The West Wind

by Morgan Douglas

  Half an hour later, Jared knocked on the door to Hero’s bedroom. He was upset, though not nearly as upset as his wife, who was not only angry at their daughter’s behavior, but that she had made such an embarrassing admission in ‘public, of all places.’ Anna, Jared thought, was always a little too concerned with reputation. Hero didn’t answer, so he knocked again. This time some kind of unintelligible reply came from within. He opened the door, pretending it was an invitation.

  “Honey?” The room was dark and the curtains drawn. He flipped the lights on as Hero glared up at him from her perch on the end of her bed.

  “What do you want?” Hero demanded, her tone defensive.

  “Do you want to tell me what happened?” Jared asked, trying not to be annoyed with her attitude.

  “Oh, so now you want to hear my side?”

  “Well, since I just found out what happened, I thought that might be nice,” Jared said, a little taken aback by his daughter’s vehemence.

  “I’m sorry, It’s not you. I just. . . She had no right! I hate her! Nothing happened. I was at Xander’s and I fell asleep. That’s it! Nothing else.”

  “You’re sure that’s all?” her father asked, suspicious. He wouldn’t have shown as much self-restraint when he was a young man.

  “Yes, that’s all,” his daughter parroted back bitterly.

  “According to your mother, you kissed this boy? What was his name again?”

  “Xander. And I did kiss him. This afternoon, on my way back into town.” She stressed the word back.

  “Ah, I see.” Jared paused. ‘I suppose it could have been worse, then.”

  Hero stared at him expectantly, waiting for whatever he had to say next. After a few uncomfortable moments of silence, her father sighed.

  “You’re grounded,” he informed her.

  “What?!?” she exclaimed, standing up. “I’m almost 18!” Her voice climbed a decibel. “Why are you treating me like a child?”

  Jared tried to be reasonable. “It’s only for a little while, Hero. It could have been longer. If it were up to your mother, you’d be grounded for life.”

  “So you admit you’re treating me like a child!” she pounced.

  “Well, you’re acting like one, and you’re grounded until you are no longer legally considered one.” Her father’s voice quivered, betraying the fact that he was beginning to lose his grip on the patience he had been holding onto with white-knuckled fortitude.

  “You’re grounding me until my birthday?” Hero asked, sifting the subtler meaning from his words as if panning for gold.

  “Yes, your birthday,” came Jared’s clipped response.

  “That’s a month and a half away!”

  “It’s better than 30, which is where your mother started the bidding.”

  Hero nodded, biting her lip. Making a snide comment about her mother now would just make things worse.

  “So, you like this Xander?” he asked to change the subject.

  She nodded again.

  “Who is he?”

  “He’s new in town,” she answered. “He and his dad are the people who bought the Brighton House.”

  “Oh?” her father said, his voice brighter. He laughed a small laugh. “Well, that should smooth your mother’s ruffled feathers a little. Any scandal connected to money is better than one that isn’t.” He winked at his daughter.

  “It’s not like that,” Hero protested.

  Jared soothed his daughter. “I know, I know. But you know your mother. She’s a good woman, she just has a few idiosyncracies. She and her friends care about some odd things, but they make her happy and don’t harm anyone else. You definitely didn’t inherit them, however.”

  “Money’s just a tool that lets you do the things that make you happy,” Hero quoted.

  “Who said that? Must be pretty weird,” Jared said with a jovial grin.

  She pushed him. “I can’t imagine,” she said facetiously.

  Jared let his daughter go and moved to the windows. “Why don’t we let some light in? There’s no point sitting in the dark. If he’s worth it and you really like him, you still will when your birthday comes around.”

  Hero took a deep breath to let go of some of the tension she had built up and nodded her assent. He pulled the curtains open and leaned closer, blinking at the brighter light.

  “What’s that?” he asked, peering out the window.

  “What’s what?” Hero joined him. About 200 feet from the end of the family dock, a small row boat made its way for a landing. A tall, well-formed young man sat in the boat, craning his neck as he rowed.

