Reckoning

by Molly M. Hall

“Is she nice?”

  “Yeah, she’s alright.” He shrugs one shoulder. “She makes my dad happy, so that’s what’s important, right?”

  I nod, looking at him curiously. I get the sense that there are underlying issues, but I don’t pursue the subject. If he wants to talk about it, I suppose he will.

  He reaches for my hand. “Come on. I can’t wait for you to hear some of this stuff.”

  I smile and he leads me up the stairs. The house seems different without the crowds and noise. The colors are all warm beiges and terracotta, and the floor plan is open and inviting. As I look around, it’s obvious that a great deal of attention has been paid to detail – the skylights at the top of the stairs; the decorative wall sconces; the bronze doorknobs and fixtures; the intricate scrollwork along the stair railing.

  Rick’s room is at the end of the upstairs hallway, and it is probably three times the size of mine. Pale gray walls, a double bed in the middle, covered with a black comforter, two tall chests of drawers, black with chrome drawer pulls, a computer desk and chair, and a three-tiered entertainment stand, with a flat screen TV mounted above it. CD’s lay scattered across the top, along with some paperback books and several video game cases. Everything is surprisingly neat and orderly.

  “Nice room,” I say. “You’re really organized.”

  “Thanks. I’m actually kind of a neat freak. It drives me nuts when things are all cluttered and messy.”

  “I know the feeling.” I walk over to the entertainment stand to look at his collection of CD’s. “And I’m glad to see I’m not the only one that still collects CD’s.”

  “Oh, totally. There’s some really good stuff that isn’t available as downloads, so you gotta go old school, right?” He shuffles through several CD’s stacked neatly to the right, pulling out one near the bottom. Inserting it into the stereo, he says, “Check this out. Tell me what you think.”

  He plays a variety of songs from bands I’ve never head of, including some by a band from Holland that I really like. We sit on the floor for the next forty-five minutes, talking about bands and music and whether or not iTunes is better than Rhapsody.

  When the song we’ve been listening to ends, he stands and grabs his iPod from the nightstand. Plugging it into the stereo, his thumb scrolls down the screen for several moments. “You’ll like this. It’s really cool.” The sound of Winston’s barking drifts through the bedroom window. “Hang on. I’ll let Win in and be right back.”

  He hurries out of the room and I wander to his desk. A framed picture of him and his dad, dressed in hiking gear, standing on what looks like the top of a snow covered mountain peak, sits next to the computer. There is a smaller picture tucked into the corner, and I bend down for a closer look. It was probably taken a few years ago. Rick looks younger, boyish. A girl bearing a close resemblance is standing next to him. Megan, I guess. They are both making silly faces at the camera. A physics textbook and a dictionary rest on the back of the desk. I look around at the walls. A poster of some car called a Bugatti Veyron is on one wall, along with a bikini clad model with impossibly round breasts on the opposite wall. I roll my eyes, and shift my attention back to the paperbacks, wondering what he reads. The first is a novel about the so-called zombie apocalypse and below that is a tattered copy of a guide to Colorado’s hiking trails. I pick it up and idly flip through the pages.

  I feel a prickling on my neck and quickly spin around, my gut tensing with fear. Rick leans against the doorframe, watching me, a smile playing around his lips.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” he says, stepping into the room. “Just looking at you.”

  I feel slightly embarrassed, uncomfortable with being stared at. “Winston OK?”

  “Yeah. He’s good. I gave him one of those chewy things to munch on for a while.” He glances down at the book. “Do you like to hike?”

  I shrug, laying the book aside. “I’ve never really done much of it.”

  “There’re some great places I’d love to take you. The scenery is just incredible. We should do that sometime this summer.”

  “I’d love to. Just don’t make me rappel down a cliff or something.” I grin.

  “Scouts honor.” He holds up two fingers. Stepping back to the stereo, he touches the screen of his iPod. A moment later music floats from the speakers. It is mysterious and ethereal, with a soft and steady bass beat that is almost hypnotizing.

