I knew how it could be, but I was pretty glad he was there, and not just for my mom’s sake, either. “Well she’ll be happy.” Another understatement.
“Anything to eat?” He asked, suddenly pushing himself off the couch. “I am in desperate need of a shower and sleep, but food first.”
I followed him into the kitchen. “Nothing fancy, but I’m sure you can find something.”
He stuck his head in the fridge.
“So, how were things at Rosewood?” I asked as I picked up the dishcloth and started in on the sink full of dishes I’d abandoned earlier. It occurred to me that he had been there until just recently and might actually have some news. Even though I knew I wouldn’t be going back, I was still desperate to hear what was going on at the school. Well, with my friends, anyway.
He was rummaging noisily around in the fridge, but I heard him say a curt, “Fine.”
“Fine? That’s it?”
He emerged with a package of sliced meats and cheese, frowning. “Yes. Fine. What do you want me to tell you?”
Everything, I didn’t say.
I wasn’t exactly an expert in interrogation techniques, but I could tell from his shifty eyes, the ones which never fully landed on mine, that he was hiding something.
I had a good guess what it was, too. I sighed. “What happened?”
He turned his back on me and kicked the fridge door closed behind himself, not answering my question. Unless you call a mumbly snort an answer, which I don’t.
“Robert?”
Seeming to ignore me, he pulled the bread from the cupboard and tore off a hunk, scattering shards of crust all over the counter. I wiped them into my hand and dumped them into the compost bin, slamming it closed to get his attention. It didn’t work.
“Robert!”
Finally he looked up at me. Or maybe glared is a better term. “What?”
“Whose heart did you break?”
“What makes you think I broke any hearts?”
“Really,” I said, crossing my arms. “Okay, let’s start with the blush on your face. You never blush.”
“I’m exhausted; I’ve been up for like a day and a half. Or maybe I caught typhoid on the plane or something.”
“Really,” I said again. “Typhoid. Something happened at Rosewood, that’s not up for debate. There had to be collateral damage, I just want to know who it was.”
He shrugged, returning to his plate, arranging the food on it very precisely, which told me volumes about how much he was hiding from me. Or trying to hide. “It doesn’t matter.”
Ugh, seriously? “Robert. That’s disgusting, saying she doesn’t matter.”
He looked up, his face angry at first and then morphing into just serious. “I never said she doesn’t matter. I said it doesn’t matter. What I meant was that since neither of us is going back, what may or may not have happened is irrelevant to you. And frankly, it’s none of your business, little sister.”
Yeah, like that was going to get me to drop it. “Was it one of my friends? Because if it was, it’s totally my business.” He had to tell me that much, even if it was true that I wasn’t going back. Although, when he looked away, I knew.
“Chelly?”
He gave a microscopic shake of his head.
Oh God. At least with Chelly, I knew it would just be flirting and fun times. Until he dumped her, of course. But she’d be able to handle it better than... “Emmie? It was Emmie, wasn’t it?”
He exhaled, as much of an admission as a spoken yes would have been.
“What happened?”
“It was doomed before it even started.”
My first instinct was to be mad at him for messing with my friend, but something in his voice told me there was more to it than him just messing around with her and then leaving.
“Okay, Romeo,” I started, trying to seem breezy. “What happened? Did you hurt her?”
After a long moment, he sighed and nodded. “I didn’t mean to. God, I...” he pushed his fingers through his hair. “I really liked her. I shouldn’t have gotten involved. I tried not to, but in the end, I guess I couldn’t help myself.”
I stared at his turned face, willing him to look at me. “You’re such a guy.”
He glanced at me and rolled his eyes. “I know you’re dying to say I told you so, but honestly, it wasn’t like that. I really liked her.”
“You didn’t...” I waggled my eyebrows, hoping he’d get my meaning so I wouldn’t have to say it out loud. I held my breath, hoping they hadn’t.
