Ethan, I thought with a sigh, I am not making dinner tonight.
“Jane?” he called, walking inside.
I emerged from the kitchen into the entry.
“Oh, good,” he said. “You’re home. Already raiding the fridge?”
“No,” I lied.
I figured as long as he didn’t know I was hungry, he wouldn’t ask me to cook. Well, if you’re that hungry, why don’t you cook us some dinner? he would say.
“Well…you look hungry.”
“No,” I answered dryly, averting my gaze from his dark eyes. “I…uh…picked something up on the way home from the bookstore.”
“Mm hmm,” he murmured. “Okay. Perhaps I’ll just throw together some twenty-minute pasta.”
“Sure, Dad. I…uh…have unpacking to do.”
“I ran into Mark Thompson,” he said quickly before I disappeared up the stairs. “Do you remember him?”
“Yeah, sort of.”
“He says ‘hi’ and maybe Rudy will be down later to visit you.”
I nodded. “Okay,” I answered, trying to sound interested.
I raced up to my bedroom before he could respond and locked the door. The room was empty except for the bed still with Ethan’s blue cotton sheets. The walls were a light blue that matched the bed sheets. The rest of the room was an empty closet—an empty wooden dresser next to the door and dozens of boxes shoved in the corner, along with a few trash bags filled with some of my dad’s old stuff that he hadn’t cleared out yet. I turned on the stereo Ethan had set on the dresser and drifted away into my mind. I began to feel an unnatural lethargic energy, forcing me to doze off.
“JANE!”
My eyes darted open, and I yawned, opening my door.
“Dinner,” Ethan said.
I sauntered down the stairs, seemingly half asleep.
“You all right?” he mused.
“Fine. Just suddenly feeling hungry.”
“Hmm, you don’t say.” He chuckled giving me a crooked smile and a playfully accusing look. He tried too hard.
I stared down at my plate, twirling the noodles over and over.
“I’m really glad you’re here,” Ethan announced.
My eyes locked onto his. He was smiling, so I faked a smile back, having no idea how to respond. I was usually so good at this, but with Ethan, with my own father, I didn’t know how to pretend at all. The rest of dinner was silent, which wasn’t unusual.
I missed my home in California a lot more than I expected to and was beginning to wonder if I could ever get used to North Bend. California was the place I had considered my home for over seventeen years. Suddenly, I was trapped in my father’s world, a strange, unfamiliar place, with strange, unfamiliar faces. North Bend was beautiful, I won’t deny. Just a small coastal city literally on the north bend of Coos Bay with gorgeous sunsets and beautiful beaches but it wasn’t enough to make me feel content. Ethan didn’t know how to respond to any of the things that involved me in even the slightest way. Clueless was an understatement. I guess I couldn’t blame him; I wasn’t exactly what you would call “normal.”
The next day, my dad had me help him move some boxes to the attic. It had been a while since I had gone to visit, and my bedroom had become my dad’s storage unit in the past year. I pushed the boxes against the wall and spotted a large redwood chest in the back corner.
“Dad, what’s in that?”
He followed my eyes. “Oh, that old thing? I think it’s empty.”
“Don’t you have a key for it or something?” I asked, eyeing a tiny silver lock.
He shook his head. “It belonged to my grandfather. I’m pretty sure it’s empty. I had nowhere to put it, so I moved it up here years ago. I had actually forgotten about it.”
“It’s nice.”
“Yeah—it’s old. So have you been around the block yet, saying ‘hi’ to all your old friends?” He made the waving motion with his right hand. “The Thompsons were really happy when they heard you were coming to stay with me.”
I smiled, not really listening to what he was saying. I gathered enough to respond. “Not yet.”
“Thanks for the help, Jane. Sorry to ask you. You have your own unpacking to do still.”
“It’s not a problem at all. It is my room we’re clearing out after all.”
He smiled.
I climbed down the ladder and headed back to my room.
Chapter Two
I was planning on locking myself in my room for the remainder of the day, but something inside of me had made me terribly anxious, and I ached to get out. As I headed for the door, I heard a knock. I jumped, startled, and prepared myself to tell someone I wasn’t interested in their product.
“Oh.” I sighed in relief, opening the door to see familiar gray eyes. “Becky.”
Becky was like the sister of my soul. I met her one summer when I was out visiting my grandparents, and we instantly clicked. Since my parents’ divorce, Ethan moved here, and I saw her more often than I ever hoped I would. She was the only person I was able to let myself love. Surprisingly enough, it was a relief that she never tried to cheer me up and rarely asked me what was wrong or what she could do to help. She just always knew. I meant to get around to visiting her since I’d moved in but had been preoccupied trying to get settled.
“Yeah.” She laughed. “Just me.”
“God, I thought you were selling something,” I said, frowning. “Come in, I guess.”
“I don’t usually ask you this, but are you all right?”
“Well…yeah. I’m obviously beside reality, Becky.”
“I know how reclusive you can be, but as long as you don’t cut me out of your little world, I’ll be okay.” She laughed. I appreciated how she never pushed an issue. She understood that when I wanted to talk about something, I would.
“I see you’re on your way out?”
