The Essential Elements: Boxed Set

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The Essential Elements: Boxed Set Page 6

by Elle Middaugh


  I immediately thought of my parents, how they’d met and married within the span of a few short months. How in love they’d stayed until the day she died, and beyond. They were clearly unafraid of heights, and risks.

  “No,” I said quietly. “It didn’t happen during the quake.”

  “Oh thank god,” he whispered breathlessly as he dropped his hands from my face.

  Confusion jerked my features into an immediate frown. “What were you hoping it was from?”

  His hands curled through his now-sopping blond hair and he turned away, exhaling loudly. “I don’t know, Valerie. I was just…so afraid. So afraid that you had been hurt during…all of that.” He slowly disentangled his hands from his hair and stared at them, terrified. “I would have never forgiven myself.”

  “Hey,” I consoled him softly. “I was scared for you, too.”

  Curse the peonies that chose that exact moment to blossom in my cheeks. I wanted so badly to reach out and touch his arm, to feel the vibrant energy that sparked and flowed between our limbs when they touched.

  So I did. I actually did.

  My blood was thrumming as I slowly reached out and brushed his biceps delicately. Sparks snapped excitedly within my fingertips and my heart rushed.

  “I went to look for you in Mrs. Caldwell’s room,” I admitted a little too breathlessly, “but you were already gone. I wish I would’ve just gone there first…” The relief of knowing he was okay swam through me a second time at the recollection.

  Chuckling almost humorlessly, he said, “You don’t need to worry about me.” He pulled slightly away and dug his hands into his jeans’ pockets. He stared at the ground as his sneakers toed bubbly circles in the rainwater. “So, what did happen to you?”

  The truck sat, idling away in the middle of the road. The rain continued to pour, falling softly all around. No one else came. It didn’t surprise me.

  I sighed and pursed my lips. “I got into my very first fistfight.”

  His eyes darted to mine hastily. “With who?”

  “Loren Marlowe, of course,” I muttered disdainfully.

  Out of nowhere, there was a loud splintering noise, followed by a slow creak, and then a heavy boom. Involuntarily, I leaned away from the woods and cringed. “Aftershock?” I asked timidly.

  “Tree falling,” he muttered. “It happens sometimes.” He glanced carefully through the forest before turning to me. “How about that ride home?”

  “Sure,” I accepted with a shy smile.

  He opened and closed the door for me before hopping into the driver’s seat. I watched silently as he ruffled some of the water out of his hair. The aftereffect was mouthwatering. I tried to erase the image from my mind, but it remained burned into my vision. We buckled our seatbelts, he shifted into drive, and I swore we were already halfway home. Our hour-long walk was about to be condensed into ten minutes. My heart fizzled.

  “So…” he said.

  “So,” I agreed with a smile.

  His eyes squinted as he thought. “I have an ointment at my house that’ll do wonders for your battle wounds. It’s sort of a home remedy that I put together, but I promise it’s better than anything you’d get over or under the counter.”

  My slight hesitation was evidently humorous to him. His smile broadened as I finally asked, “Did you say you put it together? As in, you know anything about the healing properties of plants?”

  “I’m learning,” he replied with a shrug, one hand on the wheel, one hand on the leather stick. “Have you ever been in the woods behind your aunt’s house?”

  “No. I like to walk, like, on the road, and be around nature that way, but I’ve never really been in the woods. At least not on purpose.”

  He frowned thoughtfully. “Why not?”

  “Well.” I exhaled and tried to put my finger on it. “There weren’t many opportunities for it in Norfolk, and when I came to live with Aunt Marge, I’d usually just stay in my room.” There were other reasons, too—girly reasons. I was almost too embarrassed to admit them. “Also, I hate bugs, especially the flying kind, and the woods are full of them. And…I love shoes.”

  “Shoes?” he asked, humor swirling through his features and his tone.

  “Shoes,” I agreed with a delighted grin. “And the ground is kind of…dirty? No, that’s not what I’m trying to say. I’d totally walk barefoot through the mud, no problem. But with shoes…” I sighed. “I don’t like getting my shoes dirty.”

