Dragonfly

by Leigh Talbert Moore

  I thought I’d made such progress. Then he walked in and all I wanted was for him to pin me against the wall. My teeth clenched, and I wished I were far away where I could smash something or scream really loudly.

  My brow was lined, and I was lost in thought when I heard Julian calling me. Great. Feelings for him would remain on hold it seemed. But as he ran closer, he reminded me of what I was doing. Julian might be an artist and dress like a post-punk rocker, but his expression was the same one I’d left in the boardroom yesterday. It was exactly how Mr. Kyser had looked when the pieces snapped together.

  What would Julian say if he knew his dad was Bill Kyser? Or that Jack was his half brother? He might be angry, and they might deny it. No, the identity of Julian’s dad was a bombshell I would never drop.

  “What’s going on under all those curls?” he laughed. “That was one serious expression.”

  “I thought I might visit your mom today,” I said, closing my locker. We walked together to the exit. “Nancy’s doing a piece on her art, and I thought maybe I could help her with it.”

  Julian shook his head. “Not a good idea. Mom quit the business way back. She never talks about it anymore.”

  “But why?” I studied his expression. “She encourages you so much. Don’t you think she misses it?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, holding the heavy metal door. “I always figured something happened in art school. I just give her space.”

  “Think she’ll talk to me?”

  He shrugged. “She’s always liked you, and after that night at the hospital, she said something about you being very sweet.”

  “Speaking of sweet,” I stopped and faced him. “Thank you for my birthday flower. That was very sweet.”

  He smiled and reached over to move one of my curls out of my face. “I hated seeing you alone on your birthday.”

  Jack might be stuck in my head, but at that moment, Julian’s arms were the ones I wanted around me. So much. Instead I exhaled, and we resumed walking.

  “So I was going to drop by and talk to your mom,” I said. “But I’ll try not to make her mad.”

  “Why bother her? I mean, she’s not painting anymore. Why start something?”

  “I won’t,” I said, thinking.

  If I could get some idea of her feelings, maybe she was as lonely as Mr. Kyser was. Maybe I could help them find their way back to each other. And maybe if that happened, together they could fix whatever had damaged Jack’s family so much. I thought of Lucy having a mother again… I thought of Julian having a dad…

  “I’ll be careful,” I said, optimism filling my chest as I climbed into my car.

  Chapter 24

  Ms. LaSalle was dressed in a filmy, knee-length sundress, and when I arrived at her store, she was carrying a huge cardboard box from the front porch inside. Several large boxes along with an assortment of smaller ones were stacked around the front entrance, which was decorated with whimsical stained-glass ornaments and wind chimes. Her long hair swished down her back as she disappeared around the corner. Everything about her and her space was breezy and beautiful. A white boardwalk led to the entrance, and I parked the car and got out just in time for her to reemerge and grab another large box.

  “Can I help you?” I asked, trotting up the walk.

  “Anna,” she smiled. “Sure, you’re just in time for Christmas delivery. It’s the big one. Half the time I can’t even remember what I’ve ordered, so lots of surprises.” She bent her knees, dropping into a squat as she heaved up a huge box. “Just carry the smaller ones. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

  I was glad I’d worn pants and a tee. We would get hot carrying boxes, even in November. “But you’re carrying the big ones.”

  “I’ve got more practice. Here.” She nodded toward a small one. “I think that has a new shipment of jewelry in it.”

  I followed her inside the store, which was divided in half. One side displayed paintings, pottery, and all sorts of art, including a nice selection of Julian’s work. The other side was woven jewelry, clothes, and souvenirs ranging from the standard sea shells to stained-glass windows and items from local collectors.

  “I love your store,” I said, placing the small box on the counter.

  “Thanks!” She lowered her box behind it. “I haven’t seen you around lately. What’s going on?”

  “Just school, work. You know. Stuff like that.”

  “You have a job?” she asked.

