by Lacey Silks
Right in Front of You
A Friends to Lovers Romance
Lacey Silks
MyLit Publishing
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue
Afterword
Also by Lacey Silks
About the Author
This and That
Copyright © 2017 by Lacey Silks
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ISBN: 978-1-927715-46-8
To your rainy days — may they all be filled with sunshine.
… and hope.
CARTER, AGE 8
Puddles are nothing but giant scary holes. My mother always warned me not to take the plunge because no one knew if the hole underneath the puddle was dug all the way down to hell. And so I never jumped into puddles. But I wouldn’t tell my friends why, no matter how much fun they made of me. I avoided the round mirrors of muddy water like the plague; I didn’t actually know what that meant, but I heard my mother say it often enough. It wasn’t until the first day of grade two, as we stood underneath the awning of Mr. Grafton’s convenience store, waiting for the rain to pass so that we could continue walking home, that Molly Fowler took my hand and pulled me out into the downpour. Our friends, who looked nice and dry, stayed close to the wall, enjoying the feeling of an afternoon sugar rush. Their mouths were full of Twizzlers and sour keys. Mr. Grafton always gave away free candy on the first day of school.
“You guys are crazy!” Nick yelled out.
“Come on, join us!” Molly screamed over the rain. It was pouring cats and dogs. Again, this was something my mother always said when it rained, and each time I looked up into the sky, there weren’t any cats or dogs – only big blobs of water, and one just hit me dead center of my eye. Why had she pulled me out into the rain again?
“My dress is already messed up,” Daisy complained, holding the hem of her dress tight in her fists as she tried to wring out the water that had soaked its bottom. Jo was busy showing Nick how the sour key fit on the tip of her tongue, and Andrew ripped a piece of Daisy’s Twizzler off and stuffed it into his mouth before she got a chance to finish with her dress.
“That’s rude!” She hit him on his arm, and as they started their bickering, my attention went back to Molly. Her head was lifted up, face toward the clouds, being washed by the rain. She had the most beautiful smile that day, which made the gray skies above us forgettable.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Enjoying this beautiful weather.”
“But it’s raining.”
“So? It’s still beautiful. Look at the way the raindrops change the way we look. Isn’t that amazing?”
Amazing?
I was wet, that’s all. Still, I couldn’t help but stare at how much she was enjoying this melancholy weather. Molly pursed her lips, and some water sprayed out from between them. As the rain fell, it carried the drops through the strands of her hair, straightening her brown curls and pasting them onto her face. Yet she kept on smiling, forcing my mouth to curve up as well.
And so I mimicked her and lifted my face to the sky. It was almost like taking an outdoor shower. The drops were cool at first, but warmed as they dripped down my face. Molly was right. Getting rained on did feel sort of nice; being soaked wasn’t as bad as we’d been taught to believe, and I never would have experienced the comfort of a rainy day the way she did if I hadn’t stepped out from underneath the storefront’s awning. My mother wouldn’t agree when she saw my soaked jeans, and so I promised myself to one day take her out into the rain to show her what Molly had shown me. This would definitely be one of the most memorable first days of school ever.
Molly’s eyes got wide at one point as she flew past me and stared at a puddle in front of us. Her toes touched the rim of the puddle. She wiggled them inside her sandals just as I stepped beside her. Molly grabbed my hand and squeezed it.
“Come on, Carter. You have to jump in one.”
I resisted the pull, keeping far away from the hole that could have led straight to hell. Still holding Molly’s hand, but standing way behind her, I said, “I’m going to be soaked.”
“We’re soaked already.” She tugged on my hand again and then lowered her voice. “Come on, just do it. It’ll be fun.”
“What if it’s deep?” Was I sounding like a wuss? Probably. But Molly didn’t seem to care, and it was raining so hard that we could barely hear our friends by the store.
“Are you kidding? Look!” Not loosening her grip on me, she jumped in as if she were Mary Poppins trying to hop into one of Bert’s chalk drawings. Molly was standing at ankle depth, grinning. I guessed that puddle wasn’t one of the ones my mother had warned me about. Though Molly didn’t disappear like Mary Poppins, the moment was still magical, and so I took the plunge into the murky water.
Molly laughed.
“My shoes are soaked now,” I complained.
“They would have been soaked anyway from walking. This way at least you had fun. And we made the best out of this beautiful day.” She smiled.
Molly’s positive attitude never ceased to amaze me. When I held her hand, it felt like nothing around us mattered. And I never let it go, either. No way. What if that one special puddle was waiting to suck me in? But I kept that little secret to myself. That day we jumped into all the puddles we could find, and once we ran out of them, the spellbinding moment had been trapped in the past. Still, I’d never forget the way Molly had managed to turn the miserable day into a fun afternoon. It wasn’t until we stopped and I found myself out of breath that I understood what Molly was talking about when she said it was a beautiful day. Molly could make any day beautiful, because she chose to. And that made her beautiful in my eyes. From that day on, rainy days were some of my favorite ones.
