by Taylor Dean
“Troy . . .”
Troy interrupted, not letting Luke say a word. “If you ever tell anyone what I did, I swear I will hate you for the rest of my life. Don’t you ever tell anyone, Luke. Anyone. Swear it!”
“Stop it. You’re a hero, Troy. Everyone is so proud of you and what you did, and I . . .”
“I don’t wanna be a hero. I don’t wanna be on the news. I don’t want people to know I’m a freak. I don’t want people to feel sorry for the weirdo with no toes. Swear you will never tell anyone, Luke. Swear it to me right now!”
“Troy, it won’t be like that, please . . .”
“Swear it!” Troy demanded.
“I swear it.” Luke felt like his insides had just been ripped out. He didn’t understand Troy. Not at all.
That’s okay, Troy, I’ve got your light.
The words suddenly entered his mind and refused to leave. It was his turn to guard Troy’s light. Clearly, he’d lost it somewhere on the mountain. He wouldn’t let him down.
His parents and Troy’s mom rushed in then. They seemed oblivious to the tension in the room.
“Oh good, the two of you are already talking. Luke needed to see you, Troy. He needed to see that you were all right,” his dad said, his hands on both of Luke’s shoulders, patting them in a consoling fashion. Then he playfully ruffled his hair like he did sometimes.
Troy scowled, his eyes following the motions of Luke’s father’s hands. He jerked his head away from them. “I don’t want to see anyone. Get out.”
“Troy,” his mom said. “Please . . .”
“GET OUT!” Troy yelled. “GO AWAY! GO AWAY AND DON’T COME BACK!”
19
Luke and Jill
April 2003
Present Day
Jill quietly sobbed, heartbroken for Troy. For Luke. For the tragedy that had occurred in their lives. “He saved you, but in the process he felt as though he’d lost his life and his dreams.”
Luke nodded, his expression riddled with guilt. After all these years, it was obvious that a form of survivor guilt had never diminished or lessened in its intensity.
“Troy felt as though he’d been punished for doing something good. He was only twelve and not mature enough to reason it out,” Luke said wearily.
“I imagine his mom was preoccupied with her own grief.”
“Yes, she was beside herself.”
“He had no one to ground him.”
“To this day, no one knows what really happened to Troy. It was kept confidential. He never let himself be hailed as a hero. He refused to share his story with the newspaper. All people really know is there was a plane crash and his father died. Most people don’t even know I was with him. Troy has always told people the story about hurting his legs in a chainsaw accident while building the tree house.”
“Of all the things I thought you were going to tell me today, this wasn’t it.” Jill let a few more tears slide down her cheeks.
“No, I suppose not. It’s not something I’ve been at liberty to share with you, or anyone. Troy has never been the same. The plane crash changed him in ways I can’t begin to understand.”
“Did you ever tell your parents what he said to you that day?”
“No. I’ve never told anyone.”
Jill couldn’t believe he’d kept a painful secret like that harbored in his soul. They were the angry words of a twelve year old boy who was in mental and physical pain and surely didn’t mean what he was saying. “Did Troy apologize later?”
“No. He meant every word. Now that I’m an adult, I see things differently. I believe his mental balance was somewhat affected by the experience. I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like for him. Once I lost consciousness, he must’ve felt so alone. He’d just lost his father, and his best friend’s life was in his hands. He must’ve felt utter despair as he walked for hours in knee deep snow and freezing temperatures to find help. What kind of inner strength did he draw on? What does that do to the mind of a twelve year old boy?”
“Oh, Luke.”
“The wolf alone would’ve been enough to send most people over the edge. I’ve never asked Troy what actually happened that night. I don’t want to know.”
“What do you mean?”
“I wasn’t the only defenseless body available to the wolf,” Luke said bluntly.
Jill paled. “Oh.” The ramifications hit her hard. Mr. Kelley.