  “Well, it’s kind of part-job, part-school, I guess. I’m hoping to get a journalism scholarship, so I’m doing an internship at the paper in Fairview.”

  She stopped and looked at me for a second. “With Nancy Riggs?”

  “Yeah.” I picked up a small ring that was lying on the counter. She picked up a box cutter.

  “Oh, look at this,” she said pulling out a piece of Raku pottery.

  “Who did that?” I asked.

  “I have a friend who makes these. Isn’t it beautiful?”

  “Yeah, it is.” I twirled the ring in my fingers. It was glass that had been molded and shaped into a ring and it had streaks of color melted through the band. “I really like this.”

  “That came from the Hot Shop in East End Beach. The glass-blowing studio? They make some really pretty pieces over there. Have you been?”

  “No.” I waited, trying to decide how to broach the subject. “Julian never told me you were an artist.”

  “Were is the key word there,” she smiled.

  “But you still keep up with your artist friends.”

  “Well, if I can sell their pieces, I try to, but that’s all really. This Raku pottery is flying off the shelves, and I know a guy who’s been making these since we were in art school.” She laughed quietly. “I was hopeless at Raku pottery.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “I kept breaking my pots. See, you work with very high heat, and they shatter so easily. I was much better with the brush.”

  “Mom said they have some of your paintings in the old Magnolia Hotel. I haven’t seen them, but I heard you were very good.”

  “I liked to paint when I was younger. It was sort of my escape.” She slid a piece of her long, dark hair behind her shoulder. “Or my protection.”

  “I can understand that,” I said. “It’s kind of how I feel about my journal.”

  She continued pulling out plastic packages of shark teeth and woven bracelets. “I kept a journal once. I was just starting art school, and I wanted to capture all my thoughts and experiences.”

  “Do you still have it?”

  “No, I lost it a long time ago.” A brief flash of something crossed her face. “I should probably try to find it.”

  I held a package of Swarovski crystal beads to the light. “These are gorgeous.”

  “I gave a few of those to Julian for that ring he was making,” she said. “Did you like it?”

  I hadn’t worn it today. I’d decided to save it for special occasions. “It was so beautiful. Julian’s really talented. I guess he got that from you?”

  She shrugged.

  “You know, Nancy wanted to get a photographer over there to take pictures of your paintings. She really wanted to do something nice and positive about your art and how it influenced this area.”

  She shook her head. “I have nothing to say to her, and I’m not interested in dredging all that up. No one even remembers me that way now.”

  “You make it sound like it’s something bad. I think it’s neat that you were a painter and that you helped with the Phoenicians.”

  “What do you know about that?” Her suddenly sharp tone made me nervous.

  “I-I saw some old articles and pictures,” I said. “And I talked to Mr. Kyser the other day. Nancy wanted to do a piece on him also.”

  “This is what I mean.” She slapped a package on the counter. “It starts with one thing and then it goes to another.”

  I tried changing my approach. “I found a picture of you guys in hig
h school,” I said. “It was taken at Scoops. I hardly recognized the place.”

  She calmed down a little. “Things used to be so different here.”

  “That’s what Mr. Kyser said. He said you weren’t too happy about his ideas.”

  “Really.” Her eyebrow arched. “What else did he say?”

  “Not much. I wondered why you would quit painting. I can’t imagine not writing.”

  She stopped sorting and gazed out the window. “I couldn’t do it anymore after… it just turned my stomach.”

  “After…?”

  “Hey, I never told you I really appreciated you staying with me at the hospital that night,” she said. “It was sweet.”

  “I was glad to do it.”

  “I think it meant a lot to Julian, too,” she smiled at me then turned her back and continued unpacking. “You know, you can just call me Alex if you want. And don’t worry about all that ‘yes ma’am’ business.”

  “OK. But I don’t think I can call you Alex. It’s too weird.”

  “Aren’t you from up north?”

  “Indiana.”

  “So where’d all these Old South manners come from?”

