by PJ Sharon
Brinn usually left just before dawn, giving the illusion that the General Store had been visited by elves overnight, the shelves fully stocked and the floors cleaned to perfection. Windows gleamed, and Mr. Hoffman delighted in Brinn's creative arrangements consisting of pyramidal stacks of cans at the end of each aisle, or the vase of wildflowers that graced the front counter and lilies that scented the room.
At first, he didn’t seem to understand her refusal of money or her insistence that she work at night so that she might remain unseen by customers. But after several incidents of kids teasing her about her limited and ill-fitting wardrobe, and adults gawking at her as if she were a misfit toy or a dirty old boot, he did whatever he could to help her avoid customers as much as possible. He made excuses when they would ask about her, and told people that she was his grandniece on his sister’s side. That seemed to satisfy the busybodies and the local sheriff who seemed curious, but otherwise disinterested in a grubby teenager with hair hanging in her eyes and a mistrusting scowl on her face. Eventually people stopped asking. Brinn decided early on that it was best to keep out of sight.
It took some fast talking, but Brinn convinced Mr. Hoffman that she had a home in the hills, that she was safe, and that she wasn’t completely alone. She was adamant that she could take care of herself. He seemed satisfied when she said that someone named Kitty looked after her and he shouldn’t worry.
To ensure his cooperation with keeping her private life secret, she convinced him that if he reported her, she would be hauled off and given to one of those foster families, if she wasn’t left in some godforsaken orphanage—a plight he assured her he would have no part in bringing about. Once she convinced him that she would have no choice but to run away and never come back again if they tried to take her, he agreed to respect her privacy. Fred Hoffman was a man of substance—someone who valued trust and integrity—a man Brinn had come to care deeply for and trust with her life.
The wooden screen door squeaked as she slipped into the storeroom. Tonight, Brinn had a specific reason for her visit. Justin had only been gone a day but the emptiness he left behind ached like hunger, and she missed him already. That awareness had her emotions spinning. She shook her head as she recalled her response to his offer of the gift of a chain with a little oval medal hanging on it. She’d reacted badly and regretted it, but she couldn’t help it. The thought of wearing any kind of chain around her neck made her skin crawl and her throat tighten. He said it was meant to offer protection. She found that impossible to believe. Chains were not for protection.
Her shoulders relaxed as she closed and locked the door behind her. Mr. Hoffman’s General Store was a sanctuary away from her mountains—a place she could go to feel the warm cloak of a trusted friendship. To the rest of the world, Mr. Hoffman was an old codger. To her, he was family. Nothing as inconsequential as grumpiness would deter her from being his friend.
Besides, she needed to know if Justin made it home safely, and just as importantly, if he’d kept her secret. She called out to see if Mr. Hoffman was still there. If he thought she was coming, he might have stayed late.
"Are you here, Mr. Hoffman?"
A shuffling of feet followed by a bellow from the other room sounded in acknowledgement. "Hello, Brinn!" He rounded the corner, a box of canned dog food weighing heavily in his arms. Brinn grabbed the box, relieving the huffing man of his burden. He leaned on the counter to catch his breath. She considered the possibility of coming into town to help him more often. Chores like this wore on him and made him seem frail.
"Thanks, young lady." He smiled his crooked smile, false teeth filling his mouth awkwardly, making his baggy cheeks slightly rounder.
Brinn set the box down on the counter. "I'll take care of stocking the shelves, but would you mind if I watched something on your television first?" She asked shyly, knowing how he felt about television being a waste of precious reading time.
Bushy eyebrows shot up and a frown spread across his ruddy face. "You've never wanted to watch TV before. What's going on? You're not planning on watching one of those violent police shows or ridiculous reality series, are you? The kids today are rotting their minds with that crap.”
Brinn grinned. "I need to see a news program."
“Nothing but bad news on TV. I’ll start watching and reading the news when they start reporting the good stuff.”
