From The Wreckage - Complete (9 page)

"No, I can't. I got a concussion and have very little memory." 

"You've lost your memory?" Jackie Faye gasps; sounding as if she's won a prize. "You poor thing. So you don't remember the house falling on you? The hours you spent trapped by yourself?"

Jules wants to walk away, but somehow her brain isn’t connected to her legs and she stands there, mutely allowing this woman to continue asking rude questions. She shakes her head at the last one. "I wasn't alone," she mumbles and finally looks around for an exit strategy.

"Well, Ms. Blacklin, who else was with you that night? Maybe they would like to talk to the cameras." 

"I..."

An arm wraps around her shoulders and a voice speaks over her head. "She was with me, and no, I do
not
want to talk to the cameras. Excuse us," West practically growls; pulling Jules into his side and sweeping her out of the lights and the crowd that has gathered.

Behind her Jules hears others start talking about the events, and she glances over her shoulder to see the reporter already asking new questions. Without speaking, West guides her through the groups of people hugging and whispering. Many continue holding their almost burnt out candles before their faces. 

Once they reach a small clearing he stops and drops his arm from her body, but remains close to her as he asks if she is okay.

"I'm fine; I was ambushed, that's all. How do the reporters know about the house?"

He shrugs and his arm brushes hers as they stand there. Jules’ candle, no longer lit, is dangling from her hand, and she lifts it, looking at how the wax is melted to one side.

"Do you think this helped?" she asks him and looks up into his warm eyes.

"Here." He takes the candle from her hand and turns away, tapping the shoulder of the closest person. The guy nods and Jules watches as West re-lights her candle and thanks the man before turning back to her.

"What’s it supposed to do for us? The whole lighting-a-candle thing?" 

"I know there are a lot of religions that use candles to remember spirits of the dead, but I don't really know why. For me, I think it's a nice way to remember. I look at it as a metaphor of the light that a person once was. It kinda brings me strength."

She reaches out to take the candle from his hand. "I don't feel strong. I feel alone and empty, like I want to crawl into a dark space," she admits, and a tear rolls down her face.

"You're not alone," he offers. Their hands touch as she reaches across her body with her right hand and tries to take the candle from him. Instead of letting go, West wraps his fingers over hers, all the while keeping his gaze on the small flame. "I'll be your strength, Jules."

Her shoulders begin to shake as she looks up at him. His strong profile is lit by the mellow glow of their shared candle. She studies the strong contours of his face; his straight nose, cheeks that always seem to carry a hint of red in them, the angular jaw line that is still soft, but shows promise of what is to come as he matures a little more. He is amazing to look at, and Jules feels safe standing next to him.

Safe
. It is a word that never seemed to cross her mind until Friday night. This boy has repeatedly gone out of his way in the last two days to protect her.
He
makes her safe.

"West?" she starts softly, and he turns toward her. His right hand touches her left hand lightly, their shoulders touch, as he looks down into her eyes. They are barely inches apart, separated only by the candle held out in front of them. As he turns, she spots her mother watching them and she flinches and quickly pulls her hand from his.

His face falls but he doesn’t say anything. Releasing his hand from hers around the candle, he steps back once and blinks slowly.

"You know what? I need to run. I'll see you around." She nods as he brushes her upper arm once with the back of his hand and walks away.

The brush of a cold hand pulls Jules from her sleep.

"Jase?"

"Sorry, Jules. Can I sleep with you again tonight?" her little brother mumbles sleepily; already climbing into her bed and tugging the warm blankets away from her body.

"Sure, bud. Try not to hog the covers this time, though."

Jason has climbed into her bed for the past four nights. Saturday night he woke her up not long after Stuart left, and she’d barely fallen asleep. His skateboard pajamas were soaked with sweat and his face was covered in tears.

"Nightmare?" she asked; totally understanding the look of fear on his face.

He nodded his head slightly, his blond hair sticking to his forehead, and she helped him wipe down and change into fresh pajamas. Knowing how he felt, she pulled back her covers and offered to let him sleep with her for the night.

That simple act repeated itself Sunday and Monday night as well, and while Jules is a little tired of getting kicked and punched by her restless little brother each night, she is happy to have him nearby.

