by Holly Rayner
He wasn’t sure if she recognized the name, or even remembered him.
“But… but you don’t look like Derek,” she said. “And you told me your name was Sean.”
Maybe she does remember me! he thought.
“I know,” he said. “It’s a long story. Delaney, back then, I wasn’t a good kid. Grew up in a troubled home… I’m not blaming my mother—she did the best she could. But she had struggles of her own. I won’t go into it, but basically I was on my own by the time I was nine and committing petty crimes by the time I hit my teens.”
She stayed quiet. He knew he had to go on, but it was difficult. He wasn’t ashamed of his past—he’d had to come to terms with the mistakes he’d made long ago, just for the sake of his own sanity. But still, putting it all into words to this beautiful woman was more challenging than he’d expected.
How could she possibly want to get to know him after hearing about his past?
He forced himself to go on, despite his doubts and apprehension.
“Things escalated. I got involved with the wrong crowd, and soon, we were doing big-time gigs. One went wrong, and half of my face was practically blown off.”
He reached up to touch his face. He couldn’t meet her eye as he went on.
“I had reconstructive surgery—it completely changed my appearance. I should have died that night…”
“But you didn’t,” she said gently.
He shook his head. “Nope… those doctors and nurses gave me another chance at life, and I took it. I’ve been a new man ever since. I changed my name and put all that behind me.”
“You’ve done well for yourself,” she said with a nod.
“Eight years of hard work, plus a few lucky breaks with the stock market will do that,” he said.
“I’m sure it was more than luck,” she said. “You always were smart.”
This surprised Sean.
“You… you remember me?” he asked.
She raised one side of her mouth in a soft smile and gave him the sweetest, most sincere look he’d ever received.
“Sure do,” she said simply. She sipped her drink.
She’s not hightailing it out of here, Sean realized with a bubbling feeling of relief. She’s still here. She’s still listening. Maybe she really will understand.
“Oh, yeah?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. He wanted to know more.
To his delight, her cheeks flushed pink.
“Sure… you were different than other kids. More aware, maybe. And nice, too. I remember seeing you help Roy McGovern back into his wheelchair after it tipped over in the cafeteria. I always thought that if we talked, we’d have a lot in common.”
“So why didn’t we talk more?” Sean asked.
She looked down at her drink, her dark bangs falling across her eyes. Her earrings sparkled like little stars under the fairy lights. Her profile was so stunning. He was having trouble believing that he was really sitting there next to her—Delaney Summers—and hearing that she’d noticed him in high school.
It was like a dream come true.
“I guess…” she said, “I guess I was a little bit intimidated by you. You know, you had the whole too-cool-for-school vibe going. Always skipping classes and breaking the rules. And I was little Miss A-plus, running around with a stack of textbooks hugged to my chest. I thought you wouldn’t want to associate with me.”
If only she knew how wrong she was. He’d have given anything to associate with her, back then. It was him who was intimidated by her. Before he could voice this, she spoke again.
“I don’t know if you remember this… but we had a class together once,” she said.
He chuckled. The one class they’d shared had been the highlight of his high school career. “I do remember that,” he said, trying to sound casual. “Mixed Media Art, with—”
“Mrs. Phipps,” she filled in. “We had class right after lunch, and it always smelled like her weird leftovers! I used to have to sit by the window just so I wouldn’t faint from the fumes.”
Sean laughed, and the sensation of laughing seemed to release so much tension in his body. He’d made it through the worst part, and Delaney was taking his confession so well.
She seemed to appreciate the break in the tension, too. She joined in with his laughter.
“Is that why you always sat by the window?” he asked.
“Oh, yeah,” she said. “To avoid death by tuna fish.”
“It was pretty bad, wasn’t it?” he asked, still chuckling.
As their laughter died down, he sipped the whiskey peach in his hands. The liquor buzzed through his veins, enhancing the dreamlike quality of the conversation. He felt almost as if he was on a swing that was hanging from the moon. He’d never felt so high.
“Derek Bradshaw,” Delaney said thoughtfully. “You know, I have this silly memory of you. It was nothing big, but it always kind of stuck with me…”
He waited for more.
She took a long drink from her cup and smiled thoughtfully as she swallowed.
He wondered what she was thinking about. What memory had triggered that smile? He was eager to find out.
“It’s silly, really,” she said again.
“I’d love to hear it,” he said.
“Okay, well back in Mrs. Phipps’ art class, there was this one day that we were working on origami folding. We happened to be sitting at the same table, and you tossed me this beautifully folded crane, made with the most gorgeous blue, green, and white paper.”
Of course, he remembered passing that crane to her well.
“I was having a rough day. I always used to be stressed, you know.” She rolled her eyes. “High school drama. I must have gotten a less-than-spectacular grade, or maybe I was dealing with some kind of spat on the cheer squad—we were always squabbling…”
She shook her head.
“Anyway, I remember how the crane made everything seem okay. They’re signs of peace, and I took it like a little sign from the universe that everything was going to be fine.”
