The Violet Hour (The Violet Hour Series)

by Wells, Andrea L

  “Ohhhh… a girl?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he joked, never taking his fingers away from the guitar strings.

  “Well, the song… it’s about a girl?” I probed.

  “Sure,” he agreed. “It is about a girl.”

  “The girl?” I asked, the words ready on the tip of my tongue.

  “The girl? Someday, I suppose,” he replied with another thought-filled smile. I let the words linger in the air while trying to decide how to investigate without being too forward.

  “What’s her name?” I asked, settling for something simple, obvious. He chuckled.

  “I don’t know,” he paused. “But as soon as I do, I’ll be sure to let you know.” He stopped playing long enough to pull his blue eyes from the strings and glance up at me.

  My heart stopped.

  “Why don’t you sit down?” he offered, “I don’t bite.”

  Something about his pearly white smile and the way he drew out the last three words with his lips made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. Then again, maybe the breeze had picked up. Either way, I was mesmerized.

  Luke began strumming again and I sat down beside him. He continued playing, though the tone of his song changed and I was lost in the heavy harmony. I watched him play. I watched him sing. I watched him. He wore light denim jeans with a tight, dingy-white thermal covered by plaid flannel. Every piece of fabric on his skin complimented every single feature he had. His hair swept just above his eyes – so close that when he blinked, the tips of his hair moved with his eyelashes. He wasn’t model-looking gorgeous like Brody – he was better. He was attractive in a real way. Just an exceptionally authentic, good-looking man.

  I was so caught up watching him, I didn’t realize he’d quit playing at first.

  “Did you like that one?” he asked, startling me.

  “Yeah,” I said too quickly.

  “Good ‘cause I thought you weren’t paying any attention so I quit playing,” he kidded with a grin.

  “No, that’s not it at all, I just…” I didn’t know what to say.

  “It’s okay, I understand. You’ve got a lot on your mind.”

  I simply smiled in agreement.

  “So…” he said, giving me the chance to change the subject.

  Looking deep into his eyes, I decided to take a chance.

  “It’s been pretty rough, especially these past few days. Everywhere I turn, something reminds me of her.”

  “I know how you feel,” he sighed. Those simple words flooded me with the most comfort I’d felt since arriving. “If you ever need to talk about it – or – not talk about it,” he paused, locking his eyes with mine, “just let me know.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered, “That means a lot.”

  “So…” he began again. This time, I welcomed the change of topic.

  “So, tell me something about yourself, Luke Callahan. Tell me something that no one else knows about you.” He tensed in his chair as if my boldness had caught him off guard. Before answering, he started playing the guitar again and it seemed to relax him instantly. The rain picked up and played alongside.

  “Well, I don’t have too many secrets,” he hedged.

  “Then, just tell me everything.”

  “Well, I’m eighteen. I was born in Arizona on March seventeenth…”

  “No, no, no,” I interrupted, “not your dating profile! Tell me about you – who you are, not what you are.”

  “I thought I was!” he laughed.

  “Minor details. I want to know what makes you – you.” It seemed a little deep, but was worth a shot.

  He stopped playing but I deliberately didn’t turn to meet his eyes this time. Something in the air felt different – unfamiliar. I felt the weight of his gaze on me as I slowly pulled my hair back into a ponytail.

  I was afraid to look at him, suddenly knowing that if I did, I’d never want to look away again. I held my breath forgetting what we were talking about and decided I only risked losing one thing: my heart. I opened my eyes. His smile was soft. His eyes were kind, glittering when he blinked like raindrops falling from the sky just before they hit the ground. He gave off warmth that felt like the sun emerging from a cool grey sky.

  “Logan,” he whispered, waiting for my attention. “Breathe.”

  My breath caught and Luke stood up with his guitar in one hand.

  “You’re stalling, Luke,” I said, remembering he still hadn’t told me anything about himself. He stepped toward me and leaned down, filling my vision with only his face.

