Serenade

by Heather McKenzie

  “Maybe you’re a two flower type of girl?” he said and handed me another.

  I had to say something--anything. My mind reeled. “Do you ever wonder what on earth you are here for? What it is you are meant to do?” I asked bluntly. The question just burst from my mouth without any thought, but it seemed oddly appropriate.

  “I know exactly why I’m here and what I’m meant to do,” he said with so much conviction it gave me goose bumps.

  I looked at him again. His eyes—were they blue? So bright, deep, mesmerizing, and perfectly positioned with a nose just the right size between them. His jawline was sharp, perfectly sculpted, and light, golden-brown hair hung loosely around his slightly tanned face where the most perfect, small scar decorated his cheekbone.

  He was the most beautiful person I had ever seen.

  I begged my mouth not to say this truth out aloud. “I wish I knew what I was meant to do,” I managed to say instead.

  “One day, you’ll discover what to fight for, and when you do, you won’t let anything stop you.”

  His words seemed prophetic. I felt the weight of them settle over me as he took the flowers back from my hands, and I noticed his were covered in cuts and scrapes. They were strong and rugged looking, like hands that had worked hard, but he was young, maybe only in his early twenties. He placed the flowers in the center of his palm and blew on them, sending white petals into the air. Suddenly, a rogue breeze burst through the night, picking up the petals and swirling them madly right before our eyes.

  “Well, this is strange,” I said in awe.

  Then the wind stopped, and the petals drifted to the ground.

  “Uh, yeah, really strange,” he said, “I wonder if Mother Nature is trying to tell us something.”

  I didn’t know about Mother Nature, but common sense was yelling at me to get up. But when another quick glance at his eyes pulled me in so deep I couldn’t look away, I had to confirm their color… blue? Yes. Definitely blue. Like the summer sky.

  “Um, may I…?” he said, and he slowly reached for my face to wipe at a tear on my cheek. My breath caught in my throat; I didn’t even realize I’d been crying.

  “I better go,” I said meekly, but I was cemented to the bench.

  He glanced at his watch, looked around, and then suddenly became nervous. “Oh, yeah, I better get going, uh, back to work,” he said, standing up.

  I noticed he was wearing heavy hiking boots, certainly not something a security guard in a suit would wear. “Tell me, who are you really? Because you’re definitely not a gardener.”

  He looked at me, wide-eyed with shock, and then he shook his head with a smile. “I’m just a regular guy trying to do what’s right,” he said intensely, and then he took my hand to help me up, but once I was standing, he didn’t let go.

  One part of me wanted to slap him for being so audacious and the other felt like nothing in the world was more important than allowing my hand to stay in his. I didn’t move, didn’t speak, and probably didn’t breathe, either. This was crazy. If this is what people meant when they described falling for someone, it was certainly an accurate analogy. As I looked in his eyes, it felt like the ground disappeared from under my feet, and there was no stopping the resulting descent into the unknown.

  “Please tell me your name,” he said quietly.

  I thought about it. Maybe I would yell it really loud so that every pretentious guest in that ballroom could hear it, too, but footsteps were approaching. They were heavy, loud, determined, and accompanied by Oliver’s agitated voice yelling for Davis.

  I quickly pulled my hand away from the stranger’s, and then I wished I hadn’t.

  “Please, just tell me your name.” he said urgently as he began backing away.

  I looked down the path to see Oliver’s shadow. “It’s Kaya,” I whispered.

  But the stranger was already gone.

  He followed a blueprint of the estate to the girl’s room. It was tucked away on the fifth floor at the far end of a dark hallway with bars that covered every window. A worn leather couch, its state denoting it must be consistently occupied, was opposite the door. Was there a guard usually posted here, too? He didn’t think she’d be that heavily protected.

  Thirty-two minutes.

  He was overwhelmed by the sheer size of the room. It was more like an apartment suite than a teen’s bedroom. There was a sitting area with couches and a fireplace in the middle with a kitchenette off to the side and what looked like a study area next to a balcony. He frantically searched the room, but he found nothing; not a schedule, day planner, phone book, pictures… nothing.

