Saratoga Falls: The Complete Love Story Series

by Pogue, Lindsey

  Fifth and sixth graders had a different lunch hour. And they definitely didn’t talk to third graders.

  “I was sneaking into the cafeteria to steal a cookie and saw the whole thing. It was epic.” He lifted up the palm of his hand, waiting for something, then his amused expression faded and he rolled his eyes. “All right, no high-five then. Way to leave a guy hanging,” he grumbled and shoved his hands in his pant pockets.

  “We better get to class,” the boy beside him said. His eyes were bright blue, his hair short and blonde. They were both really cute.

  The smiley one nodded to his blue-eyed friend. “This is my paranoid buddy, Josh. I’m Nick.”

  Josh gave us a slow wave before his eyes narrowed on me, singling me out. “Doesn’t your dad work at that car place?” he asked.

  I was going to nod, when Sam said, “Yeah, he owns it.”

  Looking at her, I frowned. “How do you know that?”

  “I might not talk a lot but I’m not stupid,” she said, causing Nick to chuckle, and I almost smiled.

  “You live next to Josh, right?” Nick looked at Sam.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Yeah, she does,” Josh said, sounding a little impatient. “I’ve seen you and your dad driving up the road. I live on the other side of the lake.” The conversation was getting more interesting by the minute, and I tried not to let my eyes dart too frantically back and forth. Fifth graders were talking to us—cute ones. Boys.

  Sam frowned. “I thought mean Mr. Reilly lived in that house. My dad says he’s sad and angry all the time and I should never bother him.”

  Nick and Josh exchanged an awkward look. “Yeah,” Josh said. “He is angry all the time.” He nudged Nick. “And I really don’t want to get in trouble.” This time, Josh’s words were more urgent.

  “All right,” Nick groaned, like talking to third graders was the most normal thing in the world. “See ya around.”

  “Bye!” I chirped as my backpack slipped off my shoulder. Sam and I watched them head back toward the portable classrooms, where the higher grades were, in silence.

  When they were out of earshot, I turned to Sam. “Josh is your neighbor, and you never said anything?”

  Sam looked confused and opened her mouth to say something, but I pulled her with me as I walked toward the playground. “Come on.”

  “What—where are we going?”

  “To the swings. You’re going to tell me everything you know about Josh and Mr. Reilly. I’m fascinated.”

  “But I don’t know anything about him—”

  “He’s the cutest, most popular boy at this school and you live right next to him. I need all of the details.” Although I did think Josh Reilly was cute, I mostly just wanted to talk to Sam more, plus, I was always in need of a new distraction. Sam and the boys seemed like just the thing.

  “We’re going to make it our mission to find out more about them,” I told her. “You live next door to Josh—they both go to this school, and they both seem cool. None of the guys in our grade are cool.”

  “That’s true,” Sam said, and the instant she did, I knew she was onboard. She might’ve been a complete stranger, but there was something about her that was comforting.

  “So, this is what we’re going to do . . .”

  I never really knew if it was my false bravado mixed with her timid personality or if it was that we both shared some unspoken kinship given our motherless upbringing that made us such fast friends, but as I tugged her adamantly along that day, the relief in her eyes endeared me to her then and there. An unexpected weight lifted from my heart, too, and she’s been my best friend ever since.

  Two

  Birthday Surprise

  Mac

  Seven Years Ago

  My muscles were like Jell-O and sweat crystallized on my skin in the crisp fall air as I jumped out of Mr. Miller’s truck, in front of my house. Friday at school—done. My track meet—finished without making a fool of myself. Birthday celebrations—well, they would commence after I helped my dad at the shop for a little while. At least, I’d hoped.

  “Happy birthday, Machaela,” Mr. Miller said, just as Sam shouted, “See ya!” from the bench seat of her dad’s truck.

  I tugged my backpack on and pulled my ponytail out from under the straps. “Thanks, Mr. Miller.” I grinned my appreciation, and winked at my best friend. “I’ll see you tonight, Sam.”

  She rolled her eyes. “There’s no surprise party, Mac. It’s just a low-key dinner at the Turners’. You know how they are. You need to give it up already.”

