by Bea Bledsoe
She didn’t dare breathe as a window of opportunity was opening in front of her. Henry continued. “Here’s the deal. I have two conditions: one, I won’t tell anyone what you did, if you agree to answer every single question I have about you.” He ran his fingers along the boyish stubble on his chin. “And two, by the end of summer you will pay me back my money, with interest. And without stealing it from someone else.”
She exhaled a breath of relief, her mind vaulting forward like a fox from a trap. This was mercy, and she would take it. She couldn’t afford anything less. It was generous, if not completely just. In this deal, she wasn’t going to jail. She could stay at school. She hid her relief as she swiveled to face him in the back of the dark car. “How do I know you’ll hold up your end of the deal?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure you have a leg to stand on here, but I’ll play. You don’t trust me?” he said softly.
Leigh looked at him in the dark car, the shadow of trailing raindrops passing over his immaculately carved face. “I don’t trust anyone.” She answered shortly.
“How about I swear on my grandfather’s life?”
Leigh flinched, remembering the postcard in her pocket, and the words written there. “Okay, well, you don’t need to go that far. That seems extreme.”
He shrugged. “It’s a unique situation.” He said it in a light tone, but there was a deep sadness in his words.
“How about instead of swearing we just shake on it?” She suggested. Henry stuck out his hand and after a moment, Leigh slid her palm into his. His hand was a little rough, his fingers long and callused. Rowers hands. The warmth of it felt nice. She held on a second too long and upon realizing it, turned back to the window to hide the blush in her cheeks. Henry settled back into his seat with the ease of a person who had everything.
“Now that’s settled, who are you really, Evelyn Porch? And don’t give me another fake name, because I will find out eventually, and my patience might not be so generous the second time around.” She gave a hollow laugh and rolled her eyes. He frowned.
“There, see, what you just did there was fake. Tell me something real. Tell me who you are.” The determination in his face was so blatant that she couldn’t help but smile. His face lit up when she did, and she felt another unfamiliar flutter rush through her.
“My name is Leigh. Leigh Montgomery.” She said softly, before breathing out onto the foggy window, her fingers tracing an outline of a circle.
“Leigh,” Henry echoed, his eyes tracing her face. “Yes, I can see that. You are much more a Leigh than an Evelyn.” Outside, the city of Boston passed by in a blur of brick buildings and yellow orbs of light. “And Leigh, do you actually attend our esteemed Harvard?”
After a long pause, she nodded. “Undergrad.” In her mind she was weighing the pros and cons of lying to him again, but what was the point when he could now look her up easily? In fact, when she thought about it, there was really no point in lying to him about anything. She couldn’t juggle that and the worry about her parents at the same time. The boy from the bar had ferreted her out; he had won. She would give him what he asked and not a breath more. “Sociology, with a minor in psychology.”
“Okay.” He rubbed his chin. “Sociology, interesting. Did you use your sociology and psychology techniques to seduce me back to my dorm room?”
Leigh laughed for real this time. “Oh yes, that was me, a wicked sorceress. Using only my mind, I dragged you all the way across campus, moving your body with my unnatural powers to pull you under.” She met his eyes as she curled her fingers diabolically. “If I remember correctly, Henry – and I’m pretty sure I’m the only one of us who does – you gleefully led me by the hand across the quad, babbling the entire way about your vinyl collection.”
Even in the dark car, Leigh could see shame rise up Henry’s cheeks. He was definitely vulnerable about the fact that she had tricked him.
“That I do remember. And by the way, I never did show you my vinyl collection – it’s probably a good thing, since you might have pinched that, too.”
Leigh tilted her head. “Nah. I’m more of a radio girl. Also, vinyl doesn’t have a great resale value.”
“Innocent people’s cash on the other hand….” Henry snapped, his anger lashing out briefly, “is always a winner.”
Leigh couldn’t meet his eyes and looked back out the window. They were almost to the airport; the campus wasn’t very far. Thankfully, this terrible conversation was almost over. “Cash pays my tuition.” She said softly. “Did you think I was spending it on furs and diamonds?”
An awkward silence filled the car as it pulled up in front of Logan airport. Outside the window, attendants at curbside drop-off rushed to meet their customers in heavy ponchos. The rain splattered down around the car. Leigh leaned forward and cheaply tipped the driver before turning to Henry. “Look, when I get back, we’ll have coffee and I’ll tell you everything you want to know. Also, I’ll pay you back by the end of the summer. You have my word.”
“No offense,” Henry countered with a raised eyebrow, “but the word of a thief means literally nothing.”
Leigh frowned and climbed out of the car, angrily slamming the door shut before going around to drag Imogen’s suitcase out of the trunk. When she turned around, Henry was standing in front of her on the soaking wet pavement.
“Where’s home?” He yelled as the rain dripped over his lips.
“Get back in the car.” Leigh’s sentence was cut off by the engine starting and she watched open-mouthed as the taxi peeled away from the curb, leaving them in a cloud of exhaust. “What the hell?” She shouted as rain beat down her cheeks. She wiped her face furiously. “Why didn’t you take the car back? Now you’re going to have to get another one!”
