Sweet Dandelion

by Micalea Smeltzer

  I grab a water and use the bathroom before slipping back into my bed.

  I’m surprised when I fall right to sleep, with no fitful turning, or visions of things I’d rather not relive.

  I wake up late, almost noon time, and find Sage sitting on the couch.

  He looks up when he hears me and turns down the volume on the TV. He gives me a small, forced smile. His eyes are sad. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “Thank you.” I cross the room, plopping on the couch beside him. “I think I needed it.” I also think the time spent in Lachlan’s arms helped me get the best sleep I’ve had in a very long time that wasn’t drug induced from the hospital.

  “Hungry?” Sage questions, looking at the smart watch clinging to his wrist. “We can go get brunch. I know a great place—”

  I can’t help smiling. My brother, the foodie who has no idea how to cook, but knows the best places to eat.

  “Brunch sounds good. Maybe we could go somewhere after? A market?”

  Sage smiles at me, his eyes a little brighter. “Yeah, we can do that, D.”

  I think he needs a distraction today as much as I do. It’s not about forgetting what happened that day, or our mom, but finding a way to keep our heads above water.

  “I’ll get ready.” I hop up, and go take a shower.

  I blow-dry my hair since I don’t want to be outside with wet locks. I bundle up in some of my warmest clothes—a pair of dark wash jeans, a black turtle neck with a chunky gray sweater over it, and I top it all off with a beanie. Once I put my coat on I dare the cold to try and touch me.

  When I come out of my room, Sage chuckles at my attire. “Cold?”

  “Nope, I’m nice and toasty. Gonna stay that way too.” I stick my tongue out at him.

  It’s easier to be playful than to give into the painful sadness I know is going to come back. Lachlan helped keep it at bay, but his magical powers can’t last forever. So, for now, I keep my brave face. Sometimes we have to wear a mask to get through things, fake it until you make it.

  Sage shrugs into his black pea coat, while I do the same. I also tug on my mittens.

  We head down to the garage and get into Sage’s car. The drive to wherever he’s taking me only lasts fifteen minutes tops. He pulls into the parking lot and tells me to follow him.

  We end up at a small café on the bottom level of a high rise. It’s the kind of place easily overlooked, but the smells wafting from it are incredible. My tummy rumbles in response.

  We’re seated at a booth and menus handed to us.

  “What should I get?” I ask Sage who has already slid his menu to the edge of the table.

  I place mine down, waiting for his answer. “The French toast, for sure—the cinnamon one. It’s phenomenal. And get the orange juice. It’s freshly squeezed.”

  I give a small laugh. “How about you order for me?” I suggest, arching a brow.

  He rubs his lips, hiding a smile. “Deal.”

  A waitress appears moments later, as if she senses we already know what we want. Sage rattles the order off to her, which is easy since it’s the same for both of us.

  When she’s gone, Sage stares across the table at me. His eyes are sad and as I look him over, I realize how much my brother has aged in the last year. He’s young, sure, but there are slightly visible lines by his eyes and the sides of his mouth that weren’t there before. The stress and worry has taken a toll on him.

  “How are you today?” He winces and shoves his fingers through his hair. “That sounds generic, but I mean it.”

  I don’t know the best way to answer him. I don’t want to lie and make it seem like I’m a-okay, but I don’t want to worry him any more than I already do.

  I shrug out of my coat to give myself a moment to compose myself and come up with an answer. “Not good, but better than I thought I’d be,” I settle on. It’s true too. I thought I might end up curled in a ball, thinking of the terror, of my mom, my friends, of the innocence that was robbed that day.

  Sage nods, his tongue sliding out to moisten his lips. He only does that when he’s nervous or bothered by something. “I keep trying to imagine what that day was like for you, and God, Dani … it kills me inside to think about what you survived.”

  I close my eyes, blocking out the images that only hours ago I shared with Lachlan. “Don’t think about it, Sage. Please.”

