The Beginning: An eShort Prequel to the Bridge
Page 5
“Tell me about your classes,” Charlie would say. Then he’d pull up a chair as if he had all day to hear details about music lectures and science tests and the English lit reports they were working on.
Donna would sometimes pull Molly aside. “That boy’s in love with you,” she’d say. “When are you both going to admit it?”
Molly would laugh. “We’re just friends. Seriously.”
“Hmm.” Donna would raise her eyebrows. “I guess we’ll see.”
By the end of the first semester, Molly felt closer to Charlie and Donna than she felt to her own parents.
“I’m never going back,” she told Ryan more than one afternoon while they were at The Bridge. “They can’t make me.”
He would grin at her, his eyes shining in a way that stayed with her still. “No one can make us do anything.”
It took only a few study dates to learn all there was to know about each other. Molly told him things she hadn’t told anyone. How her life back home suffocated her and how she had never considered crossing her parents or disobeying them. She told him about Preston and her father’s corporation and the plans he had for her.
He was honest, too. “I have a girlfriend back in Carthage.” He watched her, looking for a reaction. “We’ve dated since our sophomore year of high school. Our families attend the same church.”
Molly felt the sting of the news, but she didn’t let him see. She couldn’t date him, anyway. He would be her friend, nothing more. Knowing about his girlfriend back home only made him safer, giving her permission to get as close to him as she wanted.
In the beginning, Ryan talked about his girlfriend fairly often. “Her dad’s a farmer,” he told Molly one day when they were studying at The Bridge. “He’s giving her two acres, so later . . . you know, we can live there.”
Molly nodded, thoughtful. She didn’t look away, didn’t waver in her connection to him. “How will you be a professional guitar player in Carthage, Mississippi?”
His quiet chuckle was colored with discouragement. “I wouldn’t be. Everyone thinks I’ll come back and teach music at the high school.”
“What about you?” Her voice grew softer, the quiet of the store’s living room encouraging the conversation. “What do you want?”
“It’s a good Plan B, teaching music. I like Carthage.”
It hit her then how much they had in common, their lives already planned out. Suddenly she couldn’t stand the thought. “No, Ryan!” She took hold of his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You can’t settle. You have to go for Plan A. Tour the world with the top country bands and play that beautiful guitar of yours.”
“Me?” He laughed again, but his eyes showed a hint of adventure that hadn’t been there before. “What about you? None of this Preston and San Francisco for you, Molly Allen. You have to play violin for the philharmonic.” His laughter faded, and he’d never looked more serious. “No matter what they want for you.”
Like that, their dreams were set. They promised to push each other, to never settle for anything but the place where their hearts led. They took turns commuting to Belmont, and they shared a ride every day from the beginning. Ryan would pull his truck up at the corner of McGavock Farms and Murray, where she’d be waiting, out of sight of the staff. He’d take her to school and then to The Bridge when classes were done.
Homework wasn’t all they did at The Bridge. They also found books, classics that spoke deeply to them. Gone with the Wind and her favorite, Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre. From the beginning Molly related to the heroine and her determination to do the right thing, even at the cost of love. They read Jane Eyre aloud to each other, and once in a while, on the drive to The Bridge, they would quote lines to each other.
“‘I’m asking what Jane Eyre would do to secure my happiness,’” Ryan would say in his best English accent, quoting Rochester.
“‘I would do anything for you, sir.’” She would quote Jane in her own Victorian accent, stifling the giggles that always came when they were together. “‘Anything that was right.’”
When they weren’t quoting Brontë’s novel, they sang along with the radio and talked about their classes and dreamed of the future. For two wonderful years they never talked about the one thing that seemed so obvious at the time, the thing that could’ve made all the difference. They never talked about whether their friendship was a cover for the obvious.
That maybe they were in love with each other.
As the video wound down and Sam curled up on the floor beside her, as her tears slid down her cheeks the way they did every time she watched the film, Molly couldn’t help but think the one thing she would always think this time of year.
She should’ve said something.
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Karen Kingsbury
The Bridge
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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Copyright © 2012 by Karen Kingsbury
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First Howard Books ebook edition September 2012
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ISBN 978-1-4767-1355-7
Published in association with the literary agency Alive Communications, Inc., 7680 Goddard Street, Suite 200, Colorado Springs, Colorado, 80920, www.alivecommunications.com.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Excerpt from The Bridge