October

by J. Grace Pennington

He and I didn’t speak on the ride to the Rivers. When we pulled up, the sunlight was just beginning, casting pale blue over the cornfields, prodding Pleasanton towards a new day. The last day with Tobi.

  She would visit. She’d promised she would.

  We waited only a few minutes before she came hurrying out of the house, lugging one suitcase behind her and carrying two more over her shoulders. Jax immediately jumped out, leaving the car running, and hurried to take them from her. I watched as the two of them put all three cases in the bed of the truck. Then she climbed into the back seat.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  “Honestly... a little scared.” She laughed, a nervous laugh, and her eyes echoed her words. “But... I’ve had plenty of practice driving the past few weeks. That helps.”

  “Yeah,” Jax said.

  We drove to the car rental fleet in the middle of town, passing only the occasional car. Most businesses were still closed, with the notable exception of the Pleasanton diner, where already cars almost filled the little parking lot.

  “You going to get anything to eat before you go?” I asked.

  “No, I’ll get something on the way,” she said. “I’m not really hungry right now.”

  Silence until we were almost there. Then, “How long of a drive is it?” asked Jax.

  “About eight hours. That’s why I wanted to get an early start.”

  Eight hours. A long way for someone who had only driven around a small town. But she hadn’t had any problems with driving so far.

  When we arrived, Jax parked, then we waited outside the truck while she went in and picked up her keys. We helped her find the car, a red Toyota. Jax helped her load her suitcases into the trunk and the back seat.

  Then there was nothing else to do but say goodbye.

  Jax moved towards her first, and I watched as he pulled her close and and hugged her tightly, one arm around her shoulders, the other pulling her head gently against his chest. My vision blurred as I watched her hug back, tightly, as though she’d never let go, small and fairy-like next to his tall frame. He whispered something in her ear, and I saw her hands clutched at the back of his shirt.

  Finally, he let her go. She held on for another moment before releasing him, and then she slid her hands away. He held her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. Then he let her go, and stepped aside.

  I just looked at her for a moment. Took in every detail. The striking hair, the crystal eyes, the fair skin—the tears flowing over her cheeks.

  “Em,” she said softly, and I ran to her before she could say another word. She held out her arms and I threw myself into them, squeezing her as tightly as I dared.

  She held me close and I sobbed. Nothing was said for a moment.

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  I tried to smile, but even the effort brought more tears. “I love you too, October Blake.”

  She tightened her hold and whispered even more quietly. “Stay sweet. Promise me you’ll always stay sweet.”

  I wasn’t going to say yes without meaning it. I had to mean it with my whole heart or not at all. It had to encompass all the months, the stars, the clouds, the walks, the crying, laughing, and jumping. It had to mean singing, and stained-glass windows, and prayers.

  “I promise,” I choked.

  She let go, and her beautiful wet eyes looked deeply into mine. “Come visit me.”

  “Okay.” I forced a smile through my tears, head pounding as I finally stepped back.

  Jax was only a few feet away, and he moved closer so that the three of us formed a small triangle. He took Tobi’s hand in his. “Be strong,” he said.

  “I will,” she whispered, seeming unable to speak any louder. She reached over and took my hand. I reached over and took Jax’s.

  Jax squeezed my hand and prayed aloud. “Father... thank you for this friendship. Thank you for October. Thank you that... she cares, and thank you for... the blessing that she’s been to us and... a lot of people. Please... be close to her. Thank you. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  Still more tears slipped from beneath my eyelids as I squeezed both of their hands. I didn’t open my eyes. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to let go of their hands. Ever. October’s, warm and soft, and Jax’s, strong and calloused.

  I just wanted to stay exactly like this forever.

  Then Tobi’s hand pulled away, and I forced myself to open my eyes and look. She backed towards her car, not looking away from us.

  I couldn’t speak. I kept my hold on Jax’s hand as she reached the car door and put her hand on it.

  “Tobi... wait,” I called.

  She pulled her hand back and looked at me.

  I reached behind my neck, hardly thinking, moving by instinct, and undid the silver clasp there. I pulled my dragon necklace off, and handed it to her, not even aching as it left my hand. It felt natural, as if it had always been meant for her and I just hadn’t known it.

  “Em, no...” she protested, fingers refusing to clasp around it.

  “Take it.”

  “But...”

  “I said take it, silly.”

  She smiled, put it around her neck, and fastened it, then touched the dragon charm and nodded at me. Then she reached back to touch the door handle again. “Goodbye,” she managed, just above a whisper. Then she smiled, turned away, and got in the car.

  Jax pulled his hand out of mine and put his arm around my shoulders. I leaned my head against him and smiled through the tears. She was driving all the way home. And she wasn’t afraid. She was only sad.

