Divine Fall

by Kathryn Knight

  I blinked. He was referring to my mom in the present tense. It was easy to forget sometimes that unlike the rest of this town, he wasn’t privy to my personal tragedies.

  But that wasn’t the only thing causing my stomach to churn. Did I even know the answer to his question? Reluctant wheels turned in my mind. My mom’s favorite old movie, the one she watched over and over, had been Pretty Woman. The prostitute with a heart of gold had been played by Julia Roberts. I couldn’t recall one single Jamie Lee Curtis movie she’d watched with any frequency. The name “Jamie” could be used for either gender. And it was also a derivative of “James”. Oh, no…

  “Did I say something wrong?”

  I pulled myself back to the present, because that was painful enough. “No. I’m just…trying to remember the last movie my mom and I watched together,” I said vaguely.

  “Oh.” He brought his coffee mug up to his lips. “Do you guys do a lot of stuff together?”

  My heart lurched. Tears pressed against the backs of my eyes, and I gazed up at the art deco lights strung from the ceiling to keep them from escaping. “We did,” I managed. “She died last year.”

  A silence spun out between us, but this time I welcomed it. I drew a few deep breaths as I focused on the sounds of the espresso machines.

  “I’m sorry, Jamie,” Dothan said, his voice rough with pain and regret.

  I met his eyes, my vision still slightly blurry. “Thanks. She was killed by a drunk driver.”

  He dropped his forehead into his hand. “Something else we have in common,” he mumbled.

  “A drunk driver killed your mother?” I asked incredulously.

  “No. I killed my mother.”

  My blood turned to ice. Oh, God. This was it. He’d probably slipped a roofie into my coffee. Any second now, I’d begin to feel woozy, and he’d hustle me out the back door.

  I gaped at him, momentarily frozen in shock. His expression remained hidden, his hand and long strands of hair covering his face.

  He looked up, alarm flashing in his eyes as he realized what I was thinking. “No. No, not like that.” Biting his lower lip, he curled his hands into fists on the table. “She died giving birth to me. My fault.”

  Relief flooded my veins, turning my muscles to jelly. I spent a shameful second basking in my reprieve before the full weight of what he’d confided hit me. His mother had died in childbirth, and he blamed himself. We had both lost our mothers, but he was carrying around the additional burden of misplaced guilt.

  “Oh, Dothan, no,” I said, covering his fists with my hands. The current hummed with extra tension as the tendons of his arms formed taut ropes beneath his skin. “That’s a terrible tragedy, but it’s not your fault. I’m sure your mother would never want you to think that for even one moment.”

  He shook his head. “She’d be alive if it weren’t for me. My very existence is cursed.”

  “Please don’t say that,” I pleaded. Clearly he needed to talk about this, but I wasn’t sure if this was the right time or place. Or if I was the right person. But we’d made some sort of connection tonight, so I had to try.

  “Was it a…risky pregnancy?” I asked hesitantly. Despite my own personal tragedies, I felt completely in over my head. I was no grief counselor.

  He answered with a cryptic half laugh, as though my question was somehow amusing. “Very.”

  I nodded, reminding myself there was no right way to grieve. “So, your mom knew the danger—yet she wanted you so badly, she continued with the pregnancy anyway. It’s not your fault, Dothan. She brought you into the world, and she’d want you to be happy.”

  Another puzzling smile played across his face. “Not much chance of that.”

  My face fell before I could mask my pain. It was ridiculous, not to mention incredibly egotistical, to think that one date with me could erase a lifetime of anguish. But I’d been having such a nice night.

  “I’m sorry, Jamie,” he said gruffly, relaxing his fists beneath my hands. He twined our fingers together. “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re actually the first person who’s made me happy in a very long time.”

  A warm glow spread through my body, even though he looked defeated at this admission. “I’m glad. I’m willing to talk, anytime.” I figured he’d probably had enough emotional conversation for tonight, though. We’d said more words to each other this evening than all of our previous encounters combined. I gave his fingers a squeeze and pulled my hands away. “Maybe we should finish our coffees and share a dessert. The carrot cake here is really good.”

