by Mary Cope
Spencer’s approval had me eager with enthusiasm. I traced the outline of the lighthouse with the tip of my index finger, and goose bumps rose on his flesh. I turned his arm and admired the detailed script and beautiful foliage. Again, I traced the outline, but this time my attention was on the elegant wording. Fight, Faith, Finish. I felt like I should stop, but I couldn’t. Seizing my moment, I picked up his hand, finally able to study the script encircling his ring finger. Amato. I mouthed the word and looked into his heated gaze. Realization crept in, and I immediately backed away, ashamed.
“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was doing. I wasn’t thinking.” I dashed toward the front door muttering. “I’m so sorry. I should go.” In my haste, I bumped into a small table. A potted plant fell to the hardwood floor and shattered, scattering ceramic pieces and dirt everywhere. I fell to my knees and began picking up the destroyed planter. I could feel the tears starting to come while embarrassment and shame washed over me. The familiar touch of Spencer’s warm hand was on my shoulder.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered. Spencer’s compassionate eyes focused on mine as he brought me back up to my feet.
“It’s not a big deal, Elizabeth. It’s just a plant.” Spencer brushed a tear from my face. I couldn’t look at him. His handsome face and tender heart overwhelmed me.
“I’m so sick of you seeing me cry.” I wiped the rest of my tears and backed away from him.
“There is nothing wrong with tears, Elizabeth. Tears cleanse the soul.” His words were like a blanket that warmed me.
“Thank you, Spencer.” I smiled when he walked past me to get a broom. After we cleaned up the mess, we sat back down at the kitchen island.
“Will you tell me about your tattoos?”
Spencer glanced down at his arm, picked up his glass, and tilted his head. “Follow me.”
Intrigued, I grabbed my water and followed him down the hallway to his bedroom. Spencer motioned to the bed. “Sit.”
I did as I was told and sat on the edge of his bed. Spencer took my water and placed it on the bedside table, next to his orange juice. He entered his closet, and I heard him moving things around.
I took the opportunity to inspect the surroundings of his bedroom. The floor-to-ceiling bookcase was packed with an impressive collection of authors. Some were familiar to me. Some weren’t. I loved that he was a reader because I was one too. Throughout the bookcase were several groupings of framed pictures.
Spencer’s furniture was a dark wood, and the walls were painted a light shade of tan. It seemed to flow with the rest of the house. His bedspread was tan-and-black-striped flannel. His desk area was stacked with papers, open college books, a small desk lamp, and a computer. To the side of the desk was his electric guitar.
Spencer emerged from the closet with a photo album in hand, and he placed it on the bed. He walked over to the photographs on the bookcase and grabbed one. He took a sip of his orange juice, inhaled a deep breath, and sat next to me. He handed me the framed picture, allowing me to study the image. It was a lighthouse, the same one Spencer had inked on his arm. The artist had done an amazing job, because the likeness was identical. Standing in the foreground was a family. Spencer cleared his throat before he pointed to each person in the picture.
“This is my mom, Sharon, my father, Matthew, my sister, Sierra. You know these two, Shawn and Simon. This is me.” Spencer’s expression was that of pride and despair.
“What a beautiful family,” I whispered. Spencer’s father had the same facial features, same prominent dimples, and the same grey eyes.
“How old are you here?”
Spencer hesitated before he answered. “It was about a year before my father died, so I was eleven.” He was quiet for a few minutes, looking at the picture.
“I’m so sorry, Spencer.” I placed my hand on his tatted arm. “You don’t have to tell me anymore.”
“No, Elizabeth, I want you to know. The first time you asked me I wasn’t ready, but I am now.” Spencer cleared his throat again before he began to tell me about his pained past.