She wanted to tell Mr. Hoffman all about Justin but she was wary about how much to say. Her eyes dropped to the floor and she chewed her lip. "I need to find out about a hiker that was rescued yesterday."
"Humph." He raised one unruly gray brow. Tugging on his red suspenders, he turned on the television, tuning it to the local station. "Let's see if the ten o'clock news has anything to say about your lost hiker." Mr. Hoffman always relented. He gave her the impression that he would pull the moon from the sky for her if he could. She couldn’t recall a time he’d denied her anything, despite his crusty exterior.
A few minutes after the local weather report concluded, Brinn shouted at the TV screen and pointed, "That's him!"
Justin was coming out of a hospital, giving clipped answers to the microphones being shoved in his face by a throng of reporters. He looked tired and somewhat flustered by the attention. Brinn noticed his dimpled smile and big brown eyes.
"He looks good," she said in a dreamy voice. Catching Mr. Hoffman's curious glance, she added. "I mean, he looks...healthy...safe. I'm glad he made it down the mountain, that's all."
The two stood in silence, listening to Justin's account of his ordeal. He didn’t once mention his encounter with Brinn. She breathed a sigh of relief. For now at least, Justin had kept his promise not to tell anyone about her. Maybe he really was someone she could trust. He had been so kind to her during their time together in the cabin.
Whenever she thought about his arms around her, her chest grew tight with longing. He explained to her that not all promises were bad. He’d said some promises had good outcomes and that it was the person making the promise that made it good or bad. He’d made a pact with her that he would only promise her good things and she had promised to try to trust him. They’d shaken hands on it in agreement, a custom she’d seen from a distance but never experienced. The warm steadiness of his hand in hers lingered long after he’d let go.
Brinn felt Mr. Hoffman’s eyes on her. She turned and saw the corner of his mouth as it crinkled upwards, "Is he a friend of yours?"
Blood rushed to her cheeks and ears. She looked back up at the screen, watching Justin disappear into a truck with a large, burly young man at the wheel. "Yes, I believe he is a friend."
Chapter 11
Growing Pains
Elated at the prospect of seeing Abby, Brinn bent to pick some leafy greens to add to the fistful of columbine and daisies she collected for her friend. School would be out by now and Abby would be home for the summer. She smiled broadly as she touched the growing bouquet to her nose.
Justin had given her heart wings. It had been two weeks since he’d left her on the mountain and she woke every morning missing the feeling of being wrapped in the warm safety of his arms. He’d been there when she woke from one of her night terrors and he’d comforted her like nothing else ever had. She’d never felt anything so gratifying and perfect. She couldn’t wait to tell Abby.
By midday, with the sun hot on her shoulders, she reached the lowland meadows of Abby's farm. The farmhouse was half a day’s hike from her little cabin in the high country and she’d started out at daybreak. Brinn knew the way with little attention to paths or landmarks. If Abby followed her usual routine, she would be out riding and Brinn would find her traveling the trails on Callie, her chestnut mare.
As she hummed her way across the meadow, a familiar silhouette appeared in the distance. This time, however, her friend wasn’t alone. Brinn ducked behind the large willow that stood solitarily in the open field. As the two riders drew nearer, she made out the distinctive shape of a young man with neatly cropp
ed, sand colored hair, riding alongside Abby. Caught between her desire to see her friend and her fear of being seen by a stranger, she remained hidden.
Abby and the young man chatted and laughed as their horses approached. Brinn, close enough to hear their voices, pressed her back against the broad trunk of the willow, listening to the casual conversation carried on the warm breeze. Abby obviously trusted her companion and the tone of their conversation sounded light, the two laughing and enjoying the sunny day. Maybe he was like Justin, she considered. Maybe he was gentle and good, and would keep her secret if Abby asked him to. Mustering her courage, Brinn stepped out from behind the tree.
The horses started and reared back. The young man let out a girlish squeal as he tumbled from the back of Apollo, Callie’s mate. The bucking Appaloosa stomped the ground, just missing the stunned rider. Abby jumped down from her mount and was at his side in a flash. "Phillip, are you all right?" She fussed over him and brushed the dirt from his clothes as she helped him to his feet. She wheeled on Brinn who was nervously clutching the flowers behind her back.
