Raine's Haven

by Shari J. Ryan

  "Look, this is all a mistake," she says. "You're right. I'm an idiot, and I make stupid decisions."

  I step in front of her, stopping her quick pace. "There has to be a reason for all of this. Obviously, you don't know a thing about me, so what is it?" My curiosity has definitely been piqued.

  She walks around me, continuing at the speed she was going a moment earlier.

  "I know more about you than you think I do," she says, taking a sharp left into the park and down to the lake. "Damnit, why are you still following me?" Why am I still following her?

  She plops down into the grass and pulls her knees into her chest, keeping her gaze on the reflecting water that seems to split the horizon in half. "I heard my parents talking about our gardener—that's you. I was only listening in so I could find out what your name was, but that part wasn't mentioned. Wasn't as important as the rest of the information, I guess."

  "Hmm," I say, sitting down beside her. "Care to share the gossip?"

  "No," she says.

  "Why not?" I ask, leaning back as I press my palms into the cool grass.

  "I won't know what to say if it's true," she says. This town and their goddamn rumors, secrets, and truths.

  "How come you never leave your house?" I ask her, hoping to redirect the focus from me and my sad life.

  "I'm out right now, aren't I?" she quips.

  "Fair enough." Haven wraps her arms around her body, vigorously rubbing her hands up and down each arm. I don't have anything to offer her other than the shirt off my back, and I'm thinking that would be a bad idea here in the public park. It would be a bad idea, period. "So, I'm guessing that you wait for your parents to leave at night and then you make a run for it."

  She looks over at me, smirking as she straightens her posture. "Boy oh boy, you sure have figured me out," she says. "You don't think I'm sick like everyone else does around here? Evidently, either I'm sick, or I’m mentally unwell. I'm not sure which rumor I prefer."

  "No." I chuckle at her question. The rumors in this town are the only things that should be considered sick around here. "I don't go around assuming things."

  "Well, good. I'm not sick and I'm mentally stable. Not sure I can say the same for my parents, but it is what it is." While she may be trying to hide it, I hear an inflection of anger behind every word. She's looking past me, lost in thoughts I wish I had a peephole into. "They're embarrassed by me."

  I don't mean to laugh, but it's the only response my body can generate. I'm not sure I even understood her correctly. "Embarrassed?"

  The trance she was in while explaining herself breaks, and her eyes soften as she redirects her focus to me. "Yeah, embarrassed. I don't speak like them. I don't dress the way they want me to. I hate frills and makeup, and they haven't exactly come to terms with it. Besides that, I say things I shouldn't say, and it makes them nervous." Haven stands up and brushes the dirt from her backside before moving in closer to the water. A little more gracefully than I might expect, she lifts a small rock from the ground and tosses it across the lake. I watch in surprise as it bounces three times on the water top, as if it were a solid surface, before sinking.

  "Impressive," I tell her.

  A cynical laugh hitches in her throat as she shakes her head. "Right."

  "You know what you believe in, and you don't give into what they want. Maybe it's a bit juvenile, but I think it shows the type of person you'll be someday. No one likes a puppet."

  She glances back at me, her eyes wide and questioning. "The person I'll be someday?"

  "You're eighteen," I remind her.

  She stalks toward me with her hands on her hips. "What makes you so knowing at your ripe old age of twenty-one? Have you seen the world? Know all the answers to every question? Or are you just a little too cocky for your own good, maybe?" For someone who seemed so interested in me yesterday, there's been a significant switch in her attitude. Clearly, I've pissed her off, but I haven't said anything I don't mean, and I haven't said anything without reason or knowledge to back it up.

  "Don't you think you should be getting home before you get caught?" I tell her.

  "You don't need to worry about me like I'm some lost kid, okay?" she says.

  I close more of the space between us, stepping into the moonlight where I can see her better. "I never thought of you as a kid, Haven, but maybe you should consider yourself lucky for having the life you have. It may not be what you want, but you're fed, clothed, and I'm sure your parents care about you a little."