She looked up at him and smiled. “I guess I never thanked you for it, but it really was a nice gesture. I’m sure you just gave it to me because we happened to be sitting at the same table.”
Sean remembered the blue, green, and white paper of the crane he’d folded. He remembered looking at the stack of papers and choosing just the right pattern for the crane he wanted to make for Delaney. The intricate designs on the little squares of origami paper had struck him as so unnecessarily beautiful.
In his life then, everything had served a function. The small home that he’d shared with his mother until she’d passed away had been bare except for the necessities—a table, two chairs, bare walls, a ratty brown couch, and a television that seemed to always be blaring out news of doom and gloom. The foster homes he’d stayed in were just as bare, ugly, and utilitarian.
Yet there, spread out before him on the art-room table, he’d looked with intensity at the intricate patterns that served no purpose but to bring joy and beauty. It had taken him over ten minutes to decide on the right paper to use.
He remembered the way kids in line around him had jostled past him, pushing and bumping and clowning around. But he’d stayed rooted to the spot despite the prompts to “‘just pick one already man.” And she remembered.
Lila approached, her tail wagging and a little bit of white streamer hanging from the corner of her mouth.
Delaney looked down at the dog. “Oops—looks like she got into the trash or something.”
While Delaney looked around for the source of Lila’s snack, the spell of their shared memory disappeared into thin air.
Sean reached for the streamer. “Girl, that’s not for eating,” he said as he plucked the gummed paper from her lips.
Delaney stood. “I think I see where she got it,” she said. She started walking over to a full trash bag that was tipped on its side.
Sean got up to follow her. He watched her jean-clad hips sway
side to side as she moved. She’s perfect, he thought.
Lila trotted next to him, guiltily wagging her tail and licking his hand a few times apologetically.
He looked down at her. “It’s okay, girl. You didn’t know. Where’s your brother?”
A clanging alerted him to the fact that Sam was busy burrowing out a morsel of food that had dropped behind a table that was leaned up against one wall. The table clanked and banged against the wall as Sam sniffed and wiggled in an effort to get to the food behind it.
Sean moved the table so that his dog could get to the treat and move on. At the same time, he heard the rustling sound of Delaney wrapping up and righting the bag of trash. Then, her voice traveled through the empty, echoey space.
“Yes, I’d like a pickup, please?” she said into her phone.
She was calling a cab.
Sean knew it had to happen, but he was disappointed, nonetheless. It felt so good to come clean to her, and he was so relieved that she’d received his confession well. He didn’t want the night to end. At the same time, he knew that it had to. It was nearing three in the morning, and it sounded like Delaney had a full day ahead.
He could also see that Delaney was feeling just as buzzed as he was off of the whiskey peaches, and she was probably tired from the long night of socializing and dancing.
She needs to get to bed, and so do I, he thought.
He wished desperately that they were heading to the same bed, but he knew it was too soon for that.
It’s good that she’s calling a cab, he realized.
Maybe this can really go somewhere, he thought. And I want it to start off on the right foot—with a real date. Now, I just have to figure out how to ask her.
He heard her boots tap against the cement floor as she approached.
She held up her phone. “Just called a cab. They’re going to be here in fifteen to take me back to that hotel a few miles away. Is it okay if I leave my truck here and come back in the morning to get it?”
“It’s more than okay,” he said.
While they made idle chit-chat about the dogs, Sean helped her load the few remaining bar items into a milk crate. He promised to take the trash out himself and helped her carry the last two crates out toward her truck.
“I guess that’s it,” she said, once they’d loaded the containers into the bed of her pickup. “I have to warn you, I’m an early riser. I’ll probably be back to get my truck in a few hours so I can get on home. I don’t expect you to be up. I’d better say goodbye now.”
Sean knew that the cab would arrive any minute.
“Delaney…” he said. He stepped closer to her. Moonlight bathed her angelic features.
She looked up at him with her kind, compassionate eyes. “Yes, Sean?” she said.
He wanted to kiss her. Right there and then, he wanted to step forward, cup her beautiful cheek in his palm, lean down, and place his lips on hers. He wanted her to kiss him back. He’d fantasized about how kissing her would feel so many times before. He could smell the strawberry gloss she wore, and he knew it would taste sweet on his tongue.
He resisted. She’d had two drinks, and so had he. I’ve got to do this properly, he reminded himself.
“I want to see you again,” he said.
To his delight, she nodded. “I’d like that, too,” she said.
“Maybe next weekend?” he offered. “I could take you out to dinner… if you’re around.”
“I’ll be around,” she promised. “Let me put my number in your phone.”
He handed over his phone and watched in awe as she entered her digits. Like a dream come true, he thought for the second time that evening. There was a faint sound of tires on the drive, and then headlights appeared, the yellow glow bouncing up and down as the cab rocked over the rutted road.
“There’s my ride,” she said.
She passed him his phone, and he took it without taking his eyes off of her.
“You’d better call,” she teased. “I don’t give my personal number out very often, you know.”
“I’ll call,” he promised.
He knew beyond a doubt that he would.
