Chapter 3 #3
Sleeping in meant I wasn’t tired. I vacuumed, cleaned the windows, and channel surfed. Death by boredom. Boredom did have amazing sedative properties, though. By nine, I lay in my bed curled on my side.
Mom faced Dad with her hands on her hips. “I refuse to keep this from her.”
Dad wiped his hand over his face. I could read his weary frustration and his adoration. Mom always got her way.
“Diana, it wasn’t supposed to be possible. We don’t know what it means for her. All I’m suggesting is that we wait until we know. You said she smells like me.”
I stepped around the corner, my blanket trailing behind me. “Mama?”
She turned toward me with a smile and scooped me up into her arms. “Come on, bug. You belong in bed.”
She tucked me in and kissed my cheek. When she pulled away, it wasn’t my mother’s face but Chuck’s.
“You were mine from the start.”
I sat up in bed, heart hammering. A dream.
I hadn’t dreamt of my mom in a long time.
She’d died before I’d turned six. Had it not been for Chuck’s cameo, it would have made my week to recall her in such vivid detail.
I’d forgotten how dark her hair had been compared to mine.
I rubbed my face and glanced at the clock.
Three a.m. Too early to get up, but how could I go back to sleep after that.
Flinging back the covers, I got out of bed.
A snack might help. I made my way toward the kitchen and opened the fridge, but nothing looked good.
I checked the cupboards, listlessly studying the contents.
A jar of baby dills caught my eye. Why my father had purchased them, I had no idea.
But they looked good so I pulled them out.
The lid didn’t budge when I tried to open it.
I gave it my best effort. Even grunted a little and threw in a cuss.
“Give up already,” I mumbled, trying once more. If nothing else, I’d be tired by the time I got the thing open.
My apartment door burst open without warning. I froze. The jar of pickles was under my left arm and my right hand rested limp on the lid as I stared at Racer. What the hell was he doing up here in the middle of the night? Jeez, I was in my pajama shirt. Thankfully, it fell to just above my knees.
His eyes scanned the apartment then me. “What’s wrong?”
“Well, for starters, I think my door needs a lock.”
“I thought I heard a struggle.” His eyes fell on the jar under my arm.
A struggle? I racked my brain, going over in my head what I’d been doing. Nope, I’d been quiet. I was sure of it. Even my cussing had been quiet.
He stepped into the kitchen and closed the door behind him.
He moved toward me, stopping inches away, and held out his hand.
I handed over the jar, embarrassed it had defeated me.
He popped it open easily and handed it back, never taking his eyes from my face.
Oh sure, he had no problem opening it. I’d loosened it for him.
I reached in, picked a pickle, and popped it in my mouth. The salty tang should have tasted like sweet victory. Instead, it filled my mouth with confused speculation. I picked out another one and offered it to him. Wearing an exasperated expression, he reached for it with a shake of his head.
“So what exactly did you hear?”
“‘Give up already’ and some swearing and grunting.”
I crunched on another pickle then closed the jar as I studied him. He took the jar from me and put it in the fridge. His expression grew slightly uncomfortable as I continued to stare.
“The walls are thin,” he mumbled.
No, but the explanation was, and it almost made me smile. Maybe I wouldn’t need to ask questions to get the answers I wanted.
He must have noticed a change in my speculative expression because he started backing toward the door.
“See you in the morning,” he said quickly and let himself out.
I went to bed thinking of how he’d burst in. He’d been rumpled as if he’d just gotten out of bed. The t-shirt had been on inside out.
* * * *
In the morning, I was up at seven, showered and dressed.
I was bored and wanted to go somewhere. My choices were limited.
Should I walk around with Racer following me, or beg him to take me somewhere and have him follow me around in public?
Neither choice appealed to me, so I aimlessly wandered around the apartment.
“This isn’t going to work,” I whispered to myself.
As much as I wanted to find out the truth behind my mom’s letter, I didn’t want to spend any more time wallowing in boredom.
I either needed to find something I enjoyed doing or figure out how to get out without Racer knowing.
He heard me every time I set foot on the stairs.
How else could I leave? There were no trees near the windows.
At least, nothing I could use for climbing.
I’d checked. Maybe there was something on the outside of the house, a drainpipe, lattice, or something, that I couldn’t see from the inside.
