“Carrie, I’m not you,” he said. “I’m not exactly what you’d call a people pleaser. I do what I want, when I want, unless absolutely forced. Even then, I usually end up doin’ my own thing anyway. My mom wanted you and me to work out ‘cause she knew I wanted it—even before I did. She just didn’t want me to give up on somethin’ ‘cause it seemed impossible. But this—us—is somethin’ I want. I want it bad.”
Carrie stared down at his t-shirt. “What about your grandma? She wanted us to be together before we even met.”
“Since when have I ever listened to my grandma?” he said in exasperation.
She opened her mouth to respond but then clamped it shut again.
With a slow smile, he wiped the moisture from her lower lashes. “Why have you never asked me who my perfect woman is?” She blanched, but he continued anyway. “She’s about 5’4”, gorgeous golden hair, blue eyes to drive a man wild, horribly self-conscious yet unbelievably selfless, adorable freckles, and a rose-colored view of the world that inspires me to—”
“You don’t have to do this, Greg.”
He kissed her again.
Probably shouldn’t have, but self-control wasn’t really his thing. This kiss was the kind that shot hot electricity all the way down to his toes. He could have kissed her forever, but he forced himself to stop long enough to ask, “Does that seem like a guy tryin’ to convince himself of anything?”
Her eyes struggled to open. “No.”
“Look, I know I was horrible to you when I first moved in, and obviously I ruin everything in my life, but my mom wanted us together because I wanted us together. She wanted me to be with somebody who inspired me to be a better person, but she also knew I needed a swift kick in the head ‘cause I’m stupid, remember? Real, real, real…”
The words caught in his throat as he remembered his mom’s rebuke, of the thousand times she’d told him to get his head on straight.
What would he do without those lectures now?
He tried to clear his throat, but it filled with cotton as he thought about how much his stupidity had cost him over the years—cost those he loved. Even now, Carrie struggled to believe he loved her because he’d pushed her away so many times.
Would it ever stop?
How was he supposed to do anything right ever again without his mom keeping him on track?
His eyes burned and he breathed deeply to clear his thoughts. He wasn’t going to do this. He wasn’t going to break down. Not here, and definitely not now.
“From the beginning, my mom knew I’d fall for you,” he tried again. “And now…”
And now she’d never know he was back, safe, alive, and doing what he should have long ago. She wouldn’t be around to see him and Carrie end up together—or worse, tell him to keep fighting when Carrie rejected him. His mom was gone, and it killed on so many levels, he didn’t know how to process it.
He pinched his burning eyes shut. Hot tears had no business intruding on this moment.
“And now…” he said, voice growing ragged.
For the life of him, he couldn’t finish.
Carrie grabbed his good arm and pulled it around her. She wrapped herself against his chest like a cocoon.
“I miss her, too,” she whispered.
Greg broke down. The worst possible moment for his emotions to hijack him, but they spilled over. Carrie held him close and squeezed him harder than his broken body could handle. When the worst of it passed, he stroked her warm hair, feeling bad he got it wet.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
She tipped her head back and looked up at him with those deep blue eyes. “I love you, Greg. I’m sorry I’m so dense, but with everything with Oliver, the paperwork, your mom, and now Ferris, it’s just…it’s a lot. And now I can’t seem to…to…”
Commit.
Believe him.
He put a finger to her soft lips. “It’s alright. You don’t have to decide anything. I’m back, and we’ve got all the time in the world to figure us out. I just don’t want you to doubt where I stand. But I swear I won’t pressure you into anything—or at least, I’ll try not to,” he added with a smile. Because for once in his life, he’d be patient and do things right. He’d win Carrie back.
But first, he had to let her sort through her fake marriage.
“I promise to give you time,” he said. “After everything I’ve put you through, I owe you that much.”
Her eyes lit up, quickly followed by the rest of her, making her glow in the morning sun. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.” Then she turned and looked over her shoulder. “We should probably get back.”
