The Light and Fallen

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The Light and Fallen Page 13

by Anna White


  She still felt some reluctance about going out with Jack, because on a deep level she felt that it was wrong to go out with one person when your heart was with another, but she shoved those scruples aside. Any thoughts she'd entertained about calling off the date or pretending she was sick were out of the question. If she didn't go now, then Lucian would think it was because of him. There was no way she was going to give him that satisfaction.

  The rest of the week flew by, almost as if the time had a mind of its own. Samara stood in front of her closet on Saturday evening and assessed her wardrobe with a critical eye. She hadn't worried about what she was going to wear when she went out with Lucian. She had been so consumed with eagerness to be with him that the clothes she wore were almost an afterthought. Going out with Jack was an entirely different scenario.

  Samara mentally ran down the list of girls he had dated since he started at West Wimberley. They were all thinner, taller, and to her eye, more beautiful. If she wasn't at least dressed well, then everyone at the party would be wondering why, after so many weeks, Jack had chosen to date her. Who am I kidding? she thought, as she looked around her bedroom in frustration an hour later. Discarded clothes draped across her bed and pooled onto the floor, and her closet was nearly empty. They're going to be wondering why he would ever go out with me anyway.

  She was sweaty and disheveled from pulling outfits on and off, and she felt totally out of her league. She sank to the floor cross legged and desperately wished that Carin and Bethanny hadn't gone out of town for the holidays. There was only one person left to ask for advice. "Mom!" she called. "Can you hear me?"

  "What are you doing?" Dina asked. She stuck her head into the room and looked at Samara sitting on the floor, and then at the clothes strewn around the room with a bemused expression.

  "I have a date tonight." Samara picked up an overturned shoe that was near her and tossed it toward the closet. "I would say I have nothing to wear, but that's obviously not true."

  "Is it with Lucian? I thought something had happened between the two of you."

  "No," Samara said. She felt a stab of pain as she remembered the exhilaration she'd felt the day after Homecoming, before she knew Lucian was going to remove himself from her life, and felt renewed determination to look incredible. Forget him, she told herself. She stuffed his memory back into the corners of her heart. You're going out with Jack, and you're going to have a great time if it kills you! "It's someone different," she said. "Someone from school."

  "Anyone I know?" Dina asked.

  Samara shook her head. "No, he's new this year."

  She wanted to avoid giving her mother any more information. She had a sense that Dina would disapprove if she knew the whole story. Instead, she opened her arms wide and gestured to the piles of clothes. "Help!" she pleaded.

  Together they picked out a pair of dark washed jeans and a fitted black sweater that brought out her eyes. Samara slipped on a pair of black ankle boots and hung a delicate silver bracelet on her wrist. "You look beautiful," Dina said as she evaluated the final look in the mirror on the back of her closet door. "It's hard to believe you used to be my baby girl."

  Samara swallowed a lump in her throat as she looked at her mom's reflection in the mirror. "I'm still your girl." She wrapped her arms around mother and let her head rest on her shoulder. She breathed in Dina's familiar scent as she stroked her hair. "We've got to stick together, right?"

  Dina stepped back and held onto Samara's shoulders. "Are you okay?" she asked.

  "Of course!" Samara lied. She turned her back to her mother and started picking up the discarded clothes and bringing them back to the closet. "Why wouldn't I be?" She rested her hand on the door frame and stared into the dark closet as she waited for a response.

  "Besides the obvious reasons," Dina said, "you look more resigned than happy right now, and that concerns me. If you don't want to talk I respect that, but I'm always here for you."

  Samara bit her lip. She was tempted to pour out her heart to her mother, but then she changed her mind. There was no point in rehashing what had happened with Lucian or the way she felt empty without him, no point in talking about how she missed his conversation and his touch so much that it was a physical ache. There was nothing her mom could say or do to make her feel better about being in love with someone who didn't love her back. She clenched her fingers around the edge of the door and shook her head, afraid that her voice would betray her if she tried to speak.

