Rock and a Hard Place

by Angie Stanton

  “Talk to me, Lib.”

  The honesty on his face nearly broke her heart. “Peter, I’m not the person you think.” The weight of her confession grew heavier.

  “I’m listening.” His large brown eyes focused on her.

  “I think I better say this all at once, and I’ll tell you when I’m done. Is that okay?”

  “Lay it on me,” he said with levity.

  Libby took a deep breath and blew it out. “I don’t live with my Mom.” She watched him for a reaction and only saw mild confusion. “I live with my aunt. And I’m not from Wisconsin, I’m from Michigan.”

  His gaze became more focused as her words muddied the waters of what he knew. She took another deep bracing breath.

  “I have a dad, but I haven’t seen him in over a year. He’s kind of a mess right now because he lost his job and then our house.” She checked Peter again for his reaction; he seemed more confused.

  “But he only lost the house because of the accident. Actually it was way after the accident, after we lost my Mom and sister. Did I tell you I had a sister?” She paused and looked into his eyes. He shook his head, his eyes wide and body still. Her pain pierced like a stab to the heart. “Well she died with my Mom in the accident. I guess I never really told you about that.” She spoke faster to get the toxic words out. She tugged on her pendant, as Peter listened.

  “Well, there was this car accident. My dad was driving and this semi pulled out, and the driver was tired and anyway, he forced us off the road and our car flipped over and hit the pillars of an overpass.”

  She peeked up at his shocked expression. His eyes flashed dark with emotion.

  “There was glass everywhere and the car was all twisted. It took a while for my dad to help me out of the back where I was stuck. Then he and the truck driver worked on getting my little sister Sarah out while I tried to reach my mom.”

  Libby felt transported back in time to that terrifying summer night on the side of a highway. The night her life changed forever.

  “The car was rolled onto the passenger side and was crunched in really bad. My dad was too big to crawl around the twisted metal, so I did.”

  She remembered the thick metal crumpled like tin foil. It cut and scratched her arms and legs as she fought to get through. She recalled the desperate need to get to her mom who lay limp, still fastened in her seat, the remnants of the deployed airbag draped around her.

  “Chunks of broken glass were everywhere and I kept trying to pull it away.” The taste of panic returned as she recalled the glass spread over her mother like a sheet of deadly ice crystals. Libby opened her scarred hands to Peter in testament. “But it didn’t work.”

  Peter held her hands in his, as if to keep her from harm. It felt good.

  “Anyway, it was horrible and I don’t live in Michigan anymore, cause Dad couldn’t take the pain after Mom and Sarah died. He was so depressed he needed to leave.”

  Libby couldn’t slow herself down. The dam opened and the flow of painful secrets could no longer be held back.

  “That’s when he left me at Aunt Marge’s, but she’s really screwed up and smokes pot all day. And I don’t know why, but my dad is gone and I don’t know how to find him, so I’m just trying to finish high school so I can figure out what to do. But you need to know this because you have an amazing life and you have a real family with a mom and a dad and brothers.”

  Peter sat silent, his eyes warm and caring. He took it all in as she babbled.

  “So I just thought you should know I’m not like you, and that’s okay, and you can go do your thing and I’m all right with it.” She nodded her head with finality. “I’m all right.”

  She’d said it all and now she didn’t know what to do. She glanced all around, but avoided beautiful talented Peter as long as possible. Finally, she let her eyes meet his.

  Pity. She pulled back and crawled away from him. She hated it when others felt pity for her.

  “Libby wait.”

  She crawled faster. Peter grabbed her leg and rolled her over in the fall leaves. He lay next to her on the ground.

  “Libby, stop. It’s okay.” His eyes were a deep river of concern.

  “Don’t you dare feel sorry for me. I don’t need that. I’m fine.” Her jaw set in defiance, but her watering eyes betrayed.

  “Look at me.” He held her by the shoulders.

  She looked up at him, her rock, her only friend, her whole world.

