by Beth Andrews
Now that Ellen was gone, and a place had opened up.
The wind rose, tickling her hair into her face, and her eyes stung even worse. She swallowed three times, trying to loosen that tight feeling in her throat, and then clicked on her Facebook app. Maybe she should just post the picture there, so everyone could see.
But Facebook made her feel worse. Her news feed was full of pictures Stephanie and the gang had just taken at the mall, where they’d gone to see a movie. “Less than a minute ago” they’d been horsing around at the Organic Highway counter at the food court. Laughing, throwing stuff at each other, making funny faces.
And, look at that shot! Becky stood so close to Gregory Parr the whole world could see she had a crush on him.
Well, Gregory Parr was the cutest guy in school. Ellen had a graph in her diary tracking how long it would take her to lose fifteen pounds, and what she’d do then to make Greg notice her.
Except for Stephanie, who had been held back in first grade and was older than the rest of them, no one in their group had a boyfriend. Not outright. But everyone knew who liked who, and everybody knew you didn’t go after the boys your friends had chosen.
But here was Becky, clearly trying to call dibs on Gregory. Ellen’s fury rose. If greasy Becky Fife thought she could just move in and take over every single part of Ellen’s life...her guy, her friends...
Ellen could imagine her dad’s reaction. “Could they really have been friends if they have forgotten about you in a week?”
Could Dad really be that clueless?
Of course they were going to forget her. They hung out together every day, and when you were gone, you were gone. You could hardly expect them to sit around for nine months waiting for you to come back.
Her tears had begun to fall. She reached up and ripped off her left earring angrily. They were only hooked over the edge of her ear, anyhow, because her ears weren’t pierced.
Thanks for that, too, Dad.
She yanked the second one, and the filigreed hoop went flying out of her hand into the tall grass around her.
“Oh, my God. No!” She got on all fours and tried to comb the grass, praying to see the winking gold. “No!”
A sudden rustling in the tree overhead startled her. She felt a spasm of fear and froze in place. No bird could possibly be that big. Not even an eagle. Well, maybe an eagle. What did she know about eagles?
She sniffed, trying to keep her nose from running. She hated hick places like this. It could be anything up there. A snake, or a cougar, or...
“What’s the matter? What are you looking for?”
And abruptly, there he was. A boy, draped over the lowest big branch like the Cheshire cat, his skinny blue jeans and sneakers dangling, his grin and upturned eyes laughing at her.
Suddenly, she was madder than ever. He must have been in the tree the whole time. He’d probably been watching her when she took the picture of herself. Pictures. She’d taken fifteen different shots, trying for one that looked perfect.
She blushed furiously, thinking how she’d smirked at herself in the camera, trying to look happy and cute.
“Who are you?” She lifted onto her knees, fists on her hips. “That’s pretty rude, to spy on people.”
“Hey, now.” The boy swung himself down like a monkey and plopped onto the grass a couple of feet away. “I wasn’t spying. I was sleeping, and when I woke up, you were there, acting weird. I didn’t say anything because I was waiting for you to go away. It’s my tree, after all.”
“It can’t be your tree. This is a school playground. Playgrounds belong to the city, not to people.” But then her curiosity got the better of her. “How can you have been sleeping in a tree? Isn’t that dangerous?”
The boy dusted off his hands. “Not if you know how.” His grin broadened, his sunburned face busting out in white teeth, practically from ear to ear. “I know how.”
For a minute, when he smiled, he looked kind of cute. He was a few inches taller than she was, and wiry, like boys were when they had too much energy and never stood still. His hair was blond and thick, and his eyes were a sparkly blue—just about the same color as the sky, now that it was almost evening.
Ellen still thought Greg was cuter, because this guy looked like he might be a hick, with his dirty blue jeans and cowboy boots and flannel shirt with the cuffs rolled back. But he was pretty cute, anyhow. Stephanie would definitely think so. Stephanie had a thing for cowboys.
“So.” The boy took a Tootsie Roll out of his pocket, unwrapped it, and stuffed it into his mouth. As he started to chew, he paused. He let his hand hover over his pocket, looked at her and raised his eyebrows. “Want one?”
She did. Though she hadn’t noticed it before, she was starving. But she thought about the diet chart in her diary. And she thought about how she’d look like a cow, chewing away at the sticky candy. He certainly did, although he obviously didn’t care what she thought. “No, thanks.”
“’K.” He chewed a little more. “So what are you looking for?”
The sudden recollection of her awful mistake shot through her like a hot poker. How could she have been thinking about cute guys, or even her diet, when she’d lost her mother’s earring?
“My earring. It fell off.”
“You yanked it off, you mean.” But the kid didn’t sound judgmental, just factual. He chewed thoughtfully, his gaze scanning the overgrown grass. “What does it look like?”
She held out her hand, opening the palm to show him the match. He walked closer, put his hands on his knees, bent down and studied it without touching, the way he might look at a specimen in science class.
“Is that really yours? It looks kind of grown-up for you.” He tilted his head. “How old are you?”
“I’m eleven,” she said, lifting her chin to look older, and, she hoped, skinnier. “I’m plenty old enough to wear earrings. Why? How old are you?”