“I’m sure Troy knew exactly what was going on as he sat at the campfire. The sounds alone must’ve been terrifying. I have no idea what kind of gruesome scene met his eyes the next morning. Don’t want to know. Whatever it was, it was enough to make him pack up and leave; enough to make him head down the mountain.”
She understood Luke’s desire to not know, his decision to not even ask for details. A wave of nausea passed over her, intense and powerful.
“Sometimes I wonder how he wasn’t catatonic by the time he found help. Regardless, I can tell you he’s never been the same.”
“I can certainly understand why. What did you do?”
He shrugged. “Stood by his side. What else could I do?”
Jill nodded, knowing so much of Luke’s character had revealed itself in that one statement. “With all the medical advances, couldn’t Troy still run . . . or even just walk normally?”
“I have no idea what’s been offered to him or if there’s anything out there that could help him. He doesn’t share that information with me. I’ve never been privy to his medical prognosis. Since the accident, I’ve never even seen his feet. Keep in mind, he was twelve when this happened. No one wants to be the slightest bit different when they’re twelve, you know? He’s never really moved past that mentality.”
Jill couldn’t help herself. She walked over to him and knelt down in front of Luke. “You do realize that none of what happened was your fault, don’t you?” She wished so much she could go back in time and hug twelve year old Luke.
Luke didn’t respond to her words.
Twelve year old Luke was still there, hiding within his body, dealing with emotions that had been far beyond his capacity to understand at the time. Jill climbed onto his lap and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly and breathing in the scent that was uniquely Luke. “Let’s take a break for a bit.”
“Yeah, I need a breather.”
It was after the lunch hour now. The sky had turned gray and cloudy. It looked as though it might rain at any moment. Wasn’t it bad luck to get married on a rainy day? Jill found herself feeling glad it wasn’t her wedding day. She wanted blue skies and sunshine to bless her marriage, not stormy weather.
“How about a walk?” Luke queried.
“Sounds good.” She needed to absorb everything he’d just told her.
Hand in hand they set off, following a trail through the trees. They walked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. After awhile they stopped and sat under a tree, their backs against the trunk. They turned their heads so they could look at each other.
Obviously, Luke felt guilty about coming home and taking her away from Troy. But it didn’t explain why he’d ended things between them before he left. She hadn’t been engaged to Troy then. “I’m glad you told me. I want to know everything about you. But I still don’t understand exactly what this has to do with you and me,” Jill said quietly.
“You and me,” he repeated, perhaps not even realizing he’d said it out loud.
“Is there a you and me?” she asked tentatively.
“As long as we’re both alive, there will always be a you and me. We can’t live in the same world and not be together. It’s against some weird law of nature.” He turned and buried his hands in her hair. “No matter what happens.”
With that enigmatic statement ruminating in her thoughts, he found her lips and kissed her with his emotions readily evident. It made Jill wonder if he thought of it as one of their last kisses. While she loved when he kissed her like this, his words worried her. No matter what ha
ppens.
What did that mean?
He tore his lips away from hers. “There’s a lot more to the story, Jill.”
Her stomach clenched. There’s more? He’s not done? Where was he going with this? And what did it have to do with her? “A lot?”
“Yeah.” His eyes bored into hers. “I shouldn’t be kissing you like this.” She was about to protest when he said, “But I can’t stop. I just can’t.”
With single minded intensity, he kissed her again, his kiss reflecting exactly how he felt about her.
She felt the same. The first time he’d kissed her like this had been a memorable night . . .
20
Luke, Jill, and Troy
October 2002
Six Months Earlier
“Mmmmm, smells good in here. So, what are you guys making?” Luke asked.
Troy had asked for a cooking lesson and Jill had been happy to oblige. The aromatic wisps of fresh herbs and the fragrant stirrings of ripe fruits and vegetables wafted through the air. Troy sat in a cushioned, high backed kitchen counter stool in front of the large granite island in his chef’s kitchen. With all the ingredients laid out on the countertop, Troy rarely had to get up, which suited him perfectly. It left his hands free to work and he didn’t have to worry about balancing himself with his cane. The kitchen had clearly been designed and updated with him and his passion for cooking in mind. With a turn of the stool he faced the inlaid countertop stove. With another turn he faced the chest-level oven. He wore his usual slacks, suit coat, vest, and scarf even in this setting. It made him seem older than he really was. She’d never seen him wear anything different.
