by Tina Michele
Carson wandered around one of Kelli’s works in progress. Her current labor was being spent on a clay maquette of what was to become another colossal and breathtaking marble sculpture. The finished piece would be three times bigger than the model was. It was still incomplete, but Carson would bet that Kelli would have a handful of buyers eager to buy it even in its unfinished state. The image was of a young woman. Her frozen, distant gaze expressed sadness, and her flowing hair was suspended in motion around her innocent face. “What is this piece called?” she asked Kelli as she leaned in to get a closer look at the details in the clay.
“I don’t know yet. Why?” Kelli strode over to the worktable where Carson stood.
“No reason. She looks so sad. Is she waiting for someone?” Carson saw a story written on the girl’s face. At first glance it could have been one of sadness and loss, but beyond the hurt she could see the hope and longing in her eyes. A ping of emptiness echoed in her chest as the emotions that emanated from the statue pierced through her.
“I think so. By the look in your eyes, she isn’t the only one.”
Carson could have anyone anytime she wanted them. She was taken aback by the sentiment she drew from the inanimate object. But Carson knew she would never waste her time waiting around yearning for someone like that. She had to commend Kelli on her talent, because she had almost confused the sculpture’s sentiments with her own. “Then let’s get ’em on the truck, shall we?” Carson trotted off toward the forklift to get the pieces loaded onto the moving truck.
*
Bree wandered in and out of the little shops and stores in the historic Biltmore Village. The neighborhood consisted of specialty establishments that sold things like one-of-a-kind custom jewelry, organic bath products, and collectible Christmas gifts. Bree always enjoyed weaving through the little boutiques, but it was the history of the buildings that interested her most. In addition to a massive chateau, George Vanderbilt had also constructed an entire town to house his estate employees and established recurring revenue for his self-sustained vision of Biltmore.
Bree picked up a local visitor paper and noticed several advertisements for the River Arts District, or RAD. The Asheville RAD was a developing art community on the other side of the French Broad River in an area once known for its vacant and derelict warehouse buildings. It had been adopted by local artists in an attempt to redevelop the area and establish a prominent and successful destination for artists and art lovers. Bree was intrigued. She decided to make her way across the river to see what there was to see. She was excited to visit the many working studios and on-site artist galleries housed in one area.
At first glance, Bree wasn’t sure she was in the right place. However, once she realized that many of the studio fronts were simple in appearance, she noticed all the open overhead doors that exposed a variety of potential discoveries. Bree studied the map that marked the many studios in the area and found a public parking lot in a relatively central location. The weather was perfect for walking, and she didn’t mind a little exercise, plus the happy sky with its cheerful white clouds begged for her company.
Bree was impressed by the life that emerged as soon as she had begun to walk along the street. “Open” signs and flags seemed to appear out of nowhere, as did a good number of people. She hadn’t seen or noticed the liveliness or the activity when she drove into the area. It was almost magical. Visitors and artists mingled on the sidewalks and in the cafés and restaurants that dotted the thoroughfare. Bree meandered into the first building—a pottery studio and gallery. A potter hunched over a kick wheel as she threw a large urn-shaped vessel. The artist described her techniques to the handful of onlookers that circled around her. Like the group of people, Bree was mesmerized by the skill and ease of the potter’s movements. Bree had attempted ceramics in college, and while she was proud of her pieces, she had never gotten the hang of the fluidity required for the art. She had made a couple of charming coil pots that her uncle displayed with pride and used as pen cups on his office desk. On her way out, Bree saw a sign that offered lessons and made a mental note to look into that for her spare time. The spare time that was about to increase now that the job in the preservation department was no longer on the table, thanks to Carson Harper.
Bree cursed at the thoughts of Carson during what had turned out to be a wonderful day. She forced herself to push the images of her from her head and continued on to the next studio on her map. The next building was a co-op of six artists housed in a bright multicolored building that was art in itself. Just from the look of the building Bree was excited to go inside. She knew there was no way she would get to all the studios with the time she had left in the day. The thought disappointed her, but she now had an excuse to return and spend even more time in the area on another day. Bree strolled in and out of the workshop spaces within the refurbished warehouse.
She looked at her watch and determined that she would have enough time for an iced coffee and one more studio before things started to close for the day. She ordered a coffee beverage and strolled along the sidewalk while she looked at her map. It pained her to walk by several other galleries as she searched for one in particular farther down the road. Bree looked around for the warehouse that should have been right in front of her. She saw a large moving truck but not much else. Not even a sign that indicated that she was getting close. She looked back at her map and sipped on her drink when she heard someone scream.
Bree looked up from her map just as something slammed into her and knocked her to the ground. The last thing she remembered was the slender red-haired woman who leapt toward her and a burst of warm liquid on her face before everything went dark.
