I turn to Harlin, nonchalant as possible. “I’ll see you at school on Monday,” I say, swiping a white rag over the counter even though it’s not dirty. I try not to stare, I honestly do, but when Harlin’s eyes meet mine, I’m once again swept up in the feeling I have when I’m around him.
“I can’t wait,” he murmurs, and lifts his coffee in thanks before turning and heading toward the door. My heart sinks. I really don’t want him to leave. Which is exactly why he has to.
River tsks, shaking his head slowly. “What would Ken think about you flirting with one of the Outsiders?”
“I wasn’t flirting,” I say. “But even if I was, Ezra would understand that talking with an attractive guy isn’t the same as running away with him on his motorcycle.”
“He has a motorcycle?” Soleil asks.
I pause, furrowing my brow. Does he? “I don’t know,” I murmur. “I’m not sure why I said that.”
“Uh, maybe you’re fantasizing a little much here, Claire,” River responds. He exchanges a playful look with Soleil.
“I’ll say.” Soleil laughs, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m surprised the windows weren’t steamed up when we walked in.”
“Stop,” I warn. Oh, fun. It’s gang-up-on-Claire time. “I hate both of you.”
“Dang, girl,” Soleil responds, slowly shaking her head. “Did you get a sunburn today? You sure are red.”
“Like a tomato,” River adds.
“Okay, great,” I say, untying my apron and ready to die of embarrassment. “I’m going in the back while you two comedians finish your routine.”
“Don’t be a baby,” River says, taking the apron from my hands. “We’re just messing with you.”
“Besides”—Soleil leans against the table—“it’s not like you like him like him. You have Ezra.”
I’m reminded of Lucy’s comment at the bonfire. That if the Frisbee had missed me, had hit Soleil instead, maybe she and Ezra would be the couple. It hadn’t occurred to me before. But now I suddenly wonder.
“Yep,” I say.
Soleil smiles slightly, her brow furrowed. She tosses another glance at River just as the bell over the door jingles. We all turn, and I’m pleasantly surprised when I see Lucy. She’s wearing a short pink halter dress and has sunglasses on her head. She looks like she belongs at the beach—like maybe she’s trying to blend in.
“Hey!” I call. I hadn’t really gotten a chance to talk to her at the bonfire, and to be honest, I’m kind of curious about the deal between her and Harlin. The way they were glaring at each other, there has to be a story here.
“I’m taking you up on that latte offer.” She smiles broadly. “Oh.” She pauses, looking at the apron in River’s hand and then back at me. “Are you done for the day?”
“Yeah,” I respond. “I can still get you a drink, though.”
She shakes her head. “No worries. I was just trying to get out of my apartment. Actually, do you want to grab some lunch? I heard there’s a great Mexican restaurant on the beach.”
Soleil turns to me, waiting for my reply. “Yeah,” I tell Lucy. “I’m starving, and El Fuego has the best guacamole. Let me just clock out.”
Lucy nods, and I ignore the curious stares of River and Soleil. I’m supposed to go over to Ezra’s, but I’m sure he won’t mind if I stop for lunch first. It’s not like I’m going with another guy. With Harlin.
I punch my time card, and River appears next to me. “Stranger danger, Claire. First the motorcycle guy and now the new girl in town. You’re like some kind of rebel. It was rude not to invite Soleil at least.”
“I . . .” I’m about to argue, but then I see that River is right. It was rude not to ask Soleil to come along. She is my best friend. “I’ve been off lately,” I tell River. “I’ll invite her now.”
My brother continues to eye me like he’s trying to discern what’s wrong with me, and I go back to the front. But it’s just Lucy standing near the glass door.
“Where’s Soleil?” I ask, glancing around the room.
“She left,” Lucy says. “Said she had to go check on someone.” Lucy shrugs, and I grab my purse from behind the counter. Guess I did piss her off. I’ll call her when I get back, make sure she knows I wasn’t trying to be rude. “You ready?” Lucy asks.
El Fuego is a small restaurant just off the sand, with loud wallpaper, a half dozen tables, and killer guacamole. Most people sit at the outside bar to enjoy the ocean view, but Lucy and I opt for indoor seating because it’s air-conditioned. The temperature is really climbing.