  “Peer pressure,” I said, sliding the plastic baggies apart on the counter. “Actually, my mom’s from Fairview. She just moved away when she was in elementary school. So I guess it’s her fault.”

  “Listen, Anna. Ugly things happened back then. It’s best to leave the past… past.”

  I looked down, unsure of what to say. I thought of that night at the hospital and how Mr. Kyser had looked at her. Julian’s mom was so beautiful. I thought of my idea, of helping them get back together, helping Julian…

  “I think he’s still in love with you,” I said.

  She paused. “Who.”

  “Mr. Kyser. He saw your picture, and I think… well, he got up and fixed a drink.”

  “Anna. Don’t.”

  “But what about Julian?” I said. Then I jumped, biting my lip. That just slipped out.

  “What about Julian?”

  “I just meant…” I couldn’t meet her gaze. I was taking a huge risk, but maybe it could help them? My hands were shaking now. “Oh, Ms. LaSalle. You’re just so pretty, and I wish you weren’t alone.”

  “I’m alone because I choose to be.”

  “And Mr. Kyser… I always thought he was so mean, but he’s really not. He’s just so sad. I don’t think he wants to be alone either. I think he wants to be with you.”

  “Did he tell you that?”

  “No, but…” My heart was racing. “I didn’t tell him what I know.”

  “What do you know?”

  I looked down. Here goes… “That Julian’s his son.”

  She simply stared at me, but I could tell by her expression I was right. “I’m not talking about this with you or anyone else,” she said quickly.

  “But I don’t understand. Why won’t you be with him?” I followed her to the back of the shop. “I saw you at the hospital. You still love him, too.”

  “You need to go. Now. And I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t say anything to Julian about this.”

  “Of course not—I never would.” I met her eyes then, and she looked as much angry as afraid. “I just wish… I wish you would.”

  “This conversation is over,” she said.

  I nodded, backing slowly away and putting the ring on the counter again before I left. I hadn’t helped anyone, and I’d done just what I’d told Julian I wouldn’t do. I exhaled in frustration. I guessed it was time to drop the whole thing, but I just couldn’t understand being in love with someone and maintaining such a long separation.

  Couldn’t Ms. LaSalle move past whatever bad things had happened? It didn’t seem right for her to punish herself or Mr. Kyser. Or Julian for that matter. I didn’t understand, and I wished I knew why.

  Chapter 25

  The next afternoon at the paper, I decided to spend the day scanning pictures and forget the Kyser story altogether. I did not expect to be called into Mr. Waters’ office the minute I arrived. Nancy was already there, and Mr. Waters was not smiling.

  “I got a call from Bill Kyser today saying I’ve got reporters snooping into his private life,” he said. “This is a small-town paper, ladies. Guys like Bill Kyser can put us out of business.”

  Nancy spoke up. “I don’t know what he’s all fired up about, Curtis. Anna just asked him a few questions about developing the Phoenicians and the history of the area. Right, Anna?”

  They both turned to look at me. My mouth dropped open. I knew what I’d done yesterday had crossed a line, but I didn’t expect this. And I didn’t know what to say now.

  “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?” Mr. Waters demanded.

  I felt my face turning red. I couldn’t even remember what day I’d talked to Mr. Kyser, much less what I’d asked him. It seemed like we’d talked as much about my personal life as his.

  “I don’t know, Mr. Waters.” I stammered. “I just asked him about his inspiration, and I had some old pictures I gave him. Some of them had his wife and Ms. LaSalle in them.”

  Curtis Waters leaned back in his chair and chewed on his pencil. Nancy pressed her lips together and looked down at the carpet. After a few moments of silence he spoke.

  “Sounds like somebody touched a nerve. Only two times people call a paper: when they’re in the wrong and they’re scared we’ll print it, or when we’ve made a mistake and printed something wrong. And we haven’t printed anything yet.”

  He rocked in his chair a few times. “So what do you think, Anna?”

