“We’ve met. In first period,” I say, turning to Jimmie. I shake my head. Everybody knew my mother. From what I hear she was so beautiful she could have had any man. And she settled for an Indian. Was it possible that Mr. Maguire even had a thing for her? Uncomfortable, I shake away that thought.
“Are you ready?” I ask Jimmie.
“Yeah.” I can feel his eyes burning into me, and I’m waiting for the conversation that’s coming once we clear the building and all these people. He holds it together until we reach my Jeep.
“Why didn’t you call me when you opened that locker door?” he demands, standing in front of the driver door so I can’t get in. Usually Jimmie is pretty good at keeping private things private, but right now he’s angry and worried sick. He hates this town as much as I do. So he doesn’t notice Griffin hovering at his own vehicle, a Porsche. Should have known.
“It was a joke, Jimmie. A stupid joke.”
“Like hell,” he spits, shaking his head. “It’s an attempt to see how you’re going to react Lizzie. They need to know it’s not okay. Maybe I couldn’t do anything about your parents and the things they had to go through in this same high school, but this time it will be different. If I have to go up there every day, wreak havoc on all the school board members’ lives. Whatever it takes, you will not have to face that.”
“No harm, no foul,” I say, raising my hands in surrender. Griffin is now peering with open amusement at Jimmie’s rant, shaking his head as though he can’t really believe anybody’s parents actually do this.
“Any ideas who did it?”
“No. I met a few kids, but I don’t really think any of them hate me. So your guess is as good as mine.”
He forces himself to take a calming breath and try to shake off the anger. “Sorry, Lizzie. This small-town hatred just sends me over the edge. I wish we’d never returned to this place. So what’s this about you falling asleep in class?” He arches one eyebrow, demanding an answer. “I thought you were sleeping okay.”
“I am. It’s that all the unpacking and moving are tiring, Jimmie.” From my peripheral vision, I see Griffin get into his sports car. He revs the engine loudly, causing us both to face the noise.
“Let me guess, a Hauser kid, right?” He nods toward the Porsche, open disgust on his face.
“Yeah, Griffin Hauser, stud and all around gift to women.” My tone is laced with enough sarcasm that even Jimmie laughs.
“I guess I don’t have to worry about you with stupid teenage guys. You act just like your momma. God help the first jerk who gets on your bad side.” He pats my shoulder. “Let’s go home, Lizzie.”
“I’ll be there in a few. I just want to go by the cemetery and see Mom’s grave.”
A frown hoods his eyes, and he’s looking at me very strangely, like he’s not happy about my newfound interest. My mom’s been dead so long, he’s sure that’s not it.
“You’ve never been to her grave before. You want me to come?”
I shake my head. “No, I’ll be fine.” I’m not about to tell him that I’m looking for a teenage boy, not my mom’s grave. I want to see if Lev is there. It’s a long-shot, but it’s definitely worth freezing my butt off for. I shove the key into the door and unlock it.
“Just be careful.” I can tell by the hard set of his jaw and his stiffness, he doesn’t feel comfortable leaving me to my own devices. Although Jimmie’s not my dad, he’s the only father I can remember, and he tries hard to do all the right things, which tells me that if he’s this nervous about this town, he’s got a good reason, and maybe the graffiti isn’t just a joke.
I climb into the Jeep and start the engine. He’s still standing there when I pull out of the parking lot, and Jimmie has gone to his car and started it as I drive to the cemetery. Although I don’t know where Mom’s grave is, I will look. After I find Lev.
As I climb out of the Jeep, I see the first hesitant snowflakes gently tumble from the sky, gracefully dotting the landscape. At first I think I’m just imagining them so I look harder. Nope, it’s really snowing, and judging from the puffed out clouds, these first few flakes are the beginning of the snowstorm that Jimmie has threatened.
A cold wind cuts through me, and I zip my coat, tucking my long hair into the hood that I draw around my face, trying to retain all the warmth I can. Here goes nothing, I think. My hands are freezing. The harsh breeze chaps my dry lips, and for just a split second I contemplate returning to the Jeep and picking this up before school tomorrow.
