The Knowers (The Exiled Trilogy)

by Merry Brown

  Since I was crouched on the ground, I sprang up and lunged for his legs, knocking him into the Hostess rack, sending the gun and Twinkies flying through the air. That was all the time the clerk needed to grab his shotgun and aim it, trigger ready, on the short blonde.

  I scrambled for the gun. Picking it up I spun around to aim it at the one in the back.

  To my utter shock, his arms were already in the air because Lizzy had a gun pointed at him. Lizzy was saying something to him in a calm voice.

  By the time I got to the back of the store, Lizzy had reduced this big guy to tears! He was apologizing profusely and rambling on about his desire to go straight.

  Lizzy wore the face of compassion. I wasn’t as composed – understatement of the year!

  “Joe, this is not who you are, not who you have to be. You choose what to make of this life. I know you can make better choices.”

  “I want to. I will. I’m sorry really sorry. Thanks for your kindness,” he said with a sniffle.

  “Keep your hands up and go to the front of the store,” I growled at him.

  The clerk ordered them to sit down next to each other, back to back. Lizzy kept the gun on them as we tied them up.

  Lizzy went over to see if the two other girls in the store, who were still crying, were okay.

  “I can’t thank you enough for your help tonight. I could see he was going to kill me. My name is Chris Carter. If there is anything, anything, I can ever do, for either of you, please let me know.”

  “Glad it all worked out. I honestly thought we were all going to die,” I said, adrenaline still pumping.

  “What are your names, so I can know who I owe?” Chris asked.

  “I’m Will Darby.”

  Chris’ face turned white as he placed where he’d seen me before.

  “And she’s Lizzy,” I said as I motioned towards Lizzy who had her arms around the youngest girl, rocking her back and forth.

  Chris was stunned. I knew the police would be here soon. The last thing I wanted was to be involved in this incident. I didn’t want anyone to think of me as a hero, and I certainly didn’t want my father to get involved.

  “Uh, thanks a lot…. The police will be here soon. Just so you know, the cameras haven’t been working right lately,” Chris mumbled with a look that said he didn’t want it known I was involved either.

  “Well, if you don’t mind, I think we’ll be heading off. Okay with you?”

  “Yeah, sure,” he said, clearly relieved.

  I unconsciously took Lizzy’s hand and we half ran to my car. We were not on the road 30 seconds when multiple police cars with sirens blaring blew past us. The perps were too high to give any kind of accurate description of us and what happened. Chris sure wasn’t going to help the police out. I hoped those girls would take his lead.

  I was too riled up to go to Michael’s right away, so we made a detour. The atmosphere in the car was electric as I drove to the coffee shop. We took our usual seats and I started laughing nervously.

  I looked up at Lizzy to see her smiling face, as composed as usual. And then I instantly remembered her standing calmly, wearing the same expression as now, with a gun on that big guy.

  “How did you get the gun away from that 300-pound man?”

  “I heard what was going on, quietly opened the bathroom door, and snuck up behind him. There was that flash and I hit him from behind. Joe obviously wasn’t expecting me, and he dropped his gun. I quickly picked it up and pointed it at him.”

  “Wow.”

  “I told him I knew how to use a gun and wasn’t afraid to, though I didn’t want to. He could see I was telling the truth,” she said as she played with her hands.

  I was still shaken from being held at gunpoint and rushing head-long into my would-be murderer. I felt like I’d had four energy drinks in a row, but Lizzy looked the same as always. Was she just stunned?

  “How are you feeling? You look like this kind of thing happens all the time.” I was teasing, but it seemed like I was right somehow.

  “Well, you know I’m a people person. I really can relate to people and am not intimidated by guns. I know guns and how to handle myself. But you . . . you were absolutely amazing tonight! How you kept it together, how you could see what was happening and acting the first time you saw an opportunity. I’m really impressed,” she gushed.