Jason is the baby her parents didn't know they could have. Born when she was seven, they tried for several years and had given up when her mom came to the shocking conclusion that her 'food poisoning' was really a pregnancy. He was such a pretty baby, and Jules had pushed him around in his stroller for months pretending he was her personal baby doll. They had always been close. She is so grateful her parents decided to forgo their usual post-game Friday night dinner plans last week and went home instead. Her heart stops every time she thinks about what might have happened if they had been out when the twister hit.

Jase loved football so much that he forced her parents to bring him to all of the prep games each week. For a while Jules thought they were coming to watch her cheer, but he made it clear she was only a sideshow.

"Ewww! Why would we want to watch girls bounce around when there's a game on?" he questioned her one night during freshman year, when she told them they should skip the game due to the cold rain falling.

"Bouncing around? Is that what you think I do?" 

"You shout a lot, too."

"Nice. You know bud, one of these days, you're going to be happy to have girls bouncing and shouting on the sidelines for you," she teased; ruffling his silky hair.

Her little brother made a disgusted face at her before running off to play with whatever toys were his obsession at the moment. He was only five at the time, but they taught him right. Football was king. 

She recalls being upset when she was younger because 'girls couldn't play ball'. Some boys on the playground were talking about Pee Wee league and how they were going to get to wear real pads and hit people. Jules remembers her pulse racing at the thought of playing football for real, and not just with her dad on the weekends. She was so excited, she strolled over to the group and professed her love of the game and told them all she was going to sign up too.

"Girls don't play football!" Then they laughed, which made her fume.

"Yes they do."

"No way. You can't tackle a boy. You're too little." 

"My daddy says I can do whatever I want, and I tackle
him
all the time," she pointed out; her hands plunked on her little hips, her face full of defiance.

As she snuggles Jason closer, she remembers how she ran home that day and paced by the door until her dad got home from work. She rushed to his car in anticipation of proving those boys wrong.

"Daddy! Can I play football?"

"Well, baby, let me change first and we can play, sure." He smiled, grabbed her by the waist and swung her up in his arms.

"No! I want to play with the boys…
real
football." 

"Real football?"

"Yes!" She giggled then and whispered in his ear, "The Pee Wee football. That's a funny name for football, daddy, isn't it?"

He chuckled at her and proceeded to tell her he'd have to talk to her momma about that.

She can’t remember exactly what her mom said about the request to let her baby girl play football, but she did remember being taken to a local cheer center that weekend to watch the competitive cheerleaders practice. They'd danced and tossed each other in the air; their little skirts flipping up and their big bows and glittery outfits were neon signs to a five-year old girl. She was hooked from that day forward.

"Jules?" Jason whispers in the dark.

"Yeah, bud?"

"Was it scary?"

"It was, but I'm okay Jase. You don't have to be scared about it anymore."

"What if another twister comes? What if it hits our house like it did your school or the McDonald's?"

She sighs and hugs him close. She has no idea how to answer these questions because she wonders the same thing. Until Friday night, it never once crossed her mind how an act of Mother Nature could do something so horrible in her little Texas town. The west coast had earthquakes and forest fires; the south and east had hurricanes, and there were blizzards in the north. She had always felt safe in her isolated area of Texas; far enough inland where the hurricanes that did come ashore were typically rain and wind by the time they made it to Tyler. In her mind, tornadoes hit places like Oklahoma and Kansas. Of course she knew that
technically
they could get them too — that's why they had drills, and they had severe storm watches often enough when there was bad weather. She never expected one to hit. 

"Jase, you can't be scared that something bad
might
happen. I don't want you to be scared all the time."

"What keeps you from being scared? What kept you from being scared when you were stuck in that house?"

Her eyes mist over as she pictures West in her mind.
West
, she thinks. He kept her from being scared that night. She recalls how the moment he left her house Saturday, she felt fear rising up in her again. She thinks back to those few stolen moments at the memorial Sunday night when he told her he would be her strength. She's slept a lot over the past few days, and her head still causes her issues, but every time she wakes up, West is the first thing she sees in her mind. His presence in all of her dreams and nightmares since Friday night probably isn’t helping things much.

"I held someone's hand," she whispers, and allows herself to admit out loud for the first time how much that single act meant to her.

The room is silent for a moment, their breathing the only thing she can hear before he asks, "And that kept you from being scared?"