That’s when I spot the house just past the large bridge at the border of the cemetery. The house is almost completely hidden by a line of bushes. Curious, I head toward a single-lane bridge over a frozen river, probably pretty deep in places. It’s hard to tell because of the ice covering it. Although most bridges have safety rails, this one is old enough so that besides the support beams, there is nothing blocking the water below. Holes in the wood beams suggest a rail was there at one time but it has been removed. The bridge itself is slick with ice, and in a smarter moment, I would have thought twice about crossing it. Today just isn’t that smarter moment. Desperate to explore, I scurry across it. My feet hit a patch of ice. I try to regain my balance. Then I fall toward the side as open as the sky. I reach for some part of the rail and grasp air.
I plummet toward the river. I think it will be cold, but I’m not expecting the slam of my right hip and shoulder against the ice. Then the cold. Shocked, I inhale, trying to flail upwards. The water is deeper than I thought. I can’t breathe.
Chapter Three
Something grabs me, yanking me upwards. I’m cold. So cold. My body shakes violently and my teeth chatter. I have no control over them. Arms lift me.
“Elizabeth? Can you hear me?”
The voice is strange. Deep and rich.
“Open your eyes.” The voice is more desperate.
I blink. Lev. He exhales in relief and shakes his head. “Only one river, and you fall in.” Another heavy sigh. “Let’s get you inside.”
He’s carrying me. My head rests against his chest, and his clothes are just as wet as mine. My eyes are heavy and want to close.
“Hey!” he says, jostling me. “Nap time was history class. You’ve got to stay awake.”
“It’s c…cold.” I look at him, expecting his face to be flushed from the cold water, but his complexion is golden. Even his breath is slow and calm.
“I know. The house is just ahead. Then we’ll get you warm and dried, but you have to stay awake.” He frowns at me and swallows hard, his dark blue eyes full of something I can’t read. Whatever emotion it is, it hurts, and it seems as though it’s aimed at me.
“I…I know you” I whisper as we reach the house. He twists the doorknob with one hand and pushes it open with the other.
“Course you do. We have history together.” He offers a smile and then shifts his attention. “Celia? I need help!”
A girl with the same golden blonde hair appears. She’s much shorter than I am, her body so demure she looks like a delicate ballerina. Her hair falls in tight ringlets around her oval face, framing soft perfect features. It hurts to look at her. His sister, perhaps?
“What happened?”
“She slipped off the bridge. She’s freezing.”
“Take her to the bathroom while I get a change of clothes. Start her a warm bath and I’ll be right there.”
“Okay.” He carries me through the house to a hallway and turns into the doorway on the left. Once inside, he looks me in the eye. “I need to set you on the counter so I can start the bath, okay?”
The moment he releases me, I feel the shudders ripping through my body grow more desperate. In the background, I hear water running. Everything blurs and feels funny. The world starts to tilt. Then his hands grip my arms.
“Hey, there, no falling off,” he says. I can hear a forced calm in his tone.
“Okay, I’ve got her,” Celia says.
“I’ll be right outside.” He squeezes my arm.
“Cee will take care of you.”
I open my eyes and find his mysterious blue ones staring at me, a worried frown tugging at his lips. Then he walks away and closes the door. Immediately Celia tugs the saturated coat from around my body. I try to help get the wet clothing from my body, but my fingers cramp and they fumble uselessly.
“You look absolutely blue,” Celia says. Once the wet clothing has been removed, she helps me into the warm water that at first feels so hot but then, as it washes over me, my internal body temperature adjusts, calibrating itself to the warmth of the water.
She pulls the curtain closed to afford me privacy. “Will you be all right by yourself?”
“Yes,” I manage, the chatter in my teeth slower, quieter.
“Once you’re ready to get out, there’s a clean towel to dry with and a set of Lev’s sweats. You’re probably too tall for my clothes. I’ll be right outside in case you need anything.”