“My father was on his way home from picking up Sierra from dance class.” Spencer softly laughed at the memory. “Sierra loved to dance. She was always spinning around. It used to drive me nuts.” He shook his head and rolled his eyes at the memory. “Anyway, they were driving down the street, and a car on the opposite side was waiting to turn left. An SUV tried to go around the car, but it was going too fast. It swerved, hit the curb, skidded across the street and slammed into my dad’s car head on. My dad died instantly.” Spencer’s voice was just above a whisper. “Sierra hung on for two days before she passed away.” After a few silent minutes, he exhaled and began again. “The guy that killed them had been drinking. He was just under the legal limit. He had a good lawyer, ended up pleading No Contest, was sentenced to eleven years for vehicular manslaughter, and was out on good behavior in seven.” Spencer shook his head back and forth.
I picked up the frame and glanced over the picture again. “How old was Sierra?”
“Sierra was eight, Shawn was four, and Simon was just a baby.”
It all started to make sense to me. Spencer’s protective nature. The way he took care of his brothers.
“So you helped raise your brothers?”
“Not at first. I was pretty messed up after Dad and Sierra died. We all were.”
Spencer got up from the bed and placed the photograph back on the bookshelf. He grabbed the photo album and sat back on the bed, leaning against the headboard. He motioned for me to join him. I crawled up along his side, and he placed the album between us. He began to show me more pictures of the lighthouse. He pointed to a picture of his parents standing in front of it. They were young, and it was just the two of them.
“My dad had a thing for lighthouses. He and my mom met here.” Spencer turned the album so I was able to look over all the pictures. “This is Pigeon Point Lighthouse in Northern California. They both were staying at the youth hostel there.” Spencer showed me several pictures of the housing, more of the lighthouse, and several group shots. I gasped when I recognized a young, familiar face.”
“Is this Lance?”
“Yes, they were best friends.”
“Lance never mentioned he knew you.”
“I asked him not to. I wanted to interview with the church on my own. I didn’t want Lance to influence them.” Spencer shrugged.
I brought the album closer so I could get a better look.
“Look how thin Lance is.” I smiled.
“I know, right?” Spencer laughed. “He’s a good old guy.”
“Did Lance help your mom when you were growing up?” I closed the album and gave Spencer my full attention.
“More than you know.” Spencer leaned his head back against the headboard.
“What do you mean?”
“After Dad and Sierra passed, I was in shock. Not wanting to believe it. I wouldn’t talk about it, wouldn’t acknowledge it. Lance was always there to check in on me, on all of us.” Spencer shook his head in disbelief. “Lance gave me my first guitar and taught me to play. I was such a jerk to him, but he never gave up on me.”
Spencer turned his gaze toward me, and those same stray hairs fell against his forehead. I resisted the urge to move them while he continued on with his story.
“My mom was so worried about me. She didn’t know what to do. She had me see a therapist from church. I hated it. I just went through the motions, going because she wanted me to.” Spencer reached up with one hand and pushed away the errant hairs from his forehead.
“I was angry for a long time. I got hooked up with the wrong crowd and started drinking and smoking pot. Pot was my vice. It made me forget, feel numb. I was so depressed, and when getting high didn’t help anymore…” Spencer hesitated before he spoke again. “My new vice was sex. I was sixteen, knew the girls were attracted to this face, so I used it. I slept around… a lot. But that changed with Lance.”
; “What happened,” I asked, not taking my eyes off him.
“He hooked me up playing with his church band. I went just for the music and loved it. When Lance heard my voice, he wanted me to be the lead singer. It scared the crap out of me.” Spencer glanced my way. His lips curled up into a ghost of a smile. “So, you see, I do know how it feels to be nervous, ‘cuz I sure was. Anyway, Saturday nights I was sleeping with girls, and Sundays I was singing songs in church. It started to get to me. A few days before my nineteenth birthday, Lance spoke to me about life not being fair, choices, and sin.” Spencer stopped talking. His eyes shifted to his lap and then back to me. “It broke me.”
I lifted Spencer’s left hand and pointed to his tatted ring finger.
“What does this mean?”
“My father was Italian, and my great-great grandparents were from a small village in Italy called Amato.”
“Amato?” I blinked up at him.
“It means beloved. Someday, my wife’s going to cover this with a ring. It’s my reminder to wait for her.”