He took a bite of his sandwich and chewed some before answering, thankfully getting my meaning. “No, we just fooled around a bit and were keeping it casual. But then I was getting ready to leave and she found out that I’d been pretending to be you.”
I swear, I heard the screeching of brakes in my head. “What?”
He exhaled and then took another huge bite of his sandwich, seeming like he wasn’t going to continue.
“What do you mean: pretending to be me?” I prodded, not about to let this go.
Cracking open a soda, he took a swig before answering. “She was bugging me to get a hold of you to get your new cell number—they all thought you lost your phone at the airport—so she could communicate with you. Obviously that was impossible, but she wouldn’t give it up. I tried to blow her off, but she was like a shark with it.”
“Yeah, that sounds like Emmie,” I said, returning to the sink to add more water and soap.
“So I got a phone and programmed it to look like a UK number.” He put the sandwich down on the plate and stared at it like he’d lost his appetite. “I really didn’t mean to hurt her. I thought she’d just text you to ask about Dad and stuff. It got weird. Complicated.”
I turned off the tap and looked at him sideways. “Complicated how?”
He cringed and the blush came back, which, if we hadn’t been having this exact conversation, would have been pretty funny.
“She started talking ‘to you’ about how much she liked me.”
Oh God. “No, please tell me that didn’t happen.” Even I blushed at that, but out of embarrassment for Emmie, not him. “Ugh. And then she found out it was you the whole time?”
He nodded.
“That’s terrible. What did she do?”
His eyes widened and he looked at me like I was cracked. “What do you think she did? She freaked out. Wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah,” I said, realizing I’d asked the wrong question. “Obviously she freaked out. What I meant was: what happened after that?”
He shrugged. “It was just as I was leaving campus, so I left. She was so upset, but I had to go. I couldn’t exactly chase her up to her dorm room. But,” he held up his hand to stop me when I opened my mouth. “I finally got through to her by e-mail. I’ve been texting her since it happened and sent her an e-mail this morning—yesterday morning...” he shook his head, obviously messed up by the exhaustion and time difference. “—sometime...Anyway, she finally e-mailed me back to say she forgave me.”
I took a deep breath and looked at my brother. He actually looked sad, no: gutted. “You really did like her, didn’t you?”
He shoved his hand through his hair again, lodging a crumb in there. “Yeah. I...” he looked away and said, “I don’t think she was the only one who ended up with a broken heart.”
My brother was not a mushy, emotional guy, so for him to say something like this was huge. I reached up and pulled the crumb from his hair, causing him to turn back toward me.
“She’s a great girl,” I said gently. “I can totally see why you’d fall for her. Too bad we can’t go back.” For many reasons, I thought.
He nodded in agreement and returned to his food. “Oh,” he said after a long moment. “By the way, I tied up the loose ends with that Dave guy for you.”
Alarm bells went off in my head. “What do you mean?” I asked, looking at him sideways.
“I texted him and told him—as you—that you weren’
t able to date him and that he shouldn’t wait for you.”
At first I was mad, but then as I digested this information, I realized he’d done me a favor. The last thing I wanted was poor Dave hanging on forever, waiting for me to come back. Right, Brooklyn, my brain interjected, like a sweet and super-hot guy like that is going to wait around for you to come back. You may have turned a new leaf at that school, but what you’re thinking is like a whole forest.
“Thanks,” I said with a sigh, reminded again how every single one of my relationships got fire-bombed when I had to leave. “I guess that’s for the best. How did he take it?”
Robert rolled his eyes. “I didn’t exactly get into it with him. It was bad enough I had to pretend to be you to a dude as it was.”
I smiled at him and started in on the dishes.
Once he was finished eating, he slid his plate into the sink and spontaneously gave me a side-hug around my shoulders. “It’s good to be home,” he said.
My hands were wet, but I leaned into him and smiled. “It’s good to have you home, big brother.”
