by Temple West
“I thought you might not have anything to wear with that dress, so I dug this out,” Rachel said, stepping through my door. In her hands was a black, floor-length wool coat.
“That’s gorgeous,” I breathed.
“I bought it on a whim when I lived in the city,” she said, holding up the coat to me. “Don’t have much use for it now.” I slid my arms through the champagne-pink satin lining.
“You lived in New York?”
She smiled. “A long time ago. I’d won a few beauty pageants in high school; thought I wanted to be a model.”
I had not known this. “Why’d you leave?”
Her smile grew. “I met Joe. My car broke down in Stony Creek on my way to visit a friend and he happened to be the only one around for miles. I fell in love with the town, and I fell in love with him. After that, I didn’t want to be anywhere else.”
“Rachel,” I began, and she looked at me. I didn’t know exactly how to say this. “A while back, Joe mentioned that he knew why you and my mom stopped talking. If there’s really a reason why I never met you guys before my mom died, would you tell me, sometime?”
She pressed her lips into a thin line, and I couldn’t tell if she was sad or angry. After a moment, she smiled. “Yes. But not tonight. Now go on, I bet Adrian’s waiting.”
She pushed me gently out the door and I tried not to trip going down the stairs wearing the high heels and the bulky coat. I reached the bottom, looked up, and realized that Adrian was standing there, next to the door, watching me with a small smile on his face. He was wearing his usual understated designer jeans, but he’d put on nice shoes and beneath his coat I could see a collared shirt. I was glad I wasn’t the only one who’d sort of dressed up.
When I reached him, he bent down and kissed me on the cheek, whispering, “You look beautiful.”
I blushed and mumbled, “Thank you.”
“I expect you to take care of Caitlin,” Joe warned.
Adrian leaned back and met his gaze. “I will. I promise.”
For a moment, I was sucked back into the nightmare—the one where I’d fallen asleep in my father’s arms and woken in Adrian’s; the one where he’d promised my dad the exact same thing he’d just promised my uncle.
Joe nodded gravely. “I’ll hold you to that. Remember, I know where you live.” Rachel smiled and dug her elbow into her husband’s ribs, hard. He sighed. “All right; get out of here and have fun.”
“Good night!” I called out over my shoulder and shut the door behind me. It was snowing and despite the heavy coat, I shivered. “Sorry about that.”
Adrian held out his arm and I latched on to it as we picked our way to the truck. He opened the passenger door and helped me in.
We listened to Frank Sinatra on the way to Trish’s house without saying a word. It was surprisingly pleasant to just lean next to him in the dark, in silence. Soon, we reached Trish’s house. Before I even had time to knock, it flew open.
“Happy New Year’s!”
Trish enveloped me in a bear hug and invited us in. Music was playing from somewhere in the house and streamers were hung from the ceiling. I saw all the girls, plus Ben and a few boys, as well as Trish’s parents and brothers. We took our coats off and Trish threw them in the downstairs guest room. When I turned back, Adrian was staring at me.
“What?” I asked, looking down at my dress, horrified that I’d spilled something or that my underwear was showing.
“Nothing,” he said, and looked quickly away. “You thirsty? I’m thirsty.” He steered us over to the snack table and poured me a glass of punch. Trish was passing by and I caught her arm.
“This isn’t … special punch, is it?” I muttered so only she could hear.
She grinned. “Sadly, no. My parents would kind of notice if I spiked the refreshments.”
I smiled and let her go. When I looked at Adrian again, he was refilling his glass.
“Are you okay?” I asked, touching his arm.
He glanced down at my hand, then back up at my face. “I’m fine.”
“Okay,” I said, puzzled.
“Caitlin?” a voice behind me asked. I turned and looked at a girl standing in a midnight-blue dress, her white-blond hair pinned back in a French twist.
“Yes?” I asked.
She blinked. I looked at her again more closely.
“Jenny?”
She smiled a little. “Trish helped me get ready.”
