. I never went to Maine,” I rasp through a dry throat.
Law’s eyes turn distrustful. I don’t blame him. But out of all the pain I’d caused, that lie isn’t mine. I never pretended I’d moved to Maine, asked no one to spread that rumor. It appears his father had his own agenda and did whatever he could to make sure Law moved on from me.
Not that I can blame him. If it eased a modicum of his son’s pain, I should be grateful.
Should be, but I’m not.
“You’ve been here the entire time, haven’t you?” The question doesn’t lilt at the end, his voice dead with resignation.
I don’t want to answer, but I also don’t want to lie to him anymore.
“Yes.”
The silence spreads between us. A breeze blows briskly against my cheek, but I hardly register the chill. Our eyes lock on one another in a stare I think might go on forever.
Until I break it.
“I know this means nothing to you now, but if I could somehow show you how sorry I am, I would. I did the best I could with what I had, and this is how my life turned out. I think it’s great you’ve been visiting Ritchie all this time. I know it’d have meant a lot to him, too. Look,” I run my fingers through my tangled hair, frustrated because he seems to ignore me again. “You need time and I do too. I should get going. But if you come back in a few weeks and would like to get coffee and catch up, I’d be open to that.”
“Where are you off to?”
His selective hearing messes with my don’t get riled up attitude. In the spirit of being civil, I answer him vaguely. “I have plans.”
“It’s her birthday,” he states, as if he knows her and hadn’t only heard about her three days ago.
I breathe sharply through my nose. “Yes.”
A look of contemplation crosses his face. “You know it’s–ˮ.
“I know.” I cut him off and smile sadly. “I never forgot. I’m reminded every year.”
Law only nods once before turning back to Ritchie’s grave.
It seems like an obvious cue to go, so I start for the parking lot. This time, he doesn’t stop me.
“Happy birthday, Law,” I say, hurting that for the first time since his sixteenth birthday, I speak those words within his hearing range.
“Thanks,” he mutters somberly, and I wonder if he feels the same.
As I drive away, I realize I didn’t give him a way to contact me. The knowledge hurts more than it should after all this time. Even more evidence that it’s best he doesn’t come looking for me. We don’t need to reconnect. What would that solve? He’s probably changed a lot over the years, and I have a daughter…
It’s safer to leave the past behind us and continue with our separate futures.
4
“Happy birthday to you…”
Kiersten and I sing the customary tune to Evelyn. Our trio celebrates in our traditional fashion. The three of us gather in my modest ranch-style home, the remnants of the birthday girl’s favorite meal litters the table, and lit candles stick out of a cheesecake sampler.
Evelyn acts more embarrassed than usual and covers her face with a groan. “Mom!”
Kiersten and I harmonize the last few notes like two foxes screaming in the night and kiss the birthday girl on each cheek.
“Blow out the candles, baby.”
She rolls her eyes, but the smile on her face can’t conceal her happiness. As she’s done every year since she turned four, Evelyn closes her eyes to make a wish and blows out her fourteen candles.
Each year, I wonder what she wishes, and each year, she looks at me with a slight smile and refuses to share.
For some kids, the wish-making falls into the category of the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus, and they blow out the candles to appease their parents when all they want to do is dig into the sweet yummy goodness in front of them.
Not my Evelyn. She doesn’t believe in the made-up characters anymore, but she still believes in the power of wishes and prayers.
“Let’s eat cake!” Her eyes flutter open.
My smile slips at the flash of those eyes. That smile with the small tilt at the ends. Memories flood through gates I locked over a decade ago. Law’s sudden return messes with my head once again.
“You okay?” Kiersten leans in while Evelyn snatches the plates and scoops out her slice of triple chocolate cheesecake.
“Hmm? Oh. I’m fine.” I force a chuckle. “Memories, you know? I just can’t believe how old she’s getting.”
She cocks her head in silence. Her perceptiveness can be useful, but I pray she doesn’t question my odd behavior.
After dishing our plates, we retreat to the sofa and Evelyn clicks on the TV. “What should we watch?”
I dig into my slice of turtle cheesecake. My answer comes around a mouthful of caramel and chocolate goodness dancing on my tongue. “You pick, birthday girl.”
Evelyn sets down her plate and searches through a streaming service. By doing so, I glimpse Kiersten on the other side of her studying me.
What? I furrow my brow.
What’s up with you? She mouths back, jabbing her fork in my direction. I cut my eyes to Evelyn to find her still flipping through movies.
