by Becky Wicks
As the woman croaked out questions for her husband, who it emerged had passed on three months ago from throat cancer, Ella pulled Oscar’s arm towards her, focusing as she took it, on the scar along the side of his left hand and remembering with a surge of love the day he’d got it.
It had been late summer three years ago that Oscar had finally told Ella how he felt about her. Or showed her with more than a key to wear. It had happened by accident, really.
They’d been sitting on the grass, watching the tourists huffing and puffing and snapping with their cameras along the well-worn Chilkoot Trail. Ella had been swatting mosquitos in the air, slapping them as they landed on her bare legs amongst the alpine tundra and he’d been telling her a story about the black bear who’d attacked a hiker in the same area just a week before.
‘No way, bears don’t come onto this trail!’ she’d said, scrunching up her nose, causing her brow to furrow and the crease he’d always adored to appear above the bridge of her nose.
‘Sure they do. They’re all over this place,’ he’d countered, gesturing far and wide to the willows, the alders and colorful cottonwoods carpeting the adjacent hillsides. It seemed so peaceful, so beautiful. And so unlikely as the scene of a bear mauling.
They’d grown up catching the bus to the trail and had secured their own special place beneath the ever-changing branches of a white spruce. Years before, Oscar’s dad had told them they were only ever to walk as far as that tree, so its grassy floor became a seat on which they’d sit and share their chips, their chewing gum and eventually, stretches of silence that could have been a sign of comfortable companionship, or nerves at recognizing in each other all that they had never been able to see in anyone else.
‘You know how hard bears squeeze you, when they go in for the attack?’ Oscar had said, and Ella shook her head right before he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her so tightly that her ribs hurt.
‘Oooow, stop it Oscar!’ she’d complained, batting him away like a giant mosquito and struggling to stand up. But he’d caught her ankle and wrapped his arms around her knees instead. She kicked out, not so hard that she would hurt him, his skin on her skin once again sending shivers through her body; thrills that she’d been trying to ignore for months.
Two hikers walked past, grinning at the teenage boy and girl play-fighting in the sunshine. But they never saw the way Oscar pulled her back down to the ground, pretended to bite her neck, her arms, her stomach, her chin, her lips.
They never saw how Ella’s squeals turned to whimpers, then to silence as his bites turned to nibbles, and pecks and nervous fingers tracing lines on warm flesh. They never saw the way Oscar stopped and studied her face, the pink of her cheeks, the sheen of strawberry chapstick coating her smile. And they were long gone, around the corner when Ella and Oscar melted into their first ever kiss.
They stayed there for hours beneath the tree that had witnessed everything, afraid that if they left its shadows, the spell binding them together would be broken.
Eventually, at almost nine p.m and with the Alaskan sun still burning white in the sky, Oscar had pulled her to her feet. Partly to banish any lingering awkwardness and partly to show enthusiasm for their newfound closeness he’d raised his arms in the air and jumped for a low hanging branch, intending to swing on it and make her laugh.
Instead, the thin branch had snapped, sending another straight into the side of his hand. He’d had to make the journey home with his T-shirt wrapped tight around the wound and at the hospital the next morning he’d had four stitches, grinning the whole time and too high on Ella’s kisses to care.
Ella saw the scar as marking the start of their days as boyfriend and girlfriend. In a funny way, Oscar himself was glad of it. He’d said it branded him hers forever, as no other girl would ever put up with such an idiot. Ella had her suspicions. She could think of a number of girls who would take her idiot, should he make himself available. But their caterpillars kept on turning into butterflies and though they didn’t always realize it themselves, to everyone else, Ella and Oscar were unbreakable.
5
There was an empty seat next to Ella’s mom. ‘You should go over there,’ Oscar whispered, pulling her out of her reverie. Low voices were murmuring their thoughts around the room. ‘See if whatever’s in your house comes to you and your mom.’
She turned to him, ‘I thought you didn’t believe in all this,’ she mouthed, raising an eyebrow. But Oscar was releasing her fingers, pushing her, forcing her to stand. Sighing, Ella put her hat on her chair and tiptoed to the front of the room. But as she reached the edge of the second row, she saw that someone else was now sitting in the empty seat.
