“You usually ride the bus?”
She considered explaining that Heath used to drive her, but that her brother had made Heath drop out of school. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. Eli was embarrassed because his sister talked a lot. What would he think of her completely screwed-up family? “Yeah.”
“You don’t have a car?”
She shrugged. “I can drive and all, but I never got my license.” Heath had always driven her everywhere. It hadn’t seemed important. But now Heath didn’t have his truck anymore. And he didn’t have time to take her anywhere, anyway. He worked constantly.
“Really? Why not?”
She poked her taco stuff some more. “I don’t know. Guess there was no one to take me to the DMV or whatever. It can get busy on a farm, and it’s just my brother and me now that my dad’s gone.”
Eli nodded. “I can see that.” He took a bite of his sandwich, chewed, and swallowed. “I could take you sometime if you want.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, sure.” Eli set his sandwich down. “You know, it’s true what Isabella said. We’re always new. Doing nice things for people is a good way to make friends. And, um, I’d like to be your friend.”
She felt shy. “I think I’d like that too.”
* * *
Cathy shifted back and forth on her feet outside of Eli’s car.
“You can take the front seat,” said Isabella. “That way you and Eli can hold hands.”
Eli glared at her. “Stop being a twat, Isabella. I just met Cathy. She’s probably got a boyfriend, anyway.”
They were in the parking lot outside school. Eli had offered her a ride home. He was in her seventh period chemistry class, and she’d volunteered to be his lab partner. She liked the way he kept looking over at her during class. He thought she hadn’t noticed, but he had.
He was like the sun—golden, bright, warm. And he liked her.
Isabella rolled her eyes and got into the back of the car. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
Cathy looked at the asphalt. “I, um, nothing really official, I guess.”
Eli opened the door to the car for her. “Really?”
She couldn’t meet his gaze. She got into the car. It was only that the whole thing with Heath sometimes seemed like it was weighing her down. Heath talked like they were practically married, but he’d never even asked her to be his girlfriend. She was only sixteen. What if she wanted to kiss more than one guy before she died? Was that such a crime?
She buckled herself in.
“You, um, like Nirvana?” asked Eli.
She turned to him, surprised. He was so clean and preppy. “You like Nirvana?”
He laughed. “Yeah. And Pearl Jam and Smashing Pumpkins. Why wouldn’t I?”
“You just look like someone who listens to…” She cocked her head. “Boyz II Men or something.”
He laughed harder. “You don’t like the way I look?”
“I didn’t say that. I…” She felt stupid.
Isabella poked her head up between the seats. “I keep telling Eli that if he grew his hair out, he’d look like Kurt Cobain. What do you think?”
Cathy dragged her gaze over Eli, taking him all in. “No, you’re more attractive than he is.”
“What?” said Isabella. “Nobody’s more attractive than Kurt Cobain.”
Eli fumbled through his music collection and slid in a CD. He hunted through the tracks, and “About a Girl” started to play.
“I like this song,” said Cathy. But she felt like a traitor, because she usually listened to it with Heath, the two of them curled up together somewhere, his lips on her skin. She looked out the window.
Eli pulled out of the parking lot, and Cathy watched the trees go by as they drove away from the school. It was early fall. The leaves were starting to change. They listened to the music. The song ended and another started.
Eli asked her for directions to her house, and she told him.
“So, Cathy,” said Isabella, as they pulled up the driveway to the farm, “you got a brother or something? That way I can double with him when you and Eli go to the prom.”
“Jesus,” said Eli. He put the car into park. “You’re such an asswipe, I swear.”
Isabella giggled. “Oh, don’t be stupid. She totally likes you. You’ll be in the back seat of this car together by Halloween.”
Cathy blushed, thinking about kissing Eli. He had nice lips, and he was clean-shaven, not like Heath, who only seemed to run into a razor twice a month. She wondered if Eli’s skin would be smooth when she ran her fingers over it.