Chapter Eight
Carson struggled to wrap her head around what had happened. She had just loaded the last crate onto the flatbed trailer and rounded the front of the truck when she heard Kelli scream. By the time Carson saw what Kelli shouted for she’d had barely enough time to hit the brakes. Had she waited another second to stop she wouldn’t have been able to avoid hitting both Kelli and the woman she’d pushed out of the way. Carson watched in shock as Kelli tackled the woman and they both tumbled to the ground. She flinched when the stranger’s head impacted the sidewalk. When she realized that Kelli moved, Carson dismounted the forklift and rushed over to them. Kelli crouched next to the unconscious woman and attempted to sit her up. Carson stopped her in case she had injured her neck when her head slammed into the ground. Carson checked the woman’s pulse and was relieved when she felt a strong, steady beat.
Carson lay down next to the woman and whispered into her ear. She touched the strands of curly wet hair that were stuck across the woman’s face. For a moment Carson feared the fluid might have been blood, but she was thankful when she detected the scent of coffee. As she moved the strands of hair from the woman’s face, she gasped. “Oh, fuck.”
“What? Fuck what?” Kelli said from somewhere close to Carson’s shoulder. “Is she…Oh my God, she isn’t…dead, is she? Oh my God.”
Carson looked back toward Kelli, who had all but crawled onto Carson’s side as she lay on the ground. “What? No. She isn’t dead.”
“Then what?” Kelli leaned in even closer.
“Kelli, back up. Go get me some water.” Carson literally needed to get Kelli off her back so she could figure out what in the world she was going to do.
“Okay. Water. On it,” Kelli said as she sprinted into the building.
Carson smoothed the hair off Bree’s face as she whispered her name. “Hey. It’s Carson. You’ve hit your head. If you can hear me, can you open your eyes for me?” Carson murmured to her. “Bree?”
Kelli came back at a run with a glass of water and stopped when she saw that Bree was still on the ground. “Carson, we need to call an ambulance. She should be awake.”
“I know. My phone. Where’s my phone?” she asked as she patted her shirt pockets.
Kelli reached into Carson’s back pocket for her cell phone. “Here.�
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As Carson started to dial the emergency number, she heard Bree moan next to her. Carson paused momentarily to listen before she completed the call. “Bree? We’re calling an ambulance. Don’t move.”
Bree moved her hand to the back of her head and pulled back blood-covered fingers. “Ouch. What the hell?” she said as she looked at her hand, more than a bit confused.
“Oh, damn. Okay,” Carson said as she hit the send button on her phone. “Kelli, grab those paper towels on the lift. Okay, now come down here and put them on the back of her head.” As Carson and Kelli switched places, she said, “Don’t let her get up.”
Carson paced along the sidewalk as she described the situation to the dispatcher. She kept her eyes on them and watched as Kelli kept Bree conscious and calm until the paramedics could get there. She got off the phone with the operator and dialed Jim’s number.
“Hey, Car. What’s up, kiddo?” Jim said on the other line.
“Jim, it’s Bree. She’s had an accident. She’s okay. The ambulance is on its way,” Carson blurted out at him.
“What are you talking about? What happened? Where are you?”
“At my warehouse. Kelli’s here. We were moving crates onto the truck. She hit her head. I tried not to hit her.”
“Okay. Is she okay?” Jim was frantic.
“Yes. She’s with Kelli. We’re keeping her still until they get here.”
“Okay, I’m on my way,” he said as he hung up.
Carson heard Kelli tell Bree she didn’t think it was a good idea as she walked back toward them. By the time she made it back to them, Kelli had helped Bree sit up to lean against the wall. Bree looked down at her shirt, which was covered in a large drying coffee stain. Carson couldn’t help but think about how beautiful she looked even covered in dirt, blood, and coffee. Her heart tightened in her chest when it dawned on her that she’d almost run over Jim’s niece.
Carson might have thought it a little sweet destiny had it not resulted in her nearly killing Bree with a forklift. It seemed to her that the two of them were destined to make each other’s lives more interesting, or at least more dramatic. Carson could have stood for hours and stared at her, until a disheveled Bree looked up and saw Carson.
Bree’s expression changed from confusion to recognition. She glanced between Carson, Kelli, and the forklift. Her expression changed to something that Carson thought resembled surprise or maybe disbelief. When Bree spoke, Carson’s stomach rose into her throat.
“Did you almost run me over with that thing?” Bree flinched from pain as she moved her head in the direction of the forklift.
“Not exactly,” Carson’s response was vague. In the distance, the sound of sirens broke the tension that materialized between them. She was thankful, in a way.
Carson turned toward the sound of the sirens and saw Jim as he ran up the sidewalk. She couldn’t help but wonder if he had flown there. She walked toward him, and he slowed to a brisk walk that forced her to turn and walk with him as he passed. “She’s okay. She’s sitting up.”
“Breezy. Hey, sweetheart, are you okay?” Jim stooped next to her and checked her for cuts and scrapes. Carson imagined he had done the same thing many times before when Bree was a child. As Bree and Jim talked, he looked at the wound on the back of her head and flinched. He was just about finished giving her a good parental once-over when the paramedics arrived and forced him to step back so she could be evaluated.
He turned toward Carson. “What the hell happened, Carson?”
Before Carson could answer, Bree shouted, “She tried to run me over with that damn forklift. That’s what happened.” Both Carson’s and Jim’s heads snapped around to Bree, who glared at her from between the two EMTs.
