Dragonfly (11 page)

“She’s resting,” he said. “I think we need to give her some time.”

“Time?” His father snapped. “I’m about to give her an ultimatum. This nonsense has to stop. Just like her mother.” He turned his back to us, and I saw Jack flinch.

He put his hand on his father’s arm. “This is a lot more than nonsense.”

The edge was back in Jack’s voice, and Mr. Kyser met his gaze. At first I thought there might be an argument. A bad one. But instead his father broke away.

“I’ll be at my office,” he said.

The small hallway seemed very still after he left, and Jack looked at me with tired eyes. I still felt shaky, but I went and put my arms around him, pressing my cheek to his chest. He wrapped his arms around me and placed his lips on the top of my head, inhaling.

“Why can’t she see that the older we get, the easier it’ll get?” He exhaled.

“I don’t know.” I didn’t. This was all new to me. Like everything since I’d met Jack. “Will she be okay?”

“Maybe. Probably.” He shook his head. “Thanks for calling.”

“I’ve missed you,” I said my voice thick, my heart in my throat. Maybe it wasn’t the time, but I had to tell him.

“Me, too. We’ll talk soon, okay?”

His words made my stomach hurt. It was over, I could tell by the tone in his voice, and I was sure he was trying to figure out how to let me down easy. I nodded and watched him re-enter Lucy’s room before I turned to go.

Chapter 11

Mom had left early for work the next day and being alone in the house was simply too much. I was exhausted and worried, and I decided to head over to Julian’s before school. He was in his studio holding a piece of scrap metal when I got there, and he looked like he hadn’t slept either.

“Hey,” I said. “You staying home today?”

His face relaxed when he saw me, and I went over to hug him. He stood, folding me in his warm embrace, and I held him for a several moments, feeling myself finally calming down. I took in a deep breath of ocean air, and with my eyes closed, it was hard to tell who was comforting whom. It felt really good, and I was sad when we let go.

“Sorry for scaring you like that,” he said. “Your number was the only one I could think to call.”

I rubbed his shoulder as we sat beside each other. “Are you kidding? I’m glad you called. I can’t imagine what you were going through.”

“I never thought she’d do something like that.”

“What happened?”

“She called and wanted to come over, so I said sure.” He looked down, rubbing his thumb across the little dragonfly on his hand. “She was real upset talking about her father and William and how they were forcing her to graduate and move to New Orleans. I guess it was wrong, but she looked like she needed a drink. Brad left his fifth from the other night, so we polished it off. Then she started talking about us running away together.”

He stood and walked to the other side of the garage looking out. The sky was grey and the wind had picked up. “She was saying crazy shit. I thought she was joking. I told her I wasn’t running anywhere.”

“It’s not your fault,” I said, going to him. “She’s just, well, she’s been through a lot, you know?”

“She’d already taken something, more of whatever it was before she got here. I didn’t know or I wouldn’t have let her drink so much,” he looked at me, and I hated the pain in his eyes. “I’m sorry for her, Anna. I don’t want her hurting, but I can’t fix what’s wrong in that house. And I can’t risk my plan on shit like this.”

He looked down again, and I could tell he was still processing.

“You did the right thing, though. You got her help, and I could see you were worried about her.”

“I like Lucy. But we’ve never even been on a real date. I’ve never been to her house. When she called last night, I was actually thinking of…” His eyes flickered to mine.

“What?” I frowned.

“I just had other things on my mind.”

I nodded. We leaned against the door, watching the storm roll in. The air smelled heavy with rain. He let out a deep breath, and after a few minutes, he propped his wrist on my shoulder.

“Thanks for coming. Last night, today.”

“Couldn’t let my favorite artist suffer alone,” I smiled.

“Suffering’s good for art.” He stood up and walked to the back of the garage.

“What’ll you do today?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Head down to the water. Might as well take advantage of the weather.”

“I hate it when you surf in this. It’s so dangerous.”

He hauled out his board, grinning, and walked back to where I was standing. “I’ll be fine. It’s the only time the waves are big enough to ride. You’d understand if you’d let me teach you.”

I looked out at the sky. It was getting really grey. “I’d better go or I won’t beat it. Call me if you need anything.”

“Okay.”

But before he left, he stopped and leaned the board against the garage beside me, pulling off his shirt. “Hey, Anna?” He gently put both hands on my shoulders, and I looked up at his stormy eyes. “Let me know if things don’t work out with him, okay?”

Nobody knew what Jack had said to me last night, and I hadn’t wanted to talk about it. I started to argue, but Julian’s hands moved from my shoulders to my cheeks, and he leaned down to kiss me softly on the lips. It was a simple kiss, much like the one he’d given me in class, but unlike that day, this time I couldn’t seem to break away from it. My reaction was completely unexpected. I didn’t feel afraid or desperate or like I was trying to keep up. I felt warm and good, and I wanted to clutch his shoulders and pull him closer.

Instead, I put my hand on his chest and made myself step back. “Julian—”

“Shh.” He put his finger on my lips and smiled. Then he turned, grabbed his board, and walked out the door, down the few blocks to the Gulf. I stood alone watching him go, my eyebrows pulled together as I tried to figure out what had just happened and what it meant.

I could still feel his hands touching my cheeks, his lips softly pressing against mine. That quiet hum was still running through my body, and I hugged my arms over my chest. My brain was just confused. Only a few days ago I’d thought how much Julian reminded me of Jack. My involuntary reaction to his kiss was simply the result of my inner concern about Jack and his family. It was all very logical. Like math or something.

Still, I shivered as I walked to my car, heading quickly to class before it was too late.

