by Cindy Miles
Several girls giggled.
“I think it’s a mistake,” Anna replied. “I think they shouldn’t get away with what they do.”
“You’re right,” I agreed. “But it’s not our place to dish out their consequences.”
Consequences. The word nearly made my stomach queasy.
Several moans still filled the common room. They didn’t dissuade me.
“Is everyone clear on this matter?” I said clearly. “The Dare is officially off.”
The sisters clapped, a sign that the majority agreed.
And I was glad at least one thing was off my conscience.
Over the next several days, I heard nothing from Kane. Olivia texted me each day, letting me know of his condition. Broken ribs, most likely, and contusions to the face and anywhere else those idiots had kicked and punched. Kane had played hardball with some older guys in Covington, and they hadn’t particularly liked their outcome. Cory Maxwell had found out one of the Kappas had not only tipped the guys off, but had told them where Kane would be. They’d followed us that afternoon, and had beaten Kane for his involvement in their bets. Olivia said Brax went nuts, but Kane convinced him to let it go. He wasn’t saying much else. And he wasn’t calling or texting me. The depth of sadness that created inside of me left a gap. A hole. How had I let my emotions get so far gone with Kane McCarthy? And so fast? Each day that passed, I felt more hollow. More cold. I felt like I just wanted to crawl back inside myself. Hide. But I couldn’t. I had to keep up the façade I’d always had.
The next afternoon, my art appreciation class dragged on and on until finally, it ended. I gathered my briefcase, my bag, and started across campus to the café. No one stopped to talk to me. No one smiled, waved, or said hello. I suppose I’d always preferred it that way. Only now, I noticed it more. Kane was right in his assessment of me. I really didn’t have any friends. Other than Murphy and Olivia. I moved through the crowd unnoticed. Invisible. And for the first time since arriving at Winston, it bothered me.
At the café, I bought my usual turkey sandwich, a bottle of apple juice, and quickly headed to my car. In minutes I was at the park in Covington, and I’d claimed my bench. The crisp breeze wasn’t overbearing, but it was chilled. The sun edged closer to the tree line behind the lake, and I peeled the plastic wrap off the sandwich and took a small bite. My appetite had fled completely, so I sat with the plastic container in my hand, watching the joggers on the running path. Kane filled my thoughts.
The image of his scarred back flashed before me. What had he truly endured? What kind of torment had he gone through in his young life? It had to have been a never-ending nightmare. How had he turned out to be so caring? So gentle? I knew he still carried his demons, though. Just like I did. The difference was, he had courage. He had the strength to put his horrors behind him and carry on with his life. Why couldn’t I be more like that? Instead, I kept right on hiding with my monsters, behind my grandmother’s money and the affluent Belle name. I was a coward. Plain and simple. What made me think Kane deserved to be strapped by someone as damaged as me? What made me think I deserved a guy like Kane?
“Pardon me,” a brittle voice said beside me. “Is this seat taken?”
So deep in my thoughts, I was taken off guard. When I looked, a thin, petite elderly woman stood close to the bench. Her hair was white and cut in a jaw-length bob. She wore a pair of black sweatpants, a pair of sneakers, and a Texans sweatshirt. On her head, a white flowered skully with pink flowers.
“Oh,” I answered. “No, please,” I offered. I fought the urge to bolt; I preferred to sit alone, and until now no one had ever asked to sit with me. Not wanting to be rude, I stilled my legs, though, and gave her a smile. The one she returned came easily to her lips, and created lines around her mouth and eyes.
“Thank you,” she said sweetly, with her little tinny old voice. She sat down.
I was unsure what to do then, so I took another tiny bite of sandwich and continued staring at the lake. Small shuffles beside me had my curiosity up, and after sliding a side glance toward the old woman, I saw she’d retrieved a small plastic bag containing three slices of bread. She took one out, ripped off a few pieces, and threw them on the ground in front of us.
“Quack-quack-quack,” she mimicked, calling out to the handful of ducks at the lake’s edge. Just that fast, they began to waddle toward us, returning the quack with gusto and excitement. Like they knew her. I remembered her then, always standing at the water, throwing bread. Quacking to the ducks. I hadn’t given her much thought.
A familiar, uncomfortable feeling settled over me, and I started to stand. Escape.
