Great. So they’d made up, and she obviously had no qualms about making me the bad guy. But one thing they both needed to grasp was that it wasn’t a matter of not understanding. I understood. Gabe didn’t trust me with his secrets. Bailey didn’t trust me with the truth. End of story.
I thought to argue with him, and if hadn’t been for the fact that Georgia was waiting for me all the way over in Desden, I probably would have.
Julia brought the cake from the back refrigerator and deposited it on the counter. I opened the box to make sure it fit the order as I’d taken it—no frills or thrills or flowery accents! It was perfect. Not that I’d had any doubt.
The drive out to Desden was a fairly quick one. It was usually my luck that the half-hour trip turned into an hour-long journey, but traffic was at an all-time low. I traveled from one town to the next in just under thirty minutes. It was almost as if the universe knew I had somewhere important to be.
In Desden, I pulled off the highway and onto one of the main roads in the affluent part of town. Driving for a mile down a tree-lined street, I finally turned into the parking lot of the Evergreen Nursing Home. The building was a tad upscale for a medical, assisted living facility. The brick-faced walls were white and gray, contrasted beautifully by the fall foliage framing the building. The blacktopped parking lot ran the length of the front of the home, and a long, spacious lawn surrounded the building on the remaining three sides. A giant, marble water fountain greeted visitors just outside the front doors. It was gorgeous—almost a tiny glimpse of Heaven on Earth. It didn’t look anything at all like a nursing home, but more like a five-star hotel to the elderly.
The automatic, glass doors bounced open at my arrival. I was greeted at the front desk by a chipper receptionist: Sara, according to the tag pinned at the breast pocket of her blue, button-down shirt. The moment the woman noticed the boxed cake in my hand, she slid a clipboard over the high desk and in my direction.
“Mandy, right? You’re here for Georgia St. James?”
“Yes.”
“She came by to drop your name on the visitor’s list a while ago.” I signed my name just below Georgia’s. “The St. James family is at the far end of the west wing, Room 130. Here’s your pass.” She handed me a white, rectangular sticker with my name scrawled across the front. I pressed the sticker to the front of my jacket and nodded in thanks.
I turned down the west wing, half expecting to read every single one of the name plates and room numbers before I came across Room 130. Thankfully, though, (and not so surprisingly) Georgia was pacing at the end of the corridor in front of a closed door. She started jogging down the hallway the moment she watched me turn the corner, and we met directly in the center of the long hall.
“Mandy, you’re a lifesaver! I love you,” she said, hugging me around the giant box. She bounced back quickly and took it from my hands.
“I already checked it out,” I promised. “It’s in perfect shape, just what you wanted.”
“Thank you,” she said, and I could see the sweet relief slowly cross her hardened face. “I wanted to kill Dad when he showed up here without the box. I reminded him a hundred times this week not to forget.”
“It’s no big deal,” I said. “Accidents happen, you have your cake, and now there’s nothing keeping you from giving your grandmother the best surprise party of her life. Is the rest of your family already in the room?”
“Yeah,” she said, looking back. “Grandma’s still in the middle of a heated chess match in the cafeteria. She doesn’t even know we’re here yet. I should probably go, though, before she heads back this way.”
“Yeah, absolutely,” I said, checking my watch. “I have to get back to the school, anyway.”
“I owe you, Mandy.”
“You don’t owe me a thing,” I said, winking. “Now go on, and take lots of pictures. I want to see her reaction.”
“I will, I promise.”
She turned on her heel and headed back down the hall, bouncing all the way to her grandmother’s room before disappearing inside the door. I stood there for a moment, allowing myself to stop long enough and appreciate how wonderful that moment felt. Why on earth had I waited so long to make friends in Sugar Creek?
With a goofy smile plastered across my face, I finally started down the hall, just in time to hear a familiar voice say, “Come on, Mom. Let me take you. You need to get out of this place once in a while.”