  She heard movement behind her as her mother picked up a few shirts from the floor and tossed them onto her bed. "Just be sure you're doing what you feel is right," Dina said. "And that you're doing it for the right reasons." She walked over and touched Samara's shoulder for a moment before she went out the door.

  Samara felt a rebellious tear spill over onto her cheek and wiped it away as she turned to study her face in the mirror. The eyes that stared back at her were red and hollow. She had cried more in the past year than she had in her entire life, and she wasn't sure how to stop.

  Unbidden, Lucian's voice echoed in her mind. "He's playing you…he doesn't want you." She shoved his negative words angrily aside and shook her long, thick hair out of its ponytail, letting it flow around her face and fan across her shoulders. Lucian was wrong. She might not be the prettiest girl at the party tonight, but she was sure she'd be the only one Jack had asked out three times.

  She didn't know what Jack's intentions were, or if he was nice, or what his history was with Lucian. She didn't know, and she didn't care. He had chosen her, and for tonight that was enough.

  Chapter 54

  Samara realized that she had gotten dressed too early. She still had hours to wait before Jack came to pick her up. She finished cleaning her room, and then pulled a novel off the shelf. She hoped that reading something might distract her. Her eyes moved over the words and her fingers turned the pages, but the ideas refused to stay in her mind. She felt empty, as blank as an unwritten page. By the time Jack finally knocked on her door she had passed 100 pages. She felt slightly calmer, and although she was still inwardly divided about going out with him, she was determined not to let it show.

  She pasted a huge smile on her face before she swung open the front door and greeted Jack with an enthusiasm that she didn't feel. "Hi!" she gushed, "I'm so glad you're here!"

  Jack opened his arms to give her a quick hug and she stepped into his body and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Their embrace only lasted a moment, but as she pressed into his chest she could feel the hardness of his body beneath her cheek. Jack stepped back and twirled her in a circle as he ran his eyes over her. "You look stunning," he said.

  Samara blushed as his eyes returned to her face. Their naked intensity made her feel undressed, and she shivered involuntarily. His look sparked a giddy sense of danger, and made her heart race as if she were walking along the edge of a precipice. A cold blast of December air brought her back to reality and she grabbed her jacket from the hook beside the door. "Mom," she called. "I'm leaving."

  Dina appeared in the entrance to the living room and Jack stepped forward to meet her. He smoothly extended his hand and met her eyes without a hint of nervousness. "Jack Stone," he said. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

  "Nice to meet you too." Dina looked over Jack's shoulder as she shook his hand and caught Samara's eye.

  She gave Dina a small smile that was meant to be reassuring and pulled on her jacket. "I'll be back later. Don't feel like you have to wait up."

  "Okay," Dina said, "but don't stay out too late. The weather is supposed to get bad tonight."

  "I promise I'll take care of her," Jack reassured her. "She's one of a kind."

  Samara wrapped her hand around Jack's cold fingers, and together they stepped out into the cold. The wind gusted around her with such force that she wondered if it would support her if she leaned against it. Jack kept her hand in a tight grip as he guided her down the steps to his car, a bright spot in the gray winter
landscape. She was relieved to settle into the warm leather seats and shut out the cold.

  She watched Jack though the windshield as he walked around the car, and she couldn't help thinking about the night of Homecoming. So similar, she thought, as she took in Jack's strong build and handsome face, yet so different. She felt a pang of longing for Lucian that took her breath away. She yearned to be in his faded truck listening to classical music while his thumb traced the contours of her hand.

  What am I doing? she thought. She fought back the sudden urge to run into the house and hide under the covers. Jack slammed his car door, and the sound jerked her back to the present. She forced her lips into a smile and leaned toward him across the console. "Let's go!"