* * *

The news of what had happened with Lucy hadn’t made it to school, and I hoped with the Kyser’s level of control, it never would. It didn’t seem fair to her with only a very few having the whole story. My thoughts were still swirling around all that had happened when my English teacher stopped me in the hall. She had a frown on her face, and I had no idea what I’d done. I’d managed to make it before the bell, so it couldn’t have been my second tardy.

“Miss Sanders, I received an email from Curtis Waters, the publisher of Coastal Connection News. They need a student intern to help them maintain their Internet site and perform some other duties in the Fairview office. You’re my best writer, so I recommended you for the job.”

My eyes flew wide. I couldn’t believe my ears. An internship with the city newspaper was like the golden ticket to journalism school! Not only that, Coastal Connection owned papers in several towns in South County. It would be an incredible addition to my résumé.

“Oh! Thank you!” I tried not to squeal. “What do I need to do?”

“First you have to get your parents’ permission,” she drilled. “Then you’ll have to make an appointment for an interview with Mr. Waters.”

“Of course! I’m sure my parents will be thrilled. Should I call him? Is there an application for me to fill out?”

“I told him you would stop by and pick up an application after school today. Unless Mr. Kyser will be taking up too much of your time.” She was still frowning, and I almost laughed, my emotions were so mixed up.

“I’ll be there!” is all I said.

* * *

Curtis Waters looked like every news editor I’d ever seen in the movies. His mostly grey hair was in need of a trim, and he wore a yellowed button-down shirt that was intermittently untucked from where he’d jammed it into his khaki pants earlier in the day. He smelled faintly of cigarette smoke, and his wrinkled face was the texture of thick leather. When we met, he was sitting behind his desk leaning back in his chair. He glanced at my application and then up at me and then back at my application again.

I had run home and changed into my best newspaper-reporter outfit before coming—khaki skirt, white oxford, loafers. My hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, and I tried to project confident news-reporter vibes as he appraised my lack of experience.

He continued looking at my half-sheet résumé, and I wondered if this was part of the interview process, seeing if I would crack under pressure and run from his office in tears. If only he knew what my last few weeks had been like.

And I was too excited for such behavior. I’d watched enough old newspaper movies to know he could be my hard-boiled boss ready to bust my chops if I misquoted someone or got a story wrong. I wanted to be tough, able to take it. The truth was, he actually looked like a nice guy.

“You’re the one who wrote that feature about the metal arts kid? LaSalle?” He pulled a piece of paper from one of the many stacks around his office.

“Yes, sir.”

“I got that,” he frowned. “Kid’s good. He’ll end up doing something. Alex LaSalle’s son.”

“Yes, sir,” I said brightly.

“Humph.” He read some more. “You know newspapers are dying. Technology, tree huggers, soon there won’t be any local paper left. What do you think about that?”

“I-I guess we’ll find another way to get the news out?” I flinched at my dumb response. I hadn’t prepared for that question.

“Another way. When the corporate paper came in, they said our little mullet wrappers would be gone inside a year. But folks around here are dedicated. Our circulation took a hit, but Fairview, Coopersdale, Newhope, they’re our biggest markets. Loyal customers.”

“Yes, sir.” My brow creased. Was that the right answer?

“You’ll learn a lot working here,” he continued. “I want you to feel free to ask me anything you need.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m putting you on our Internet news and the desk. Do you type?”

“Oh, yes, sir.”

“You won’t have to do much typing. You’ll take the published stories off the server and repost them to the website. Clean ’em up a little, take out odd spacing, add bylines. It’s pretty simple stuff. Open the mail, check email. If anything looks newsworthy, pass it along to the editors. Scan faxes and type up phone calls, and send them through email.”

“Yes, sir.” I was starting to feel like a broken record, but I wasn’t about to say no.

“You’ll be working after school?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Put in five hours a week, and I’ll pay you a hundred bucks a month.”

My eyes widened at that. “Thank you!”

“You’ll work in this office, out there.” He pointed to a small desk that had an ancient computer buried under assorted papers. “Start next week.”

I was so excited, I ran to the Kia and punched up Mom’s number. “I’m in! I’m working for the paper in Fairview! He wants me to start next week, five hours a week, and he’s going to pay me a hundred bucks a month! Isn’t that great?”

“Um…” She didn’t sound impressed.

“MOM! Internships are usually unpaid!”

“Oh, well, in that case, yes! It’s great,” she laughed. “Your first paying gig.”

“I’m not really writing. I’m just copying the printed stories to the website and forwarding emails that I think look newsworthy.” Then I panicked. “How do I know what’s newsworthy? I’ve never worked at a paper before. What if what I think is newsworthy isn’t what Mr. Waters thinks is newsworthy? He’s going to fire me!”

“Sweetie, you haven’t even started,” Mom said. “Don’t can yourself so fast. I’m sure he’s not expecting you to be a whiz right off the bat.”

“He had my feature on Julian.” I thought about how that story had made every paper in South County—and Sterling, the next county over. It had been as much a thrill for me as for Julian.

“Did he say it was brilliant?”

“No, but he had it, and he said he looked at it.” I was starting the car, excited about my own portfolio now. “They all ran that one, so I guess it shows I have a nose.”

“You have a very cute little nose.”

“Mom! Reporters are not cute. They’re hard-boiled and cynical.”

“You have to live a little longer to be so cynical.”

“I’ve watched a lot of old movies,” I said, directing the car toward the beach road. “I know about the evil that lurks in the hearts of men.”

“What did you just say?”

I started giggling, “I don’t know!”

We both laughed then, and I hung up.

Chapter 12

My euphoria over my new gig was dampened only by my concern for what was happening with Lucy. I’d considered going by the hospital, but it was more likely she was already home. I hated thinking of her in that house with only one person there for comfort. Who knew what the other two would say to her.