Love & Light
Authors: Michele Shriver
Love & Light
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Michele Shriver
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SMC Publishing
Love & Light
By Michele Shriver
Copyright 2015 Michele Shriver
Published by SMC Publishing
All Rights Reserved
This is a work of fiction. All characters, locales and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
AUTHORS NOTES AND ACKNOWLDGEMENTS
“H
ope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.”
- Desmond Tutu
Praise for
Love & Light
“Michele continues her beautiful writing in Love & Light. I love the way the story develops Kori and Landon's relationship flows throughout the story with the ultimate ending.”—Author Lyssa Layne
“Beautifully done! The book (and the hero) are definitely keepers.”—Author Jill Blake
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~Landon~
P
ractice ends, and she’s sitting there on the bleachers, alone, watching. The girl with the reddish-blond hair. I’ve seen her before. She’s in my Psychology class, but I’ve never talked to her. She always sits in the back of the room and is one of the first people to leave when class is over. She keeps to herself and walks with her head down, as if she doesn’t want to bother with anyone else.
That’s why it intrigues me to see her watching baseball practice. I first noticed her two days ago, when the last of the snow finally melted and we moved out of the field house. Even though the weather’s improving and we’re using our regular field now, we don’t draw a crowd to our practices, so it’s kind of surprising she’s here again.
Instead of heading straight to the locker room to shower and change, I decide to stop by the bleachers. “Hi there,” I say.
She glances up, and I notice her eyes are green, a nice complement to the red of her hair and I wonder if she’s of Irish descent. “Hi.” She doesn’t smile.
“Are you a baseball fan?” I ask her, something that automatically earns anyone points with me.
She gives a shrug of her shoulders. “Not really. Why?”
“Just curious. I saw you watching practice the last few days, so I thought maybe you were a fan.” I give her a sheepish smile. “It’s nice to see someone out here. We don’t exactly get a lot of people to practice, as you might have noticed.” I gesture at the empty bleachers. “Especially since we just moved outside.” The snow may be gone, but it’s still not very warm, and I’m not sure a lot of people on campus even realize that we’re practicing at Panther Park now.
“I’m here because it’s something to do,” she says, “and my doctor tells me fresh air is good for me. He says it will make me feel better.” She laughs a little, and it’s a laugh that makes me think she doesn’t believe her doctor’s claim.
“Are you sick?” I ask.
“Not physically.”
The answer catches me off guard and all I manage to say is, “Oh.”
For the first time, her lips twitch in the slightest hint of a smile. “Have I scared you away now?”
“Do you see me running?” I counter. It will take more than that to scare me off. I happen to know a thing or two about depression, and not just because my stepmom is a shrink.
“Maybe you should,” she says.
“Maybe.” I shrug, unconvinced. The thing is, she’s just intrigued me even more. “I hope you keep coming to practice,” I tell her. “Or maybe a game sometime. We’re off to a good start this season.” I set my gym bag down on the ground and extend my hand. “My name’s Landon, by the way. I’m a pitcher.”
She makes no move to shake my hand. “I don’t recall asking.”
And, just like that, I’m shot down. I may be pretty good at baseball, but it doesn’t mean I’m smooth with women. “No, I guess you didn’t.” I pick up my bag and sling it over my shoulder. “Maybe I’ll see you around,” I add before I turn and walk away.
I’ve gone about ten feet when I hear her call something out to me.
I turn back around. “Excuse me?”
“My name,” she says. “It’s Korinne, but most people call me Kori.”
“Kori,” I repeat, liking the way it sounds on my lips. “Thank you. Hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow, Kori.” I give a little fist pump as I run to the locker room.
~Kori~
I watch him jog away, and I wonder what he’s thinking. Is he happy he scored my name from our conversation, or does he think I’m a freak? I’m not sure why I gave it to him, other than it seemed like the polite thing to do. He’s cute and all, but I don’t want to send the wrong message. I don’t date jocks. I don’t want to date anyone right now.
Dr. Morris will be happy. I talked to someone. I had a conversation. He thinks it’s an important step for me in enjoying life again. That, along with the fresh air. I think it’s all bullshit and I’m not sure I want to enjoy life, anyway. Some days I’m not even sure I want to live.
I can’t try to end it, though. I won’t. It would be selfish and cowardly, especially after watching my mother fight for every last day on this earth. Even when she was in so much pain she could barely stand it, or was so weak she couldn’t get out of bed, she never gave up the fight. For that reason, I won’t give up either, even though it’s hard for me to enjoy anything since she’s been gone.
Maybe someday I will find enjoyment again. Maybe it will even be watching baseball.
I look around the empty bleachers, picturing them full of spectators on game day, cheering the players on. Landon said I should go to a game, but that seems like too much, too soon. Crowds? Cheering? People having fun? Definitely not my thing.
Practice, though, I think I can handle, and maybe I’ll have a friend in this guy, Landon. Maybe this is where it will start. The healing.
