“Come on, time’s a-wastin’, girl. Let’s hit the trail.” Audrey marched toward the entry to the reserve, ready for her weekly dose of soul refreshment.
A green sign listed the several trails that cut winding paths of varying difficulty through the dense, quiet forest. They usually took the long, easy trail that allowed plenty of time for their boots to crunch over the packed earth, snapping twigs and disturbing leaves, working up an appetite for the breakfast at Nicole’s place that always followed. The whole time, they talked, sharing triumphs and worries and excitements, cheering each other on with the kind of sisterhood that Audrey found necessary for survival.
The forest was peaceful. This was why they sacrificed sleep on a weekend morning—for the shift of light as the sun came up, dusky tones filtering through the tall oaks and pines, lighting the path ahead of them. It was for the scent of the leaves and cool earth, for the sound of heartbeats and breaths and birds tittering. She sucked in deep lungfuls of the clear air until her head was free of cobwebs and doubts.
“You’re always here first,” Nicole said, sipping her coffee. “I’ll need to start staying up the night before to beat you.”
Audrey laughed. “Maybe I’m more eager to get out of my house than you are.”
“Can’t say I blame you. The thought of sharing a bedroom with two teenagers gives me the heebie-jeebies.”
“The girls aren’t that bad.”
“It’s common knowledge—all humans under the age of eighteen are to be avoided.” Nicole was an only child who’d grown up without much family to speak of and had zero desire to start one of her own. “Although I’m sure you disagree with that, Miss Mother Hen.”
Audrey rolled her eyes. “I’m a nice person, so sue me.”
“Too nice.” Nicole shot her a look. “You put up with way too much shit, my friend. Speaking of which, how is your dad? Is he trying to be less of an asshole these days?”
She focused on putting one foot in front of the other. “He’s fine.”
Audrey didn’t have the mental fortitude to make excuses for him today. He’d been in a mood last night, yelling at Deanna for “making too much noise” while she listened to music in her bedroom…like any other teenage girl would do on a Saturday night. But there was some prideful part of Audrey that made her feel like she still had to defend him. If for no other reason than she remembered the man he used to be.
“Every day is different, but he’s working on things at his own pace.”
Nicole looked at her with brow furrowed, most likely because she smelled Audrey’s reply for what it was—bullshit. “Those are a whole lotta words that don’t say a damn thing.”
“Grief doesn’t go away overnight.”
“Your mom has been dead for fourteen years, Audrey. I’m not saying he should get over it, but acting like a wounded bull and lashing out at his own family is not okay.” Despite Nicole’s bluntness, she was a softie at heart. And as fiercely protective of Audrey as she had been since they became friends in the fourth grade when someone was bullying Audrey for her weight. “When is your turn to grieve?”
“I’m fine.” Audrey put on her most indulgent smile, like her friend was talking nonsense.
“Have you been to visit her grave yet?”
Audrey bit the inside of her cheek. This was well-worn territory between the two of them. She could tell Nicole to mind her own business, but Audrey knew it wouldn’t stop her friend asking the tough questions.
And Audrey would be lying if she didn’t admit there was a part of her that felt deeply guilty that she’d never visited her mom’s grave. Not since the day they buried her. But there was also a part that caused Audrey to freeze up every time she even thought about setting foot in the cemetery. It was almost like she was worried that something might happen—like a floodgate might open or something might break inside her. The only way she was able to power on taking care of her siblings and putting up with her father was if she stayed positive.
And visiting her mom’s grave would not be positive.
“She wouldn’t want me crying over things,” Audrey said. “She’s gone. Looking at a plaque won’t magically change that.”
“People don’t visit cemeteries hoping to resurrect the dead,” Nicole deadpanned. “But it’s…healing.”
“Not for me.” Healing for Audrey was doing, not wallowing. Not thinking or remembering or indulging in melancholy. And it most certainly wasn’t crying, which was what would happen. “You know I like to keep busy.”
“It helps you avoid things you don’t want to deal with,” Nicole grumbled.
“Can we please talk about something else?”
Her friend looked like she was going to argue, but instead she slung an arm around Audrey’s shoulders and squeezed. “Sorry, Audrey. I didn’t mean to give you a hard time, I just worry about you.”
“I know.” Audrey brushed aside the thoughts about her parents and forced herself to turn to the positive. “Let’s talk about you. Any wins this week?”
“You mean other than not killing my boss or any of his army of sycophants?” she quipped, taking a long drink from her thermos.
“I’d say zero murders makes it a good week.” Audrey grinned. “Gotta celebrate all the wins, even the little ones.”
“Amen to that.” Nicole shook her head. Her sigh echoed through the forest, drowned out only by the soft, even thump of their footsteps. There was something magical about this place—something special in the intimacy of being surrounded by thick trunks and dense greenery, the cozy blanket of scents like earth and pine and crisp air, and the quiet stillness.
“I had dreams once, you know.” Nicole’s voice didn’t waver. “I had dreams of being a Hallmark cliché—I was going to start my own business and buy a big house and marry a guy who wanted to fuck me every night.”
“Pretty sure there’s no fucking in Hallmark,” Audrey said with a snort.