Henry smiled cryptically before reaching out and taking the suitcase from her. “Where is home?” He asked again.
“Um, Wyoming?” She sputtered. “Why does that matter?”
“Well…” He said enthusiastically. “I’ve never been to Wyoming.”
Leigh Montgomery tended to always be one step ahead of everything; it was how she had been raised. She had grown up hunting and that’s what it required: forethought, patience, stillness. Her small-town life had been hard, and that had made her careful and calculating. She had promised herself that she wouldn’t be caught off-guard again like she was when she had first come to Harvard. And yet nothing had prepared Leigh for watching a determined Henry Champney drag her suitcase under the airport overhang. Who the hell was this kid?
“Wait here while I get a ticket!” he called, like it was nothing.
“That is ridiculous!” Leigh snapped, her utter unbelief turning into annoyance as rain dripped over her eyelashes. “You can’t get on a plane with me.”
He shrugged in return. “Why not? It’s a free country – maybe I feel like going to Wyoming. The horse state?” He twisted his mouth. “I feel like that’s not right.”
Leigh grabbed his arm roughly, not liking how out of control she was beginning to feel. “Is this part of your deal – a punishment?” She hissed. “Because it’s starting to feel that way. Maybe I would rather have you call the police on me if you’re going to act like a stalker.”
Henry blinked and stepped back from her. “My deal was that you are going to answer all my questions, Leigh.” Her name was like whiskey on his tongue. “And I have about a million left, so a weekend trip sound like just the thing.” With a wink, he strolled away from her toward the ticketing area, where a smiling clerk looked more than happy to help. She was left clenching her fists and teeth. She had two choices: one, she could focus on dissuading Henry and possibly miss her flight, or two, she could just let him go along on his personal quest for the truth and let it play out until he was satisfied. She needed to keep him happy; this unnervingly positive rower was the only thing standing between her and her losing everything she had worked so hard for. Besides, what choice did she have? What Leigh needed was to go home and find ou
t the reason for her parent’s silence. Henry Champney was nothing more than a speed bump in her path. Also, there was the small possibility that she could get him to pay for the rental car. Her fist uncurled as Henry bounced up next to her, looking pleased with himself. The hubris of this guy was mind-boggling.
“One ticket from Boston to Wyoming via Denver booked. Man! That was a pricey flight.”
She looked over at him, her cool demeanor returning. “Don’t you have any plans of your own this weekend? A family to visit? You only have a backpack.”
Henry bent over to tie his shoe. “It’ll be enough; I’ve got some practice clothes in there and a coat. But thank you for asking, Leigh, that’s so considerate of you to consider my needs. In fact, I did have plans this weekend. My plan for this weekend was meet the girl who stole two thousand dollars from me. You are my plans. Now tell me, Leigh, why are you – I mean we - going home? A resort visit maybe? Yellowstone? A family lodge?”
She turned to him, her face completely void of emotion.
“I’m going home because I can’t get ahold of my parents and I’m worried that something terrible has happened to them.” The look of regret on Henry’s face was so satisfying that it temporarily lifted Leigh out of her own worried fog. She turned away, delighted by his panicked expression.
“Come on Harvard. We’re going to miss our plane.”
4
Thankfully their seats weren’t together, and Leigh had a moment to gather her thoughts as the lights of Boston turned into a glowing luminescent spill outside her plane window. Unable to sleep, she pulled the postcard out of her pocket and held it up in the dim cabin lights. Her eyes traced over the Absaroka mountain range at the peak of the card before she flipped it over. She noticed the stamp in the corner, almost illegible. She held it close to her face, trying to make out the date. The light shifted, and there it was: February 28th of this year. Just under two months ago. Why had it taken so long to reach her?
“What is that?”
She almost jumped out of her seat at Henry’s voice. “Why are you always just lurking around?” He gave a small laugh, and Leigh was unnerved at how much she enjoyed the sound.
“Can I sit?” He reached up and rested his arms on the luggage compartment. Leigh let her eyes notice all the details about him that she didn’t before; his long torso and the way his navy parka rested just above his hips. He had neat toffee-colored hair, the light amber strands illuminating the hints of chocolate of his eyes. His eyelashes were thick, his eyebrows heavy, and a line of stubble was tracing his way across his jaw.
“Like the view?” He asked, and she frowned to hide the blush rising up her cheeks. He plopped down into the seat next to her and buckled his seatbelt.
“What can you see out there?” He asked, leaning towards her.
“Just the black.” She answered quietly.
“So, you’re from Wyoming?”
Leigh looked over at him before shaking her head with disbelief. “You’re really not going away, are you?”
Henry leaned back on the seat, his arms above his head. “The way I see it, you can continue your elaborate – and truth be told – seductive dance of secrecy, or we can just chat like regular people. Either way, we have a four-hour flight ahead of us, followed by another short flight, so it could be a long and painful silence.”
“That might be preferable.” Leigh snapped. “I enjoy silence.”
Henry’s eyes met her own. “I didn’t call the police.” He said softly. “But you agreed to terms, and like any business man, I would prefer to see those through.”
Leigh turned to him, her expression softer this time. “Fine, but you have no idea how hard I’ve worked to get to where I am, so you don’t get to casually talk about destroying it.”
