Running Scared (Letters From Morgantown Book 1)

by Tracie Puckett

  “Sometimes loss leads to retreat,” I said, offering a reasonable explanation. “He lost his grandmother.”

  Theo nodded, and though he kept working, his movements slowed. His breathing did, too. The mere mention of Chris’s grandmother robbed Theo of his fluid movement and careless gait around the kitchen. He was suddenly quiet, moving in slow motion.

  “I guess I never realized that you lost her, too,” I said, still studying him. I felt awful for not considering that before. Kathy’s death wasn’t just a loss for her family, but it was also a loss for Theo—her business partner, her friend, and someone who cared deeply for her. Her passing would’ve hurt Theo as badly as it hurt Chris. He lost her, too. “You were in love, weren’t you? You loved her?”

  Theo managed a laugh in spite of the moment.

  “It was impossible not to love Kathy,” he said, his voice in a near whisper. “She was undoubtedly the greatest thing that ever happened to any of us.”

  A few minutes passed in silence as I watched Theo reflect on his memories, a myriad of emotions playing on his face. After two solid minutes of quiet, he gave me a look, one that clearly came from a place of sincerity but was paired with remorse.

  “I loved her with everything I am,” he admitted, and I wondered if that was the first time he’d ever admitted that to another person. “I can’t imagine what it would be like to pretend she never existed.”

  “Luckily for you, you don’t have to,” I said.

  “It would kill me to erase her, to do her memory that kind of injustice,” he said, as if he hadn’t heard me. “It takes incredible strength to do something like that.”

  A breath caught in my throat. What was he saying? That, just because he’d asked me to play by the rules, he knew it wasn’t easy? Did he understand the pain I felt trying to conceal my father’s life and death? Did Theo know the hurt that I felt pretending my friends and family were part of a past that never existed?

  “I could never do what you’re doing, Sydney,” he said, his eyes wet with tears. “It takes one hell of a strong person to take on that role, and it requires a degree of courage even I can’t fathom.”

  “I think anyone could do it if they had to,” I said, trying to hold on to this moment—a moment that humanized Theo for me. He wasn’t a federal robot doing his job. He knew my pain. He understood. He respected me, and it was the first time he’d ever cared to communicate that. “When it comes down to life or death, sometimes you have to do things you never imagined you were strong enough to do.”

  “Yeah, but I’ve seen many men break and in much shorter time.”

  “It’s not easy to live a lie,” I said, understanding better than anyone how easy it would be to break. So many times I’d caught myself thinking about home, talking about things I wasn’t allowed to talk about. It was too easy to screw up.

  “Sydney, I know you resent me, and I understand where that resentment comes from,” Theo said. “But I don’t want you to think of me as the enemy. I want for you to succeed here, and I truly believe you can. It’s my job to make sure you’re safe, and that means I have to pull you back when I sense you drifting away from this reality. I know what it means to you to succeed in this goal—to find justice, to get back to the life you’ve missed. I’m not trying to keep you from that. To a degree, I understand what you’re feeling. I’m trying to help you, though I’m sure it’s hard to see that from where you’re standing.”

  I swallowed hard and looked back to my hands, unable to make eye contact. He was right—I had resented him. I was angry that he’d asked me to live a lie. It hurt that he wouldn’t let me speak of the things I loved. All the while, I’d assumed that he had no idea what I was going through or the pain that I felt, but I was sorely mistaken. His expectations were high, but they were coming from a good place. He wasn’t trying to hurt me. He was trying to keep me realistically grounded—safe.

  “How ’bout we start over?” Theo asked. “Can we give that a try?”

  “Yes,” I nodded, wiping a tear from my sore cheek. “I’d like that a lot.”

  “How do you feel about pears?”

  “I can’t say I’ve ever had one that looks like that,” I said, watching as he served a beautifully dressed plate to the empty spot in front of me. “It looks delicious.”

  “I’m more concerned with how it tastes,” he said, offering a fork. “Dig in.”