*
Bree’s head throbbed as the paramedics probed the back of her head where it had slammed into the ground. Bree refused to allow Carson to blame the situation on her in any way. She had already witnessed the way Carson twisted the details and forced the blame onto someone else before she heard the other person out. Jim and Carson stared at Bree. His expression was one of concern and interest, whereas Carson’s was just as Bree would have expected, disbelief and denial.
“Um, she did what?” Jim looked back and forth between them. “Bree?” He waved a hand through the space between them.
Bree turned her attention to her uncle. As she started to repeat herself, Carson interrupted.
“Okay, wait a second. I certainly did not try to run you over, thank you very much. Although if Kelli hadn’t pushed you out of the way I very well might have, but I did not try.”
“Oh, right. Like you didn’t see me on the sidewalk as you sped around on that thing without a bit of concern about anyone that could be around?” Bree flailed her arm for emphasis, but the EMT asked her to remain still, so she lowered her arm back down to her side.
“And what? You didn’t see or hear a ten-thousand-pound forklift or the woman screaming at you?” Carson was agitated by Bree’s accusations. “Kelli, can you help me out here?” Carson waved her over.
“Ma’am, we need to take your vitals and will need you to relax and be still for a moment,” the male technician said.
Bree ignored him. “By all means, Kelli, please enlighten Ms. Harper as to what precisely happened.” Something in Bree was further irritated when she thought that Kelli was Carson’s girlfriend.
“Well, um, Carson was loading the last crate and was coming back around to bring the lift into the shop when I saw, Ms…um…” Kelli pointed at Bree.
“Whitley,” both Bree and Carson said.
Kelli looked at them and then continued, “Right…Ms. Whitley, coming up the sidewalk. She was looking at a map, and I hollered at her, trying to get her attention. I don’t think she heard me because she, you…” Kelli addressed Bree. “You kept walking, kind of oblivious. When you didn’t stop, I ran toward you yelling, but by then I had no choice but to push you out of the way. I’m sorry,” Kelli said with sincerity.
Bree listened and absorbed what Kelli had said until Carson spoke. “See. I think I’m due an apology. As a matter of fact, maybe even a thank you, since I technically saved your life.”
“What? Are you serious?” Bree couldn’t believe Carson played the I saved your life card. “You almost ran me over with a five-ton forklift, and since you stopped in time and called nine-one-one, you ‘saved my life’? You are unbelievable.” The paramedics pulled the stretcher to her side and helped her onto it.
“No. I checked your pulse, too.”
Bree almost wanted to laugh at the way Carson had said it. If Bree hadn’t been both pained and furious, she might have found Carson’s innocent statement adorable. Coincidentally, Bree was now concerned about her appearance in front of Carson and her girlfriend. Before they strapped her onto the stretcher, she struggled to straighten her coffee-stained shirt and tame her wet and bloody mess of hair. When she realized she had primped herself for Carson, her fury returned, but for a very different reason; she was attracted to the egotistical, self-righteous, presumptuous woman, Carson Harper.
“Well, thank goodness for your Girl Scout honor, huh?”
“Wow. Maybe I should have just run you over,” Carson mumbled.
“Excuse me?” Bree sat up on the stretcher and demanded that they stop before they put her in the vehicle. “Stop.”
Everyone stood frozen, including the emergency response workers, afraid to move and detonate the bomb that had just been placed between them. All eyes were on Bree as they waited for her to speak, but it was Carson who did. Everyone’s head snapped around at the sound of Carson’s unexpected interjection.
“I said, maybe I should have run you over. Why are you so nasty? I didn’t try to run you over, and as soon as it happened I was on the ground next to you, before and after I realized who you were. I called your uncle. I called nine-one-one. I checked your pulse and prepared to do CPR if I needed to. I brushed your hair out of your face and had Kelli get you water. I do
n’t know why you’re so damn mad at me for being nice and helping you. If it’s about the other day, I’m sorry. I was having a bad day. I was out of line.” Carson didn’t wait for Bree to respond before she turned and disappeared into the building behind them.
Bree sat in silence on the stretcher and stared at Carson’s retreating figure when her uncle approached her side. “Hey, kiddo. Let’s go. I’m sure your head has got to be pounding, huh?” Bree knew he was trying to ease the tension, which was thick and hovered heavy in the air. It didn’t help, but she appreciated it nonetheless.
Both she and her uncle were loaded into the back of the ambulance for the silent trip to the hospital. She felt fine, except for the ache in her head and the one in her gut. If she had thought there was any chance that she and Carson would be friends, she guessed it was all but hopeless now. Bree saw the disappointment on her uncle’s face as they drove away from the studio.
Chapter Nine
Carson hated the tension that had developed between her and Jim. They’d always spent countless hours talking, joking, or nagging each other, yet, for two weeks, there had been a significant decline in their easy banter. Even so, they still spent a majority of their free time and breaks together. The biggest difference was that where there had once been an easy interaction, there was now awkward silence. It distressed Carson. She knew the reason for the change. What she didn’t know was how to address it. The last thing in the world she wanted to do was hurt Jim any more than he already had been.