The Shadow Girl

by Jennifer Archer

  “He’s just working here for another few days, Lily. I doubt he’ll get tired of the Blue Spirit Inn,” says Mom wearily. “Besides, he could bring his lunch. Maybe he did.”

  “I’ll go check.” Deserting the tomato I was slicing—and Mom’s scowl—I hurry toward the door.

  Ty is leaning against his car eating a strip of beef jerky. A folded red bandanna is tied around his forehead, to keep his hair out of his eyes while he works. “Hey,” I call to him from the porch.

  “There you are,” he says, a wide smile spreading across his face. “I thought maybe you were allergic to sunshine or something.”

  “Schoolwork,” I say. “Greek philosophy. Plato is kicking my butt.”

  Ty tilts his head to one side. “‘He is unworthy of the name of man who is ignorant of the fact that the diagonal of a square is incommensurable with its side.’”

  “Impressive. Maybe I should hire you as a tutor.” I’m only half teasing when I add, “What do you charge?”

  “I’d do it for free,” he says.

  I fall into his gaze and wish I could stay there forever, lost in all that soft, dark heat. Blushing, I open the screen door wider and glance down at the strip of beef jerky in his hand. “That’s not much of a lunch.”

  “Don’t knock it till you try it. It’s not bad, but you might lose a tooth.”

  Grinning, I ask, “Do you like ham and Swiss? Mom and I are making sandwiches. We can eat on the deck since it’s warm out.”

  Ty pushes away from the car. “Sure.”

  Five minutes later, I bring a tray filled with sandwiches, potato chips, and soft drinks out to the deck where Mom and Ty are already sitting at the patio table.

  Ty stands abruptly to help, his knuckles bumping against mine as he reaches for the tray. We smile at each other as he sits in the chair across the table from Mom and I sit beside her.

  “Looks like you’re making good progress on the roof, Ty,” Mom says.

  “I should finish the middle of next week at the latest.”

  “That long?” She frowns. “Seems like you’re moving faster than that.”

  “He’s just one person, Mom,” I say in his defense.

  “I want to do a good job for you, Mrs. Winston,” says Ty, adding, “You’re short on a few supplies. If it’s okay, I’ll quit early this afternoon and go to the hardware store.”

  Mom takes a soft drink off the tray. “Whatever you need to do. The weather is supposed to stay dry for a while, so I guess there’s no real hurry. Adam had an account there. Just have them call if they need an okay.”

  He nods at Mom, saying, “This looks great,” when I hand him his plate.

  Mom opens the potato chip bag and shakes out a few. “I thought we might go into town, too, Lily. I’m in the mood for a movie. We could rent one and watch it tonight.”

  “Okay.” I nibble on a crust of bread, encouraged that she wants to do something besides hide in the workshop or sleep.

  She lifts her sandwich, then lays it down again and pushes her plate aside. She’s hardly eaten in the past couple of days. “What do you say we rent that romantic comedy you used to love so much? Gosh, I can’t remember the title. It was your favorite when you were thirteen or so. You watched it so much I’m surprised you don’t have every line memorized.”

  Drawing a blank, I say, “I guess I’ve forgotten it.”

  “Forgotten it?” She sends me a disbelieving frown, and I notice for the first time how bloodshot and puffy her eyes are. “How? You almost wore out the VCR you watched that tape so often.”

  Tape? VCR? What is she talking about?

  Anxious to change the subject, I turn my attention to Ty. “How is it that you can quote Plato? Are you a philosophy major?”

  “No, biology.”

  “Lily was obsessed with that young actor in the movie,” Mom says to him, as if she didn’t hear us. Her brows shoot up, and she snaps her fingers. “John Cusack. Say Anything! That’s it. He won an award for his role a few years ago. Most promising new actor or something like that.”

  Iris flutters, tremulous and fleeting, as if she senses the tension building.

  “Mom, John Cusack isn’t young. He’s been around forever,” I murmur, embarrassed by her insistence that I remember some film that I’m sure I’ve never seen. “I don’t remember that movie at all.”

  “Good grief, Lily, how can you say—” Mom breaks off, her face going slack, paling. “Never mind. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Biting into her sandwich, she stares off into the trees beyond the deck.

