Flying in Shadows (The Black Creek Series, Book 2)

by R. T. Wolfe

  They startled a great blue heron that squawked much like a pteranodon before taking off in the dark to a spot farther down the creek.

  He answered Rose by pulling the straps of the folding chairs from her shoulder and setting them up in the grass.

  They could see the outline of the back of his house from where they sat. It was there that they first met. She'd been five. His uncle bought the home when it was still a run-down farmhouse and Nathan still a single dad, trying to raise two nephews orphaned after the plane crash that killed Andy's parents.

  Andy remembered it as an adventure, living out of a cooler and on mattresses for several months while Nathan worked to restore the house from the ground up. The memories almost made him smile. Almost. He thought of all that Nathan had done for him and his brother and felt contentment.

  Time with Rose was as natural as breathing. They never felt the need to fill silence with shallow conversation. Both were simply comfortable in the presence of one another; they could often communicate with just a look or gesture. On the other hand, he knew he was brooding and that Rose wouldn't stand for it too much longer. The fish weren't biting, not that that was why they fished anyway. The light was just beginning to show when Rose leaned her pole against her folding chair and stood to stretch.

  Her efforts at inconspicuous need a lot of work, he thought as he narrowed his eyes. She tried to look casual as she faked a yawn and wandered slowly along the floodplain that framed the creek bed.

  "Don't even think about."

  "I don't know what you're talking about," she stated matter-of-factly, looking over her shoulder.

  "The water's still cold. You'll freeze your feet."

  She shrugged, took off her sneakers and rolled up her jeans.

  "You'll be sorry, Rosemarie."

  She lifted her feet, one then the other, into the frigid, spring water. The light was up just enough to see bubbles erupting from the smooth surface. She reached in and came out holding the back of a defensive crawfish between its front and back legs, claws waving madly.

  He smiled wide, stood and straddled his lounging chair, trying to look threatening. "Don't you dare. Get that damned thing away from me."

  Holding the angry crawfish in front of her, Rose ran toward him, chasing him from his chair, calling him chicken all the way down the bank of the lake. He and Rose laughed so loud they scattered a large group of mallards.

  Stopping, he tried dodging. Damn she was fast. Rose maneuvered the snapping creature, attaching it to the bottom of his jacket. It held on with one claw while Andy held up his arms away from it. With one hand, he pinched the crawfish between its legs, much like Rose had done. With the other, he hefted her over his shoulder and carried them as they both squirmed in his grasp. He plopped her playfully in her seat before tossing the guy back in the water.

  Sticking her muddy feet out and away from her chair, she grinned at him. "You have my favorite smile," she said as she wiped off the black mud.

  Her compliment made him feel more than he could put his finger on. He could never go wrong throwing rocks at Rose's window in the middle of the night.

  The sun lifted in the sky too quickly—faster than either of them realized. They spoke of the past few weeks and their plans for the summer, avoiding any mention of prom or his summer in New York City.

  When he noticed the height of the sun, he tossed Rose the bottle of sunscreen he knew she wouldn't have thought of. "I don't know how you've never been burnt to a crisp. It's already early May and you haven't even gotten any summer freckles yet."

  "I keep sweat-proof SPF 50 in my pickup. I didn't think of it at four this morning." She took it from him. "And, thanks. I really shouldn't stay out too much longer. I promised Lucy a game of cards, and I have a hair appointment with my mom after lunch."

  Dipping her chin to the side, Rose covered her mouth and muttered something. He heard the word, 'prom.' Andy felt a quick tightening at the back of his neck. "I thought you didn't like that girl stuff. Who is this Tyler, anyway?"

  Oops.

  Rose bolted to her feet, arms straight and locked at her sides with fists balled. "I am a girl, whether you think so or not, and he's in my calculus class. He gave me a ride home the night you left with Bimbo Barbie."

  He could hear the anger bubble in her voice and still couldn't seem to stop himself. "Are you dating him?"

  She started to walk in a circle. No, she stomped, and he heard some kind of a growl that sounded suspiciously like a pissed off girl.