I glanced at the kitchen door. Up to this point, I’d been mostly pacing in the living room.
Not lightly. I walked back to the bedroom and flopped on my bed.
Then, with care, I eased off the mattress and slowly tiptoed to the door.
Taking my time, I made my way quietly down the steps.
As soon as I hit the bottom step, his door opened.
Racer casually leaned a shoulder against the jam and folded his arms across his chest.
“Going somewhere?”
Drat the man. Just how good was his hearing? It didn’t really matter this time. I didn’t mean to try to escape right away. I wanted to see if there was another way out of the apartment.
“Yep,” I chirped and slid my feet into my shoes. As I bent to tie them, I noted he was in his socks. Good. He might just stay inside, then.
“Where?”
“Just walking around the house. Exploring the yard and getting some fresh air.” I opened the door. Free at last.
“I’ll throw on my shoes and be right out.”
I looked back over my shoulder and tried to keep my disappointment from my face. His expression gave nothing away, but he watched me closely. I nodded and closed the door.
How fast could I walk around the house without him? Looking up at the house, I walked quickly. Nothing to use on the front. Hurrying, I walked to the back. Nothing on the side or back. I made it to the front door just as he opened it. He didn’t seem surprised to see me.
“Do you know anyone selling a car? Something reasonably priced that won’t leave me stranded?”
He motioned for me to walk toward the back of the house. He walked beside me. “Need to go somewhere?”
“Not really. I just want to be able to go somewhere.” A gust of wind ruffled my hair, and I tried not to shiver.
I should have brought a jacket but I hadn’t meant to be outside for very long.
I glanced over at Racer. He’d been smart enough to throw one on.
He met my gaze, and I gave a small, innocent smile.
“Bored?”
“Beyond reason.” He brought us to the trees at the edge of the yard. I could see a faint trail. “What’s this for?”
“Walking. Mostly when I’m bored beyond reason.”
So he did more than just talk to cats. I looked at him again. This time he quirked a small smile at me. It was the first time I’d seen it, and my heart skipped a beat. I quickly averted my gaze before I ruined the moment by blushing. The narrow trail only allowed single file so he led.
“Who made the trail?”
“Deer mostly.”
Now that he was in front of me, I let myself shiver as I looked up at the tree canopy. I liked the sound the leaves made in the wind. If the wind blew hard enough, the rustling almost sounded like water. Racer stopped and shrugged off his jacket. Without a word, he handed it to me.
“I don’t need it,” I protested.
“You’re shivering. Take it and we can keep walking. Keep shivering and we go back.”
Reaching out, I took the jacket. He’d known I was shivering...
“Thanks,” I mumbled looking away as I put it on. It was still warm. His scent wrapped around me.
“Pancakes and pine trees,” I said aloud and then wanted to groan.
He turned and watched me closely. “Is that a good smell?”
“I wouldn’t have thought it a good combination, but it works. Makes me wish for pancakes and a walk in the woods.” I shrugged and looked around. “The walk I have. Got any pancakes on you?”
He smiled slightly again and turned to lead the way. We walked in silence for several minutes.
“Tell me about this guy who won’t leave you alone.”
“There’s not much to tell. We had a class together, and he asked me out.
We went on a date. He acted pretty normal, just a little clingy and possessive.
At the end of the date, he said that he hoped he could see me again.
I evaded giving him an answer by saying I had a nice time and that I would see him in class.
He left and didn’t seem upset by my non-answer.
The next day, he seemed fine again. We talked. It was normal. Life moved on.
“Then I started to notice him popping up in the same places I was. He tried calling me, but I never answered. When I went home, he followed me. My dad spotted him parked across the street. When I saw who it was, I had to give Dad the full story.” I didn’t know how well Racer knew my dad so I erred on the side of caution and skirted around why he hadn’t called the police.
“Being over the top protective, Dad decided I needed to go into ‘seclusion’. Personally, I think he invented the first ever daughter relocation program to avoid boy drama.”
“And you went along with that? Most teens would have just left.”
“I’m not most teens.”
When I looked up, I could see the house again through the trees. We’d walked a loop. I followed him out of the woods and slipped his jacket off.
“Thanks,” I said again.
“No problem.”
He took the jacket and stayed there as I walked toward the front of the house. It wasn’t until I was back up in my apartment that I recalled he never answered my question about a car.