  I can’t bring myself to look at Ty. If Mom had to wig out, why couldn’t she have waited until he was gone? He starts making small talk about the weather, about how beautiful Colorado is and how much he’s enjoying his time here. Filling the silence. Smoothing the ragged edges of strain between Mom and me. Just like Dad used to do.

  After a few minutes, Mom pushes away from the table and stands. “Another soft drink?” she asks us.

  Ty and I both decline, and she walks around the corner onto the porch. I hear the front door open and slam as she goes inside.

  “Make an excuse so you don’t have to go to town with her,” Ty says, speaking quickly.

  “What?” I sit straighter.

  “Drive your four-wheeler to the lake. Meet me there.”

  His sudden invitation zings a thrill straight through me, all the way to my toes. “She’ll see your car parked there when she goes to get the movie.”

  “So she does care if you spend time with me.” His mouth curves up.

  “You’ve noticed?” I say sarcastically. I start to tell him to meet me at Ponderosa Pond instead of the lake. It’s secluded, tucked away in a grove of trees that surround it completely. But it’s also been Wyatt’s and my secret place ever since we were kids, and I don’t feel right about meeting Ty there. What if Wyatt showed up? “Do you know where the springhouse is?” I ask Ty, determined to find the perfect place.

  “Yeah, I’ve seen it off the road by the lake.”

  “Park behind it,” I say, hardly able to believe this is happening. “You’ll see a footpath. Follow it past the waterfall. You’ll come to a little clearing.”

  “Okay. I’ll wait for you there.”

  Listening for the sound of the front door opening, I ask, “What time?”

  “Two thirty?”

  “If I can, I’ll be there,” I say, knowing I’ll find a way to go, no matter what. There’s no possibility I’ll pass up this chance to be with him.

  The front door slams. Ty and I smile at each other, then look away as Mom rounds the corner.

  Mom decides not to go into town after all. She says she’s tired and just wants to take a nap. I’m worried about her, but not so much that I don’t rush out the door the second I hear her snoring. I push my four-wheeler to the road so I won’t wake her when I start it.

  For the first time since I was twelve and got into trouble for not wearing a helmet, I forget to put one on. Wind tugs wisps of hair from my ponytail and whips them about my head as I speed along the road. I’m not sure if it’s the cool air or the thought of seeing Ty that raises goose bumps on my skin. It’s not even two o’clock, and I told him to meet me at two thirty. I think I’ll get to the springhouse before him and surprise him, but instead he surprises me. His car is already parked behind it when I arrive. I pull up next to it and cut my engine, then walk the narrow rocky pathway that crosses beneath a small waterfall.

  When I reach the clearing, I see Ty throwing rocks across the creek, his back to me. I pause in the shelter of the trees to watch him. It’s as if he’s trying to torture the opposite bank, pummeling it with stones in rapid succession, bruising the sodden carpet of moss, the fallen leaves.

  After a few seconds, he stops chunking rocks and sits down on a boulder at the creek’s edge, his forearms crossing his knees. He’s not wearing the bandanna now, and as he stares into the trickling water, his hair falls over his forehead, gleaming in the sun. He
seems so lost in thought that I almost don’t want to disturb him. But the wind does it for me. A gust rushes past me, clattering the tree limbs above.

  Ty turns as if startled by the sound, and when he spots me his face lights up and he grins. “Hey!” He pushes to his feet. “You’re early.”

  Starting toward him, I say, “So are you.”

  He reaches out a hand and helps me across the uneven jumble of rocks in the gulley and over to the edge of the burbling creek. “I was afraid you might not come.”

  “Mom decided to take a nap instead of going into town so I was able to sneak out.” I realize that I’m still gripping his hand, and drop it, although I don’t want to. “You have any trouble finding this place?”

  “Not at all. It’s an amazing spot. Isolated.” His eyes meet mine.

  “Not always. The bears like it.” I point out the green plants flanking both sides of the slender stream and poking up between low-lying, slick gray boulders. “This is a raspberry patch. By mid-August it’ll be thick with fruit. More than enough for the bears and us, too.”