"What are you doing? He could have been badly hurt!"
Brinn stared at the man, who was visibly angry and shaken. Ashamed and flustered, she looked down at her feet. "I’m sorry. He looks fine," she added. She glanced from her feet to his face but avoided eye contact. The young man gaped at her as if she were an apparition.
The perfect southern hostess, Abby softened her tone and made introductions. "This is my boyfriend, Phillip Maitland. We met at school. He’s majoring in Biomedical Engineering." She paused, waiting for Brinn to make eye contact before continuing. "Phillip, this is my friend Brinn—the one I told you about."
Brinn shot her a harsh look, hurt by the betrayal. When the man held out his hand, she stared at it suspiciously, certain it wouldn’t feel warm and soft like Justin’s had. Besides, they hadn't come to any particular agreement worth shaking on.
Abby smiled and blushed. "She doesn't shake hands, Sweetheart." The embarrassed look on her friend’s face made the hollow place in Brinn’s chest grow bigger.
Phillip’s hand lowered and the blue eyes that examined her held an expression of mixed distaste and relief. An awkward silence followed and an unpleasant heat flushed Brinn’s cheeks.
"I didn't expect to see you today, Brinn. Although, I'm awfully glad you've come,” she added quickly. “I was hoping you would get to meet Phillip. We're engaged." Abby beamed as she held out her hand and revealed a small sparkling stone atop a thin gold band.
Brinn eyed the stone, not quite certain how to respond. She looked from her friend to the man and back again and repeated the word. "Engaged?"
"To be married, of course." Smiling broadly, Abby tucked her arm under Phillip's and snuggled closer to him, linking her fingers with his and clutching his hand as if ready to drag him off somewhere.
Brinn shuffled her feet, her nerves starting to squirm. "That's nice," she muttered, not knowing what else to say. It had been just her and Abby for so long. Her stomach tightened and a sick feeling sank into her heart. This man, with the blue eyes and golden hair, was going to take her friend away. Brinn wanted to protest. She wanted Phillip to go away and leave them alone and never come back. She didn't like him or the way he was touching her friend. But Abby glowed with happiness.
Abby had lost her chubbiness and no longer wore the thick glasses that made her brown eyes large and bug-like. Her face was framed with shorter, wavier tresses that made her appear older and more mature. She’d changed since last fall. She wasn't the girl that Brinn remembered. Now, she was a lady—a woman of the world who had seen things beyond the farm, beyond the mountains.
"I should go." Brinn said, holding her tears back so hard her throat ached. Helpless to stop the world from changing around her, she bit down hard on her bottom lip to quell the rising emotions. A blanket of hopelessness surrounded her, the weight heavy on her shoulders as she turned to go. The flowers dropped at her feet.
"Wait,” Abby called out. Brinn turned back, staring at the scattered flowers on the ground. “Phillip is going back to North Carolina next week. I'll have time to get together with you then. I can tell you everything that's been happening since I started school and you can catch me up on how things are with you." Brinn glanced toward Phillip, trying to hide the hurt and sadness festering inside.
Abby tried to ease the uncomfortable tension in the air. "Phillip and I are going into town later. Maybe you could come with us? You don't mind, do you, Darlin’?" She blinked her eyes oddly at the young man who shifted uncomfortably but didn't protest. He smiled weakly and nodded.
Brinn looked at Abby as if her friend had just invited her to take a spaceship to the moon. Part of her wanted to refuse immediately. But another part heard the invitation in a new light. Kitty was busy with her cubs and hardly around much anymore. Abby was embarking on a whole new journey without her, and Brinn knew Mr. Hoffman would be ready to retire soon. The store was becoming too much for him and he’d mentioned moving to Florida to live with his sister.