Nodding, he clutched his walking stick and started off beside her.
Time.
Carrie needed time.
“Just to be clear,” he said, “what exactly is allowed while you’re sortin’ all this out? Can I do, say, this?” He snagged her hand and threaded his fingers through hers. “Or is that too pushy?”
She smiled. “No. It’s fine.”
He squeezed her hand. “And…how about another kiss, just for good luck?”
With a blush, she shook her head.
“Fine,” he relented.
They walked the rest of the way home, hands entwined, discussing Ferris and what it meant going forward if their clan couldn’t find anybody to trade with. He kept stealing glances at her, trying to capture this image of her forever in his mind. He should have paid better attention to what she said, but he kept thinking of those stolen kisses and where the future might take them.
When they neared his backyard, her hand slipped from his.
“Was it somethin’ I said?” he asked, only half-teasing.
“No.” She tucked a golden lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m just not ready for the whole world to see us together. Do you mind?”
“No.”
Mostly.
Her cheeks still looked flushed. While he wanted to believe it was his amazing kissing abilities, he knew she’d taken losing her friend and her mom’s friend hard.
“You gonna be okay?” he asked, stroking her warm cheek. “You look worried. You’re kinda wincing, too.”
“Sorry. I didn’t sleep much last night,” she said, rubbing her forehead. “I just don’t know what to tell Brooke. Not that I’ll ever see her again, but still…”
He slipped an arm around her waist, appreciating the curves of her back. Then he pressed his lips to her warm forehead. “It will be okay. You’ll see. Oh, wait,” he said, leaning back a little. “Is that kind of kiss still allowed?”
“No,” she said, but yet she leaned into him. Her eyes closed, and her hand rested on his chest, so he pulled her tightly against him and kissed her forehead again, kicking himself for cutting off the other kind of kissing. Already he craved her soft lips, but he forced himself to behave.
As she started to pull away, he tightened his grip.
“Don’t go,” he whispered.
“I have to. Amber and Zach are probably wondering where I am.”
Slipping out of his grasp, she started up around the side of his house. He followed, too addicted to do otherwise. When she reached the street and saw him still following her, she shook her head with a rueful smile.
“Spend time with your grandparents, Greg, before May kills me for stealing you all morning.” She waved. “See you tonight at the adult meeting.”
His mind said, I gotta wait that long to see you? while his mouth said, “Y’all still do those?”
“Yes. I’m sure everyone is anxious to hear what happened to you.”
He dreaded reliving the story again, but hopefully if he told them all at once, that would be the end of it.
“Alrighty,” he relented. “See you tonight. By the way, you still owe me a walk around the pond. Maybe after the meeting?”
She didn’t say yes, but neither did she say no. She just smiled her radiant smile again.
Close enough.
“I’ll save you a spot at the m
eeting,” he called. Then he winked at her, not caring who might see.
As she crossed her wild front yard, he wondered what she’d do if he jogged up on her porch and kissed her in front of the world. Probably smack him.
He was still tempted.
Greg’s grandma was only mad that he’d disappeared until she found out who he had disappeared with. Then all was forgiven. Before he could escape to catch up on projects with Richard, his grandpa handed him an envelope.
“Oliver delivered this while you were gone,” his grandpa said.
Tensing, Greg broke the seal and slipped out a half sheet of paper.
TO THE FAMILY OF: Gregory Curtis Pierce :
We regret to inform you that your son was killed in the performance of his duty and service to his beloved United States.
Remains buried locally.
Condolences,
Commander McCormick, Special Patrols Unit
Shuddering, Greg realized he’d barely beat this letter home. What would have happened if he hadn’t pressed hard to arrive last night? Probably heart attacks for both grandparents and who knew what for Carrie.
“Good news?” his grandpa asked.
“Yeah.” Greg handed it over.
His grandpa paled as he read. “Goodness. No wonder Oliver looked so distraught. Poor Oliver.”