Not only was she wearing a dress instead of a washed-out, thrift-store sweater, she was also wearing makeup, jewelry, and heels. She was Jenny, but she was Jenny.
I gave her a startled hug. “You look amazing!”
She blushed.
“Hello, Caitlin,” I heard someone say behind me. It was Jack, Jenny’s twin. He nodded to Adrian in greeting.
Before I could reply, someone else joined our group.
“Hey,” Mark said, standing in slacks and a rumpled, paint-spattered shirt with his hair pulled back in a loose French braid. He looked like a scoundrel, in a romantic way, and Jenny blushed at the sight of him.
“Mark, right?” Adrian asked.
“That’s right. And you’re … Abram? Ayden?”
“Adrian.”
He nodded as if he remembered now. He looked at me, then Jenny, then Jenny’s brother. “I’ve already met Caitlin and Jenny, so you must be Jack.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Mark.”
Across the circle, I could see Jenny turn even redder. I even held my breath a little.
Jack shook Mark’s hand. “Thanks for inviting us.”
“It was all Trish’s idea,” he said. “I just live here. Speaking of, I have to go help my dear mother with the hors d’oeuvres. Enjoy the party.”
He made a quick exit, but not before making eye contact with Jenny for a split second.
“Jenny!” Stephanie called excitedly from across the room.
“See you later, Caitlin,” Jenny said, and escaped to the safety of a group of girls. Jack nodded at us and wandered off.
“What was that all about?” Adrian asked.
Not wanting to be overheard, I said, “Quick, hug me.”
He seemed to hesitate, but a moment later, I felt his arms circle my waist. I put my hand on his neck and pulled him down until I could whisper in his ear.
“When I was over here the other night, Jenny and Mark were up at four in the morning talking together in the kitchen. He asked her to model for him this summer. You’re objective. I was wondering if you could watch them tonight and tell me what you think.”
“You want me to spy on them?”
“Not spy so much as observe.”
“Why do you care?”
“I’m paranoid he’s your dad.”
Adrian turned sharply to look at Mark’s retreating figure, and I pulled his face back. “Don’t look now! You’re the worst spy ever.”
“I’ll check it out,” Adrian murmured.
“Movie’s starting!” Trish called.
“What’re we watching?” someone called out.
“Moulin Rouge!” she yelled back.
People started congregating in the family room, so we followed. Somehow in the chaos of trying to seat that many people in that small of a room, Adrian and I ended up sitting together on the love seat. Way off in the shadows of the room sat Meg, Steph, Laura, and Jenny. Jack had gotten stuck sitting next to Paul and Jimmy on the floor.
I wondered where Mark was. Just as the movie started, I saw him slip into the corner. Jenny didn’t react, but for a moment she closed her eyes. I looked at Adrian and saw he was surreptitiously glancing over at the corner every now and again.
I settled into the love seat more comfortably, curling up next to Adrian (because people would expect us to look all lovey-dovey, especially on New Year’s Eve) and he put his arm around my shoulders, but like earlier, he seemed to hesitate. I didn’t have time to think about it because Ewan McGregor went into a spitfire narration about the children of the revol
ution and bohemians and narcoleptic Argentineans.
I watched the rest of the movie feeling like I had a little golden ball of happiness inside me that was engulfed by a cold, crushing mass of sadness. It didn’t help that Ewan McGregor was singing every five minutes about how great love was and all you need is love and we should be lovers forever and ever and all that sentimental crap that somehow seemed so sincere coming from him.
And of course, she dies—even after they defeat the creepy-ass duke, she dies anyway. He couldn’t save her. Love didn’t win.
I wasn’t the only girl who was teary-eyed at the end of the movie. Who the hell’s idea was it to watch Moulin Rouge! anyway?
As we let the melancholy credits roll, Trish solemnly announced that it was almost time. I hadn’t realized the movie was that long—but here we were, five minutes from midnight.
Trish switched the channel to a news station and the TV host talked animatedly about the upcoming countdown. Everyone perked up and got chatty as Trish passed around champagne poppers and kazoos. I closed my eyes, afraid my face revealed how upset I was.