“Have you always lived in Deseo?” Lucy asks after the server sets down a basket of chips. She dips one in guacamole and takes a bite. “This is good.”
“Told you.” I get a chip of my own. “Yep, I’m Californian, born and raised. My dad grew up here too. My mother’s family is from Mexico, but she and my dad met in culinary school twenty years ago. I’m the baby of the family.”
“The bakery was really cute,” Lucy says. “Do you enjoy it there?”
“Uh . . . sure. I mean, it could be worse. I could be working in some sketchy restaurant or out in the sun.”
“Well, then, you would have hated where I grew up. Dusty and hot and the only kinds of restaurants they have are sketchy. But I guess it had some charm. At least that’s what my dad says. He’s a pastor.”
“Are the two of you close?” I ask.
“Yeah.” Lucy smiles. “Yeah, we are.”
A sudden sadness crosses my heart. “I’m close to River. My parents are usually busy, and my other brothers are always gone. Sometimes it’s like River and I are on our own. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”
Lucy lowers her eyes, stirring her soda with a straw. “Ever feel like you don’t belong here?”
I don’t answer right away, as I consider that until yesterday I’d never felt out of place. Now I’m not so sure.
“I feel like that sometimes,” Lucy says quietly. “It was why I left Thistle. I didn’t belong anymore. Not without my sister.”
A knot forms in my stomach. “What do you mean? Did something happen to her?”
Lucy doesn’t look up. “She ran away.” I gasp, but she’s quick to explain. “Elise is all right. Just moved on, I guess. But I plan to bring her back. Dad and I . . . we aren’t a family without her.”
“I’m so sorry. Do you know where she is?”
Lucy glances up. “Not yet. She’s laying low. But I’m confident I’ll get her to come home. I’m just going to hang out in Deseo until she comes around.”
“I’m sure she will.” I smile, trying to be encouraging. In truth, I can’t imagine what it’d be like if one of my brothers just decided to run off—not to college, but to start over without us. It must hurt. What if River did that? What would I do?
The server delivers our food, and Lucy and I are quiet as we dig into our enchiladas. Now that I know about her sister, I feel like there’s a bond between us. I feel like I could tell her anything.
“Do . . .” I pause, my cheeks reddening. “Do you know a guy named Harlin?”
Lucy’s fork slips from her fingers and clatters on her plate. She apologizes quickly and picks it up, but from that reaction, I guess she does know him. Now I’m not sure I want to know the answer. If he has a girlfriend—
I stop the thought. Who cares if he has a girlfriend? I do, in fact, have a boyfriend. I need to remember that.
“Yeah, I know Harlin,” she says calmly. “He used to date my sister.”
My stomach sinks. At the bonfire, Harlin told me he wasn’t friends with Lucy. Why did he lie to me? “Is that why your sister left? Did she leave with him?”
Lucy wipes her hands on her napkin and tosses it on top of her plate. “No. She broke his heart. I don’t think he expected her to go away.” She sighs. “Harlin and I aren’t on the best of terms right now.”
“I noticed.”
Lucy laughs and glances around the quiet restaurant. “I should probably l
et you go,” Lucy says. “I got a job at the movie theater. Don’t want to be late for my first day.”
I take out cash and hold it up for the server. “I got this,” I tell Lucy.
“That’s sweet,” she says, looking touched. “Thank you.”
Once the bill is paid, Lucy and I walk toward my car. As we cross the parking lot, Lucy points toward the bus stop. “You go on ahead,” she says. “I’ll take the bus so I can time out the route. If I like this job, maybe we can barter lattes for movies.”
“I approve of this plan. Good luck.” We say good-bye, and when I get into the sunbaked air of the Jeep, I smile. It’s nice to hang out with someone new once in a while. And the fact that she knows Harlin—it’s weird. And sure, they’re not friends, but she knows about him. I can’t deny that I’m curious to hear what else she has to say when it comes to Harlin.
When I pull up to Ezra’s, I’m surprised to see Soleil’s car parked out front. She was annoyed with me earlier, but it’s not usual for her and Ezra to hang out. At least, not without me. God, not having a phone sucks. I feel completely out of the loop.