  “Okay, whatever you say, Sam.” I winked again and waved as I headed into the house. “Ta-ta!”

  I eyed the empty driveway. Dad was always at work and David was never home, which meant there was plenty of room for my soon-to-be car. Since I was officially sixteen-years-old, soon I’d have enough money saved up to buy that Datsun I’d been jonesing for since last summer. The bigger question mark was, however, how would I convince my dad to let me buy it? He’d always been all about the classic cars, but the moment a baby blue, ’69 Datsun 510 passed through the shop and I’d said I wanted it, I could practically feel his cringe.

  Per usual, I struggled to get my key to work in the front door. The cool breeze came up, wracking my body with chills. Sticky keys and struggling on the stoop. The story of my life. Finally, after a wiggle, a curse, and a final jiggle, the door opened and I nearly fell inside.

  Knowing I needed a shower and to finish my inventory project at my dad’s shop, I hurried past David’s room and into mine. Closing the door behind me, I tossed my backpack onto my bed victoriously. I’d made it through the school day without getting an embarrassing birthday spanking from someone. There were no awkward moments in class or horribly out of tune serenades, wishing me a Happy Birthday over and over again.

  I peered up longingly at my future husband, Damian Tate. He smiled down at me with dark, devious eyes from the poster on the wall. Although I knew he’d get hordes of girls vying for his hand in marriage, I also knew that I had the most ambition and determination. I figured that if I could ever make it to Los Angeles, I’d find him. I’d just have to try not to get arrested in the process.

  But alas, my trip to L.A. would have to wait until the Datsun was mine and the keys were in my hand. Well, any car would do, actually, but if I was going to fork out the money, I might as well get something I loved, and the pretty Jeep Wrangler I saw at the dealership—bright yellow with shiny wheels that shouted Fun, with a capital F! was just too much money.

  Sighing, I stared into my closet. It was time to shower and change for the night’s festivities. I didn’t care what Sam said. Dinner at the Turners was still a birthday dinner, special for me, and likely the only one I would get. I wanted to dress the part, even if I was going to finish inventory at the shop first. Plus, I needed my dad to give me a ride to Nick’s, even if he wouldn’t have time to stay.

  For the briefest of moments, I thought about my mom. Did she know that it was my sixteenth birthday? Did she even care? My chest tightened, along with my fists. I hated her for leaving me. For leaving all of us. I didn’t care if she was sick or if her leaving was for the best. The best for who, exactly?

  Staring at a rainbow of shirts and sweaters, I decided a cardigan, skirt, and boots would be dressy enough for my birthday dinner, and would keep the chill of autumn at bay, too. It was the perfect ensemble, whether or not my dad’s opinion would match mine was the only uncertain variable.

  * * *

  Finally, almost too warm in my cardigan and boots, I made it to Cal’s Auto. The one place in the world that felt equally like home. When I walked into the shop, the sound of air compressors, drill guns, and rock ‘n’ roll greeted my ears.

  I glanced around the shop. “Dad!”

  Felix, my dad’s best friend who was like an uncle to me, rolled out from under the Cadillac in his stall. “Hey, kid,” he said, a bit more surprised than I’d expected. He glance
d to the back door, then back to me. “Your dad stepped out for a minute, but he should be back soon.”

  I shrugged, still a tad bitter that he had so much work to do on my birthday. I’d only been waiting all year for it. No big deal. “I just came to finish up the inventory. I’ll be in the back.”

  I headed to the cooler and poured myself a cup of water. I wasn’t so much tired from the mile and a half walk in the fall air, as I was rethinking my shoe choice. A boot with a slight heel was cute, but not so conducive to a brisk stroll.

  Walking into the parts room, I collected my clipboard and started counting the individual fuses again, right where I’d left off the day before. Then, I moved on to the hose clamps, nuts, and bolts. I’m not sure how much time passed, a half hour, maybe, when I heard my dad’s heavy footsteps and his voice rumbling through the shop.

  “Machaela!”