  Returning to stand in front of me, he gently brushes my bangs to the side. The thumb of his other hand softly caresses my cheek. “You have the most amazing eyes.”

  My heart beats faster. “Most people are kind of freaked out by them.”

  He shakes his head. “Not me. I think they’re beautiful. Just like you.” One arm reaches down and encircles my waist.

  I smile, ducking my head and fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. “I have a confession to make.”

  “What?”

  His hand is idly playing with the hair around my ear and it’s oddly distracting, making my breathing shallower. “Remember when you said that you had a crush on me back in middle school?”

  He nods, our bodies slowly swaying to the music.

  “Well, I’ve kind of had this crush on you all year.”

  “Seriously?” A smile spreads across his face.

  “I’d watch you at lunch.” I feel self-conscious, as though I’m confessing to something I shouldn’t have done. But it feels good to tell him. “Or when you were headed to lacrosse practice. I’d even go to some of the games just so I could see you.”

  “So that explains it.”

  “Explains what?”

  “Why I always felt like I was being spied on. I thought I was just paranoid. Turns out I had a stalker.”

  I laugh, punching him playfully on the shoulder. “Well, I’m sure I’m not the only girl that was watching.”

  “The only one I care about.”

  I put my arms around his waist and narrow the space between us. “I have another confession to make.” I bring my gaze to his, looking deep into his eyes. “I’ve always thought you had amazing eyes, too.”

  He laughs softly. “Me?”

  I reach up, placing my arms around his neck, and nod. I’m so comfortable with him. Every gesture, every movement, feels natural, unforced. “They’re so dark and…seductive.”

  “I don’t know about that. They’re just plain old brown eyes.” He draws his fingers gently across my shoulder. “But I like the seductive part.”

  Cupping the back of my head he leans in closer. I hold my breath. His lips touch mine, soft and gentle. I close my eyes, and his lips press harder, his hand sliding down my back. I lean into him, my mouth opening beneath his. His tongue finds mine, and my arms tighten, drawing him closer. Our lips meld together seamlessly, the feel of his mouth, his tongue, spinning tight coils of desire through my stomach. It feels new, and strange, and foreign. Exciting and dangerous. Confusing and tantalizing. I’m not sure where to go from here, but I don’t want him to stop.

  He gently moves me backward, his lips never leaving mine. I feel the edge of the bed press against the backs of my legs. Slowly lowering me to the bed, he lays down beside me, his lips trailing soft kisses around my jaw and down my neck. He reaches my collarbone and my breath catches in my throat. My skin burns and tingles.

  “Kat,” he murmurs, his lips finding mine again. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

  I feel like I’m floating. Like every secret daydream I’ve had over the past year is morphing into reality. A reality filled with sight and touch and smell. The music envelopes me in a silvery web of sound and vibration, and it’s just the two of us, touching, kissing, our bodies pressed together. Time ceases to exist and I float in a bubble of happiness. I could stay like this for days. Consumed by the feel, the taste, the nearness of him. The soft sound of his breath as he exhales against my neck. The sensation of his lips, his hands. With every touch, I want more and I fight to maintain a coherent train o
f thought.

  When his hand moves to the buttons on my shirt, I pull myself away with an effort.

  “I think we should probably stop,” I say. As much as I want to keep going, I’m not ready. Not now. Not yet.

  He groans and rolls away, brushing the hair away from his forehead.

  “You’re probably right.” He exhales loudly and reaches for my hand. Propping himself on his elbow, his fingers intertwine with mine. “You really know how to kiss.”

  “Not really. I think maybe I just like kissing you.”

  “Good. Let’s keep it that way.” He leans in and kisses me again. Soft and slow. “Come here.” He stretches out an arm, offering me his shoulder.

  I scoot closer, snuggling against his side. The music stops and he reaches for the remote, clicking through stations until he finds something soft and jazzy. Settling back, he wraps both arms around me.

  One finger traces a line up and down my arm. “What’s your biggest fear?” he asks.