“Zucchini stuffed with goat cheese and tomatoes with vinaigrette, parmesan pannacotta, foie gras with plum, apple, and pickled fennel, and roasted eggplant with tomato confit. Things I often make at Chateau as the amuse-bouche.”
“Bless you,” Luke said, grinning widely. He’d just gotten off work, had changed and come right over. Her hands were busy, but she leaned over and planted a quick kiss on his lips.
Troy rolled his eyes, not finding Luke’s humor amusing. “Appetizers, Luke. It means were making appetizers.”
Jill wiped down the countertop. “Yes, they are technically appetizers, but an amuse-bouche is different from an appetizer.”
“Gesundheit,” Luke said under his breath, making Jill giggle.
“How so?” Troy asked.
“It has to do with the timing. An amuse-bouche is not an appetizer you can order off the menu. It’s free and whatever is offered for the evening’s service is the chef’s choice. Translated it means ‘mouth-amuser.’ It’s a little bite-sized something served before the meal to whet your appetite.”
“Frou-frou food. It’s frou-frou food.” Luke grabbed a cherry tomato and popped it into his mouth. Then he kissed her. He tasted tangy.
Luke often teased that she made frou-frou food. What could she say? He was right. It was fancy, time consuming, and not what the average American cooked. “It’s good though. Time to awaken your taste buds, Lucas Graham.”
“Yeah, Graham, hamburgers and fries are not a major food group.” Troy concentrated on slicing the zucchini, using the knife the way she’d taught him.
Luke made a funny face. “I’m an all American boy.”
“Try this,” Jill said. Luke opened his mouth trustingly and she lifted the fork to his lips, giving him a bite of parmesan pannacotta. She knew his likes and dislikes and he knew she wouldn’t give him anything he hated. Unless she wanted to witness the love of her life being miserably sick, seafood was strictly off limits.
“Mmmmm. You make the best frou-frou food in the world.”
“You’re forgiven,” Jill said and kissed him again.
“Knock it off, you two. You’re ruining my appetite.”
“You sure it doesn’t have anything to do with goose liver?” Luke mumbled, shivering. He hated the very idea of foie gras and refused to try it.
“You have no taste whatsoever,” Troy grumbled. “Except in women.”
“I was waiting for that. Thank you, Troy.” Jill placed the eggplant in the oven.
“Hey, where’s Joni tonight?” Luke asked Troy.
“Not seeing her anymore. It wasn’t working out. She thinks I’m not ready to commit.”
“Are you ready?” Jill asked.
Troy shrugged. “Not sure yet.”
Luke opened a cupboard and pulled out a bag of chips, as comfortable here as if he were in his own home. “Real food,” he mumbled. Then to Troy, he said, “Aw, I’m sorry to hear that. I didn’t know.”
“No sympathy needed from the Graham Pity Department, thank you.”
Luke said nothing, but Jill noticed the slight frown on his face.
Luke dug into the chips. “How’s the next book coming?”
Troy wrote murder mystery and horror novels which earned him a decent living.
“Just killed off a main character named Lucas in a rather gruesome scene. The poor guy suffered horribly. Sorry, man.” A snap of harsh laughter erupted from Troy.
Luke stilled, a chip halfway to his mouth. He recovered quickly and acted as if Troy’s jibe didn’t bother him. Jill walked right over to him and kissed him again, letting the kiss linger for a moment. Mmmmm, salty. His eyes brightened after that.
“Troy writes some intriguing stuff. Have you read one, Jill?”
“Not yet. I like to sleep at night and not worry about the Boogeyman.”
Troy laughed. “I wouldn’t recommend one of my books then.”
