Atlantis Reborn
Page 21
The poor book was in bad condition. I’d gotten it used from the Shadow Box Bookstore and had reread it a dozen times since. The cover was worn and the spine was starting to crack, but I’d never trade it in for a new one. Between the pages, I’d stashed the letter Brandy wrote to me before she died and three sketches Theron drew of my mother and father.
Not wanting the book to get more damaged, I was going to put it in my jacket pocket, but I felt something that made me freeze. Ian’s signature was headed my way.
Flushed with surprise and happiness, I climbed back over the water break and ran down the beach toward him. He was laughing when I threw myself into his arms. I hugged him and kissed him and hugged him again.
“What are you doing here?” I finally managed to ask.
“I was going to surprise you by showing up at your door tonight with flowers and an invitation to the opera, but Lillian texted to say she’d already invited you. It’s probably good, because I hated the idea of spending the rest of the day in a hotel room while you were within a few easy driving miles.”
Smiling, I tipped my chin up so he’d kiss me. “How did you know I was here?” I asked, leading him up the water break.
“Lillian again,” he replied. “She’s a terrible friend, by the way. She’s a stalker who knows where you are all the time, and she can’t keep a secret. Did I mention this is a terrible hideout?”
I’d been watching his mouth as he spoke, and when he stopped, it seemed the perfect time to kiss him again, but a gust of wind pushed at us, almost knocking Dragonsong from my hand.
“Crap,” I said. “We should get out of the wind. It’s better on the other side.”
He followed me down and sat next to me in the sand. Then he took the book from my hand. “What are you reading?” he asked.
“Not that. I brought it by mistake.”
“Oh,” he said, turning the paperback over in his hand. “This is your special book.”
I’d shown him the things I kept in it once, but he’d never called it my special book before.
“Do you mind if I take the letter and pictures out?” he asked.
We were out of the wind so I shrugged.
Very carefully, he laid everything in a line. “What do you see when you look at these things?” he asked me.
“A book, a letter, and some sketches.”
“I see parts of you,” he replied. “The book is your relationship with Lillian, the letter is your friendship with Brandy, and the sketches are whatever it is between you and Theron.”
I looked at my little treasures with new appreciation. “I hadn’t thought of it that way,” I admitted.
“But they aren’t the complete you,” he added. Then with a teasing look, he said, “You’d better be wearing my necklace.”
“Always,” I replied, lifting the sapphire so he could see.
“Can I borrow it for a minute?”
I unlatched the chain and handed it over. “This is the most important bit because it’s represents your relationship with me,” he said, with wink.
“Of course,” I agreed.
He took some objects from his pocket and laid them out one by one with the other stuff. The first was my mom’s turquoise bracelet, the second was my dad’s handkerchiefs, and the third was another stupid rock from my brother’s collection.
Tears stung my eyes as I looked at them.
“I brought these for you to remember your family by,” Ian said. “I wasn’t planning on doing an object lesson with them, but I think it works because only when you look at all of this stuff together do you see the whole picture of who you are.”
I sniffed and nodded.
“It’s okay to think about them,” he said quietly. “It’s okay to remember good moments with your family, and it’s okay to be sad when you miss them. It’s not okay to pretend they aren’t a part of you.”
The tears started to come then, and it was okay because he was there to hold me while the sobs rocketed through me.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered as he held me tight. “I have a case of tissues in the backseat of the car.”
“Are you sure this is where we’re supposed to go?” I asked Lillian. “I don’t see anyone else around.”
Speeding through the vacant parking lot at the opera hall, she replied, “This is the right place.”
If that was true, Ian must have had the date wrong, because we were the only ones around. Obviously there was no show that night, and I was disappointed. I felt pretty and a little powerful in my blue dress with the slight slit up the side. I would have liked to wear it in public, if only to see what other people thought when they saw me in it.
“Ian should have stayed with us instead of insisting on going back to his hotel to get ready,” I said. “We could have turned straight around and gone home. I’ll text him to meet us back there.”
I opened my clutch to get my phone but dropped it when Lillian took a turn without breaking. “Hold on a minute,” she said. “We’re almost there.”
I bent down and grabbed my phone off the floor just as she made another sharp turn. My head banged hard against the door. “What are you doing?” I asked, rubbing the sore spot. “Driving in a square?”
She pulled right up to the front steps of the opera building and stomped hard on the brake. “Perfect,” she said.
Wondering if I’d have permeant whiplash, I replied, “You can’t park here. This is where limos let people off. Or where they would if there was a show tonight.”
Ignoring me, she counted, “Three…two…one…”
My door opened, and Ian stood looking down at me. When he smiled, I lost the ability to speak. I’d seen him in a lot of different clothes. When we sparred, he didn’t wear much at all, but Ian in a tux was my new favorite thing ever. His smile broadened like he was reading my mind.
“Right on time, Lillian,” he said. “Thank you.”
He offered me his hand, and I let him help me out of the car. “What’s going on?” I asked. “There’s no one here.”
“What do you mean? We’re here.”
“Right, but…”
“All will be revealed,” he said while raising on eyebrow to appear mysterious.
I held on to his arm as we walked up the stairs and then inside. “It’s beautiful here,” I said, looking at the grand space.
An usher came up holding a flower box. “My mom said you had to have one of these,” Ian said, taking a wrist corsage out. It had three pale-pink roses and white baby’s breath, and was tied with a gray-blue ribbon.
I loved it so much I giggled when he lifted my wrist to put it on, and I wasn’t really the giggling kind.
“Turn around,” Lillian said.
When we did, she was holding her phone up to take a picture. “Wait, no!” I said, shielding my face.
“I know it’s against the rules,” Ian said, “but I asked her to take just one. We can delete it later.”
“Okay,” I agreed.
He stood behind me with his hands on my waist, like they did in cheesy school dance photos. Lillian took the picture and watched him lead me into the auditorium. I thought I detected a bit of moisture in her eyes before she turned away.
On the stage the backdrop said, “A Night Under the Stars. Alison’s Fake Prom.”
I started to laugh.
“I told you I’d take you to prom,” he said proudly. “Sorry it couldn’t be in a high school.”
“You rented out an opera hall to do this,” I replied. “No apology needed.”
R&B music started to play over the sound system. “I hired a DJ, too,” he explained. “Well…sort of. Really, it’s the same guy that brought the flowers. He’s running my playlist.”
I laughed again. “I think you’re offending the opera gods who look down on this place.”
“I’m broadening their horizons,” he countered. “They love me for it.”
We walked the stairs up to the stage and a slow song started playing. I close
d my eyes as he pulled me close to dance…and it happened.
I suddenly felt the beat of his heart like it was in my own chest. We both froze. From the look on his face, I knew he’d felt mine, too.
Then it was like I was inside his mind. “Holy crap,” I whispered as our thoughts zipped together.
I could feel all the joy and relief he felt, knowing we would always be together.
“Holy crap,” he agreed.
And then we were one.
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Acknowledgments
My thanks to the people at Entangled Teen for their work on the Atlantis Rising series. Special thanks to my editor, Jennifer Mishler, who was a joy to work with.
As always, thanks to my husband and daughters for their support and willingness to eat take-out when I need to focus on writing and editing.
About the Author
Gloria Craw grew up in the desert Southwest, inspired every day by the wide skies and rich colors around her. After high school, she attended the University of Utah where she majored and got a degree in anthropology. These days, she lives in the ‘burbs’ just outside of Seattle, Washington, where she is the shepherd of a husband, four daughters, and a very hairy dog.
www.gloriacraw.com
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