by Amber Garza
I glanced up, my gaze connecting with Carter’s. The intensity in his eyes caused my heart to stutter in my chest. “No.” I shook my head. “Not at all.”
“Good.” His palm rested on my shoulder. “I never want to hurt you, Aspen.”
I swallowed hard. Something told me we weren’t talking about the baseball game anymore.
“And I never will,” he added firmly. “Not intentionally.”
I froze. The glove slipped from my hand, falling to the ground with a soft thud.
“I would never intentionally hurt you,” Kurt said. “But sometimes it’s necessary. You understand, right?”
A minute ago Carter’s hand felt good. Now it felt restrictive, like a vice gripping me. Claustrophobia kicked in; my chest crushing my windpipe. I tore away from him, struggling to breathe.
His eyes widened. “Aspen?”
“Aspen?” Kurt moved toward me on his spindly legs, his arms reaching out to me. He reminded me of a spider in his web crawling toward his prey.
I shivered.
“Are you okay?” Carter stayed where he was, completely still as if he was afraid any sudden movement would frighten me. It made me feel stupid. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No,” I answered honestly. He hadn’t said anything wrong. It was my damn memories that crept in, ruining a perfectly good moment. This was what always happened. “You didn’t.” I shook my head, hoping the physical act would clear my mind. “I’m fine.” Bending down, I picked up the glove and ball. Once I had them in my hand I stood back up and forced a smile. Then I stuck my hand inside the glove and palmed the ball with my free hand. “Look alive,” I said, using the phrase my dad always said to me when we played ball together. Then I flung the ball in Carter’s direction.
He caught it and then studied me, his brows furrowing. The ball disappeared inside Carter’s glove. “You sure you’re okay?”
I felt guilty for my earlier suspicions. Carter was the first person I’d ever met who showed any interest in me outside of my story. He cared about me, I could tell.
“Yeah, I am,” I said confidently, my head lifted. And maybe with Carter’s help I always would be.
Carter tossed the ball back to me. This time I missed it and it fell to the left of my shoulder.
“My bad,” Carter said.
Turning around, I retrieved it. “So, what position did you play?” I threw it back to him.
It found its way into his glove as if it were magnetic. “Pitcher.” He said this with pride.
“You really liked playing, huh?”
He nodded.
“What made you quit?”
“Um…life happened. You know.” His gaze shifted away from me as if he couldn’t look me in the eye. “It’s not like I was ever going to play professionally anyway.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “Wasn’t in the cards.”
There was more to it than that. I could tell. There was a part of this story he clearly didn’t want to share. My curiosity was peeked, but I didn’t want to pry. I hated when people did it to me, so I certainly wouldn’t do it to him.
THIRTEEN
“You were right. It was hopeless,” he said.
I lay in the grass in the backyard, the cordless phone pressed to my ear. It was after nine o’clock and the sun had gone down. The sky wasn’t quite pitch black yet, but it was dark. Stars began to emerge, like a splattering of sparkles, and the crescent moon shone brightly, emitting a soft glow to the darkness around it. The temperature had lowered, but it was still pretty warm. I didn’t bother putting down a blanket when I flung myself on the ground. The coolness of the grass felt good against my skin. Mom never understood how I could lay in the grass like this. Grass made her itch. Her skin would break out in a rash just thinking about it. I suppose I was immune to it. I never felt itchy at all. I liked to think it was because I was one with nature. That it was a part of me.
“What’s hopeless?” I folded my free arm under my head, using it as a pillow. The stars winked at me from above like we were in on a little secret.
“My flower. The one I showed you the picture of.” He paused. “It may be time to coordinate its funeral.”
I giggled, imagining a funeral for a flower. I’ll admit that I’m crazy about them, but even I wasn’t psychotic enough to throw a memorial service for one. “It can’t be that bad.”
“Oh. Trust me. It is. I’ll bring a photograph when I come over tomorrow.”
My heart skipped a beat. It scared me sometimes how much I looked forward to seeing Carter. What happened when this was all over? We couldn’t string this article out forever. Pretty soon Carter would have to turn something in. And then what? There’d be no excuse to see one another. I liked to believe that we were friends, and that he’d still want to see me after the article published, but I wasn’t that naïve. It’s not that I didn’t think he liked me. No, he’d made it clear that he did. But Carter wasn’t like me. He was a normal guy who’d lived a normal life. I didn’t know how old he was, but my guess was around twenty-five. And I was sure he had tons of friends. Maybe even a girlfriend. When this was all over I was sure he’d have no need for me anymore.
“Aspen?” His question broke through the silence. Often I got so lost in my own thoughts I forgot to speak. I wondered how long we’d been on the phone in complete silence. “We’re still on for tomorrow, right?”
“Yes,” I answered. “Um…” Biting my lip I gathered up courage. “How much longer do you think the interviewing and everything will take? Like how many more sessions?”
“Anxious to get rid of me, huh?”
No. More like terrified of not seeing you again. “Yeah,” I teased.
“Ouch.”
“I’m kidding,” I said quickly. Maybe this joking around thing wasn’t for me.