  "No. We talk in class. He flirts with me. That's right. Me. Because I am a girl." Her voice kept getting louder. "I refuse to graduate from high school without ever—"

  Overturning the tackle box, he shot out of his chair before she could finish her sentence. His fishing pole went flying as he spun to face her. "Son of a bitch, you're going to have frigging sex with him?" He clasped his hands on his head and started pacing. "You've never... and you're going to—"

  "Don't you even start with telling me what I'm not supposed to do. And I'm not having sex with him. It's none of your business. Damn it. Do we have to talk about this?"

  The relief was overwhelming and... confusing... and embarrassing. "Then what did you mean?" He couldn't help but ask. But then, realization came into focus, and he felt like an ass. "Oh." He stopped pacing and turned to look at her.

  "If you laugh... I don't think I could take it. So don't."

  Her eyes turned glossy with tears. He knew she wouldn't let them fall.

  "And yes, damn it. I'm going to be kissed for the first damned time on my damned prom night on my damned porch." She grabbed her line and started reeling it in.

  "Wait." He reached for her.

  "No, really." Her shoulders dropped. She turned so that her back was to him. "I should be getting to Mrs. Melbourne's."

  "Well, yes that, but Dunc's coming soon. He'll likely want your pole."

  * * *

  Duncan dried the morning dishes as his aunt washed with her gaze directed out the kitchen window at his brother and Rose. "There. She has him laughing again." Brie pointed.

  "He's an idiot," he added in routine, brotherly fashion.

  "No. Just young yet."

  "Okay. How about blind?" he amended.

  Brie tilted her head toward him. "I'll give you blind and add a pot, or maybe a kettle?

  "I choose to be involved with Candi-types because I don't have to be... involved."

  "Something a mom always wants to hear," she added, laughing.

  He shrugged and took the last dripping plate she held out for him. "Andy's looking for something entirely different." He dried, then placed the plate in the cupboard, wiping his hands on the damp towel. "Are you okay here? I think I'll go catch dinner." He kissed her on the top of her head and grabbed his boots and jacket.

  He took his time making his way to them. He'd noticed their conversation had heated up and knew to stay away from an Andy/Rose spat. He was surprised one of them didn't end up flat on their back. His boots scraped along the bridge that stretched over Black Creek as he swaggered his way to them. The bridge was comfortably weathered with age. His uncle had made it so that he, Andy and their cousins could get back and forth from Brie's sister's home on the other side of the creek.

  He stalled on the bridge, waiting for Andy and Rose to cycle through their tiff. The variety of his uncle's woodworking led him to ponder his talents as he walked. The different color schemes and materials he chose when painting a subject, bringing out their personality and style, or the feel and mood of a certain location. He had painted and drawn this lake and creek many times, and each piece varied according to the weather, time of year and mostly his mood. When Duncan decided peace had returned, he meandered the rest of the way to them.

  They both turned to greet him.

  "Hey, shrimp. Are you ready for college life?" He picked Rose up and gave her a bear hug as he swung her around. "You still weigh as much as a football." He easily maneuvered her under his arm. "You s
ort of feel like one, too."

  Rose laughed out loud and demanded to be put down. "I still have a few weeks of high school stress before I look toward college, but yes, I'm ready." She dug her hands into the pockets of her jacket. "We could do lunch sometime."

  "NYU's a big school. We'll have to make it a plan or else we may never see each other."

  "It's a date then. I really need to get going."

  "Could you use another player?" Andy rose from his chair.

  "Did you learn how to play canasta at Purdue this year?"

  Andy shook his head.

  "Another time, then. I can't both play with Mrs. Melbourne and teach you. See you at the dance."

  * * *

  Duncan sat comfortably, eyeing his bobber. "So, have you rifled through any Purdue secure files or data, yet? Fixed anything?"

  "Holy shit! You do that? Change your grades? I thought we said never anything that counts as cheating."

  "Slow down, little brother. Now you're just hurting my feelings. No grade changes... but I haven't had any classes start before noon since freshman year. Traceless." He smiled over to Andy and noticed that he returned the look.