He smiled back, “I’m going to see if I can grab a nap before they come home. How long do I have?”
Glancing at the clock, I turned back to him and gave him an apologetic look. “Like, half an hour? Maybe?”
He sighed and left the room, muttering curses along the way. I couldn’t help but smile; it really was good to have him home.
As I mindlessly scrubbed the dishes, my eyes drifted out the window, but the courtyard was still empty.
Inspiration?
As expected, Mom lost it when she and Dad returned home from church to find Robert there. I’d never seen her shed so many tears out of sheer happiness, but that she was usually so stoic and was now a complete basket case told me a lot about what being a mom was really like. Not that I was in any rush to experience it for myself, but it’s like I suddenly got how emotional being a mother could be. Or maybe it was menopause making her mental or something, but anyway, she was really happy that we were all together.
Except then she got a little frantic about how she didn’t have any presents for him, nor did she have the food to make a proper Christmas dinner, which led to her feeling guilty about denying Dad and I a holiday in the first place. Maybe it was hormonal after all—I wasn’t about to ask—even Dad was looking at her strangely.
In the end, of course we forgave her and assured her that a simple dinner was all we really wanted as long as the four of us were together. Since all the stores were closed, she had no choice but to believe us and we proved it to her when we had a great evening, albeit an early one for Robert after he pretty much crashed into his spaghetti and meatballs. Mom sent him off to bed and the three of us played board games for the rest of the night.
Once I was in bed, I reached for my lamp, but paused before turning it off; I wasn’t sleepy at all. My mind was whirling with the events of the day, from Robert coming home and our family being together again, to the guy out in the courtyard. Too many thoughts were going to keep me awake all night. I glanced over at my new computer and thought about trying out my writing software, but I wasn’t in the mood to learn a new program. I felt like putting words down, taking some of my thoughts and transcribing them. Though I’d never really been into journaling.
I reached over to my desk and picked up the new Moleskine notebook my parents had bought me. Dad said lots of famous people used them including van Gogh, Hemingway, and Picasso and that if there was a writing tool that could inspire me, that would be it. I hoped he was right.
If nothing else, it was a really nice book, despite it being plain black; it just had a really good weight to it and made me feel like if I wrote in it, I would suddenly be the serious writer I wanted to be. It sounds stupid to feel that from a regular notebook, but maybe Dad was onto something with that inspiration thing.
I grabbed my gel pen and clicked the end, arranging the barrel between my fingers, kind of getting excited about what I was going to write.
Because I was totally going to write.
Any moment now, I was going to be hit with inspiration.
Something seriously Pulitzer-worthy was going to come out of me riiiiiight now.
Or now.
You know, inspiration is welcome to hit. Now.
Now?
Or not. After four minutes, several sighs and countless clicks of the pen (enough that even I was getting annoyed), I put the notebook down and got out of bed to grab the old copy of Elements of Style that Mom had assigned as part of my English learning. It was pretty dry reading, but if I was going to be a writer, grammar and style were things I was going to have to study, so it was a necessity. And if nothing else, it would definitely put me to sleep.
As I was reaching for the book, I glanced out the window, about to chide myself for looking at what would surely be an empty bench considering what time it was, when I saw him. It was mostly dark, although there were a few security lights that lit the space enough that I could see the outline of him sitting there. Without being able to see the detail of his face, I knew it was him by his rigid posture.
I turned off my lamp, shrouding my room in darkness so I could watch him without him being able to see me. I knelt on my bed and wished I had Dad’s binoculars, but wasn’t about to leave my room to get them; what would I possibly say if someone saw me? Oh yeah, Dad, I’m just peeping on the mysterious, yet hot military guy who really seems to enjoy sitting like a statue on that bench over there. Not creepy or weird at all! Maybe if you let me out of the house once in a while, I wouldn’t resort to being a creepy voyeur.
