A Girl Scorned

by Rachel Rust

  For two and a half months following the cabin incident, I did the whole college thing. I went to class, I joined study groups, I explored the city—I even went to Claire’s Columbia Composers concerts. And I did it all with a smile on my face.

  That was during the day.

  Late at night, in the dark silence, Sergei’s face always found me and gunfire rang in my head. I used breathing techniques to calm my heart rate and help lull me to sleep. It was getting better now. Instead of being up until five or six AM, I was now falling asleep around two in the morning. Almost getting a full night’s sleep before my first nine o’clock class.

  The breathing techniques were a trick Dr. Holcomb had taught me. Her first name was Harriet, and she was a mental health therapist at the student health center on campus. She was an older lady with severely short gray hair and a rough voice. Cate, the psychologist back in Rapid City, had spoken to her about my story and our summer sessions. But where Cate had been warm and good at listening, Harriet was stern and had no patience. She scared me during my first visit and I barely spoke because of it. But after a few sessions, I got used to her tough manner, and even enjoyed the mental challenges she presented. Unwilling to let me shrug with indifference or blame others, she helped me lift myself up and take charge. “Solution-focused” she called it.

  The situation with Sergei was still in my head, and it always would be. But I was coping with it. Getting stronger. And I was doing it on my own, by myself, in the city, without running to my parents for comfort.

  I was taking care of myself.

  Sometimes, however, when I’d finally fall asleep, my dreamful head rested against a familiar form. I could feel and smell him as if he were really there—only to reach out in the morning, still half-asleep, and find nothing but emptiness next to me.

  I waited for the dreams of Eddie to dissipate. I waited for thoughts of him to fade—kind of like those of Sergei. But Eddie never went anywhere. The techniques Harriet taught me worked for the bad things … the bogeyman wasn’t real, Sergei wasn’t coming back from the dead, I wasn’t an evil person just because I had pulled the trigger, and that night at the cabin was in the past and we were moving toward the future.

  Breathing and mindfulness helped in all those situations.

  But Eddie persisted.

  He was there in the nighttime. He was there in the daytime. And my patience with his persistent interference in my life was just about to snap.

  On the Friday morning before Thanksgiving, the last day of class before a week-long break, I walked to Dr. Mando’s psych lecture, my first class of the day, with thoughts of turkey and sweet potato casserole twirling through my head. It was going to be our first Thanksgiving with all four of us—Dad, Mom, Josh, and me—since Josh and I were in second grade.

  Life was almost normal in that moment.

  And then in the next, it wasn’t.

  My phone rang, a restricted number. I answered with an unsteady, “Hello?”

  “Is this Natalie?” a woman asked.

  It took me second to place her voice. “Oh, my God, Krissy?”

  “Yes, I was just calling to see how you’re doing.”

  “I’m fine, but forget about me, how are you?”

  She chuckled. “I’m well, thanks. Arm’s good. I’m stuck with desk duty for a while, but I’ll be back out there soon.”

  “That’s good to hear.”

  We chatted for a few minutes about New York and college and paperwork overload. She told me about Luke’s funeral and a sting of memories came rushing back.

  “I never got a chance to tell you how sorry I am about his death,” I said. “He was a good guy.”

  “He was. Losing him was hard on all of us, especially—”

  “Eddie?”

  “Yeah, especially Eddie. They were real close.”

  I paused, drumming up the courage for my next words. “How’s he doing?”

  She sighed. “Okay, I think. He’s been through a hell of a lot. He’s formally appealed his badge, so he’s waiting to hear about reinstatement. Just getting some farm-fresh air in the meantime.”

  Farm-fresh? In a split second, everything around me became clearer and more vivid. The sky, the grass, the voices of random people around me—the whole world transformed into a brilliantly beautiful scene. Because I now knew exactly where Eddie was—and exactly where to find him.

  “Well, I gotta roll,” Krissy said. “Just wanted to touch base, make sure you’re doing okay. Let me know if you need anything else.”

