Tethered Souls: A Nine Minutes Spin-Off Novel

by Beth Flynn

  I’d relived those last two minutes with Christian a million times. I’d fantasized what it would have been like if he'd kissed me that night. What it would've felt like to run my hands through his black silky hair, breaking from that kiss anticipating what I would see in his eyes.

  I shifted my position on the porch swing and it gave a louder than usual groan. Swatting away an annoying insect, I continued to ponder everything that had led up to this moment. As far as everyone knew, my family had started a new life in Montana, breaking contact with everyone from our past. That night in his room, I'd promised Christian that I’d keep in touch with him, and I'd been wracking my brain for the last few months trying to figure out a safe way to do it. I'd confided in my cousin and now best friend, Rachelle, telling her I needed to get a message to a friend and provide a way for him to communicate with me.

  Rachelle had come up with an excellent plan a few weeks ago.

  "You can't text because you dumped your old phone and don't have any contacts," Rachelle said matter-of-factly. “Besides, you said he never answered the ones you sent before you moved.” We were sitting cross-legged on my bed. The windows were open, and the fresh mountain air, along with the smell of whatever my grandfather, Micah, was roasting in the fire pit, had wafted in.

  I nodded.

  We heard the sound of bedsheets flapping on the clothesline. My mother insisted on hanging our linens outside to dry. She swore the mountain air made them smell fresher than any dryer sheet could. I smiled when I remembered watching Grizz carry the heavy load of wash to the clothesline. He didn't want Mom doing laundry at all, let alone hauling it around. He doted over her like nothing I'd ever witnessed. Even more so after they found out my mother was pregnant with twins. Their love was so obvious that seeing it sometimes caused an ache in my chest. Is this what I could've had with Christian if only I'd seen it sooner?

  "Earth to Mimi!" Rachelle snapping her fingers in front of my face broke through my thoughts.

  I shook my head and smiled. "Sorry. Yeah, I don't have any contacts from my old phone, and before you ask, I don't have a clue if Christian has an email account. I highly doubt it." I looked hopefully at my cousin. "What else ya got?"

  "Do you know his address?"

  "Umm, yeah, I know his address. Even if I didn't, we could find it online. But I can't mail a letter from here, Rachelle. Even if I didn't put a return address on it, it would still be stamped with a North Carolina postmark. I can't let him know where I am. I have to honor my parents’ wishes. I promised them I would.” I knew the tone in my voice conveyed my disappointment. "Besides, he thinks we're in Montana."

  I jumped when Rachelle sat straight up on my bed. "It won't have a North Carolina postmark! It'll have a California postmark!"

  Her excitement was brimming, though she wasn’t making sense. She ignored my confused expression.

  "I'm going to California before school starts. Remember? You write him a letter. Don't put a return address on it. I'll mail it from California." She beamed at me, and slapped her right thigh.

  "That's an awesome idea!" I said, my excitement joining Rachelle’s. But another thought followed, and I felt my shoulders slump in defeat. "But how can he get back in touch with me? I can't give him my new phone number this soon. I'm still trying to be careful. And you know there's no way I can give him an address to write back to me."

  Not one to be deterred, my cousin's enthusiasm returned as she burst forth with another plan.

  "Okay, here's what we're gonna do," she said quietly. "We are going to drive down to South Carolina. I mean, we're what, eleven miles from the border? We’ll open a new email account at any public library. But you cannot sign into that account from any computers at our school, your house, anywhere in our state. You can only check that email when you're not in North Carolina. Think about it, Mimi," she challenged as she stared at me with wide eyes, "we are in the perfect location for this. You can drive from here in any direction and be in Georgia, South Carolina or Tennessee within thirty minutes to an hour. You write him a letter and tell him to send you an email." She sat back against the headboard and crossed her arms in front of her, satisfied with her suggestion. "And the next time we go to the mall in South Carolina or Dollywood in Tennessee or river rafting in Georgia, we’ll swing by a public library, and you can check your email account. It's that simple."

  I slowly nodded as I started to see how this could essentially work. I would explain in my letter to Christian how he should do the same thing; create an email address only to be used from a public computer. That way there would be no chance of someone in his house happening upon an open email. I didn't understand how people could be traced through their computer addresses, and I highly doubted we needed to go to the extreme that Rachelle suggested, but it was a good idea. It also made me feel like I wouldn't be in too much violation of the "breaking all contact" rule that my family had established. Besides, Christian Bear was my oldest friend, and there would certainly be an exception for him.

  "I think this might actually work, Rachelle!" I whisper-yelled, as I remembered the open windows and my parents’ presence at the clothesline right outside.

  I swatted at a yellow jacket as I was brought back from the memory of almost a month ago. I closed my journal and laid it next to me on the porch swing as I reflected on how Rachelle had visited California and was now back. Christian definitely would've received my letter by now. Rachelle would be picking me up in less than an hour, and we were driving over the state line into South Carolina. We would be stopping at the same public library I'd used to set up an email address before giving Rachelle the letter to mail to Christian from California. The anticipation of logging onto the computer and finding an email from Christian gave me a heady buzz. I was so excited I could barely contain myself.

