by Debra Doxer
“You don’t recall ever seeing the man who broke into the house at the diner, do you?”
My eyes rounded at the suggestion. “If I saw him again, do you think I’d keep it a secret?” I might have only seen the back of him, but I’d definitely recognize that back if I saw him again.
My father nodded thoughtfully. “Jonah only arrived in town last year, and he was at the diner that day.”
I shook my head, afraid he was going to connect the two things when he asked about Jonah getting me the job earlier. “He was the one who pulled me out of the freezer.”
He leaned forward, making sure he had my attention. “It was someone who was there that day, someone who knew you’d be there too and also knew about your problems with your hands. You already said the brothers didn’t know because you didn’t tell them. Did that waitress know?”
Slowly, I shook my head.
“That narrows the list considerably.”
My gut clenched. “It wasn’t Jonah.”
“I’d rather you didn’t spend any more time alone with him.”
He made it sound optional, but I knew it was an order. “That’s ridiculous. You just said that I got locked in there because someone was trying to get to you.”
He nodded.
“But Jonah doesn’t have anything—” I broke off, my eyes widening. “You think he’s involved with the people you work with?”
“I don’t know,” he said evenly. “But I think we should err on the side of caution.”
“I’m not listening to this. You’re being paranoid.” I tried to walk away but he grabbed my arm, stopping me.
“I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true. Jonah Bryson isn’t who he claims to be.” When I yanked my arm free, his eyes narrowed. “Listen to me, Candy. He didn’t exist before last spring. The Social Security number on file for him at the school belongs to a man who died over thirty years ago. I don’t know who the hell he is, but his name isn’t Jonah Bryson.”
I shook my head. “You’re wrong.”
He eyed me sadly. “I’m rarely wrong.”
I knew getting records and Social Security numbers on people was like child’s play for him. It would be easy to get Jonah’s. I looked into my father’s dark eyes that were steady and clear, and I had no idea why he would make up a lie like this. He withheld information all the time, but he’d never outright lied to me. Even when he told me my mother would get better, he really believed it, right up until the end.
“It must be a mistake,” I whispered as a rock settled in my stomach.
He shook his head. “I should have looked into him sooner, but I was distracted by other things. I know it’s hard to hear, but it’s no mistake.”
“Let me ask him about it. I’m sure there’s an explanation.”
“No,” he said firmly. “You won’t say a word about it to anyone. You’ll end it and stay away from him.”
End it? I panicked at the thought. “But . . .” At his hard look, my argument died on my lips. I stood there perfectly still while a storm brewed inside me, and I kept thinking that he was wrong and that there had to be an explanation for what he’d found.
“I’m sorry, Candy,” he said, but he didn’t sound sorry, nor did he look it. He sounded calm and normal, as if he’d told me to have a nice day instead of telling me that the boy I was falling for was a liar who’d tried to hurt me.
“Is dinner ready?” he asked, glancing at the stove.
I just stared at him. Did he really expect me to get on with the rest of the evening as though he hadn’t just pulled the rug out from underneath me? Did he have no idea how I was feeling right now? Maybe he just didn’t care. “I’m not very hungry. Help yourself.”
Then I walked away with my stomach rolling and my thoughts spinning in unwelcome directions. My head buzzed with noise like a swarm of frenzied hornets. I kept seeing Jonah’s face and hearing his voice, trying to reconcile what I knew with what my father had told me.
In my bedroom, I didn’t bother with the light as I fell back onto my bed and stared up at the ceiling, sifting through all I knew about Jonah, looking for something that could help me make sense of this. As angry as I was at my father, deep in my gut I knew he wouldn’t lie to me. But the idea that Jonah could have locked me in that freezer, only to pull me out and pretend to save me, was too horrible to comprehend. I couldn’t believe it. I refused to believe it because if it was true, then everything I knew about Jonah was false.