I climb the front porch steps, pulling out a stick of gum and popping it into my mouth before knocking. When the door opens, Ezra is in midlaugh.
“Hey, Becks,” he says, leaning against the doorframe. “I thought you forgot about me.”
I look behind him into the house but don’t see Soleil. Ezra is wearing swim trunks, his shoulders red because he never wears sunscreen. He must have been hanging by the pool. “I ended up having lunch with the new girl, Lucy,” I tell him. “Sorry—I should have called before I left the bakery.” I glance back at the car. “Is Soleil here?”
“Yeah,” Ezra says, coming out onto the porch to wrap his arms around my waist. His skin is hot as I run my hands down his back. “She stopped by to see how I was doing after last night.” Ezra kisses my cheek and hugs me close. “After that we decided to swim until you got here.”
Again, I’m struck by how strange that is. Then again, maybe I’m being paranoid. I pull back and kiss Ezra quickly. “I didn’t bring my suit,” I say. “Should I run home and get it?”
Ezra laughs into my hair. “Absolutely not.”
“Not skinny-dipping.”
“Okay, sure.” Ezra grins, and points toward the house. “Soleil’s here anyway. Did you want to say hi?”
“Uh . . .” I look down the hallway to where I know the pool is located. “I’ll see her when I get back.”
Ezra shrugs and gives me a kiss good-bye.
I walk off the porch, sort of dreading coming back. I’m not exactly sure why—but it’s weird. I feel so distant from my life. From Soleil. And from Ezra.
Chapter 5
The light turns red, and I ease on the brake until I stop. The streets are summertime quiet, a lazy pace the farther I get from the beach. A tingling starts in my toes. A warmth that climbs up my legs, over my arms. The heat brightens into pain, and I wince. I glance in my rearview mirror, and then roll through the light to turn on to a side street and park at the curb.
“Ow,” I murmur, resting my head against the steering wheel while I hold my gut. It’s like a cramp, but stronger. I don’t have a phone, so I can’t call my mom. I measure my breaths, hoping it will pass, but the pain only seems to get stronger.
I have to get out of the car. Somehow I know I have to escape. I straighten up and unclick my seat belt. With the movement, my pain seems to ease. I climb out of the car and walk to the sidewalk—drawn forward. I look around the street, searching for an explanation even though I know there isn’t one. What’s happening to me?
My eyes sting with tears as fear begins to make me tremble. I stagger over to the bus stop and drop down on the bench. I put my elbows on my knees and put my head in my hands as my heart pounds. Just then, I feel someone sit down next to me.
A wind blows over me, and I turn sideways and see Miriam Kemper, clutching her purse in her lap. Her face is wrinkled with deep lines, her navy dress baggy on her thin frame. I’ve known Miriam most of my life—she was a volunteer at the library until her husband died six months ago. And then, just as she lifts her watery blue eyes, I’m struck with a vision.
No, not again. Before I can fight it, I’m submerged in Miriam’s life as if I’m there.
Miriam is lying in bed with her husband of forty years. It’s dark, the only light from the small TV on the dresser playing an infomercial. She hears the cough, the thickness—the choking. Samuel has been suffering from emphysema for close to a year, but now he’s bedridden and without a voice. Miriam’s taken on the role of nurse, and clicks the lamp on the side table before grabbing the inhaler.
In front of me now, Miriam closes her eyes, and tears spill onto her cheeks. She thinks back on that night, and I’m there with her.
Miriam turns to her husband, and his eyes lock on hers—pleading and desperate. His look begs her to let him go, to let him finally have peace.
“Don’t you leave me,” Miriam murmurs, her lips quivering with the start of a cry. Samuel, unable to talk, only reaches to take her hand—a hand that held his for forty years—his body shaking with the coughs he tries to hold in.
She has a choice then. Instead of putting the inhaler to his mouth, forcing medication into his lungs, Miriam Kemper curls up next to her husband and feels his arms around her one last time. She cries into the warmth of his nightshirt until his coughing finally subsides. Until all is quiet and his arm falls away.
“Oh, Miriam,” I whisper, feeling the guilt the way she does. The crushing sense of final loss, the shroud of doubt. But beyond that is a message, something I have to tell Miriam—even though it’s not really from me. “It’s what he wanted,” I say, trying to soothe her pain and alleviate her guilt. “He loved you very much.”