MOLLY, AGE 10
Dancing feet. Dozens of them.
That was my view of tonight’s Fall Fest as I sat underneath the table. Atop, rows of freshly baked apple pies cooled, releasing their saucy-sweet aroma. I’d crawled under here because I liked watching the adult feet move across the dance floor. How did they know where to take the next step, and how to spare their toes from pain?
There were red shoes and orange shoes. The purple ones were Mrs. Gladstone’s. They had a small broomstick attached at the heel, even though Mrs. Gladstone wasn’t a witch. The shiny black shoes were Doctor Burke’s, although I didn’t know what he was doing dancing with my mother. Hers had sunflowers at the toes. The tablecloth lifted at one end and Carter crawled underneath, joining me in my hiding spot.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Watching dancing shoes,” I said.
“Do you want some apple pie?”
“Sure.”
I liked that Carter never looked down upon my odd behavior. I knew that others did, but not Carter. I just liked to stay out of the way and out of view. It felt safer that way. He sat down beside me with one plate, two forks, and a slab of apple pie. That meant the parents were having too much fun to notice their kids cutting chunks out of the dessert and helping themselves. Fall Fest, with all the pie cutting, dancing, and kids frolicking without a care, had been a tradition in Hope Bay ever since I could remember. And since I could only recall about six years back of my ten-year life, which was more than half… well, let’s just say that it had been a long time of us eating slabs of delicious apple pie.
“Why do you stay here every year?” he asked. “Everyone else is dancing. So should you.”
“Because it’s quiet.”
Carter looked at me funny as the music from our local band blasted on the other side of the tablecloth.
“I can concentrate better,” I tried explaining.
“What does that mean?” he asked.
“Why do you have so many questions?”
“Because you’re interesting.”
“Hmm, well, if you must know, I like watching people. You can tell a lot about a person by the way they dance. Like Mrs. Sanders. She’s heavier on her feet, but that’s because she’s pregnant, so she can’t move as fast. Her steps are very cautious. Or Mr. James – look at the way he’s hopping now. It’s because he’s lost all that weight. Oh” – I pointed toward the red shoes – “Look at the bounce in Mr. Grafton’s steps. Halloween is his favorite time of year because he gets to scare all the kids at his haunted house.”
“Doctor Burke’s shoes look very close to your mother’s.” Carter was so focused on reading the behavior of dancing feet that funny horizontal lines formed on his forehead and he looked like my grandfather on my mother’s side, God rest his soul.
I followed his gaze to the dance floor. My mother had been dancing with the doctor the entire night. I haven’t seen her this happy in a long time, but father being away for a week, working, must have contributed to her good mood. She never smiled as much when he was around.
“I know. They love to dance together. They always have.”
“Your father doesn’t like to dance?”
“He’s out of town. I don’t think Doctor Burke would be dancing with my mother if Father was here.” And that was an understatement. Once when I was little, Father became jealous when I was sick and mom took me to see Doctor Burke. Father punched him. From then on, when I fell ill, unless I could find a way to sneak to the town’s clinic behind his back, I was left to fend for myself with home remedies. That’s how I learned about the benefits of ginger, honey, and lemon.
“So they don’t like each other?” he asked.
“I guess not.”
The music stopped and so did the dancing. Before parting, I saw Doctor Burke’s right foot in between my mother’s. She stepped up on her tiptoes. I wondered if she was whispering something in his ear. They did a lot of whispering when they were together. Outside, a bang of thunder vibrated through the air.
“Do you want to dance, Molly?”
“No, I’m clumsy on my feet. I’ll get blisters in five minutes and also crush your toes.”
“So?”
“You don’t like your toes?”
He laughed and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for my answer.
“Oh, you’re serious, then. I’m giving you an easy way out of here, Carter. You should definitely go dance. There’s no need to feel sorry for me because I’m sitting under the table. I like it here.”
“I’m not feeling sorry for you. In fact, this will be my favorite spot from now on. And I’m not sure if you know, but friends don’t accept any kinds of outs.”
“I don’t know. Who would I dance with?”
“Today you can dance with me. And if I’m not here, you should dance by yourself. Dancing is fun. Come, let me show you.”
He took my hand, and I had no choice but to leave my secret hiding spot. The music started again and Carter was moving his limbs like a monkey. I laughed until my belly hurt. There was something funny about a boy who danced as if no one was watching. He didn’t even care that others were pointing at him, chuckling. When he took my hand and we started whipping our bodies around, I forgot about anyone watching us as well. Even a few adults joined in. On the next song, our friends twirled and jumped with us, and no one was pointing fingers any longer. Carter had a way of bringing everyone together. I’d never met a boy whose personality and outlook on life was so contagious.
