by Susan Hatler
And who wanted their fairytale delusions destroyed, after all?
I heard the car start up again and waited to either hear him make a U-turn and drive away or pass me on his way down the road.
He didn’t do either of those things.
Instead, he followed me from a distance.
“What are you doing?” I shouted over my shoulder after a couple of blocks. “I’ll call the police if you don’t stop this, I swear.”
“I’m not going to let you walk home in the dark, alone, on this road.”
“Oh, you’re a nice guy now?” I asked, with an incredulous laugh. “Give me a break, Mr. Nice Guy. I don’t buy your act anymore. You can rest up after all that work deceiving us. I’m sure it was exhausting.”
“You can’t really mean that.”
“I’m not interested in what you think I know!” I shouted, pain racking through my chest as I fought to hold the sobs in that kept threatening to escape. I didn’t want him to see how deeply I’d fallen for him, or how badly he’d hurt me.
I continued walking without so much as glancing at him again. He followed me all the way to the apartment building, right up to the entrance door. I pushed through the door without looking over my shoulder and ran up the stairs to my apartment as fast as I could, so I could cry my heart out on my own.
And I did. I sobbed all night until I finally fell asleep with my arms around my pillow.
Chapter Fifteen
The morning after the showdown with Jason, I arrived at Bernie’s Bakery, even though today was supposed to be my day off. Melinda appreciated my offer to come in since she had a lot of wedding errands, with the wedding only a week away. Even though my heart felt like a rock in my chest, I worked as hard as I always did for Melinda and the customers. They deserved it. But no more smiley-faced cinnamon rolls for me.
“Good morning, Avery.” Melinda smiled at me and then turned back to cutting scone dough into triangles and sprinkling them with sugar. “When do you think you can make it into Blissfully Bridal for the final fitting on your dress?”
“Hmm? Oh, I’m sorry. I should’ve done that by now.”
“No, goofy. It’s only been a few days. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” She came over to me after sliding the tray into the oven. “Are you okay? You look like you don’t feel well.”
“In other words, I look like garbage.”
She scoffed. “I don’t think you could look like garbage if you tried. But you do look exhausted. Run-down. Miserable. I hate to see you this way. What’s going on?”
I figured it wouldn’t be a good idea to inform her that her cousin is a snake, so I kept that to myself. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
The timer went off. Saved by the bell.
I gestured toward the oven. “You can pull out the muffins.”
“You know that’s not what I meant.” She sighed, looking disappointed that I wasn’t making it easy for her to help. But she opened the oven door.
“Thanks for the offer, Melinda. That’s means a lot,” I said, knowing I would have to put on a happier face. I didn’t want to be the pin that popped her happy, pre-wedding bubble. No way. Instead, I would work through my pain and keep it to myself.
Instead of thinking about Jason, who persistently invaded my mind, I forced my thoughts elsewhere. “Would you mind if I took a little time this morning to make a few phone calls? It’s really important, and it’s better if I make them first thing,” I said.
“Of course.” Melinda’s forehead wrinkled as she moved about in the kitchen. “You never ask for favors like this, though. What’s it all about, if you don’t mind my asking?”
So, as delicately as I could without mentioning her cousin’s part in this disaster, I explained what was happening with Founding Friendships. She looked shocked when I told her about finding the tunnels underground, but who wouldn’t? I certainly was surprised when I first learned about them.
“You actually went down there? To the tunnels?” She sat on a stool across from me at the worktable, leaning forward on her elbows. The cupcakes she’d been frosting appeared forgotten for the moment.
“Sure did.” I nodded, looking back and thinking that had been a pretty gutsy move.
“You went down to dark, old tunnels by yourself?” she breathed, eyes wide.
Whoops, I’d walked into that one. “Um, no. Not completely alone,” I said, wanting to kick myself. After all, how could I have gone down partially alone? This was not my day. I stared down at the tray of brownies as I sliced the contents into individual pieces.
“Oh, well that’s a relief. I hate to think of you venturing into a tunnel like that all by yourself. What if something happened to you? A tunnel could collapse or who knows what else? And there would be nobody to go for help,” she said, her body shuddering.
“Trust me, I would never go down there alone, for any reason,” I said, thankful she hadn’t asked who had accompanied me, since there was no way I could go down that road. “I need to call the historical society this morning, so somebody could hopefully help stave off this development company. The residents are supposed to be out in three weeks, so we need to move fast to find out if we can save their building.”
“That is such a shame about those people. Families, who are trying to get back on their feet. What a heartless thing to do, going forward with the sale and requiring them to move out even after Bill told them about the residents in the building.”
“Definitely heartless.” My mind felt numb from the fact that Jason had been behind this heartless disaster the whole time. Melinda would be shocked to hear about his part in this. But I’d never tell her such devastating news when next weekend was supposed to be one of the happiest times of her life. “Anything for a buck, right?”
“If there’s anything I can do to help, please tell me.”
Unless she could get her cousin to stop the sale, there wasn’t anything she could do. My face felt numb and I patted my cheek with my fingertips. Lack of sleep and heartbreak added up to a pretty poor state of mind.