  At the far end of the room, there was a single bed next to a massive wall of science-fiction books. This must be where a nanny or another guard slept. There wasn’t anything useful there, either. Next to the bookcase, a set of double doors opened into a bedroom where a pristinely made king-sized bed, a vanity table, stone fireplace, and another bathroom were surrounded by red-and-gold wallpaper. He pulled open drawers, looked under the mattress, and searched through the closet for anything that could be of use to him. Did she attend classes somewhere? Visit friends? Have any appointments? Go on holidays? There weren’t any diaries or pictures or anything he thought a teenage girl would have. He even went through the medicine cabinet. Inside were painkillers, that pink stuff for acid reflux, heavy sedatives, and a pack of birth control pills that hadn’t been opened yet—and not one item had a doctor or patient name. Only a Lowen Pharmaceutical logo was stamped onto the lids.

  He started to panic.

  Heavy velvet drapes hung ceiling to floor next to the bed, and he pushed them aside to discover more bar-covered windows; this place was more like a prison than a bedroom.

  Twenty-six minutes…

  He headed back to the desk, thinking maybe he’d missed something, but sheet music and books scattered around a grand piano caught his eye. He flipped through every piece of paper, but they contained nothing but blurs and dots. Frustrated, he tried to access the home screen of a laptop sitting on the piano lid, but it was password protected.

  He couldn’t go back empty handed, yet there was literally not one personal, useful item of the girl’s in the entire suite. Maybe she didn’t exist… maybe it was all a big lie…

  He turned to leave and accidentally knocked over a cup of pens that had been left haphazardly too close to the edge of the piano lid. Cursing his carelessness, he bent to pick them up and put them back when he noticed a brass key had tumbled to his feet. In a last-ditch effort, he slid the key into the piano bench. The lid popped open.

  Jackpot.

  It was filled with poems, letters, a photograph of a dark-haired woman too old to be the girl, and little boxes with paper hearts in them. A brochure for something called The Death Race sat on top. Someone had written, “Use the fake name Katy Adams, don’t forget!” on the front of it.

  He unfolded the slightly tattered paper and read.

  Welcome to The Death Race!

  Every September in Banff, Alberta, racers come to the Canadian Rockies to cheat death in one of the world’s toughest adventure races. Athletes push themselves to the limits of their endurance in a rugged setting with breathtaking scenery. They run a 125 km course over three mountain summits that include 17,000 feet of elevation change and a major river crossing at Hell’s Gate, battling heat, cold, altitude, and themselves. There are no big prizes for winning, finishing is hard enough, and the bragging rights are priceless…

  He leafed to the back where a paperclip held a registration form.

  Name: Kaya Lowen Katy AdamsAge: 18

  Height: 5’8”Weight: 110 lbs.

  Category: Solo RacerConfirmation: # 6543RET

  He couldn’t believe his luck; this was exactly what he needed. He memorized every detail on the form, and then he carefully put it back as he’d found it.

  Fifteen minutes…

  He trekked back through the halls, flashed his fake ID tag to the guards, and gained access onc
e again to the crowded ballroom while smiling and carrying a silver tray loaded with canapés. As casually as possible, he weaved through the over-perfumed and over-made guests, and then made his way out into the garden. At the end of the path, a small door hidden in the stone wall was his escape. He pushed away the tightly woven vines and pulled on the handle—still locked. All his gear for rappelling down to the river below was on the other side of that door. He hoped Seth’s fishing buddy would keep his word and open it at the pre-arranged time.

  Ten minutes…

  The click of fast-approaching footsteps made him duck for cover. Someone stopped a few feet from where he was hiding and began to pace back and forth. He dug out the knife he’d stolen from the kitchen and hoped he wouldn’t have to use it.