  “Xander!” she exclaimed, then ran out of the room.

  “Hero!” Jared called after her, then followed. He and his wife caught up to her at the top of the stairs leading down to the dock. Anna caught her daughter’s wrist and kept her from charging down to meet the boy who rowed ever closer. Her husband looked pointedly at each of them in turn.

  “Stay here, both of you. I’ll go talk to him,” Jared insisted. His family nodded, for different reasons. Hero because she was relieved that her mother wouldn’t have a chance to tell Xander off, and Anna certain her husband would do just that. Not for the first time Hero thought that if Jaimie had been her sister, Jaimie would have been Anna’s favorite and Hero her father’s.

  Xander reached the dock almost the same time as a man in his early to mid-forties. The stranger, who he guessed was Hero’s father, beckoned for the rope Xander had coiled in the bottom of the row boat. The young man tossed it to him. It was wet. he climbed out onto the dock as Jared tied off the boat. Jared noticed two bouquets of flowers lying in the boat as he did, one bouquet a sunset of a dozen red and yellow roses, and the second of irises and tiger lilies, his wife’s favorite flowers. The boy had come prepared.

  “Thanks. I’m Xander,” he said, offering his hand.

  “Jared DiBenedetto,” Jared said, accepting the young man’s hand and shaking it.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. DiBenedetto.”

  “What can I do for you, Xander?” Hero’s father asked, bodily blocking the way off the dock. His manner was calm, assertive without being aggressive. “I’m afraid I can’t let you see Hero right now. She’s been grounded until her birthday.”

  Xander nodded his understanding. “Actually, sir, I came to see you, or your wife.”

  Jared’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh?”

  “Yes, sir,” Xander said politely. “I wanted to apologize for keeping your daughter out so late and falling asleep. I should have brought her home when we first started getting tired.”

  The older man pursed his lips in thought. After a moment, he nodded. “Thank you, Xander. That’s quite a brave and bold thing to do, owning up to the girl’s parents. You do understand, however, that her punishment will not change because of it. She is still equally at fault.”

  “I understand.” The boy smiled wryly. “I guess I’ll have plenty of time to work on the house.”

  Jared gave him a curious look. “You and your parents are fixing the house by yourselves?”

  “My dad and I, sir. Not all of it, but most.”

  “Impressive,” Hero’s father noted. “Is there anything else I can do for you Xander? I’ve just returned from out of town and I’d like to get back to my family.” He leaned his head suggestively toward the flowers.

  “Yes, thank you.” Xander fished them from the boat. “If you would please give these to Hero,” he said, handing Jared the bouquet of roses. “And these to your wife,” he continued, handing over the irises and lilies.

  “You’re a smart young man,” the elder noticed.

  “Just well trained, sir,” the younger replied with a rather roguish smile.

  “I’ll see that they get where they belong.”

  “Thank you, Mr. DiBenedetto. It was nice to meet you,” Xander said, and left.

  Hero watched the whole scene, nervous. Paranoid fantasies of her father cursing and a villainizing Xander flashed throu
gh her mind. She was afraid he would send him away forever, or they would fight and she would have to tell Xander she could never be with someone who struck her father, or. . . the stories went on and on. A couple times she discovered she’d forgotten to breathe. When Xander pulled a couple of strangely shaped, colorful items she hadn’t noticed out of the small boat (where had those come from?), and handed them to her father, her heart leapt with hope. She was disappointed when Xander rowed away, but was wild with anticipation by the time Jared climbed up the steps.

  “Well, what did you say?” his wife asked, eyeing the flowers suspiciously. He didn’t answer her, instead handed Hero the bouquet of roses and was rewarded with a smile and a bright spark in her eye that warmed his heart. “These, mademoiselle, are for you.”

  He turned to his wife and handed her the other bouquet. “And these, my dear wife, are for you, from the young man.”