  I spent the next hour in the kitchen with Theo, devouring fruits and entrees, desserts and hot chocolate. Every dish he served was perfect—from taste to presentation, and I was certain that he hadn’t needed my help at all in achieving a perfect menu for the weekend.

  By midday, Chris had poked his head into the kitchen to steal me away, and he tasked me to fold the new linens and towels they’d bought during their hiatus. It was only after he’d dismissed himself to the basement that Danielle took it upon herself to show me the proper execution for folding. Every fold must be crisp and consistent, she said. She was helpful and friendly for a change. Order and organization did a lot to improve her mood.

  She’d even extended an invitation to assist if I wanted to help hang the garland, at which point I pitched in to help with the rest of the holiday decor. While stringing lights along the bookshelves, we made plans to journey into town on Saturday to go shopping—so that I could finally have some new clothes, and so that she could keep her promise to Chris and Theo.

  We carried on this way all afternoon, hanging tiny wreaths on the doorknobs and setting out dozens of snowmen, Santa Claus models, and winter figurines. Perched on the mantle above the fireplace in the common room, we set out a wooden recreation of the nativity scene. The final touch came in the form of mistletoe, tacked above the archway between the common room and foyer.

  Little by little, minute by minute, the B&B transformed right before our eyes.

  It was an overdose of Christmas spirit, something right out of a storybook. The colors of red and green contrasted beautifully with the freshly white-painted walls, and when the snow started falling outside, sprinkling down in front of the bay window, everything tied together.

  At the end of the day, I flopped back on the couch and stared up to the ceiling.

  My muscles were sore, and my body was tired, but I felt a rush of accomplishment and peace. I’d helped Chris and Danielle. I’d made some kind of effort at a new beginning with Theo.

  The wood crackled in the fireplace. Music scratched along in the background. And with the smell of cinnamon and apples wafting out of the kitchen, I felt a surge of fulfillment overwhelm my senses.

  It was nearly Christmas, and I felt a moment of peace.

  I would’ve sworn I was right back at home.

  My eyes drifted shut with a few slow blinks, and my lips curved into a smile.

  Home.

  ***

  “Hey, what are you doing here?” I asked, pushing through the kitchen door. Theo stood at the counter, leaning over a spread of ingredients, taking stock of what he had in front of him. “You weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow morning for breakfast.”

  “Ah, well, it’s opening day,” he said. “Before we know it, the house will be full again, and we’ll have guests clamoring for something to eat. They should start arriving in the next hour, so I thought I’d whip up some more treats to set out, maybe leave some in the common room or on the table. Maybe even upstairs in the rooms. What do you think of cinnamon buns?”

  “It’s ambitious, but sounds delicious,” I said. “Can I help?”

  He nodded to a line of aprons hanging near the back door. “Throw on one of those first. Something tells me you’re gonna be a messy baker.”

  “Theo, my man, something tells me you’re right,” I said, tying the apron into place.

  He walked me through the baking basics—what ingredients we would use, which recipe each ingredient was for, and exactly how much time, effort, and attention he paid to each of his creations. It was complicated, listening to all the detail that
went into making even a simple cookie, and part of me wondered if I would ever be able to keep up with him. The more complicated recipes were ones I was happy to leave up to him. My biggest concern was that he would eventually kick me out of the kitchen for being clueless—or being in the way—but at least that was something I was used to.

  Since our conversation yesterday, I wasn’t ready to call Theo my friend or even a confidante, but we’d reached an understanding, and one that made me believe that, in time, we would strengthen what little bond we’d created. There was hope for some kind of friendship, and I’d take any spark of optimism and hope I could get.

  “What’s your passion, Little Bird?” Theo asked, for the first time since I’d arrived, taking the time to connect me with on a level deeper than food or our shared intelligence about my relocation. He wasn’t asking about Rosa, Dad, or shoving money in my face. He wanted to know about me.

  “My passion?”

  “When you wake up every day,” he said, breaking an egg. “What’s the first thing that crosses your mind?”

  “Dad,” I said without pause. “Home.”

  “Naturally,” he said, keeping his hands busy. “What about your future, though?”