  His eyebrows pulled together. “Vegetables and cake don’t mix.”

  “Sure they do. And it’s delicious and healthy,” I said with a grin. “If you don’t want any, I’ll eat it myself. Tomorrow’s Saturday—I get to spend all day at the barn, working it off.”

  “I don’t think you need to worry about that.” He stood up, his gaze lingering on my tight jeans. “In fact, I’ll get us two pieces. Maybe I’ve been missing out all this time.”

  I bounced my crossed leg self-consciously, twining my fingers in my lap. My bracelets clinked. “If you like it, I may even be motivated to bake zucchini bread tomorrow morning. I could bring some to the barn and you can come find me whenever you have a break.”

  An inner voice chimed in as I finished my chatter, suggesting maybe I was being too presumptuous. Perhaps he’d had enough of my company and wasn’t interested in spending precious break time with me and my stupid baked goods.

  “I’d like that. Although I can’t make any promises about the zucchini bread.” He flashed me a smile before turning away.

  I sagged against my chair as he strode back to the counter. I couldn’t think of an emotion I hadn’t experienced tonight, and we still had to make it through the final “goodnight” scene. I snagged my purse off the floor to transfer a few of those mints into my jacket pocket, just in case.

  My phone sat in the outer pocket, along with the pepper spray. I slid it out quickly, pressing the button to power it up. Text messages filled the screen, all from Sam. I scrolled to the last one, which demanded an update immediately, in all caps.

  “Calm down all OK,” I typed, adding a smiley face. I glanced back up. Dothan took our dessert off the counter and started toward our corner table. He made an improbable sight: a gorgeous, scruffy, ponytailed guy carrying two plates of cake. More than a few female heads turned as he walked by.

  I sucked in a breath. “So far,” I added, dropping the phone into the depths of my purse.

  Chapter 9

  My eyes refused to close. I stared at the ceiling, replaying the night’s events in my mind. For a brief moment, the bedroom was illuminated as car headlights slid across the wall. Then I was in the dark again, both literally and figuratively.

  Dothan had driven me back to the shop after our dessert, pulling up directly behind my lonely car. He shifted into park with more force than necessary and stared through the windshield, lost in his own world. I ground my teeth together and waited. This time I wasn’t going to rescue him with my chatter.

  He appeared to be having an internal struggle. Finally he turned to me, the hard planes of his face cast in shadows.

  “Jamie, I meant what I said earlier. Being around you makes me happy.”

  My breath came out in an audible rush. That didn’t seem so bad. “I’m glad. I like being around you, too.”

  He shook his head. “But you don’t really know me.”

  I swallowed. What was he trying to say? “Well, I’m no expert, but I think that’s what dating is for.”

  My lame joke earned only continued silence. Beads of perspiration popped up along my hairline.

  He gazed out into the night again, his hands still curled around the steering wheel. “My situation is…complicated,” he said. His jaw tightened beneath the pieces of hair falling around his profile.

  “Okay.” I wasn’t sure if he was trying to let me down gently or actually explain something. I dug my ragged
fingernails into my palms, trying not to think of how perfectly our hands had fit together all night.

  Ridges of muscle rose along his arms as he gripped the steering wheel. “I don’t want to hurt you. You’ve been through a terrible loss.”

  “So have you,” I whispered. I was beginning to appreciate my complete lack of a social life. This was torture. He was right—I barely knew him, and yet his words were creating a tiny network of cracks in my heart.

  “Enough loss for a lifetime,” he agreed dismally. “We should…be careful.”

  “Okay,” I repeated. My throat was starting to swell. I wanted to make it to the safety of my own car before I started crying.

  He nodded again, as if we’d come to some understanding. But I was clueless. And torn. Part of me wanted to jump out of the car, and the other part couldn’t bear to leave him.