“So, do you have a brother or not?” said Isabella.
“Uh, he’s older,” said Cathy. “Like twenty-two. And he’s, um, seeing someone.” Fran had moved in, actually. Her and that squalling baby of hers.
“Too bad,” said Isabella.
“Thanks for the ride,” said Cathy. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I could, um, pick you up?” said Eli.
“Um… okay,” said Cathy.
“Who’s that?” Isabella broke in. “I can tell he’s not your brother. He doesn’t look anything like you.”
Isabella was pointing at Heath, who was walking up the field. His shirt was off, and his hair was pulled into a ponytail at the nape of his neck.
Cathy’s lips parted. She hadn’t realized he was getting so… muscular. She guessed that would happen if someone spent a lot of time lifting things and working really hard.
He turned dark eyes on her. Sweat glinted in the afternoon sunlight, making his torso glow.
“That’s Heath,” said Cathy.
“Wow,” said Isabella. She fanned herself.
Cathy glared at her. “He’s not—” She broke off, looking at Eli. “He works for us.” She got out of the car. “Thanks again for the ride.”
She watched the car pull out of the driveway. Dust furled up behind it, and she felt a little bad because Eli’s bright blue car would be dirty now.
“Who the fuck was that?”
She jumped. Heath had appeared next to her, silent as a shadow. He was at her ear, his face close to hers.
“People from school,” she said. “They gave me a ride home.”
“Yeah?”
She backed away from him. “You’re sweating, and you stink.”
His jaw twitched. There was accusation in his black eyes. Hurt.
She turned away from him and ran towards the farmhouse.
2013
The farmhouse was gray and stately, tucked down a twisting road, behind fields and fields of unruly weeds. Thera parked her car behind Linton’s and stared at up at the house as she shut the car door. Stone siding, pillars holding up the porch, a high peaked roof, the house loomed tall over both of them. A breeze blew past, making the nearby trees whisper, and Thera felt as if the house were whispering a warning down to her.
Maybe she shouldn’t go inside.
Linton took her by the hand. “Come in, come in.”
She shot a look back at her car. Maybe she should get back inside it and drive back home.
Linton tugged on her.
She took a step. “Doesn’t anyone farm this land anymore?”
“Nah,” said Linton. “My father doesn’t need the money, and he says it was never profitable, anyway. We have a garden out back. He tends that some.”
She stepped up over the stone steps onto the porch. Instantly, the air felt cooler. They’d been sucked into the shade, the cool stone.
Linton swung the door open—a screen door, fairly modern. It stood out in high contrast to the rest of the house.
They stepped inside a tiny foyer. Steps wound up in front of her to the second landing, where there was a balcony. A set up like that generally made a house feel open, but this was too stifling and small. Even the open air above her head seemed oppressive.
To one side, she could see a living room. To the other, some kind of den or parlor. A narrow hallway between the steps and the den led
into the depths of the house.
The wooden floor was warped and ancient under her feet.
And a man appeared at the top of the steps.
He was about her father’s age, but he was taller and darker. His shoulders were broader. His hair was very long. It fell in rich, black waves over his shoulders, reaching halfway down his back. He had olive-colored skin and huge dark eyes, fringed with such heavy lashes that it looked like he was wearing eyeliner.
He smiled at her, but his smile was cold. “Good work, Linton. Perhaps you’re not the most useless thing I ever brought into the world.”
He began to descend the steps. He was wearing leather pants and a black button-up shirt. There were silver rings on his fingers. He looked like an aging rock star. He looked like a harbinger of the apocalypse. He looked like a vampire from one of those shows on the WB. All he was missing was a flowing cape.
Cathy backed up, reaching for the door. “You know, I’m just realizing that I really do need to be getting back home.”
“But we haven’t even had the chance to meet.” He was in front of her then, offering her his hand. “I’m Heath Galloway.”
She put her hand in his. “Thera Linton.”