  “She’ll be okay, right?” I whispered.

  Jax nodded, and pulled me closer.

  It happened much too fast. She started the car, backed up, turned, and drove down the street until she was gone. Just—gone.

  I thought of lots of things I could say. That we’d hear from her soon, that we’d visit her, that she’d visit us. But I didn’t want to say any of it. We just stood there and said nothing.

  *****

  School dragged on that day. Every class seemed harder than usual. Melissa’s prattle annoyed me more than it had in awhile. I kept thinking about how maybe I could see Tobi that night, then I would remember, and my heart would sink all the way down to the floor. Every time Jax saw me in the halls, he stopped to hug me.

  Strange how only the morning before, I had felt a certain resignation to things returning to normal, and now I most certainly did not. Perhaps the resignation had been aided by the fact that I knew there was still some change of seeing October again at any time, that the magic was only sleeping, to be awakened at any moment.

  Now that such a chance no longer existed—it was different.

  Jax and I had planned a movie night at his place, to drown our sorrows, so after school we headed out to his truck, discussing what we should watch. We couldn’t seem to agree on whether we should watch a comedy to distract ourselves, or something sad to empathize with.

  The latter was my idea.

  As we talked it out, a car sped into the parking lot and screeched to a stop right beside us. I jumped out of the way, adrenaline instantly pumping, and Jax threw an arm in front of me, more from instinct than to actually do anything.

  It was Daddy’s car. My heart settled a bit.

  “I thought I told you Jax was going to take me...”

  His expression stopped me cold. Lines furrowed his face in places I had never seen them before. His eyes—were almost afraid, but something more than that. Something deep.

  “Get in the car, Em. Jax, you come, too.”

  “But...” Jax began.

  “Get in. Your father and I will come pick the truck up later.”

  We obeyed, and my adrenaline surged gradually upward again. “What’s wrong?” I asked, climbing into the front seat.

  He kept his grip on the wheel and his gaze on the street. “I’d rather tell you at home.”

  It was the worst thing he cou
ld have said. I could have borne anything better than the terrible anxiety of not knowing, and of something so terrible he wanted us to be home before he said.

  “Is it Mom? Patrick Charles?”

  “Emily, sweetie, please just wait.”

  I closed my mouth and tried to breathe steadily. I failed. I turned around to look at Jax, whose brown eyes were wide.

  We got home faster than Daddy ever had before. He parked haphazardly and got out, then walked towards the house, calling, “Come in, please.”

  With another shared glance, Jax and I followed.

  When we walked through the door, we saw Mom, Patrick Charles, and Mr. and Mrs. Rivers all sitting in the living room. They looked up when we entered, Patrick Charles sitting on Mom’s lap, Mrs. Rivers with red eyes.

  My blood froze.

  “Sit down, Emily, Jax.” It was Daddy. He wanted me to sit. I didn’t want to.

  “What is it?” I asked, standing. “What’s wrong?”

  Jax sat down.

  Daddy looked around the room, waiting, but no one said anything. Finally, he put his hand on my shoulder and said, “There was an accident.”

  My body and mind tried in vain to prepare for what was coming.

  “October... was on her way home, and she ran off the side of the road down into a ravine. She... she died instantly. I’m so sorry, Emily...”

  I was wrong.

  This was the worst thing he could have said.

  Chapter Fourteen

  There was no way I could sleep that night.

  After the talk had ended and Jax had gone home in defeated silence and the Rivers had left, Mom had offered to let me sleep in the bed with her, so I wouldn’t be alone. I declined.

  I wanted to be alone.

  When I finally fell asleep around two a.m., I dreamed October’s car was swerving out of control and ending up in flames at the bottom of a cliff, and I woke up sobbing.

  Maybe it hadn’t been real.

  I sat up in bed. Put my feet on the floor. It was cold.

  The memory of the evening before was all too clear. It couldn’t be a dream.

  Daddy had said they didn’t know what exactly had happened, and I could read all of their faces. They thought she had done it on purpose.

  I didn’t believe it.

  After all, hadn’t she faced her fears by driving home? By insisting on short sleeves even in the coming winter?

  Those had been steps of victory.

  I stood up and wrapped my arms around myself, shivering.

  Even if I was right, then she had been killed by the very thing she had always been scared of, which was hardly better, ultimately. Either way, she had been done in by her own fear.

  I walked downstairs, softly, wincing at each creak, then across the living room floor. I unlocked the front door and slipped out, barefoot, into the night.

  The porch floor was cold. I looked out across the road, listening as leaves rustled in the breeze.

  The leaves from the woods we’d always walked through.

  I stepped down into the dirt, savoring the grainy texture beneath my toes, and walked around to the back of the house. Crossed the yard to the trampoline. Then I climbed up on it, and began to jump.

