I picked at my grilled cheese, wondering if I should relay the whole story. I knew I would. Granny had a way of prying things out of me. So I started the story by explaining to Granny who Tiffany was.
Granny listened intently, never interrupting. By the time I was finished, she covered my hand with hers, her fingertips skimming across the back of my hand.
“Do you believe him when he tells you that she kissed him and caught him off-guard?” Granny asked.
I shrugged my shoulders. “I want to. I can’t believe that he would plan something like that when I was just inside the building and he knew I’d be walking out at any moment. But at the same time…he kissed her, Granny.”
“I wish I could wave a magic wand and tell you the right answer, but I can’t. Sometimes you have to go with your gut. If you think there’s truth to what he’s saying, then maybe he deserves a second chance. If you think he’s up to no good like Willie Mason, then you should dump his sorry butt and never look back. But honey, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. If I was a bettin’ woman, I’d bet that Stone loves you, really loves you. But I suppose you know more about what goes on between the two of you, so I guess it’s something you’ll have to decide for yourself. Forgiveness is an essential part of a lasting relationship. Now you have to decide whether Stone is worth forgiving.”
“I don’t know what to do, Granny.”
“Just give it time. If he loves you, then he’ll wait while you’re sorting through this. There will come a moment when everything will click, and you’ll know what you should do.” She patted my hand. “My baby girl’s all grown up.”
“I still need you,” I said, a small smile curving my lips.
“I’m here for you whenever you need me.” She squeezed my hand. “Now eat your sandwich before it gets cold.”
Obeying, I picked the sandwich up and took a bite. Talking to Granny always made me feel better.
Mr. Milton came into the kitchen and kissed Granny on the cheek. He looked at me and smiled, his white hair combed neatly into place. “How’s it going, ladies?” he asked, his voice gravelly with age.
“We were just having a little girl talk,” Granny replied. “Have a seat, and I’ll get your sandwich.”
I was happy that Granny had Mr. Milton, and as I watched them interact, I wondered what my life held for me. Who would I marry? Would I have children?
Graduation was a major stop on my journey into adulthood. I realized that it would be the beginning of grown-up decisions, the kind of decisions that were indicative of where life’s path would lead. I knew that college was in my future and that I would major in marketing. Now all I had to do was figure out whether Stone would be in my future.
Chapter 9
Stone
Monday morning came way too freaking early. To appease my father and to prevent spending another year in high school, I’d stayed up late studying for my final exams. If things went according to plan, I’d graduate in three weeks. I intended to attend the local university, which wasn’t my father’s first choice, but at this point, he was just happy to know that I did plan on going to college. While my father could afford to send me to any college in the country, I knew that I’d never make it into some of his top choices, but mostly, I knew that Dara could never afford to go to college away from home. While she had received some scholarships, they would be just enough to cover her tuition and books. And if Dara was staying on Quail Mountain, I’d be damned if I was going anywhere else.
As I grabbed my backpack and helmet and headed out the door, I wondered if Dara would talk to me today.
It didn’t take me long to get to school, and the ride in the crisp, morning air did wonders for shaking the remnants of sleep from my brain. I pulled into the parking spot beside Dara’s car and rushed into the school, so that I wouldn’t be tardy.
Since Dara was in advanced placement classes and I was taking the bare minimum to graduate, we didn’t have any classes together, and I didn’t get the chance to see her until lunch. As usual, I grabbed us a couple of drinks and some snacks from the vending machines and found her sitting on a bench in the courtyard.
I offered her an orange juice, and she shielded her eyes from the sun and stared at me.
“You do remember that I told you that I didn’t want to see you, right?” she asked.
The pain in her voice made me feel like shit all over again.
“Yeah, I remember.” I stood my ground, watching her facial expressions. “You do remember that you think I’m a sexy beast and that you love me, right?”
“This isn’t funny, Stone.” Her lips thinned as she pursed them together, and she tilted her chin down and stared at the ground.
With both orange juices still in my hands, I sat beside her. “I know, babe.”
We sat in silence. I watched her as she swung her feet back and forth, scraping the toes of her tennis shoes against the sidewalk. She was doing a damn good job of ignoring me.
“It’s just orange juice,” I said, sitting the bottle beside her. “You have an exam this afternoon. You need to keep your energy up.”
Knowing that the school angle would appeal to her, I felt a small victory when she reached for the bottle.
“Dara, I know I screwed up. But believe me when I tell you that I never planned on that to happen. She kissed me, and for a brief moment, I was living in the past. By the time my brain caught up with my lips, it was too late. I couldn’t take it back.
“I know I hurt you, and I’m really, really sorry. I wish I could say that I’d never screw up again, but we both know that I will. But I can promise you that you are the only girl I want and that nothing like that will ever happen again. You know how much Luke means to me, and I promise you on his grave that I will never so much as kiss another girl as long as you and I are together.”
She remained silent, staring at her shoes. Who could blame her? I was an ass, and I’d ruined the one thing that meant the most to me.
Defeated, I set the snacks that I’d bought beside her.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’ll give you some time, but you haven’t heard the last from me. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I won’t let you go that easily. I’ll be waiting for you, and if you need me or want to talk, all you have to do is call me. I want to make mud pies with you, Dara.”