“Yes,” he said. “I would know you anywhere. You look like her. There’s not very much of your father in you at all, thank heaven.”
She tried to pull her hand away.
He held it even tighter. “Come with me, Thera. I’ll show you to your room.”
“My room? But I’m not staying.”
He raised his eyebrows. His dark eyes were empty and vacant, and they made her feel off balance. Linton has his eyes, she thought.
“You’ll make her stay, won’t you, Father?” said Linton, sounding delighted. “No one can say no to Father.”
Heath chuckled. He cocked his head to one side. “How do you suppose Eli will feel when he discovers you’re missing? Do you think he’ll feel even an ounce of the kind of pain he’s caused me all these years?”
Thera’s heart started to pound. It was very possible that Heath Galloway was insane. There was something in the way he was looking at her. Desperate now, she tried to pull her hand away from his.
Heath laughed. He tugged her up against him. “You’re not going anywhere, Catherine Linton. I’ve got a notion that I’d like to get to know you better.”
She struggled, thrashing in his arms, frantic to free herself.
But his arms were iron bands.
He threw her over his shoulder like she was a sack of grain, and he started up the steps, his laughter echoing in the stairwell—deep, rich, and full.
1993
Fran cocked her head. “You need more makeup.”
Cathy looked in the mirror. Fran was behind her, heavily lined eyes and dark red lips. “I don’t know.”
Fran chuckled. “Don’t worry. Not as much as me, sugar.” Fran’s voice was raspy, probably from too many cigarettes. She leaned over Cathy, her low cut shirt exposing her lacy red bra, and hunted through Cathy’s makeup bag. “This.” She held up an eyeliner pencil.
Cathy took the pencil. “You really think so?”
“Just lightly, sugar.” Fran called everyone sugar.
There was a loud wail from downstairs.
“Shit,” said Fran. “He won’t stay down for a nap, I swear.” She headed out of the room. “I’ll be right back.”
“It’s fine,” said Cathy, still surveying the eyeliner. She squinted at herself in the mirror, then uncapped the pencil and applied it around her eyes. She used her finger to smudge it. Then she drew back, considering.
She was getting ready for homecoming, and for a dress, she’d just gone through the attic until she found her mother’s old slips. She was wearing about three of them, layered on top of each other. Her hair was in a top knot, but she’d spent hours getting the right amount of tendrils to fall down around her face so that she looked disheveled enough.
She thought that Fran might have been right about the eyeliner.
But maybe she should go and ask her, just to make sure. Matt was no help whatsoever, of course, and there wasn’t anyone else around to ask. She guessed she could call Isabella and describe the outfit to her, but Isabella wouldn’t even get it. Isabella had probably bought her dress at the mall or something.
Cathy trooped down the steps. “Fran?”
“Out here, sugar!” came Fran’s voice from the front porch.
Cathy pushed open the front door.
Fran was standing at the edge of the porch with baby Gage on her hip. He was contentedly sucking on a pacifier and tangling his fingers in his mother’s hair. “Looks good,” said Fran. “Don’t you think so, Heath?”
He was staring at her.
He was dirty, smears of something black all over his face, hands, and white t-shirt. He held a can of soda in one hand. He leaned against the porch, his flannel tied around his waist. He watched her as he took a swig of soda.
“Um, hi,” she said, feeling stupid.
Fran looked back and forth between the two of them. “Maybe I’ll leave you two alone for a minute. You like the soda, Heath?”
“It’s good,” said Heath. “Thanks, Fran.”
“Don’t tell Matt I gave it to you.” She swept back into the house.
Cathy wanted to follow her. She wanted to run away.
Heath scratched the back of his head. “Why are you dressed like that?”
“It’s homecoming,” she said.”
He set the soda down on the porch. “Homecoming.”
“You’ve heard of it, haven’t you?” For some reason, it seemed easier to insult him than to talk to him.
