by B. N. Hale
Dusk settled on the park, the darkness broken by twinkling stars. Lanterns glowed to life, illuminating families sitting around tables. Flashlights bobbed as people walked along paths between the trees.
Reed followed the road to the end and turned down a side road. Bordered by tall trees, the road led to a group of sheds placed out of view from the park. A group of shadowy figures were loading a pair of trailers with final supplies, and one truck pulled away as they entered the lot.
Reed parked next to the other vehicles and they got out. Reed fished a flashlight from his pocket and handed it to her and then clicked his own, allowing them to follow the path to the remaining truck.
“Reed?” a man asked.
“I’m here,” Reed said.
The man rubbed his hand across his bald head. Then he smiled at Reed and offered his hand to Kate, a grip that nearly crushed her fingers. His kind eyes seemed to bore into her until he nodded.
“I hope you’re ready,” he said. “We got twice as many fireworks as last year.”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Kate said, a thread of excitement warming her gut.
“Then let’s go,” he said. “Hop in and I’ll take you there.”
He stabbed a finger at the trailer, where two other men were already seated, the cab of the truck having already been filled. Kate exchanged a look with Reed, who seemed amused at the prospect of riding on the trailer, and then they climbed on, gripping the side supports for stability.
The trailer smelled of cut grass and was littered with dry clippings, repurposed from a lawn maintenance crew. Large boxes of fireworks filled the trailer and the truck, and showed dozens of glaring warnings.
Only to be operated by trained professionals.
Kate gestured to it. “Is that us?”
“It is tonight,” Reed said with a grin.
“Don’t mind that none.” A young man, who couldn’t have been over fifteen, waved dismissively. “We ain’t got training and none of us been burned.”
The truck revved to life and the trailer jostled forward. Kate reflexively grabbed one of the posts on the side of the trailer for support, but her body bounced into Reed. He reached out and caught her, holding her fast.
“I got you,” he said, and then smiled.
She made no move to escape. “You think?”
“I do,” he replied.
She smiled up at him, wondering if the shadow from earlier was just her imagination. In the red of the brake lights she couldn’t see enough to be sure, but it seemed he’d moved past whatever had affected him from Melissa’s visit.
The truck wound its way through a small, gravel road, the wheels bouncing over ruts, forcing her to cling to Reed for support. She wrapped her arm around his waist and held on, suddenly grateful for whoever had invented the trailer.
Not five minutes after leaving the sheds the truck exited the trees and pulled onto a wide grassy area behind a stage. Filled with equipment and speakers, the stage looked to be set up for a show, but only one person stood in front of a computer.
The truck came to a stop next to another and they got out, beginning to unload. Jim directed them to place the mortars a short distance apart, traffic cones indicating where they should go. With seven men and women already there, they finished setting up in just twenty minutes. Then Jim gathered them all to the trucks.
“Be safe,” he said, “and don’t be stupid. I’m talking to you, Ricky.”
“I’m not going to do what I did last year,” the youth from their truck protested.
Jim grunted in disbelief and then turned to Kate and Reed. “You two will stick together. Just light them throughout the music, but save six for the finale.” He handed them each a long handled lighter. “And if it goes off on the ground, don’t be near it.”
“Are we lighting them in time with the music?” Kate asked, eliciting laughter and smirks.
“We aren’t Denver,” Ricky said, flicking his lighter on. “We don’t need no electronics to light fireworks.”
“We’re here because we like to blow things up,” another man said with a laugh.
Reed and Kate stood at their appointed spot and she looked up at the slope beyond the stage. Thousands of people gathered in a sea of color, all awaiting the coming spectacle. Sparklers ignited the scene as the music began to play, and a woman’s voice sang America the Beautiful. Then Jim lit the first fuse.
Boom.
The mortar streaked into the sky and detonated in a blast of red and white, eliciting cries of delight from the crowd. Another mortar went off, and then another, the sky turning into a tapestry of sparks and light.
“Shall we?” Reed asked, raising his lighter.
“We shall,” Kate said.
She stooped and lit her lighter. Then she touched the flame to the fuse and they hastily retreated. The mortar burst from the tube and flew into the sky, joining the cacophony of fireworks already exploding in the heavens.
“Your turn,” she said, a wild grin on her face.
He stooped and lit another, and then she took her turn. Then they did two at once, laughing as they exploded in unison. Like excited kids, they worked together, lighting more and more, trying to keep up with Ricky, who was lighting fireworks nonstop, filling the grass with smoke and the scent of burned sulfur.
Smoke curled around them in a dense cloud, changing color as the lights blossomed in the sky, first green, then white, then blue and gold. The designated pyro crew were like wraiths in the smoke, their faces briefly illuminated by their lighters.
The music built, the crescendo rising to compel them to hurry, the lights providing a counterpoint to the music. Jim called for the finale and they rushed about, igniting every fuse. Then Reed and Kate stepped back as mortars blasted into the night.
The grass and trees filled with smoke and light, the heavens a brilliant display, crackling with sound and light. With the music reaching the pinnacle, Kate drifted closer to Reed, and when she looked at him his eyes were on her.