The guy they’d seen when they’d first come in; the one in the Soccer Alaska baseball cap was slouching forwards in the chair with his head in his hands, rocking on the wooden legs, seeming not to hear as the psychic continued to explain the whereabouts of a key to a gun cabinet in the pain in the neck’s house.
A sense of uneasiness washed over her as she stood on the spot, watching the guy shake his head, lost in his own world. Her mom was politely ignoring him, focused on the lady acknowledging that yes, there could almost definitely be space for a key behind an old, hanging photo of a horse.
Suddenly, Damien held his hand up, silencing the woman immediately. He turned his head again, doing the pointy chin thing and walking slowly towards the guy in the cap.
‘Who’s sorry?’ he said. ‘And what for?’
‘I am,’ Soccer Alaska said suddenly, jumping to his feet to face him. ‘I didn’t mean for it to happen, I didn’t even mean to be out that night...’
Next to him, Ella’s mom and Oscar’s dad were staring wide-eyed at Damien, now hovering in front of them, eyes darting around the room, landing every now and then on Ella.
‘What’s going on?’
Ella jumped and turned to find Oscar at her side again. She breathed a grateful sigh of relief.
‘Tell them I’m sorry, please. I had… I was going too fast. I’m paying for it, I’m…’
‘Mom, what’s he talking about?’ Ella asked then, feeling her heart pounding staccato against her ribs. Damien turned towards her as she spoke. ‘Mom,’ Ella said again, stepping forwards to the end of their row, ‘Bryan, do you know this guy?’
But her mom’s eyes were fixed on the psychic.
‘Who’s Bryan?’ Damien asked then. And Oscar’s dad raised his head suddenly, his eyes round as dinner plates.
‘I am,’
‘Who is this guy, dad?’ Oscar implored from behind Ella, but as no one turned around to answer them a lightning bolt of panic jolted through him. He reached for Ella’s waist, just as Damien turned his head in their direction.
‘What’s your name?’ the psychic asked, looking straight at him.
‘Oscar!’
‘Oscar,’ he repeated, and both Ella’s mom and Bryan seemed to double over in their chairs. Tears were streaming down their cheeks as they grasped at each other’s arms and Ella, her head spinning, sank the length of Oscar to the floor. Flashbacks hit her hard and fast as images span and the threads of her being unspooled, like horses from a merry-go-round flying off, crashing and colliding into one another, burying her in a pile of pieces against a wall. She struggled for air. Pain, sharp and stabbing, everywhere.
‘Ella!’ Oscar cried out, reaching down to pull her up. ‘Get up!’
‘Who’s Ella?’ Damien said then, and Oscar froze as a sob from his father echoed out around the room.
Bryan stood up shakily. ‘They were our kids,’ he said, rubbing a trembling hand across his mouth and nose just as Ella’s mom let out a small moan from beside him. ‘They’re here, aren’t they?’
‘Yes, they’re here,’ Damien confirmed, looking over at Oscar now sinking, arms reaching out, holding Ella against him on the hardwood floor. ‘They’re together,’
‘They were always together,’ Bryan said, his voice unsteady.
Oscar looked over
Ella’s head at the crowd of people all watching their parents and holding their breath. It wasn’t possible. Was it?
6
‘The car,’ Ella lifted her panicked face from the folds of Oscar’s shirt.
‘What?’
‘I remember,’ she said in a whisper, paling in his stare. ‘I remember!’
‘What do you remember?’
Damien was walking towards them, his eyes flitting over them and beyond them. The guy in the Soccer Alaska cap was following close behind. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he told them, and then repeated it to Damien. ‘I’m so, so sorry,’
His voice was breaking. He was wracking his hands again in front of him. He took his hat off, revealing wild, sandy brown hair and dark, half moon shadows beneath his eyes.
‘Sorry for what?’ Oscar demanded, holding Ella’s trembling head against his chest as she buried her face again. ‘What car? What is she talking about?’