I move to put my hand on her shoulder, and she winces as if my touch hurts her.
“I’m all alone,” she weeps. “I can’t make it without my Samuel.”
“You will.” There’s so much energy racing through me, it’s making me dizzy. I want to pull away, but I can’t. Miriam has to listen. If she doesn’t, she’ll die. “Samuel would want you to move on,” I tell her. “To have a life. You have to love him enough to let him go now.”
She’s crying, but suddenly . . . I feel it. She’s listening, accepting what I’ve told her. Miriam knows she has to keep living her life, but her grief had overwhelmed her. This small respite has given her clarity.
Miriam sniffles hard, smoothing back her hair. I lower my arm, and the pain that had built up, the energy, dissolves. I expect Miriam to turn to me, ask what just happened. But before I try to explain, warmth and euphoria spread over me, making me sway on the bench. The hot, searing pain in the back of my neck has faded away. After a moment, I turn to Miriam again. She’s gathered herself, looking as if she’s ready to leave.
“I’m sorry,” I say, worried I’ve frightened her. Miriam casts a confused glance around the street and then seems just to notice me. “Oh, hi, honey,” she says, her voice still thick from crying. “Do you know what time it is?”
Is she not going to ask what’s going on? I’m freaking out, but Miriam doesn’t appear concerned. “Uh,” I fumble, taking a long moment to answer. “It’s about one thirty, I guess.”
Miriam smiles, and reaches to pat my arm. “Well, then I better get home. I think I’ll go see my son in Denver. Tell your mother and father I said hello.” She stands, pulling her purse strap over her shoulder. And then she leaves.
I stare after her, my heart racing. My fingers still tingling. This is the second time this has happened. First with Tanner, now with Miriam. Am I psychic? Am I crazy? Tears well up, and I’m scared. Am I scared enough to tell my parents? What if they don’t believe me? What if they think—
I get up from the bench and run for my car. I turn the ignition, wishing I had a phone. My parents are probably at the bakery with River. Ezra and Soleil are at his house. I don’t know where to go, so I drive back t
o my house. I’ll be alone, and I’m terrified to be alone.
But I’m not crazy.
The minute I get home, I turn on my laptop and begin researching. I type in every symptom, every sensation—but nothing fits exactly. Instead it seems like I could have a million different disorders, diseases. Rather than comfort me, the internet has made me more terrified. I click the laptop shut and start toward my room. My head is foggy, and I won’t let myself cry anymore.
I’m going to sleep this off. When I wake up, I’ll talk to my mom and dad. They’ll know what to do. But I can’t discuss it right now. My body is worn down, exhausted. I climb up on my bed and hug the pillow close to me. When I wake up, it’ll make sense. I know it’ll make sense.
I’m standing in front of the Costas Bakery, but I don’t go inside. I know the doors are locked, even though I can’t remember if I tried the handle. The weather is warm and breezy on my bare legs, and I look down, surprised to see myself wearing a plaid uniform skirt. I don’t own anything like this.
I notice then my reflection in the glass door. It takes me a minute to realize it’s me: the blond hair, the freckles. An entirely different face. I step toward the door, outstretch my hand until I touch the glass, surprised it’s cold despite the warm air. I trace her . . . my features. She’s so familiar, but her image fills me with despair. Loneliness. Behind my reflection I notice him, watching sadly as he waits.
“Harlin,” I call softly, my heart swelling at the sight of him. I love him. I feel it in my soul. I love Harlin more than anything in the world. But the reflection is beginning to fade, and I bang my hand on the glass, devastated at the thought of losing him again.
“Don’t wake up,” I tell myself. “Please don’t wake up.”
I gasp awake, the light outside the window set at dusk. For a moment, I can still see Harlin, still remember my face. But as I sit up, turn on my light—the dream slips away, leaving only a vague sense of loneliness. The house is still quiet when I walk out into the living room, and I’m perplexed as to where my family is. We don’t have a house phone, haven’t needed it since we all have cell phones. Or at least we did.
A Desire So Deadly (a need so beautiful ) Page 4