  Chapter 7

  Pumpkin Rest, South Carolina 2007

  I heard Christian's truck outside and stood up. There was no way I would allow him to see me slumped on the floor in defeat. I glared at him as he came through the door, carrying my things. It was a wasted effort since he completely ignored me as he strode toward the master bedroom.

  He walked out of the bedroom, and gave me a level look. "You think you can behave yourself if I unlock the handcuffs?"

  He wanted me to behave myself? I was surprised he could walk because he apparently had balls the size of a lion. I swallowed back a nasty retort knowing that if I lashed out, I'd stay attached to the beam. I opted for a slight nod. He nodded back and approached me. I couldn't see his face, but could feel his movements as he started to unlock the cuffs from the other side of the post, but something stopped him.

  "What have you done to your arms?" He almost sounded like he cared.

  "It's nothing," I shot back. I felt the release of the handcuffs and pulled back, rubbing the sting out of my wrists.

  "It's not nothing, Mimi," came his retort.

  I looked up when he grabbed my left wrist and studied the inside of my arm. Making a fist, I aimed for his lower jaw and connected hard, the knuckles on my right hand throbbing. He barely flinched.

  "You idiot!" I screamed as I stepped back from him, yanking my wrist from his grasp. My fury was unflinching. "Did you even think for one second that if anything had happened to you while you were gone, I would've died of dehydration or starvation before anybody found me here?"

  "Nothing was going to happen to me," he spat as he started dragging me toward the master bedroom.

  I started to fight him again, struggling to pull away, but he managed to get behind me. Forcefully, he wrapped his arms around me, pinning my back against his chest and my arms to my sides. As he steered me toward the bedroom door, I tried to bring my heel down on his foot, but my thin sandal didn't stand a chance against his heavy boot. I finally used the back of my head, thrusting it backward against his chin. I think it hurt my head more than his chin because he didn't react. Instead, he held me tighter and kept pushing me toward the master bedroom door. When we
reached our destination, I lifted both feet off the ground and straddled the doorjambs, blocking our entrance.

  "Put your feet down, Mimi." His warm breath caressed the side of my face.

  "No!" I screamed as I tried for another reverse headbutt. This time I connected with his nose and heard him grunt.

  "Damn it, Mimi! I'm just trying to get you to the bathroom where we can clean up your arms and get something on them before they get infected."

  Without relaxing my legs I threw his words back at him. "Damn it, Christian! Why couldn't you just ask me to walk back here with you?" I lowered my legs at the same time he relaxed his grip on my arms. Free from his grasp I turned around to face him and saw a small trickle of blood coming from his nose. Good.

  He glowered at me, grabbed me by my shoulders and whipped me around. Giving me a gentler nudge through the bedroom door, he growled, "I don't ask."

  * * *

  I sat on top of the granite bathroom counter and watched the top of his head as he meticulously removed all the splinters from my forearms with a pair of tweezers we’d found in one of the drawers. He’d also managed to locate cotton swabs and peroxide left by the previous renters or the homeowners. Neither one of us spoke as he worked. I was grateful as it gave me time to think. I needed to get a message to my mother and I needed to do it sooner rather than later. And more importantly, I was completely on edge knowing the anonymous and quiet life my family had carved out in the last five years was at risk.

  “I need to text my mother,” I blurted out after he yanked out the last of the splinters.

  Christian didn’t say anything as he laid down the tweezers and picked up the peroxide and cotton balls. Before dabbing the wounds on my arms, he replied, “No.”

  “No? Just who do you think you are?” I yanked my arm away from him, causing him to look up.

  “I know exactly who I am. And I’m telling you no.” He gave me a serious look. "Besides, I saw the notification text from your camp telling you it's been cancelled. They won't be contacting your family when you don't show up."

  “If I don’t text my mother to let her know I arrived safely at the camp, she’ll call there. And when they tell her it was cancelled and she hasn't heard from me, my parents will come…” My words died off as I realized I almost gave away that my parents could jump in the car and be at the camp in a little over two hours.

  “You have to check in with your mother?” His tone was beyond sarcastic.

  “As a matter of fact, I do, Christian. My parents care about me. The drive to camp is desolate.”

  He nodded his head as if in agreement, then his eyes narrowed.

  “You can tell me what you want to say and I’ll do the texting,” he said.

  I didn’t answer him as I followed him out through the bedroom. We were once again in the great room when he pulled my phone from his pocket. He held it up high and told me, “The signal is almost nonexistent in here. It’s a little better on the back deck.”

  I swung around and marched toward the French doors that led to the large wooden deck. I was once again almost mesmerized by the view, but shook it off as I turned around to face him. “You need to text ‘I’m at camp.’ And you need to spell it out. I never abbreviate my messages. She’ll immediately know it’s not me if you just type camp or use the at sign.”

  He rolled his eyes before returning his attention to my phone. “You’ll find her under Mom,” I quickly added.

  “Thanks for the info. I never would’ve figured that one out on my own,” he said without looking up.

  I crossed my arms across my chest and waited for him to finish.

  “Done,” he told me.