Once we tired and more adults took over the dance floor, I pulled on Carter’s hand to get away from the crowd. “Come, I want to show you something.”
We stepped outside the abandoned barn that had always served as the Fall Fest venue. The night was warm, with a gentle breeze whistling between the trees every few minutes. I tilted my head up.
“What?” he asked.
“Look at the clouds there.” Strings of lightning bolts cruised across the sky in the distance, followed by a loud clash a few seconds later. Their continuous sparks created an electrical spider web, and the puffed clouds were illuminated from behind.
“It’s beautiful. It’s like magic is being created right up in the skies,” he said.
The first raindrops fell, but we didn’t move. I lifted my face up to the sky to feel each drop of rain splatter over my skin. Moments like these, away from home, in peace, were priceless. A loud shriek of happiness drew my attention back toward the dance floor.
“Looks like Daisy is having fun,” I said.
“Yeah, she’s definitely something.” He looked at her for a moment longer, but then turned back to me with more interest. My heart warmed, and I got a nervous feeling in my stomach, one I’d never felt before.
“Do you like her?” I asked.
He reached up and pulled his fingers through his hair, the way I’d seen his older brother Maxwell do. The gesture shaped deep grooves in his hair, and it looked nice. I wished I could style my hair with the pull of my fingers, but my curls would get stuck in between.
“Ahm, I do, but I also like you.”
“You should take her out on a date.”
“I dunno. What if I want to take someone else out on a date?”
“Who?”
“You.”
What? No, that couldn’t happen. Dating a boy would bring too much attention from Father, and the last thing I wanted was to be on his radar. I’d ducked enough times to avoid him, and I wasn’t about to put a bull’s eye on my back again. Besides, we were only ten, and dating was out of the question. I shouldn’t have even asked.
“You can’t. I can’t. There’s no way Father would ever let me.”
“I could ask him.”
“Carter, we’re ten. We’re not supposed to date.”
“You brought it up. Besides, Nick and Jo are dating.”
“They told you that?”
“No, but they’re always together.”
“They’re best friends, the same way we are.”
“You think your father would disapprove?” he asked.
“Disapproval is the least of my worries. I can’t date now, and I won’t date in the future. Dating is not even an option until I’m… thirty, I think.”
“You sound way too mature for your age. I just thought we could have ice cream together, or maybe hold hands?”
“Carter, I can hold your hand when we’re together, but promise me you’ll never ask me out again. Please,” I begged. “Promise me. I need a friend, not a boyfriend.”
I wish I had known at the time that I could have both. I wish I hadn’t carried the silly belief of boyfriends and friends being a separate thing into my young adult life, but that was the lesson I’d been taught: avoid boys.
C
arter stuck out his hand, extending his pinkie my way. “I pinkie swear, Molly. I will always be your friend.”
I reached mine out and hooked it with his.
Carter Clark always knew how to put a smile on my face.
CARTER, AGE 12
She had tears in her eyes, but they weren’t made of water; they were made of fear. Fear and helplessness.
“Come on, Molly,” I whispered, reaching down from the window to grab her hand so I could pull her up.
“He’s going to kill me.” Her eyes were wide open, ready to pop out.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. Hurry, we’re almost there.” With one strong haul, I helped her up to her room. She climbed through the window and I closed it shut.
“Did he hear us?” She focused on the door to her bedroom. Molly was holding her breath, as if somehow a monster from her darkest nightmares would break through.
“I don’t think so.”
“Thanks, Carter. I wouldn’t have made it back without you. I knew I should have left the lake earlier.”
Molly had been sobbing the whole way we jogged to her house. Since I was a faster runner than Nick, who was too smitten with Joelle at the moment, I’d joined Molly. Boy, could that girl ever run when she needed to! Even though I was a few months older than she was, I could barely keep up. But I guess that’s what happens when despair and dread are chasing you – you run like you’re being chased by a pride of lions. Not that I’d ever seen a lion run in real life, but I had on television, and they were fast.
“No problem. That’s what friends are for. Well, I should get going. I don’t want to get you in any more trouble, and if your father sees me here, I may never walk again.” While I was trying to make light of the situation, we both knew that there was more truth to my words than I was willing to admit. The sooner she was safe in her room, on her own, the better. Maybe if her parents weren’t so strict, her summertime eight o’clock curfew could have been extended. It was only a quarter after, but knowing we wouldn’t make it back to her house on time, the girl had been anxious for the past half hour since we’d left the lake. We’d been having so much fun that we’d lost track of time. The only option was to walk her home through the forest behind the back yard and help her up through the window.