  Shifting in his seat, he turned to face me. His hands left the steering wheel and linked with mine, sending a shiver up my wrists. He pulled me in and leaned his forehead against mine.

  Our breath mingled for a heartbreaking moment; then he released me with a sigh. He cursed softly. “You’d better go before I do something I shouldn’t.”

  My mind whirled, trying weakly to interpret this vague statement while the rest of my body melted into a pool of desire. “I’m confused,” I managed.

  “I’m sorry, Jamie. I am too.” His voice was tinged with defeat. He got out of the car and walked around to my side to open the door.

  Willing my muscles to cooperate, I stood up with my keys in hand. He walked me to my car in silence, lounging against the driver’s side door as I buckled the seatbelt and started the engine.

  “I’ll follow you home; make sure you get in okay.”

  “That’s not necessary, Dothan. Really.”

  “I’ll follow you home,” he repeated. He started to close the door but hesitated. Reaching in, he brushed his knuckle across my cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  I made an “hmm” sound which I hoped he understood meant “yes”. He’d rendered me speechless.

  “Don’t forget the bread,” he had added with a small smile as he’d closed the door. The headlights of his car had trailed me home, illuminating the street while I’d climbed the stairs to my apartment.

  I flipped over onto my belly and buried my face in my pillow. Trying to make sense of everything that had happened tonight was making me crazy, and I had no one to talk to. I’d tried texting Sam, but she hadn’t responded. No doubt she’d fallen asleep waiting for another one of my dull updates. And her mom was notorious for snatching her cell phone at night to turn off the ringer.

  Nathaniel hadn’t asked me to wake him when I got home, and I took this as a vote of confidence rather than a lack of concern for my safety. When my mom died last year, he’d asked me if I wanted to move downstairs with him, or stay upstairs in the apartment I’d lived in with my mother for so many years.

  It was an easy choice, and I was grateful he allowed me to make it myself. I loved Nathaniel, but the apartment was home. And he understood that the last thing in the world I needed was another traumatic change in my life. I’d be 17 soon, and then in just one more year I’d be a legal adult, no longer under his guardianship.

  I knew he wouldn’t completely abandon me. But it wasn’t like having a mother. My chest burned as I slid my right leg over the cool sheet to her side of the bed.

  About a week after the accident, I’d started sleeping in my mother’s room. One night last fall, hovering emotionally somewhere between denial and acceptance, I’d crept into her queen-sized bed. Hugging her pillow, I’d finally fallen into a decent sleep without the help of medication. Since then, I’d continued the routine. I never moved my things into the bigger front bedroom; I needed her space to stay the same so I could feel close to her. While I changed the rest of the sheets regularly, her pillowcase remained unwashed, like a child’s beloved stuffed animal.

  The only things I removed, other than some clothes destined for charity, were the framed photos of me at horse shows. I already had to face the display of colorful ribbons strung across my bedroom wall on a daily basis, and I since we hung the wires up together, I wouldn’t take them down. But I didn’t need a nightly reminder of the enthusiasm we’d shared for an activity I’d now given up.

  I sighed and rolled to my side, grabbing my cell phone off the nightstand. Still no response from Sam. Had my mom been alive, I would have come home to find her dozing on the couch, waiting up for me. She would have coaxed all of the evening’s details out of me with that magical quality of hers, helping me sort things out along the way. She hadn’t been personally lucky in love—my father ditching her a week after I arrived was a testament to that sad fact. Or at least a testament to what a jerk he turned out to be. Yet she had always seemed to find the right words to soothe my inner turmoil.

  I thrashed under the sheets. This train of thought was doing nothing for my insomnia. Levering myself up, I switched on the light and looked around for my book. It was nothing I was particularly excited about reading, as it had been assigned for history class. But I was betting some very dry historical fiction would help put me to sleep.

  My car. I’d brought it with me to work in case it was slow. As if I could have read one word coherently while waiting for Dothan to show up.