  “Yeah, Dad?” I dropped a bolt into the bin, counting one by one in my head. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven—

  “What are you doing here? I thought you had a track meet?”

  I glared at him over my shoulder. “I did. It’s over. I’m here, killing time while I wait for you to take me to my birthday dinner at the Turner’s tonight.”

  His face fell a little and he stepped further into the room and kissed me on the forehead. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Happy Birthday. How was school—” He stopped short and eyed my attire with a frown.

  Naturally, I rolled my eyes. Here we go . . .

  “Why is your skirt so short?”

  “Oh my God, Dad. Really? It’s down to my knees. What, do you want me to dress like a nun?” I turned back to counting.

  “I want you to dress appropriately at the shop. You’re only fifteen.”

  “Sixteen today, actually.” I grumbled the reminder, more than disappointed. I knew he was busy, and I knew that he loved me more than anything, but somehow it still hurt that he hadn’t quite grasped how important a girl’s sixteenth birthday was. He should’ve been throwing me a party, not Nick’s parents. “Besides, don’t you trust your staff?”

  His glare spoke volumes.

  “Dad,” I growled. “I didn’t want to wear stupid jeans and a ginormous t-shirt to my party, okay? Geez.” I noticed the grease on his arms and hands. “You are still taking me tonight, right?”

  He looked conflicted.

  “Come on, you can break away from here for a minute at least, can’t you? I know you’re a workaholic and all, but it is your only little girl’s birthday today. I would think you might make an exception this one time.” To put me first, for once.

  Felix stepped into the room to grab an air filter. “I can drop you off at your party on my way home, Mac,” he offered. “That way your dad can finish up here and maybe get home at a decent time tonight.”

  Regret deepened my dad’s furrowed brow, and I knew in that moment he was going to pass the buck now that he had a backup. Maybe he was so used to letting me do my own thing that he didn’t know how to be a real dad anymore. David had always acted like he didn’t need my dad around, and with me always looking after Bobby, my dad was never really around much for the daily, family routines.

  “Thanks, Felix,” my dad finally said. “That would be great.”

  Not wanting my dad to see the tears pricking the backs of my eyes, I turned back to the cubby of gears and grease, and pretended to continue counting.

  If I’d had my own car, I could’ve driven myself to Nick’s and brought myself back. The Datsun had felt so attainable when I’d woken up at 7:00 a.m., freshly turned sixteen. I could practically smell the fuel, pumping into my first car during my first refill. It had only taken hours to seem like it was never going to happen.

  When my dad didn’t say anything else, I glanced back at him, feeling awkward as we stood in silence. “What are you staring at?” I asked with more attitude than he appreciated, but I was pretty sure he deserved it. His eyes were still on my clothes. “Dad, it’s a skirt and boots. My chest is covered, so get over it. It could be worse, I could be dressed like a hooker.”

  He blanched and nearly stumbled back, trying not to laugh. “Excuse me? A hooker? How do you even know what that means?”

  “We’ve been through this. I’m sixteen, and I have an older brother and cable television—oh, and I’m in high school, so there’s that.”

  “I’m not sure if I should be worried by that statement.” After rubbing the side of his face, he shook his head and muttered something to himself. Finally, his hands fell down to his sides again. “How many of Nicholas’s friends are going to be at your party?” he asked reluctantly. “Is the whole baseball team showing up?”

  “No, it’s a dinner, like with his parents. Besides, even if the baseball team was going to be there, you know Nick and Reilly would look out for me and Sam. They always do.”

  With a bushy, lifted eyebrow, my dad crossed his arms over his chest. “Remind me to tell Nicholas that if anything ever happens to you, I’m holding him personally responsible. You’re at an age now where—”

  “Dad!” I screeched, increasingly mortified with every word he uttered. “I’m not eight anymore. Please, don’t start with the sex talk, that only makes it more awkward.” I turned to face him. “I know how things work, and I’m not stupid. I know what guys are like in high school. I’m in high school, remember?”