  Cade laughed right out loud and dropped his head to the wheel. He peeked at me from the side. “You know they make certain footwear specifically for getting dirty in the woods?”

  “I suppose,” I hedged. “But I don’t have any. Only cute stuff, like these.” I directed his gaze to my sandals. Lime green circles of various sizes bubbled up the center of my foot.

  “No boots, huh?”

  “Nope.”

  “No sneakers either?”

  “Only white ones.”

  His amusement was growing. “No white ones you’d be willing to sacrifice to a bit of dirt?”

  My eyes widened. “That would be heinous, Cade Landston!”

  “Tell you what.” He chuckled as he pulled into my aunt’s tiny driveway and put the truck in park. “Have a walk in the woods back there. Go barefoot if you have to. I promise you won’t get lost.” His eyes twinkled as he fought a smile. “There’s this beautiful weeping willow tree back there with these intricate twisting branches. You’ll know it when you see it. It’s right at the edge of a small golden field.”

  “Okay?” I asked curiously.

  “You just have to see it,” he said respectfully. “I love nature. I think it’d be really cool if that was a fondness we both shared. You could love nature, too; you were just never really given the chance.”

  “Maybe…”

  I stared at him for a few moments, debating, when a thin stream of horizontal airborne water caught my attention from out back. Aunt Marge had lost control of the hose. Again. She usually muttered something about water never being cooperative before strangling the thing and forcing it to spray in the general direction of her desired flower. No matter that it was already raining; this was Marge we were talking about.

  For some reason, I really didn’t want to draw the attention of my aunt, and the longer we sat in his big black truck, the more sure I was she’d come rushing around the corner chasing that damn hose.

  Leaving Cade’s side was the last thing I wanted to do, but I reached for the door handle anyway. Surprisingly, he caught my hand before I got halfway to the lever, and our fingers laced.

  “Valerie…” His tongue snaked across his lips almost nervously. “I’ll be there this evening, at the willow. Waiting for you. So, please…show up?”

  Chapter Seven

  I stood dazedly in front of my colorful shoe collection, worrying my bottom lip. There was nothing suitable in there for a hike through the woods—nothing I’d be pleased with parting with anyway. I sighed dramatically, but this was for Cade, and ultimately that meant sacrifices had to be made.

  “Goodbye,” I said mournfully as I grabbed a pair of white sneakers with navy blue accents.

  Blue jeans slid up my legs easily and a snug shirt slipped over my torso smoothly. I threw a dark blue hoodie over my shoulders to top it off, for two reasons. First and foremost, it perfectly matched my shoes. Second, I had no idea how long I’d be out in the woods. The autumn days might’ve still been pleasant, but the nights were surprisingly chilly—but that wasn’t really the point either. The thing was, I didn’t want to get eaten alive by bugs.

  I checked my reflection in the mirror. The balm Aunt Marge had given me earlier was an absolute lifesaver! I’d never seen skin mend, swelling go down, or bruises fade quite so quickly. Then again, I really had no experience with such things. I was just glad that my pretty face was almost back to normal. I didn’t need the attention it would draw the next day at school.

  The image of a concerned Holden cr
ossed my mind: him demanding to know how I’d gotten the bruises so he could take care of the situation for me. I smiled, then pushed it quickly from my mind. This was not the time to be thinking about him.

  I dabbed another bit of the balm on my abrasions, then stepped out from my room.

  Aunt Marge sat board straight engulfed in the television. I thought for sure her TV never left the weather channel, but that night she had opted for the local news. I stood silent in the hall as I watched the report.

  “An earthquake with a magnitude of four point three on the Richter scale struck central Pennsylvania today with absolutely zero warning,” began an overly articulate female anchor. “Luckily, there was no significant damage. A few historical business buildings downtown reported minimal structural damage, with a few brick walls crumbling slightly more than before, but nothing that would cause a collapse.

  “Local senior high school, Center Allegheny, evacuated earlier today, but is expected to resume classes as usual tomorrow.”