I stopped just outside of Room 115. The door barely cracked, I leaned into the frame to peek inside, confirming that the voice I’d heard was Gabe’s.
Inside the room, a graying woman sat inside a wheelchair facing her window against the far wall. It was a gorgeous view of the west side garden, overlooking a large pond with a wraparound walking trail. She didn’t move a muscle as she studied the view, and Gabe paced back and forth, slowly crossing in front of her window.
“Listen,” he said, stopping in front of her. He took another step closer, squatted down, and rested his hands on her knees. Drawing in a breath, he squared his shoulders and watched her. The woman didn’t move a muscle, not even to trail a look down to her son. She just kept staring forward, acting as though no other person had ever stepped foot in her room. Gabe’s lips pulled together, pursing into a wrinkled bulge. “I am so tired of watching you waste away in this place. I wish you would come with me. It’s two hours over in Sugar Creek; that’s all I’m asking for.”
Still, she said nothing.
“It’s a big deal,” he continued. “The whole district team is going out to watch the show, and . . . Shelly’s going to be there.” He said it with a raised inflection, like Lashell’s presence was somehow a really huge selling point. “You want to see her, don’t you? It’s been months.”
No answer. Long, drawn silence was the only response he got.
“And I could introduce you to some of the kids we’re working with. We have an excellent and enthusiastic group out there. Plus, one of our top contenders is starring in the show. I really think you’d have a good time, Mom.”
From his squatted position on the floor, Gabe stared up at her, studying her sullen expression. His eyes were wide and hopeful, but she would never know that. She still hadn’t granted him a single glance.
“Mom,” he said, and frustration faded to sadness. “You haven’t left this building in six years. What do I have to do?” The slow seconds turned into a full minute of stillness, and Gabe just kept waiting. “Please, just say something; talk to me.” Another beat of silence. “Let’s get out of this room. Go outside. Breathe fresh air. You’re missing out on so much.”
I stood at the doorway and watched as Gabe pleaded with his mother, a mother who didn’t seem at all fazed by the fact that her son was down on his knees, begging for something he clearly and desperately needed.
She wouldn’t even acknowledge him.
He finally dropped his forehead on her knee, resting it there for a few, long breaths.
“Okay. I’m going to go, then,” he said, finally lifting his head to look at her again. He waited another minute before he stood up, leaned down, and pressed a long kiss to her forehead. “I love you. I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast, okay?”
Still, nothing.
He headed for the door, so I quickly ducked away. But I didn’t get far enough before he walked out and closed it behind him.
“Mandy,” he said, his eyes widening as our gazes met. His blue eyes moved rapidly, studying the guilt-ridden expression on my face. “Hi.”
And there it was. The first, cordial word he’d said to me in two weeks.
Backed up against the door, his hands still held the knob behind his back. Gabe stood a little taller and squared his shoulders. “What are you…?” His eyes darted down the hallway before falling back to me. “What are you doing here?”
My heart pounded. It was a simple question with a simple answer: my friend needed me. So why couldn’t I open my mouth? Why couldn’t I find the words? I’d
spent days fretting over this moment, and the time had finally come. There was no one else around, no one else to ruin the moment. I could talk to him, reach out. I could tell him everything I’d been dying to—
Wait a minute. No.
No.
What was I thinking? Gabe and I weren’t in that place anymore. He’d run away from me; he’d turned his back. He’d chosen to confide in my sister when he couldn’t even muster the energy to look in my direction. This wasn’t the same guy I’d known and lost. This was some rude, twisted version of him—one who didn’t trust me!
He wasn’t my friend, and I had no obligation to pretend he was. And as soon as I realized that, the words came out a lot easier.
“I’m on bakery delivery duty,” I said, pointing at my name tag. There. That was short, simple, and direct. So now the polite thing to do would be to ask him, Are you visiting someone? And even though I already knew the answer to the question, and it would’ve been reasonable to ask, I was no longer in any position to pry.