  He continues, undeterred. “Getting that call…” He pauses, shaking his head. He looks pained, sick to his stomach. “It was the scariest moment of my life.” He looks utterly heartbroken relaying this. “I think I blacked out. The next thing I knew I was getting off a plane in Portland, on my way to the hospital. You were still in surgery, but I kept telling myself you’d sense I was there. I needed you to pull through more than I needed anything else.”

  “Sage.” Tears fill my eyes, spilling over. I reach across the table, placing my hand over his. He flips his over, squeezing mine.

  “You have no idea how terrified I was. I thought my entire family was gone.”

  I close my eyes, my whole body shuddering. I hate thinking of anything to do with what happened, but that day and the days immediately following were some of the worst. When I was first told I might never walk again, my first thought was that I’d rather have died. Looking back, I know that was a selfish thing to think, but I thought my life couldn’t be fulfilling. I was naïve and angry.

  Sage clears his throat, leaning back in the booth. “I’m glad I have you, D.”

  I don’t have words for him, so I simply smile and hope it’s enough.

  The market he takes me to is indoors, which is ideal considering the cold weather, and huge. It spans thousands of square feet as far as I can see.

  We stay together, because even with cell phones if we split up it would be hard to find one another.

  “What are you looking for?”

  I glance up at him, surprised he’s noticed my intense scanning. “I’m not sure.” I shrug, my eyes roaming the tables we pass. “But I’ll know it when I see it.”

  He jerks his head in a nod and we keep moving.

  There is an overwhelming amount of stuff on display, from things that look more like junk, or yard sale items, to nice items like antiques and handmade creations.

  We’ve been looking nearly an hour, and I can sense Sage getting tired since he loathes this kind of thing, when I finally spot what I’ve been looking for.

  Well, I wasn’t looking for this item in particular, just something that reminded me of our mom. For the last year I’ve tried not to think about her, and hidden reminders away, but today I’m choosing to remember by getting something I know she’d love.

  “Dani, where are you going?” Sage calls after me.

  I hadn’t even realized I was moving away from him.

  I stop at the booth, my fingers gliding over the handmade wind chimes. They’re decorated with flowers, yellow and white hand painted blossoms, as well as three-dimensional ones made from wire. It’s stunning and someone had to spend a lot of time making it. My mom loved nature. She loved gardening and digging her hands in the dirt. She always said outside was where she belonged, wild and free like the birds and flowers, and that the wind chimes she collected were the music of her soul. She had so many of them, hanging from the back porch, trees, anywhere she could put one.

  “This is it,” I announce to Sage when he joins me.

  He gives me a quizzical look. “A wind chime?”

  I wet my lips, suddenly nervous. I don’t want to make him mad or upset. “It’s for Mom. I want to get something for her today.”

  Sage’s features soften and he gives me a sympathetic look. “Yeah, D, of course.”

  Sage bargains with the guy and buys the wind chime for me. The guy wraps it up carefully so it doesn’t get damaged and hands it to me in a brown paper bag.

  I clutch the bag to my chest, like I have to protect it, as we plow our way through the crowd to the parking lot on the opposite end.
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br />   Nothing is said, but Sage heads back to his condo.

  Once inside I turn to him. “Do you mind if I keep it in my room?”

  He shakes his head. “It’s yours. You picked it.”

  I give him a grateful smile and head down the hall to my room. I lay the bag down so I can take my coat and boots off. The apartment is toasty warm and I don’t want to sweat to death.

  Carefully, I unwrap the chimes. They brush against each other, echoing through my room.

  Standing on my tiptoes I lean over my bedside table, hanging it on a nail that was already in perfect place to let the chimes dangle in the corner of the large window.

  Stepping back, I clasp my hands and smile.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Hey.” Ansel falls into step beside me in the school hall. “I got the okay from my parents that you and your brother can come to our house for Thanksgiving.”