“You’re already doing me a favor by covering for me while I make those calls today. Bill will need to hear from me, too. I hope he’s feeling better than he was last night.”
After our talk, we got down to the business of setting up the display cases, taking down the chairs and brewing fresh coffee. The busy work helped take my mind off things.
Before I knew it, the bakery was bustling along like any other morning. The smiles, the banter with the customers, all of it surrounded me but I felt like an observer rather than a participant. I wondered if I’d feel this miserable forever. It really felt like I would.
Jason had never loved me, or he wouldn’t have deceived me. I’d thought he was the perfect catch, but if that had been true, he never would’ve lied to me. So, why did ending things with him leave a hole in my chest?
Everyone around me kept going on like normal, but I felt like a zombie.
By mid-morning, several cups of coffee had still not increased my energy level. But being in contact with many sweet, warm, and familiar people was somewhat comforting. I was so glad for my job here, for the extended family it gave me.
Even so, my hands shook as I closed the office door behind me and pulled the cell phone from my pocket. With people’s homes in the balance, the stakes were high, and I didn’t want to let everyone down. I called the historical society first. Just like jumping fast off a high dive into a pool. I knew the water would be cold, so best to get the jump over with quickly.
With my eyes closed and my fingers crossed, I waited for somebody to answer.
“Hello? You’ve reached the historical society. This is Alicia Wells. How may I assist you?” a woman’s voice came over the line.
I explained why I had called, and then waited breathlessly to see if they would help.
“We’re already on it,” Alicia told me in a crisp, energetic voice.
“Excuse me?” My eyes
flew open, because I had to be dreaming. Maybe I’d fallen asleep at the desk, which wouldn’t be surprising considering how little sleep I’d gotten.
“Those tunnels sound like a truly remarkable find.” The excitement in her voice came through the line, loud and clear. “Are you available to come to the park with us in the next day or two, to show us the way to the door? Once we get pictures and cordon off the area, we’ll give a media release as to why this historical find must be preserved. A tie-in with the situation at Founding Friendships would give them a boost, too.”
Would it ever!
However, I still felt about a mile out of my depth. “I’m a bit confused, Alicia. I apologize, but how do you know about all of this when I only just called you?”
“We received a message overnight from someone who contacted our lawyer, who we keep on retainer for issues such as this. The law firm already has the wheels turning and are planning to stop JCL with an injunction.”
“An injunction?” My spirits soared, even though I still wondered who had contacted them. I mean, Jason was the only other person who knew about the tunnels. But there was no way he would’ve called since that would hurt his plan to tear the building down and make lots of money. The pain of his betrayal made my stomach churn. “An injunction would be so wonderful! Thank you very much. I’d be happy to meet up in the park anytime. I’ll do whatever will help.”
“Let’s get together this evening,” she said, taking my number.
I urged her to call me with any questions or news. After we hung up, the wheels in my brain churned and then I called Bill.
“Hello?” he answered.
“Hi, Bill,” I said, my brow furrowing. “Did you call the historical society overnight about stopping the developer? Or, did you call a lawyer?”
“No. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“Well, somebody called and now lawyers are working their fingers to the bone.” I fingered the purple lock of hair, knowing the only person who could’ve called them was Jason. But why would he do such a thing? It made no sense. “Anyway, they are people who know better than we do how to stop the teardown of a building.”
“Without the teardown, the developer won’t want to go through with the purchase,” he said.
“Exactly! See? I told you this would work out.” I smiled, feeling lighter for the first time today.
“Oh, Avery.” He let out a shuddering sigh that went straight to my heart. “We couldn’t have done this without you.”
“Well, to be fair, the historical society is going to be doing a lot of it now. They are getting their people together along with some reporters and are meeting me by the entrance to the tunnels tonight. Do you want to come?”
He decided he would, and I promised to call him if I heard any more news.
I leaned back in my chair. It was all going to work out. And all I wanted to do was celebrate with Jason. “How messed up is that?” I whispered, staring at the ceiling. The same ceiling I used to wake up looking at when I’d been sleeping here in this office.
It occurred to be that I might still be living here if Jason hadn’t encouraged me to take the apartment I was falling deeper in love with every day. No matter what, I’d remember him every time I stepped foot through my front door. Talk about a knife through my chest.
My fault for dropping those walls around my heart.
But it sure had been an amazing time. And nice, and sweet.
And I missed him so much.
* * *
Bill looked about ready to jump out of his skin when I met up with him in the parking lot nearest the trail. “I feel like a kid on Christmas morning.”
“I know what you mean.” We walked the trail together and I explained everything leading up to that point, including the delivery of the newspaper clippings that had started it all.
“Who sent them to you?”
“I don’t have a clue.” I raised a hand in the air, shrugging. “Just like I don’t have a clue who called the historical society’s lawyer to get the ball rolling. I wish I did. I would like to thank them.”
“I would like to kiss the person.”
I cracked up. “That’s a pretty bold statement!”