It’s hard to actually believe that, but I’ll be back again tomorrow anyway.
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~Kori~
“H
ey, Kori, wait up!”
I’m out of the lecture hall and almost out of the building when I hear someone call my name. Darn it! Not fast enough. If I want to keep avoiding people, then clearly I’m going to have to move a lot quicker. Still, I stop and turn around.
It’s the guy from the baseball team, Landon. Instead of baseball gear, today he’s wearing jeans and a green Plymouth State hoodie. Without the ball cap concealing part of his face, I’m able to get a better look at him. He’s got eyes as blue as the water at Cape Cod, and brown hair that hangs over his brow and has a bit of a wave in the back. Definitely cute. Even in my ‘I hate the world and I don’t want to talk to anyone’ state, I have to admit that. At least to myself.
“What?” I say. Even if I’m admitting to myself that he’s cute, that doesn’t mean I have to be polite. My mother was unfailingly polite to everyone all the time, and look where it got her.
“You remember me, right? Landon, from the baseball team...” He gives me a sheepish smile.
“I remember, yes.”
Doesn’t mean I want to talk to you.
“You walk fast,” he says. “I’m in class with you. Intro to Psychology. Professor Hollis.”
I nod. “So?”
“So, I want to talk to you. Are you ready for the test coming up?”
“Not really,” I admit. “Are you?”
He shakes his head. “Not at all, which is probably bad, considering this is supposed to be my major.”
“You’re a psych major? Really? You declared already?” I thought athletes didn’t declare until their junior year. Heck, even I haven’t picked a major, and I was considered one of the brains back in high school. That was a long time ago, though, even if it’s technically less than a year. So much has changed that it seems like a lifetime.
“Yeah.” Landon shoves his hands in pockets. “My folks were kind of bugging me about it, and my stepmom’s got a PhD in psychology so...” He shrugs as his voice trails off.
“So you’d thought it’d be a good major for you?” I twirl a strand of hair around my finger.
“Something like that, yeah.”
“Do you want to be a psychologist?” I ask.
“What I really want is to be a professional ball player,” he says. “That’s my dream, but being good enough to land a scholarship to a division three school doesn’t mean good I’m enough to play in the majors.”
It takes some humility to admit that. Already, this guy seems different from other jocks I’ve known, and it’s a good kind of different. “At least you have a backup plan.”
He nods. “Yeah, I guess. I can’t blow this test, though. I can’t blow any of them, really, but especially not this one.”
“Then I hope you don’t,” I say, meaning it, “but what does that have to do with me?”
“Because I thought maybe we could study together. If you’re not already in a study group?”
“I’m not, no.” Study groups generally involve interacting with people. “But I’m curious. Why me?”
He shrugs again. “Because I think I’d do better with a study partner and since I know your name, I figured I’d start by asking you.”
So I’m his first choice, not third or tenth. That’s sort of comforting, even if I’d hoped for a different reason. Like maybe he’d heard I was smart, or he thought I was pretty, or something other than simply knowing my name.
Before I can give him an answer, another girl comes up and puts an arm around him. She’s got blond hair, perfect makeup, and a toothpaste ad smile. It’s probably petty, but I don’t like her already. Maybe because she reminds me too much of a girl I went to high school with. The one who stole my boyfriend.
“There you are,” she says. “I’ve been waiting for you outside.”
“Oh, right,” Landon says, but I notice he doesn’t apologize. “I was talking to Kori.” He looks at me. “Kori, this is Amanda. Amanda, Kori.”
“Hi,” I say.
She doesn’t even acknowledge me, unless you count a look of barely-concealed disdain. The whole thing reminds me why I don’t do the people thing these days. Here I thought for a second that Landon might be interested in me, and his rude, vapid girlfriend shows up. Yeah, reality check, Kori.
“I have to go,” I say to him. “I’ll think about it, though.” Probably not very hard, but every once in a while, my semi-polite side shows through. I blame it on my mother.
“Please do,” he says, and smiles again, revealing a dimple in his chin. “And hopefully I’ll see you at practice later.”
Baseball practice. I forgot that I’d planned on going again. “Maybe,” I say. “I’m not sure I can make it today.”
~Landon~
Amanda’s timing sucks, but then again, everything about Amanda is kind of a drag these days. I went out with her a few times, and now she’s all clingy, like she wants to be exclusive or something. Hello. I’m only nineteen. No way am I ready to do exclusive.
“What were you doing talking to that freak?” she asks as soon as Kori is gone. “Are you friends with her?” There’s disgust in her voice. It’s obvious Amanda doesn’t like that possibility at all.
“I just met her,” I say. “And she’s not a freak.”
“Yeah, right. Just look at her. If she were any paler, she’d be a ghost, and then there’s her clothes...” Amanda rolls her eyes. “It’s like a really bad attempt at trying to be emo, minus the dyed black hair.”
