by Jamie Pope
She let out a soft noise and shifted in her seat; he knew his words got to her. He hadn’t meant them as anything other than conversation, noise to fill the too-quiet space of the truck. But she was a teacher. She loved kids. She loved teaching. He had helped her set up her classroom. He was with her after her first day of school. He had listened that night as she talked about her new students. He had watched her eyes light up as she recounted her day.
“Do you miss the kids?” he asked her, knowing his question was painful. “Do you miss teaching?”
She was supposed to talk about it, about what happened. It would be hard. He knew it because he had gone through it. His doctor had told him he had to talk about what had happened in Iraq or it would eat at him. For so long he thought he should have died, that it was his fault his unit was destroyed.
But he had talked about it. He had found the good things in life. He had healed.
“Cass?” He glanced at her. She was still silent, but her eyes had sharpened. Focused on him.
It was such a little thing, but it was good. She wasn’t unreachable.
“We’re here.” He pulled into his driveway, up to his old fixer-upper house, which he could see the Gay Head lighthouse from. He never planned on settling here, but there was something about this place that felt like home to him.
He had never had that before.
He went around to her side of the truck, reaching for her. Part of him wanted to carry her into the house, over the threshold, but he didn’t. He set her on her feet. Her knees buckled a bit, but she stood. Leaning against him, she stood.
“That’s it.” With his arm firmly wrapped around her, they made the short trip to his door. He let them inside, nerves sneaking up on him. The house was a mess, barely livable. A circular saw sat in the kitchen, which he had just finished updating. His tools were strewn all over the living room. The only other room in the house that was fit for humans was his bedroom. He wondered what Cass was thinking about the place he had brought her to. Would she think that this place wasn’t good enough for her?
But when he looked down at her, he realized that she wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings at all. She was watching her feet as she put one foot in front of the other. He felt stupid then. She wasn’t like that. She never thought he wasn’t good enough. That was only his deal.
His bedroom was upstairs. Cass leaned on him heavily as they walked up the steps. This frail woman wasn’t his girl. Wasn’t the woman he thought about when he was on base in faraway countries. She wasn’t the girl he had compared all others to.
Doubt started to assault him. What if bringing her here was a mistake? What if her problems were too big? What if he couldn’t help her? He wasn’t foolish enough to think he could save her. He knew from experience that this kind of pain was something you had to save yourself from.
“I’m tired, Wylie,” she said, surprising him.
“I know, Cass. I know.”
He took off her shoes and tucked her into his bed. Her eyes closed immediately, her body seeming to melt into his mattress, but she grabbed his hand. She linked her fingers with his. He had thought about the sleeping arrangements on the ride home. His couch pulled out. He could sleep there until he got one of the other bedrooms fixed up. He slept on the ground in the mountains of Afghanistan. He had survived Hell Week in the Marines. He had learned to sleep anywhere. A couple of weeks on a couch wouldn’t kill him. But he didn’t want to sleep on a couch, or in another bed. He looked down at her, at their interlocking fingers, at the girl he used to fall asleep with at night and knew there was no way he could leave her again.
He gently removed his hand from hers, stripped off his clothes and lay down beside her. He just wanted to be there, in case she needed him, in case the dreams got too bad. But she reached for him. And they fell asleep that night with their bodies pressed against each other.
Chapter 4
“Come here, Cassandra.”
“No,” she said to Terrance as he reached for her, with a little mischievous grin spread across his face. He was looking at her with odd determination. She knew what was coming. She also knew that Wylie was watching and Terrance’s parents were watching, and it all felt kind of weird.
“You’re not going to see me for six weeks.” He caught hold of her hand and brought her closer.
“I know,” she said as her body brushed against his lanky one. “Who’s going to correct my grammar and argue with me about everything?” He was heading to Costa Rica, to be immersed in Spanish and study the culture. It was his father’s present to him for his sixteenth birthday.
“My father likes to argue,” he said into her hair. “I’m sure he can help you out.” She had hugged Terrance before; and even though in the past few months he seemed to have sprouted a foot, and filled out a bit, he felt familiar. Same square glasses. Same neat haircut. Same soapy smell. But this hug was not so familiar. He was hugging her a little longer. Holding her a little closer. Speaking to her a little more softly than she was used to.
It all felt . . . off.
“You’re going to be late for your flight.” She tried to push herself away from him, but he didn’t let her go. Instead he kissed her. It was a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek, but he kissed her and he had never done that before.
“Yuck.” She put her hand on the place where he kissed, wiping it off, still feeling the warmth and pressure of his lips. “Don’t kiss me! I don’t know where your mouth has been.”
He grinned at her. His eyes indulgent. “I’m just giving you something to write about in your diary tonight. And something you can dream about for the next six weeks.”
“You wish.” She pulled away from him. “Write me, okay? Tell me about all the cute girls you meet down there. You’ll be a stud when you come back to school. You know how girls love a guy who can speak a romance language.”
“Yes, I will, Cassandra.” He looked at Wylie, who was standing farther back, away from Mr. and Mrs. Miller, away from Terrance and her. A part of the family, but always apart from the family.