  “It’s okay. I don’t care about that.” He shook his head. “No, I do care about that, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything. You are who you are and I am who I am. Nothing’s changed.” He locked eyes with her and looked deep into her soul. “You’re life sucks right now, and mine, well, it doesn’t, except that I can’t be with you all the time.”

  He wouldn’t let go of her and she felt so safe. He accepted her past.

  “I wish you would have told me before. Why have you held this in?”

  “I didn’t think you’d want to know.” Her voice began to quiver.

  “Of course I want to know.” He pulled her to him and wrapped his famous, talented arms around her.

  “It’s okay, Lib, I love you, I’m here for you and I’m not going anywhere.”

  His words made her feel she might survive after all. She relaxed against him. A rare breath of mourning and pain escaped, and then a single tear. Peter held her tightly, his body enveloping her in a warm embrace of love and understanding.

  For the first time in many months, she cried.

  # # #

  Peter held Libby crying in his arms. He didn’t move, afraid he might frighten her back to her stoic façade. He never understood before this moment what loss meant. Here, in his arms, was a fragile, quivering girl who’d lost everything in her world. She put on such a strong act, pretending her life was normal, when it was everything but.

  But today she opened up. After all these weeks of pretending, she lowered her guard and let him into her world. He imagined she rarely shared her story, and it explained a lot. No wonder she thought his family so perfect. How could he ever complain about them again when Libby longed for the family she lost.

  Peter kissed her tears away. The taste of salt reached his tongue. Her breath warmed his chest as he held her close. He’d known for a while he was in love with her. She never treated him like a famous rocker. It was always real with her. Libby’s confession amped up his determination to protect her and keep her safe. He didn’t care about the press or the tabloids or their age. He’d been living the life of an adult for years and apparently she had too. Things were about to change.

  Chapter 10

  That night they cruised down the highway toward Rockville in a sporty jeep. “Nice wheels,” Libby ran her fingertips over the butter soft leather seat.

  “It’s a rental.” Peter grinned.

  He pushed his hair to the side unaware of how great he looked. He held the steering wheel casually, the seatbelt snug across his narrow hips. Damn he was gorgeous, and he was only driving.

  “If you’re hoping to keep a low profile, I don’t think this is the best way.” The flashy red jeep would stand out in small town Rockville. The country roads led to the heart of historic downtown.

  “I couldn’t resist. I can park in a dark alley, if you want,” Peter said.

  “I’m not worried about me, I just figured you wanted to keep things quiet.”

  “Fans expect to see Jamieson as a group, not one of us out alone wandering middle America. Plus, I brought a hat.”

  Libby shifted comfortably in her seat. Tonight was just them, flying under the radar. She managed to avoid Aunt Marge this afternoon. With any luck, the woman would be strung out and oblivious to Libby’s whereabouts. If not, well, Libby didn’t care anymore. She’d turn seventeen in a few months and that was practically eighteen.

  “Turn right at the stop sign, that’s Fourth Street. It takes you straight to Main.” Her breath caught in her throat at the thoug
ht of driving into the heart of town with Peter Jamieson. She felt the need to pinch herself.

  They drove down the quiet neighborhood streets lined with giant oaks. Old Victorian homes stood witness as they passed. A bend in the street led them over an old stone bridge and the Rock River.

  “This place is amazing. It’s like stepping back in time.”

  “It is pretty.” Libby absorbed it with fresh eyes. She always thought of Rockville as a purgatory she’d been forced to endure, not a quaint little town. They drove past the town square, where a pavilion graced the center and stone benches scattered the tree filled park. Fall leaves coated everything.

  “It looks like a cool hang out place. Do you spend much time here?”