Chapter 8
Delaney
Delaney stepped out of the shower and onto the soft throw rug that lined her bathroom floor. Mr. Butters was perched on the sink. She reached for a thick white towel and used it to dry her body.
“I know, I know,” she said to her cat. “I’ve been neglecting you. Poor Mr. Butters.” She wrapped the towel around her and then reached out to stroke the top of his head. “I promise I’ll make it up to you tonight. We’re due for a good snuggle session.”
She reached for her phone and looked to see if she’d missed any calls. It was Wednesday, four days since the reunion. Sean had called the very next evening and had asked her out to dinner for the following Saturday.
Of course, she’d said yes.
Since then, she’d been working nonstop. Despite her business, she managed to check her phone constantly to see if he’d called again. She felt a little bit like a teenager in the throes of a high school crush.
Did he text? Did he call? How should I do my hair for our date?
It was such a different feeling than her usual all-business lifestyle, and she enjoyed the frivolousness of it. It was a welcome change to her usual routine.
“He didn’t call,” she informed her cat. “But maybe that’s good. After all, if he called, it might be to cancel our date, and that would be awful. So, maybe it’s fine.”
Mr. Butters meowed.
Delaney laughed as she ran a comb through her wet hair and then rubbed lotion into her arms. “I know, I’m being ridiculous. But he’s so hot! And nice, and funny, and—”
Another meow.
“Don’t get jealous,” Delaney chided Mr. Butters. She started spreading lotion over her ankles and lower legs, then worked up to her knees and thighs. “You’ll always be my number one,” she said.
She transitioned from her towel to a silky robe, and then scooped up the furball in her arms. She kissed the top of his head as she moved into the kitchen. It was almost six, but she wasn’t quite hungry enough for dinner.
Besides, there was a matter she wanted to attend to, before eating.
She pulled a bottle of white wine from the fridge and poured herself a glass. Then, she walked with Mr. Butters and her wine into her bedroom and contemplated her closet.
Do I still have it? she wondered, thinking about the crane that Sean had handed her, all those years ago.
She had a faint memory of saving it. Over the years, she’d moved apartments many times—so many that she’d tossed many keepsakes and mementos from her past, including her old cheer uniform, old papers and report cards, and shoeboxes filled with ticket stubs, programs, and birthday cards. She simply couldn’t lug all that stuff around with her from place to place.
But I don’t think I ever threw out that crane, she thought. It was just too beautiful. I couldn’t bring myself to chuck it in the trash.
She set Mr. Butters down on the bed and placed her wine on her nightstand. She pulled her phone from her robe pocket and pulled up her favorite country music station online. Then, she plugged it into some speakers, so the music swirled through the room.
Work had been stressful, and for the past few nights, she’d been on the road until almost eight. It felt nice to have the entire evening at home ahead. She approached her closet. Rows of jeans and button-up tops displayed on hangers greeted her, and she had to push past them to reach the footstool that was tucked at the very back of the closet.
With bare feet, she stepped up onto the cool metal surface. Despite the extra six inches of height, she still had to stand on her tiptoes to reach the top shelf of her closet. A few folded sweaters and jackets, some summer shoes, and a tennis racket were propped on the shelf. Behind those items, she’d tucked a few plastic bins. With the very tips of her fingers, she was able to reach the bins and pull them forward.
One by one, she took them down off the shelf and carried them to the bed. One by one, she sorted through the contents. Mr. Butters curled up on her lap, and she sipped wine as she sifted through the crumpled papers, photographs, and mementos from her past.
Finally, she spotted the blue, green, and white paper that she remembered so well.
It’s really gorgeous, she thought, as she pulled the flattened origami crane out from under a short stack of faded Polaroids.
“Just as lovely as I remembered,” she said aloud to her cat, as she held the crane up and tried to straighten its wings.
One wing was coming undone, and she noticed a little bit of black ink showing. It looked like handwriting.
“What’s that?”
She started to unfold the wing more, and more handwriting appeared. Though she was reluctant to destroy the folded crane, she was so curious about the handwriting that she ended up pulling at the folds and then smoothing the flattened paper out against her thigh. Her eyes traveled over the words.
“Delaney, will you go to the prom with me? - Derek”
A note! He wrote me a note, and I never even knew it! she thought with excitement as she scanned the words again. He asked me to prom!
A smile formed on her lips. How about that!
There was a large pillow behind her, which was propped against the wall. She leaned her weight against it.
Well, I’ll be darned… she thought dreamily.
She reached for her wine and took a sip.
Memories of that day in art class flooded her. She’d really thought that the mysterious, too-cool-for-school, handsome as heck Derek Bradshaw had tossed her the crane as an off-handed gesture, just because she happened to be around to catch it.
But he was really asking me out, she realized, now. To the prom!
At Pepper Ridge High School, senior prom was a big deal. The senior class had prepared for it for months before the actual night happened, and it was seen as a culmination of all four years of high school.
Sometimes, couples that went to prom together even ended up getting married. That almost happened to me, Delaney thought, recalling the way her life had gone after high school.