His sad, beautiful confession, combined with the look in his eyes, was getting to me. My stomach fell, and my heart sank when realization set in. The possibility Kara could become that to him was like a dagger to my heart. I turned away from him just as a tear started to fall. “Spencer, I’m so sorry you lost your father and Sierra.”
He lifted my chin to make eye contact and brushed away the tear. “Hey, I didn’t tell you all this to upset you. I just wanted to answer some of your questions.”
He was so close to me I was getting lost in his eyes, and his gentle touch was starting to consume me. In hopes of dismissing my battling thoughts, I backed away and asked him something else. “Is that why you have so much?” I sniffed.
“Yes. Life insurance policy.” Spencer wiped away another stray tear from my cheek.
I glanced at his bedside clock. It was just past midnight. “I’d better go.”
Spencer got up and moved while I scrambled across his bed.
“Okay. Let’s go.” Spencer reached out to grab my hand, but I shook my head.
“I’m good, thanks.” I knew the feel of his touch would be too much. Between my heartbreak from Aidan, my feelings for Spencer, and his relationship with Kara, I knew I had to get out of there. Spencer opened the door and began to walk me out. I placed my hand on his chest and stopped him before he could follow me.
“No, no. It’s okay. I drove tonight.” I made my way to my car and got inside, leaving Spencer standing in the doorway as I drove away.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It was a sunny Friday, day six post-Aidan. Summer was just a month away. Senioritis was running rampant through our graduating class. Since the weather had warmed up, more kids were cutting school. I wasn’t one of them. It just wasn’t my thing.
Posters lined the school walls: senior breakfast, grad night, and the one that was like a knife in my heart… prom. I had been so excited when Aidan bought our tickets, but now it was just a painful reminder of what could have been.
I pushed my way out the doors of the C Building, and there he was. My stomach did a few flip-flops while I observed him. He was standing next to a brick bench, near a tree. There was a slight breeze in the air, and I watched as his hair fell perfectly into place.
I had avoided him all week. And here he stood, surrounded by a bunch of girls. Word was out we had broken up, and the vultures were circling. Just like old times. Aidan hadn’t seen me, so I took a few minutes to watch him. Kind of like the first day I’d seen him, back in the lunchroom.
He was smiling his movie star smile that had the girls giddy. Even though Aidan had betrayed me, and I’d been the one to end things, it still hurt to witness the old Aidan back in action. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I made my way toward the parking lot.
I was just about to unlock my car door when I heard faint footsteps coming my way. Aidan’s voice said, “Hey.”
We hadn’t seen each other since our heart-wrenching goodbye in the park. After several uncomfortable moments I broke the silence.
“How are you?” I knew it was a dumb question, but I didn’t know what else to say.
“Honestly? Pretty crappy.”
I glanced away from his pained expression. A few girls were pointing and whispering.
“I miss you, Liz.”
“Aidan, stop.” My heart was beginning to thaw, and I knew I had to get away from him. “Look, I’m gonna take off.” I reached for my car door.
“Wait a sec.” Aidan stroked my left arm. “I want you back, Liz. I’m so sorry. I just want you back.”
Aidan tried to pull me in close, but I held my ground. The sadness in his face broke my heart. His look was so desperate and sincere I felt myself weakening. I wanted to hold him and tell him everything was okay until… the wind picked up. Aidan’s button-down shirt began to ripple in the breeze, instantly transporting me back to that night, that horrible night. Vivid images of Nina’s body wrapped around Aidan’s flashed through my mind. My hand came up to stop him from talking. I shut my eyes tight and shook my head back and forth, trying to shake the seared memory from my brain. I stepped back and unlocked my car door.
“I can’t do this.” My voice was shaky and came out in a whisper. I got inside and shut the door. Aidan slammed his hand down on the roof of my car before I sped out of the parking lot.
****
Saturday morning I didn’t feel much like running, but I decided it might help pull me out of my funk. Donning my usual garb, I grabbed Maggie’s leash, clipped her to it, and headed out the front door. When I jogged past Spencer’s house, my mind was consumed with thoughts of him. He had shared so much with me and finally opened up. It pained me to think he would be doing the same with Kara. I hated myself for feeling that way. My only hope was, as time passed, I would eventually get through it and be happy.