Greg didn’t feel too sorry for the patrolman, not after seeing Carrie’s reaction to her marriage.
As the adults began arriving at his grandparents’ house that evening, Greg noticed everybody seemed to be in good spirits. He’d avoided most questions as he worked with Richard throughout the day, saying he’d explain things at the meeting. Maybe Carrie hadn’t told anyone about Ferris either.
When Carrie walked in, she looked worse than before with a sad, blank stare, but that dissolved the moment she spotted Greg standing against his wall. Her eyes brightened with a smile she tried to hide.
He pointed to the couch where he’d asked his grandma to save a seat. If it hadn’t meant somebody else had to stand for the meeting, Greg would have squeezed next to Carrie on the couch, maybe even held her hand if she’d let him, but he stayed leaned against his wall, watching her.
The second Carrie sat, his grandma chatted away a mile a minute. From the way Carrie ducked her chin, Greg could guess the topic well enough. For once he didn’t mind his grandma snooping into his love life. He loved watching Carrie squirm up answers.
“I think we’re ready to start,” his grandpa said, a cue for Greg to wipe the grin off his face. “Richard, can you open the windows in the kitchen to get some air flowing through here?” Then his grandpa turned to Carrie on the couch. “Any updates from Oliver?”
“No,” Carrie said. “Oliver didn’t stop by today, so I assume there’s no raid this week.”
Raid? Greg echoed. Carrie was the only person he knew who still called it a sweep, its official term. Or she had been until this morning.
“Actually,” CJ said, “Oliver dropped something off for Greg this morning. He said there’s no raid this week, but I wasn’t sure if he’d mentioned anything else to you, maybe during your dinner out on Monday?”
“Oliver came this morning?” Carrie’s eyes flickered to Greg. “Amber didn’t say anything about him stopping by. I must have missed him.”
“Doesn’t sound like you missed him too badly,” Sasha said, fanning herself idly. “Have a nice walk?”
Carrie blushed as snickers erupted around the room. Greg’s grandma patted Carrie’s hand in congratulations, and Greg had to study his feet to keep from grinning again. With the world falling apart, he really should quit smiling. His emotions felt bipolar, swinging from one side of the pendulum to the next. A relationship—one that wasn’t even all that solid—shouldn’t have this much effect on him. Then again, he was alive, home, free, and had a chance with Carrie. Nothing else seemed to matter anymore.
“Well,” his grandpa said, “if there’s nothing else, I think most of you are anxious to hear from Greg. If it’s alright, Greg, I’d like you to fill everyone in on where you’ve been and what it might mean for us. Don’t water it down either.”
Sobering quickly, Greg made his way to the front. The room was hot and muggy, reminding him of summers in North Carolina. People fanned themselves while he started. He recounted his experience training, the government’s plans for infiltration, the state of the rebellion, and how he was able to return, including the letter Oliver had delivered today. Then he decided they needed to hear about Ferris as well.
He looked at Carrie. “Wanna take the reins? You know more about the Ferris situation than I do.”
She shook her head.
That left him to explain the empty clan, Carrie’s dead friend, Scott, the burned home, and Oliver’s hand in it. Carrie kept her gaze on the floor as he spoke, and everybody else went silent.
“I’m thinkin’ we need to build up our defenses here,” Greg said. “Maybe start posting guards again, even with Oliver. I still hope there are other clans around Shelton. Maybe we should go down the list of potentials.”
“But Ferris was our last chance at a decent-sized clan,” Terrell said. “Even if there are others still out there, who knows if they’ll be hostile or lead us into more trouble. The last thing we need is some crazed rebels like that Scott guy bringing the wrath of the government down on our heads.”
“The wrath of the government is coming either way,” Carrie said softly.
Greg nodded. “And I think we need allies, just in case. In my mind, the benefits still outweigh the risks.”
“I agree,” Richard added. “If it wasn’t for Greg and Oliver, we would be in the dark about this civil war. Perhaps our neighbors are as unaware as we had been. I feel it is our responsibility to warn them about what might be coming.”