“Don’t you ever feel…” She stomped her foot, trying to loosen some of the moist earth that had gathered there. “Like time is slipping away from you? Like those dreams might up and leave if you don’t do something about it?”
The question struck Audrey hard in the chest. It was like being run through with something cold and impenetrable. Realization. That’s what the feeling was—the realization that her dreams were getting away from her. That by the time her siblings were all safely out in the world, there might be nothing left in Audrey’s future except serving coffee and selling crystals.
What matters is making sure Deanna, Oliver, Georgie, and Jane all make something of themselves and that you do your mom proud.
“Aren’t dreams a bit…” Audrey lifted one shoulder into a shrug. “Self-indulgent? That sounds harsh, and I don’t mean to be. Maybe I mean more that dreams are for people who’ve got survival sorted out.”
And she hadn’t yet. Not quite.
Nicole looked at her curiously. “You don’t think you’ve got survival sorted out?”
“It’s a work in progress.”
“You can still dream even if you don’t have the basics locked down.” Nicole shook her head. “Hell, dreams are what make survival worth it. It’s the light at the end of the tunnel.”
“It doesn’t feel like a light to me.” Sometimes, dreams were more like a noose. “All I’m saying is that I’m grateful for what I have. I could have less, so I don’t want to waste time thinking about what I’m missing out on. It’s not productive.”
Namely, she didn’t want to spend any more time mooning over Professor Ronan Walsh. Since their trip to the bookstore yesterday, he’d been on her mind. Constantly. In fact, she’d burned the family’s dinner last night because she couldn’t stop thinking about him.
That’s why dreams were dangerous. You could spend a whole life chasing something that wasn’t meant to be, only to end up missing out on the joy of
what was right in front of you.
She forged on ahead, leaning into the slight incline of the earth. Audrey enjoyed the brisk walks and getting her heart rate up, even if nothing ever seemed to budge her weight.
That was one of those things—she could be unhappy that her genes meant even smelling a cheeseburger caused the pounds to stick to her hips and waste time wishing for slimmer thighs and a smaller waist. Or she could, as she chose to, be grateful for the fact that her body was strong and allowed her to work, to get out and enjoy nature and to fill out the chest area of all her tops very nicely.
It was all about perspective.
“That’s very practical,” Nicole said, catching up to her easily.
“Exactly.”
“But don’t you want more than practical?”
Yes.
“No.” Audrey shook her head resolutely. “Practical is important. Being happy is important. And I can’t be happy if I keep wanting what I can’t have.”
“I think it’s sad that you believe you can’t have dreams.” Nicole’s dark eyes narrowed with worry. “You deserve dreams.”
“I’d rather have reality.”
She loved her friend dearly, but they were very different people. Nicole was driven by her restless dissatisfaction and a hunger for more. Audrey was driven by responsibility and duty. Therefore, sacrifices had to be made. And she was more than happy to let go of lofty ideals in the pursuit of something tangible.
Her one little concession would be a dirty dream or two about Professor Ronan Walsh, because Audrey was human, after all.
…
The following Thursday, Ronan found himself wandering the Harrison Beech college campus after his work had gotten the better of him. It felt so small compared to Cambridge and Harvard, and so…new. Unlike the centuries-old universities of his previous experience, Harrison Beech had opened its doors in 1958. Some of the newer buildings weren’t erected until the nineties, and one particular upgrade had been completed a scant five years ago, with modern architecture and lots of glass.
It was a nice college. Not prestigious, but the staff seemed passionate, and he’d met plenty of students who were eager to learn. There were definitely worse places he could have ended up.
He made a start toward the sports stadium, which housed the baseball diamond. There was an exhibition match on tonight, and he got the sense it was a big deal and that it might be good form for him to show up. Besides, he’d spent the last few hours sitting in his office and staring blankly at the pile of research in front of him, trying to figure out how to make it tell a cohesive story. He needed a break.
Kissing Creek felt like a detour on his life map—almost as if he’d taken a wrong turn but was enjoying the scenery enough to take the long way around to his next milestone. Of course, being close to his grandmother was essential. In fact, he was heading to Boston this weekend to see her and finally meet his nephew in person.
There was something hanging over his head, though—a worry about being back home. About seeing his little sister in her new role as mother and wife. How would that make him feel? He’d always felt a bond with Keira, like they were kindred spirits weathering the same life storms and protecting each other.
How many times had he held her while she cried after their mother left yet again? After she missed another birthday or Christmas?
Yet Keira had gone on to do the complete opposite of what Ronan expected: she’d built a family. She’d trusted herself enough not to turn out like either of their parents. She’d risked giving her partner the power to hurt her. To leave her. All because she loved him. It was encouraging, to see how she’d grown and changed as a woman. Yet Ronan was floating through his personal life, using his work as a distraction while calling it a dream.
The stadium had people of all ages streaming inside. Most people wore red. He spotted T-shirts with the local team’s logo on front—a llama head with a flame surrounding it.
Lily.
At one point, he would have said a llama was a stupid choice for a team’s namesake—weren’t all teams supposed to be named after fierce things, like bears and cougars and other things that would frighten Dorothy the second she stepped off the yellow brick road? Only now, Ronan knew better.