  I don’t tell him, but I completely forgot about his invite. “Oh, um, yeah—tell them thank you for me. I’ll ask Sage if he’s cool with that.”

  “You didn’t reply to my texts this weekend,” he says in a lower voice. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.” When I don’t respond right away he gently grabs my elbow and tugs me into an alcove. “Dani, talk to me.”

  “It sucked. I’m not going to lie, it isn’t easy.”

  He ducks his head, trying to force me to meet his gaze. “I’m here for you, Dani. Or I’m trying to be, at least.”

  “I know.”

  He frowns, his eyes narrowing on me. “I’m not sure you do.” The warning bell chimes and he grimaces. “I have to get to class. I’ll see you later.”

  He stares at me for a second too long and a shocked breath passes through my lips when he kisses my cheek. Before I can do anything he’s already gone, headed in the opposite direction.

  I press a hand to the spot he kissed me.

  What the hell?

  Lachlan sits at his desk, his head bent over some kind of papers or forms he’s inspecting closely. His head jerks up in surprise as I flounder inside, closing the door behind me. I’m out of breath, having hurried here as fast as I could, which is a pretty difficult feat.

  His confusion quickly melts into worry. “Are you okay? Why are you here? It’s not time for you to be here, right? Did I lose track of time?” He mutters the last part to himself.

  “N-No,” I stutter, my back against the door.

  His eyes narrow and he stands slowly, his palms flat on his desk. “You’re supposed to be at lunch.”

  “I-I … I had to come here,” I blurt, the confusion and anxiety rattling around inside me.

  “Why?” His voice is deep, hesitant. I think he’s afraid of my answer.

  “I can’t have lunch with my friends today,” I hiss.

  “Why not?” He crosses his arms over his chest. The way he’s looking at me I know he’s dissecting my words and posture, trying to figure out what has me so rattled.

  “Because,” I hold a hand to my chest, “Ansel kissed me.”

  Lachlan’s lips part. “What?” He looks surprised and I don’t know whether I should be offended or if his surprise is for another reason.

  “It was my cheek,” I admit in a hushed tone, “but I got the feeling he wanted to kiss more than my cheek.” I cover my face with my hands. “I am not equipped to handle this.”

  Lachlan’s jaw ticks. “Do you have lunch?”

  “N-No.” Great, I’m back to stuttering. “I came straight here. I couldn’t risk running into him or my other friends.”

  Lachlan rubs his stubbled jaw. “I’m going to go grab us something to eat. You…” He waves a hand at me. “You stay here.”

  I open my mouth to argue, but he easily moves around me and is out the door.

  It clicks closed behind him, leaving me all alone.

  I take my backpack off, setting it on the ground. My coat comes off next. I rarely stop to use my locker, unlike a lot of other kids, so I carry what I need with me at all times.

  Walking over to the window, I gaze outside at the small snow flurries tumbling down through the sky. There’s a light dusting on the ground but I have a feeling it’ll be gone by the time we leave today. It doesn’t matter, though, a heavy snowfall is around the corner I’m sure.

  I walk around, realizing this is the first time I’ve been alone in his office. I can’t help but snoop a little. Stepping around behind his desk, I sit down, taking in everything on his desk—what he thinks is important enough to have within arm’s reach.

  There are several pens, white and gold in color. I pick one up, turning it over in my fingers. I shouldn’t do it, it’s completely irrational, but I slip one into the pocket of my jeans.

  There are two more family pictures, one of him and his sister at what looks like a concert, and the other is of him with his parents at the Seattle Space Needle.

  I study the picture closer. He’s a lot younger in it, maybe sixteen.

  My finger glides against the glass, my eyes widening at a figure in the background of the photo.

  I recognize the bright pink shirt.

  There was a melting ice cream cone on the front.

  I wore it all the time when I was seven—so often my mom swore she was going to throw it away so I’d be forced to wear something else. She never did.