  I smiled and wanted to hug her through the phone. “I really appreciate that, Krissy. Thanks for calling.”

  We said goodbyes and then instead of going to my psych lecture, I walked back to my dormitory. In the commons area, I stopped at the ATM where I withdrew five hundred dollars. My Thanksgiving dinner next week was not going to taste all that great now that it was going to come with a side of explaining the hefty withdrawal to my dad.

  But my dad was not my concern in that moment. The name Eddie rang in my head with every step back to my dorm room.

  I was managing, surviving, and exceling. I was making progress with Harriet, getting better sleep, and maintaining straight As in every class. But something was missing. A steadying hand, a sweet smile at the end of the day, a funny remark making me laugh.

  I could take care of myself, but sometimes I just needed another body to lean on and laugh with. I needed Eddie.

  I recounted the bills in my hands. Five hundred dollars. A couple hundred for food and gas … and the other three hundred?

  I knocked on Claire’s dorm room. She answered immediately, a big smile on her face as always. Music wafted from her room, like soft rock but with banjos.

  “Natalie!” She grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the room. “Look what I got for Seattle!” She twirled and her bright yellow skirt flew up like one of those in an old dancing movie. When she stopped, the gauzy material twisted around her legs, finally settling into its proper place.

  “That’s beautiful,” I said, rubbing the fabric between my forefinger and thumb. “When do you go on your trip again?”

  “April! I can’t wait!” She spun around and dropped to her knees, pulling random things from under her bed. “We’re selling some Christmas wrapping paper for our newest fundraiser. The catalog is under here somewhere if you wanna buy any. I mean it’s okay if you don’t, but there’s some really cool designs and—”

  “I’ll buy some.”

  Claire kept digging, still no catalog. “Ugh, where is it?”

  “I don’t need a catalog,” I said. “I’ll just give you some money now.”

  She turned to me and I held out three one-hundred-dollar bills. Her eyes widened.

  “How—how many rolls of wrapping paper do you need?” she stammered.

  I laughed. “It’s not for wrapping paper.”

  She gaped at the bills. “Then what’s all that for?”

  “You have a car, right?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Yes.”

  “I want to rent it for a few days.”

  “You realize there are rental car companies, right?”

  “Yeah, but you have to be at least twenty-one. Besides, you need money for Seattle, right?”

  She nodded.

  “I need a car, you need money. Let’s make a deal.”

  “Where do you need go?” she asked.

  My mouth opened, but I didn’t answer, unsure how to explain an impromptu trip to Ohio.

  The corner of Claire’s lip turned up. “Oh, my God.” She grabbed my hand and yanked me down to sit on the bed with her. “Please tell me this has something to do with that FBI guy you don’t like to talk about, the one who sent you that Romeo and Juliet note. Oh, my God, that was so freakin’ romantic!” She collapsed onto her back, smiling up at the ceiling. “What’s his name anyway? And how does one even meet an FBI agent? You weren’t arrested or anything, were you? Because if he arrested you, and then fell in love with yo
u, that’d be a totally cute story to tell your kids someday.”

  “No, he didn’t arrest me.”

  She looked at me and bounced her eyebrows. “But he has handcuffs, right? Has he ever used them on you?”

  I laughed and hit her with a decorative owl pillow. “I’m so not telling you stuff like that!”

  Claire ripped the pillow out of my hands and threw it at my head. “Seriously though, what’s up with this guy? Is he your boyfriend?”

  I pursed my lips. “How about I tell you all about him after my trip. Because until then, I don’t know what he is. Last time I saw him, he said we shouldn’t be together.”

  “Then why are you bothering to go see him?”

  “Because I can’t get him out of my head and I need more closure than what he gave me.”

  She sat up with a huff, staring at the money again. “Okay, I’ll let you borrow my car on one condition.”

  “I promise I’ll take good care of it and return it with a full tank of gas.”