  "Again," she shouts. "Who the hell are you to say this to me?" Why is she so upset? I get it. She doesn't want to act the role of the mayor's daughter, but she's taking it a little far.

  "Fine," I tell her. She looks surprised to hear me give in. I lift my hands up in front of me, defensively. "I'm going to let you be alone with your thoughts. As much as I'd prefer that you don't stand here in a park alone, I know when I'm doing more damage than good."

  “Good. Thank you!” She clasps her hands together as if she were pretending to be grateful. “Good God,” she mutters.

  She’s driving me crazy. I grab her wrist and pull her back into me as I press my lips against her ear and whisper, “Oh, and next time you come looking for me, don’t wear that goddamn, hot as hell, red lipstick. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.” I release her hand and turn back toward the street, already feeling a sense of guilt for leaving her here, but I can’t force her to listen. All I can do is hope is that nothing happens to her tonight, and if it does, no one saw that I was the last person with her.

  5

  Haven

  What is it with people and their preconceived notions of how an upper-class girl is supposed to feel? I'm allowed to hate the lifestyle I'm forced to live in. Money isn't everything, and it doesn't always make people happy. I can buy enough things to make it appear like I'm happy, but inside, I'm as miserable as a person who doesn't have a dime to their name. I'll get my wish, though. The moment I graduate this damn homeschool program, I'm leaving this town, this state, and who knows, maybe even the country.

  I toss one more rock into the water and head back toward the street. I'm not sure why there are no lights in the park, but it's one of its best qualities. Out on the street, I'm on display beneath the streetlights and their orange glow for everyone to see. I wonder if people know who I am when I walk by. I've only been seen with Mom and Dad a handful of times in the past five years because of my refusal to be a part of their local fame.

  The walk from town to my house takes less than ten minutes, and with it being so late at night, I shouldn't be surprised at how empty the streets are. I walk in through the front door to my dark house, which is just as empty as the street. This is my life. Empty. Some days make me wonder if Mom and Dad regret having me. They wouldn't have if Dad didn't end up in this position, but now I feel more like a thorn in their side than anything else.

  I amble down the hall and close myself into my bedroom, keeping the lights off as I make my way to the window overlooking the farmer's moon. I was kind of an ass to Raine. I think I was kind of stupid to go looking for him.

  I drop my smoke-riddled clothes to the ground and slip under the covers, pulling them up tightly around my neck. There isn't a big enough age gap between Raine and me for him to make me feel like a child the way he did tonight. Clearly, I was barking up the wrong tree. It's obvious I don't know what the hell I'm doing, and chasing a man won't get me anywhere good. After all, that's what Mom preaches. The problem is, everything Mom has drilled into my head has fallen to the back of my mind toward a dark hole I try to ignore. She says she knows best. Yet, I'm miserable.

  The late-night hours quickly turn into daylight, and as my eyes open, I listen for various noises I might hear in the house on a Saturday morning, but everything is silent. I lean to the side, peering over at my alarm clock. It's 9:30 a.m., where could they be already? I pull the sheets down and pad across the room until I reach the door. Poking my head out, I see the silence.
Did they not come home last night? I make my way into the kitchen, finding Paula—our on and off again housekeeper.

  "Oh, good morning, Haven," she says, sweeping a pile of crumbs from the countertop.

  "Where are they?" I ask, squinting through my sleepy haze as I take a seat on a barstool at the island.

  "Well, your father has the Sheriff's Ball tonight, so I believe he is at breakfast with the chief while your mother is meeting with the caterer. They said they'd be home later this afternoon." I rest my elbows on the counter and drop the side of my face into my fist. "I know this is hard, sweetie," she says, tilting her head to the side with sympathy I don't want. "Oh, by the way, there was a delivery for you this morning. The box is in the sitting room."

  My books. The only thing that keeps me going through the boredom my life has become. I walk into the next room and retrieve the box. "Thanks, Paula," I shout into the kitchen.