I was supposed to go over to his house on Saturday night, and if I did as my father asked, I’d have to cancel. Jonah would want an explanation, which meant I’d have to lie, and then I’d have to keep clear of him from now on. I couldn’t imagine doing any of that, dismissing him without an explanation and trying to pretend there was nothing between us for the rest of the year. It would be impossible.
Listening to my own ragged breathing as I stared sightlessly at the shadows on the ceiling, I ignored the voice in my head telling me my judgment was questionable. I’d been wrong about a boy who I thought cared for me before, very wrong. But I didn’t want to listen to that voice because I knew Jonah. I realized we were just getting started, but ending it now would mean never learning the truth and throwing away our potential on what might be a simple mistake.
Sitting up in bed, I pulled my legs into my chest and rested my chin on my knees. My father had no idea how strongly I felt about Jonah, and I was pretty sure Jonah felt the same way. I couldn’t walk away from him. In my heart, I didn’t believe he could hurt me. Besides, if he’d wanted to hurt me, he’d had other opportunities. But instead he kissed me, said beautiful things to me, and took me to The Butterfly Place. Just the thought of those things calmed me, reinforcing what I already knew. My father was mistaken.
I knew the logical way to solve this was to go to the source and ask Jonah, let him explain that the numbers were transposed or that he’d given them the wrong one. Even as I thought that, I knew my father would have thought of it too. If it were that simple, he would have figured it out. Besides, he’d ordered me not to say anything, and how would I explain knowing about Jonah’s incorrect Social Security number? The one that belonged to a dead man. I couldn’t, not without giving my father away.
I needed to know the truth, but I couldn’t do that if Jonah and I were done. I had to see him on Saturday night as planned. Even thinking about it made my chest ache. Defying my father wasn’t an easy decision. It was terrifying, but he’d been so calm when he’d told me about Jonah in one breath and then told me to end it with him in the next. He sounded smug when he said he was rarely wrong. Well, rarely wasn’t never, and I would love to prove him wrong about this, especially when he so carelessly shattered my life into pieces. It was that thought that made my decision easier.
Grabbing my phone, I texted Lea, asking if she could pick me up tomorrow night and take me to Jonah’s house. Then I messaged Jonah, letting him know that I had plans with Lea in the afternoon and would get a ride to his house instead of him picking me up.
I’d also have to tell my father I had plans with Lea, but that they included Saturday night too so he’d believe I was with her. I was going to blatantly lie to him, and I hoped he’d understand once I proved him wrong.
***
My eyes drifted open, gazing around the room. My head hurt. I was on my side, curled into a ball with my legs folded into my chest. Dragging in a breath, I stretched my legs out beneath the covers, releasing the tightness in my back.
When my dream came back to me in flashes, tears sprang to my eyes. Wiping the back of my hand across my cheeks, everything my father told me about Jonah ran through my mind. It wasn’t surprising that I’d dreamed I was locked in the freezer again. While I slept, doubt snaked its way through my thoughts as I digested the possibility that someone had purposely locked me in there knowing how terrible the consequences could be. It was the perfect way to exploit my physical weakness. I hadn’t told Carol, Stephen, or Sam about my hands, but Jonah knew.
I squeezed my eyes closed, trying to erase the doubt and wondering how I could get to the truth. I couldn’t ask Jonah why he didn’t seem to exist before last spring. All I could do was play tonight by ear and trust my instincts. At the very least, I could ask him more questions about his past and see how he answered them.
Restlessly, I pushed back the covers and went into the kitchen to make some coffee. One cup turned into several as I sat at the table. My father stayed locked in his office most of the morning but came out in the afternoon to watch a couple of football games on television.
As the day wore on, neither of us mentioned our discussion about Jonah, which wasn’t surprising. Once my father thought something was settled, he didn’t revisit it, but in my mind, nothing was settled. It was an excruciating afternoon, and when dusk fell I changed my clothes to get ready for my date.