“Can I. . . ” He swallowed hard, finally peeling his hands away from the door knob and letting them fall to his sides. He massaged his temples before dropping his head back on the door, looking up to the ceiling. “Can I walk you to your car?”
I nodded. It was the most I could muster.
Finally pushing himself off the door of Room 115, he joined me in the middle of the hall. His hands found his pockets as I crossed mine at my chest. We started moving slowly toward the front reception area, neither of us walking all too quickly.
“How’ve you been, Mandy?” he asked, glancing down at me from the corner of his eye.
“Fine.”
Don’t ask him. Don’t ask him how he’s been. Freeze—him—out.
I’m here, Gabe. I’m standing right in front of you, and I’m not going anywhere.
Shut up! That was before. That was before you found out about him and Bailey. You don’t owe him anything. Not now.
“Hey, while I’ve got you,” I said, talking loud enough to drown out the voices in my brain, “can I run something by you?”
“Sure,” he said, and we stopped off at the reception desk to sign out. Gabe signed his name first, passing me the clipboard after he was done.
“Have a good evening, Gabe,” the cute receptionist said, and he nodded to her with a smile.
“You too, Sara.”
“Miss Parker,” she nodded. “Thank you for visiting Evergreen.”
I smiled and nodded, turning away just as Gabe did, and we both walked through the glass doors.
“So what did you want to talk about?” he asked, scanning the parking lot for my car. I pointed over to the back corner of the lot, suddenly realizing that we were parked only two cars away from one another. We walked in that direction, still moving slowly.
“Well, do you have an extra minute?” I asked. “I have a notebook in the car. It’s just an RI thing.”
“Oh.” He kept his hands in his pockets and his eyes focused on the ground. “Okay, yeah. What kind of thing?”
“Just an event proposal,” I said. “Lashell left early last night, so I didn’t have a chance to talk to her. I know we’re getting close to the end, and I have a really great idea. I just thought that maybe you could look over what I’ve outlined, give me some feedback.”
We stopped off at my car, and I reached in the backseat to grab my bag. I threw it up on the hood, unzipped the largest pocket, and opened it, but the notebook was gone.
“Oh,” I said, closing my eyes. I could’ve sworn I’d packed it last night before I left for the church. “It’s not here.”
Okay. Think. Where was the last place I had it? I put together a list of ideas in the notebook, called Julia and the library, printed off a mock-flier at home, and then dropped both of them in the bag before I headed out to the—
“It’s okay,” he said, glancing down at his watch. “I don’t need to see anything, just tell me what you had in mind. What’s your plan?”
“Oh, okay, sure,” I said, taking a few deep breaths. Crap! This is exactly why I hadn’t pitched it in the first place! I needed those visual aids to help me through my presentation, to really drive the point home. I couldn’t believe I’d lost them! “Because we’re running short on time, I wanted to guarantee as many days as we could to advertise the event. I was thinking of maybe doing it the last Thursday of the program. The 17th.”
He shook his head. “That won’t work. We already have an event that night.”
“We do?” I asked, but then I quickly shook it off. “It doesn’t matter. Any night will work. I wasn’t married to the idea. I’m just spit-balling here.”
“What’s the event?”
“Well, as I’m sure you’re aware,” I started, trying to steady my nervous breath, “the Sugar Creek Public Library cut funding to the children’s reading program last year.”
He scrunched his brow and tilted his head back, watching me from the corner of his eye.
“I know that one of the big aims for the Raddick Initiative is community outreach,” I said. “I thought we could host a kid’s reading night at the local library. It’ll be something very similar to the program they used to run, but it’ll be completely volunteer-generated. The library’s already agreed to lending the space and books. I’ve secured refreshments. Even with a short amount of time to generate some buzz, if we can gather up a small group of kids, it’ll be amazing. If the first night goes well, then maybe we can continue after the RI program adjourns. I’m excited. I mean, I met this one little girl— ”
“Mandy, just stop,” he said, putting his hand up. “I don’t know what’s going on here. I don’t know if you’re working as a team and you guys got your wires crossed, or if great minds really do think alike, but Lashell already approved this idea last night.”