“Caitlin?” I heard Adrian ask, sounding mildly concerned.
I turned my face toward his and smiled. “I’m just tired,” I told him, which was true, if not the truth, per se.
“One minute!” Trish yelled. The excitement in the room rose tangibly.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
I nodded and kept the smile plastered on my face, trying to make it look relaxed and natural. I was going to have to get better at lying to him. Which would be a trick, considering he could read my emotions.
I guess I’d have to get better at lying to myself.
“Thirty seconds!”
Somehow over the course of the movie I had pretty much wriggled my way onto his lap. I leaned my head back against the armrest and looked up at him; his dark, wavy hair partly shadowing his face. I reached up and slowly brushed it back.
“Ten seconds! Nine!”
I slid my hand down his jaw, over his chest, and splayed my fingers over his heart, listening with my fingertips to the incredibly slow beat.
“Eight! Seven!” the crowd yelled on the TV. “Six!” everyone in the room shouted. “Five!”
I wanted to tell him. He had to know, it was important that he know—
“Four! Three! Two! One!”
—I was done pretending.
“Happy New Year!” a dozen voices cried out as an avalanche of confetti burst onto the TV screen and filled Times Square.
But I barely heard them.
I leaned close—so close my lashes brushed his cheek—and waited, giving him a chance to pull away. But he didn’t. He tilted his face toward me a fraction of an inch—
And I kissed him.
It was soft and still, like one breath would break us both. He drew in a sharp breath and pressed his lips to my temple, eyes flared into their luminous silver. He pinched them closed, resting his cheek against mine. I slid my fingers through his hair and let my cool hand rest on his warm neck, slowly folding him into my arms. He buried his face in my shoulder and hugged me tightly.
We didn’t say anything.
I held on to him as long as he would let me, and then I let him go.
As we were leaving, Adrian intentionally bumped into Mark while helping me on with my coat, to get a better “read.” When we got into the truck, he told me that Mark was definitely human—he could actually sense his emotions and they all felt “light,” which I guess was a good thing. Basically, there was no way he was Adrian’s dad.
When we got to the ranch, Adrian walked me to the door and popped inside to say good night to Joe—who’d waited up for me—before driving home. I wondered, not for the first time, how he got back over every night, and how he got past the locked front door. He couldn’t dare take the truck, because Rachel and Joe would be able to see it from their bedroom window. Did he walk? It was a mile each way. Which really wasn’t that far for someone like him, but still, it was every night in the snow and the dark.
I didn’t wonder long, though, because I was asleep the moment my head hit the pillow. When I woke up, Adrian was just kicking his shoes off to climb into bed. I sat up to give him enough room, then realized I hadn’t set my alarm for the next day. Unfortunately, I’d left a half-full mug of coffee on my nightstand right next to my phone, and when I groped blindly for it, I knocked the mug over. It crashed to the floor, spilling coffee all over my pillows—and Adrian’s white shirt.
It was a mark of how distracted he was that his first thought was to take care of the stain—instead of listen and see whether anyone else had heard the noise.
He’d just pulled his shirt over his head when the door burst open and the light flipped on. Norah stood there with a fireplace hatchet and a sleepy look on her face.
“I heard a—”
But she stopped dead when she saw Adrian sitting next to me in bed, half-naked.
We all froze in a moment of mutually stunned silence.
And then, of course, Joe came in behind Norah.
“What’s going on?” he asked, eyes still adjusting to the light as he squinted into the room. It didn’t take him long, however, to notice who was in bed with me.
Without a word, Joe took the hatchet from his daughter’s hand.
“Norah, go back to bed.”
Shit. That was Joe’s serious voice.
Norah slunk off immediately, although I would’ve bet money she had her ear pressed to the door. I’m pretty sure she had rushed in here with the hatchet to protect me from whatever it was she’d thought had been attacking, but Joe looked like he wanted to use it for other purposes.
And then Rachel walked in.
It took her a split second longer to take in and process the scene before her.