  “I have no idea,” I said. “I hardly know what each day brings right now as it is. It’s hard to plan any kind of future that way.”

  “Fair enough,” he said.

  “Before coming here,” I said, “Carrie and I . . . can I talk about Carrie?” Theo didn’t nod. He didn’t shake his head. He didn’t give me any indication as to whether or not I should keep talking or stop talking altogether. So I decided to continue, to tread softly with the knowledge that he could stop me any second. “We planned to take the summer after graduation to knock some things off our bucket lists. I’d have my car by then, and she’s never seen an ocean. I promised to take her, to be there for that first moment a wave crashes up over her toes.” I sighed, remembering how excited she was when we’d started planning our summer adventure. “A road trip, the beach . . . college in the fall.”

  Plans that were no longer plans, just dreams of the past. Unattainable dreams, at least for now.

  My head was in the clouds as I stood alongside Theo for the better part of an hour, dropping balls of cookie dough onto metal sheets, pouring batter into tins. My mind was back at home, and without the focus the job required there in the kitchen, it was clear that I didn’t have the skill or know-how to pull off any kind of culinary masterpiece. But I learned slowly, and Theo seemed to think I was doing okay. He didn’t kick me out, so I called that a success. You could be worse, he said every time I started to doubt myself.

  “They’re here,” Chris said, rapping his hands on the kitchen door before disappearing as quickly as he’d come. From a distance we heard him again, making his way to the foyer saying, “They’re here!”

  “Who’s here?” I asked, turning to Theo.

  “I would say the Carlsons, but he wouldn’t be that excited for them,” he said. “Must be Amy and Eli.”

  “Who are Amy and Eli?” I asked, remembering the names from our—their—team meeting yesterday.

  “He hasn’t mentioned them?”

  “No.”

  “Good kids, those two. I like ’em a lot. I’ve only met Eli twice, but Amy and Chris were close growing up, so I know her well,” he said, going to the sink to wash his hands. “She was Nat’s best friend.”

  “Nat?”

  “Chris’s sister,” he said, and then his expression grew grim as his mind drifted to a darker memory. He didn’t let himself linger on whatever it was that crossed his mind, and he shook it away.

  Theo moved for the door, and I followed him out. In the foyer, Chris and Danielle were greeting the young couple, both of their faces plastered with big smiles. Danielle was wrapped in a hug with the woman, and Chris shook the young man’s hand.

  “Third trip to Morgantown in a year,” Chris said. “I could get used to this.”

  “She never stops talking about home,” Eli said. “What’s a few cross-country trips for the woman you love?”

  “Ah, you’re too sweet,” Amy said, turning her focus to Chris. With outstretched arms, she moved closer to him, wrapping him inside her tiny arms. “God, I’ve missed you.” When they pulled apart, she lowered her voice and asked, “So . . . where is she? Is she here?”

  “Amy,” Theo strode through the room, his heavy footsteps shaking the floor as he rushed for them, “welcome home, sweet pea.”

  “Theodore!” She rushed at him, throwing her arms around his neck. “My God, you look good. Is it me, or do you keep looking better with age?” She pulled away from her hug and immediately turned to me. Under the scrutiny of her hazel eyes, my nerves felt almost as scattered as the black locks of hair in her pixie cut. “Sydney, right?”

  “Yeah, hi,” I nodded, but before I had time to offer her a hand, she’d rushed away from Theo and wrapped her arms around me, crushing me in a hug. The embrace lasted only seconds before she backed away, but she left her small arm around my shoulder and pulled me close.

  “You are pretty,” she said, examining my features a little closer. Her eyes stopped on my bruise. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  “Oh,” I said, shaking my head. “No, it’s nothing. Sometimes my feet get in the way, that’s all.”

  “Wow, Chris really has rubbed off on you,” Amy teased, turning a look to Chris. “And you weren’t exaggerating at all about this one. She is beauti—”

  “Syd, this is Amy,” Chris interrupted. “You’ll quickly learn she doesn’t respect personal boundaries, so I’ll apologize for her now. And this is Eli.”