He’d back Lily in a fight against most things.
Ronan followed the crowd into the stadium. Food vendors were lined up in a neat row, ready to feed the hungry masses. He spotted hot dogs, pizza, and even a cute little pink pop-up stall that appeared to be selling donuts.
He was headed toward the bleachers in front of left field when he caught sight of a familiar blond head.
Really—it’s Audrey’s head that you noticed first?
Ronan shut his snarky inner voice down. Okay, so maybe he’d noticed Audrey’s body being spectacularly hugged by a denim dress. The fabric was soft and well-worn, and it fluttered around her legs as she walked. A red ribbon decorated her ponytail, and she wore a red belt at her waist.
“Audrey!” He called her name without thinking, and much like anything to do with her, it was based on instinct rather than rational thought. It was almost as if there was something inside him that was magnetically drawn to her—like he couldn’t not call out if he saw her. “Hi.”
She whirled around and blinked. “Ronan, hi.”
God, she was so pretty. Like really pretty. A sheer red gloss made her lips shine, and she had a pair of chunky black sunglasses perched on her head.
“You look great.” Not appropriate, professor. “I mean, I like the way you’ve incorporated the team colors into your outfit.”
She looked genuinely pleased at the compliment. “Thanks. Someone stole my Flames T-shirt, so I had to get creative.”
Her eyes darted over to a teenage girl who was heading toward them, a spitting image of her. “This is my little sister, Deanna.”
“Nice to meet you, Deanna.” He stuck his hand out. “I’m Ronan.”
“Professor Ronan,” Audrey added.
“Hi.” Deanna smiled up at him. She was all arms and legs and big, inquisitive eyes. But there was no denying the resemblance in the small, freckled nose, heart-shaped face, and ready smile that matched Audrey’s. Deanna peered at him curiously. “Do you know a lot of things, then? I bet you have to be smart to be a professor.”
“Your sister certainly seems to think so,” he said, shooting Audrey a knowing smile. She laughed and made a mock awkward expression. “She likes to quiz me about things professors should know.”
“Oh yeah?” Deanna looked at her sister with interest. “Do it now.”
“We shouldn’t.” Audrey shook her head.
“Go on,” he said with a smile. “Ask me something.”
“What’s the most innings ever played in a game of baseball, and when did that game take place?” Audrey asked. “Bonus points if you guess which two teams were playing.”
Shit. Of course it would be a baseball-themed question. Ronan didn’t follow baseball too closely—which, coming from Boston, was basically a criminal offense. “This is a terrible time to admit that I have never sat through a full game of baseball.”
Both of the women looked at him like he’d sprouted a second head. “Not once?”
“Not once.”
“That’s almost…blasphemous.” Audrey blinked.
“Go on and guess anyway,” Deanna said, grinning like an evil little sprite. Looks like she shared a spark and spirit with her big sister as well as all that blond hair.
“Based on my limited knowledge…” And even calling it limited was generous. “I feel like a record number of innings would probably have been set a long time ago. Maybe pre–World War II.”
Ronan caught a flash of surprise across Audrey’s face, a subtle quirk of her eyebrows that told him he was on the right path. He might know jack shit about baseball, but reading people was defin
itely one of his skills.
“I’m going to guess 1920s,” he said. It was a total stab in the dark, but Audrey’s expression was carefully arranged not to give a thing away…which in itself was giving something away. The lack of smugness told him he might be right. “Number of innings…”
Hmm. Baseball had nine innings, right? Or was it eight?
You’ll never be allowed to enter Boston ever again.
“Let’s say thirty innings, and the game was Boston versus…” Crap, what was one of older teams again? “New York.”
“Well, well, well.” Audrey bobbed her head. “Not bad for a fake professor.”
Ronan laughed. “That’s not nice.”
“Can I tell him?” Deanna asked, looking up at her sister, who nodded. “The most innings ever played in a Major League baseball game was in 1920 when Boston played twenty-six innings against Brooklyn. Although, that was the Boston Braves, not the Red Sox. And back then, Brooklyn were the Dodgers, until the team moved to L.A.”
“Wow, that’s impressive.” He blinked. “Do you like baseball?”
“Sure.” Deanna shrugged in that noncommittal way that only a teenager could. “I like hot dogs more.”
Audrey laughed. “Subtle. Okay, let’s get you some food, and then we can take our seats.”
Deanna skipped ahead and grabbed a place in the line at the hot dog stand.
“Now I have two of you quizzing me,” he said with a shake of his head as they walked slowly toward the food stands.
“You can quiz me back,” Audrey replied with a sweet smile. “Since you think I’m a trivia genius and all.”
“Challenge accepted. Figure out something that Audrey doesn’t know…” He tapped a finger to his chin, and she laughed. “How many parts of the human body are unable to heal themselves?”
She looked at him almost like she was insulted. “Depends on how you want to count them, but if we do it as a collective, then it’s one. Human teeth are the only part of the body that doesn’t repair itself.”
Kissing Lessons (Kissing Creek) Page 7