‘It was a car accident, in the snow. There are three people here now,’ Damien said suddenly. He was standing right next to Soccer Alaska, now. ‘The driver’s here, he keeps saying over and over again that he’s sorry. He feels worse about killing your son and daughter than being dead himself. He wants you to know he’s paying for it. He's suffering guilt and shame…’
The world fell away from Oscar. He heard nothing but his own breath as the psychic continued, a fierce tide rushing in and out, until Ella wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed him harder than the bear hug he’d given her that time on the trail. The feel of her body, so solid and real gave him a sudden burst of strength.
‘Stand up,’ he told her then, into her hair. He grabbed the sides of her face and forced her to look at him, ‘Stand up!’
‘We’re dead, Oscar,’ she said. She met his eyes and they seemed to glaze over in an instant. A gash appeared on his forehead, deep and oozing blood. She screamed, springing up and away from him, almost tripping.
‘Are they OK?’ Ella’s mom said and Ella spun to face her, struggling to catch her breath.
‘I’m here, mom, I’m here!’ But as she said it, she caught a flash of crimson in the corner of her eye. Her leg was bleeding. Blood was pouring from her own head, spilling down her face. It was dripping onto the floor as though her body was a tap that someone had forgotten to turn off. Oscar reached her.
‘They’re together, but sometimes when a life is taken too quickly, a spirit doesn’t know it’s dead. I don’t think they realized,’ Damien said, ‘either of them.’
The driver was backing away now, holding up his hands in apology as the wounds on Ella and Oscar seemed to bring out his own. Blood was pouring from him too; his chin, his eyes, his hands. A river of scarlet was coursing slowly along his Soccer Alaska hat, now back on his head, working its way into the fabric like fingers of an evil hand. In the third row, the little girl was holding her Woody doll against her chest, staring at the scene in wonder. Beside her, her mom was sniffing.
A chair scraped at the back of the room. ‘All of this has been in the news!’ a guy shouted out. ‘You could have got all this from the paper!’
Oscar’s dad turned to him, fury in his eyes, but before he could say anything Damien was holding up his hand, requesting silence.
‘Ella’s been showing me a scar,’ he said, softly, directing his words only to their parents. ‘On the boy’s hand. Something about a tree, is that right?’
Their parents both gasped.
‘He’s picking up our thoughts,’ Ella told Oscar, willing herself not to look at the blood on her boyfriend’s beautiful face. She turned to Damien, willed herself to think of happy things. The frozen turkey games. Their first kiss. The key she wore. The songs they’d played during the winds in Oscar’s bedroom, the Northern Lights, what she’d worn for the party…
The party.
Oh, God.
It was the first day of the snow. It had been snowing all day. Her mom had warned her not to go out, that the roads would be dangerous as they were still in the process of being gritted, but Ella had bought her dress just two days before and there was no way she wasn’t wearing it.
Oscar had driven them to the party just nine blocks away from her house and they’d run together into the building, him holding an umbrella over her to stop her ruining her hair. The party was warm and filled with all their friends. They didn’t drink too much; she danced and twirled with the girls in the living room and Oscar watched her, stealing glances as he chatted with the guys. Eventually, he’d pulled her into a corner and cupped her chin, green eyes blazing. He’d whispered,
‘I hate that dress, Tomato. I can’t wait for you to take it off.’
They’d left early, keen as ever to be alone. They made it one, two, three, four blocks before a guy driving way too fast in a pick-up truck sped across the crossroads on a red light. In the blink of an eye, right before he slammed into them at eighty miles an hour and sent their car flipping on the ice and snow, over and over and into a wall, Ella had seen him, eyes huge in terror beneath his Soccer Alaska baseball cap.
She’d gone home. Turned her music on full blast, blocked out the accident as best she could. Her anxious mom had come in several times and turned the tunes off, until they seemed to compromise at an acceptable volume. Oscar would come over. They’d lie on her single bed and hold each other, going over the fact, almost obsessively that they could have been killed if their car had flipped one more time.