  “I’m not easily intimidated either. I, too, know a thing or two about guns. I also know about the crazy criminal types. I’ve been around them for years. They’re very predictable.” I wondered what she thought about this, about me.

  I looked down and noticed a large bruise on her wrist I could’ve sworn wasn’t there earlier tonight.

  I reached out for her hand and lightly stroked her bruise though my face and voice were livid. “What did he do to you?” I all but yelled at her.

  She looked at me curiously and pulled slightly away as she placed her hands in her lap, tracing her bruise.

  “This is nothing. I bruise easily,” she said with a faint smile.

  The thought of someone harming her was unmanageable. I was furious.

  This anger pulsing through me told me what I already knew. I loved her. I was in love with her and would do anything for her. I faced my own mortality tonight, but this threat and fear paled in comparison to the thought of losing her, of her hurting.

  About an hour later we both felt ready to make an appearance at Michael’s house. I wanted to ask her to not mention the gas station hold-up, but she beat me to it.

  “Would you mind terribly if we kept the excitement of the evening just between us?” she asked as we pulled into Michael’s drive way.

  I looked over and laughed, “You read my mind.”

  With that we were off to play games and hang out with our friends. And as predicted, I didn’t see Lizzy the rest of the night until it was time to leave.

  Chapter Nine: Will’s House

  We fell into a pattern. I saw her a lot at school, but we were never alone. We had class, of course, and at lunch Lizzy was usually engrossed in some intimate conversation with one of her friends. She never tired of listening to the steady stream of girls who found her, or she found—I was never quite sure which way it went.

  After work we’d hang out at the store and play music together. Stockdale Music was covered wall to wall with dated forest green 80’s carpet. The north wall was devoted to all kinds of guitars with the south side having to share space with the wind, brass, and reed instruments. The center of the store was crowded with racks of sheet music, drum kits, and spaces provided for people to try out the instruments they were considering. It was a perfect place to hang-out with Lizzy after hours.

  With her around the music flowed through me. It felt like a dam broke in my mind and ideas for new songs were endless.

  We’d go to game night on Fridays, she volunteered at a women’s shelter on Saturday, and I’d come along to help when I wasn’t working or at the food pantry. Sunday was spent catching-up on homework.

  Though this was becoming our usual routine, some nights during the week she had family obligations she didn’t talk much about.

  This coming Saturday the women’s shelter had a media event Lizzy didn’t plan on attending. I wondered, out loud, what she wanted to do instead.

  “I was kind of hoping we could play and listen to music together.”

  “Sounds good to me, but where?” The music store, our usual place to jam, was out.

  “Too bad it’s so cold outside. The park would be nice.”

  I knew my father would be out of the house all day long. Should I chance asking her over to the house? As I was mulling over this possibility, she said, “Well, maybe I should stay home and spend some time with my family.”

  She looked at me as if she wanted another option. That settled it.

  “My father won’t be home all day, and we even have a music room. Let’s hang out there.”

  I was pleased I’d have the day with her but apprehensi
ve about bringing her home to his lair, as I called it.

  She was at my doorstep around 10 a.m. I showed her around and loved her response to our outrageous house – nothing. She was interested in what I had to tell her, but there was no gleam in her eye as she spied the amounts of money that went into this showy palace, dripping off the crystal chandeliers, antique furniture and priceless (stolen?) works of art.

  My father was a collector. Not because he loved the fine and rare. Not because he appreciated the craft of others. His motivation was simple and singular, always. Power. Having fine stuff made him more powerful.

  And thus my completely outrageous car. I’d been driving it more than usual because of Lizzy’s attitude – she was not impressed.

  We spent the morning and most of the day playing and working on a song together. We had a blast. She was easy to collaborate with. I didn’t feel self-conscious around her as I tried various lyrics and arrangements. She had great ideas that improved and moved the music in this and that direction.

  By mid-afternoon we’d written a mellow song together for acoustic guitar, our song. I usually didn’t title songs, but she wanted to call it “Sweet Future.” I couldn’t wait to play it for Michael and John.