“Brother.” Except to Terrance. He reached out his hand to Wylie, who shook it before they both came together briefly in a manly hug. Wylie had been in Harmony Falls for four years now. Since he arrived, there had hardly been a time when she saw one without the other.
She thought Wylie’s constant presence would bug her, but it never did. Wylie had always been this quiet, calm force surrounding them. She didn’t think she would feel right without him either.
“I want to know about the girls too,” he said softly, but Cassandra still heard him. “You come back here a man, you hear?”
Terrance smiled as he pulled away. “You’ll be the first one to know.”
Terrance hugged his weepy mother and said his goodbyes. Soon he was gone. His father had taken him to the airport, while his mother retreated to the house to compose herself. They were alone, standing next to each other in silence for a few moments. It wasn’t often that there was just the two of them, but there were times. And whenever there were that odd little feeling bloomed inside her.
“I’m not sure I know what to do with myself,” he admitted with a bashful smile.
“I know. We’re kind of pathetic if we can’t figure out how to spend our summer without Terrance. Maybe we should go fling ourselves in the lake?”
“Dramatic.” He lightly bumped her shoulder with his own. “It’s hot as hell out here. Come sit with me in the gazebo.”
They walked slowly behind the house to the little shaded area where the gazebo sat, their arms brushing as they went.
“I still can’t believe you built this.” She ran her fingers along the white railing as she looked at Wylie James.
“I didn’t do it by myself.” He shrugged, still bashful. “Terrance and Mr. Miller helped.”
“Terrance ended up in the hospital when he hit his thumb with a hammer, and Mr. Miller hired the gardener’s son to replace him. I would use the term ‘help’ loosely.”
Wylie grinned at her, his head down, like he wanted to hide his amusement. “That thumb of his swelled up three times its normal size. He stayed in bed for two days.” He sobered. “I shouldn’t laugh. He was miserable.”
“You should laugh.” She sat down beside him on the bench; even though it was hot, her body wanted to be near his. “Terrance is so good at everything. It’s kind of nice to know he sucks at something.”
“I’ll never be as smart as him, and I’ll never be able to run track like he does, but I got a few things to keep my head up about.”
“Wylie James!” Patricia Miller’s voice rang out through the yard. They both looked up, inched apart as she walked toward them. “There you are.” She glanced from Cassandra to him, trying to determine what was going on. Mrs. Miller always looked at them that way when Terrance wasn’t around. “I’m heading to Avon to spend the day with my sister. While I’m gone, I want you to tidy up this house. Vacuum the den, wash all the dishes and toss out all the leftovers in the refrigerator.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I also want you to mow the side lawn. I don’t like the way the lawn service people did it. You’re going to have to go over it with the push mower.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll have to put gas in the mower. We don’t have any in the garage.”
“You’ll have to get some, but don’t worry about it today.” She looked at Cassandra. “I know Terrance wanted you to look after Cassandra while he was away. You two can spend some time together.”
Cassandra sat up straight. “‘Look after’?”
Wylie touched her leg. It was a sly touch, not one that Mrs. Miller could see, but enough of a touch to deliver a message.
He wanted her to shut up.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“You’re welcome. I won’t be home until late. I’m not sure when Eric will be home. You are on your own for dinner tonight.”
He nodded. “Have a nice time with your sister.”
She looked at him for a long moment, as if she was confused by him, as if she was trying to figure him out. “I will.”
“Why does she treat you like her servant?” Cassandra asked when Mrs. Miller was gone. “She has a cleaning woman. You’re not it.”
“I’ve got to earn my keep somehow. They took me in when nobody else wanted me, and that means I got to do what they say. Besides, I had to work a hell of a lot harder when my daddy was alive. Mowing her lawn isn’t much of a thing.”
She shook her head, not understanding how he didn’t feel slighted. “They could have sent you to Costa Rica with Terrance. Your grades were good this year. You do so much to help them.”
“I’ve got that job at the hardware store that I don’t want to give up. And I couldn’t have gone.” He grinned at her as he studied her face. “There would have been nobody around to ‘look after’ you if I did.”
“I don’t need anybody to look after me!”
“But you’re Terrance’s girl. I’ve got to keep the other boys away,” he said in his soft, slow voice.
His words caused her head to snap up. “I’m not his girl. It’s not like that. Terrance is just my friend. You know that.”
“I know.” He turned his big brown eyes on her. “I know. But they think you’re going to end up with him.”
“Who thinks that?”
“Everyone. Don’t you know, Cass? Terrance loves you.”
“He’s my best friend.” She tried to shrug off his words. “Of course he loves me.”
“Not like that. Not the way you love him.”
She sat still for a moment as his words sank in. Things were mostly the same between her and Terrance. He never tried to make a move. He never gave any hint that he wanted to be her boyfriend, but lately she had noticed a slight change in their friendship. He didn’t tease her so much. He touched her a little more. She wanted to think it was because they were going into their junior year, and it was because they were growing up. But she couldn’t convince herself of that.