  “To be continued,” he retorted with a flirtatious smile.

  I turned just in time to watch him jump through my bedroom window and back into the house. He took my breath away with him. I leaned back into my chair and noticed headlights shining through the trees. Below me, the front door opened and Luke raced into the pouring rain toward my dad’s truck. I hadn’t even realized the truck was gone. Of course, the trees could’ve been on fire around me and I probably wouldn’t have noticed with Luke around.

  While my dad, Jack and Jesse jumped out of the truck and into the barn, I pulled my phone from my pocket. As much as I didn’t want to, I needed to call Brody back after hanging up on him earlier.

  “Brody, its Logan. Look, I’m sorry about the phone call earlier. It wasn’t fair. Give me a call when you getta sec,” I said, disappointed.

  I hung up and dialed Linds.

  “Hello?”

  “Brody?” I said unsure.

  “Yeah, Logan?”

  “It is you; I thought I called Lindsey’s number. I just left you a voicemail a minute ago...”

  “It’s no big deal babe,” he interrupted, “Don’t worry about it. How are you?”

  “Doing good, good as I can be I guess. Everyone’s been really great. I was calling to talk to you about the conversation we had earlier. I just really wanna be back in California and I…”

  “It’s okay,” Brody said cutting me off again. “Don’t worry about it. I miss you too babe. You’ll be back here before you know it.”

  “Why are you whispering?” I asked.

  “Hey, I’m sorry… I’m kinda in the middle of something right now. I’m heading into a casting. Can I maybe give you a call back a little later tonight?” he whispered. Behind his voice, I thought I heard a girl say his name and the sound of running water.

  “Sure. But a casting call on Sunday? What’s that about?”

  “Last minute thing, babe, ya know.”

  “Alright. Call me later.” I wasn’t convinced I wanted him to though.

  “Alright, bye,” Brody said just before the line disconnected.

  “Bye,” I said aloud to myself.

  I scrolled through my calls and saw Lindsey’s number on top. Stupid phone, I thought. The cool breeze set chills across my face. I tossed the phone onto a pile of clothes as soon as I climbed back inside through the window. On my bed, a single flower and a note laid across my pillow. Pressing the sunflower to my nose, I opened the note:

  Logan,

  Just thought I’d write you a short note to tell you I enjoyed spending a piece of my morning with you. I’m sorry it got cut short, so I’d like to spend the afternoon with you as well. I’ll pick you up out front by the barns at 3 o’clock. We’ll get out of the house this time…

  See you soon --- Luke

  I read the note four times – at least. I folded it up neatly and put it in the top drawer of my nightstand, never taking the flower away from my nose. It didn’t really smell like a sunflower. Instead, it smelled like the sundrenched forest. It smelled like Luke. It was a scent I could easily get used to.

  Suddenly, questions flooded my mind: what should I wear? How should I do my hair? Which perfume should I put on? Just as suddenly, I stopped myself. We were just getting out of the house for the afternoon on a rainy, dreary day. This wasn’t a date.

  In the time it took me to start worrying about what I was going to do, I decided I
was going to do nothing. I wasn’t changing my clothes, my hair or my makeup. I was going to be myself. Or, should I say, I was going to be normal. My mother’s death had changed me. I didn’t know who “myself” was anymore, or what “normal” was, but this was the first step to finding out.

  I must have checked the clock every five minutes until just after two-thirty, when I finally gave up and put my book down. To calm my nerves; I decided to unpack some boxes. As I put clothes and shoes away, the reality that this was my new home became more real. I wasn’t sure what I was so nervous about, but I was at least willing to admit this much: Luke fascinated me. And, maybe I wanted to know more about what I was fascinated with. There was no harm in that.

  After I finished a box of clothes and looked at the clock: two-thirty nine. I opened the bedroom door and skipped downstairs.

  “Hey Logan!” my dad said with questioning eyes when I entered the kitchen with a smile.