It had felt like weeks, Ella thought then. In truth, it had been only a few days. The music she’d been hearing had been her own; the one thing still rooting her to her house and her mother. It had been scaring her, confusing her because somewhere deep inside, she knew she wasn’t supposed to still be playing it. She wasn’t supposed to be here at all.
Unspooling. She was still unspooling.
‘Music,’ Damien said then. ‘She’s been playing her music still, is that right?
‘I’ve been hearing it,’ her mom confirmed, as Bryan rubbed her back consolingly. ‘I go to turn it off but she turns it down before I get there. I’ve been feeling like… like it’s her way of letting me know she’s still here but… God, I thought I was going crazy.’
‘You’re not crazy mom,’ Ella said through her tears, walking towards her, wanting to reach out and touch the broken woman she’d left all alone in their house. Oscar wrapped his arms around her from behind and again, she blocked out the blood. She’d been blocking it out since it happened, she realized, and so had Oscar. They’d been blocking out everything but each other. She could feel him trembling against her back.
‘She was a big fan of yours,’ her mom told Damien, covering Bryan’s hand with her own on her shoulder. ‘She’s been to see you before, so… I thought if anyone was going to reach her, it would be you.’
Damien smiled. ‘They’re going to be OK,’ he said. ‘I think the both of them needed to see you, too. I’m feeling the most intense love right now. Would I be right in saying they were kind of… well, intense? Different from other young couples, if you know what I mean?’
Both Bryan and her mom nodded, wiping their eyes.
‘Intense would be right,’ Bryan said.
‘They’ve been friends since they were kids,’ furthered her mom.
‘I feel as though the only thing keeping them here really, is their refusal to leave each other.’ he said. ‘We only see what we want to see, sometimes. Love can blind us.’
Ella turned in Oscars arms, searched his familiar eyes. ‘We can’t stay here,’ she told him firmly, reaching up and brushing his dark hair away from his bloody forehead. He took a deep breath then, reached for the back of her head and kissed her, long and hard, savoring the feel of her and hoping against hope that the forever they’d always insisted they’d share was really waiting for them, somewhere else. ‘I love you,’ he told her, his lips still on hers. ‘I love you, I love you, I love you.’
A tug on his shirt forced him to look down. The little girl in the red boots was gazing up at
him, her big blue eyes moving between him and Ella. ‘Come with me,’ she said, and smiling she spun and skipped towards the door.
Tentatively, fingers entwined, Ella and Oscar turned to follow her.
‘They’re free now,’ Damien said to the entire room, just as they made it to the exit. ‘They’re taking their next step together.’
Oscar exhaled and smiled in spite of himself. ‘You know what?’ he said, looking down at Ella. ‘I was wrong about him.’
The creaking staircase in the mansion led them back outside into the snow. But the evanescent flakes were falling now in bright white sunlight, glistening like promise rings on their fingers, lips and cheeks. Ella stopped and wrapped her arms around Oscar, knowing somehow, beyond all shadow of a doubt that this was not the end.
In the warmth of Oscar’s bear hug, the final caterpillars in her heart and stomach stopped short with their secret cargo. They shed their weight and with a flutter of butterfly wings that had always been born with extra strength, they burst free from their cage and flew away.
THE END
Thanks for reading! I'd love a quick review if you have time. It really helps. Also, if you liked this story and feel like reading my full length novels (with waaaaay more moments to make you go awwww), the Starstruck Series is my set of standalone new adult romances. Read on for more and sign up for my mailing list at https://beckywicks.com/
Before He Was Famous
#1 bestseller from the HarperCollins author of Burqualicious, Balilicious, Latinalicious and Before He Was Gone
One guy, one girl. One in the spotlight. One in the shadows.
Falling in love with your best friend isn’t always a great idea, especially when he’s Noah Lockton - the sexiest, most famous new talent on the planet. When 21-year-old small-town photographer Chloe Campbell is offered the chance of a lifetime - to join her celebrity childhood friend Noah on tour as an exclusive blogger - she’s certain both have put what happened four years ago behind them. But his eyes still burn; his voice is still a jackhammer to her heartstrings; all his songs are about her. Is it possible that that night still haunts them both?