Everyone was moving on without her. She felt a sudden desperation to run away. But instead of wanting to run into the mountains, for the first time, she wanted to run away from them. She thought of Justin and the stories he told her about the world, and a burst of courage bubbled to the surface, an underground spring filling her with new hope. She looked down at her tattered clothing. She couldn’t go looking like this. Her fists remained clutched at her sides, her eyes focused on the ground, "I don't think I can."
“I know I’ve asked you to come out of hiding a million times, but I really want you to consider it, Brinn.” Abby picked up the flowers, straightened the bunch and sniffed them. A sympathetic but determined smile spread across her face. “We aren’t children anymore and it’s time for your coming out. There is a whole wonderful world out there, and you are missing it. And more importantly, the world is missing out on you.” She crossed her arms, tucked the flowers under her elbow and put her foot down hard. “I’m not hiding you anymore, and this time, I won’t take no for an answer.”
Brinn looked down again at her boots and grubby wardrobe, and scratched at the knotted nest on her head. "Do you have clean clothes that I could wear?"
Taken aback and overcome with surprise and pleasure, Abby wrapped Brinn in a warm embrace, the wilted flowers still clutched in her hand. "Of course I do! I've waited a long time for you to make your debut. We are going to fix you up to look gorgeous."
Phillip snorted as if to say "Good luck with that," but to his credit kept his mouth shut.
Chapter 12
A Brand New Brinn
The rambling farmhouse needed paint but it held an air of hominess that made Brinn feel welcomed. She’d only been inside a few times, and always when Mr. and Mrs. McMurray were out, but she basked in the smell of baked bread that permeated the kitchen as if it were part of the flowered wallpaper. The décor was simple, the furniture slightly dulled by years of use, but beautiful all the same.
The family pictures that lined the stairway showed generations of McMurrays and Frasers with features that closely matched Abby in both coloring and bone structure. Brinn stared in awe, taking the stairs one at a time and pausing to study the portraits.
“That’s my great grandma. I was named after her.” Abby gestured to an aged photo of a young woman on horseback wearing a long skirt and high-necked blouse.
Hung in neat rows and columns, the pictures were evidence of a history that seemed unfathomable. What must it be like to be a part of a family, to know all your relatives, and to experience the connection of blood that flows through the roots of an extensive family tree? She remembered having grandparents when she was very small—her mother’s parents at least. They lived far away in another country. She’d only met them a few times and they spoke a strange language she hadn’t understood. She couldn’t remember her father’s parents at all. The only family she ever really knew was her mother and father. And they were dead.
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br /> “Where are your parents?” Brinn asked, pushing away the memories.
“Since I started school, Mom and Dad have taken up golf. I don’t see the fun in chasing a little ball and trying to whack it into a hole, but they’re obsessed,” she giggled, leading Brinn down a hallway and into the bathroom that adjoined a spacious bedroom, decorated in pinks and creamy chiffon. “With my parents gone, we’ll have free rein to play with your hair, makeup, and wardrobe.” Abby looked expectantly at Brinn. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”
Phillip hadn’t objected, but didn't look at all pleased to leave the girls alone for the rest of the day. He agreed to pick them up at 6:30 that evening to take them for a night out on the town.
Brinn sank into a large claw-foot tub up to her ears in hot, soapy, water. It felt wonderful—nothing like the icy streams where she normally bathed. Abby sat on a low stool next to the tub, painstakingly combing knots and burrs out of Brinn’s hair with short, harsh jerks.
"Ouch!" Brinn repeated for the thousandth time.
"Don't squirm! It wouldn't get so awful if you would learn to use the hairbrush I gave you."
Brinn scowled at her friend, wincing as another snarl broke free. "I use it for scrubbing dirt off of roots and scales off of fish. I thought it best not to use it on my hair."
Abby grinned. "Well, I see your point." Continuing her task with a bit more mercy—finally conceding to cutting a few particularly stubborn tangles out with scissors—she peered over Brinn's shoulder. "Do you think Phillip is handsome? I mean, do you like the way he looks?"