  One. Two. Three.

  God, how could you?

  Four. Five. Six.

  She had so much beauty.

  Seven. Eight. Nine.

  She was starting to get better.

  Ten. Eleven. Twelve.

  I know she was on her way.

  Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen.

  She could realize the truth.

  Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen.

  You could have helped her.

  Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-one.

  So why? Why? Why.

  Twenty-two. Twenty-three. Twenty-four.

  I heard no answer from God.

  After fifty jumps I collapsed, gasping, eyes closed, throat full of an insurmountable lump. I shivered, even though the motion had warmed me through and through.

  Would she really have gotten better?

  I couldn’t tell if this was my own thoughts, or if it was something from God. I never could tell, not for sure. But—I believed she would have. Anything was possible, especially with her magic and her love of life.

  Even if it had to do battle against her hatred of life.

  But then—I didn’t know what the rest of life held for her.

  He did.

  I opened my eyes.

  There were the stars. Full of seemingly infinite pictures, too many to see or to count or to find in a lifetime.

  They sparkled like her eyes.

  *****

  “I heard the news.”

  It was Pastor Ulrich’s voice.

  I said nothing. I hadn’t gone to the church to talk. All day long people had wanted to talk. Mom. Daddy. Melissa. Others at school. That was why I had escaped here. To think. To get away from the talking.

  I just sat on the pew and kept looking at the window, where a little fuzz of dusk-light filtered through in rainbows.

  His gentle voice spoke again, softly, coming closer. “Are you all right?”

  I shook my head but didn’t turn around. I just kept looking at the face of Jesus on the window, sad and happy all at once.

  A creak echoed through the sanctuary as he settled onto the pew in front of me, and I felt his hand come to rest gently on my shoulder. He said nothing else.

  I was quiet for a very long time, just studying the window.

  Finally I said, “Know what I was thinking?”

  He squeezed my shoulder slightly. “No. I don’t. What were you thinking?”

  I kept looking at the window. At the closed eyes of the lamb, laying peacefully in the arms of the shepherd.

  “I was thinking I was glad I got to say goodbye.” Tears filled my eyes again.

  He let go of my shoulder and agreed, “So am I.”

  I looked at the window again, savoring every line, every shape of glass.

  Jax had been right after all.

  She was going to be okay.

  At last, the Shepherd had brought his beloved lost lamb home.

  Some friendships only come once in a lifetime. Some people you meet and never forget. October Blake was that kind of person. A tragic, beautiful soul, an intertwining of life and death and joy and despair.

  To this day, when Jax thinks of October, he cries. A few tears at the anguish of the lost memories. Of never seeing her face again.

  But now, when I think of her, I don’t cry. I don’t mourn for what’s lost. Instead, I think of all she brought into my life. All I learned from her. All that God did for me through her love and her example—and yes, her warning. When I think of October, I remember the magic—not the fact that the magic was taken away. She was the most wonderful person in the world, and when I meet her in Heaven I’m going to run up and give her the biggest hug I’ve ever given anyone. I’m going to grab her hands and swing around, look again into those crystal eyes that won’t hold fear or sorrow ever again. I love October. I can’t wait for that day. And I’ll never forget the time we spent together.

  Because when I think of October, I smile.

  Thank you for taking the time to read October.

  If this book touched you in some way,

  would you consider leaving a review on Amazon?

  Special Thanks

  A book like this can never just be the product of one person. It’s such an intertwining of life with fiction, that many people probably affected it without me even noticing. But a few that I most certainly did notice shall be named in gratitude here.

  Ophelia-Marie Hughes, for being the first to ever read it.

  Jonathan Garner and Joel Parisi, for being other early readers.

  My husband Wesley, for being by my side through the editing process.

  Christopher Welch and Jack Lewis Baillot for also reading it, and giving feedback.

  The Cafe Bohemia writers group, for listeni
ng to the whole book in various states of editing, and especially Ted Telisak for his always insightful input.

  My sister Patience for the beautiful cover she crafted for the book.

  Penoaks Publishing for their always wonderful formatting.

  All the people who in some way made it into the pages of this book, through memory and imagination, whether directly or indirectly. You have all touched my life.

  And my Good Shepherd, who chased after me when I was lost, and would not let me go.

  About the Author

  J. Grace Pennington has been telling stories since she could talk and writing them down since age five. Now she lives in the great state of Texas, where she writes as much as adult life permits. When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading good books, having adventures with her husband, and looking up at the stars.

  www.jgracepennington.com

  Other books by J. Grace Pennington:

  Never

  Implant

  The Firmament series:

  Radialloy

  In His Image

  Machiavellian

  Reversal Zone

  Gestern