“Oh, please,” the woman said. “Stay for a while longer, won’t you? And watch the ducks with me.”
Stunned, I just looked at her, and her smile was soft and warm.
“I miss the company of another person, sometimes,” she said. Her green eyes, somber and soft, pleaded. “Won’t you stay?”
Somehow, she’d convinced me with those kind eyes. “All right,” I answered, and settled back down. When I noticed she was watching me close, I gave her a hesitant smile.
“I see you here sometimes,” I said quietly. “With the ducks.”
She nodded, and her bob bouncing along her jaw. She smiled. “I see you, too.”
The ducks had made it to the bench, and were gobbling the bread up as fast as the woman could break it off and toss it down. She handed me a piece, and I took it. Eyeing her, I did what she did: broke the bread into small pieces and threw it down. A fat white duck hurried over, scooped the bread up with his orange bill, tilted his head back, and chugged it down. My mouth tugged, and I grinned. When I glanced at the woman, she was watching me.
“Why are you so sad?” she asked. “I’ve noticed. Pretty girl like you, coming out here alone all the time. Eating alone.” She snugged her hat down, and I noticed how frail and bony her hands were. “I wish every day that I wasn’t alone. So what’s bothering you, dear?”
I envisioned what it would’ve been like had Grandmother Belle been as sweet as this old lady. It was hard to imagine. Dare I talk to her? Tell her things? I threw a few more pieces of bread down, the ducks now gathered at my feet. The woman waited patiently for my answer.
I smiled. “I’ve always been alone,” I said. “Until recently.”
A slow grin pulled at her mouth. “You met a boy,” she stated. “I saw him, too. Devilishly handsome, I’d say.” She giggled, and the sound came out squeaky. “Cute tushie.”
I gave a light laugh and nodded. “Yes.” I looked at her. “We both have rough pasts,” I admitted. “Something…happened recently. I think I may have lost him forever.” Tears stung my eyes, just from confessing my fears out loud. I willed them to stay hidden, behind my lids, so they couldn’t be seen.
“I see,” the woman said. “That does happen from time to time.” With one final toss she threw the last of her bread down. “Do you love him?”
The question stabbed me, and I pondered it. “I…don’t know. I’ve never loved anyone before.”
“Well, I declare,” she said softly. “That’s about the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.” She half-turned toward me, crossing her skinny little legs at the knee. “You’ll know if your heart has been lost when you put his needs before yours. When you’ll do anything to keep a smile on his face and pain out of his heart.” Her smile sombered. “I met my Sam when I was only thirteen years old,” she started. “He was fifteen.” She winked. “I like older men.” She gave a soft laugh at her joke, then became lost in her story. “We went to high school together, and then he went off to war. That was the summer of nineteen forty-two. He’d come home on a short leave.” She winked again. “That’s when I got pregnant with our first daughter. When he left, I was terrified he’d never make it back home.”
I watched this old, frail woman, lost in memories from so long ago. Her eyes no longer focused on the present, but to those days in the past. Her old life. Before she became
alone.
“After Pearl Harbor was hit by the Japanese, the fellas were high strung, ready for revenge. My Sam was no different.” Her eyes closed then, just for a split second. “Sweet Jesus, that was a good-looking man. Takes my breath away just to think about him.” She opened her eyes and stared ahead, remembering. “Dark blond curls—until the Army shaved it off, of course—sparkling blue eyes, and the grandest laugh you’d ever hear. And I declare, he could dance!”
I sat and listened, completely enthralled. Tossing bits of bread on the ground. Noticing how close the ducks came to my feet to gobble up their snack. I wanted to know more about this love affair from so long ago, and I didn’t have to ask for it. She continued on.
“My Sam landed on Utah Beach in Normandy, France on D-Day, although at the time I didn’t know it. I’d have driven myself madder than a loon, if I had. But he survived, praise Jesus.” She turned to me then, her green eyes clear, crisp, and growing darker as the sun faded. “I begged God that if he brought my Sam back to me that I’d spend ever single day of my life making him happy. God heard me, because my Sam came home.” Her eyes drifted again, back to that day, and the wrinkles eased around her eyes a little. I could see her youthful beauty behind the lines of time. “I’ll never forget that day at the airfield, waiting for him. When he stepped off that plane I thought my heart would burst clean out of my chest!”