  Lizzy was too good to be true. My own personal muse.

  I’d completely lost track of time and was brought back to reality by my complaining stomach. We called out for pizza, which arrived soon after. As I went down to answer for the delivery, I was beat to the door by him.

  He turned towards me with an annoyed glare and set the pizza down on the entry table without a word. As he headed for the library, Lizzy came out from the music room humming the tune we were working on.

  My mind filled with hatred at the sight of him. His dark brown wavy hair, in a Wall-Street business-man’s cut, the same as always, not a trace of grey. He never changed. Not his appearance, not his attitude.

  Cursing him and his timing as he walked down the hall, he was almost out of sight when Lizzy stopped dead in her tracks.

  Her face was drawn and white. She rocked back on her heels and . . . and . . . blurred? She was back in the music room, head between her knees before I could react. She looked up to me, eyes wide with fright and jumped to her feet.

  “I’m so sorry Will, but I’ve got to go. I’m feeling really sick.”

  She pushed past me, ran down the stairs, was out the door and in her car before I could say a word. I saw her drive off like a bat out of hell.

  I was stunned. What happened? Was she really suddenly sick? Unlikely. I couldn’t think straight, couldn’t get my mind around what just happened. I needed time to think it through. Unfortunately, time was something I’d have a lot of.

  Chapter Ten: I Love You Too. We Can’t Be Together

  I sat down on the stairs, my mind going numb, staring at the pizza as it got old and cold. My pocket buzzed and I yanked out my phone as fast as I could.

  “Will? I’m sorry I took off like that. I feel really sick. Just wanted to let you know I made it home okay.”

  “Is there anything I can do for you? Can I bring you anything?”

  “No. I’ll be fine,” she said, though her voice wasn’t very convincing. I was suddenly very worried for her and anxious about us.

  “Please let me know if I can do anything for you.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’d better go. I’ll see you around.”

  I didn’t like the way she said goodbye. It was like she wasn’t planning on seeing me soon . . . or seeing me at all.

  Sunday was unbearable. I wanted to call her, to see if she was okay. I couldn’t wait for this wretched day to be over. I’d see her at school tomorrow and put my stupid fears aside.

  Maybe she saw the real me and said “no thank you,” or she saw the way my father and I live and was disgusted, or she saw my father and was as afraid as everyone else?

  Regardless, I would get my answers on Monday. Lizzy wasn’t one to be mean or beat around the bush. If she didn’t want to see me anymore, she’d tell me straight out.

  Just when I headed off to bed my father called me into his study. I knew immediately what he wanted.

  His study fit him to a tee. It sat in the corner of the house on the first floor. Two of the walls were floor to ceiling windows, not that you could tell. The thick brown draperies were always closed tight, not letting one little ray of sunshine in. The interior walls were hidden behind intricately hand-carved bookcases that wrapped around the space seamlessly.

  In front of the bookcases on the south wall sat a handsome desk from the Ming-dynasty. It looked out of place with the style he was going for, but his ultimate style had nothing to do with anything but looking powerful and intimidating. He did little work there.

  Despite the closed windows, the room use to look regal and cheery. A massive chandelier hung from the ceiling, making the room warm and inviting when on. But it was never on any more. Instead he sat in one of the two leather high-backed chairs that were placed opposite his desk. In between the chairs was a floor lamp that held a 20 watt bulb.

  And to top it off, the room stunk like decay – the way a room smells when you accidentally burn yourself with a match and your hair gets singed.

  Walking into his hole always made me uneasy. I never knew what was waiting for me.

  “So, William, when am I going to get to meet this girlfriend of yours?” he asked, feigning interest, Wagner’s music filling the air.

  I wanted to tell him it was none of his business. I wanted to punch him in the face. I wanted to tell him it would be a cold day in hell before I ever introduced Lizzy to him. I wanted to do all this, but I knew any one of these reactions might get him curious about her.