  Anna was speechless for a second. “But these are my favorite flowers. How did he know?”

  Her husband and daughter shrugged and shook their heads. Hero buried her nose in the roses, the petals tickling her cheeks.

  “By the way, I gave him a piece of my mind and told him that he’d be lucky if he ever got to see our daughter again,” Jared said with a wink at Hero.

  “I saw that!” Anna said.

  “Saw what?” Jared asked innocently.

  “You winked at her!”

  “Who, me?”

  “You’re worse than she is!” Anna protested.

  It was Hero’s turn to respond. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mom.”

  Anna’s face scrunched up. “I suspect conspiracy,” she stated. Then, unable to resist any longer, she followed her daughter’s example and dove her nose into her flowers.

  In Medias

  One Friday two weeks into being grounded, when Hero had decided she was going to go crazy for the 100th time that day, her mother knocked on the frame of her open door. Anna had just come back from a shopping trip. Hero had heard the boat arrive, but hadn’t bothered to get off her bed and look.

  “Hello, dear. How are you?” her mother asked.

  “Bored out of my mind. How are you? Did you have a good shopping trip?” Hero tried to care.

  “It was nice, thank you. I brought you a gift.”

  “Thanks.” Hero rolled back over and played with an app on her new phone, which was almost useless since she didn’t have any of her friend’s numbers and her parents were tracking her actions on all her social networks.

  She heard her mother sigh and say, “Go on in.”

  Hero rolled over in a flash, part of her expecting, hoping to see Xander. She was only slightly disappointed when Jaimie walked into the room.

  “Jaimie!” she exclaimed, flinging herself off the bed and running to hug her friend.

  “Hey!” Jaimie greeted her.

  “I’ll leave you two girls to catch up,” Anna said as she left.

  “Thanks, Mom!” Hero called after her. Hero only called her mother “Mom” when she was very happy with her.

  “You’re welcome,” her mother called back up the stairs, her tone amused.

  “Oh my god, it is good to see someone other than my mother,” Hero told her friend.

  “It’s good to see you too. The Coven isn’t the same without you.”

  Hero had let her friends in on the joke the last time they were at Ambrosia and they had claimed the term for their own.

  “How is everyone?”

  “Good. Leana is leading Jeremy around by the nose. She has him so off balance he doesn’t know what to do.”

  “Does she actually like him?”

  “I think she does, but she won’t tell me. And she won’t tell him, just does little things you would normally think were obvious signs, but she never discusses them or follows through to the next step.”

  “Does he like her?”

  “He does now. He’s. . . What’s that word from Bambi?”

  “Twitterpated?”

  “Totally twitterpated.”

  “Good for Leana! How about the others?”

  “Evan and I are Evan and I,” Jaimie said.

  Hero nodded as if it was truly a profound statement.

  “And Brian came out of the closet,” Jaimie finished.

  “What? Really?” Hero was surprised.

  “Yeah, apparently Jeremy was the only one who didn’t know. He was a little weird at first, but Leana told him that if he made any nasty jokes she’d never talk to him again.”

  “That worked?”

  “Yeah, totally twitterpated.”

  They both laughed.

  “And what about. . .” Hero trailed off.

  “Xander? You’re still thinking about him?”

  “Constantly,” Hero said with a sigh. She would never forget their first kiss, but the sensations of it were fading and she really wanted them back. Wanted to feel his arms around her again, to dance with him, to move with him.

  Jaimie looked from side to side as if checking for spies. Finding none, she drew a simple envelope out of her purse and handed it to Hero. The envelope smelled of sawdust with a hint of the A87 Aeropostale cologne Xander wore. Her name was scrawled in cursive across the front. That surprised her, though it shouldn’t have. It wasn’t sealed.

  “Did you read it?” Hero asked Jaimie.

  “No,” Jaimie said. “He told me I could, though, if I really wanted to.”

  “And you didn’t?” Hero was impressed.