Nothing. As I shovel another forkful of cake into my mouth, I
turn back to the TV and smile. Evelyn’s at that tricky age between kid and adult. Her tastes have changed drastically over the past couple months, and she tries so hard to fit in with her mom and aunt. She browses movies a little (a lot) above her comprehension and maturity.
I open my mouth to comment, but something hard pelted at my temple cuts me off. My back straightens, and I snap my gaze back to Kiersten. I skim the couch cushion with my hand, all while glaring, and come up with the weapon. A chocolate chip.
Are you kidding me?
We are talking later.
No, we are not, I mouth back.
Kiersten looks ready to respond, but a knock on the door swivels all our heads that way.
“Who could that be?” Evelyn asks, and my heart falls at the inflection of hope. She knows her only family sits in that room with her. In fourteen years, not one surprise visitor graced us, and door-to-door sales are rare in Arrow Creek. It hurts that my baby can’t expect anyone else to shower her in affection on her special day.
“Find a show, baby. I’ll get it.”
I shoot one last glare at Kiersten, but her attention focuses out the window to the front yard.
I reach the door and my heart leaps into my throat. I’ve lived a long time waiting, hoping, and being disappointed that nobody came looking for me. Pretending I was fine and that I’d put that life behind me. This is just another reminder of all those stupid daydreams that never came true. But as I clasp the door handle, I stupidly can’t help myself from hoping one last time.
And being disappointed.
The air rushes from my lungs at the empty doorstep. Beside the door, a bouquet of helium balloons bob on the string tied to a weight wrapped in metallic purple paper. Next to the weight sits a rectangle box wrapped to match—a gift. On top lays a card.
I check behind me to make sure the girls haven’t followed me to the door before I bend down to retrieve the card. Unaddressed and unsealed. I scan the street before me, but there’s nobody there. No one strolls down the sidewalk, no unknown cars park along the side of the road.
The hairs stand up on my neck. Only one person could be responsible for this, and that raises the question of how did he know where I lived?
This is becoming too much.
What am I supposed to do here? The curious part of me wants to rip it all open and find out what’s inside. But the cautious mother in me thinks no way in hell a stranger will give my daughter a birthday gift without me knowing what it is first. Because let’s be honest; Law is a stranger. I might have known him all those years ago, but he’s not the same person he used to be.
Yet another part of me screams louder than the rest, “This is Law!”
Law. The boy who held my hand at my dad’s funeral and then begged his parents to let me sleep over so I didn’t have to feel alone.
The boy who’s shoulder I cried on when I got sad, and who didn’t tease me for being a baby, even if I was being one.
The boy who stole my first kiss without my permission, because he knew, even if I was stubborn and wouldn’t admit it, that I wanted him to.
The boy who proudly made me a necklace for my fifteenth birthday, because he knew I’d appreciate something he made much more than something he’d bought with his parent’s money.
The boy who’d taken on driving my brother to chemo as soon as he’d got his license, because I had to work after school to make money for my family.
And the boy who’d looked for me after I’d disappeared. Who, to this day, couldn’t hide the pain and rage of having to do so and coming up empty-handed. Who, I was fairly certain, hated every ounce of me and yet, still dropped a gift for my baby on my doorstep.
Lawrence Briggs is a lot of things, most of them I don’t even know anymore. Too much time has passed. But he’s not cruel or malicious. He’d never leave something at my house that would endanger my daughter. To the bottom of my soul, I believe that.
With that thought, I scan the inside of the card, confirming my suspicions when I note his signature. I ignore the way my heart picks up at his familiar handwriting and gather the rest of the items from the porch. The door shuts behind me with a soft thud. Two sets of curious, yet guilty, eyes follow me from the foyer down the hall to the living room while helium balloons bounce off my head.
“Hey, snoops.” I level them both with a glare of motherly disapproval. “You’ve got another gift, Ev.”
“Who’s it from?” Suspicion laces her tone, but a gleam of excitement lights her eyes.
I both hate and love Law for putting it there.
No, not love. That word is too heavy for anything I could allow myself to feel for that man. Appreciate describes my feelings more accurately.
I let a smile stretch my lips, even though they burn to frown instead. “An old friend.” Kiersten’s glare sears into the back of my head.
Evelyn cocks her head and reaches out her hands. “I thought you didn’t have any friends.”
I hand her the gift box and card and deposit the balloons beside the couch. “I have your Aunt Kiersten. She’s my friend.”