  It was a woman, and she was alone. He peered at her from behind a huge Mayday tree for a better look. A shiny dress hugged her slim body, and long, dark hair fell past her shoulders to a tiny waist. She seemed upset, and her chest heaved slightly as she tried to catch her breath. She paced back and forth, and then she stopped, stared up at the sky, and stumbled backward. He caught a glimpse of milky-white shoulders and a hint of her toned thigh peeking through a slit in the dress. She turned toward him, and he thought he’d been caught. He steadied the knife… but when he saw her face, he forgot why he even had it.

  Her features were defined, but the edges were soft. Glowing skin covered high cheekbones, and a hint of pink was noticeable on them even in this light. Her nose was small and dainty, her lips full and berry red, and her wide eyes seemed on the verge of tears, which made them sparkle. She was gorgeous. He was captivated.

  The knife fell to the ground.

  She said something. Did she speak to him? The whole world seemed to come to a grinding halt—he had to meet her even if it meant risking everything. His body moved toward her like it wasn’t his own, and as if in a dream, he found himself sitting next to her, wiping at a tear on her cheek. The heat of her skin under his fingertips and the look in her eyes woke up his heart. Suddenly, he wanted to soothe her, comfort her, and protect her from whatever caused her to run out alone into the night.

  He plucked a blossom from the tree and handed it to her, and then watched as the petals got caught up in a sudden mad swirl of wind, rushing and spinning just like the insane feeling starting in his chest. She didn’t believe he was a gardener. He liked that. When he spoke to her, he was barely aware of the words coming out of his mouth, and when she responded, his entire body tingled. He was absolutely compelled beyond reason to hold her hand, and when he did, the most startling, earth shattering revelation hit him with full force: she was the reason he was here on this earth.

  Two minutes…

  He didn’t believe in luck. He didn’t believe in fate. He certainly didn’t believe in love at first sight, but there she was, standing in front of him, wearing an emerald dress the same color as her eyes.

  Time’s up.

  “Well, it was a good evening, wasn’t it? A huge success… and nobody died!”

  Henry was so happy his good mood could have been infectious if his mere presence hadn’t been such a complete drag.

  “Please sit down, darling,” he said as he motioned toward the ominous high-backed leather chair in front of his desk.

  I had never been in his office at night; it was nice and quiet without the assistants, save Sindra, of course, and the ringing phones. I sat, but my head was in the clouds. The meeting with the stranger in the garden was so surreal—every second of it replayed over and over in my mind. I felt different—really different—like a life-changing event had occurred.

  “I wanted to give this to you in private,” Henry said, fishing something out of his desk drawer.

  It was a little blue box with a red bow tied around it. I knew that inside that box would be an investment for him and another piece of useless jewelry for me to add to my wall safe. I noticed Sindra’s eyes widen in excitement from her perch on the sofa.

  “Wait…” I said to Henry, and I put my hand up, “I have to ask you for something first. I know you might not understand, but please, hear me out.”

  Sindra rolled her eyes and shook her head as I fished the brochure out of my bra—it had been tremendously difficult getting it out of the piano bench while Oliver and Stephan weren’t looking, and since I had no pockets… I tried to straighten it back out, but my hands were shaking, and it didn’t help that my skin was still tingling from the stranger’s touch. “This is what I want for my birthday. I appreciate all the gifts, I really do, but I really just want to be able to do this,” I said, putting the brochure in Henry’s hands. The Death Race was scrawled across the front in jagged, hand-drawn letters. As Henry looked over the paper, I wished they’d called it something a little less dramatic.

  “What the heck is this, Kaya… really?” he said, scanning the crumpled page. “Sindra, is this what you were telling me about earlier?”

  “Uh huh,” she said sourly.

  Henry read the front of the brochure out loud. “The Death Race is a twenty-four hour race through the Rocky Mountains on a 125-kilometer course, and… blah… blah… Kaya, this is positively insane!”

  “Yes,” I said, “which is exactly why I want to do it.”

  “Why? Why on earth would someone want to put themselves through this?”