“Okay.” I focus on my breathing as I hear the door shut, leaving me with my thoughts. I drift in the warm water until I feel warm enough to get out. I draw the curtain back and find myself standing in front of a full-length mirror. The walls are a light blue, and a framed print of a beach at sunset hangs on a wall. A basket of shells sits on the counter by a cluster of white candles.
Stepping out of the tub, I see large red areas on my shoulder and hip where I crashed into the ice. As I run my fingers over them, pain explodes beneath the skin, confirming the bruising that will show in a few hours. Still trembling, but ever so much closer to warm than I was, I grab the towel and dry the bathwater from my skin before stumbling into the fresh clothes which have been set out for me. As the comfy fleece covers my body, I realize just how big Lev is and how small I am compared to him.
My hair is wild, and I try to brush my fingers through it, but that does nothing to tame it. My face is flushed, my lips chapped, and I really look ill. Because I didn’t eat lunch, I can feel my stomach reeling. If I don’t get a snack or something, Celia is going to find me on the floor, passed out.
Dreading the embarrassment, I open the door and slip into the hall to find Celia standing next to the bathroom door and Lev just across, one shoulder leaning on another door with his hands deep in his jean pockets. He wears a white knit shirt and different jeans. His bare feet seem pale against the wood floor. He straightens his posture when he sees me and pulls his hands free.
I step into the hall, my feet unsteady just like my muddled thoughts. Immediately his hand touches my arm, bracing me. Our eyes meet, and he reads my face.
“You don’t look so good, Elizabeth.” He guides me into the living room and eases me onto the sofa. One wall has a massive bookshelf with lots of leather bound books. An old framed map hangs on another wall. On the fireplace hearth, scattered amid all the pictures of Lev and Celia, I see an old compass, and an ancient camera. The strangest thing is that I don’t see a television or a stereo system.
Celia brings a bowl of chicken soup. “Sorry that it’s instant, but at least it’s warm, right?”
“Right.” My trembling hands take it, and Lev hovers, probably expecting Ms. Graceful will dump it.
“What a day to take a swim,” Lev says, raking his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what you Texans do, but we generally discourage swimming on snow days.” As he moves his hand, I see the bracelet even clearer, but I can’t tell what it says, at least not until I catch his wrist and read it for myself. Expecting to find his full name, the word etched in a cursive font is “hesed.” I stare at the bracelet for a moment longer, trying to recognize the word, but I don’t. So I look up at him from where he has decided to perch on the armrest of the sofa.
“What does that mean?”
“Love.” He nods to my soup. “You should get some of that down before it gets cold. Nothing like chicken soup after it’s lukewarm.”
Nodding, I pick up my spoon and fill my mouth. As soon as the broth and noodles hit, the warmth suffuses through me. I continue eating, with Lev and Celia hovering, her watchful blue eyes vigilant.
“Where am I?” I ask, as Lev takes the empty bowl from my hand and gives it to his sister.
“Would you like some pound cake?” Celia asks, taking the empty bowl. “We just picked some up from the store.”
“No, thanks.”
Lev gives her a strange look, shakes his head, and then turns back to me.
“The house in the cemetery. Are you warm enough?”
I nod. “Yeah, how is that possible?”
“My father is the groundskeeper.”
At the mention of the word father, I all but jump up. “Oh no. My guardian is probably freaking out. How long have I been here?”
“An hour or so.” He shrugs, as though he’s not sure. “Your clothes are in the dryer. They should be dry for you to take home, except your parka. But I have a coat you can use.” I look at the sweats, and Lev catches my drift. “Don’t worry about changing right now. You can bring them to school.”
“Thank you. For everything.”
Lev chuckles and stands. “A ‘thank you.’ For everything no less? I figured after school you’d be ready to kill me when you found out I was the snitch about the mirror.” He reaches for my hand to help me up.
“So it was you.” I look at the sweatshirt, bothered by the length of the sleeves. Lev also notices this and rolls one up first and then the other.
“Yep.” He arches one eyebrow in a challenge. “Still, I owe you one. You falling in the pond was my fault, actually.” He looks over my head, out the window where the snowfall has picked up considerably, confirming Jimmie’s promise of winter in Massachusetts.