  "Can I make you some breakfast? Do you want juice?"

  "No thanks." I head back down the hall and into my room. It takes less than a minute to tear open the box and lift out my new stack of books. The smell accompanying the hundreds of creamy pages is as beautiful to me as the aroma of fresh flowers. I place them on my bed and fluff my pillows before climbing back in.

  Almost the moment I become comfortable with one of the books, I hear the truck pull up out front. I didn't forget. I was trying to avoid the thought of Raine altogether. I'm not standing in the window today. He can mow our lawn and take care of whatever maintenance he does, and move on with his day.

  The soothing sound of the mower relaxes me, helping me fall into the imagery of words on the page. As I continue to read, the words are masked by the memories of last night when Raine pushed me up against the wall, hovering so closely, I could taste his breath. His touch radiated through me with heat, and my stomach sank with the realization that all I need in my life is someone who wants to be near me, someone who makes me feel like I'm something other than just the mayor's daughter. How quickly that thought turned into a pile of emptiness with the idea of that person being Raine. It feels like I'm plagued. No one wants to get involved with me. I get it.

  With my focus in a blur, a tapping at my window startles me into tossing my book across the bed. I look over, finding Raine in front of my window. My heart pounds at the sight of him—the sweat dripping down the side of his face, his wet hair a shaggy mess, yet he manages to look hotter than ever. He is the definition of a tease, and I am only making this worse by opening my window. Yet, I can’t resist sliding the glass panes apart, leaving nothing but a thin screen between us. "Hey," he says.

  "Checking to make sure I wasn't murdered on the way home last night?" I ask.

  "I knew you hadn't been murdered last night." His lip curls slightly to the side, exposing the whiteness of his teeth against the tan of his skin.

  I shake my head with disappointment. "You do know when you follow someone without their knowing, it's called stalking."

  "Yes, I do," he says. "And I'd do it again if you decide to walk through the empty streets of this town so late at night."

  "Oh please, nothing bad will happen to me here. Besides, I’m still not sure why you care—"

  "I don't know, but I do. For some reason, your life resembles mine in the oddest way." He folds his arms and leans against the outside sill of my window.

  Shifting my weight to one side, I cross my arms over my chest. "So, you stay locked in a house that could fit a hundred people, alone, every day, have no real friends, and no one to talk to other than the housekeeper?" I ask sarcastically.

  "I guess we're nothing alike beyond the loneliness part, but I understand. I also know I saw your parents downtown this morning. They're getting ready for that ridiculous event for the Sheriff's Department tonight."

  "Yeah, and—?"

  "Get dressed," he says, looking down at his watch. "Meet me outside in ten minutes." He presses his hands into the sill and pushes away. The mower powers back up, and I'm left standing here wondering what he's thinking or planning. For someone who seemed so afraid to be seen with the mayor's daughter last night, I wouldn't expect this.

  Regardless, I grab some clothes from my closet—a pair of denim shorts and a loose-fitting halter top. Glancing in the mirror, I notice the mess my hair is in and grab a baseball cap, slipping it on backward. A pair of sunglasses and I'll be unrecognizable to the few who might spot me.

  For some reason, I can hear my pulse in my ears as I step outside to see him. How is this attraction so strong when we have had less than four actual interactions? Is it the stories I've heard, or the ones I've made up in my head about him? Maybe it’s just curiosity, or perhaps, it’s because I’m so desperate for an escape from my reality.

  Raine pushes his mower into his truck and locks it into place. Grabbing his shirt as he jumps over the side, he wipes it across his head, then slips it on while making his way over to me. "I didn't think you wanted anything to do with me," I tell him.

  "I don't remember saying that." Raine is out of breath and panting as he looks at me with sincerity.

  "You made a pretty big deal about staying away from me last night—"

  "We can be friends," he says. "There's nothing wrong with that."

  "Friends," I repeat. How could any woman be friends with a man who looks the way he does?