  My dad actually looked relieved . . . and exhausted . . . and conflicted. “Just be careful, Mac. You’re my baby girl. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.” He stepped closer and pulled me in for a side hug. “I know it sucks that I have to work tonight, but I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I know how special today is, and how hard you’ve been working for your new car, not to mention how excited you’ve been. We’ll do something special this weekend, okay? Your choice.”

  “Ha! Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I warned.

  He chuckled and shook his head. “You’re going to make me pay for this, aren’t you?”

  “You bet,” I chirped, finally able to smile a little.

  “I have to make a house call. If I don’t see you before you leave, I’ll be sure to pick you up tonight. Okay?”

  I nodded in defeat. “Okay.” And just like that, my dad walked out of the parts room, leaving me to stare at a wall of cubbies and small car parts that most boys my age wouldn’t even recognize. Even though I sometimes got angry at my dad for being too much of a guy and having double standards for me and my brothers, I knew he loved me. Even if he sucked at being a single parent sometimes.

  * * *

  Felix dropped me off at Nick’s house on his way home, feeding me some crap about my dad being in such high demand around town and how much business is booming. It was nothing I didn’t already know. I worked at the shop part time, after all. I helped with inventory and office work since my dad didn’t know how to hire a proper secretary. It didn’t change the fact that even though I appreciated Felix dropping me off, I still wished it was my dad and that he could’ve come to dinner.

  With a wave and a thank you, I shut the door to Felix’s Tacoma, eyeing Reilly’s red truck at the curb, and Mrs. Turner’s Mercedes in the driveway. I gave myself a pep talk as I made my way up to the front door. Get out of your funk, Mac. Like, now. My friends were inside, my best friends, that’s all that really mattered.

  Forcing a smile, I reached for the knob and didn’t even bother knocking as I stepped inside.

  “Hello, people!” I called out, just as “Surprise!” rang through the living room, making me jump and shout out a “Shit!”

  Sam, Nick, Reilly, and Mr. and Mrs. Turner were all smiles in their ridiculous party hats, blowing their annoying party favors, and I loved every minute of it.

  My heart swelled. “Wow, you guys sure know how to make a girl feel special,” I said happily, and wrapped my arms around Sam. “I told you there was a party,” I said victoriously.

  Sam only laughed. “Yeah, well, maybe not the party you were expecting, but ye
s, there is always a party—a dinner party, in this case.” There were shiny plastic birthday signs, and pink balloons, and every perfect thing I loved on my birthday. Nick was wearing an oversized sombrero and poncho, and I burst out laughing.

  “You look so authentic,” I lied. Tall white boy with hazel eyes and a perfect smile.

  I eyed the flashy, wrapped gifts on the coffee table. Sitting on top of them was a bag from Nordstrom. “Let me guess, Nick. That thoughtfully wrapped gift is from you?”

  His smile widened. “I ran out of time,” he admitted.

  “You don’t say?”

  I pulled Sam in for another hug before she could nudge him. “It’s perfect, Sam,” I said, breathing her in. “Thank you for doing this.”

  “Wait a second.” Nick stepped up beside us. “This wasn’t all Sam. No, no. I had a major part in this celebration.”

  “You mean your mom did?” Sam clarified, she and I laughing at the gibe.

  All too willingly, I gave Nick a hug, too. “Thank you, Nick. I appreciate you doing this for me.”

  I hugged Reilly next, then Mr. Turner. “Happy Birthday, kiddo.”

  “Thanks, Mr. T. I appreciate you letting us have the party here.”

  “No problem at all. I’m just sorry it’s not warmer out so you kids can use the pool. I know how much you like that.”

  “That’s okay. It’s the downside of an October birthday, I guess. You get used to a lot of disappointment, sharing your birthday with the goons and goblins of the world.”

  I saved Mrs. Turner’s hug for last because she always gave the best hugs, and I’d always had a special connection with her. Call it a motherly fix, or maybe I was the daughter she never had, but she always made me feel special when I needed a little pick-me-up.

  “Happy Birthday, Machaela,” she said, squeezing me tightly.

  “Thank you, Mrs. T. You smell like chocolate chip cookies . . . which means you made my favorite.”