  The reporter glanced at her papers, then stared dramatically at the camera. “The erratic weather patterns happening all over the globe have been easy to dismiss over the years, but now that the chaos is hitting closer to home, the issue is harder to ignore. Our very own Catherine Baker spoke with a number of local business owners. Catherine?”

  “Hello, Cherie! I’m standing in downtown Center Allegheny with a number of concerned citizens, first of which is Henrie Landston, of Landston Logging and Reforesting.”

  My heart began hammering in my chest; I took a moment to pray that Aunt Marge couldn’t hear its telltale beating. This was the first and only glimpse I’d ever gotten into Cade’s family life. The town was small, and I knew who Cade’s father was, but I’d never seen him.

  “Mr. Landston, what are your thoughts on today’s local record-breaking quake?”

  The video feed cut to the image of Henrie Landston, and my jaw plunged to the floor. He and Cade were most definitely related, father and son who could’ve passed for brothers. Even their eyes were both that same shade of captivating green. Speaking of Cade…was that him standing behind his father?

  Henrie began, “My first thought was of how unusual it was for Pennsylvania to have an earthquake of any noticeable magnitude at all. In my opinion, that, coupled with that high intensity thunderstorm, screams that there’s something wrong with the atmosphere, and consequently the environment.”

  Catherine glanced at her papers. “I understand that your career is, literally, cutting down trees. How does that add to the overall unhealthiness of the planet, in your opinion?”

  He smiled knowingly. “I’m glad you asked. At Landston Logging and Reforesting, after we cut, we seed and transplant, not only for grass, not only to replace the trees that were lost, but to double that of the original tree population. If we cut ten, we plant twenty saplings, and so on. We most definitely have the wellbeing of the Earth at the fore of our intentions.”

  “And what about you?” Catherine asked, diverting her attention to the young man behind Henrie. “What’s your name?”

  “That’s my oldest son, Xavier. He works on our reforesting crew,” Henrie clarified before stepping slightly out of the way.

  Xavier. Of course. I vaguely remembered him from my freshman year at Center Allegheny. He’d been a senior at the time, and just as elusive as Cade was now. Maybe it was genetic?

  “Do you have any additional thoughts or opinions to add?” Catherine asked Xavier, holding the microphone toward his handsome face.

  “I think my father is right.” Xavier stared at the ground in thought before bringing his blue eyes to rest on the camera. “Too many people are being careless. Emissions are neglected, pollution is spreading, greenhouse gasses are thriving, and then they wonder why Earth is negatively changing. This doesn’t surprise me one bit.”

  The camera honed in, then, on just Catherine’s face. “We also spoke with Darren Hughes of Hughes-Sharpe Law LLC.” They cut to a debonair man with a chiseled jawline and a closely manicured beard. “Mr. Hughes, I understand you were at your downtown office at the time of the quake?”

  I stopped paying attention as soon as the Landstons’ segment was over.

  What the hell was it with this entire town freaking out about the weather? Okay, sure, I’d questioned it myself while I was in the middle of an earthquake-thunder-shitstorm, but that was a moment of frailty, nothing more.

  I glanced once more at my aunt. “Aunt Marge?”

  She nearly leapt from her skin. “Holy Spirit, child! You scared the shit out of me!”

  I couldn’t help it, I laughed out loud like a villain. “Sorry! I just wanted to let you know that I’m going for a walk out back.”

  “In the woods?” she asked curiously. “By yourself?”

  Hesitation swirled through me like a fog. “Sort of? I’m meeting a friend at a tree, but I’ll be walking alone, yes.”

  She jabbed a finger in my direction. “He who has no enemy, has no friend.”

  I snorted. “Oh, I have an enemy, trust me. Remember this?” I said as I pointed to my face.

  Her expression softened. “Just be careful, Valerie.”

  “All right,” I agreed. “See ya later.” I slipped through the side door and into the slightly dusky air. It felt beautiful out, but then again, it always did to me.

  Warily, I looked around. Of all the things out back I could have been worried about—snakes, porcupines, bears, or mountain lions for goodness sake!—all I could think about was dirty sneakers, gnats, buck flies, and mosquitoes.