“Yeah.” I sighed. “I have no idea where I was going.”
She smiled. “You’d end up where you always do.”
I chuckled. “I guess it’s the only place where I feel like I can actually think.”
“It’s funny, Jane,” she started, “that you go to the bookstore to think and go to your bedroom to read.”
“I don’t have room in my mind to realize when things don’t make sense.”
“You can’t keep beating yourself up.”
“Oh, but I can.”
“Jane…” She sighed, shutting the front door, and sat beside me on the stairs. “Nothing was your fault.”
“I know,” I answered. “I’m very much sure of that, Becky, but to be perfectly honest, that’s what hurts. It hurts more to know that I had absolutely no control over it, to know that I couldn’t protect him. I had to get out of California.”
She embraced me. It was the only response I wanted, the only one I needed, and she must have known that. She suggested coming with me for a cup of coffee.
We sat down, and I instantly launched into complaining about Aidan.
“So this totally annoying guy was harassing me the other day.”
“What do you mean?” She laughed.
“Well, I was just minding my own business, trying to find an interesting book, and he felt it necessary to ask me my name about ten times.”
“Okay, and this is bad how?”
“I have no idea who he is and made it clear that I wasn’t interested in finding out.”
“Why not?”
“There was something about him that struck me as…odd.”
She laughed. “Yeah, you’re one to judge what’s odd.”
I smiled, about to respond, when I noticed Aidan across the room, staring at me with those enticing green eyes. I looked away trying to pretend I didn’t notice him. I saw Becky eyeing the guy over by the condiments. She got up, pulling her top down, showing more cleavage than I thought necessary. She flipped her long, brown hair as she added a suggestive sway to her hips. I decided to leave her to it and secluded myself in the Ne
w Age section, flipping through books on Santeria and Wicca. It was quiet, and for once, I was able to put myself to rest and actually think. I saw a face in my mind, a face I hadn’t seen in three years, the one with innocent blue eyes I dreamed of every night. I sighed, savoring the vision. My thoughts were instantly shattered by a familiar voice.
“Reading?” I heard.
“No,” I answered, placing a book back on the shelf. “No, the book and I were just having a conversation.”
“All right.” He chuckled. “I asked for that one.”
I picked up a random book and opened it to a random page, trying to ignore my irritating distraction.
“So, what’s new with you?”
“Why?” I asked. “It’s not like you’re actually interested.”
“Why do you have to be like that?” he demanded, sounding almost angry. “I’m just trying to be nice to you.”
“Look, Aidan,” I started, slamming the book closed. “I’m not interested in being nice, okay? I just want to be left alone.”
“Nobody likes to always be alone.”
“Then does that make me nobody?”
He opened his mouth to speak, but I put my hand up. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I just—I just want to be left alone.”
“Well…can I at least get your name?”
I sighed. “Jane Doe,” I said and turned away.
I heard him mumble as he followed me. “Oh, yeah—now that one is real original.”
I smiled at the sarcasm in his voice and heard him pick up his pace as he followed me.
“Okay, just your first name then?”
“I just told you.”
“Jane?” he questioned. “Well, is that—?”
“Aidan—please!” I announced, turning around sharply.
“Fine,” he mumbled. “Nice meeting you.”
I sighed and turned back around. I heard him grumble as he walked away, and I was thinking about saying something to make him feel less offended. After all, my not wanting to talk to him was nothing personal.
I turned to look at him, but he was already gone. “Well…good,” I muttered. At least I was alone.
I met back up with Becky and used my mess of packed boxes as an excuse to leave the bookstore and get away from Aidan.
I locked myself in my room with a random romance novel I had bought without even reading the title. I was more tired than usual, but something kept me awake. I closed my eyes, simply waiting for sleep to find me. Suddenly, a feeling of dread washed over me and tore me from that trance between sleep and awake. I sprang up in bed as headlights cut across my window.
Daniel!
I raced down the stairs and opened the door. I saw him stumbling toward me. His mouth was open like he wanted to speak, but all he was doing was crying. The light from the porch illuminated that sight that would haunt my mind for the rest of my life. His eyebrows were drawn together, pressing thin creases into his forehead. He looked miserable, nothing like himself. There was this frightened look in his eyes, almost angry, in agony. I stood there in the doorway, watching him stumble farther into the light. I wanted to run to him but was paralyzed in my place. He had his hand clutching at his stomach.
“Danny?” He fell limply into my arms. I could feel panic creeping into my voice.
“Jane,” he choked out.
I felt hypnotized at the sight of his hand gripping his stomach and the thin lines of blood running down his fingers. I lost my breath for a moment. I saw that look through my own tears, the one he would give me when we were really young and I would fall off my bike, telling me he was there and everything was going to be all right. I could see the color draining from his face, accenting the blue of his eyes, turning them to a light crystal hue.
“Oh God, Danny!” I ran my fingers through his hair. “Oh God. Please don’t leave me. Please!”
I saw him weakly smile at me, and I screamed his name when those gorgeous eyes of his closed. I cradled him in my arms, trying to ignore the blood that was by then covering his hand.
My mother flew down the stairs in her nightdress and robe.