“I know. So was I.” He paused as a light breeze skated over me. I closed my eyes, enjoying it. “But honestly, it shouldn’t be much longer. The National View wants the story. Since I’m not a writer or a reporter, I’m sending them notes when we’re finished. They’ll have a writer put it together.”
The thought never crossed my mind that someone else would be writing the article. Of course it made sense that Carter wouldn’t write it. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it sooner.
“Don’t worry.” It was like he knew my thoughts. “You’ll have final approval. Nothing will be printed without your say-so.”
A sigh escaped through my lips. “So that’s good then. We’re almost done.” I was afraid that my attempt at sounding cheery fell flat.
“Yeah, I guess it is good.” Carter didn’t sound as happy as I had expected him to.
“Then you can get back to hanging out with your girlfriend or whatever.” Lame, I know. But I had to ask. I couldn’t help it.
“I don’t have a girlfriend, Aspen.”
“Oh.” I had no idea how to respond to that. “Then your friends. I’m sure all the days spent over here are sure putting a damper on your social life.”
“Spending time with you isn’t putting a damper on anything. I can assure you of that.”
A broad smile swept my face.
“But I know this has all been hard on you, and for that reason I’ll try to get this finished as soon as possible.”
The smile vanished. He was right. Talking about my past was hard for me. I hated every minute of it. But I loved spending time with Carter. I wished there was a way to be done with the article and still have Carter in my life.
“Thanks,” I muttered, because I knew it was what I was expected to say.
“Hopefully I’ve made it at least bearable for you.”
Oh, you’ve made it more than bearable. “Well, you’re better than Neil.”
A chuckle filled the line. “I’ll take it.”
To my right I heard a cracking noise, almost like a twig breaking. I inhaled sharply and then shot up, my adrenaline spiking.
“Aspen? You okay?”
> My gaze scoured the yard. Another crack. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled.
“Aspen? Answer me. What’s going on?”
I was afraid to speak. Staying still, I listened and heard the rustle of leaves. I caught movement at the corner of my vision. Turning swiftly I saw a squirrel racing toward the fence. My shoulders relaxed, and I exhaled. “Sorry. I thought I heard something, but it was just a squirrel.”
“God, you scared me to death.” He did sound shaken up. It surprised me that he’d be that worried. “You’re outside?”
“Yeah.” I crossed my legs, sitting the way I used to in kindergarten. I think we called it “criss-cross applesauce.” That was before. That was when I was still innocent. When I didn’t know evil existed.
“You should probably go inside. Are your parents home?”
God, what was I? A toddler? “Yes, but I’m fine. I practically live outside. You know that.”
“Are you at least in the backyard?” His panicked tone took me aback.
“Yes. Of course. Why are you so worried? I’m fine.” I spoke slowly, deliberately, all the while wondering what I was missing. Did Carter know something I didn’t?
“Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I will.” It was a promise I made all the time to my mom. But what she wanted was a guarantee that I’d be safe. And that was something I knew I couldn’t give her. Bad things happen all the time, and there’s nothing we can do to stop it. I knew this better than anyone.
He cried at sad movies.
I found this so odd. How could a man who kidnaps little girls be sensitive enough to cry at movies? And how come those characters’ lives were more important than mine? How did they warrant his emotion, his sympathy?
The first time I realized this was when we were watching some stupid made for TV movie downstairs. Eve was upstairs. She was always upstairs. At first I thought it was a rite of passage like it was for me. I figured that once he realized he could trust her she’d be able to join us. In fact, I waited in anticipation for that day. It meant I no longer had to be alone with him. Sometimes he liked to cuddle me, put his hand on my leg or have me sit in his lap. I hated it. It made my skin crawl. When I went up to my room afterward, I longed for a bath in order to wash all traces of him from my skin. I thought that once Eve came down with us maybe he wouldn’t be so touchy-feely.
At the time I didn’t realize that Eve would never come downstairs. Not until our very last night here.
Eve didn’t play by the rules.
“I’m not going to give in to his shitty mind games, Aspen,” Eve would say. “He’s not my dad. He’s a sick bastard who stole me from my family. I’m never going to do what he says. In fact, I’m going to make his life a living hell. Make him wish he’d never taken me.”
And that’s what she did.
Only she suffered a lot because of it.
I’d cover my ears when he beat her. I’d close my eyes and will it away. Afterward, I would hold her in my arms, and rock her to sleep. She’d cry on my shoulder, wrap her legs around me, clinging to me as if her life depended on it. We were closer than sisters, she and I. We needed each other.
It killed me to look at her bruises. To see her battered and beaten. I would beg her to stop.
“Please, Eve. Just give in to him. It doesn’t have to be this way. He just wants you to be nice,” I told her.
“I can’t. You may be okay with being his little puppet, but I can’t do it.”
I wanted to be angry with her, but the truth was that I was angry with myself. I never stood up to Kurt. Not the way Eve did. I was too scared. I didn’t want him to be angry with me. I didn’t want to be hurt. As much as I hated what he did to Eve, I still admired her courage.