  “Hey, Dad! Whatcha up to?” I asked, trying to keep my excitement in check.

  “We were just discussing heading into town to get groceries. Would you like to come with us?” my dad asked. Kate dried her hands on a towel quietly behind him, with one of her warm, inviting smiles.

  “Nah, I think I’ll stick around here and get some more unpacking done,” I lied.

  “Is there anything we can pick up for you?” Kate asked.

  “No thanks; I think I’m good.”

  “Okay, I’ll get a few things to take to school for lunch. The boys complain about the school lunches all the time,” she smiled.

  “Sounds like a plan,” I said faking enthusiasm. The word ‘school’ made my skin crawl. I had loved school before it had recently developed a new meaning for me. School used to be a place where I was the most-popular, well-liked and prettiest girl. As of Tuesday, I was just the new girl at Sheridan High.

  “We’ll be back in a couple hours or so,” my dad said interrupting my mental tirade, “and, try not to wander outside. The guys are around if you need anything.”

  Though I didn’t remember him mentioning anything about sticking around the house before, I agreed anyhow. “Alright,” I said as both of them headed toward the garage door. I felt guilty lying when I knew I had other plans. Though, if Luke was going with me, I was sure I’d be safe.

  I walked into the family room to watch my dad’s truck head down the drive but I could barely make out the taillights disappearing into the trees. The rain was sheeting down so hard it looked like waterfalls flowing from the mountains of clouds in the sky. The thought of having to walk outside made me shiver. It dawned on me to grab a jacket a moment too late. The clock in the hallway chimed three.

  My cold chills turned into butterflies.

  Andrea Wells – The Violet Hour

  Chapter 6

  I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt on to protect my hair but it was a lost cause against the cold, soaking rain. By the time I made it to the edge of the barn, I was drenched down to my skin. When I rounded the corner, I saw Luke sitting in a classic sports car waiting for me. He grinned from behind the wheel and jumped out, running to the passenger side. By the time I made it to him, Luke had the door open for me. I got in and immediately checked myself in the mirror before he made it back inside. My hair looked as if I’d just stepped out of the shower. Luke jumped in as I flipped the visor shut.

  “Don’t worry, Logan, there‘s no one here you need to impress,” he joked.

  “Don’t worry, Luke, I wasn’t even trying,” I joked back.

  He started the engine and turned the knob on the heat all the way up, while I watched his every move. I smiled because I knew I couldn’t form words. His hair was dripping like liquid caramel down his face and I felt the sudden urge to reach out and comb my fingers through it. I sat in complete silence as he drove through the trees down the driveway.

  I thought about Brody, about my relationship with Brody, and the conversation I’d had with him earlier. Something was wrong. If I was being honest with myself, the whole relationship felt wrong. It was easy to see that since being with Luke felt so exciting. I hated the fact that I was comparing them like they were two choices on a menu. I didn’t want to treat them, or any other person, like that.

  Maybe, I just needed to stop thinking so far into it. I was acting like I had a choice. Like both these guys really liked me and I had to pick between the two.

  “What are you thinking about?” Luke asked, startling me.

  “Nothing… really.”

  “Lie.”

  I looked over at him, surprised. “What?”

  “Lie – that was a lie. You get a small wrinkle between your eyes when you’re deep in thought. Just like the little wrinkle you have right now,” he stated, matter-of-factly.

  I let a grin leak from the corners of my mouth.

  “You should pay more attention to where you’re driving,” I teased.

  He broke his gaze and put his eyes back on the road. I noticed we were heading in the opposite direction of town, toward the mountains.

  “So, where are you taking me?”

  “Nowhere in particular. Just for a drive. If you haven’t noticed, you live in some very beautiful country. I wanted to show you a little piece.”

  “When did you have time to write me that note?” I asked.

  “Did you get the flower?”

  “I did, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he answered, smoothly. “I left it when I came back inside again. You were still on the porch. You’re pretty oblivious to your surroundings, you know?”