  She waved away my words. “Yes, yes, all that, but…” She took my hands in hers and looked me straight in the eye. “Don’t waste your money and go there and wimp out. No matter what he says or does, tell him the truth. It’s the only way to live the rest of your life in peace.”

  The last words came out lyrical and I gave her a little grin.

  She shrugged. “It’s from a new song I’m working on.”

  “It sounds good.” I put the cash in front of her again. “So, it’s a deal?”

  She smiled and took the money. “Deal.”

  An hour later, I was in the driver’s seat of a red compact Chevy with Arkansas plates, headed west into New Jersey. Only 450 miles to go.

  The drive was about seven hours, mostly interstate through Pennsylvania. It was pretty scenery and I would’ve enjoyed it more had I not felt like I was going to throw up the entire way. My dad was going to be pissed at the five hundred bucks which was supposed to be extra spending money for the school year, and at the end of my journey was a guy who may or may not be happy to see me. I might have just spent five hundred dollars to get scorned—again—by a cocky FBI agent.

  But I couldn’t just sit back and lick my wounds any longer. I had to know what Eddie was thinking, and how he was coping with everything.

  And I needed to see him one more time.

  I had lied to Harriet during one of our counseling sessions. She had asked me about Eddie, and I told her two lies: One, the pain of him leaving me had faded. Two, I had nothing in my possession that directly reminded me of him.

  But as I drove with the speedometer set at eighty miles per hour, the sealed white envelope in the cup holder had his mom’s name on it, in his handwriting. The final letter he had written for her, in case he didn’t make it out from under Sergei’s wrath.

  I had brought the letter back to New York with me, and as time went on, I thought about mailing it to him, but I worried his mom might intercept it instead, and then freak out over whatever he had written. I needed to make sure it got back to him safely, without any prying eyes.

  But as I passed a Welcome to Ohio sign, my road trip mission had nothing to do with returning a letter to its rightful owner, and everything to do with ending a chapter in my life. Whether it ended tragically or happily ever after, that was a risk I had to take.

  The directions got a little trickier into Ohio, where I had to leave the interstate and navigate through small, poorly-marked roads. The late-afternoon sun was starting to sink into the western sky, creating long shadows from the passing highway signs.

  The directions on my phone took me through a small town just east of Akron, called Burgton. The two-story high school was its biggest building, accessorized by shiny metal football bleachers and a large cutout of a tiger mascot. Burgton Tigers Can’t Be Beat!

  Across the street from the school was a tiny post office with a huge American flag. Next to that was a red barn-like building with a neon pig sign luring people in to eat barbeque.

  At the end of the main street, past the Dairy Queen, I turned left onto an even smaller road. Once Burgton was in my rearview mirror, I turned right onto a narrow gravel road. I turned off the radio, and small rocks pinged under the little Chevy. Dust floated up around the car as the hazy scent of country dirt filled the air.

  I stopped in front of a dirt driveway that led to a two-story tan house surrounded by tall trees. It looked like a farmhouse, complete with a large aluminum shed just behind it, and a big yellow dog impatiently wagging his tail as he stood in the front yard staring at my car.

  Eddie’s house. Eddie’s family. Presumably, Eddie’s dog.

  This was him, where he was from, and what he was made of.

  I parked and got out of the car.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The thumping of my heart was louder than my knocks on the front door. Maybe Eddie already knew I was there, having glanced out one of the many windows. Yellow Dog had followed me from my car and was now nudging his head under my hand for me to pet him. I obliged.

  The doorknob unlatched and I braced myself for Eddie’s reaction to seeing me on his front steps. Maybe I had crossed a line, driving seven hours without an invitation, and invading his family’s space. If so, he’d be annoyed at best, angry at worst. Either way, I could be just seconds from an unhappy reunion, accompanied by harsh visuals and sounds that would sear into my brain and require even more breathing techniques.

  The door opened wide, and a woman with short blonde hair stood in front of me. She smiled. “Can I help you?”

  “Hi, are you Robin?” I asked.