“Try me,” he deadpanned, and we laughed together. It was nice to hear him laugh.
When we arrived, we found a handful of people from the historical society and the local newspaper waiting for us. A photographer snapped a few shots of the not-hidden-anymore entrance to the tunnels, and we were introduced to a reporter named Samantha Moore.
“What gave you the notion to look for underground tunnels?” Samantha asked, holding her cell phone out toward me so she could record my answers.
I stared at the phone, feeling a little uncomfortable with the attention being focused on me. “I, um, came across a bunch of newspaper articles about rumored gold miners’ tunnels under a park near the Founding Friendships residence building. This made me think that if the tunnels stretched out to the building and if the gold miners had really lived there as it said in another article, then there could be historical significance that must be preserved.”
“Did you actually go down into the tunnels?”
“Yes.” I nodded, but talking about the tunnels felt wrong without including that Jason had been a part of it. He’d helped me every step of the way, even knowing he was the reason I needed to find a solution in the first place. It made no sense.
“Didn’t it occur to you that underground tunnels might be dangerous?”
“Maybe a little,” I said, remembering how protective Jason had been about my safety as we went through the entrance. A swift pain sliced my heart. I shook my head, trying to brush away the memory. “I knew there was a risk. But I love the Founding Friendships program and the people who live in the residence building. I didn’t have a choice.”
Bill shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe what we’d accomplished for them. I knew he felt the same way I did, wholeheartedly. He also knew about Jason’s involvement—on both sides of the issue. I couldn’t keep that from Bill, or let him think he could trust Jason still.
“The homeless people in the residence building have had hard breaks and deserve the chance to rebuild their lives, which the program helps them do—from housing, to education, to finding a job. There are children living at the residence, and older people, too. It could affect any of us, in fact . . .” I paused for a moment, surprised at what I wanted to say. “There was a point in my life that I was homeless.”
Samantha’s eyes widened. “Tell us about that.”
I proceeded to tell her about my experience being homeless, including the utter feeling of helplessness it brought, the shame of being different than the other kids at school, and even the shame of talking about it. But, as I relayed my story, I felt more and more comfortable talking to her about it. Relaying my story could help someone else, or it could help people care about helping those in need. So, why should I keep that experience to myself and pretend it had never happened?
I’d thought I’d become independent when I’d dyed my lock of hair purple, and in many ways I had by supporting myself financially. But, what about being free emotionally? Now, for the first time in my life, I felt comfortable revealing who I was—and the feeling lifted the last remnants of any wall around my heart. In large part, I owed this revelation to Jason, who had cared about me for exactly the person I was, all of my good times and the bad ones, too.
Or, at least I’d thought he cared about me. But he must’ve. . .
I was so confused.
Once the interview finished, Samantha thanked me and told me what a hero I was. Again, I felt the urge to tell her about Jason’s part in the find. Instead, I looked at the reporter, noticing that she and I seemed to be roughly the same age. She seemed like a bright, friendly person, too.
I touched her arm and pulled her aside. “Would you possibly do me a favor?” I asked.
She grinned. “I’ll try. What is it?”
“Please, don’t make me out to be a hero in your article.” My cheeks heated, but I felt determined to get this out. “I really only did what I felt was right. We want all of the attention driven toward the miners and what they must’ve gone through and what the homeless residents are going through now. Plus, how helpful the homeless outreach program is. If we could save the building, which now sounds like it will happen, then that’s what’s important.”
She shook her head. “You are really something.”
“Pardon?”
“Don’t take that the wrong way. It’s just that I’ve been working with the paper for a few years and most people want to focus a story on themselves. Their moment of fame, and all.”
“Well, this isn’t about me.” I looked to where the historical society Board of Directors had entered the tunnels with cameras and flashlights, just as Jason and I had only twenty-four hours ago. “Thank you for your help in telling this story.”
“We’ll have this in the paper tomorrow, first thing,” she promised. As she was leaving, she turned back and gave me a hug. “I’ll stay up all night to finish the article if I have to,” she said, her eyes shining as she waved goodbye.
It seemed like we’d found another ally for our cause. The addition would’ve been more reassuring if there weren’t a gaping hole without Jason. I missed him. Somehow I’d have to move on, even though my heart didn’t feel as if that were possible.
Chapter Sixteen
On Friday afternoon, only one day before the wedding, Melinda and I stood in Blissfully Bridal’s dressing room area for our final fittings. Mary Ann had tried on her dress this morning, and I just found out that Melinda’s dress fit perfectly, too. Now it was my turn to try my bridesmaid dress on. Again.
I’d spent all week painting my apartment with the help of my friend Sarah but I’d kept forgetting to eat since I’d lost my appetite. The result was that my beautiful bridesmaid dress had fit too loose, so the seamstress had to bring it in.
Sarah had been a huge help painting my apartment with me and I appreciated her support, but each brush stroke had reminded me that I’d planned on painting the apartment with Jason, who hadn’t called me once. I hadn’t contacted him either. What would’ve been the point? Our short-lived romance was over. O. V. E. R.
