“Becky,” I said loudly enough to wake her up. She barely even stirred. “Becky! We’re here!”
She bounced up instantly. “What?” she groaned. “We’re still on the freeway.” She rolled her head back down against the head rest.
“For about fifteen minutes,” I said.
“Really?” She didn’t even sound tired anymore. All of her energy instantly returned.
“Oh, I can’t wait to meet your mom,” she said. “I can’t wait for Christmas dinner. It’s going to be so fun.”
“Oh, yeah.” I laughed. “Right up until my mom pulls out the family albums.”
She laughed. “Oh, that’s going to be the best part.”
“Thanks,” I joked. “That’s encouraging.”
It was like my mom had a time clock perfectly in her head and ran out to the driveway as soon as she saw the car pull up. She didn’t wait two seconds before pulling me into a hug as hard as she could.
“Mom,” I choked out, “have you slept at all?”
She laughed and let me go. “You must be Becky.”
“Nice to meet you,” Becky said, chipper, lending my mom her hand.
“Oh, don’t be silly,” my mom said. “You’re practically family.” She gave Becky a hug that looked just as tight as the one she gave me.
My mom grabbed the bags out of the trunk and never once stopped smiling. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“So am I. I promised to visit, and here I am.”
“But it’s better than that,” Becky chimed in. “Here we are—on Christmas Eve.”
I laughed. “True.”
“You look tired,” my mom said. “Take a nap, and I’ll wake you up in a bit.”
“Oh, there is no way we could go to sleep,” Becky yelled. “This is too exciting.”
She was running all over, admiring the bells and wreathes my mom had put up. She even had to touch all the little ornaments on the tree and climb up and down the stairs, looking at the garland my mom had wrapped around the banister.
“Speak for yourself.” I chuckled. “You were passed out for over eight hours.”
She just turned and smiled at me, following my mom into the living room.
The smells brought me back, and I instantly felt a sense of comfort and happiness wash over me.
“I hope you don’t mind if I take a nap,” I said to Becky.
“Not at all. I was just about to ask your mom to show me some old photo albums.”
I stuck my tongue out at her, but she just laughed. “Would it be okay if I used your shower first?” Becky asked.
“Of course.” My mom laughed. “You don’t need to ask.”
I led Becky upstairs and showed her where the bathroom was. I talked to my mom for the hour Becky was in there. We talked mostly about school and the play coming up. My mom was thrilled to hear Becky had landed the lead. I just knew she’d end up with a great part, and I couldn’t wait to see her perform.
“How’s your dad?”
“Oh, he’s great to tell the truth,” I said. “Didn’t seem disappointed or surprised that I was leaving him on Christmas.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” she said, laughing.
Becky came downstairs in a pair of sweat pants and a black tank. “You know, it’s a little colder than I expected for California.”
I laughed. “It’s winter.”
“Thanks, Jane,” she said sarcastically. “I wasn’t sure of that.”
I laughed. “Come here in the summer. You’d kill to be cold.”
We sat on the couch, looking at old pictures until my eyes felt too heavy to stay open.
“I’m going to take a shower myself,” I said. “Then I’ll be in my room.”
“Okay, honey. I’ll wake you up in a bit.”
“Thanks.”
My room was exactly the same except everything was empty. The old bed sheets hadn’t changed, it was still the purple and pink floral, and the pale pink curtains were still up as well. I decided to focus on my room after I got some sleep; that way I could enjoy it more.
My mom came in and woke me up around six.
“Jane? You want something to eat?” she asked, peeking inside.
“Oh my gosh!” I said sleepily. “I would. Thanks. Did you have a nice talk with Becky?”
She laughed. “For about an hour until she fell asleep on the couch.”
I smiled. “Figured.”
I woke Becky up and told her it was dinner time.
“Great,” she said, stretching. “Did your mom cook?”
“Of course.” I laughed.
My mom had to ask if Becky wanted anything else to eat.
“No favorites,” she answered. “Anything is fine.”
“Fried chicken is fine then?”
She laughed. “I love chicken.”
“Perfect.”
“Come on,” I said. “I already have the table set.”
“This is like a story book,” she whispered.
“What are you talking about?”
“You sit at the table for dinner. It’s not like that at my house. We fend for ourselves, and I usually eat in my room.”
“Well, this is the way our family eats, so it’s the way you’ll eat.” I smiled.
“Did you just call me family?”
I laughed. “Come on, Becky. Like you didn’t know I always saw you as my sister.”
She laughed. “I love this place.”
After dinner, my mom let me open one gift from her.
“Tradition,” I told Becky. “One gift on Christmas Eve and the rest in the morning.”
“The rest?”
I laughed. “My mom has this tendency to buy me a million gifts.”
“And don’t think I forgot you, Becky,” she said.
“No way!” Becky squealed. “You got me a gift?”
“More than one. Open this one.”
She handed her a red bag. Becky practically tore through it to find a beautiful red sweater.
“I wasn’t sure of your favorite color,” she said. “I know Jane likes red, and I thought you might too.”
“I love it. It’s so beautiful.”