“Mom!” I cried. “MOM!”
She pushed me aside and covered her mouth with her hand when she saw the blood on my shirt. I screamed as loud as I could. I screamed for long moments, letting out the feelings of pure agony.
I flew up in bed, running my hands through my hair. I sighed heavily and lay back down. “No more nightmares,” I whispered to myself. “Please!” The dreams were always different, but when I awoke, one thing was always the same—Daniel was dead. Every time I dreamed, it was reminding me of all the ways I hadn’t been there for him.
I tried to shut my eyes again, but the dream just kept replaying. That beautiful boy in my arms, bleeding furiously all over my white shirt. How is it fair that things like that must happen? The pain in the dream was so real, the fear, the torture. I cried, exhausting myself, and finally fell back asleep. The last thing I saw was the digital clock reading 4:17 a.m.
I woke up to the phone on my nightstand.
“Hello?”
“Hey. Did I wake you up?”
“Uh…no. Don’t worry about it, Becky. What is it?”
“Wondering about our beach trip today?”
“Oh!” I cried sitting up. “Of course. I forgot. Gimmie maybe thirty minutes.”
“Okay. See you then.”
I hurried myself, but Becky got there sooner than I expected. I grabbed a towel and hurried to Becky’s car after leaving a note for Ethan, telling him where I was.
We laid out our brightly colored towels and watched the waves break. It was colder than I had expected being so used to the heat of California, but the sun was out. Though low in the sky, it was still there. It wasn’t a crowded beach like California. We were the only people there. It seemed unnatural for things to be so quiet, but I enjoyed it. Seagulls rode the waves in the distance, and sometimes the clouds would come in and darken the sky for minutes at a time. The water was the color of smoke, but if the light hit it right, you could really see the lovely blue tint reflecting from the patch of sky not covered by the clouds.
Becky’s perfect figure in her black bikini made me feel so self-conscious, and her dark, round sunglasses seemed completely unnecessary. I pulled my attention back to the breaking waves.
“So,” she started slyly, “what about Aidan?”
His name made me jump, and I turned quickly to look at her but suddenly recoiled. “Who?”
She laughed. “Yeah, he came to talk to me. After you left, the last time we were at the coffee shop.”
“What? He just won’t give up.”
“He really wanted to know your name.”
I groaned and turned my attention back to the horizon. “You didn’t tell him, did you?”
“Jane…” She sighed. “Come on.”
“So…?”
“Well…when I told him, for some reason he got mad at me.”
I burst into laughter. “Oh God!”
“What?” she cried.
“I’m sorry. It’s just…I did tell him my name.” I chuckled. “He didn’t believe me. He thinks I’m messing with him.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you were,” she said dryly.
“Why do you say that?” I asked, slightly defensive.
“You don’t like people, Jane. That simple.”
“Huh,” I mused.
“But you still like him.”
“God, Becky. No, not at all!” I broke eye contact, bringing my gaze to the sand as I ran my fingers through it, feeling the unexpected coolness.
She smiled, not at all convinced by my outburst. “I think you do.”
“Well, maybe you don’t know as much as you think you do,” I answered, keeping my voice even. “I just like his eyes. I mean, I guess he’s sort of nice looking.”
She laughed. “Yeah, nice looking. That’s an understatement if there ever was one.”
“All right,” I admitted. “He’s
beautiful, but he’s irritating.”
She shook her head. “Well, then I guess it would be okay for me to ask him out.”
“What?”
“Well…you wouldn’t mind, would you? Since you don’t like him I—”
“No, go ahead,” I answered, trying to fight back the unexpected sting of jealousy.
“Uh huh,” she murmured, looking at me suspiciously.
“Well, honestly, Becky, I can’t say he isn’t intriguing. I mean, nobody has ever been so persistent about knowing my name.”
She chuckled. “I know.”
“I need a new one.”
“A new…name?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“One that fits me better, more original—like me.”
“Fits you better?” She laughed. “Are you crazy? Jane Callahan fits you perfectly.”
“Well, you’re biased.”
“Am I?”
“Sure. You’ve never known me as anything different.”
“Still. I think it’s perfect.”
I thought about it for a moment, trying to keep my expression unreadable. “Maybe.”
Chapter Three
I felt I didn’t exist. I died that warm night in May. I died the night when Detective Styles knocked on my door, giving my family news of Danny’s death. I clung to everything I could remember about him, let go of everything else. Danny was different—like me in some ways. I’ve stopped trying to make sense of it, to make sense out of the fact that the only person who truly understood me was stolen from me.
I couldn’t stop thinking about what Becky had said. She knew me better than I knew myself, and I would not have been entirely honest with myself if I were to say that I wasn’t at least attracted to Aidan—that was a sure fact. He was flawless without a doubt, but I couldn’t let myself think about that. The species of men were as far on my agenda as possible. Summer break was almost over, and I was not yet ready to think about anything but college and how I was going to get there with my math skills where they were. Being the person I am, though, I couldn’t help but feel guilty about that afternoon in the bookstore. Had I just been a little too harsh?
Summers' Deceit (Hunters Trilogy Book 1) Page 2