  “I doubt the bears would be happy to share,” Ty says with a laugh.

  “You just have to hold your ground. Stare them down.”

  He squints at me, his amused expression doing crazy things to my insides. “You’ve done that?” he asks, tilting his head to one side.

  “Yeah. A black bear came up on me here a couple of years ago. I figured she could run faster over rocks than I could, so I just stayed put and glared at her with my mouth stuffed with raspberries.”

  “What happened?”

  “She eventually took off, and I threw up.”

  He leans his head back and laughs.

  I laugh, too, then go quiet. “I guess you must think it’s ridiculous that I have to sneak off to meet up with you.”

  “Not ridiculous.” Ty crouches and dips his hand into the stream, letting the water flow through his fingers. “Maybe a little old-fashioned, but that’s cool. It just shows that your mom cares about you.”

  “I guess. What about your parents? Are they strict?” I cringe inside. Stupid question. He’s traveling alone. How strict could they be?

  “They probably aren’t strict enough,” Ty says, as if reading my thoughts. He picks up a stone and tosses it across the stream, lightly this time, but I detect a hint of tension in his shoulders and his words. Sitting down on the boulder, he says, “Come on,” then gestures to the space at his side.

  Hoping he can’t tell how jittery I am, I plop down next to him and grip my knees, fighting the urge to touch his hair and find out if it’s as soft as it looks.

  Ty begins unlacing his boots.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, sending him a suspicious look.

  Tugging the boots off, he sets them aside, strips off his socks, and rolls up the legs of his jeans, then lowers his feet into the creek.

  “Are you nuts? That water’s freezing!” I say.

  “It feels good. Come on. You should try it.” He grins. “Do something crazy for a change.”

  “Please. I’m the queen of crazy. Once I dunked my entire head in the creek in November on a dare.”

  “Who dared you?”

  “Wyatt.”

  “Ah,” he says in a tone that seems to imply he has Wyatt figured out. “The guy who gave me the evil eye the entire time we were talking at your Dad’s memorial.”

  “Wyatt gave you the evil eye?”

  “Blond hair? Skinny?”

  “That’s him. I’m sure he didn’t mean anything. He’s just protective. We’re best friends.”

  Ty’s brows lift. “Best friends, huh?”

  “Yeah.” Wyatt’s expression after we kissed flashes through my mind, and my body tenses with guilt. I have a feeling he’d be hurt if he knew I was flirting with Ty. “Wyatt and I have been best friends since we were this tall,” I say, raising my hand four feet off the ground.

  Ty shoves his hair back from his eyes, then looks down at his toes in the water. So do I. The sight of his long, bony feet unsettles me in a way that I like.

  “So, should I be afraid of him?” he asks, his head still down.

  “Who? Wyatt?”

  “You said he’s protective of you.” He slides me a teasing look. “I just thought he might try to protect you from me.”

  I’m not sure I want to be protected from him, but I give Ty a playful shove and say, “I can take care of myself.” I duck my head, embarrassed and too aware of him, and when I look up again he’s watching me with an amused look that blows every rational thought right out of my mind. “What?” I say, then dip my hand into the water, scoop some up, and splash him with it.

  “Hey!” he shouts, laughing and shaking droplets from his hair. “If you’re so tough, why are you afraid of putting your feet in a little cold water?”

  “I’m not afraid, I’m smart.”

  He smirks. “I’m not buying it.”

  Sighing, I remove my boots, peel off my socks, and roll my jeans up my calves, like he did. I lower one foot into the creek beside his and squeal as the shock of cold rushes up my leg. I try to yank my foot out, but Ty gently presses his hand on my knee.

  “Count to ten and it won’t feel so cold anymore. I promise.”

  I grit my teeth, stick my other foot in the water, gasp, and start counting.

  “Was I right?” he asks when I reach ten and I’m no longer shuddering.

  “I have a feeling you always are,” I say, heaping on the sarcasm.

  “I am.” Reaching up, he tugs my ponytail gently and grins. “Don’t forget that.”