  Startled by the question, I’m unsure how to respond. Right now, losing you, I think. But I simply shrug, nestling my head against his shoulder. “I don’t know. Probably being trapped somewhere, with no way out.” I think about my nightmares and shudder. Rick’s arms tighten around me and he kisses my forehead. “What about you?”

  He sighs. “Not getting into college.”

  I tilt my head to look at him. “Seriously?”

  He grins. “No. But it is something I worry about. I guess my greatest fear is falling off the side of a cliff.”

  “Are you afraid of heights?”

  “No, not really, but I do get uncomfortable sometimes. It’s just more the thought of actually falling. And there’d be no way to stop. My dad and I did a hike in Utah a couple years ago. And at one point there were only five or six feet between the rock wall and the edge of the cliff. I stepped out and looked down…and it just really messed with my head. For days, every time I thought about it, I got freaked out.”

  “At least it’s not very likely to happen.”

  “No. But just the thought of it, you know?” He laces his fingers through mine. “What’s your deepest, darkest secret?”

  I stop breathing, every muscle tensing. “What is this? Twenty questions?” I force a laugh.

  “No. Just curious. I want to know all about you.”

  I let my breath out silently. “Well, if I told you my deepest, darkest secret, then it wouldn’t be secret any more, would it?”

  He nods. “Fair enough.”

  “What’s yours?” I challenge.

  He grins and rolls on top of me. “That kind of information would require something in return.” He playfully bites my neck and I squeal with laughter, punching at his shoulder. He moves his hands, tickling my ribcage until our thrashing and laughter turn to more serious kissing. Sighing with happiness, I hold him tightly, floating somewhere between fantasy and reality. The moment is perfect and I wish I could freeze time. Just the two of us, surrounded by music and laughter and each other. Nothing else. No visions. No voices. No fear.

  Rick’s lips trace their way beneath my ear and down my neck and I my thoughts shatter into a thousand pieces.

  Several minutes later, he rolls to the edge of the bed. My arms feel hollow and empty.

  “Come on,” he says. “We’ve got forty-five minutes before you have to be home. I’m going to teach you to play Halo.”

  “Halo?” I look at him in surprise. “Do you have any idea just how bad I am at video games?”

  “Yes, I do. Which is exactly why we’re going to play. So I can totally kick your ass.”

  My mouth drops open and a competitive fire ignites my blood. “Oh, you think so, do you? It is so on.” Scrambling off the bed, I grab the Xbox controller from the entertainment stand, and for the next thirty minutes I get thoroughly annihilated.

  And I can’t wait to do it again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  With a Saturday morning all to myself, I stretch out on my bed, listening to some of the CD’s I’d borrowed from Rick. I doodle on my drawing pad, my foot keeping time with the music. A new song comes on and I smile, remembering what we’d been doing the last time I’d heard it. It’s been nearly a month and our relationship is growing, deepening, and I couldn’t be happier. He calls nearly every day and we see each other three or four times a week. Movies, dinner, long drives, or just listening to music at his house or mine. Wherever we can be alone.

  I’d started working at the antiques store for a few hours a day, four or five days a week, sorting through the new items that came in as well as the things that have been gathering dust in the storeroom. I like it, and Mr. Camenson is a good boss, letting me know what he needs and then leaving me to it. Between my job, spending time with Rick and trying to catch up with Rachel and her increasingly hectic schedule, the days have begun to blur, one into the other, as the heat of summer settles over the city. June has melted into July and my life is calm, settled. And I want to keep it that way.

  Lovell has been distant and elusive, and other than a quick greeting when we happen to run into each other coming or going, we haven’t spoken. If I’m honest with myself, there is a part of me that misses talking with him. He makes me think in ways that I haven’t before. More than a few times, I’ve thought about dropping by, just to say hi, ask how the home renovation is going. But I don’t. Because he also has an unsettling affect on me. And I don’t want to risk the happiness I’ve found.

  My phone rings and I reach for it with an excited smile. I’ve been hoping to hear from Rick all morning. It is our one-month anniversary, and if he can get out of a family dinner we are going to go back to the same café we went to on our first date. But it’s Rachel.