  “There’s one more thing.” I looked away. Before he could ask, I said, “I have a code word too.” I could practically feel his eye roll this time.

  “What is it?”

  I didn’t answer immediately.

  “What is it, Mimi?” His voice was raised. “And this better not be a trick.”

  “It’s not a trick, Christian!” I shot back. “I’m not a scheming, deceitful person!”

  “Just give me the code word.”

  I could tell by his tone he was aggravated. Good. For some reason, it made me feel smug. My self-righteousness wouldn’t last long. “It’s Dreamy Mimi, all one word, all lower case and no snide remarks, thank you,” I huffed in one long breath. I was embarrassed and he knew it.

  “Done,” came his reply. I was surprised. I’d not only expected some recognition in his expression, but also sarcasm about my silly code word which had also been a childhood nickname that I'd never shared with him, except in my letters. But there wasn’t any hint of recall or nasty comment from him. Maybe he’s not as much of a jerk as I thought. He’s definitely a jerk. He handcuffed you to a beam, I reminded myself. But still, this is good. This tells me he can be reasoned with. I needed to have an adult conversation with him and figure out what this was all about. I stood up taller and tucked my hair behind my ear. I was going to demand an explanation as to why he deceived me when he asked, “Are you hungry?”

  I was ready to tell him that food was the furthest thing from my mind when he started to walk back into the house. “Kitchen is this way,” he said without looking back. I started to follow when I heard him say with a smirk in his tone, “Dreamy Mimi.”

  Chapter 8

  Pumpkin Rest, South Carolina 2007

  Christian stood at the kitchen stove with his back to Mimi. She was sitting on a chair and he could feel her eyes following him as he moved around the room and heated up some food he’d prepared the day before. He tried to dredge up some of his earlier anger, but it wouldn’t surface.

  Seeing her bloodied arms had almost undone him. Yes, he’d metaphorically shattered some hearts, but he’d never physically injured a woman. Never. And the irony wasn’t lost on him that the first woman he’d hurt was Mimi. And she was right. It was a stupid move on his part to leave her handcuffed to that beam. If something had happened to him, she would’ve been in serious danger. He didn’t want to harm Mimi. So if he didn’t want to hurt her, what exactly did he want? Did he truly believe that he only came here for an explanation for why she’d never contacted him? He shook his head when he thought about how juvenile that sounded. He wanted to kick himself in the ass for mentioning it to her. But that was how he rolled. Spur of the moment, hotheaded, and off the rails.

  He smiled when he thought about the punch to his face and the head-butt that had bloodied his nose. Mimi was a spunky thing and he wasn’t used to that. Women usually made sappy fools of themselves to get his attention. He never remembered one challenging him. Some had done their best to aggravate him, but challenge him? Never. And he could definitely say that a woman had never struck him. But she came at him a few times and as much as he wanted to use the punch and headbutt as an excuse to resurrect his ire, he couldn’t. As a matter of fact, it had the opposite effect. It not only showed her as a strong woman worthy of respect, but it also made him see himself as she’d seen him. As a monster.

  I am a monster, and to try and be something else to save face with Mimi isn’t who I am, he told himself. With his back still to her, he gruffly announced, “Like I said earlier, you’ll be staying with me a few days.” He spun around and gave her a serious look. “Don’t fight me on this. I don’t want to use the handcuffs again, but I will.”

  She stood up from the chair, her hands clenched at her sides. “This is ridiculous, Christian. It’s obvious you think I somehow betrayed you and you planned this. You had someone investigating me. I don’t understand why you would go to such lengths. I thought we were friends, but you’ve taken this to a whole new level. You remind me of—”

  “My parents? Your parents?” he cut in.

  He could tell that his answer caught her by surprise. She was going to say something else, but he nailed it. And she knew it.

  “Look, Mimi,” he said as he leaned back against the counter and hooked both thumbs in his belt loops. “I was
at a friend’s house and he was messing around on the computer. I guess it was a one-in-a-million shot, but your picture popped up on Facebook with a bunch of kids from your college. Apparently, my friend and one of your friends had some connection. I knew the school where the picture was taken and tracked you down.”

  She cocked her head and frowned.

  “I don't believe you," Mimi said through slitted eyes. "And even if I did, I don’t see what any of this has to do with you methodically planning my abduction!” With her hands on her hips she moved toward him.

  “I guess it doesn’t have anything to do with it,” Christian countered. “I wanted to see you and like I said earlier, I don’t ask.”

  “Well, you’ve seen me, Christian.” She held her hand out. “My phone and car keys, please. I can make it ho—back to college before it gets too late.”

  “No," he replied immediately. "And don't try to leave on your own. I hid the keys to my truck and your car outside before I came in. And if you think you can make it to your car and use a key you might have hidden, it'll be fruitless. I messed with your engine."

  He watched her take a deep breath as she carefully measured her words. "You know what? I'll play along with whatever this is." She swept her hand through the air. "However, contrary to what you might think, other than averting a nuclear disaster of some sort or a life-and-death situation, I can't come up with one plausible explanation for what you've done."

  Before he could reply they both heard her stomach grumble. In an attempt to avoid answering her question, he barked, "We'll eat first. Talk later."