  “Nope, never been,” she answered without regret. “It’s too far from my aunt’s house, almost five miles. I ride the bus to school and don’t have my license, let alone a car to drive.” She stopped asking permission to get her license months ago. Aunt Marge said it would only lead to bad behavior. Libby didn’t care about getting her license. She worried driving might be a constant reminder of the accident. The pungent smell of gasoline at the crash still haunted her. However her tolerance of Aunt Marge’s bizarre rules wore thin. Since the issue with her Dad’s letter, she cared far less what her aunt said or thought.

  “That’s why I hang out at Parfrey’s Glen. Anywhere else is too far.”

  Peter reached over and held her hand, which amazed her every time. It was as if he could transfer all his love, strength and confidence to her.

  After a turn onto Main Street and past a handful of shops, the lights of Ed’s Burger Joint appeared.

  “That must be it.” Peter approached the old-fashioned drive up. A handful of cars occupied spots, each with food trays attached to their windows.

  “Yep.” Libby nodded.

  “This is going to be fun.” Peter pulled into the lot and parked farthest from the restaurant and the bulk of the other cars.

  After checking out the menu, Peter placed their order through a little metal box with a crackly speaker.

  “Get cheese curds too,” Libby added.

  Peter gave her a crooked look. “It’s a Wisconsin thing, right?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  They sat in the Jeep and talked about everything and nothing at all, oblivious to the other cars. When the food arrived, the twenty-something waitress looked twice at Peter, but said nothing. As she walked away, she glanced back at him and then Libby, obviously weighing the likelihood of the recognized face belonging to the real Peter Jamieson.

  “People don’t expect to see me, so they don’t.”

  Peter was here to see Libby and she wanted everyone in town to know it, but she didn’t want to share him either. She coveted their every moment.

  Together they stuffed themselves with good ole greasy food until Libby thought she’d burst. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate out.

  “So you aren’t one of those girls who barely eats on a date?”

  “Why wouldn’t I eat?” She sucked the last of her chocolate malt from the bottom of the glass, creating a hollow suction sound with her straw.

  Peter laughed. “I don’t know, I guess some girls don’t want guys to see them in their natural habitat.”

  Libby stirred the straw around the glass, scooting the last bits of malt together. “I love food.” She handed the empty glass back for him to place on the tray.

  “Where to next?” Peter asked.

  “First, the waitress needs to come get the tray off the side of the door. Otherwise, I guarantee you will be noticed driving down the street with a food tray hanging on your window.”

  “Oh yeah, guess I missed that little detail.”

  His brief look of embarrassment warmed her heart. The world traveler, Peter Jamieson, didn’t know how to do a drive-up restaurant. “Start the car or turn your lights on. She’ll come.”

  Peter started the Jeep; the powerful engine hummed. Within a couple minutes the waitress returned for their tray. As she lifted it from the window, she eyed Peter again.

  “You wouldn’t happen to be . . .”

  “Nope.” Peter interrupted, then flashed her his famous smile as he put the Jeep in reverse.

  The waitress stepped out of the way. Libby saw her glance down at the tray and see the twenty-dollar tip. She looked up at him, her face more confused than ever. Peter backed up and then pulled onto Main Street.

  “So which direction is the Trivoli?”

  “We’re going to a movie?” Libby hadn’t seen a movie in ages.

  “Of course, it wouldn’t be a proper date if we didn’t have dinner and a movie.”

  Libby couldn’t have asked for a more perfect night. She directed him further down Main. They had a half hour before the show started, so Peter parked and they wandered along the river.

  “So how did you convince your parents to let you come?” She looped her arm around his.

  “I held them at gun point,” he said with a straight face.

  “No really?” She poked him in the arm.

  “It wasn’t hard at all . . . considering it’s my eighteenth birthday.”

  Libby stopped. “It’s your birthday? When?” She faced him and blocked his path.

  “Today.”

  “You jerk, you didn’t tell me.” She grabbed the front of his leather jacket and tried to give him a good shake; he laughed at her.

  “What was I supposed to say? It’s my birthday, so you have to be really nice to me and bake me a cake?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what you were supposed to say,” she brooded. “I would have gotten you a present.” How, she didn’t know. It would have been worth cleaning the school lunch room again.

