by Brenda Novak
“I don’t know...” She stared out at the people scurrying past the bronze dolphins cavorting in the middle of the walkway between two rows of shops.
The weather was far better than they’d anticipated. Although it had been raining when they left, the sun had come out since. It was turning into a beautiful day. She could wear a coat, but she might look odd pulling up the hood like she wanted to do.
“You don’t care what these people think,” Dallas said.
She glanced at him. “That’s easy for you to say. You’ve never been embarrassed this deeply.”
“How bad could that video be?” he asked. “Maybe I should watch it so that I can understand.”
Her gaze had drifted right back to the window. At this, she whipped her head around to look at him again. “No!” she said desperately. “I’ll get out.”
She heard him chuckle and knew his comment had been a ploy to pry her from the van, but the more she got to know him—and the more she liked him—the more mortified she became at the thought that he might see what so many already had. It was becoming progressively more important to her that he never see that video.
Her knees threatened to buckle when she landed on her feet, but she managed to stay upright and move out of the way of the door so she could close it.
“Where should we go first?” he asked, coming around the van.
She studied the shops as though she were about to face a firing squad and grabbed a pair of sunglasses out of her purse. “I don’t care,” she muttered as she put them on.
He laughed at her morose response but surprised her by taking her hand. “We got this. Come on. No one is going to say anything to you without answering to me.”
She expected the next few minutes to be excruciating. But people were more interested in their own shopping than they were her. When no one stopped to stare or point, she began to relax, but she didn’t let go of Dallas. The warmth of his hand, calloused in places because of his climbing, felt more reassuring than she wanted it to. She’d always prided herself on being a fierce, independent woman. But Ethan Grimes had dealt her such a leveling blow. She hated that she’d been stupid enough to get involved with him in the first place. She should’ve been able to ascertain the kind of man he was much sooner.
“See? Everything’s fine,” Dallas said as they stopped to gaze up at a historic mission bell hanging over another sculpted dolphin, this one spouting water.
She checked the walkway to be sure a crowd wasn’t forming to laugh at her. She knew that was ridiculous, but she was so self-conscious. “Thanks for...for helping me through this.”
“Of course.”
The afternoon flew by. They admired the elaborate Christmas decorations both inside and outside the various stores, grabbed a late lunch at a sidewalk café, picked up a few gifts and tossed a coin in a fountain that had sculptures of turtles climbing onto rocks. On a bench that had a statue of Benjamin Franklin at one end, they sat and enjoyed an ice cream cone.
By late afternoon, Emery was finally to the point where she could remove her sunglasses and talk and laugh freely, even walk without having to cling to Dallas. But just as they were getting ready to head back to Silver Springs, they drifted into a quaint and expensive chocolate shop. She was planning to send a box of chocolates to her mother, thought it might help encourage Connie during this difficult period, when she realized the woman behind the counter was someone she’d known in high school.
“Sidney,” she said, the word pulled from her automatically as soon as Sidney looked up.
“Emery! What are you doing here?”
Emery felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Sidney had been one of those friends in school who was nice to her face but talked about her behind her back—the kind of friend who was jealous of any success she had and would be relieved, almost eager, to see trouble come her way.
At first, Emery hoped that Sidney hadn’t heard about Ethan, the sex video and her subsequent firing from the news station. But with the way social media worked, she knew that wasn’t realistic. It took only one person from her old high school to hear the news and share it, and then everyone would know. And surely there’d been at least one person who was privy to her downfall. Something this juicy spread fast.
“Just shopping for Christmas.” Emery conjured her best imitation of a smile, hoping it would mask her nervousness and insecurity. “What are you doing here? Do you live in Santa Barbara these days?”
“I do. My aunt owns this store, and since I was tired of small town life and was talking about moving closer to the coast, she asked me to help out with it until after the holidays.”
“What will you do then?” Emery asked, trying to keep the focus off herself for as long as possible.
“I’m an interior designer—have a BFA from the Pratt Institute in New York City.”
Emery wasn’t familiar with the Pratt Institute, but Sidney was so proud of having gone there it had to be something special.
“I’ll be starting my own business after the first of the year,” she added.
“That’s wonderful,” Emery said. “I’m happy to see that things are going well for you.” She indicated the chocolates in the glass showcase. “I was just hoping to order a box of candy for my mother.”
“Of course. What kind would you like?” Sidney asked, but the moment she finished packing Emery’s chocolates and had wrapped the box in Christmas paper and put a pretty bow on top, she said, “So...do you still live in LA, or did you leave because of...you know?”
Sure enough, she knew—and she couldn’t resist putting Emery on the spot.
“I still live in LA, but I’m staying in Silver Springs for a few weeks, what with the holidays and all.” Emery didn’t add that her parents were no longer there, or that she’d have to move away from LA eventually, because she couldn’t bear the thought of returning.
Sidney lowered her voice. “It must be hard.”