  Chapter 55

  Jack pulled into a long, circular driveway filled with cars. It curved up to the front of an elegant white mansion that towered over its neighbors. The house looked like it was at least three stories high, and the lights glowing from every window chased away the early evening darkness. He parked at the end of the drive and chuckled at Samara's shocked expression. "Not what you expected?"

  "It looks like the entire school is here," she gasped. As she watched the front door of the house opened and revealed a throng of students inside, and she could see shadowy silhouettes moving through the upper floor windows. "Whose house is this?"

  Jack gave her a repentant look. "I have a confession to make."

  Samara continued staring at the house through the windshield. Anxiety flooded her chest as she contemplated the scene. She had tried to get into the mindset of a party, but this was beyond any of her expectations. "What kind of confession?"

  "Well…," Jack said, drawing out his words, "this is mine."

  "What do you mean yours?" she asked. She stared at him, uncomprehending.

  "This is my house." He smiled at her encouragingly, but she didn't respond. "I live here."

  Samara wasn't sure what to say. The entire situation felt completely surreal, as if she were trapped in a dream. "So this is your party?"

  "Yes. Does that make you uncomfortable?"

  "I'm just trying to understand," she said. She spoke slowly, choosing each of her words with care. "So you invited me to a party, that is actually your party, at your great, big, enormous house."

  "Correct," Jack nodded.

  "And then you left your own party to come and pick me up?"

  "Yes."

  "Why didn't you just tell me? I could have driven here myself."

  "But would you?" Jack asked. He gave her a knowing look. "I was afraid if I told you it was my party you would change your mind and not show up, and I wanted you to come."

  "I might've come," Samara admitted, "but I probably would've gotten to the driveway and then turned around and gone back home."

  "That's what I thought," Jack said. "I know this can be intimidating, especially if you're alone." He reached over and slid her hand over his right arm. "But tonight you're not alone." He gave her hand a quick squeeze. "You're with me."

  They walked up the driveway with Samara's hand threaded through Jack's arm. As they neared the house she could see a huge evergreen wreath on the front door and evergreen garlands hanging over the many windows. Jack pulled her a little closer as they walked up the front steps, and he reached for the front door. "Ready?" he asked.

  "As I'll ever be." She took a deep breath and braced herself as they stepped through the door. She expected to feel eyes on her, but she was pleasantly surprised to find that no one paid any attention to their entrance.

  "Do you want a drink?" Jack asked. He took her coat and hung it inside a small closet beside the front door.

  Samara nodded as she looked around the massive entry and up the gracefully curving staircase that led to an open second floor. "This is an amazing house."

  "Thanks," Jack said. "Although it actually belongs to Desiree.

  "Speak of the devil," he added, as one of the most stunning women Samara had ever seen approached. She was wearing a runched, red cocktail dress with long sleeves and a very short skirt, and her cutout heels made her only slightly shorter than Jack. She carried herself with the confidence of an older person, but her face was unlined, making her age impossible to guess.

  "Did someone mention the devil?" she drawled as she stopped in front of them. She crossed her arms and gave Samara an openly appraising look before she snapped her eyes toward Jack. "Aren't you going to introduce us?"

  "This is the lovely Samara Haye," he said, raising their joined hands. "And this," he said, "is my guardian, Desiree Stihls."

  "Your guardian?" The words caught Samara's attention and took her by surprise. "You have a guardian too?"

  "Indeed." Jack wrapped his free arm around Desiree's waist and planted a kiss on her cheek. "The best in the world."

  Desiree shook Jack's hand off with annoyance and turned to Samara. "I've heard a lot about you," she said. "And I must say, you're everything I expected." She gave Samara a brilliant smile that didn't quite reach her eyes before she turned her back on them both and disappeared among the guests.

  Samara turned to Jack with a quizzical look. "Is she okay with you having this party? She seems a little upset."