  The image of my face is grainy due to the distance, but I know it’s me. My hand is clasped in my mom’s, she’s turned away from the camera and I remember her yelling at Sage for walking away. But he was fourteen and didn’t want to be seen with us. It wasn’t cool to have his mom chaperone his school trip and for his little sister to tagalong.

  My eyes move back to Lachlan in the photo, the teenage boy version of him, with a crooked smile, and youthful innocence. His face is bare of any trace of stubble and there’s mischief in his eyes.

  I feel confused, my heart stuttering behind my rib cage, because how is it possible that Lachlan and I crossed paths so many years ago?

  My chest grows tight and I realize I’m holding my breath.

  I loose it, inhaling a fresh lungful of air.

  In another plane of time, Lachlan and I existed, for one fleeting moment, in the same place.

  Now, here we are today.

  The door to his office opens and I drop the photo. It glances off the desk, dropping to the floor where a crack appears down the middle.

  I drop to my knees to grab it.

  “S-Sorry,” I stutter as he enters with food. I stand back up, the frame clasped in my hands. “I was looking. I didn’t mean to break it.”

  “It’s fine.” He sets the food down on his desk, not at all bothered by my snooping.

  He holds out his hand for the photo but I can’t give it back right away.

  I look at the girl in the corner, that innocent child who had no idea what was ahead of her or who was standing a mere few feet away from her—the man who would one day consume her heart, body, and soul.

  “Dani?” he prompts, angling his head and trying to see what I’m so captivated by in the photo.

  I hand it back to him with another mumbled apology. He holds the frame, looking at the picture like he’s trying to figure out what had me raptured.

  I’m not about to tell him it’s me in the photo.

  He sets it back down, but from his frown I know he’s still trying to puzzle it out.

  With a shake of his head, he picks up one of the sandwiches and passes it to me. “I got a couple bags of chips since I didn’t know what you like.”

  I look at the bags of chips on his desk and swipe the salt n’ vinegar ones. I’m not hungry anymore, but I know I need to make an effort to eat something.

  I sit down in my usual spot, crossing my legs under me. It’s not the most comfortable position, but I make do.

  Lachlan’s eyes feather over me. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “The picture?” I blurt, my eyes shooting up in surprise.

  He
glances at the frame and back to me with a bewildered expression. “No,” he shakes his head, unwrapping the sandwich, “about Ansel. You seemed really upset when you got here.”

  In my shock over the photo I’d completely forgotten about Ansel and the kiss.

  “I overreacted.” I open the bag of chips, digging through it to pick out one that’s curled. “It was only my cheek.”

  He frowns. “But you were upset.”

  “Because I was surprised.” My eyes meet his reluctantly. Lachlan is probably the last person on the planet I should be having this conversation with considering we shared an actual kiss. “I … Ansel is my friend but I think he wants more.”

  “And you don’t?”

  I continue to stare at him. “No.”

  “Why?”

  The bag crinkles in my hand. “I like someone else.”

  He sits back, clasping his hands—his sandwich and unopened chips abandoned on the desk. “Dani—”

  I shake my head, not wanting to hear what he has to say. “You don’t have to say anything. I know it’s wrong. I know…” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I know nothing can happen … again, but I won’t deny my feelings. Not when I’ve been numb for way too long.”

  His blue eyes soften, the raging blue waters suddenly still. He looks like he wants to say more, but he presses his lips together.

  We eat in silence.

  The bell rings, ending lunch.

  And still, we sit in silence.

  There’s nothing else that can be said.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “I can’t believe I agreed to this,” Sage grumbles, re-tucking his pale blue oxford shirt into his pressed navy pants. “Thanksgiving with Ansel.” He sneers the name, making a face along with it. “I’d rather have dinner with a pack of hyenas.”

  Sighing from my perch on the barstool, I say for the thousandth time, “We don’t have to go.”

  He places his hands on his hips, narrowing his eyes on me. “Well, I agreed. Can’t exactly back out now.”

  “You didn’t have to say yes,” I remind him with a pointed finger.