He chewed on his lower lip briefly. “I’m ten,” he said.
“What grade?”
“Fourth.”
Oh, man. He was a whole grade below her. She felt stupid for having thought he was cute. No wonder he carried Tootsie Roll candy around in his pocket and didn’t care if he looked ugly chewing a wad of caramel in front of a girl.
“Well, I’m going into fifth,” she said. “And these earrings are definitely mine. My mother gave them to me. It can’t have gone far, but the grass is so high....”
She got back on her knees and started ruffling her palm over the grass, inch by inch. “It’s important.”
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “It’s real,” she said. Then, in case a cowboy kid wouldn’t know what that meant, she added, “like, I mean...real gold.”
He nodded, dropped to his knees and started combing the grass, too. He was working an area much closer to where she’d been sitting, and she suddenly realized that was smarter. The earring wouldn’t have flown this far.
She subtly worked her way back toward him, but her hopes were fading. This was like the old cliché—finding a needle in a haystack. The thatch of golden-brown dead grass below the new growth was almost exactly the same color as the earring.
And it would be dark soon.
“So will your mom be super mad? Will you get in trouble if we don’t find it?”
She glanced over at the boy. It was nice, him saying we like that, as if they were partners in the hunt. He didn’t have to help. He could have walked away and gone home.
“Not trouble from my mom.” She bent her head again. “My mom died. Almost a year ago.”
“Aw. Dang.” The boy paused and looked at her. “I’m sorry about that.”
She didn’t respond. If her eyes got blurry with tears, she wouldn’t have any chance at all of spotting the circle of gold in the grass.
“Got it!” The boy suddenly jumped to his feet, his fist in the air triumphantly.
Relief washed through her. She stood, too, holding out her hand.
He deposited the earring in her palm with a flourish. “There you go!”
It felt cold, from lying on the ground. She closed her fingers, as if to chafe warmth back into it. She looked up at him, so grateful she forgot to play cool.
“Thank you. Thank you so much....”
“Alec.” The boy grinned. “Alec Garwood, rancher, wrangler and part-time treasure hunter.”
She grinned back. She couldn’t help it. She was so happy that she hadn’t lost the only thing her mother had given her directly, with her own hands. And his smile was that kind of smile. The kind you could catch, like a cold.
“I’m Ellen Thorpe. We moved in today. We’re renting the yellow cottage over there.”
“No kidding!” Alec glanced at the cottage. “That’s a cool place. So you’ve just moved here? Where from?”
“We haven’t exactly moved. We’re taking a year off while my dad works on a resort he’s building.” She didn’t feel the need to mention the shoplifting, the bad grades, the arguments with her dad. “It’s more like a long vacation. But I still live in Chicago.”
He frowned, as if he might quarrel with that way of seeing things, but then he shrugged. “Whatever. Anyhow, those are pierced earrings. No wonder you lost them. Why don’t you get your ears pierced, so they won’t fall off?”
She straightened. “Maybe I don’t want to get my ears pierced.”
He looked skeptical about that, too. “All girls want their ears pierced,” he said reasonably. “Oh. I see. You’re scared to?”
“Of course not. It’s just that my dad won’t let me.”
Alec looked confused. “So?”
She stared at him. “What do you mean, so?”
“I mean...so what? How can he stop you?” Alec grinned. “My theory is I’d rather ask forgiveness than permission.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “You didn’t make that line up. That’s famous.”
“I didn’t say I made it up. I said that’s what I do. Grown-ups don’t ever want you to do anything fun. They’re afraid you’ll get hurt.” He sighed. “But you gotta do what you gotta do, you know? If you get in trouble for it, well, whatever. They can’t eat you, right?”
“Um.” She wasn’t sure what the correct answer was to that. Even Stephanie wasn’t this honest about being bad. Stephanie generally pretended she’d misunderstood the rules, or someone else made her do it. For a fraction of a second, Ellen could see that Alec’s honest civil disobedience had a certain nobility to it. “I guess not.”
He pulled out another candy. “Well, anyhow, maybe you’re really just scared. That’s okay. Everybody’s scared of something. But if you wanted me to, I could pierce them for you sometime.”
Again, she was speechless. Again, even Stephanie...
It suddenly struck Ellen as kind of ironic that her dad had brought her here to get her away from Stephanie’s “bad influence,” and the first person she met was this troublemaker who casually assumed all rules were made to be broken.
“I—” She squeezed the earrings. This was ridiculous. She wasn’t used to being tongue-tied. She always had a comeback. That was why Stephanie had invited her into the group. Stephanie admired people who were chill and sarcastic. “I—”
But then, luckily, she spotted her dad walking toward them across the playground.
“That’s my father,” she said. “I gotta go.”
She moved quickly, hoping she’d meet her dad halfway. She didn’t want him to see Alec. He would be impossible about it. He’d probably say a hundred times, “Isn’t it great that you’ve made a friend already?”
He wouldn’t see that Alec’s being in fourth grade made it impossible for them to be friends.
But after a few yards, she realized it sort of stunk to ditch Alec that way, after he’d been so nice about helping.