As I watched, I couldn’t make out if he had his earbuds in, but even if he did, it seemed so odd that he would just sit outside on the bench in the cold. And after watching him for a while, it was obvious he hadn’t come outside to smoke.
“What are you doing?” I whispered, determined to figure it out.
But figuring it out wouldn’t happen that night; forty-seven minutes later he still hadn’t moved. After four yawns in as many minutes, I tore my eyes away and tucked myself into bed.
~ ♥ ~
My eyes opened and I was sure it had to be close to dawn, but a glance at the clock told me I’d been asleep for approximately thirty-seven minutes. Awesome. Before I even realized what I was doing, I sat up and looked out the window, but the guy was gone. It was almost like he teleported to and from the bench.
I was about to lie back down, but first grabbed my cell phone out of my underwear drawer and turned it on, keeping it on mute. There were a few texts from Kaylee, just saying hi. She knew I was limited in when I could text her back, and I figured I wouldn’t get a hold of her now with it being so late, but at least I could send her a message so she didn’t think I’d fallen off the planet again.
Hi. Sorry I haven’t been around much.
I could see right away that she was typing back, making me excited about being able to talk to her. How sad that the highlight of my life was now real-time texting with my friend.
HI! So good to hear from you! she sent back. How are you doing? How’s your Christmas?
I hope I didn’t wake you? I typed.
No. I was up late with D. Watching movies.
My Christmas was okay. Robert surprised us by coming home. Low key dinner. Nice gifts. You?
Great. You should have seen it. Dinner would have made Martha Stewart feel inadequate!
I smiled at that. Did the Queen come?
No, but plenty of other VIPs have been in and out since I got here. It’s crazy. I never thought I’d get nervous around famous people considering my parents, but these are ROYALS!
I couldn’t wait to hear her stories and hoped there would be a time when we could actually get together. What did Declan give you?
*sigh* We promised only to make each other gifts. He knows I don’t have any money.
I waited for her to continue, watching the cursor flash as she typed.
I made him a really nice picture frame a
nd put a picture of us in it. Then she sent across a selfie where she was laughing and looking at the camera while his face was smooshed into her one cheek, his big hand on the other, obviously giving her a kiss just as she took the picture. It was just about the cutest thing I’d ever seen, showing exactly how happy they were, and was so much nicer than the posed pictures of them that had been published in the newspapers.
That is so sweet! I’m sure he loved it.
He did. At least he said he did. He also has the pic as his phone background.
I rest my case! What did he make for you?
He totally cheated. He “made” me a Pandora bracelet.
Sneaky bugger!
No kidding! She sent back and I could almost hear her indignant tone.
I bet you hate it, I typed.
More than you can imagine. But I can’t seem to take it off or stop looking at it. Wait till you see it. He picked the best charms.
I can’t wait. I typed, even though it kind of made me sad thinking about how complicated it would be just to get together with her to see her bracelet. I was truly happy for her, though. Declan was really such a good guy. My mind began to drift, making me wonder what kind of Christmas gifts I might have received if I hadn’t disappeared from Rosewood. What would Dave have bought me? Would Jared have gotten me a cute gift appropriate for someone who had friend-zoned him? Would Brady have secretly handed me a card at one of our private equestrian practices? Assuming he was all better and was back to teaching. I sighed and then looked down, realizing I’d missed two texts from Kaylee.
I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking about what I got, was her first message.
And then maybe she got paranoid when I didn’t answer right away, because then she’d sent, I’m such a bad friend.
No you’re not! I typed quickly. I dropped my phone. Sorry!
So how have you been keeping busy?
Knitting a little, I typed and then hesitated for half a minute because there was so much I wanted to tell her. About missing everyone and the guilt over how I left and then about the guy in the courtyard and even about that whole wanting to write thing. It would be better if I could tell her in person. But then figured what the hell—who knows if or when I’d ever be able to just hang out with her again. Also, I’ve been thinking about writing.
Making Ripples Page 5