Again, tears stung my eyes, and I was shocked at my reaction.
She looked at me. “How does your heart feel when you see your fella?”
I exhaled softly and held her gaze. “Like my heart is going to burst clean out of my chest.”
“Well, then,” she said, and reached with that bony frail hand and patted my knee. “If it’s true love, it will work itself out, my dear. You just remember what I said.” She grasped my hand then, and squeezed. “My name is Clara. What’s yours?”
I smiled. “Harper.”
Clara nodded, patted my hand. “Thank you for letting me talk about my Sam. Can you come back some time? And feed the ducks and talk some more?”
I gave her a genuine smile. “I’d really like that, Clara.”
Her green eyes glittered. “So would I.”
Later that night, as I laid awake in bed, I thought about Sam and Clara. I wondered why she was so lonely? I decided Sam must’ve died, but what of her children? Or grandchildren? She was sweet and kind, and I couldn’t imagine having a grandmother like her. I’d spend as much time with her as I could, had I been that lucky.
But I wasn’t that lucky. I had Corinne Belle. She was not sweet. Not by far.
Clara, though, had given me hope. Maybe with a little time, things could mend between Kane and I, and we would be able to continue our…what was it? Relationship? All I knew was that I did want it to continue.
Despite my hopes, though, Kane remained silent. Day after day, night after night, I waited, but he never called. I felt like I was on auto-pilot at school, meandering around campus with my fake smile and façade. It was wearing thin on me, I could tell. Becoming harder and harder to convince others that I was some happy-go-lucky, wealthy and well-loved Texas society girl who had everything going for her. With Murphy consumed with her budding relationship with Josh, it was easier for me to keep to myself without question. Inside though, I felt antsy. Cornered. Like I had no idea where to go or what to do next.
It was a week and a half before classes let out. Despite a few disgruntled Deltas who wanted revenge on the Kappas, I’d wiped the Dare from my mind, with everything else that was going on. The foreboding trip I had ahead of me to Belle House; Kane’s attack and, most of all, his shunning of me. That hurt the worst. But I think I understood it, really. Wouldn’t I do the very same thing? I couldn’t deny the hurt, though.
I felt as though that, because I’d seen what had been done to him, his scars, it had in some way caused a riff between Kane and I. As if he somehow connected me to the scar. Of course, these were all scenarios in my mind, but I played each and every one out until the ache it left in me was almost unbearable. I missed him. Missed him more than I’d ever missed another human being in my life.
It was as if he were gone.
“Are you okay?” Murphy asked, suddenly by my side. It was Friday—a week after Kane’s accident. Had it already been that long? We’d been at the soup kitchen for the past two hours, bringing in donated canned goods. It was the last load for the holiday.
Murphy wore a Silverbacks ball cap on her head, and her lob was pulled into two pigtails that stuck straight out on each side. She peered closely at my face. “You look as if you might have a bit of the collywobbles.”
That did bring a small smile to my face. “I’m fine.” Of course I wasn’t. Luckily, Kane’s attack had been kept hush-hush. I hadn’t even told Murphy about it. She couldn’t do anything about it anyway, so why burden her?
“Well, there it is.” She grinned. “That lovely smile I’ve gotten quite used to.” She stretched. “Right! Off I go.” She elbowed me. “Unsure if I’m on the piss or on the pull, but either way,” she said, winking, “cheers.”
“Bye,” I answered, and watched her bounce toward Josh’s truck. He leaned against it, arms crossed in front of him, and when she saw him she ran and leapt straight into his arms. They kissed, she wrapped her legs around his waist, and I could only shake my head as they fell against the fender of his truck, laughing and kissing some more. Turning back to the last box of canned goods, I loaded it inside the soup kitchen, waved goodbye to the kitchen staff, and turned to head out.
Kane stopped me dead in my tracks.
Words wouldn’t come; I could only stare at his battered face, still black and blue but now turning yellow in some places on his cheekbone. Beneath his shirt I could see the bandages there, binding his broken ribs. Inside, I shook; tears burned my eyes.
“We should talk,” he said, and his eyes were already talking, already speaking loud things I didn’t want to hear.