  "It's not the party," he said. He guided her through the crowded living room and into the kitchen. Samara waited for him to elaborate, but instead he led her over to a deep sink filled with ice and an assortment of bottles and cans. He thrust in both hands and pulled out a soda and a bottle of beer and held them both toward her. "What would you like?"

  Samara reached for the soda and Jack dropped the beer back into the sink and fished out a second soda for himself. "You don't drink?" he asked.

  Samara shook her head as she looked around the kitchen. Its gleaming counters were already littered with empty bottles and trash, and she could see a row of ice chests surrounding the island, providing a sharp contrast to the polished elegance of the house. "I guess I don't have enough things I want to forget," she shrugged.

  She felt Jack's hand gently touch her waist, and she let him guide her through the living room and up the wide stairs to the second floor. As they walked together Jack stopped often to greet his guests: classmates, members of the football team, even one of the younger teachers. He gave each one his full attention for a moment, and Samara watched them light up as he showered them with flattery and interest, but always, he returned to her side.

  She could sense a ripple of interest sweep the room as they climbed the stairs, and could see small groups of girls put their heads together and glance in her direction. She instinctively pressed a little closer to Jack and felt his nose nuzzle her ear as he turned his face into her hair. "Ignore them," he whispered.

  The second floor was just as crowded as the first. Everywhere Samara looked, she saw people that she knew. She tried to smile and make conversation, but the sensation of Jack's hand resting lightly on her hip was becoming distracting, and her fingertips were freezing, as if all of her warmth was being pulled inwards, toward the center of her body.

  She stepped away from him and leaned against the curved railing that overlooked the first floor and stared down at the scene. A sparkling tree dominated the room. Its top reached beyond the edge of the balcony and brushed against the vaulted ceiling of the living room. It was completely covered with white lights and emanated a faint, spicy fragrance. Beside the tree a large open fireplace was blazing, and she could see a few boys roasting giant marshmallows on metal skewers. The whole space was massive and filled with groupings of expensive looking furniture. The front door opened and closed constantly as people arrived late or exited to smoke on the front steps.

  Her skin prickled as she skimmed the room, and her eyes rested on Desiree. She was standing apart from everyone else, lounging against the wall with a glass of wine in her hand, arms and ankles crossed. She stood out from the crowd in her red dress, and she was looking straight at Samara. When she caught her eye, Desiree didn't look away or even blink. Her relaxed posture w
as the picture of indolent boredom, but her eyes burned with hatred. She stood perfectly still, ignoring a group of giggling girls that blundered by and nearly bumped her elbow, and Samara shuddered at the raw hostility in her stare.

  Chapter 56

  Then Jack was beside her. He followed her gaze over the balcony to the floor below and made an angry sound in the back of his throat. Desiree looked up at them both, then raised her glass contemptuously and disappeared from view.

  "Okay," Samara said, feeling a little shaken. "Is it my imagination, or does she seem to really dislike me?"

  "She's just a little temperamental, but I don't want you to worry about it." Jack rubbed her shoulders reassuringly. "Come on."

  They maneuvered down a wide hallway lined with dark paneled doors on each side. Some were standing open, revealing even more people, while others remained closed. Jack stopped in front of one of the last closed doors and pulled a ring of keys out of his pocket. He flipped quickly through the keys, passing over several that looked shiny and new, and stopped on one that appeared burnished with age. He slipped the key into the lock and Samara heard a thunk as he turned it to the right.

  The door swung open to reveal a small room lined with bookshelves. The ceiling and the parts of the wall that could be seen were draped with gold brocade, and the floor was covered with a plush carpet. The bookshelves framed a large plate glass window and a deep window seat directly across from the door. The only other pieces of furniture in the room were a rolling ladder attached to a rail that circled the tops of the shelves, and a low walnut table piled with books.

  Jack flipped a switch beside the door and the room was flooded with soft light that came from the tops of the bookcases. Samara's feet sank into the carpet as she took her first step into the room. "Wow," she said. "This is amazing."

 

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