  “The boyfriend,” Amy said to me, her words coming from the side of her mouth. “Isn’t he cute?”

  “The cutest,” Theo said, cutting in. “So what brings you two to town this weekend?”

  “Light show,” Amy said. “I’ve been telling him about it for months, and he surprised me this morning with a plane ticket home. I had no idea.”

  Danielle smiled. “God, that’s romantic. I need a boyfriend.”

  “God help any man who’s brave enough to assume that role,” Chris said, poking fun at her.

  “Brave?” Amy said, nudging my side. “More like crazy, am I right?”

  “Oh, you two are so funny,” Danielle said, rolling her eyes, but with a smile, and it was clear the teasing was something she was used to. It was their group dynamic—they all seemed to find humor in picking on one another.

  Amy finally slid away from me and made her way back across the room. She joined Chris, Eli, and Danielle as they moved their conversation out of the foyer and into the common room.

  Theo mentioned something about hanging around for dinner and making something for the group, and then he turned to go back to the kitchen. I stood at the edge of the dining room and watched as the young couple reconnected with Chris and Danielle, each of them smiling and laughing.

  They were happy together, the four of them, a group of friends who clicked so well. My heart pinched. I missed that. I missed Carrie. But the warmth I’d felt at Amy’s embrace had stuck with me, and I held onto that, cherishing that friendly gesture. For one small moment, I’d felt like I belonged somewhere again.

  “Are you gonna stand there all day, or are you gonna come in here and join us?” Amy asked, moving over on the couch to make room for me. “Come on. Get in here.”

  I took a few hesitant steps into the room and sat next to her, and Chris beamed a smile at me from where he sat down on the floor.

  “Chris, the place looks great,” Amy said, throwing a look around the room. “You guys have outdone yourselves.”

  “Yeah, but I’ve gotta ask,” Eli said. “What’s with the tree?”

  “Uh-huh, I told you,” Danielle said, cutting a look to Chris. “It’s a mess.”

  “I like it,” Amy said. “It’s small, understated. You nailed it.”

  “All the credit goes to Syd,” Chris said. “It was her p
roject.”

  “But he picked it out,” I added. “It was a joint effort.”

  “A joint effort, huh?” Amy smiled, looking to Chris for a long minute, and then she turned back to me. “You did a great job.”

  “Thank you,” I said, humbled by her compliment. I was beginning to see her appeal. It was no wonder Theo, Chris, and Danielle were so ecstatic about Amy’s arrival. She had a special spark about her, something that emanated kindness.

  She sat and talked with Eli, Danielle, and Chris for a while longer, and I sank back into my spot on the couch and vaguely listened to their conversations.

  I was too enamored by how nice the last two days had felt inside the walls of the B&B. First, the team meeting and the final touches on the house. Yesterday afternoon and today with Theo in the kitchen, learning the basics to a skill I would never perfect. Better yet, reaching some kind of common ground and understanding with him. And now, being invited into a close-knit group of friends, if only for a while.

  It was an interesting change of pace, and one that I was sure to love, one that I’d—

  “Oh, God,” I muttered under my breath, turning to look around the room at each of their faces. I pushed myself off the couch and stood quickly, bringing all of their eyes to me.

  “Syd?” Chris asked. “You’re pale. Are you—”

  “I’ve gotta go,” I said, rushing out of the room, not giving any of them a chance to ask questions. Once passed the stairs and in the safety of the owner’s quarters, I forced the privacy door shut, closing the barrier between me and them. Leaning back against the door, I struggled for air, fought to catch a breath.

  “Oh, God, no,” I said, dropping my head back. A slow tear streamed down my cheek, and I forced myself to stand straighter.

  I couldn’t go back out there.

  I didn’t belong out there, as much as I wanted to.

  They were not my friends. That was not my life . . .

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Knock, knock,” Theo said, peeking his head through my cracked bedroom door. “Can I come in?” I looked up, carefully considering my answer, but I didn’t give him an indication one way or the other. “Sydney?”