Maggie and I rounded the corner and entered the creek bed. It was packed. Summer was in the air, and it seemed like everyone in Dana Point was out enjoying the day. I ran at a quick pace with Maggie at my side. There was an overweight girl up ahead doing her best to maneuver herself through the crowd. Watching her brought back memories of how difficult it had been for me to get the weight off. I still felt fat sometimes. I knew I wasn’t, but I wondered if the feeling would ever go away. When I passed her, I wanted to smile and say something encouraging, but I remembered how I felt during my struggle. If anyone had said anything to me, I would have hated it. I just kept running and hoped I would see her on the trail in the future.
At the park I climbed the stairs, and, when I reached the top, I was surprised when I saw Shawn and Simon.
“Lizzie!” Simon shouted. He threw his arms around me while Maggie pranced around us. What a sweet kid.
Shawn casually walked over to us, all cool, like, I’m a teenager. “Hey.” He gave me the customary head nod.
“Hi, guys.” I glanced around looking for Spencer, but I didn’t see him. Kara was not in sight either. “So, are you guys playing football?” My eyes were still scanning the park.
“Yep! Ya wanna play?” Simon started pulling my arm toward the grassy area.
“No, not today. I have Maggie and some stuff I gotta do.” I actually didn’t have to do anything. I just was trying to stick to my vow of me time. “Where’s your brother?”
“Bathroom,” Shawn answered. But Simon cut him off.
“Yeah, he said he felt like he was gonna barf.” Simon’s facial expression was all contorted, like he might barf. I glanced toward the park bathroom.
“Has he been in there a long time?” I asked.
“I guess.” Simon was petting Maggie. I glanced at the bathroom again, and Spencer emerged. His hair was pulled back and he was wearing a white, sleeveless t-shirt and loose, black shorts. From far away he looked perfect. When he saw me, he smiled and walked toward us.
“Hi, Elizabeth.” Up close he didn’t look so good.
“Are you okay?” I reached ou
t and touched his arm. He felt clammy and warm.
“No, I feel awful.” Spencer turned toward the boys. “Hey guys, I thought I was up to playing, but I gotta get home.”
Simon let out a whiny “Aww,” and Shawn jogged over to pick up the football.
“You look terrible. Do you want me to drive you home? That is, if you don’t mind dog hair in your jeep.”
“That’d be great.”
We all crammed into the jeep, and I adjusted the seat and mirrors. The boys were in the back with Maggie between them. Spencer was in the passenger side with his head tipped back on the headrest and eyes closed.
“Maybe we should go to Urgent Care?” I was starting to get worried about him.
Spencer didn’t move. He just weakly said, “No. Home.” He never opened his eyes.
When I pulled into his driveway, I got out and scurried to his side of the jeep as he was getting out.
“Do you need help?”
“No, just open the door please.”
I ran ahead and had the door open before he got there. Simon had Maggie, and I asked him to put her in the back yard. Spencer went straight into his bedroom. I wasn’t sure if I should go back there, so I made myself busy.
The kitchen was a mess. I opened his cupboards in search of canned soup, crackers, anything he might want to have. Nothing. I opened his fridge and grabbed the orange juice. I poured a glass and headed down the hallway. Simon was in the yard playing with Maggie, and Shawn was texting on the couch near the piano.
Spencer’s door was open. I was expecting him to be in his bed, but he was in the adjoining bathroom. His bed was a disheveled mess. I placed the orange juice on his bedside table and pulled his covers up, then down on one side, so it looked inviting. I thought he might need some aspirin or something, so I went in the extra bathroom and rooted through the contents of the medicine cabinet. When I found some ibuprofen, I grabbed two and went back to his bedroom. Spencer was in his bed with the covers pulled up around his neck. His eyes were closed. I felt his forehead. Hot. He opened his glazed eyes.