"No buddy, I was always scared. We both were. But holding his hand let me know someone was with me, we were in there together, and I knew he would try his best to protect me, and he did. He gave me his strength."

"Who will protect me?"

Jules lets out a half-cry/half-laugh at his innocent question. "I will, bud," she promises; hugging him tightly and finding his hand. "And mom and dad will. We love you Jase, and we’ll protect you with all our might. Try to get some sleep now, okay?"

"Okay."

The conversation pulls a memory from her mind, and suddenly, she’s transported back to the small space she shared with West for a few hours Friday night.

"I'm scared," she admits to him at some point. She has been going in and out of consciousness, and is doing all she can to keep from puking all over their small space.

"Why?"

"Why?" she asks incredulously. "Well, hmm…we’re stuck under the rubble of a house, a tornado has hit our town, and we have no idea what's going on out there. Listen to all of those sirens! It sounds like a war zone."

"O, ye of little faith. This is nothing. I've got you."

"You've got me?" Her head swims in confusion and she wonders if he is confused too.

"Yeah, Buff. I've got you. I'm here and I’ll keep you safe. No worries, okay?"

She wants to freak out. Her arms are pressed tightly between their chests, and his hand holding hers. She feels claustrophobic as she tries to wiggle her legs around. Something on the ground cuts her thigh and she winces.

"Hey," he warns mildly. "Calm down. Breathe."

"I want out of here! I can't breathe, my head hurts and I want my mom and dad. What if they're hurt?" Her shoulders begin to shake. "What's taking them so long to get help?"

"Jules! Baby, you can't freak out on me now, please. I need you to stay calm." His free hand runs up to sightlessly locate her face and he cups her cheek. "Look at me."

"I can't…I can't see anything." She gasps and forcibly tries to control her breathing.

"Pretend, then. Listen to my voice and picture my face in your head. Picture the Ice Shack from before all of this happened."

Taking another deep breath, she visualizes him sitting on that bench outside the Shack; his silver flask lifting to his mouth and the sly grin on his lips as he looks at her.

"That's good; I can feel you calming down already. I told you we’re not gonna die tonight. Trust me. Will you do that?"

"How do you know? What if..." His finger — thumb, maybe — presses over her lips and quiets her protest.

"Because I've got stuff I want to do in this life, and I'll be damned if this is the end."

She grins at the bitterness in his voice; her teeth grazing the finger that lingers over her lips, and he rubs her lips softly as he speaks again.

"Plus, while I've always dreamed of dying in a beautiful woman's arms, this wasn't exactly the way I planned it."

"Oh wow, was that a pick up line?"

"No, gorgeous, that was the truth. I'd show you what I envisioned, but I don't think we have enough room in this little cave of ours," he teases, and Jules feels her face burn at the innuendo. 

Her fears slowly retreat to the back of her thoughts as this playful side of West comes alive. 

"It's a shame our accommodations are so shabby, then. Should I offer you a rain check?" she coyly teases back. Clearly she isn’t thinking straight, to make such a comment.

"Hell, yeah you should! I'm taking you up on that, too. No backing out now."

Oh my wow!
she thinks. She pulls back from the memory suddenly, which causes her body to warm, her blood rushing not unlike molten liquid. She needs a cold shower. Maybe that conversation is why West asked her if she could remember anything they talked about! She can’t believe she flirted so openly with him. Stress is the only excuse she can make for herself as she pulls her new cell phone from her nightstand and checks her messages. Nothing. It is close to midnight, but she pulls up Stuart's name and sends him a quick text.

Jules: I miss you. First funeral tomorrow. Wish you were here to go with me. Call me soon

She realizes two things as she lays there in the dark with Jase breathing lightly beside her.

One - she didn’t want to tell Stuart she loved him as she typed her text. Two - she wishes she had the courage to call West. 

She lays awake in bed for a long time after that, and her mind keeps playing tricks with her heart. Every time she tries to think of Stuart and what he’s doing, she is reminded of West, and she begins to long for him.
How was he taking all of this?
she wonders. Is she the only one lingering over every minute of their time together? They had been trapped and were lucky to be alive…it's not as if it was a romantic vacation, so why is she envisioning his lips on hers every time she closes her eyes? Why did she suddenly remember their 'rain check' conversation? And more importantly, why is she dying to tell him he should cash in that rain check?