  I pulled up my hood and began picking through the undergrowth. There appeared to be a path up ahead, perhaps worn in by deer, so I made my way in that direction. Fallen logs and branches littered the forest floor, along with old mulched leaves and a few greens that were still desperately clinging to life. I ducked out of the way of low hanging branches, but the spider webs… It was almost impossible to dodge them all. I snorted and pulled at the sticky string that crisscrossed my face.

  Finally, the deer path.

  It was narrow, but clear, and that’s what really mattered in that moment. I didn’t know much about wildlife, but when driving, I always saw deer accumulating in fields. If Cade’s willow tree was bordering a field, and I was standing on a deer path, then A plus B equaled C, and that path ought to have led me straight to it. Logic and reason. Or guesswork… Either way, I didn’t have a better plan, so I trudged onward.

  The rain from earlier had my poor sneakers suction-cupping to the ground, throwing me off balance and wearing out my legs quicker than usual. Even with a layer of squashed vegetation, I couldn’t seem to help sticking to and slipping in the mud. I was constantly grabbing stray branches to keep myself upright, fumbling along that stupid deer path with no guarantee that it’d even lead anywhere. It felt like I’d been at it for an hour.

  It lead up a steep hill and I paused, leaning against a small tree as I contemplated whether or not to continue on. There was a good chance this was a dead end. Then again, gaining a higher vantage point might be extremely helpful. I sighed and lowered my hood, then swiped at the thin film of sweat that was budding on my forehead and began the almost vertical ascent up the hill.

  I latched onto a sturdy sapling near the top that bent completely over but didn’t dislodge or splinter, and I used it to drag me toward a thicker tree. The last one didn’t budge, and I heaved myself over the crest with almost no grace.

  It paid off. At the top of the hill rested a big, golden plateau of a field. On the far side, a single weeping willow in the foreground of an infinite line of insignificant forestry. It was huge, far greater than I had imagined, and more beautiful, too.

  Or maybe that was because Cade sat at the roots, leaning against the wide trunk, lending his own gorgeousness to the scheme of things.

  I ducked before he could see me—or so I hoped. I took a minute to wipe at my face again. Who knew what sweat and dirt might be streaking there? I took particular care to r
ub under my eyes where mascara had a tendency to smudge—and not in a sexy, smoky kind of way either. More like a crying zombie kind of way. My fingers came back clean, and I had no choice but to assume I looked the best I possibly could in that situation.

  Curiously, I cocked my head to the side and studied the ground. Flowered vines laced intricately through the golden weeds, forming a path of sorts. It was no more than three feet wide, and it seemed to lead straight to the willow. I recognized the blossoms from Marge’s own garden. There were two different kinds of vines, currently with both closing and opening buds: morning glories and moonflowers. Day or night, this little path would always be recognizable by its blooms.

  I smoothed my ponytail and slowly rose. I followed the flowered path as gracefully as I could manage with the weeds trying to catch my sneakers, and with Cade’s emerald gaze now on me. His grin was crooked and nearly mirrored my own too-wide smile.

  “You came,” he nearly shouted as he stood and strolled to meet me.

  “I barely made it,” I said, allowing my tongue hang tiredly out of my mouth.

  He laughed and reached for my hands, our fingers lacing as invisible electricity jumped through my nerve endings. I can’t believe he just did that.

  He brought our hands to my face, tracing the healing line of my cheekbone. “Your face…” he whispered, almost terrified. “It’s…healing. Rapidly. How?”

  “Aunt Marge had a balm she lent me.”

  “A balm.” He sounded suspicious.

  “Yes, a balm. Isn’t that what you were offering me earlier? Some natural remedy that would heal better than over and under the counter drugs?”

  He heaved a heavy sigh, but didn’t look convinced. “I suppose.” He reluctantly let it slide. “At least you’re better, one way or another.” Grinning, he lowered himself onto a white and green striped blanket, pulling me down with him by our interlocked fingers. I couldn’t believe they were still holding on.

  I slid him an incredulous glance. “You’re in a very good mood.”

 

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