  “Want to? No,” she said with a straight face.

  Hero raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Jaimie grinned.

  “I really, really wanted to. But I thought my best friend might want to read the letter from her boyfriend first.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” Hero protested weakly while she hugged Jaimie.

  “Uh huh,” Jaimie replied. “Read your letter,” she ordered.

  Hero slipped the letter out of the envelope. It was written on plain notebook paper, the kind with perforated edges. The pages still had some rough spots where the paper had ripped. She could see that the entire letter was written in cursive, by hand. It made her smile. Of course Xander would take the time and effort to do so. She unfolded it.

  Dear Hero,

  I miss you. I found out from Jaimie that your birthday is coming up and I am relieved that it’s closer than I expected. I can’t wait to see you again. When you’re no longer grounded, I hope you can come up and see the ballroom my dad and I created. I didn’t get the chance to show you the other night and we’ve finished up the work since then. I think you’ll love it and I know that until then, dancing won’t feel the same without having you to dance with.

  Speaking of dancing, I haven’t been in the last two weeks. I’ve thrown myself into the work on the house and besides, it’s kind of like that one song, Don’t Get Around Much Anymore. “Thought I’d visit the club / got as far as the door / couldn’t bear it without you / don’t get around much anymore.”

  The house is going well. We finished our bedrooms as well, though I still have no curtains or a bed, and we started on the living room. I got covered in soot when I was checking the chimney. A pile of it fell on me. Dad is still laughing. I don’t think I’ll ever live it down. We still haven’t begun furnishing anything else either; I told Dad that I wanted to wait for you and he’s fine with that, as long as that’s still what you want. I hope it is. I can’t stop thinking about you. If I never kiss you again, my life will be less for it. Listen to me. I sound like Shelley.

  I spoke with Jessica after I heard about what happened at Ambrosia. She still isn’t very happy but I think she’ll at least be civil in the future. I’ll have to tell you about what happened after you left my place when I see you next.

  Jaimie is pacing around my room waiting for me to finish writing you, so I must keep this short. She showed up on my doorstep about half an hour ago, ordered me to write you a letter and demanded that I hurry. I think there’s a huge heart in there
. I can see why the two of you are friends.

  I miss you. If I may, I’ll see you on your birthday.

  Yours Always,

  Xander McConnell

  Hero smiled at the formal tone of the letter, so like him. She took a deep breath with the letter close to her nose and sighed happily at the memories the scent of him awakened. When she unburied herself, she found Jaimie looking at her expectantly.

  “Well?” her best friend asked.

  “He says he misses me.”

  “Duh.”

  “He also said he thinks you’re a big fake and a softy,” Hero teased.

  “What?” Jaimie exclaimed, grabbing for the letter. “Let me read that!”

  Hero held the paper just out of reach until Jaimie tackled her and pulled it out of her hands. At first she began to skim it while she pinned the squirming Hero beneath her. After a moment, she settled to read more carefully, still using her friend as furniture.

  When she finished, she screwed her face up as if she’d eaten something unpleasant. “Ugh, I think I’m going to barf.”

  “I think it’s sweet,” Hero protested.

  “Yeah, like rotten honey,” Jaimie agreed.

  “Honey doesn’t rot,” Hero pointed out.

  “It doesn’t?” Jaimie looked surprised.

  “If it’s stored right, no. They found some in an Egyptian tomb once.”

  “How do you know that? Xander?”

  “No, the Discovery channel.”

  “Oh, well it’s still bee vomit. And so’s your letter.”

  Hero laughed. “You win.”

  “Of course I do,” Jaimie said with so much pride in her voice it made Hero laugh again.

  Suddenly, Jaimie had an epiphany. “Hey! I have an idea!”

  “Uh oh,” Hero joked. Jaimie poked her in the ribs and she squeaked.

  “We should have your party at Xander’s,” Jaimie suggested, though she sounded like it had been her decision to make and had already been made.