“Your fault?”
“I was supposed to have fixed the handrails last summer but didn’t. So you slid right into the pond and I had to fish you out.” Our gazes lock, and as I stare at his beautiful face that seems to glow, I feel my heartbeat pick up.
“Lucky you.”
“Yeah, sure. This is me complaining. Can’t you hear all the whining?”
“No,” I say, laughing. “You’ll have to whine just a little louder.”
He nods to the window. “You should probably get home before the roads get nasty and your father goes nuts worrying about you. Celia bagged your clothes and I’ll get one of my coats you can use. The last thing you need is to go wandering around in this frigid weather without something warm on.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it. But Jimmie isn’t my father.”
“Oh.” He looks away as if embarrassed. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay.”
He peered down at my bare feet and I wiggled my toes in embarrassment. “I’ll find you some boots, too. Can’t guarantee they won’t swallow your feet, though”
I stand and look around, searching for my purse as Celia approaches me with my bagged clothing and shoes.
“I’ll get the coat back to you tomorrow when it’s dry, if that’s okay.” She offers me the other stuff.
“Did Lev put my purse somewhere?” I ask, knowing that without my keys I’m not going anywhere.
“It’s probably in the bottom of the river, Elizabeth.” He hands me a coat. “Truthfully I was more worried about getting you home and warm than seeing if you had everything that you came with, if you know what I mean.”
“Yeah.” I slip the coat on and then take the rain boots he offers, careful not to balk at the huge size. “Umm, I think this just got a little more complicated.”
“How so?”
Blushing, I shrug. “I think my keys are probably at the bottom of that pond you fished me out of.”
“Looks like I’ll need a coat, too, if I’m driving you home. So just hold that thought.” He walks back to the coat closet, pulls out a thick black leather coat, and slips his arms into it.” Then he nods at me. “Are you ready to go?”
For a moment I find myself gazing into his blue eyes, breathless as he towers over me. His arms dangle at his sides, and he stands perfectly still, seemingly as
mesmerized by me as I am by him.
“Shouldn’t you get her home?” Celia asks, touching his arm.
“Yeah, I guess I should. Your guardian will be worried.” His voice is rough-silk music, the ends unraveling. Lev blinks and looks away. He reaches into his jeans pockets and pulls the keys out. Then his hand touches the small of my back, gently guiding me toward the door. Though I try to walk as normally as possible, my feet constantly trip over each other while Lev and I walk outside and start toward his pick up. My left foot tangles with the other and I start to fall. As Lev’s arm remains wrapped around me, his hold tightens, anchoring me against him. My head presses against his chest, and I inhale sharply from my own clumsiness.
“You all right?” he whispers, his grip steady, unwilling to release me.
“Yeah. It’s just been a long day.” I close my eyes, so tired.
“All right.” Without warning, he sweeps one arm under the bend of my knees and lifts me. As he touches my hip, I flinch and a gasp of pain rattles through me.
“What happened?” His hands, once so sure, waver and his steps falter.
“I hit the ice when I fell. That’s all.” Too tired to fight, I lean against his chest, savoring his body warmth. “Why are you carrying me?” I murmur, feeling sleep reaching for me.
“You fell off the bridge with your shoes on. I don’t even want to take a chance with boots that are too big. I need to get you home in one piece.”
The fluid motion of his steps halted, and I realized he is opening the passenger door of an old brown truck. Once it swings wide open, he carefully slides me onto the seat. Already I feel myself in the twilight of unconsciousness, bordering on the place where dreams find me almost every night, but right now the exhaustion is so great, I don’t care. I crave sleep as my head leans against the headrest. Through half-shut lids, I see him lean over me, his face close to mine, and buckle the seatbelt that his fingers draw the slackness from.
He stands upright, staring, a wistful expression on his face. Then, his mouth switches back to the neutral frown while he closes the door then walks to the other side. Shoving the keys into the ignition and starting the engine, he asks, “You still awake?”