My father thought I was going with Lea to a party at her friend’s house. Since I mentioned my plans, he never once questioned them, which made me feel surprisingly guilty. The shock and anger of last night had given way to an abundance of nerves. How did I expect to find out anything about Jonah tonight? I hadn’t even asked him about his scar because he so obviously didn’t like to answer questions.
I thought about backing out, going for my phone and canceling, but I couldn’t make myself do it because the idea of not seeing Jonah tonight, of just giving up on him, was worse than anything else I could imagine.
When Lea finally arrived, beeping the horn twice, I pulled on my coat and retrieved the heated gloves Jonah bought me, shoving them in my pockets for now. I didn’t want my father to see them and start asking questions about where they came from.
He was in the living room, looking at Lea’s car through the window when I came out. I thought I saw relief in his expression when he smiled at me, as though he was glad I was going out and having fun instead of moping about Jonah. “Not too late tonight,” he said.
I agreed with a nod, told him good-bye, and walked out into the cold with white puffs of breath trailing behind me.
Lea sat in her parents’ Audi with the music turned up. “Should I say you’re sleeping at my house if your dad checks up on you?” she asked excitedly without bothering to say hello as I slipped inside.
As she backed out of my driveway, I eyed her in confusion. “I told you I’ll need a ride home later. You said it was okay.”
She waggled her eyebrows at me. “I know. I’m thinking of an excuse in case you decide you don’t want to go home. You said Jonah’s dad is out of town, right?”
I blew out a frustrated breath because we’d already gone over this. “My father isn’t out of town. I definitely won’t be spending the night, and I will be needing that ride later.”
“Fine.” She huffed. “You don’t need to get all snippy.”
Sighing, I apologized. She was right. I needed to snap out of it before Jonah noticed something was off.
My hands were cold, and I reached for the bulky gloves in my pockets. Hesitating, I didn’t put them on. Since we were nearly there, it hardly seemed worth the hassle.
“Right here,” I said a few moments later, looking at the number on the door. Glancing across the street, I spotted the neighbor’s house with its Grecian statues and pink clapboard. I’d driven past Jonah’s house before, and it was similar to ours in size and style, like so many others in this neighborhood. “See you around midnight?” I asked, taking a guess at a time.
“Sure. I’m just sitting home tonight playing Monopoly with my little brother, living vicariously through you.” Lea grinned at me. “Go have fun. Then you can share all the details. I mean, holy shit, you’re dating Jonah Bryson. Do you know how many girls want to be where you are right now?”
I smiled stiffly at my unwelcome thought. If Jonah had targeted me from the start, my being here instead of them made complete sense. “See you later.”
She winked and waved to me before backing down the driveway. Nerves rioted in my stomach as I walked toward the house.
Jonah opened the door before I could ring the bell.
I paused on the threshold, looking at him with new eyes, feeling as though so much had happened since I last saw him only yesterday. But as far as he knew, nothing had changed, and nothing about him seemed different as he stood there gazing at me with a growing smile.
“Come on in,” he said.
He stepped back, resting a hand on his hip, wearing faded jeans and a red long-sleeved T-shirt that molded to his muscled arms and chest. With his tousled dark hair, he oozed sex appeal, and I was no more immune to it now than I had been yesterday before my father dropped a bomb on our budding relationship.
“You look beautiful,” he said as I moved past him.
My eyes met his, and my stomach quivered at how appreciative his gaze was and how happy he looked to see me. It was so distracting that I nearly fell as I walked into his house, catching myself as I stumbled and smiling awkwardly at the steadying hand he placed at my elbow.
“Are you falling for me, Candy?” he asked with a grin.
I snorted out a laugh, and the jangling nerves inside me were joined by the embarrassment filling my face. But Jonah was too polite to let me feel awkward, standing behind me now, waiting to take my coat. I let it slip off my shoulders into his waiting hands, and something fell from the pocket, hitting the floor with a thud.