His fingers reached out and touched her wrist, the contact like lightning up her arm. It was warm but she shivered and drifted closer, watching the fireworks reflected in his eyes. His smile, always so easy and light, now betrayed a soft vulnerability that drew her in.
Her heart thumping in her chest, she slowly reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, the motion tentative, worried. He tensed, doubt appearing on his gaze. He opened his mouth but she shook her head, a rare courage gripping her. Or maybe it was desire.
“I think it’s time to stop pretending,” she said, her voice husky.
In the midst of the fireworks and smoke, the music rising to the high note, she swallowed her fear and brushed her lips against his, sending electricity to her toes. She shivered and leaned in, yearning for more.
But he retreated.
Chapter 6
Reed leaned back, grimacing as if in pain. Kate stared at him, her emotions spinning like tires in the mud until suddenly they caught. Then her gut clenched and she stepped back, her hands falling to her side and balling into fists.
“Why did you bring me here tonight?” she said, her tone rigid.
“You know my rules.”
“Don’t give me that,” she said, her hurt rapidly turning to anger. “We both know what you brought me here to say.” She had to raise her voice to be heard over the fireworks and music.
“And what’s that?”
“That you wanted to date me for real,” she said. “No more games.”
He opened his mouth to protest but no words escaped. Then his jaw clenched and he looked away, the conflict written on his face. The fireworks continued to ignite the night sky, but with each passing second her anger mounted.
“You don’t understand,” he said quietly.
“Is this about Melissa?” she demanded.
“No.” he said, and then shook his head. “Yes.”
“And Aura?”
“It has everything to do with her,” he whispered.
“What happened?” she demanded.
He was silent for several seconds, the conflict twisting his expression. Anger bubbled inside her, rising to quell the previous desire, to bury it beneath a mountain of fury. But the desire remained, and she hated that her heart refused to break.
“I killed her.” The words came out like they were forced from his lips, and he clenched his eyes against it. “I’m the reason she died.”
“How?”
“She thought Tim would make her happy,” he said. “But he was a human piece of trash that fell into a bottle. She didn’t know how to leave, and one night they were driving home . . .”
He fell silent, the pain on his face finally breaking through her anger. She stared at him, at the agony he’d carried for so long, that he’d buried so none would know. She still didn’t understand the cause, but she understood his regret.
“So this is your penance?” she asked, gesturing vaguely in Melissa’s direction. “Help girls see that good guys exist?”
He nodded, the light of the last fireworks flickering on his face. “These girls that I’ve taken on a date, they start out thinking that all guys want is their body. They just want a guy to look at them, even when they know he doesn’t care. I remind them that decent guys exist. I give them hope.
“Don’t you see?” he continued, not even looking as the crowd cheered the finale. “Girls are stuck with these dogs and they’re miserable. They pretend they’re not, and hide their doubt and fear behind smiling pictures they post online.”
“Jason was a good guy,” she said.
“He was,” he said, finally meeting her gaze. “But how many more are like him?”
She shook her head. “Not many. But this isn’t a crusade that can be won.”
“You saw Melissa,” he said. “When I met her she’d just gotten out of a bad relationship. Her boyfriend beat her and thought it was funny when she bruised. When I dropped her off, it was like a light had sparked in her eyes, like she’d been healed.”
“How long do you plan on doing this?” Kate asked.
She lowered her voice when she spotted Jim and the others collecting the mortar tubes. Kate and Reed had lit those at the front of the group, and for the moment they were out of earshot.
“Five thousand dates,” he said.
Her eyes widened. “You can’t be serious.”
“One for every second I waited,” he said.
She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“Eighty-three minutes,” he said, his voice hard and clipped. “That’s how long I was on the phone after the accident. That’s how long I waited for an ambulance to arrive, until I heard the paramedic say she was gone.”
“You were on the phone when it happened?” Her anger was gone, and his pain had become hers.
“She called because she was upset,” he said. “Because he wouldn’t let her drive.”
“You heard the accident,” she said slowly.
He stared into memory, his countenance broken, his shoulders hunched. Jim and the others hovered at the trucks, the cleanup finished, but none seemed inclined to interrupt them. Jim caught Kate’s eye but she gave a tiny shake of her head. The man nodded and motioned to the others, and they piled into the second truck. He remained behind and folded his arms, obviously content to stay. The entire exchange went unnoticed by Reed, who stared at the departing crowd without seeing them.
“I heard metal crunch,” he whispered, tears forming in his eyes. “I heard glass shatter and tires squeal. But most of all . . . I heard Aura scream.”
Kate reached out to him and put her hand on his arm. He did not move or tense, and continued the story as if he didn’t feel the touch.
“I shouted for her,” he said. “I screamed for her but she didn’t answer. I listened to her breath, to the rasp as she tried to speak. I told her I would call for help and used our house phone to call 911. I remember I dropped the phone and I cursed. I kept screaming for Aura but her breathing was weak. I just watched the clock while the lady on the phone said that paramedics were on their way. They were too late.” He paused and looked to Kate. “I was too late.”