“Why would it be hard?” Dallas had been moving along the display case. He acted as though he was going to order a box, too—and maybe he was—but Emery knew he’d also been monitoring the conversation.
Sidney’s eyes lifted to his. “Is this...your new boyfriend?” she guessed.
Emery didn’t have a chance to respond before Dallas spoke again.
“No, but I’d like to be,” he said. “You saw that video, right? Damn, it was hot! Any man would be lucky to have her.”
Sidney’s jaw dropped. In one fell swoop, Dallas had removed her power. He’d tackled the situation head-on, as if Emery didn’t have anything to hide or feel awkward or embarrassed about, and that left Sidney with nowhere to go. “I...I guess,” she stuttered.
Dallas took his time choosing a box of chocolates for Aiyana. Then he insisted Emery sit with him at one of the little tables in the shop, where they ordered a hot chocolate and sipped it slowly, proving they were as comfortable as could be.
“Enough already. I’m dying to get out of here,” Emery whispered once Sidney was busy helping some other patrons who’d wandered in.
Dallas checked his watch. “We’ll leave as soon as she’s available, so that we can say goodbye.”
“I didn’t even want to say hello,” Emery grumbled.
He laughed loudly as though she’d just made a great joke and they were having a grand time together. Then he lowered his voice. “You can’t dictate how most people will react to you. But you have to remain in charge, can’t give them the power to hurt you—or they will.”
Her attorney had suggested she hire a PR company to handle the debacle. If she hadn’t lost her job on top of everything else, she would’ve taken that recommendation. Now she could see why a PR company might be important. With a little strategy, she could spin what’d happened in a more favorable light and outmaneuver her detractors. They didn’t have to know she was dying inside.
&
nbsp; The customers Sidney had just helped were walking out the door when Sidney glanced over. Surprisingly, there was no hint of the smugness in her expression that had been there when she mentioned LA. She seemed almost jealous again—jealous that such a handsome man would shrug off what Emery had done instead of making a joke out of it, out of her.
“Incredible,” she muttered to Dallas after Sidney picked up their empty cups and disappeared into the back.
“What?” Dallas said as he stood.
“Attitudes are as catchy as the flu.”
“Exactly.”
“We appreciate your help,” Emery said to Sidney when she returned to wipe off their table.
“No problem.” Her gaze shifted to Dallas. “Merry Christmas,” she said, obviously eager to please him.
“Merry Christmas,” he said with a wide smile and once again took Emery’s hand.
5
It was after eleven when Aiyana sat on the couch next to Dallas. His younger brothers had gone up to get ready for bed, and Emery was in her room, possibly asleep. “How’d it go today?”
Dallas continued flipping through TV stations. He didn’t watch a lot of TV, just a show here or there on his computer. Not only did he sleep in his van in one campground or another throughout the summer, he went to bed early so he could get up at the crack of dawn. And during the winter—until this winter—he spent most of his time at the gym, coaching or working out so that he could maintain his strength and earn enough to carry him through the next climbing season. “How’d what go today? Shopping? Fine.”
“You and Emery get along okay?”
“Of course. Why?”
“You were gone all day.”
He eyed her dubiously. “What are you implying?”
She arched her eyebrows, unwilling to back down even though the look he was giving her warned her not to make a big deal of the time he’d spent with her houseguest. “It means you were having fun.”
After glancing back toward the stairs to be sure Emery wasn’t coming down, he lowered his voice. “I was just trying to help her.”
The way Aiyana smiled made him suspect she didn’t believe him, so he leaned forward. “You know better than to play matchmaker,” he said. “Even if she were interested, which I’m sure she’s not—she’s going through too much right now to even consider getting into another relationship—it would only set her up for heartbreak. I wouldn’t make a good husband.”
She rolled her eyes. “Says who?”
“Says me. Climbing has come between me and plenty of other women. This relationship would be no different.” He knew that wasn’t strictly true. It wasn’t climbing that made him leery; it was a lack of trust. The only psychologist he’d ever found helpful had told him he had abandonment issues. But anyone who’d been through what he’d been through, especially at such a young age, would be angry and walled off.
“Eventually, you’ll be looking for something more...fulfilling than climbing,” she predicted.
He settled on SportsCenter since he knew his mother wouldn’t stick around long enough to watch anything even if he chose a program she’d like better. She had school in the morning, was already up past her bedtime. “I don’t find anything more fulfilling than climbing,” he said. “I’m happy the way I am,” he added the moment he saw the concern enter her eyes. Aiyana had saved him in so many ways; he refused to cause her to worry. “I’m good.”
She sighed as she glanced away, then looked at him again, this time catching and holding his gaze. “I got a letter a couple of months ago.”
He tensed. He could tell by her somber tone that this wasn’t just any letter—and since he’d recently received a letter himself, he could guess what she was about to say. “From my father?”
“He’s been in contact with you, then? You didn’t say anything, so I assumed he didn’t follow through.”