  “That’s it,” I mumbled. I had to get Dothan off my mind. Throwing back the comforter, I stomped into the little hallway. My gaze fell on the closed door at the top of the interior staircase, and I reminded myself Nathaniel was asleep right underneath my bedroom. I shook off my frustration with a quick nip at my cuticle as I padded lightly across the beige carpet.

  No discarded clothes littered the floor, and obviously my own bed remained perpetually made. I was surprisingly neat for a 16-year-old girl who lived alone, I decided as I dug through the hamper for some sweats to pull over my tiny boy shorts.

  More appropriately dressed, I shuffled through the kitchen toward the side entrance. I could use the staircase that led downstairs into the living room, of course; we usually kept the door at the top closed, but not locked. However, I really didn’t want to risk waking Nathaniel up. He didn’t react well to surprise visits in the night—once he’d scared me to death when I made too much noise in his kitchen borrowing milk. I still wasn’t sure who he’d thought he would find in there, but his fierce expression and combative stance had made a lasting impression.

  Stuffing my feet into a pair of sneakers, I let myself out onto a little wooden landing. I clutched my keys in my fist and wrapped my arms around my chest against the chill as I hurried down the stairs. The driveway and covered carport were on the other side of the house, so I usually parked on the street to be closer to my entrance.

  I circled the patio furniture, shivering in the night air. A little path wound around from the side of the house and joined the front walk, but I cut across the grass of the dark front yard.

  A strange sensation settled over me as I crossed the lawn, and I slowed my pace. Branches rustled in the distance seconds before a slight movement caught the corner of my vision. I snapped my head to the left in time to see a shadow fade into the hedges bordering the neighbors’ yard.

  I froze, my breath hitching in my chest. Someone had been lurking by the side of the house. I strained my eyes, searching the darkness for any sign of motion. No wind moved the dry September leaves; the air was still and cool.

  “Dothan?” I croaked. He’d been hanging around our neighborhood once before; I silently prayed it was him. But my only reply was the background music of crickets, accompanying my thundering heartbeat.

  No paintballs or air gun pellets slammed into me; somehow that only intensified my fear. Keeping sight of the bushes, I slowly backed toward the house. Once my sneaker touched the walkway, I spun and broke for the stairs.

  I didn’t look back as I raced up the steps. Images of hands grabbing at my feet tormented me until I stumbled and cracked my knee on the edge of a wooden stair
. Pain exploded through my kneecap and I whirled around to face my attacker head-on.

  No one was pursuing me. My breath came out in ragged gasps as I crab-walked backwards up the remaining steps. My keys were still clamped in my fist, and the metal dug into my sweaty palm each time I shifted my weight to my hands.

  I stood up shakily when I reached the landing, searching the gloom from the relative safety of my perch. Nothing seemed amiss, and yet I didn’t think I had imagined the figure in the shadows. I eased back into the apartment, locked the doorknob and the deadbolt, and pulled a chair in front of the door.

  Perspiration pooled under my arms, running in clammy rivulets down my sides. I snatched a towel off the dishwasher handle with a shaky hand and wiped at the back of my neck. Dear Lord, my knee hurt. Keeping an eye on the kitchen door, I hobbled toward the refrigerator. My knee throbbed beneath my sweatpants as I loaded the dishtowel with ice from the freezer.

  Well, that was that. Sleep and I would not be meeting tonight. With one last glance at the deadbolt, I limped into the living room and set it ablaze with lights. The couch creaked as I lay down, propping my knee up on an extra pillow. I set the bundle of ice on top of the darkening skin, pulled a blanket up to my chin, and hit the power button on the television remote.

  Chapter 10

  I turned left off of Moss River Bend, tires crunching over gravel as I maneuvered down Fox Run’s long driveway. The dogs immediately crested the hill by the stable owners’ house, trailing my car joyfully toward the barn until something caught their attention at the edge of the woods. They veered off, finding various ways through the split rail fence to follow their agile pack leader, a foxhound named Rocky. The tall brown grass of the open field swayed in the sunshine as they raced through in pursuit of their quarry.