I knew now that he kept secrets from me. Over the last few weeks, I’d tried to bring up his concerns about what Shelly Lendl might find out, but each time he’d shut me down. I kept hoping that he’d talk to me, confide in me. But when he didn’t—couldn’t or wouldn’t—that confirmed my decision. I needed some distance between us; I needed to leave.
The tension between us had built to an unbearable level. Zef and Tucker had taken to avoiding the RV, and not even tempting them with apple pie worked anymore. The other carnies were eyeing Kes like he was an unexploded bomb, and looking at me like I was to blame for the inevitable detonation. Which I was.
In the end we had a stupid fight. About the apple pie. Too hot, too cold, I don’t even remember.
I stamped off toward the end of the field, and Kes roared off on one of his bikes. We were really handling this so well.
It was Zef who came to find me.
“What do you want?” I barked when I heard his quiet footsteps behind me.
“Thought you might want some company.”
I laughed bitterly.
“It’s so ironic: I’m in the middle nowhere, surrounded by nothingness, and I can’t get any space!”
“Okay, I’ll go. But one of you needs to get their shit together.”
“Thank you, Oprah.”
“I’m not joking, Aimee,” Zef said firmly. “When Kes is like this, he’s going to make a mistake. He’ll get hurt and it’ll be on you.”
“Oh, that is so unfair!” I yelled. “You know I don’t want anything to happen to Kes! I’d do anything to keep him safe!”
“Anything?” he asked harshly. “Doesn’t look like it from where I’m standing.”
“Don’t worry, Zef,” I said nastily. “Two days from now and I won’t be your problem anymore.”
He sighed. “So you’re really going?”
“It was only ever supposed to be a summer vacation,” I murmured, half to myself.
“Yeah? Well, life happens while you’re making other plans.”
I laughed a little at that, but felt even sadder when he left me alone, as I’d so graciously requested.
I thought about a lot of things as I sat watching the shadows lengthen across the spiky grass. I thought about how I felt when I was 16 and Kes disappeared from my life. I thought about what it was like through the empty years, meeting Gregg, my teaching, my life in Boston. I thought about what it meant to me, meeting Kes again in the most unexpected way. I thought about the last seven weeks, the way he’d made love to me, fucked me, kissed me. I touched the tiny Ferris wheel necklace that I never took off. I thought about Kes’s volcanic temper and his life with Sorcha. I thought about the secrets he was keeping from me. I weighed up everything, or tried to. I imagined what it would mean, to stay with him, with all those uncertainties between us, with no real role for me, and no means of earning a living if I traveled with him. I pondered the possibility of him coming back to Boston with me, and immediately dismissed that fantasy. Kes wasn’t born to stand still, and if it came to a relationship with me, I was holding him back.
With Zachary managing him, or a new manager taking him on, the sky was the limit. And what could I offer? My heart told me to stay; my head said I was a fool, and that I wouldn’t survive the ice that would inevitably form in Kes’s eyes one day when he looked at me. I thought of how callously he’d turned on Sorcha, throwing her out of his life after seven years—and all because she’d loved him too much to tell him the truth. I still wasn’t clear how much she’d used Kes as well, but when she’d omitted to tell him that I was looking for him, it was because she wanted him for herself. She always had. After seven years, he’d left her with nothing but regrets—at least that’s how I thought she must feel. I didn’t owe that bitch anything, but I couldn’t help thinking, if he could treat her like that after all those years, would I be next?
I thought about the friendship the carnies had shown me, and I thought about their piecemeal lives: traveling and moving on, traveling, always traveling. I thought about the families left behind, meeting up for a few weeks a year.
And I thought about Kes. The way his eyes darkened when he was angry or turned on, the way they seemed silver at dawn or in twilight. I thought about his smile when he looked at me, the way his gaze brightened when he turned around to see me watching him. I thought about the anger in his expression when I displeased him, the simmering violence when anyone mentioned Sorcha. I thought about the fact that he’d never ever told me that he loved me, that he needed me, that he didn’t want me to go.
I thought about all these things, for hours, until the sun had sunk, and stars appeared—cold, dead suns, that still sparkled in the night sky.
For the first time during the whole summer, I’d missed Kes’s show.
In the end, I did the only thing that made sense. I couldn’t wait two more days, not with this painful distance growing between us. Better to get it over and done with. That’s what I told myself.
I went back to the RV and packed my clothes, stuffing everything into my suitcase. And that’s where Kes found me.