She turned. “Thanks ag—”
Alec had already disappeared. She glanced up into the tree, but not a single branch was swaying.
He was just plain gone. She wondered how he did it. He might be only ten, but he was...interesting. Kind of cool. Though not in any way her Chicago friends would understand.
She repeated his name in her head, so she’d remember it. Alec Garwood. Cowboy, wrangler, treasure hunter...and, apparently, ninja.
* * *
BY TEN O’CLOCK, Penny had done everything she could—at least until the furniture arrived in the morning. It had taken her a couple of hours to shoo away the family, and then she’d emptied the car, hung up her clothes, washed the dishes and investigated every closet, cabinet and cupboard the tiny space had to offer.
After that, as darkness settled over Silverdell like indigo watercolor applied with a thick brush, she grew restless.
It had been seventeen years since she’d moved to a new house—and all of a sudden, though she was exhausted, she couldn’t imagine settling down.
The blow-up mattress was ready on the floor, but even with all the extra pillows and blankets Bree and Ro had scattered around, it looked completely uninviting. She’d have to be a lot more tired before she crawled in there.
She stepped onto the back deck, where she could hear the subtle burble of the creek. Though only a few inches deep, it moved quickly. Through the aspen branches, starlight winked like broken crystal on its ripples.
Gradually, she felt herself relaxing into the familiar scents and sounds of a crisp Colorado night. It was comforting to realize that this tiny tributary, which probably would dry up entirely once winter came, was an offshoot of Bell River. The silver thread of the river bound her to her sisters, but with enough room between for Penny to breathe.
“Long day, wasn’t it?”
She whirled at the sound of Max Thorpe’s voice coming from his deck, which was separated from hers only by an artificial railing. Back when the house had been one residence, this must have been one deck.
He stood at the far corner, leaning against the wooden balustrade, as if he’d been watching the creek, too. The night was fairly clear, with a bright moon, and only about fifteen feet of cedarwood planks lay between them, so she could tell he was smiling.
“Very long.” She walked over to the center rail so that she didn’t have to talk loudly. The backyard led only to the creek, and then to a small grove that bordered the elementary school playground, but she did have neighbors on either side, and she didn’t know whether they considered 10:00 p.m. late or not.
She glanced around his deck and saw that he was alone. “I hope everything in the house is...”
She didn’t want to say satisfactory. That sounded so stilted. But she didn’t know landlady vocabulary yet. “Is set up the way you like it. Jenny—she’s the real estate agent—promised she’d have it ready, but I know you arrived a little early, so...”
“Everything’s terrific,” he said. “Considering we gave her almost no warning, it’s fantastic.”
She hoped he didn’t think she was complaining that he’d come ahead of schedule. She could use extra rent, even a week’s worth, to help defray costs. Ruth’s town house had brought a decent price, but most of that was set aside to contribute to the Bell River expansion. The rest was in savings, for the day when she could open her studio.
She was determined to support herself. If she could figure out exactly how that would be done....
“Jenny has been Silverdell’s real estate agent since the Gold Rush,” she said, smiling. “In fact, I bought this place sight unseen. On just Jenny’s word and half a dozen ‘virtual-tour’ photos she’d uploaded on to her site.”
She was babbling. What did he care how she’d decided to buy the duplex? But she wanted very muc
h to be on relaxed terms with her tenant—even if she had made relaxed almost impossible with that impulsive kiss this morning.
She should have known word would get back to Bell River. She felt terrible about how peculiar everyone had acted toward him. Rowena had given Max the evil eye so hard that, if he’d been a less confident man, he would have turned to stone.
“Well, she did a great job. We’ve got everything we could possibly need. In fact, we could probably loan you anything you don’t have yet.” He glanced toward her side, where the curtainless windows exposed the empty rooms. “I’m surprised you’re staying here tonight.”
“I remember thinking it would be fun,” she said ruefully. “Like camping out. Instead, it’s kind of...strange.”
Actually, it was more than strange. It felt painfully rootless—like being a vagrant who belonged nowhere.
“I got the feeling your sisters would have liked you to stay with them. I’m sure they’d still be glad to see you, if you changed your mind.”
He didn’t make any reference to how suspicious they’d been of him, which she appreciated.
“They’re terribly protective,” she said, wondering how to approach the subject, herself.
She hadn’t forgotten she owed him an explanation for that kiss. But how much should she reveal? People often felt self-conscious after they found out Penny’s father was a convicted murderer. Or even nervous, as if she could inherit the madness. When she clarified that her father’s violence had probably been the result of a brain tumor, they rarely seemed reassured.
And why should they be? Even Johnny Wright’s daughters had always carried that doubt inside. What if it wasn’t all caused by the brain tumor? What if he was insane? What did that make them?
“Our family...well, things were rocky at home, to say the least. I was the youngest, and Rowena and Bree got in the habit of taking care of me. It’s going to be a while before they can create new patterns.”
He nodded. “I suppose it’s not easy for you, either.”
She lifted her chin. Did she seem lonely? Afraid? She wasn’t. Not one bit. She fought the urge to tell him how she’d single-handedly fought off an intruder with a can of wasp spray.