I knew I should speak up and explain what was really going on, but—how? For once, Adrian was just as tongue-tied as I was—and probably just as scared.
Joe finally pointed at Adrian with the hatchet. “You—out.”
Adrian pulled his still-damp shirt back over his head and stood, grabbing his shoes.
Joe didn’t move, so Adrian had to shuffle sideways to get through the door. Joe and Rachel shared a look before Joe followed Adrian, and Rachel stepped into my room, closing the door behind her.
“Would you like to tell me anything about what just happened?” Rachel asked. I could see a vein beating in her temple.
I didn’t say anything. Honestly, what could I say that she would believe? There was no way to defend myself.
“I’m disappointed,” Rachel continued after I didn’t speak. “You told me earlier tonight that you and Adrian weren’t … together. You lied to me.”
I could feel my face burning, not in embarrassment, but in anger. This was unfair. She didn’t know it was unfair, but it was still unfair, and it made me really, really angry. I already knew what was coming next.
“Consider yourself grounded until further notice,” Rachel said. “Joe and I will discuss this with you in the morning.” She turned to leave and then stopped, looking back over her shoulder. She opened her mouth, as if to speak, then closed it again. Finally, she left, turning off the light behind her.
In the darkness, I sat very still. If I moved, all of the rage would leak out somewhere, and I’d do something rash, like yell, or slam my door, or run out in the night to go scream and throw rocks at birds. I stayed still until I started shaking, and then I lay down and stared blankly at the wall, and didn’t fall asleep until dawn.
* * *
I wasn’t allowed to see Adrian anymore. Rachel drove me to school every morning, and picked me up every afternoon, as if afraid I’d make a run for it.
They couldn’t keep me from seeing Adrian on campus, but that hardly mattered—he seemed to be punishing me as well, though for what, I had no idea, because he refused to talk to me. At lunch, he’d walk me to the picnic tables and even sit next to me, but he wouldn’t speak or make eye contact unles
s someone started acting suspicious. If necessary, he’d put his arm around my shoulders mechanically or kiss my hair.
After lunch, we’d walk hand in hand to my fifth-period class—silently. In study hall, if I asked him to help with algebra or chemistry, he would. Other than that, we didn’t talk. I convinced Rachel and Joe that without Adrian, I’d be failing my classes, so they occasionally let him over to the living room to tutor me, but they’d be sitting in the same room with us, chaperoning. I made a habit of shoving my hands into my coat pockets so no one would see that they were shaking. The rage of several months ago came back in full force, drenching every moment.
The one thing that surprised me was that Rachel and Joe let me hang out with Trish—in fact, they encouraged it. Maybe they figured if I hung out with my friends more often, I’d forget about Adrian. I went over to Trish’s three or four times a week for the afternoon, and often one of the others would come, too; mostly Meghan, but sometimes Stephanie with Laura or Jenny. Ben was also over at Trish’s a lot. He never interfered with us hanging out with her, but he was always nearby, and I often caught the two lying side by side on the floor or sitting next to each other on the couch, holding hands, as if that simple expression was all they needed to say how they felt about each other. I felt so happy for Trish, and for Ben too, I suppose, but mixed in was a stupid bitterness. The most complicated thing that would ever interfere in their relationship was whether or not Trish made it into Oxford. I could picture him gladly going with her. I could picture them getting married. I could picture them with big, fat babies, and grandbabies. They would eat scones and start saying “poppycock!” and they’d be happy.
I tried to push the bitterness down.
I tried—but most days, I failed.
16
FAIRY GODMOTHER
Rachel dropped me off at school and I shuffled, eyes mostly closed, to homeroom. I got all of three steps before tripping over the curb, landing on a piece of ice, and going straight down in a flail of limbs. Adrian was walking ahead of me down the sidewalk and must have done his vampire thing and rushed over, because I never actually hit the ground. Holding me, he sighed—an angry sound—and put his arm around my waist as he half dragged, half led me to Mr. Warren’s class. Trish met us at the door and stared curiously.