The corner of Henry’s mouth twisted happily. “That’s the first honest thing I’ve heard you say.”
She tilted her head at him, brown hair brushing the edge of her coat. Finally, a sigh as worn as her patience trickled out of her. “What do you want to know?”
He settled into his seat. “Everything. Every single thing. Like, where are you from, for example?”
“Blackriver.” She said, lifting her hands up to make a square. “Here is Wyoming, and here’s the Sunlight Basin. It butts up against the North Absaroka mountain range, named for the Crow Indians. They’re volcanic, and the views…” She exhaled. “Are like nothing you could imagine. And here, right in the middle of them, is my town. An arm of the Clark’s Fork river runs right through the center of town, hence the name Blackriver.”
“It sounds beautiful.”
“It is.” Beautiful didn’t even begin to describe it, but Leigh knew there was no way to do it justice. Besides, he would soon see for himself. What would her parents say when she showed up with him?
“And you grew up your whole life there?”
“Born and raised. Blackriver has only 163 people in the entire town. Now, 162, since I left.” Henry whistled. “That’s really small. What did you do there?” Leigh closed her eyes, remembering the shadow of the trees washing over her as she darted among them, running through a field of purple lupine and blue columbines, pulling a fish from the river as her dad whooped.
“Hunting. Hiking. Fishing.”
“Hunting?” He raised his eyebrows. “It’s like you grew up in a Western.”
She nodded. “At times it felt like the whole world was my playground. I had a good childhood, but there weren’t any other children my age. I was homeschooled.” Her voice faltered. “Actually, most of the time it could be quite lonely.”
And there it was, a memory like a barb to the heart: her mother silently rocking out on the porch, her worn eyes staring out at the mountains. Her parents had always been quiet, but as Leigh grew older the silences became longer. Sometimes dinner had been eaten without any real conversation, and at night the silence was so heavy Leigh felt like she could barely breathe. And so she had turned to her studies, to textbooks and math worksheets and every possible book to fill the void. Her loneliness had turned into an insatiable thirst for knowledge, and that was what eventually had lifted her out of Blackriver. When she got there, Harvard felt like a place Leigh had built out of her deepest desires, a place bursting with stimulating conversation and laugher and most of all…people. Loads of people.
Henry’s eyes widened. “Homeschooled! I’ve never met anyone that was homeschooled.”
Leigh rolled her eyes. “You make it sound like that’s a terrible thing. I’m sure all your friends went to Ashbrooke Academy.”
He shook his head. “I love how you think you know everything about me. I’ve never even heard of Ashbrooke.” He let an embarrassed smile cross his face as he leaned his head back and groaned. “But….” He dragged the word out for an eternity. “I did graduate from Pier-Pont Boys Academy.”
Leigh snorted. “My, well you’re practically white trash then, aren’t you?” Henry was not amused, but she smiled. His attention was jerked away as a flight attendant handed them both a bag of pretzels.
“This is it? Pretzels? Usually in first class we get a whole meal.” Henry tipped the entire bag into his mouth, tapping it with his palm as Leigh actively suppressed her snark. “So, that’s where we are going, huh? Blackriver. Tell me more about why you are worried about your parents.” Leigh weighed her options for a minute before pulling the postcard out from her pocket and handed it to him. “I found this in my mail today.” God, that seemed like a million years ago. Henry flipped it over, his face growing grave as he read the words.
“Oh.” He said softly. “This does sound serious. But see how it says don’t come home? You’re doing the opposite.”
Leigh shook her head. “Honestly, I think it may be cryptic on purpose, like my mom couldn’t get me home any other way. But I can’t get ahold of them, and it seems like the phones in town are all down.”
“Hm. That is weird.” He handed the postcard back to her, folding his long fingers in his lap. “A
re you feeling nervous about going home?”
“No, it’s fine.” The lie was so bold that it almost took her breath away. Dread was roaring through her like a river, and she couldn’t quite believe that she was on a plane headed home. Home. That raw place that called to her every day even as she loved her new life at Harvard. Home, a beautiful, cruel place, like the mountains that loomed above it.
“I don’t believe you.” Henry said. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a tattered Harvard rowing cap, pulling it low over his eyes. “But I’m too tired to care. We should probably grab some sleep while we can. We’re going to land around midnight.” Leigh nodded and closed her eyes. Sleep might be good. Just when she was drifting off, she heard his voice again.
“Hey, Leigh.” Henry said softly.
“I thought we were sleeping.” She answered, cracking open one eye.
Henry smiled under his hat. “You’re even more beautiful when you don’t work to hide your accent.”
Leigh curled away from him, unsure how to feel, pulling her yellow coat around her for warmth. As the plane sliced through the starless night, Leigh surrendered to the lull of the engines, her body forgetting that death sat right outside the thin plastic window.
Three hours later they landed at Denver International and boarded the silver trains that hurtled them through the dark tunnels underneath the airport. Leigh sleepily watched Henry in the filtering light as they raced forward. Outside the train windows, tin pinwheels spun in their draft.
“This is your last chance.” She said quietly, leaning against one of the subway poles.