The corners of her mouth tilted up as the silent tears slid down her cheeks. I reached for her chin, and she didn’t stop me. Turning her face toward me, I brushed her tears away with my thumbs, hating like hell that I was the one who put them there. I kissed her on the cheek and walked away.
To leave her sitting there was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. Normally, I would’ve stayed there and tried to cajole her until I’d gotten her to forgive me. But I hoped that she would come to that conclusion on her own. I needed her to love me enough to forgive me. And while I’d always heard the saying that what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, I was pretty damn sure that if Dara didn’t forgive me, it would kill me.
***
By Saturday, I was relieved to have made it through my exams, and I expected to have a decent grade on them. I hadn’t heard from Dara, and I was beginning to wonder if I’d lost her forever. Dylan was due home in a week, and I dreaded the friction that would bring. My life was screwed up enough as it was.
I grabbed Luke’s copy of Frankenstein from my nightstand and flipped it open to my bookmarker, which was a photo of Dara. It was a poor substitute for her, but somehow, it made me feel like she was with me as I read. I thought back to the day she was in my room with me and the way her voice soothed me as she read the words of Mary Shelley.
As much as I hated reading, I refused to let Luke down. Or Dara. I’d let them both down enough, already.
It was hours later when I put the book down again, mere pages from the finish. The early afternoon sun filtered through my window, and my bike was calling me. Mike had phoned earlier, but I had ignored him. I’m sure he’d be
willing to go for a ride, but what I really wanted was time to myself. It had been days since I had talked to Dara, and I was in need of something drastic to get her attention. She wasn’t one to dwell on material possessions, and the only thing that I knew that she really wanted was to see her mother. And I wanted to give it to her as her graduation present from me.
As I thought about how I would accomplish that, I realized that I didn’t know where her mother was and I didn’t know if her mother would want to see Dara. Both variables were potential monkey wrenches to wreak havoc on my plan. But I also knew that if I could pull it off, maybe, just maybe, it would help make up for the pain that I’d caused her.
I picked up my phone and attempted to make the call that I never completed thanks to Tiffany. I dialed Jess’s brother, Drew Eldridge.
Relief flowed through me when he picked up.
“Hey, Drew. It’s Stone Hamilton.”
“Stone,” he said, “what’s going on, buddy?”
“Not much. Jess told me you were working in Oakley.”
“Yeah. Hopefully not for much longer, but I’ve been here for about seven months now.”
“Listen, I was looking for somebody. Her name is Yvonne Golding. Have you ever heard of her?”
“No. That name doesn’t sound familiar.”
“She works at a hotel. I’ve called most of them in Oakley, and they’ve never heard of her. Do you know of any new hotels that might not be listed on the Internet?”
He chuckled into the phone. “Most of the things in Oakley are ancient, including the people. There’s one newer hotel on the main strip.”
“I’ve already checked that one.” Technically, Dara had been the one who checked it, and although we didn’t really have a conversation about it afterward, I was pretty sure that she would’ve said something if she’d gotten some information about her mother, no matter how mad she was at me.
“Most of the hotels are on the main road that goes through town. There is a little bed and breakfast on the corner of Ivy and Elm, but I don’t know the name of it. One of the guys I work with has been staying there.”
That didn’t sound very promising. “Can you think of anything else?”
“Not really. Oakley isn’t very big, but the next time I’m driving around, I’ll keep my eyes open.”
“Hey, man, that’d be great,” I said.
“No problem.”
“Talk to ya later, Drew.”
Discouraged, I hung up the phone, wondering how I was going to find a woman who apparently didn’t want to be found. In recent months, Dara’s mother had made an effort to have a relationship with Dara. It pissed me off that she would ignite hope within Dara, only to snuff it out so carelessly. Dara deserved better. Her mother must’ve turned back to drugs. Why else would she be a no-show for her own daughter’s birthday party?
I rubbed my jaw with my fingertips, feeling the stubble of my unshaven face. I usually kept it smoothly shaven for Dara’s sake, not that she’d ever said anything, but I figured it would feel better against her skin during our heavy make-out sessions. Since she refused to see me, there was no point in bothering now.
I stared out the window at the oak tree, its branches stretching across the backyard in a show of newly sprouted leaves in vibrant green. Luke had spent copious amounts of time beneath those very boughs, and as I thought about him, the ache in my soul multiplied. Luke was gone forever, and Dara had helped replace the sorrow that had seeped into my bones with something more promising. Luke was irreplaceable, but Dara had given me so many things to focus on other than Luke’s passing. I closed my eyes, wishing that simple act would shut out the knowledge that I had hurt the one person who had made me enjoy living again.
With renewed determination, I made the decision to spend the day in Oakley. I was going to find Dara’s mother if I had to scour the entire country.
I picked up where Dara and I had left off, at the newer hotel in the middle of the main strip. Two hours later, I’d checked in every hotel that remained with nothing to show for it but my own aggravation and desperation.