  “Spending time with you is all the present I need.” He put his arm around her and pulled her close.

  His words blew her away. Today was his special day and he came all this way to celebrate with her. “Well you need a birthday present. Eighteen is a big deal. When I turn eighteen, the world is going to know.”

  “My life is filled with over the top, I wanted something meaningful.”

  Libby gazed into his gorgeous eyes then reached and brought his face down to her. She kissed him sweetly on the mouth. It felt like her birthday today, not his. She reached behind her neck and unhooked her necklace.

  “I know this isn’t much, but it’s one of my favorite things. If it isn’t too dorky or weird, I’d like you to have it.” She held the pendant out for him to see. It was one of her most prized possessions.

  He touched the onyx carving, strung on a leather string, his eyes connected with hers. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” she stated. “It’s an ancient symbol. It represents trust.”

  “It’s awesome. Very rock and roll.” He rubbed his thumb over the smooth stone.

  “You think?” Libby nibbled at her lip. She wanted him to love it as much as she did.

  “Yeah.” He touched the tip of her nose with his. “Where’d you get it?”

  “My mom gave it to me after a trip she and my dad took.” She liked how the leather cord lay against Peter’s skin.

  Peter sighed, his tone serious. “Oh Libby, are you sure?” His eyes searched hers. “It’s too important.”

  “If you don’t want it, that’s okay, but if you do, I’d love for you to have it. I don’t think it’s very girlie, I think it was actually meant for a guy, but Mom and I thought it was cool.”

  “Yes, I want it.” He closed his hand over hers. “And it isn’t girlie at all. I wondered why you always wore it.”

  Libby squeezed his hand, glad to share this connection. It solidified everything in her heart and proved Peter’s goodness. Her mom would have liked him a lot.

  “Help me.” Peter leaned close.

  She placed the thin leather cord around his neck and attached the clasp, then stood back. Satisfied, she nodded. “I like it.” Her neck felt bare without it, but on Peter the pendant looked perfect, as if created for
him alone.

  Peter touched the carving against his skin. “Me too.” He leaned down and kissed her, sending little thrills through her body.

  They left the river behind and meandered down Main Street, his arm slung over her shoulder, and her head rested against him.

  “The town is so quiet. Where is everybody on a Friday night?”

  “At the football game. The town practically shuts down for Friday night football.”

  “Would you rather go to the game?”

  “Gosh no, and hang around those idiots? No way. Plus, you don’t have to worry about getting recognized. Everyone under the age of forty is at the game.”

  “What makes them idiots?”

  “They’ve just always treated me horrible. I wasn’t born and raised here, so that made me an immediate outsider. And my aunt is a total whack job, so that doesn’t help. They know about my family.” She stopped talking for a minute. Peter looked down at her, his face sincere. “They don’t know the details, just that Mom died and Dad left me here.”

  Talking about her family hurt. She missed them so much. Her throat tightened.

  “Hey, you’re not alone any more. Okay?” He stopped, his eyes focused on hers.

  “Okay.” They began walking again. Peter put his around her and held her close.

  “Anyway, the people in this town are so small-minded, especially at school. Anyone different is an outcast. I’m so over it.” She slid her arm around his waist and hooked her thumb in the edge of his back pocket. It felt nice to belong again.

  # # #

  After the movie, Peter drove them back toward the stifling farmette. His gut ached thinking of leaving Libby with her pot-smoking aunt.

  “Are you sure you’re okay there?”

  “It’s fine. I’m used to it.” She sighed.

  “Well I’ve been thinking . . .”

  “That’s dangerous.” Her voice chimed.

  He reached across and squeezed her leg. “Would you be quiet, this is serious.”

  “Yes sir,” she giggled.

  “Actually there are two things.” He returned his hand to the steering wheel. “First, I think its time we get you out of here.” There, he’d said it.