  Silence blooms in the space between us, as thick as the spring wildflowers crowding the edge of the creek. I’m amazed that after everything that’s happened in my life recently, I can feel this good. My pulse ricochets as I ask him, “Have you always lived in the Northeast?”

  “Yep. Eighteen years.”

  “That explains the accent.”

  “It’s that obvious, huh?” He cocks his head. “You should be used to it. I catch a hint of Yankee in your mom’s accent, too.”

  “That’s weird.” I slide my toe along the slick, wet surface of a mossy stone. “Mom was born and raised in Colorado. Dad, too.”

  Ty searches my face, his narrowed eyes touching each feature, forehead to chin. “I guess I imagined it,” he says quietly.

  Shaken by the intimate way he looked at me, I grasp frantically for something to say to keep the conversation going. I finally settle on school and ask, “What’s Columbia like?”

  “Fun. Busy. New York has an energy like no place else.”

  “I’d like to go there sometime. I’ve never been anywhere, really. Besides Colorado, the only state I remember visiting is New Mexico.” My strange snatches of memory surrounding the lake and dock in Winterhaven come to mind, and I add, “And I’m pretty sure my parents and I went to Massachusetts when I was really small. A town called Winterhaven, but I don’t remember much about it.”

  “Winterhaven’s near Boston,” Ty says. He tosses another pebble into the water, creating ripples around our feet. “Do you have family there?”

  “No, my grandparents died before I was born, and Mom and Dad are both only children. Do you have a big family?”

  “Big enough. Four grandparents and a slew of aunts, uncles, and cousins.”

  “And your parents and a brother, right?”

  “Yeah. Kyle.” Ty tugs a weed from between the rocks, watching his fingers as he twists the stem into a knot. “Kyle would love it here. He’s crazy about mountains. His goal is to climb all the fourteeners in the United States before he’s thirty.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Thirteen.”

  I laugh. “So he has plenty of time.”

  His fingers still, and it’s almost as if he stops breathing. Certain I said something to upset him, I open my mouth to ask what’s wrong. But before I can, Ty looks up at me, smiles, and says, “We climbed our first one last year. Mount Muir in the Sie
rra Nevada Range in California. My parents took us. Kyle kicked my butt. He’s a natural.”

  I notice the tattoo on his arm and realize it’s the outline of a mountain range with three spiked pinnacles. The date stenciled beneath it is August of last year. I stroke my fingertips across it, the contact spreading a tingle up my arm. “Is this Mount Muir?”

  “Yeah.” He gives a short laugh. “I thought about getting a tattoo of each mountain I climb, but I’d be covered from head to toe if Kyle has his way, so maybe I’ll just stick to this one.”

  Relieved that whatever happened to upset him a moment ago has passed, I say, “You should bring your brother here to climb the west peak. It’s almost a fourteener.”

  “I’d like to,” says Ty. “Maybe I’ll climb it first, though. While I’m here. I’ve been planning to.”

  “I can take you up if you want.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “I’ve climbed it at least a dozen times.” Reaching for my boots, I say, “You want to go for a walk? I should start home soon, but I could show you around a little first.”

  “Sure.” Ty stands up in the water, but then he grabs my boots from my hand and tosses them back onto the bank. Before I can figure out what he’s up to, he takes hold of my arm and pulls me up so that I’m standing in the creek, too close to him. I tilt my head back, look up into his face.

  “I owe you something,” he says, pointing to his hair, which is still damp from when I splashed him earlier.

  I pull back, but he snags my hand. I squint at him. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Wouldn’t I?” Ty grins.

  “Don’t even think about it!” I shout, giggling and trying to squirm free. “You’ll be sorry. I mean it!”

  “Ooh, I’m afraid!” he says in a shrill, teasing voice, mocking mine. “Make me an offer I can’t refuse and maybe I’ll reconsider.”

  “I’ll make your lunch again tomorrow,” I say, backing away from him. But he holds tight to my hand until our arms are stretched out as far as they’ll go between us, and I can’t move another inch.

  “My lunch?” He gives an exaggerated frown and slumps his shoulders. “That’s not the offer I was hoping for, but your sandwiches aren’t bad, so I guess I’ll let you off the hook.” He drops my hand.