“The gloves. Have you been wearing them?” he asked, picking up the one that fell and placing it back in my coat pocket.
I nodded distractedly, thanking him again for them.
As he hung up my coat, I turned my attention to the house. It reminded me of modern city apartments I’d seen on television with black leather couches and a huge television mounted on the wall. Simple black shelving held a few books and DVDs, along with an Xbox with some games to go with it. A red area rug sat between the couches, and glancing up, I noticed that the walls were bare with no pictures or decorations of any kind.
“This is nice,” I said politely, walking into the living room.
“Not exactly warm and homey like your place,” he commented, reading my thoughts.
Our home was warm with everything exactly as my mother left it. If it were up to my father to decorate a house, it would probably look cold and sparse, much like this one.
When I turned around, Jonah was tilting his head, watching me. “Is everything okay?”
“Sure,” I replied, pasting on a smile while my heart thumped loudly. I still believed Jonah was innocent, so I couldn’t figure out why I was so jumpy. Maybe because I’d lied to my father about being here.
Jonah hesitated, looking like he didn’t believe me, before walking into the kitchen. He returned with a Chinese food menu. “I think I promised you dinner on this date.”
“Actually you said if I was lucky, you might feed me.” Crossing my arms, I stood in front of him, trying to shake my nerves because that excited, fluttery feeling he always gave me was there too and I wanted to concentrate on that instead.
“Right.” He nodded thoughtfully. “The main plan was to do something else.”
I tapped my finger against my lips. “I’m not sure I remember what that was.”
He inched closer. “Maybe I should remind you.”
Moving closer still, he took my hand away from my mouth, lowering it slowly but not releasing it. Then he gently tugged me to him.
My breath caught when his lips hovered over mine, but he didn’t kiss me.
He touched his forehead to mine. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
In response to his words, butterflies filled my chest just like they were supposed to. “Me too.”
“It felt like the day dragged on forever. I wanted to call and tell you to come earlier, but I didn’t want to seem too eager.”
I smiled. “Are you eager?”
Jonah nodded. “Very.”
Then his fingers sifted into my hair and he pressed his warm mouth to mine. I released a sigh as the tension flowed
out of my muscles and I surrendered to the moment, responding to his kiss because it felt so perfect. Our lips moved together seamlessly while our bodies worked to get closer, moving instinctually until I could feel the heat of his skin through his clothes.
I don’t know how long it was before he lifted his head and laughed, softly releasing a heavy breath. We still hadn’t broken apart when he said, “I actually did plan to buy you dinner tonight.”
Feeling shaken, I took a tentative step back and saw Jonah’s expression, both tender and heavy with want. Swallowing hard, I wondered if I wore that same look. The jitters I arrived with were scattering, replaced by a million nerve endings that sparked with heat and craved his touch.
Clearing his throat and running a hand through his hair, Jonah held up the menu again, smiling a little shyly as he asked me what I wanted to eat. I loved that I could make him look like that and cause him to lose his train of thought.
After we decided on the food, he called in the order and asked that it be delivered. I couldn’t help noticing the way he constantly touched me, slight brushes of his hand on my arm and shoulder, as if he couldn’t help himself.
With each minute that passed, my father’s accusations seemed more impossible, and what I felt in my heart grew stronger. This boy who looked at me like I was something precious to him couldn’t have tried to hurt me. He wasn’t lying and using me to get to my father. It simply wasn’t true.
While he was on the phone, I poked around the living room some more, thinking how bare it was. They had no family pictures at all. Most of the pictures we had around our house were ones my mom framed and put out, but my father still ordered my class photos every year, and he kept replacing the one on the fireplace mantel with the most recent version.
“So for later,” he said, walking back in, “we’ve got Iron Man, The Hangover, or Anchorman.”
I chuckled.
“What?” he asked.
“Such a typical guy movie collection.”
He shrugged. “We misplaced our copy of Beaches when we moved.”