She put it on right away over her black tank top. “Oh, and it fits.” I could tell she was trying not to cry. I didn’t realize how touched she must have been. I felt selfish for not realizing how wonderful I had it.
My mom gave me a long crushed velvet dress. It was black with red around the neckline and cuffs.
“I want to see you in something a bit more…feminine this year,” she said.
“Thanks,” I said and leaned over to hug her. “I love it.”
And I did. As much as I hated dresses, I would definitely wear it for her.
In the morning, Becky came in my room to wake me up.
“Jane!” she yelled, bouncing on the bed. “Jane, wake up! It’s Christmas.” It reminded me of Danny when we were little. So much I almost heard his voice behind hers.
“Becky, it’s barely light outside.”
She laughed. “The sun came up an hour ago. Get up.”
I rolled over and smiled at her, still with my eyes closed. “You are unbelievable.”
“So we have to open presents in our pajamas, right?” she shrieked. “Then get dressed for Christmas breakfast and Christmas dinner and Christmas guests.”
I just started laughing. “Don’t get too excited. We don’t have many guests coming over.”
“That’s okay. I’m having my first real Christmas. I won’t be picky.”
I smiled and crawled out of bed. Becky raced through brushing her teeth and barely pulled a comb through her hair before racing down the stairs to see my mom still rearranging the stockings by the fireplace.
“You’re up early,” she sang.
“Thank Becky for that,” I groaned, walking down the stairs slowly.
My mom laughed. “Are you going to fall asleep between gifts, Jane?”
I smiled. “Hope not.”
T
he stockings were stuffed with candy, makeup, gloves, socks, and other things my mom thought I would like. Becky was ecstatic. She poured everything out and plowed through it like a child. She made me laugh.
We opened about five gifts each, mostly clothes, and of course, my mom had to continue to restock my bookshelves. Becky gave her about ten hugs and kept giggling and tearing through packages.
“You know, we got something for you, Mom.”
“You did?”
“Oh my God!” Becky yelled. “I can’t believe I forgot. I’ll be right back. She raced upstairs and came back down with a green gift bag and a package.
“This one’s from Jane,” she said, handing her the bag.
I had bought her a red sweater. Funny, it was almost the same one she bought for Becky.
“Oh, I love it,” she said. “Now we can match.”
Becky laughed. “Okay, now open mine.”
Not even I knew what she had bought. She wouldn’t tell me.
“I wrapped it myself.”
I had never seen my mom’s face light up the way it did when she saw what Becky had done for her. I thought she was going to cry.
“It’s a scrapbook,” Becky said. “That’s Jane her second day in North Bend. I don’t remember what she was laughing at.”
“Probably you,” I teased.
She flipped through all the pages of pictures as Becky explained what was going on and who our friends in the background were.
“There are a lot of blank pages, so you can continue it later on.”
My mom smiled and hugged her. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you like it,” Becky answered, still sounding happy and cheerful.
“Like it?” she choked out. “I love it. It’s beautiful. Sort of like a gift for all of us.”
“Did I steal your thunder, Jane?” she whispered. She wasn’t smiling, though. She actually sounded worried.
“Don’t be silly,” I said. “I’m glad you can make my mom react that way.”
She smiled and sighed. “Good. So am I.”
We didn’t have many guests over like I told Becky. Mr. and Mrs. Hunter from next door stopped by for a while and brought us cookies. My mom’s old friend Leslie stayed for breakfast. I hadn’t seen her since I was about ten. She had to go on and on about how big I got and how beautiful and grown up I looked. Becky jabbered the whole time and couldn’t get over how good the breakfast quiche was. Immediately after breakfast, she was looking forward to Christmas ham with all of the other things she dreamed of. I loved doing this for her. I knew next year had to be like this too.
We stayed four more days after Christmas. Becky stayed in the guest room but would sneak through the hallway and come into my room anyway. She would just sit with me and talk until we fell asleep. It was like really having a sister. I wished we could just adopt her. She and her mom would probably both be happier that way. I brushed off the thoughts; it wasn’t a logical idea.
I was dreading the drive back home but kept my mind off of it by visiting with my mom as much as possible. We spent the last few days with her, expanding the scrapbook Becky started. I had a lot more fun with it than I thought I would. My mom promised she would put all the Christmas pictures in and send us copies for our own books.
Chapter Ten
Becky was fidgeting with the radio while trying to drive.
“Becky, stop that,” I hissed. “Keep your eyes on the road.”
“I’m fine, Jane,” she said but didn’t switch the station again.
It was getting warmer outside, and even in the car, I could feel it. California was never as cold as it should have been in the winter. I’d never seen snow. Despite it all, I was enjoying the warm weather anyway and leaned my head back and closed my eyes. I thought sleep was impossible on a bumpy freeway, but I ended up completely unconscious for quite a while, and when I awoke, Becky was switching the radio stations again.
“Here,” I said, reaching over. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll switch the stations. Keep your eyes on the—”
A loud sound interrupted, and I turned just in time to see a truck collide into the front of the Aveo and to hear Becky scream just before my vision went dark.