Knowing it was futile, I decided to check out the bed and breakfast that Drew had mentioned. When I pulled up in front of the dilapidated, antebellum home, I wondered who in the hell would want to stay there? An old, wooden sign declared that this creepy, two-story abode was Clara’s Bed and Breakfast. Sporting a jagged crack lengthways through the weathered wood, the sign swayed gently in the breeze, the rusty metal rings that held it in place creaking with the movement.
Despite the horrid condition of the building, the lawn and shrubbery were neatly trimmed and gave the overall impression that someone did actually live here.
Killing the engine, I lowered the kickstand and removed my helmet, placing it over the mirror. If I came up empty here, I would resort to riding down random side streets to see if I was fortunate enough to locate any other hotels.
After shuffling up the narrow steps that led to the sidewalk, I quickly made my way to the front door and knocked. A couple of minutes later, the door swung open, and a tiny, elderly lady smiled at me and waved me inside with an arthritic motion of her hand.
“Come in. Come in,” she said as I entered the front parlor, which was furnished with antiques. Pale blue wallpaper with intricate, gold scrolls covered the walls, and I had the distinct impression of taking a step back in time.
“Are you looking for a room, honey?” she asked as she placed a trembling hand on my forearm.
I had no idea if she was hard of hearing, but I found myself talking a little louder than usual as I replied, “No. Actually, I’m looking for a woman named Yvonne Golding.”
“Vonne? Oh, honey, she’s still at the hospital.”
“The hospital?” I asked, wondering if she and I were even talking about the same person.
Small tremors shook the old woman’s entire body, her head bobbing as she watched me. “Oh, yes. I don’t know when they’re gonna let her go, poor thing. She called me yesterday…or was it the day before yesterday…I really can’t remember. Anyway, she told me that she didn’t know when she’d be back by. I told her not to worry about a thing that my son would keep her stuff in the basement until she could get it.”
“Do you know what hospital she’s in?” I asked.
“Oakley. It’s the only one in town.”
I thanked her and exited as quickly as I could. I still had no idea if we were talking about the same person, but it was the closest thing to a lead I’d gotten. So damn it, I was making a visit to Oakley Hospital.
I straddled my bike and pulled out my phone, searching the Internet for Oakley Hospital. I closed my eyes as I waited for what felt like forever while the blue loading bar worked its way across my screen.
When the search results finally surfaced, I pulled up the map and noted the directions. I slid my phone back in my pocket, pulled on my helmet, and sped toward the hospital. I was within two miles of Yvonne Golding, and I hoped within two miles of winning Dara back.
The hospital was easy to spot with its emergency sign in bright red letters. I pulled into a parking spot, noting how much smaller Oakley’s hospital was compared to the ones near Quail Mountain. Several cars filled the lot, which wasn’t surprising considering the average age of an Oakley citizen was probably higher than the national average.
The automatic doors at the brightly-lit main entrance led me straight to the information desk. A plump, elderly lady smiled at me in greeting, asking if I needed assistance.
“Could you tell me which room Yvonne Golding is in?”
Her chubby fingers slowly pecked at the keys, and I cursed my lack of patience as my fingers twitched to snatch the keyboard away from her and enter the data myself. She finally looked up from the screen. “I do have permission to share that information; however, Yvonne Golding checked out almost three weeks ago.”
“Three weeks ago?” I asked, baffled. I knew the lady at the bed and breakfast indicated that she had talked to Ms. Golding
in the last couple of days. Wouldn’t the woman have known if she had checked out of the hospital that long ago?
Frustrated, I blew my breath out between clenched teeth. I was back at square one. “Can you give me her address?”
The woman pecked at the keyboard again. “I can’t give out that information.”
“Great,” I mumbled to myself. If she’d been about forty years younger, I might have been tempted to try to get her to break the rules, but somehow, I thought any charm I might be able to conjure would be about as useless to her as her computer skills were to me. “Well, thanks anyway.” I turned to leave.
“Sir,” the woman called.
I stopped in my tracks and turned to look at her. Surely, she wasn’t going to give up Ms. Golding’s address that easily.
“Yes?”
“There is another Golding admitted into the hospital. I’m not sure if they’re related, and I really can’t give you any further information, but you might check the waiting rooms.”
Another Golding?
I flashed her a smile. “Thank you.”
It could be coincidence, or I might’ve just stumbled upon a bonus. If there were two Goldings admitted at the same time, then there must’ve been some kind of an accident. Maybe a car wreck? But if the other Golding had been in the hospital for the last three weeks, then it must’ve been serious. And if they were related, then who was the other one?
Dara’s mother had told her that she didn’t talk to her parents. Did they live in Oakley? Is that why Dara’s mother wound up here? And who was the Golding that was still a patient? Could it be Dara’s grandmother?
I walked down the absurdly white hall, following the arrows to one of the waiting rooms. When I reached it, I scanned the room through the glass windows, searching for anyone who might look familiar to me. A few people watched the wall-mounted televisions, snoozed in their chairs, or played on their phones, but no one remotely resembled Yvonne Golding. I’d only met her once, but she looked enough like Dara that I felt sure that I’d recognize her if I saw her again.
Devious Page 10