  “What? No, she’s just a girl who also went to BHS. I don’t know many people at the new school,” I tried to say without much enthusiasm. He was better than me at detecting lies.

  “Anything else? I’m going to bed.”

  He dismissed me with a wave of his hand and I sprinted up the stairs, hoping he wasn’t really interested or paying attention.

  I arrived at school early and went to Senior Seminar, waiting for her to appear. The bell rang and she still hadn’t arrived. When she wasn’t at lunch, I began to worry. I didn’t see her all day. She didn’t call.

  Tuesday. I was sure she’d be back in school today. She was way too responsible to miss school unless she was really sick. So when she didn’t show, my worry increased. At lunch I went to my car to call her. No answer, so I texted. Only silence from her end.

  I thought about driving by her place after school and realized yet again I had no idea where she lived. Isn’t it kind of odd that after all the time we’d spent together I still didn’t know that? If she isn’t here tomorrow, I will find out.

  Wednesday morning I finally found relief – but not for long.

  She was there, and wasn’t. I was sitting in our usual spot in Senior Seminar when I saw her walk in. She sat down next to Angie, which was basically on the opposite side of the auditorium from me.

  The lights went out and they showed us a documentary about landfills or renewable resources, I don’t really know. Was this my answer? She was avoiding me?

  I thought back to the promise I made yesterday about finding out where she lived.

  Then it dawned on me; it wasn’t just where she lived . . . I didn’t know much about her at all. She was always asking the questions, listening intently to what I had to say. I felt so attached to her because she knew me. I opened up to her like I’d never done before.

  What a jerk I’ve been! I’ve been so concerned with whether or not I should tell her the truth about me, to be the genuine me, that I’ve been the only one doing the real talking.

  It’s not like I don’t know anything about her. I know she likes classical music the most, she loves when the cafeteria serves chicken-fried steak for some unexplainable reason, and she hates to watch the TV news. I know she’s a people person, a caregiver and nurturer, generous, fair, can ha
ndle herself in a dangerous situation, is outgoing and easygoing. I know lots about her, but not much about her feelings, her past, her family.

  Was she avoiding me because her feelings had changed, or did she never have them in the first place? No. I was sure she wanted to be with me. So, then, what happened?

  One thing was certain, she was dodging me. She sat at a different table for lunch, though she did look up and smile at me when I walked by. At computer and P.E. she was engrossed in girl conversations, which wasn’t unusual, but it seemed forced on her part.

  I wasn’t going to be put off. I waited for her after P.E. as she continued her conversation with Lisa. Lisa eventually left; tear-stained face but now wearing a smile. I walked over to her as she was getting in her car.

  “Lizzy, what’s going on? What’s wrong?” I asked with more emotion in my voice than I wanted to show at this moment.

  “It’s kind of hard to explain . . .,” she trailed off.

  I wanted to get it out of her right now, even though I’d be late for work. “Lizzy, I,”

  She cut me off. “Not now, Will, you’ll be late for work.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “But I do.”

  “I’ve got to talk to you. Can you meet me tonight at the coffee shop, around 6?”

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

  “Why? What are you talking about? Lizzy, tell me now. What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

  She just stood there, staring at her feet. She suddenly snapped her head up and looked at me thoughtfully. “Okay, I’ll meet you tonight. 6 o’clock, usual place.”

  Luckily we were swamped at work. I signed one kid up for piano lessons (against his will), sold a sweet Fender guitar to a regular, and answered countless questions from holiday shoppers looking for that ‘perfect gift’ – at a discount, of course. I had little time to think about what she was going to say, though I knew it couldn’t be anything I wanted to hear.

  I got off a little bit early to make it to the coffee shop on time. She was waiting for me, holding a latté between her hands. I sat down across from her, the look on her face painful to see. She spent a few more minutes studying the golden fireplace before her eyes reluctantly met mine.