“No, no she left before—”
“Carla proposed the event yesterday evening. We’ve already agreed. It’s a great idea.”
“She what?”
Oh—my—God. I looked back down to my empty book bag and closed my eyes. I’d left it hanging in the kitchen while I worked the line out front last night. I’d left my coat, my purse, my bag—all of my plans for my big proposal—right there, right within her reach. And she’d taken it.
“Listen, I hate to cut this short, but I’ve gotta run,” he said, looking down to his watch again. “Fletcher’s show— ”
“Yeah, I know,” I said, blinking. “But Gabe, listen—”
“It was good catching up with you, Mandy. I can’t wait to see what you guys come up with for the program.”
Chapter Nine
The drive back to Sugar Creek was a long one, and not because of the traffic. In only a matter of minutes, something changed for me. Something snapped. Not only had Carla kept my original dance plans to deliberately stand in my way of succeeding in the competition, but she’d gone into my book bag, stolen my personal property, and used it against me to further herself in the competition. What kind of malicious monster does something like that?
“One student, please,” I said, sliding money across the table. I collected my change and ticket for the show and met up with a familiar face. Mary Chris, another one of Georgia’s friends and a writer for the school paper, was covering tonight’s performance for review in the Sugar Creek High Herald.
“This place is packed tonight.” She scanned the crowd. The seating was first come first serve, so Mary Chris and I snagged a couple of empty seats a few rows from the back. “Do you see the rest of your RI group?” she asked, looking over the buzzing crowd. “I saw a few of the juniors on the way in.”
“Yeah, me too.”
With Fletcher being backstage and ready to tackle his lead role in Little Shop, I knew I wouldn’t see his face anywhere in the crowd. He’d be backstage getting into costume and make-up, or whatever it was that stage actors did in the ten minutes leading up to the opening number.
As I, like Mary Chris, looked around the growing crowd of
people scattering to find seats, I eventually spotted each and every other member of our district’s RI team. Gabe came in shortly after us and sat near the front. He draped a jacket over the chair next to his as if to save the spot for someone—Lashell, I assumed, since he’d told his mother that she’d be here.
Mary Chris opened the program and read over the actor bios before she got down to business and jotted some pre-performance notes. As she did that, I looked back to the crowd and watched as Carla and her friends took the empty row directly behind Gabe’s. She leaned up, placed her hand on his shoulder, and he turned fully in his chair to meet her gaze. They sat talking for a few minutes, and she flipped her hair, smiled, and laughed . . . you know, all the flirtatious moves she’d perfected in his presence.
When he turned back in his chair to face the stage again, Carla got up and left her friends alone in the row. She was headed for the auditorium doors that connected to the high school’s main hallway—most likely headed in the direction of the bathroom.
I excused myself from my seat to follow her. I didn’t know what I was going to say or do. All I knew was that Carla had betrayed me once, and that might’ve been my own fault. But what she did last night was beyond forgivable. She couldn’t think that I would just walk away and not say anything. She had to have known that I would eventually find out what she’d done. And while I was fully aware of the fact that this probably wasn’t the time or place to confront her, I kept powering down the hallway, stomping louder with each fast step I took. I couldn’t talk myself into turning around.
“Hey,” I said, catching up with Carla in the empty bathroom down the hall. She stood in front of the mirror applying her lip gloss, but the wand stopped on her lips when she caught my reflection behind her.
“What do you want, Mandy?” she asked, dipping the wand back into the tube and twisting it shut. There it was, the familiar, nasty tone she’d given me back at the diner. I should’ve known she reserved it for the times when we were alone.
“You and I need to have a talk.”
Breaking Walls Page 8