  “Hey, Rach!” I say, hoping she has time to talk. She’s been so busy with her job we haven’t spoken in over a week.

  “Kat?”

  Her voice is weak and rasping, and I’m immediately filled with concern. Rachel is never sick. “Rachel? What’s wrong?”

  “I’m sick. Really sick. I can’t stay out of the bathroom. Oh, God. Hold on…”

  I hear a loud plunk, as though she abruptly set the phone down, followed by a horrible retching sound. I pull the phone away from my ear with a grimace.

  Several moments later, she comes back on the line. “Sorry.”

  “Rachel, are you OK? What’s the matter?”

  “Some kind of stomach bug. Or something I ate. I don’t know.”

  “Do you need something? I’m coming over.”

  “No, no. I’ll be fine.” She pauses and takes a shaky breath. “I just need some help. I have to get these deliveries done for my mom. But there’s no way I can do it. Is there any way…”

  “Of course I’ll do it. You don’t even have to ask.”

  “Thanks, Kat.”

  She coughs and I wonder if she is going to be sick again.

  “It’s just some silk flower arrangements. You’ll need to pick them up from the florist. I have the addresses they go to, and you know how to use the GPS, right? There’re only two of them and they’re both pretty close. My car is in the driveway. I’ll leave the keys outside the front door. I don’t think you want to be near me just in case this is contagious.”

  “No problem. I’ll be there as quick as I can.”

  I end the call wondering how on earth I’m going to get to Rachel’s. My mom is at work, so she is not an option. I glance at the clock. I’m sure Rick would let me take his truck, but he is working until one, and I have no way of getting to the rec center. I could walk to Rachel’s, but that will take too long. And I have no idea what the bus schedule is.

  If only I had the Jeep. I remind myself to tell my mom later that this is a prime example of why I need my own set of wheels. Although my dad promised that we could look into getting something else at the beginning of next year, it doesn’t help me now. My glance slides to the window. Lovell is the last person I want to ask. But, at the moment, I don’t have another choice.
<
br />   Hurrying to the living room, I look out the window. Lovell’s Ranger Rover is gone. Great. He doesn’t leave his house for weeks, and the one day I need him, he’s gone. For some reason, that doesn’t surprise me.

  With no other options, I call a taxi.

  _________

  Forty minutes later I’m in front of Rachel’s house. I pick up her car keys, along with a sheet of paper containing addresses. Resisting the urge to go in and check on her, I head to her car, resolving to call when I get back.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Carefully placing the flower arrangements on the passenger seat, I push the car door closed. Although I’m worried about Rachel, I feel good. The weather is beautiful. I have an awesome boyfriend. And the visions have vanished, disappearing just as mysteriously as they started. I feel more hopeful than I have in a long time.

  Twirling the key ring around my finger, I walk around to the driver’s side, an unusual bounce in my step. I open the door and look up…and that’s when I see them. And the world crashes around me.

  The scene flashes across my vision in nightmarish high-definition, burning into my brain with gut-wrenching, realistic clarity.

  Exiting Cold Stone Creamery.

  His arm draped across her shoulders.

  Her laughter as she dips her finger in her ice cream, offering him a taste.

  The smile on his face as he sucks her finger clean.

  Walking across the parking lot to his truck.

  Unlocking the door.

  Her head lifting to kiss him, before she slips into the passenger seat.

  The door closing.

  I stare, transfixed, unable to breathe. The keys drop from my hand and clatter onto the pavement. And that’s when he turns and looks at me.

  Rick.

  His eyes widen in surprise. Hurt and anger burn with fiery intensity in my gut. Bending down, I grab the keys and practically leap into the car. My hands are shaking, but I manage to get the key into the ignition. I put the car in gear and exit the parking lot, my heart shattered, my mind numb. I glance into the rearview mirror. Rick stands by his truck staring after me, his earlier surprise replaced by confusion and something else I don’t pause long enough to identify.