Authors: Laurie Boyle Crompton
Sparky looks surprised but follows him anyway. They start jogging up the path and the rest of us are forced to follow. Miss and Rita struggle to keep up, but Polly and Frank fall even farther behind. I'm pushing myself to catch them, but Pierce is a strong runner even without his jogging prosthetic.
He clearly wants to get away from me and is dragging poor Sparky along with him. The heavy sheets of rain finally ease up a little and I'm able to see more clearly as I plod down the muddy trail.
When I catch up again, Pierce and Sparky have climbed to an overhang about twenty feet above my head. They're both waving their arms in a wild show of victory and giving manly
Yeahs!
and
Hoo-Ahs!
Miss and Rita catch up and stand beside me, watching them.
“Hey, guys?” I call. “You do know lightning loves elevation, right?”
Sparky gestures to the mountain rising up behind them. “I was all the way up there when I got hit.”
I look at Miss. “Don't even
think
about it.”
Polly and Frank move in behind us and Miss announces, “You've done it, gentlemen. This is the pinnacle moment of this journey. Congratulations, Sparky. You've conquered your struggle!” The rain gets heavier again, as if it's applauding with the rest of us.
Pierce and Sparky start doing muscleman poses, shaking their wet hair and making the rest of us laugh.
Frank calls out in a wrestling announcer's voice, “Man. Versus. Thunderstorm!”
There's a terrifying flash of light and
Zttt-Crash!
We're inside the thunder clap.
I try to see in every direction at once.
CrankinShitFrack to the power of nine.
Where the hell did that hit?
Is everyone okay?
The sound of the crash echoes through the valley and continues ringing in my ears. The air crackles with energy.
“Let's get out of here,” Sparky shouts, and Frank calls, “Race everyone to the van!”
Nobody argues as the soggy group turns and runs at their various speeds. Miss looks genuinely frightened and is just elbows, ass, and heels as she heads down the trail. I want to shout after her, “I told you so!”
Frank grabs Rita by the hand to help her along the path, and Sparky scrambles down the steep embankment and tucks Polly protectively under one of his big burned arms. When I see the grateful way she looks at him as he guides her toward safety, I think Sparky may have just conquered two mountains in one day.
A shot of terror burns
through me as I realize Pierce
hasn't come down.
With all the rain and confusion I'm the only one to notice. Everyone else is gone.
I move so fast it's as if I never injured my leg at all. Dropping my cane I grab onto the rocks and start pulling myself up.
The climb would be easier if I could use both of my feet and if maybe the rain wasn't pouring down on my head so hard I can barely see. But I know I can do this. I'm practically numb as my arms and leg claw and slide. I make progress and then find myself helplessly skidding back down to start over.
I need to get to Pierce.
It is pure willpower that finally pulls me to the top. My muscles shriek as I drag myself up over the edge.
Pierce
. His name forms in my mouth and I hesitate a moment before it escapes in a thin question. “Pierce?” He's clutching the wet ground on his hands and knees. I can see he's breathing heavily but I can't tell if he's been struck or not.
He looks up, streams of water running over his face. His blue eyes are wild. He shifts back so he's kneeling unevenly and crosses his arms in an
X
in front of his chest. His left hand cradles the bandages on his right shoulder where my dad branded him with his buddies' names. And with wings that run with sand.
The lightning crash must've thrown him into some form of shock. I automatically lunge to him.
He flinches away and I stop.
Feeling helpless, I put my hands on my head and wait for him to speak.
Finally I prod, “Maybe we've all had enough therapy for one day.”
He looks at me like he doesn't know who I am.
I slump to the ground beside him but he backs farther away, shifting to a sitting position. He keeps one hand on his shoulder as he wipes his wet face with the other.
“You know.” I grasp for something to say. Something that will get him to connect back to the present. Connect back to me. “You had a huge impact on my brother. He's already researching the Air Force Academy.” It's true. I haven't seen Harley this excited since he first discovered skydiving. Pierce doesn't respond and I put my hand on his arm. He doesn't move away this time. “Pierce, you got my brother to think about his future and swear off smoking pot for good. I know you hate to hear it, but you honestly are a damn hero.”
Grunting, he finally lets go of his shoulder but continues staring straight ahead. We sit together, bearing the rain.
Pierce takes another swipe at his face and finally speaks. “My uncle was one of the victims killed in Tower One. From the time I was a little kid I couldn't wait to join the military.” He looks at his hands. “Now the things that kept me alive over there, always pushing harder, being quick to react ⦠they're not so useful anymore.”
“I don't know. Hitting the dirt before getting struck by lightning was a pretty good trick, I think.”
He stares at me a moment as if he's trying to decide something. “Why don't you go ahead back to the van. Tell Miss I got a little taken over by events and need a few minutes.”
“I'm staying with you.” I don't have everything figured out, but I do know where I belong right now. Here. On this mountain. Beside Pierce.
He starts to say something, then shrugs and shakes the water off his head like he's a swimmer just breaking the surface.
The rain has lightened up a little, but the air stays heavy as the two of us sit looking out over the wet, vibrant valley. Thunder rumbles like a growling dog that refuses to leave. I resist the urge to move closer to Pierce as I bite back words that aren't enough.
I reach up to wring out my hair.
He sighs. “I think you were maybe right to quit before. It's probably time for me to take a break from Ulysses.”
“What, and miss out on these fabulous field trips?” I flick my fingertips at his face and he flinches at the spray of water that hits him.
“I don't know what made Miss think I was recovered enough to help other people.” He glances at me, and I'm stunned once again by the blue of his eyes. “Time to move on before I get somebody killed.”
“This wasn't your fault⦔
“I was acting stupid.” He shakes his head. “Trying to prove ⦠I don't know what. I just need to accept that I'll never be completely better. I left a piece of myself over there in that desert.”