“You missed the show.”
“I’m sorry.”
He stared at my suitcase, his gaze going cold.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going home, Kes.”
“Back to Boston.”
“Yes.”
“Back to … Gregg?”
I turned to glare at him. “No! I’m going back to my job, to my work. I have commitments to the school, to my pupils. I’ve told you that!”
He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Just like that.”
“No, not just like that. I like being a teacher. I want my pupils to experience the joy of learning. I want…”
“Life’s out there!” he yelled suddenly, waving his hands in a sweeping circle. “Not in those books you’re always reading!”
I shook my head, disappointed that after all this time, he still didn’t understand. He still didn’t understand me.
“You’re so wrong, Kes,” I cried out. “There’s magic in books, in the worlds writers create. How do you think I learned about magic in the first place? Because I didn’t learn it from my parents—I learned that there’s a world out there from books.”
“Then you should have opened your eyes and looked!” he shouted. “What we have … what I thought we had … doesn’t that mean anything?”
“Yes! Of course it does! But I have responsibilities!”
Kes shook his head furiously. “When you were 12 you climbed trees and learned how to breathe fire! What happened to that girl?”
I looked at him sadly, the gulf widening between us, and when I replied, my voice was a whisper.
“I grew up.”
He clenched his teeth. “Do you know what I dream about? My dream would be to die looking at the lights on the Ferris wheel. When I get old, when my body has given up, that’s what I want to see. And in that dream, you’re standing next to me.”
Tears rose in my eyes. I’d been trying to get closer to him my whole life. Was he finally letting me in, just as I was leaving?
“Do you love me?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.
“You know I do.”
“You’ve got to say the words, Kes.”
“Why? What difference does it make? Words don’t mean anything!”
“They do to me.”
His hand grabbed a glass from beside his bed, and he smashed it against the wall.
I ducked, crying out as my hands flew to cover my eyes as I was showered by tiny shards raining down on me. When I dared to look at Kes, he seemed shocked by his own actions.
“You say you love me…”
“I do!” I choked out.
“You love me? Why can’t you love this? Why isn’t it enough?”
Kes gestured hopelessly with his hands.
“Aimee, this is all of me. Stay. Please.”
He was
asking me to stay—he was begging me.
“Then tell me what you’re hiding. Give me something! If you want me to be with you, Kes, you have to let me in.”
I could see the war of indecision on his face, and I dared to hope. But then the gates slammed, and he stared at me, his eyes shuttered.
My heart began to splinter.
“Kes,” I whispered. “If we don’t have trust, where can we possibly go from here?”
“Why should I trust you?” he ground out. “You’re leaving me, just like everyone else in my life that ever said they loved me. It’s just words. If you loved me, you’d stay.”
“If you trusted me, you’d tell me the truth.”
A flash of pain crossed his face. “Just … stay!”
And then I broke him.
“I can’t. I have to go back to my job…”
He growled in pain and frustration.
“You want to leave so badly, find your own fucking ride!”
He left, slamming the RV door behind him.
My hands shook as I dialed Zachary’s number. When he answered, I could hardly speak from hurt, from pain, because if I let go now, I’d shatter. The air swirled around me in hot, ugly colors, and my body shuddered.
“Will you take me to the airport?” I gasped. “I have to leave. I have to go now. Please, Zach, please!”
“Oh, Aimee.”
And then I couldn’t speak anymore.
I dropped my phone and fell to the floor, rocking myself as sickening pain lanced through me. It was too much, too much.
Only the sound of my aching sobs broke through the silence. He didn’t come back. My Kes was gone.
The RV was still silent when the headlights from Zach’s truck shined through the window.
Ollo was with him. We hugged, and he stroked my hair, but I couldn’t speak. He simply watched sadly as I curled into the passenger seat of the truck and Zachary tossed my suitcase in the back. I hid my face from both of them, and I couldn’t bring myself to wave goodbye to Ollo.
As Zachary drove into the darkness, the lights from the carnival disappeared and streetlights took their place, flickering past my eyes the nearer we got to the airport.
“Aimee, are you sure?” Zachary asked, one more time.
I shook my head.
“It’s not too late to come back.”
“It is. He hates me.”
“Kes could never hate you.”
“You didn’t see him, Zach.”
“Come back with me,” he pleaded.
“No,” I said, my voice low. “I’m going back east. I have to. I can’t stay…”
He hugged me tightly. “If you ever need anything, Aimee, anything … just ask, okay?”