  "Hop in the truck." Without giving it a second thought, I look around for spying eyes as I jog across the lawn and up to the passenger door. I climb inside and close myself in. Even if Paula saw me, I don't think she would rat me out since she has told me many times how sorry she feels for me. Raine hops in and doesn’t waste any time starting the truck.

  "Where are we going?" I ask.

  "You'll see." Part of me would like to ask him if he plans to kill me there, but at this point, my sense of concern for danger is muted by the excitement of adventure.

  Every moment longer I'm in his truck, I relax a bit more. He avoids the center of town and takes some back roads I haven't been down in years. Pulling up against a thickly settled area of trees, he throws the gear in park. "I knew I should have been a little more concerned that you were going to kill me and bury my body in the woods," I say, half joking.

  "Oh shit, is that the rumor you heard? I'm a murderer now?" he asks with a scoff, apparently offended by my comment.

  "Nope, that's not what I heard, but you never know," I reply. He jumps out of the truck and runs around to my side, opening the door and helping me out. His truck is lifted and higher than most, making the distance from my seat to the ground more than a few feet, which didn't seem as high when I stepped in off the curb at my house.

  As Raine walks into the woods between the trees, I consider the thought of not following him, but the alternative is to go back home and melt into my bed for the remainder of the day. Like any girl with a death wish, I follow him into the woods, through a mess of leaves and roots. There is no path, and I don't see one anywhere in the distance. "I'm not going to kill you, Haven." I needed that reassurance.

  I follow in his footsteps for several minutes before we end up on a man-made path. Side by side, we walk in silence as I try to figure out where we could be going. "I didn't know there was a path back here," I tell him.

  "I would have thought you'd know all the hiding spots in this town, seeing as you don't want to be noticed by anyone."

  "The park at night. That's my thing," I remind him.

  "But here, you can be outside during the day."

  "In the middle of the woods?" I question.

  His hand wraps around my forearm as he pulls me off the barely carved path and into a new section of the woods where we approach a steep hill that descends into a lake. How could I have lived here so long and have no idea there is a lake back here? We slowly walk down the hill, and he doesn't remove his grip from my arm until we settle into the small area of flat ground in front of the water's edge. He walks off to the side and I follow, keeping my gaze set on the royal blue, silky water
. I hear a hollow thud and look forward, seeing Raine stepping up onto a boat dock. He walks to the end and sits down, dangling his feet over the side.

  We're surrounded by trees, and the scent of pine with lake water blends in the most satisfying way. There are no houses or row boats, nor anyone in sight. I sit down beside Raine, letting my feet dangle next to his. "This lake used to connect to the one you see at the park. It was much larger and open, but after too many droughts, the water level decreased, and the land separated the lake in half. It has been fifty years, and no one has given this part of the lake much thought because the land is owned by a Native American tribe; therefore, it can’t be built on without their permission. Over time, the lake has basically become abandoned."

  "How do you know all of this?" I ask.

  "My granddad," he answers curtly.

  "Does he live around here?" I place my hands behind me onto the soft wood of the dock and lean back, letting the sun warm my cheeks.

  "He died a few years ago," he says.

  I sit up and place my hand on his back, more curious than ever about his life. "I'm so sorry. Were you close?"

  "He was my guardian." Raine shrugs and sniffles while squinting at the sun.

  "Where are your parents?" I ask, wondering if I might regret the question in a moment.

  He exhales loudly and pulls his knees into his chest. "Well, my mom died from a drug overdose when I was two, and my dad is in prison." His words take my breath away but don't shock me. His explanation is exactly what I heard them discussing when I overheard Mom and Dad’s conversation about Raine.

  I don't offer sympathy because I doubt that's what he wants to hear. Instead, I try to sound insightful. "You should be proud to have overcome their demons. Despite my short-lived assumption of you being a murderer, you seem like a pretty nice guy. Smart, and clearly motivated to make something of yourself.”