“Uh,
literally.
” I knock on his fake leg. He looks at me in astonishment. “What?” I say. “It's okay for you to joke but I can't?”
He goes on. “Everything just seems so pointless. When I was over there things made sense in a way. I just had to stay alive and make sure my brothers on my right and on my left survived. Now, I can't get past the guys who will never make it home.” He pulls back the neck of his T-shirt and peels the soaked gauze off his shoulder, revealing his tattoo. I'm taken by the beauty of my father's artwork. Strong wings covered in sand. Even marred by red irritation, it's clear the piece is special.
“I guess you need to live that much harder,” I say. “You're doing it for them, too.”
“Yeah, I know. I see Rita squeezing a minute out of every second,” he says. “I'm just tired, you know? I'm done pushing myself so hard.” The fight is drained out of him.
It rises up in me.
The thunder snarls.
I want to prove to him that he didn't die back there in all that sand.
I need him to know that he's alive.
That we both are.
“So what? Now you'll just roll over and quit?” I yell above the storm. His eyes focus on me but my voice doesn't falter. “You think I'll sit here and listen to you talk about giving up after how hard you've pushed me?”
The rain streams down his face as the lines of tension turn to a wave of amusement. He says, “So now you're going to save me?”
“Damn straight.” I hold in my smile but feel it reaching my eyes.
He tilts his head. “And how're you planning to do that, Dyna?”
I swipe the water off my face with both hands. “Oh, I am going to be
all over
your ass. No mercy.”
He laughs. “And just what will your perfect two-legged boyfriend have to say about all this merciless ass-covering that's about to happen?”
“Who, him?” I shrug. “Things didn't work out.”
I have his full attention now and see his Adam's apple jump as he swallows.
“No?” he asks softly. “Why not?”
“Because.” My voice is unsteady but my gaze is firm. “He isn't you.”
Pierce's chest rises with a deep breath as his eyes stay with me.
After a moment he asks, “Do you remember the story of the tin soldier?”
“Um ⦠not really.” This isn't the reaction I expected and I'm filled with the weird feeling he's about to reject me.
“Well, you see, there's this tin soldier and he only has one leg. Sound familiar?” He gives the slightest smile and my insides dip. “But he's sturdy and strong and has a big heart, you know?”
I have no idea where Pierce is going with this, but I reposition away in case it's bad.
“So, one day this soldier sees a ballerina doll who has one leg up in the air where he can't see it. Right away he thinks she's perfect for him because she's got only one leg, too.”
“So you're looking for a one-legged dancer? Because I can dance way better than I did back there in the rain⦔
“Will you let me tell this, please?” he says. “And the doll has two legs. He only
thinks
she has one.”
I press my lips together.
“So anyway, he knows from the moment he sees her that she's the one for him. And everything he goes through for the whole story is all about getting together with this girl he's in love with.” He looks at me for a deep moment.
“Does he?” I practically croak.
“Well.” He rubs his hands together and squints. “They kind of end up burning in a fire together, and they melt into the shape of a tin heart.”
“Okay ⦠that's sad but sort of crazy romantic.”
“I've known it since that first day we met. When you lost it on Miss about wanting your mountain. Dyna.” He takes a breath. “It's all been about you.”
Moving more smoothly than most guys could with two good legs, he closes the space between us and cups my face in one hand. Our eyes are locked for just a beat before I close mine. His hold is gentle but powerful as he pulls my lips to his.
There is nothing safe about this kiss.
This is a kiss made of flood
and fire
and lightning.
This feels so good.
I never want to stop.
His mouth is warm and my arms instinctively wrap around his back to pull him closer. I feel his muscles underneath his soaked T-shirt. They aren't muscles developed on some machine. They were built through endurance and hardship.
Strength born of pain, and I feel that same strength in myself.
We pull apart and the happiness and disbelief on Pierce's face make me laugh.
“What?” he asks, tipping his head to one side.
“Nothing,” I say. “Just ⦠I can't believe you almost got struck by lightning!”
“Oh, I got struck all right.” He slides his hand to the back of my neck and
kisses me with such heat
the rain stops falling.
And the two of us
melt together.
Â
24
She stood on tiptoe, with her legs stretched out, as firmly as he did on his one leg. He never took his eyes from her for even a moment.
She was as firm as himself.
Hans Christian Andersen
“The Steadfast Tin Soldier”
“And this one is for Sparky,” Miss says. “Congratulations.”
She's handing out iridescent blue certificates for our final session out on the deck at Ulysses. We're all wearing jackets, and I clap my cold hands with the others as she presents Sparky with his award certificate. I look at her empty lap and realize there isn't going to be one for me.
“Hey, I know I missed some sessions,” I say, “but I thought meeting with you separately made up for that.”
During my private sessions with Miss I'd opened up to her about the ways I'd been allowing fear to hold me back. She'd listened thoughtfully as I described my accident in harrowing detail. “There's no going back to ignoring mortality after an experience like that,” I said. “But I've finally come to see that being filled with fear is a nasty prank. It blocks us from truly living.”
Miss smiled at me and I said, “What?”
“Nothing. Just that I love watching one of my butterflies take flight.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “We're all
Ulysses
butterflies?”
“Technically, Karners. You were right.” The two of us burst out laughing together and she admitted, “I guess I misidentified my butterfly in an encyclopedia when I was a girl and never thought to recheck it. But would you honestly want to go to a place called the
Karner
Center?”
I nodded my head and told her, “If it was here, I just might.”
A breeze blows now, and I shiver as Miss says, “I'm sorry, Dyna, but you can't get a certificate. You never completed a recovery assignment.”
“You never assigned me one.”
I want one of those damn certificates.