“You couldn’t have prevented it,” she said.
“But I could have,” he said bitterly. “I took her on one date and it wasn’t good enough. I swore I would never make that mistake again. I couldn’t make it right for her, but I could for others.”
“Others like me?”
He finally looked to her. “Not like you. You’ve always been different. You’ve always been more.”
“I cannot imagine what you’ve been through,” Kate murmured, moving to stand in front of him. “But you can’t fix the world on your own. Men will mistreat women and women will mistreat men. It’s terrible, but it’s how the world works.”
“I don’t want it to work that way.”
“Then be with me,” she said, putting her hand on his face. “Unless you’re saying you don’t want to be.”
“I do,” he whispered, his voice turning stricken. “But I can’t. I have to finish what I started.”
“I can’t wait,” she said softly. “You know what I feel for you, but I can’t stand by while you show other women how they should be treated. Not anymore. Not when I feel for you the way I do. I know you’re afraid, and I’m sorry for Aura—more than I can express—but I can’t keep doing this, not when I know your heart is elsewhere.”
She held her breath, afraid to make a sound. The seconds passed as she stared into his eyes, and for an instant she felt a spark of hope. Then he slowly shook his head, the tiny motion stabbing into her heart. Tears welled up and she turned away.
“Goodbye, Reed,” she said, fighting to hold the dam. “I’ll call Ember to come get me.”
“Wait,” he said.
He reached out for her but she was already walking away. She expected him to follow but the footsteps did not come, and the dam burst. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she disappeared into the smoke.
She cast a look back and saw him standing, his arm still outstretched, the conflict still on his face, tears also in his eyes. He did not call her name, and she did not turn back again. Silently sobbing, she left him behind.
She walked up the grassy hill where the people had stood watching the fireworks. Now she trod through their absence, not seeing the ground, not seeing the trees, not seeing what lay ahead. A branch blocked her path and she tripped, landing hard. Her hands filled with grass and she held the tenuous strands, fighting to stop the tears, but the effort was futile. She rolled into a sitting position and wrapped her hands around her knees, holding her legs as if the compression would stop her heart from shattering.
Alone in the dark, she cradled her knees and fought the regret, the anger, the pain. How could she have known what he’d endured? What he’d lost? She couldn’t compete with Aura’s memory, nor did she want to. Kate had dated guys that had driven home drunk, and she could have shared Aura’s fate.
When the cold pierced the cloud of tears she shivered and wiped her eyes, suddenly aware that she was alone in the park. She felt a surge of fear, but it quickly faded. Despite their conversation, Reed would never have left her in the park alone. He was probably watching, unwilling to depart until she was safe. The thought only elicited more tears, and she struggled to pull out her phone and call Ember.
“Kate?” she asked. “Where are you? It’s after one.”
“I’m at the east park,” she said.
Ember caught the tremble in her voice. “What happened?”
“I need you to come get me,” she said, unable to stop the tears. “Please?”
For the first time in her life, Ember didn’t argue. “I’m on my way,” she said.
In surprisingly short time Ember’s jeep pulled onto the road, the lights falling on her huddled form. Kate willed herself to rise but her body failed to respond, and a moment later three sets of arms picked her up and hurried her into the car.
The blondes fuss
ed over her, but she sat mute and stiff. The tears were gone. Then Marta’s voice managed to thread into her consciousness, her question piercing the din that buzzed in her thoughts.
“Where’s Reed?” she asked softly.
“Gone,” Kate said. “It’s over.”
Her roommates fell silent and Kate met their gaze. She’d thought her tears were gone, but they returned in a flood. Her roommates tried to console her, but their words were just a hum and she retreated into her mind.
“It’s over,” she whispered, the words echoing as she cried.
Excerpt from Volume 12
Reed watched Kate disappear into the smoke. He wanted to call her name, to call her back, to tell her he was wrong. But the words did not come. His heart felt stretched to the breaking point, like he was about to snap.
He wanted to be angry at Melissa for the reminder of his duty, but she did not deserve his ire. She was exactly what he wanted to see, a girl who knew what she deserved. But is that what he still wanted? Bowing his head, he rubbed his neck and trudged to Jim, still waiting at the truck.
Reed made his way to the passenger seat and climbed into the cab. Jim opened his door and joined him, inserting the key. He turned around on the grass and made his way back up the road, the truck bouncing over the ruts in the road.
“You shouldn’t have let her go.”
“You know my rules,” Reed said. His voice sounded distant, unable to push through the numbness in his chest.
“Rules apply to a game,” Jim said. “But your game is over.”
Reed sighed. “I’m grateful for your help, Jim, but you don’t understand.”
The man grunted. “I’ve been watching the site—I’ve even voted on your dates. Don’t kid yourself. You’ve fallen—hard. I may just be an old man, but I’m not blind yet. You shouldn’t have let her go.”
“It’s too late now,” Reed muttered. “She’s gone.”