“I didn’t think school dances were our thing, Cathy.”
“Maybe they’re not your thing,” she said. “But you never asked me if I wanted to go to a dance. You never asked me a lot of things, Heath. You just kind of assumed.”
Heath took another drink of soda. “Someone picking you up? That kid that always takes you to school?”
She shrugged. “What if he is? It’s not like you ever asked me to be your girlfriend or something.”
He laid his head against one of the pillars on the porch. He looked up at the sky.
And then, out of nowhere, she felt like crying.
“I guess I thought we were bigger than stuff like that. Labels. Girlfriend and boyfriend, whatever. All I know is I’m yours. And you’re mine,” he said.
“It’s a group thing.”
“A group thing?”
“Just a bunch of people going together,” she said. “I’m not… with him.”
“That supposed to make me feel better?”
Her mouth felt dry. “I don’t know.” She turned to go back into the house.
“Cathy.” His voice broke.
She stopped.
“You look beautiful.”
And she did cry then. Her tears were ruining her makeup. She turned back around. She wiped her face, and she went back to him, jumping down off the porch. “You could come get me. Later. Matt goes out on Fridays, and when he gets home, he’s usually wasted. He won’t notice if the truck’s gone. Just come to the parking lot around ten. I’ll meet you. We’ll drive around or hang out or something.”
His gaze flitted up to meet hers, and then he shrugged. And, as usual, his shrug was epic. “What about that guy?”
“What about him?”
He laughed a little, the sound almost bitter. “I’m just supposed to be okay with it?”
She swallowed. “Yes. There’s nothing going on with him and me.”
He picked up his soda and turned away. “Right.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“I’ll see you at ten.”
* * *
“Where are you going?” Eli was behind her in the empty hallway of the school.
Cathy hadn’t thought he’d seen her go. She’d been in the gym, at the dance. She’d even let Eli dance with her a few times. She’d been close enough to smell the
mint of his toothpaste, the spicy scent of his aftershave. He’d smelled so… clean.
She stopped, turning back to look at him. “The bathroom.”
Eli grinned. He sauntered forward. “You walked by the bathrooms.”
“Did I?” She swung her purse into her bare knees.
“I can’t figure you out, you know that?”
She shrugged. “There’s nothing to figure out.” She started walking again.
Eli kept coming behind her. “You keep running from me, but I can’t help feeling like you want me to chase.”
“I’m just going to the bathroom, Eli. I don’t know why you’d want to follow me.” But she couldn’t help smiling. Maybe she did want him to chase. Maybe some part of her wanted that. Which part, she wasn’t sure. Everything was so confusing these days. She knew she loved Heath, that their connection ran deep. But Eli was exciting.
Heath was so intense. Eli was light and fun. He made her smile. Heath made her feel like her soul was being squeezed.
Eli caught her by the shoulder, turning her. “Cathy, why wouldn’t you come with me to this dance, just you and me? Why did you make me dig up all those people? Why’d it have to be a ‘group thing’?”
“I didn’t make you do anything.” She sashayed backwards, inching out of his grasp.
He caught her again, and he held her more tightly this time. “If you aren’t interested in me, just say so.”
She rolled her eyes. “Eli, don’t be so serious. We’re just having fun, right?”
“Why can’t you be straight with me?” he said.
“Maybe because you can’t catch me,” she said, laughing. She took off away from him, running down the empty hallway, streaming past the lockers and the silent, dark classrooms. Her laughter bounced off the ceiling, off the tiled floor.
And then she was at the door. She flung it open, bounding down the stairs and into the parking lot. She didn’t bother to look behind her.
Heath was parked across from the door. He stood outside the truck, leaning against it, smoking a cigarette. He’d cleaned up since she saw him last, but he was still scruffy, and he still hadn’t shaved. His hands were shoved in his pockets, and his posture proclaimed that he didn’t give a fuck about anything. But his eyes lit up when he saw her.
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