  “It’s good to have goals, purpose, something to work toward. I need to be more than just a rat in your—or I guess it’s technically my cage. Besides, allowing me to do this might make me feel more agreeable on my twenty-first birthday.”

  Sindra tried to contain a laugh when, for once, Henry had nothing to say. He just continued reading, shaking his head, while Sindra watched over the rim of her wine glass.

  “Please Henr—uh, Dad. Let me do this. I have already entered—under a false name of course—and I’m strong. I’ll be totally fine.”

  I didn’t mention that I hadn’t even told Oliver or Stephan yet because they most certainly wouldn’t have agreed. I needed Henry to back me up first, and then they’d have no choice but to go along with it.

  Henry sighed, and then he leaned back against the desk and put down the brochure. “You really want this?”

  “Yes.”

  A sly grin began to spread across his polished face. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Sorry? What… do you mean… no?”

  “I’m sorry that I have to give you a gift that’s a little different than I’d originally planned.” He went behind his desk and pushed a piece of wood paneling on the wall. It popped open to reveal a small silver box with metal clasps. Alarm bells went off in my mind. I was pretty sure it wasn’t more jewelry when he carefully placed the heavy case in my lap.

  “I had this specifically designed for you. I’ve had it for a while, and I guess now is as good a time as any to give it to you. So here’s the deal: you wear this, and you can participate in that Death Trap race.”

  My skin started to crawl as I tentatively undid the latches. Inside were two items resting on blue satin cushions. One looked like an industrial-strength iPod or minicomputer of some sort, and the other was a thick, gold band in an oval shape with two-half moon etchings carved into the precious metal. It seemed too large to be a bracelet, but it did appear to be jewelry. I picked it up. It was inlaid with strange stones on the inside and little rubies on the outside. It wasn’t ugly, but it certainly wasn’t the type of jewelry Henry usually bought. I looked at him, completely confused.

  “I don’t know what—”

  He took it from me lovingly, like it was a precious pet. Then, with a small pin, he pushed one of the stones. It clicked and beeped. “Now it’s activated,” he said.

  Sindra faked a cough and looked away when I glanced at her. “Activated? What are you talking about?” I asked, feeling my heart rate speed up.

  Henry smiled that lopsided grin I had come to dread. “It’s on. It’s working. And once it’s on your ankle and locked into place, it will start transmitting. It’s
a tracking device, Kaya. If you go anywhere outside the estate perimeter, it will alert security. And this…” He took the other piece out of the case. “Will tell us exactly where to look. I will always know where you are. I will always be able to find you.”

  It felt as if my stomach had risen into my throat. “You can’t do this to me!”

  He put his hand up. “Oh, yes I can. You will wear it, and you will stay safe. Actually, everyone around you will stay safe. Do you understand what I mean by everyone, Kaya?”

  I did. He meant Oliver and Stephan. Love is a weakness.

  We stared each other down.

  This time I blinked first.

  “So, what do you say, kiddo? Shall we put on this pretty little trinket? It really is quite in style.”

  I gulped back all the horrible things I wanted to say as he kneeled before me and locked the device in place around my ankle. “Sindra, why are you letting him do this?” I asked, fighting back tears. She looked uncomfortable, but she didn’t respond. I stared at Henry, my father, too stunned to fight, too angry to even utter a single word.

  “There. See? It’s not so bad!” he said, “and indestructible, I might add. I had it made of tungsten at our new lab in Mexico. It’s gold plated, and I added some gems so it would look nice.”

  I wanted to punch him. Just plant one square on his smug jaw and knock that self-satisfied grin right off his face.

  “I’m just keeping you safe, Kaya, because I love you.” He stood, gave me a kiss on the forehead and added, “And so, your wish is granted, my darling. You are free to enter that race. I don’t really agree with it, but Sindra has assured me that you will be safe and heavily escorted. Regardless, there is no possible way you’ll last longer than an hour out there, anyway.” He lifted a crystal glass to his lips and shot back some amber liquid. “Happy Birthday,” he said with a cocky grin and strolled out of the room.