  "All of my classes are on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I have frigging four-day weekends each and every blessed week. Traceless."

  "Ha," Duncan responded in one, short syllable. "The memories. It's not as fun as tracing Swiss bank accounts."

  "Mmm mmm." Andy shook his head. "The governor's emails topped the list. The things people put on the net."

  Sitting up, Andy leaned forward and craned his head. "What the hell? Did you already get a friggin' bite?"

  Duncan's bobber sunk.

  "Someone needs to get us peasants something to eat tonight while you're out sampling calamari and ribeye." Duncan jerked his line and started turning the reel as he leaned over and looked in the catch bucket. "Is this all you've managed to snag all morning? When did you two get out here?"

  "I'm not sure. Around four, I guess. I suck at fishing."

  "That's not all you suck at."

  "Fine. Great. You come out here to cheer me up?"

  "Nope." Duncan stood up and grabbed the net, walking closer to the shore. "I came out here to catch dinner. Giving you shit is just a bonus." He placed his one-pounder in the bucket of cold water along with Andy's palm-sized blue gills before he reached for a new worm.

  Andy caught his eye and tried to stare him down.

  Duncan broke first and they both started laughing.

  Andy interrupted, "All right then, Gandhi, tell me what else you think I suck at."

  Duncan tossed out his line and sat back comfortably in Rose's chair. "You don't see what you have right in front of you."

  Andy squinted at him. Duncan didn't look back, but nodded his head toward Lucy Melbourne's house, then crossed his feet at his ankles. Andy quickly loosened his expression and looked away, then back again.

  He let the idea sink in for a good long while before bringing Andy back to Earth. "I might be returning early this year. I've got a few orders. My history teacher wants me to paint his daughter's wedding picture." Good subject change.

  Andy raised his brows. "No shit? Is there much money in that?"

  Duncan lifted one side of his mouth. "Oh, yes."

  Chapter 7

  She didn't believe her mother when she'd said this would take all day. It did, and Rose couldn't help but sort of like it. "Call me Candi," she muttered as she sat fidgeting on her living room couch.

  The hair dresser had been all right. She went against her recommendation of wearing her hair up in intricate braids and dripping curls. For once, she wanted it down. The trim was great and her hair was smoothed to almost straight. Quiet waves framed her face and lay over her shoulders, down to the middle of her back.

  The best was the nail salon. Not that she would ever go along with some dark color or fake nails, but her mom joined her for that part. They para-somethinged and exfoli-somethinged and came out with toes and nails that matched the color of her dress. Subtle. She looked at her beige toes as they peeked out of her strappy heels. She could handle subtle.

  Watching the clock, she thought of how she hadn't liked this feeling the last time. Maybe Tyler had played a joke asking her to prom. She'd seen that in a movie somewhere, hadn't she? It had been six weeks since he'd asked her to the dance. Sure, they talked on the phone and made arrangements, chatted at school, but he never came over to help with calculus like he said he would.

  Then, she heard the car. Her folks must have, too, because they sauntered out from the kitchen arm-in-arm. She popped up from the couch and held up a hand before they could reach the front door. When she opened it, the look on Tyler's face made everything worth it.

  He wore a white tux. How cheesy, she thought. "Hi. I have a flower I'm supposed to give you," she said.

  Her parents stood behind her, and she wondered if it would be okay to just reach over and shut his gaping mouth for him.

  "The dance is over at midnight?" She knew Dave stood with his holster on purpose. "I expect my daughter to be home by twelve thirty."

  My daughter. That made the embarrassing comment worth it.

  Without taking his gaping eyes from her, Tyler nodded with a, "Yes, sir."

  They pinned flowers and took pictures before heading to the restaurant. The awkward silence during the car ride was nothing compared to the feeling when they walked in and she spotted the other girls, all in fluffy dresses, each with braids and curls. Why hadn't she looked into this more? And how did she eat at a place like this?