“Did he tell you that he loves me?”
“He doesn’t have to,” he said heavily.
“But, Wylie . . .” She slid her fingers through his, moved closer to him. Wanting to close the space that always seemed to be between him.
She rested her head on his shoulder and looked up at him. Wylie James, who was always so hard to read, always so guarded, was like an open book in that moment.
He looked a little tortured.
“Please,” she whispered.
He moved his head closer, brought his big, rough hand up to her face to touch her cheek. They had never spoken about that strange little pull they felt around each other.
“Cass . . .” He choked on her name. “Don’t ask me.”
“Please.” There was nothing wrong with what they felt. They were sixteen and seventeen. They were unattached. They knew each other so well, and being near him made her feel good and jumpy and soothed, all at the same time.
But it also made her feel guilty. Like liking him so much was wrong.
“Please,” she asked him one more time. She saw the moment something inside him broke. His eyes went soft again as he pressed his lips to hers. Her first kiss was gentle and too quick and so sweet.
“Hell!” He cursed himself and lowered his mouth to hers again. He moved his mouth over hers, prompting her to open her lips a little wider, teaching her how to kiss him back without saying a word.
“Damn it, Cass.” He broke the kiss. “I can’t. I can’t do this to him.”
* * *
Cass awakened. She didn’t open her eyes, but she was awake. It was a long time since she dreamed about her first kiss. It was a long time since she had thought about Wylie like that. But she had been dreaming about him all night. She dreamed that he was with her, that he held her while she slept. She never saw him in that dream, but she knew it was him. She felt it was him.
Terrance popped into her mind. Thinking about Wylie, dreaming about him, was unfair to Terrance, especially since Wylie had left her without a word. Terrance really loved her. He treated her well. They had a nice marriage. She turned over, blindly reaching for him, wanting to show him that she appreciated him. But the bed was empty. Even the scent of his shaving soap was gone.
And then she remembered.
He was gone. It had been a year without him. Over a year. She opened her eyes, waiting for the panic to come, waiting for the desolation and then the numbness to overtake her, but she realized that she wasn’t in her bed, in the house she shared with her husband. There was sun pouring through an open window, hitting her face. She smelled the ocean.
“You’re awake.” Wylie James was standing by the door. It all came back to her. Her mother’s words, the long car ride. Him telling her that she was going to live with him.
She never thought she would see him again. And now he was back.
He was shirtless, only wearing a pair of blue-checked boxer shorts on his hard body and a worried expression on his face.
He sat beside her on the bed, smoothing her hair away from her face, touching her cheeks with his rough hands. She was having a hard time believing this. That she was here with him. She had long ago given up hope that she would see him again. “You look like hell.”
For a moment she was lost in the sensation of being touched, of having Wylie James run his hands across her skin. But then what he said hit her. “What?”
“You’re wasting away. You’re trying to let yourself die, and I’m not going to let it happen.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She had nothing to say. Wylie wasn’t wrong. Her husband was gone. The baby she wanted had died that same day. There wasn’t reason to get out of bed anymore.
“I want you to get up today. I want you to get up and get dressed.”
“There’s nothing left for me.” She turned away from him.
She missed his warmth as he walked away. She shut her eyes, burrowing farther into the mattress. He was
gone.
Good.
It was what she hoped for.
The sound of a running shower registered in her brain. She couldn’t remember the last time she had truly bathed, when she last had a long, hot shower or bath. She couldn’t remember the last time she wanted to get dressed and walk outside.
Her mother had tried to baby her, then badger her, and then bully her to live again. But her father couldn’t even look at her. She couldn’t remember the last time she had spoken to him. Terrance’s parents had stopped coming by the house shortly after she had come home from the hospital a month after she had awakened from her coma. Patricia cried whenever she saw her, wept over her son’s lost life. Told her it was too bad that she lost the baby, that she had lost the only piece of Terrance that was left. Eric wouldn’t even look her in the eye, too uncomfortable with her life.
She could read their minds.
Why did she live when their son had to die?
She had the same question.
Wylie’s footsteps pounded back into the room, distracting her from the thoughts that never left her. He grabbed her shoulder, turned her over to face him. He was angry. His eyes were determined and she was lifted from the bed and into his arms.
The sound of water grew closer. He took her to his bathroom. Before she could think, before she could process where she was, she was beneath icy cold water. She gasped. Gripping Wylie, trying to get closer, trying to get out of the way of a cold blast. But he wouldn’t let her. He held her there in his arms and she realized that she was too weak to fight him.
“You feel this, don’t you, Cass? You feel this and it means you’re still alive. You can still feel. You can still breathe.” He set her on her feet and turned her to face him. “You want a reason to get out of bed? I’ll give you one. You lived. You can move on and start a new life. You’re young and beautiful and there are people who love you. There are people who want you to be happy again. You’re thirty-one years old. You’ve got your whole fucking life ahead of you. And if those aren’t enough reasons, here’s one more. Terrance would have hated this. He would have hated to see you this way. He would have been so disappointed in you.”