When I awoke, at first there was no sight. Smell, yes—the smell of smoke, leather, and gasoline. For a long time, I couldn’t open my eyes.
“Becky?” I tried to say, but my voice was muffled. Nothing was coming out. “Becky,” I tried again. Still nothing. I couldn’t hear her breathing. I couldn’t hear her crying. I couldn’t hear her at all, and I still couldn’t see anything. I tried with every ounce of strength I had left to pry my eyes open.
It was then that I finally came to and instantly felt the blood rush to my head. I noticed with great shock that I was hanging by my seat belt upside down in a completely thrashed Aveo. I tried to call Becky’s name again, but still no sound came out.
I looked down to the black seat belt tightened around my body and pushed in the red button. I fell hard onto the roof of the car. I tried to calm my heart and stop my tears as I crawled through the broken window of the car. I took one deep breath and pulled with all my strength across the glass that had been blocking my way out. Pain ripped up my chest, but I kept pulling until I found myself lying on the cracked road with the sunlight dancing over the hills and trees around me. I tried again to call for Becky, but before I got the chance, I lost consciousness, still with her name the last thing I tried to say.
I roused to a beeping sound—a constant rhythmical beeping sound. It was almost maddening. I couldn’t open my eyes though I tried over and over again. Where was Becky? Where was I?
“How is she?” I heard. It was a female voice, one I didn’t recognize.
“She’ll be all right,” a man replied. “She’s suffered a minor head injury, a few cuts and scratches, mostly from the broken glass. Other than that, nothing too serious.”
It took me long minutes to remember the last thing I saw—a blue truck and my arms in front of my face. The last thing I heard, a loud bang and Becky screaming. The car crash, the shattered window, and Becky. My God. Where was Becky?
“I’m so sorry,” I heard. That voice I knew; I would know it anywhere. Thank God. I tried to open my eyes. I pulled them open only enough to see a blurry vision of her face.
“Jane!” She was crying.
“Becky.”
“Oh God. You’re awake.”
“Becky.”
“I’m so sorry.” She took my hand. “I’m so sorry. The truck came out of nowhere. I didn’t even see it. I—”
“It’s okay,” I said.
“Are you hurting?”
“I’m fine.” I couldn’t feel anything yet.
“I was so scared for you, Jane,” she said, her voice still trembling. “They wouldn’t let me see you until they bandaged me up.”
“Am I...?”
“You hit your head,” she said, answering my unasked question. “But you will be fine. They promised me you will be fine.”
“They?”
“The doctors,” she said. “Where do you think we are?”
I saw she had a bandage on her forehead and a bloody piece of gauze wrapped around her left hand. I moved my sight past her and realized I was in a white room on a white bed. I closed my eyes and moved my hand to my forehead. Oh God. I tried to sit up but could only make it a few inches. I was definitely in a hospital room.
“Someone brought you roses,” she said. “More roses than I’ve ever seen.”
“Did you tell anyone?” I asked.
“Rudy called. I told him. He’s coming to pick us up. Your car is…well…” She paused. “I didn’t tell anyone else.”
“The car is what, Becky?”
She sighed. “Not exactly…drivable.”
“Oh man. Ethan is going to kill me!”
“Jane, I’m so sorry. I—”
“Becky, never mind. I’m not too worried about that right now. We are both alive. That’s wha
t’s important.”
She nodded.
“So, did Rudy send the flowers?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Unless he told someone, it would have to have been him. Here.”
She handed me a red envelope. In it was a white card with red roses on it. It had beautiful handwritten words.
Jane,
Feel better. I want to see you at least one more time. I’m sorry about the roses. I couldn’t resist. I hope you like them.
Love,
Aidan
Aidan? Aidan sent me roses.
“Who’s it from?” Becky asked. “Rudy?”
“No.”
“No? Really?”
“Really,” I answered, handing her the card.
“Whoa!” she said with a laugh. “Nice. You made an impression.”
“Becky, stop it.” I giggled, wincing at the pain.
“Sorry. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Just a bit sore.”
“The car is really a mess, but I swear I’ll pay for it,” she retorted. “I’ll do anything I have to. I’ll pay for the doctor bill too. Jane…I’m SO sorry.”
“Becky, it’s fine. We’re both alive. That’s a lot better than where we could be right now. Stop crying, please. You’re going to make me cry.”
She smiled. “I was just scared for you.”
“I know. I was scared for you.”
“For me? Why?”
“I didn’t know where you were. I tried calling for you, but I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t see you or hear you. I didn’t know if you were…all right.”
She nodded. “I should be the one lying there, not you.”
“Becky, stop that!” I hissed. I managed to sit up the rest of the way. “The truck came out of nowhere. It wasn’t your fault.”
“You were right though. If I had my eyes on the road, it might not have happened.”
“Stop blaming yourself, honey. It’s all going to be okay.”
“Take a look at your gift.” She laughed.
I looked around and saw what Becky meant by more roses than she had ever seen. She meant it. They were everywhere around the room, in ten different vases. There were at least sixty. My God. If he couldn’t resist, couldn’t he have settled for one dozen rather than…five?
Summers' Deceit (Hunters Trilogy Book 1) Page 8