She was stronger than I could ever hope to be.
FOURTEEN
The glossy pictures stared up at me. Each unique. Each with a different story. A different look. A different feel. But it was still obvious that he’d taken them. It was like his camera was magical, the way his subjects came to life on film. It was like I could feel their emotion. As if I knew them. I’d heard that photographers had the ability to steal the soul of those they photograph. I always thought it sounded weird. Until now.
The souls of these people were laid bare for me to see.
He’d captured their true essence. And it was mesmerizing.
At first I had made fun of Mom for buying all these magazines. Now I was grateful. Thumbing through the pages and studying Carter’s pictures was like having a window to his heart and mind. I could see him in every smile, every eye, and every hint of light. He was there in the images, even if not physically.
Reaching for my cup of tea, I brought it to my lips and took a tentative sip. Thankfully it wasn’t too hot. A few minutes ago I burned my tongue when I took too large of a gulp. Morning sunlight filtered in through the front window, painting lines on the magazines littering the coffee table. I set my teacup down on the saucer and ran the pads of my fingers over one image in particular. It was of a young woman. She had fiery red hair and deep green eyes, a smattering of freckles over her nose. Her skin was pale, such a contrast to her colorful hair. But what struck me about her most was the resigned set of her jaw, the passion in her eyes. I didn’t have to read her story to know she’d endured pain. No words could convey what her face was telling me. Carter’s pictures told a story.
It made me wonder what mine would say.
Was I more than just a girl who’d been kidnapped? Was there more to my story?
“Watcha doing?” Mom entered the room, the bottom of her shoes clicking on the hardwood floors. She was already dressed, her hair and makeup fixed. In her hand she held a coffee mug. I was still in my pajamas, my hair in a messy bun on the top of my head.
When she neared the couch, I scooted over to let her sit down. “Looking at Carter’s pictures.”
Her gaze landed on the one I’d been studying. “They are spectacular.”
I nodded in agreement.
“Have you seen yours yet?”
“No,” I answered, my gaze sweeping the coffee table. I was excited and scared about seeing the ones he took of me.
“I’m sure they’re gorgeous.” She fingered a loose strand of my hair, a piece that had escaped from the bun.
“I hope so.” I smiled.
“Well, you’ll know very soon.” Mom sat back on the couch, lifting the coffee cup to her lips. When she took a sip, her red lipstick left a mark on the rim.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I heard from the National View. They said the article will run next month.”
“Next month?” My heart pounded in my chest. “How is that possible? We’re not even done.”
“I know.” Mom rested the coffee mug in her lap, her hands wrapped around it. “But you will be. Carter’s coming over today to finish the interview up.”
“But they can’t print it that fast. Can they?”
“No, it will come out in their online magazine first. It won’t be in hardcopy for another couple of months. It’s amazing how fast they can do things now with the internet. Still they’ll be cutting it close, but they’re sure they can swing it.” She grinned. “Besides, you know how those places are. I think they thrive on tight deadlines.”
I stared at Mom in disbelief. No, I had no idea what those places were like. I had no idea what any place was like. I was only ever here. In this house.
Finally I had something other than my family and my flowers to look forward to, and now I only had him for today. Why didn’t he tell me on the phone? I specifically asked him.
Frowning, I glanced down.
“You okay?” Mom placed a hand on my shoulder, worry in her eyes.
“Yeah,” I lied. “I better get ready. Carter will be here soon.” Standing up, I peered down at the pictures one last time. As I hurried out of the family room, I felt as if the souls of Carter’s subjects followed me. They clung to my skin, wove through my veins
. As if we were one and the same. Which I guess in some ways we were.
After I showered and got dressed, I dried my hair and put on a little lip gloss. For the first time in my life I wished I knew how to put on makeup. Mom had tried to teach me over the years, but I always refused. Who did I need to look good for?
Now I regretted not listening. It would be nice to put on a little eyeshadow and blush, maybe some mascara. I was sure the girls Carter dated wore makeup. There was no doubt in my mind that they didn’t spend all their time in dirty shorts and t-shirts, hanging out in their backyards.
When I heard him downstairs, I caught one last dismal glance in the mirror and then headed down. It wasn’t going to get any better than this today. At least I’d worn a cute, pink tank top and my cleanest jean shorts. As I hurried down the stairs, my hair fell over my shoulders in soft blond waves.
Carter waited for me at the bottom of the stairs. When our gazes met, my breath caught in my throat. I no longer felt self-conscious about my looks. Not with the way Carter was staring at me. Not with the way his gaze lingered on my face, my body. Heat rose in the places his eyes slowly roamed as he took in every inch of me. I thought of the photographs on my coffee table. The way Carter could awaken those people, to draw out their innermost feelings, exposing them to the world. He was awakening me the same way. The scared little girl that fought to come out all the time was tucked away tight. With Carter’s eyes on mine, I truly felt like a woman.
Mom eyed both of us suspiciously as we made our way to the backyard. The minute my feet hit the back porch and the sun shone down on me, I was grateful to be away from her prying eyes.