  “Well, if you came back, why didn’t you just talk to me instead?”

  “Because your dad came inside with me,” he said as he looked out his window. “He needed my help with a few things.”

  “Did he say something to you about me or us?” I asked, pausing for a second to enjoy the idea of the word ‘us.’ “You seem a little uneasy about him.”

  “No, nothing directed toward me in particular. He talked to my brothers and I before you arrived though. He told us what happened and said that you’d been through enough and to give you space. He’s happy that you’re here. And, even though it may not be what you want at the moment, I think he hopes it will be something you want in the future,” he answered calmly.

  “I don’t really know what I want, Luke,” I said, trying to be honest with him and honest with myself.

  “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “Thanks,” I mumbled under my breath.

  “Really, you’re young. Who ever said you need to know what you want at such a young age?”

  “Please, you’re not even a year older than me,” I snapped.

  “Well, you know what I mean… we’re young.” I didn’t say anything back right away. I only thought about how kind he was trying to be with me.

  “I’m sorry,” I finally said. “You’re trying to be sweet and comforting and I’m getting stuck on stupid, unimportant details. I don’t know how I feel about everything that’s been going on lately in my life, but I do know one thing: I’m glad I can talk to you about it. So… thank you,” I said, turning to look at him. He smiled with his eyes. It felt warm and genuine.

  “This is probably going to sound cheesy, but I’m glad you’re here and I’m glad you feel that way,” he confessed.

  The longer it took for me to say something back, the more his smile faded from his eyes. My heart pounded so loudly in my chest, I could feel it in my ears.

  “That’s not cheesy,” I admitted. His whole face glowed with a smile now.

  “Fair enough.”

  Heavy clouds still hung over the mountain tops, but the rain had lightened up into a soft drizzle. We continued to drive in silence and my thoughts returned to my mental ‘Luke vs. Brody’ comparison chart. I decided I no longer needed the chart. There was no comparison.

  “Are we almost to this place you’re taking me?”

  “Almost, it’s just an area I like to go to when I want to be a
lone.”

  I was just about to ask why when he quickly added, “I thought you might like it as much as I do.”

  “Fair enough.”

  He flashed his pearly whites at me.

  “What kind of car is this?” I asked, trying to make conversation.

  “It’s a 1967 Chevelle. It was my father’s car. I just had it painted black last weekend. It used to be cherry red like the leather seats,” Luke explained, staring out the windshield sounding hopeful that I was listening to him talk about his car. I couldn’t help but listen when he spoke, no matter the topic.

  “My mom’s favorite color was red and my dad’s was black. The car reminds me so much of them, I can practically see them sitting inside it when it’s parked in the garage. My dad always wanted to repaint it black – just never got around to it before he passed.”

  “Speaking of your parents,” I hesitated, but pressed on. “What happened to them if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “I’m not very good at talking about it,” he said, pausing to take a long breath. “I miss them every single day. I’m not sure it ever gets easier.”

  I could hear the pain in his voice and felt that much closer to him. He seemed guarded, but it was familiar – it was the same type of guarded I’d recognized in myself since my mom’s funeral.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, thinking of my mother, holding back my own pain.

  “Don’t be,” he said.

  “I guess I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

  “It’s alright that you did. I know I can be defensive. It’s just hard for me to talk about what happened. It’s still too painful.”

  I didn’t say anything more and long moments of silence passed between us. There wasn’t anything worthy of saying. I knew exactly how he felt, but there was no need to tell him that. Coming out of his silent trance, he ran his fingers through his damp hair and turned toward me.

  “Do you want to talk about your mother?” he asked cautiously.

  “Well,” I paused, deciding I could do this. “She was the most gorgeous women in the world, my very best friend. We did everything together and I spent as much time with her as with my friends. People said I looked so much like her that they’d often get us confused. I guess no one will say that ever again, though.”