“All right,” I answered, and simply…waited. I didn’t know what to do, where to go, what to say—
In the next second, his hand was on my jaw, his lips were against mine, and I drew in the breath he exhaled. “I’ve missed you,” he breathed, and deepened the kiss.
And I let him.
“Are you okay?” I asked, the taste of spearmint still on my tongue from Kane’s kiss.
He nodded as we walked. “Better now.” He looked at me, linked his fingers with mine. “Brax and Gracie left for the weekend.” He rounded on me, his gaze steady, clear. “Will you stay with me?” He tucked my head under his chin. “Please?”
I lifted my head and offered him my mouth, which he took, tasted slowly, and sighed against me. “I’ll meet you there in an hour.”
It was the longest hour of my life. I hurried through a shower, a change of clothes, drying my hair and make-up. My eyes roamed my closet; everything was too formal. Murphy had offered free reign of her closet so I ran to her room, found a pair of worn, faded jeans with a hole in the knee, a navy ribbed tank, and a solid red long-sleeved shirt that had snaps for buttons. Grabbing them all I ran back to my room, and by the time I’d slipped each garment on, I was in love.
How had I not worn jeans my entire life?
I looked at my footwear; no go. Nothing went with the extreme casual dress-down I had on. Running back to Murphy’s I found her black Uggs—I didn’t think she’d kill me—slipped them on and again. Fell. In. Love.
I’d been missing out. On a lot. I suddenly felt free. Free to possibly be me. It was a breathtaking notion.
It took ten minutes to reach Brax’s apartment because of the Friday night traffic, and when I did, Kane was outside waiting on me when I pulled up. Leaning casually against his truck, his smile broke the darkness as I killed the engine. When I climbed out of the Lexus, the smile grew.
“Wow,” he said under his breath. Almost not for me to hear. Slowly, his eyes moved from my head to my feet, and back up. “Casual looks good on you.”
>
“Feels good, too,” I said, then shivered. He pulled me close, grabbed my hand and led me inside. The lights were out; the candle was lit on the square coffee table. Wordlessly, he led me to the sofa, then followed me down when I sat.
His large, warm hand enveloped mine. “I want to tell you something, Harper,” he said in that mesmerizing, quiet voice. Tinged with that unique Boston accent, it intrigued me, and I listened closely. I knew what was coming; things he didn’t want to explain. Things I didn’t want to hear.
Necessary, both.
“I know Brax told you a little the other night, after,” he started. “I’m not going to replay it for you. First, I want you to know something.” He breathed, his eyes holding mine. “I’d never put you in danger, Harper. I hope you know that.” Fury passed over his face. “When I saw that guy head your way I nearly lost my mind. “
My throat went dry at the storm in his eyes. “I know, Kane. I know what Cory found out. “
He nodded, and that profound gaze bore into me. “But there’s something Brax doesn’t even know,” he shook his head, rubbed his jaw with his free hand. “Man.” He struggled; I could tell that. I sat silent, though. Waiting.
“My sister. Katy.” A sad smile touched his mouth. “She was my only light back then. So sweet. So small. So helpless.” His face grew stormy. “Our father was a big man with a big gut, bigger mouth and an endless temper. Especially when he had a six-pack in him. Which was every day.” He turned my hand loose, and rubbed the sockets of his eyes, then looked at me. “I usually took all of Katy’s beatings. But one got by me.” He closed his eyes, breathed, opened them again. “When I got home he’d beaten my little sister unconscious. He was passed out in the recliner in the dump we lived in.” He shook his head, and I knew he was reliving a nightmare. I’d done it before myself. He continued. “I found her on the floor in a heap.” His voice caught, tight, cracked, and painful, and it made my insides hurt to hear it. “She wouldn’t wake up. She just lay there, her little bony knees and ankles crossed and lying in an odd way on the floor.” He cleared his throat. “I knew she was alive, though. So I called 9-1-1. Then I beat my father’s drunken, pathetic ass until the paramedics pulled me off.” He cleared his voice again, and I eased my hand into his, and he sagged against me. “I didn’t beat him hard enough, because the bastard came out of it later that week. He’s in prison now, though, and he won’t get out in my lifetime.” His gaze stayed on our hands for a moment, then he raised his head, and the pain I saw there made me almost gasp.