  My eyes widened. “About what?”

  “Think he’s hiding something? Something that matters?”

  “I don’t know,” I lied.

  “Well, what’s he so upset about?” Mr. Waters growled. “You not talking because you’re dating that little Kyser? What’s it, John? Jack?”

  “Jack,” I said. “No, sir. We’re not dating.”

  He sat forward. “So tell me what you know. You must’ve uncovered something when you talked to Bill or he wouldn’t be calling me to try and put a lid on it.”

  “I really don’t know. I mean, I don’t have anything definite, and I promised I wouldn’t say anything,” I rambled.

  “Promised who? Kyser?”

  I looked up at him for the first time since our meeting began. “Mr. Waters, I can’t tell you anything else about it.”

  Silence again. Then he nodded.

  “All right,” he snapped. “But your job in this office is to assist in the newsroom. If you want to go off and play Miss Investigative Reporter, that’s fine. Good luck to you. But when you start pestering the most powerful man in town and don’t let your editor and publisher in on it, I can’t cover your ass.”

  I looked down again. I will not cry. “Yes, sir.”

  Nancy tried to rescue me. “Curtis, I think Anna might have gotten a little excited about some of the archive materials. Some of the old pictures with Kyser and Alex LaSalle.”

  Mr. Waters thought a few moments. “What’s so exciting about that? Everybody knows those two worked together. Why would that warrant an angry call?”

  He paused again, then without looking at me, he said, “Monitor it, Nan, and if you uncover anything, let me know. And if this student intern thing isn’t working out, well, let me know about that too.”

  He swiveled his chair around and we were dismissed.

  We crossed the newsroom in silence. My insides were like Jell-O, and I wanted to cry at the thought he might fire me. I loved my job here. I needed it for college, and for now, it was all I had keeping me going. When we reached Nancy’s office, she pulled me inside.

  “What did you do?” she said quietly.

  “Nothing!” I tried to keep calm. I wasn’t fired yet.

  “You did something,” Nancy insisted.

  I closed my eyes and inhaled. “I went to see Ms. LaSalle yesterday. I thought I could casually talk to her about her
art and stuff and maybe help you.”

  “And?”

  “I’m not sure exactly how it happened, but we got on the subject of Mr. Kyser, and I might’ve said something about him being in love with her.”

  Nancy stood and shut her door. “Did he tell you that?”

  “No, but it’s so obvious.”

  “Obvious in what way?” She sat behind her desk, and the look on her face boosted my confidence.

  I scooted forward in my chair. “Remember when Brad and Julian were in that accident, and Julian was in the hospital?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Nancy nodded. “The quarterback miraculously escaped without a scratch.”

  “But Julian didn’t. He lost consciousness and had to stay overnight. I was there, and at one point, so was Bill Kyser. And I walked in on them. He was holding Ms. LaSalle in his arms, and I heard him say something about letting him take care of this. Like he was talking about the bills.”

  “The bills?” Nancy frowned. “What could that mean?”

  “I don’t know, but it must mean something.”

  We were quiet for a second.

  “Just watch it,” Nancy said. “I like you, Anna. You’ve been a big help to me, and I’d hate to lose you over this.”

  I nodded and left Nancy’s office. My fear had slowly turned into anger. I replayed the scene in my head, and I couldn’t remember asking a single personal question when I was in Mr. Kyser’s office. I couldn’t believe he’d call and get me in trouble like that. Getting fired from my one internship would kill my scholarship dreams, and there would be no way I could list it on my transcript. I wanted to go over and confront him about it, and the more I thought about it, the more determined I became.

  I left Nancy a note saying I had to run an errand and drove to the Phoenician offices. Stepping off the elevator, I stopped again at the receptionist’s desk.

  “I was hoping I could catch Mr. Kyser,” I said. “It’s Anna Sanders from the paper again?”

  “He’s already gone for the day, Miss Sanders,” the lady smiled.

  “Was he going home?”