  Tyler was... attentive. He was patient and acted like a proud peacock, hanging onto her every move. Was this what dates did? Because she specifically remembered he said PDA was stupid.

  She ordered what he did, which turned out to be really good, but she assumed really wrong. The other girls ordered chicken. Every one of them. Was there a manual on this? She ate crab legs and steak and didn't pass on the dessert. Sharing the cheesecake with Tyler must have counted for something. Not a single drop of anything got on her dress. She was so proud. As they made their way back to Tyler's car, she lifted her brows at the girls who walked along the sidewalk carrying their shoes.

  She had to admit the hotel conference center was decorated nicely, but the balloon arch as they walked in was over the top. Tyler moved in behind her, placing his hands on her hips as a camera flashed. As he pressed against her, she was sure she had a holy-shit-is-that-what-I-think-it-is look on her face, because that's exactly what she was thinking. It reminded her of her mom's warning about boys not wanting just to kiss. Well, this one would have to deal.

  Andy's face remained stone cold as he watched from the moment Rose walked through the door. He noted she was completely clueless that almost all eyes turned to stare... girls included. And, yes, he also noted that Tyler took the photo-op as a chance to cop a feel. Rose glided in as absolutely, without a doubt, the classiest, most beautiful woman in the room.

  He wasn't sure how he felt about it; he guessed mostly happy for her. Rose deserved it. Worried creases formed low on his forehead. The guys weren't looking at just her face. The creamy, skin of her face made-up to look like she wasn't made-up. Her hair fell like red silk around her bare shoulders.

  Her legs looked long enough to reach her neck. Maybe it was the dress that hugged her so tight it shouldn't have been allowed. Maybe it was the heels. How the hell did she know how to walk in those shoes?

  Water.

  He decided he needed water and walked out to the hallway in search of a fountain. The current senior basketball center huddled with a group of his buddies. Good. A diversion. Time reminiscing with an old teammate would do the trick. Until Andy got closer and heard what he was saying.

  "...fuckin' see Rose Piper, man? Fuck me sideways. I could wrap those legs—"

  Andy grabbed him by the throat, then shoved him against the nearest wall. His head hit and bounced.

  "Shit, dude. Sorry. I didn't know you two were—"


  "We're not and neither are you." He didn't let go and instead looked around at the other guys, many of whom he remembered. Through a glaze of red, he realized his fingers were dug into the dude's throat. Releasing quickly, he turned to warn the others. "That goes for all of you."

  A low stream of disgusted murmurs rumbled as they meandered toward the ballroom. "Bros before hos, man."

  Andy couldn't find it in him to care. Not entirely sure how long he stood there, he got the drink after all while waiting for his hands to stop shaking and trying to figure out what to do. Until he admitted there was nothing to do.

  A former point guard, also in the same take-your-old-high-school-girlfriend-to-prom rut came as a welcome discovery. They exchanged college stories while Andy watched Rose from the corner of his eye. Completely out of her element, Rose still beamed and... flowed. Her dance moves weren't half bad and finally she did take off the shoes.

  Rose was right, he thought, he needed to cheer up. Oh, shit, Candi. He looked around. She wasn't dancing. Assuming she was off pouting, he walked into the hall and found her wrapped around a blond in a white tux. Ha. How perfect. How truthfully, frigging perfect. He felt his smile come back. The two of them went at it for a good amount of time before bothering to see if anyone was watching. Candi looked funny in her phony oops face. But when the guy turned and Andy saw it was Rose's date, he went back to seeing red.

  Tyler looked to have about six inches on him, but Andy could take him, he knew. Using one hand, he fisted his pretty white jacket and reared back with the other. Candi took off faster than she'd moved on Tyler, who pretended to cover his face with one hand while using his other to throw a sucker punch to Andy's ribs.

  Dumb ass little slow shit. He grabbed Tyler's fist before it reached him and squeezed hard enough to hear a pop. "You have two choices." Andy noticed his hand tremble where he grasped Tyler's jacket.

  Tyler, too, darted his eyes down to the trembling fist. He must have had sense enough to stand down before he came out with broken fingers.