  “I am, who’s asking?”

  I smiled at the sight of her—Eddie’s mom. In the flesh. She was taller than expected. Slim in stature, with delicate features and long, slender fingers. Hard to believe someone as brawny as Eddie had come from such a sleek, elegant woman. He really must look like his dad.

  “My name is Natalie,” I said. “I’m friends with Eddie. Is he here, by chance?”

  She took a moment to scan me head to toe—this random female looking for her beloved son.

  She stepped outside. “He’s out back, I’ll take you to him.”

  My stomach launched into my throat and I squeaked out an, “Okay, thank you.”

  She led me around the side of the house, past the huge aluminum out building. Yellow Dog tagged along, running ahead, then doubling back to make sure we were following him. He nudged my hand again.

  “Victor!” Robin said. “Leave her alone. I’m sorry, he doesn’t meet many new people out here. I can tell he likes you though.”

  I chuckled. “Your dog’s name is Victor?”

  “Yep, Eddie named him that a few years ago when we first got him. Right before he left for Quantico.” She paused, looking over at me. “How is it that you know Eddie again?”

  “Oh, I—I met him through his work.” It was sort of true.

  “FBI?”

  “Yeah. I don’t work for them, but Eddie was working out in Rapid City, which is where I’m from. But I’m in New York right now. I go to Columbia University.”

  His mom nodded, looking perplexed. “Well, he never tells me much about his job or where it takes him. I suppose he doesn’t like taking it home with him. Especially when he comes back here to the farm. It’s like he becomes a little boy again with all this open space. Four-wheelers, fishing. He just wants to eat, sleep, and play. This farm is his escape.”

  His escape. I smiled at the thought. I wanted him to have an escape. A happy place. Krissy had been right … Eddie had been through hell in the past few months. Deep down, when I pushed aside my own selfish pain, I knew him walking away from me wasn’t a dick move, it was a pragmatic move. We had needed our own time to cope with things.

  A cool gust of manure-tinged wind sent my hair flying as we rounded the back corner of the large building. I didn’t see any dairy cows, but they made their presence known.

  Behind the giant aluminum structure was a normal
-sized double garage with its wide door opened. Robin walked toward it and I followed. Victor ran ahead, disappearing into the garage.

  As we covered the next twenty feet to the garage, I forced every step. I had entered his territory—his escape. I hadn’t been invited. I hadn’t even been formally given the address.

  The opening to the garage loomed large. I swallowed hard and used Harriet’s breathing techniques to keep myself from turning and running away.

  “Eddie,” Robin called out as we crossed the threshold, moving from gravel to the smooth concrete floor of the garage. “You have a visitor.”

  The interior was lit by orange evening sunlight streaming through the westerly windows. A white Jeep Wrangler was parked near the left wall. It had no license plates and its hood had been removed. On the right side of the garage was parked another Jeep Wrangler, this one fully intact. Black, new, and shiny.

  From under the white Jeep, legs appeared, rolling out on small wheels that scraped against the grit of the concrete floor. Following the legs, came the rest of Eddie. Dirt and grease covered his jeans, t-shirt, and hands.

  His eyes connected with mine as he sat up.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked with a brusque tone.

  “Eduardo,” Robin scolded. “Don’t be rude to company.”

  He dropped his wrench on the ground and stood up, glancing at his mom.

  “Well,” she said. “I’ll let you two catch up. I’ll be at the house if you need anything.”

  “Thank you,” I said, getting a smile in return. “It was really nice to finally meet you.”

  Her smile widened. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Natalie. I’m glad you came by. This one here could use a little company. He’s been cooped up in this garage for the past few weeks. I only see him when he comes in to eat all the food in my fridge.”

  She gave Eddie a quick wink, then turned and called for Victor to follow her, but he stayed in the garage, sniffing at things, tail wagging.

  Eddie crossed his arms and leaned against the hoodless vehicle. “What are you doing here?” he asked again, a bit softer this time.