“There is one thing you could do for me…”
“Name it.”
“Look after him. Look after Kes.”
He sighed and kissed my cheek. “You didn’t need to ask that.”
As I waited for my flight, bathed in the too bright lights of Fresno Airport, I felt sick and cold.
“What have I done?” I asked myself. “What have I done?”
END OF PART I
Read the conclusion of Kestrel and Aimee’s story in The Traveling Woman, which will be published in the Spring of 2015.
You can also sign up to receive my newsletter and to find out more about my books.
Or follow me on Facebook and Twitter, or go to my Website.
See you there!
To Kirsten Olsen, editor, de-Britisher, friend, and sharer of twins, whose patience is legendary, and talents even greater.
To Trina Micotta for being the third wheel on our tricycle, and for her unfailing study and knowledge of the hottest models.
To Hang Le for her stunning cover work and never-ending creativity. And she’s just so lovely and patient. And did I mention creative?
To Michael Anthony Downs for being so generous with his time and talents.
To Sheena Lumsden, for all her work behind the scenes, ably supported by Jade Donaldson.
A huge thank you to Christine of Perfectly Publishable for patience and perseverance in the face of author ineptitude.
To Katelin Haigh for creating the perfect hobbit.
To Love Between the Sheets for organizing my Blog Tour.
Several gals have been kind enough to let me take their names in vain for this story: Gina Sanders, Tonya Bass Allen, Lisa Matheson Sylva, Beverly Cindy, Lulu Astor, Mirelle Christopher, Rhonda Koppenhaver—thank you all!
I’d also like to thank Audrey Thunder, Dorota Wrobel, Dina Eidinger, Bella Bookaholic, Lelyana Taufik, Nikki Costello, Gabri Canova and Gina Bookley for research photos, pimping and never-failing support.
For lovely messages that make me smile, Ana Kristina Rabacca, Marie Mason, Clare Norton, Abril and Daniel, Jenny Angell, Celia Ottway, Lisa Ashmore, Gitte Doherty and Jenny Aspinall.
A. Meredith Walters, Roger Hurn, Monica Robinson, Devon Hartford, Gillian Griffin, Sawyer Bennett, Kirsty Moseley, LH Cosworth, Penny Reid, Karina Halle, Lex Martin, Jules Barnard and the wonderful Ker Dukey, friends who share the writer’s lonely path!
The Stalking Angels: Sheena, Aud, Dina, Bella, Shirley Wilkinson, Cori Pitts, Dorota Wróbel, Barbara Murray, Emma Darch-Harris, Kandace Milostan, Kelsey Burns, Lelyana Taufik, MJ Fryer, Hang (MJ), Gwen Jacobs, Kirsten Papi, Trina, Sarah Bookhooked, Sasha Cameron, Rosarita Reader, Jacqueline Showdog, Remy Grey, Ashley Snaith, Kandace Lovesbooks, Jo Webb, Carly Grey, Jen Berg, Carol Sales, Meagan Burgad, Andrea Lopez, Paola Cortes, Kelly O’Connor, Gabri Canova, Whairigail Adam, Julie Redpath, Jade Donaldson, Sharon Mills, Rhonda Koppenhaver, Emma Wynne-Williams, Ellen Totten, Nicola Barton, Lovey Anna Leavell, Stacia Lynette, L. e. Chamberlain, Lisa G. Murray Ziegler, Drizinha Dri, Aime Metzner G, Terra Chastain, Andrea Jackson, Brunihna Mazzali Belissimo, Sarah Lintott, Natalie Townson, Elle Christopher, Nancy Saunders Meyhoeffer, Mary Dunne, Fuñny Souisa, Erin Spencer, Caroline Yamashita, and Luiza.
For their support and encouragement, I’d also like to thank…
The Book Bloggers
Aestas Book Blog
Badass Bloggettes
Between the Sheets
Books and Beyond Fifty Shades
FMR Book Grind
Hopeless Romantics
Kelly’s Kindle Confessions
Kelsey’s Korner Blog
Maryse Book Blog
Natasha is a Book Junkie
No BS Book Review
Perusing Princesses
Shh Mom’s Reading
Swoon Worthy Books
The Smut Club
The Southern Book Belles
The Sub Club Books
Totally Booked
Beauty in the Beastly Books
The Fanfic readers who were there from the start.
The Traveling Man Page 31