“They’ve kept me up a few nights.” Luke licked salt off his fingertips.
“You’re such a wimp,” Troy said.
“Yep. That’s me,” Luke responded good naturedly.
Hardly. And everyone in the room knew it. Jill gave him another kiss and Troy told them to get a room.
“I wrote an interesting short story today. We’ll see where it goes. Wanna hear it?” Troy grinned wickedly. Clearly, he enjoyed scaring people with his creepy stories.
“Sure,” Luke answered. At the same time Jill said, “No.”
Both men stared at her expectedly. “Oh, all right. I’m outnumbered.”
Troy became the most animated she’d ever seen him. “Okay, there’s this middle-aged couple, deeply in love with each other. They decide to treat themselves to a night at a fancy hotel for their anniversary. They arrive and the wife sees that the hotel is this huge high rise in a somewhat rundown area of downtown. She doesn’t really know why, but she feels uncomfortable. The hotel is beautiful, with lots of charm. It’s an older building that has recently been renovated and refurbished. But the area feels weird and kinda eerie. There are lots of cars in the parking lot, so she figures it’s a popular place and she’s just being silly.
“They go inside and there’s a wedding reception going on in the hotel’s party room. People are arriving in their finest clothing, bearing brightly wrapped gift bags. The atmosphere is happy and festive. The wife feels a little more comfortable. They take the elevator up to their tenth floor room. The floor is deserted and the wife feels a chill up and down her spine. For the sake of her husband, she squelches her fear, feeling silly. Their room is immaculate and superbly decorated. They relax for awhile and flip through the TV channels. They get amorous with each other, but we’ll leave that part out for now.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Luke says under his breath, making Jill grin.
“Get your mind out of the gutter, Graham.”
“Too late.” Luke winked at her and Jill felt herself blush.
Troy ignored him. “They dress and decide to head down to the hotel’s restaurant for dinner. They find everything is closed downstairs: the main restaurant, the snack kiosk, the salon, and the gift shop. Every single thing is closed for the evening, even though the posted hours say they should be open. Other than the party room, the place is deserted. There is a distinct lack of hotel patrons and employees, which the wife finds odd. The lone man
at the front desk informs them that the hotel is catering their usual fare for the wedding reception and a limited menu for room service is available. The wife is feeling creeped out and really wants to pack up and leave, but she stays for her husband’s sake. This was her anniversary gift and she doesn’t want to ruin it.
“They go back to their room and decide to order room service. The husband makes a quick run to the ice machine and when he returns, he places a bottle of sparkling cider on ice to chill. The wife is touched by his thoughtfulness. They eat dinner in bed, watching a movie they chose on pay-per-view. Overall they have a romantic evening, filled with tender moments. In rare form, her husband constantly professes his love and how happy he is with her. He’s doting and speaks of some of their most treasured memories, things she hasn’t thought about for years. She’s thrilled, pleased with the state of her marriage, but the eerie feeling never leaves the wife and she has a hard time relaxing.
“She sleeps clinging to her husband and has several nightmares during the course of the evening. She awakens a few times to find her husband awake and simply staring at her. He tells her he loves her and to go back to sleep. She does, knowing she is safe. The husband works long hours and had been looking forward to sleeping in, but they both arise early and are eager to get on the road at first light. By unspoken agreement, a leisurely morning is nixed.
“The wife wonders if he is as creeped out by the hotel as she is, but doesn’t broach the subject. It’s almost as if speaking of the eerie feeling will make it real and bring it to life. They pack up and leave the room and the wife breathes a sigh of relief. She can’t get out of the hotel fast enough. As they walk down the hall toward the elevator, they pass the alcove where the ice machine is located. The wife glances inside and nearly trips on her own feet. The husband wraps his arm around her shoulder and whispers in her ear, ‘Just keep walking. Keep your eyes forward.’ The wife gulps in air, her breathing labored, but she does as he says, even though tears are now pouring down her face.”