“And possible spies tryin’ to infiltrate their clans,” Greg added. “Everybody agree that reaching out is still in our best interest?”
Sasha raised her hand. “Before we decide that, Greg, can we go back to the Ferris Clan? You said they left things behind: clothes, food, and that kind of stuff. Shouldn’t we go through their homes and find what we can?”
“No!” Carrie blurted.
Startled, Greg turned. So did the rest of the room.
“Why not?” Sasha said. “Times are desperate. If they left stuff behind, maybe we could—”
“They didn’t just walk away,” Carrie said. “They were arrested. Taken against their will.”
“Right. So…they’re not coming back,” Sasha said.
Carrie’s jaw tightened but she didn’t elaborate. So Greg did.
“From the little we saw,” he said, “most of the stuff was broken or trashed. I’m sure the patrolmen already took all the good stuff.”
“Still…” Sasha glanced around the room. “If we look hard enough, we could probably find tools, clothes, and who knows what else. How thorough are patrolmen anyway?”
A quiet rumble started as people considered that. Greg watched Carrie, waiting for her to speak up. She’d seen the homes, the items, and the damage. But she stared down at the floor, hands clasped in her lap.
“What do you think, Carrie?” Greg urged from ten feet away.
People quieted down.
Carrie pushed herself up to stand. Her sad eyes roamed the room as if counting the cost of each person. But when her gaze went back to Greg, she said, “Actually, I think I might head home. Do you mind?”
“What?” Greg said. “Now?”
His grandma tugged on Carrie’s faded work shirt. “We need you, dear. You were there. We want to hear what you think.”
Carrie rubbed her arms, looking cold in the hot room. Now that she was standing, she looked white as a sheet, making Greg worry that this was affecting her physically and not just emotionally.
“I know times are desperate, Sasha,” Carrie said. “But those people were our friends and neighbors. If we go into their homes and take what doesn’t belong to us, then we’re no bett
er than the patrolmen who raid ours. Which is fine. It is. But I would hope to never hear another word about ‘low-life patrolmen’ again.”
Greg stared at her in shock. So did the rest of the room. Quiet Carrie Ashworth just put bossy Sasha Green in her place. Rather pointedly, too.
Sasha didn’t even bat an eye. “What about the boys? Jenna hardly had clothes for Little Jeffrey and Jonah in the summer, let alone winter. The kids in the clan go barefoot to save their shoes that will be too small by winter anyway. It’s madness, Carrie. Do you…” Sasha’s voice broke. “Do you realize who I used to be? What I used to wear? Now look at me.” She held out her arms as if people hadn’t memorized the stains in her Banff National Park shirt.
“I know,” Carrie said, “but what if that was us? How would we feel to have our neighbors come in and steal the last of our things? Are we scavengers now, too?” Her shoulders lifted. “Maybe we would understand, and maybe the Ferris Clan would, too, but I’m not that desperate. Not yet. I still hope they’ll return to their homes someday—maybe someday soon if this rebellion takes hold. I’d hate for them to come back to nothing.”
With that, she turned and met Greg’s stunned gaze. “Sorry to leave early. You already know my vote.”
Again, Greg was struck by how drawn she looked. “Can I walk you home?” he asked. “No offense, but you don’t look too hot.”
“Ouch,” Dylan called. “That’s no way to treat your lady.”
Carrie didn’t seem to hear. “No, I’m fine. Stay and finish your meeting.”
Before Greg could argue, Braden jumped up and started climbing over people. “I’ll walk you home, Carrie. I need to head that way anyway.”
“I’m fine,” Carrie protested. “Really.”
“Ah, Carrie,” Terrell called, “give Braden a glimpse of Amber.”
Nodding, she took in the room one last time. “I know I should stay, but I’ll understand whatever decision you make.” She turned to Sasha. “I really will.”
forty-seven
Citizens of Logan Pond Box Set Page 76