“I meant other friends.”
She isn’t wrong, and I want to curse Law for putting me in that position.
“I have Nathan.”
“He’s your work partner.”
I cross my arms over my chest in affront. “He’s also my friend.”
Her gaze fills to the brim with opposition, but she holds a retort.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen this friend. He came through town, and we ran into each other.”
“So why would he get me a gift?” She reads the card, so I use her distraction to think of a response that makes sense. I fall unfortunately empty, and I hate lying to my girl.
“Honestly, I don’t know. We used to be close friends.”
“I can see that,” Evelyn says, her voice sounding funny.
“What did you say?”
She raises her head from the card and stretches her hand out to me. Her index finger and thumb pinch a 4x6 photograph. It must have stuck to the inside of the card, and I didn’t see it when I opened it outside. My heart plummets for missing it.
As if time slows, I lean forward and take the picture from my daughter. I close my eyes to steel myself, but deep down I know that seeing a picture from the past will rip open old wounds and make them fresh. Hiding my reaction is impossible as the two closest people to me watch my every move. It kills that the one lie I’ve ever told either of them is this one, and it stares me in the face, forcing me to smile through it. I have to keep it together, because if I don’t, the walls I’ve spent fourteen years building around me will come crashing down and ruin me.
I open my eyes and smile, even though it’s watery.
A sob crawls out of my throat that I force into a laugh. I don’t even have to look at the picture closely to remember that day. I can recall with clarity where we were, the clothes we wore, and who was around us. Law and I had our arms wrapped loosely around each other in the backyard of his childhood home. My head was thrown back, laughing hysterically, because his fingertips were tickling my ribs. While I laughed, he looked over at me with a jovial grin, his grayish-green eyes twinkling.
I had picked out that yellow sundress with the white cardigan sweater specifically for his sixteenth birthday. He wore a nice pair of gray dress pants with a black button-down shirt tucked in and open at the collar. The two of us looked good together. Great, even. Back then, I thought he was too good for me. Now that I can see it through years of maturity, I can see the happiness.
The sound of paper tearing pulls me back to the present. I drop the photograph to the coffee table and look at Evelyn just in time to see her pulling a small book out of a white rectangular box.
“What is it, baby?” I rub at the base of my neck near my collarbone—a nervous habit.
She opens to the first page, scans it, then flips through the other pages quickly. “It’s a journal. Cool!” She clutches it to her chest.
“That’s a thoughtful gift.” I smile softly.
“I just filled my old notebook. You guys go ahead with the movie. I’m going to go write.” She darts down the hall, not needing a response.
The moment her bedroom door clicks shut, Kiersten rounds the coffee table and blocks me in. “You’re going to grab a glass of wine, sit your ass down, and tell me what the hell is going on.” Her subdued voice can’t conceal her annoyance.
“Make it the bourbon and you’re on.”
Her face contorts into a grimace. “Seriously?”
I jam the palms of my hands into my eye sockets. “I’m not going to get plastered. I just need something a little stronger, and I don’t want to dirty a glass.”
I hear her mumbling all the way to the kitchen. If she thought I annoyed her, she has another think coming.
The thunk of the bottle against the table prompts me to raise my head.
“Now talk. And don’t leave out anything, including that hot hunk of a man who left that gift for Evelyn.”
The hefty pull of bourbon chokes me at her words, and tears prick my eyes. The warm liquid burns and sends me into a coughing fit. “What?” I gasp.
“Don’t play stupid. You know who I’m talking about!”
“Not that. I mean, you saw him?”
Kiersten smirks. “I saw the back of him. It was so fine I can only imagine what the front looks like. What I don’t understand is why aren’t you seeing this guy? Very few men can fill out a pair of jeans like that…. Wait. Are you already dating him? Is that why you’ve been acting so weird?”
I pause in wiping the remaining tears from my eyes. “No. If you’d just shut your pie-hole, I could tell you the story.”
After a huff, an eye roll, and her stomping to find a seat on the couch, she snags the bottle of bourbon from the coffee table, takes a long pull, and waves said bottle in the air. “By all means.”
If I wasn’t already freaking out about the things I need to share, I would have laughed at her irritated response. Instead, I give her some side-eye before I precede.
“You know about…” I pause and glance down the hall. I lower my voice. “You know I got pregnant with Evelyn at sixteen and left my hometown. There’s a little more to it than that.”
Where We Meet Again Page 3