Dallas pictured the crinkled envelope he’d taken out of his duffel bag last night. He didn’t pick up his mail often, handled almost everything online, so his father’s letter had been waiting in his post office box for over a month. “He wrote me, if that’s what you mean by ‘followed through.’”
“What’d he have to say?”
“I don’t know.”
“You didn’t open it? What’d you do with it? Throw it away?”
“Not yet. But I might. What’d your letter say?”
“That he was eager to reach you, that he had something to tell you he felt you should hear.”
The bitterness that welled up surprised Dallas. He’d thought he’d come to terms with his childhood—even though it had warped him in a way he couldn’t seem to fix, like a constant wind permanently bends even a strong tree. “As far as I’m concerned, he’s dead. I don’t want to hear anything he has to say.”
She rested her hand on his forearm. Her touch had always soothed him. He’d watched Eli handle the horses they had on the property in a similar manner, knew it was because of the trust he’d developed with them that they responded as they did. Dallas supposed the same mechanism was at work here, too. So maybe he could trust. He trusted Aiyana, didn’t he? It just didn’t come easy.
“He claims he’s sorry for what he did to your mother and sister, Dallas,” she said. “That he’s spent the past twenty-three years regretting his actions.”
He didn’t believe that for a second. No amount of regret could change the past, anyway. Dallas was six when he’d watched his father, in a drunken rage, shoot and kill his mother and sister. He turned the gun on himself afterward, but managed only a superficial wound before being hauled off to prison. Dallas went to live with his mother’s mother—until she died of chronic disruptive pulmonary disease a year later. Then he was put into the foster care system, where he acted out so badly he was passed around from home to home until he turned fourteen and the state, in a last-ditch effort to correct his behavior, sent him to New Horizons.
Fortunately, that brought him into contact with Aiyana. Because of her—and the stability she offered—not only did he graduate, he was accepted to UC Santa Cruz. He only attended one year before dropping out, but at least he finished high school. If not for Aiyana, he wouldn’t have done that much. If not for Aiyana, he’d probably be in prison, like his dad. The group of friends he’d fallen in with in Bakersfield, where he’d spent his life up until that point, was getting heavily involved in using and selling drugs.
“Why does he want to talk to me?” Dallas asked. Then he voiced what he suspected, what he’d told himself that letter probably contained, which was the main reason he hadn’t opened it. “Don’t tell me he’s up for parole. Does he expect me to come speak at his hearing, and try to help him get out? Because that’s not gonna happen.”
“That’s not what he said,” Aiyana replied. “He told me he was just hoping to get a message to you.”
“So that’s how he got my address? You gave it to him?” He scowled. “Why? You know how I feel about him.”
“Actually, I don’t,” she said calmly. “You’ll never speak of him.”
“Because of how I feel,” he responded in exasperation.
“I’m sorry if I made the wrong decision. I should’ve asked you before I gave him your address. Even though you’ve never opened up about him, I know you have issues with him, and rightly so. But I figured it was safe to give him a PO Box. It’s not as if he could ever show up at your door, even if he did get out. And I thought—” her hand rubbed his arm in a loving gesture “—if he’s truly sorry, it might do you some good to receive an apology. Sometimes when people take responsibility for the things they’ve done—no matter how terrible—it can heal old wounds.”
Dallas didn’t think the man he remembered was capable of true remorse. He was too narcissistic for that. “I’m fine. There’s nothing he could do to help me even if I wasn’t. Whatever he says, they’re just words.”
>
She let go of him and sat in silence for a few minutes before changing the subject. “We’re having a rewards assembly tomorrow morning at school, for those who have attained at least a B average so far this semester. I was hoping you’d come and teach the boys how to scale the climbing wall. Gavin and Eli don’t know much about climbing, so I bet they’d be grateful. And it would allow them to concentrate on helping the boys with the sports they are good at.”
“What time?”
“Eight.”
“Of course,” he said. There was nothing Aiyana could ask of him that would be too much—not that this would be even a minor sacrifice.
“Thank you.” She stood and kissed him on the head. “Good night.”
As he listened to her climb the stairs, he thought about what she’d told him: Sometimes when people take responsibility for the things they’ve done—no matter how terrible—it can heal old wounds.
Was that true? Could he fix what he’d done that easily?
Sadly, no. Jenny wasn’t around to apologize to.
Wednesday, December 9
The buzz of her phone woke Emery. She blinked at the light streaming through the cracks in the blinds, realized it was morning and started fumbling through the blankets. Last night, after she’d returned from Santa Barbara and climbed into bed, she’d been shocked to receive a text from Ethan. That he’d have the nerve to contact her after what he’d done, that he’d feel safe enough to do so, boggled her mind.
But the temptation to rub her nose in the collapse of her career was probably too great for him. Also, he didn’t know that she was going to sue him as well as the station. Her attorney hadn’t even drawn up the paperwork yet, let alone filed it and had it served.