Savage Cinderella (11 page)

Brinn grinned. "I need to see a news
program."

“
Nothing but bad news on
TV. I’ll start watching and reading the news when they start
reporting the good stuff.”

She wanted to tell Mr. Hoffman all about
Justin but she was wary about how much to say. Her eyes dropped to
the floor and she chewed her lip. "I need to find out about a hiker
that was rescued yesterday."

"Humph." He raised one unruly gray brow.
Tugging on his red suspenders, he turned on the television, tuning
it to the local station. "Let's see if the ten o'clock news has
anything to say about your lost hiker." Mr. Hoffman always
relented. He gave her the impression that he would pull the moon
from the sky for her if he could. She couldn’t recall a time he’d
denied her anything, despite his crusty exterior.

A few minutes after the local weather report
concluded, Brinn shouted at the TV screen and pointed, "That's
him!"

Justin was coming out of a hospital, giving
clipped answers to the microphones being shoved in his face by a
throng of reporters. He looked tired and somewhat flustered by the
attention. Brinn noticed his dimpled smile and big brown eyes.

"He looks good," she said in a dreamy voice.
Catching Mr. Hoffman's curious glance, she added. "I mean, he
looks...healthy...safe. I'm glad he made it down the mountain,
that's all."

The two stood in silence, listening to
Justin's account of his ordeal. He didn’t once mention his
encounter with Brinn. She breathed a sigh of relief. For now at
least, Justin had kept his promise not to tell anyone about her.
Maybe he really was someone she could trust. He had been so kind to
her during their time together in the cabin.

Whenever she thought about his arms around
her, her chest grew tight with longing. He explained to her that
not all promises were bad. He’d said some promises had good
outcomes and that it was the person making the promise that made it
good or bad. He’d made a pact with her that he would only promise
her good things and she had promised to try to trust him. They’d
shaken hands on it in agreement, a custom she’d seen from a
distance but never experienced. The warm steadiness of his hand in
hers lingered long after he’d let go.

Brinn felt Mr. Hoffman’s eyes on her. She
turned and saw the corner of his mouth as it crinkled upwards, "Is
he a friend of yours?"

Blood rushed to her cheeks and ears. She
looked back up at the screen, watching Justin disappear into a
truck with a large, burly young man at the wheel. "Yes, I believe
he is a friend."

Growing Pains

Elated at the prospect of seeing Abby, Brinn
bent to pick some leafy greens to add to the fistful of columbine
and daisies she collected for her friend. School would be out by
now and Abby would be home for the summer. She smiled broadly as
she touched the growing bouquet to her nose.

Justin had given her heart wings. It had been
two weeks since he’d left her on the mountain and she woke every
morning missing the feeling of being wrapped in the warm safety of
his arms. He’d been there when she woke from one of her night
terrors and he’d comforted her like nothing else ever had. She’d
never felt anything so gratifying and perfect. She couldn’t wait to
tell Abby.

By midday, with the sun hot on her shoulders,
she reached the lowland meadows of Abby's farm. The farmhouse was
half a day’s hike from her little cabin in the high country and
she’d started out at daybreak. Brinn knew the way with little
attention to paths or landmarks. If Abby followed her usual
routine, she would be out riding and Brinn would find her traveling
the trails on Callie, her chestnut mare.

As she hummed her way across the meadow, a
familiar silhouette appeared in the distance. This time, however,
her friend wasn’t alone. Brinn ducked behind the large willow that
stood solitarily in the open field. As the two riders drew nearer,
she made out the distinctive shape of a young man with neatly
cropped, sand colored hair, riding alongside Abby. Caught between
her desire to see her friend and her fear of being seen by a
stranger, she remained hidden.

Abby and the young man chatted and laughed as
their horses approached. Brinn, close enough to hear their voices,
pressed her back against the broad trunk of the willow, listening
to the casual conversation carried on the warm breeze. Abby
obviously trusted her companion and the tone of their conversation
sounded light, the two laughing and enjoying the sunny day. Maybe
he was like Justin, she considered. Maybe he was gentle and good,
and would keep her secret if Abby asked him to. Mustering her
courage, Brinn stepped out from behind the tree.

The horses started and reared back. The young
man let out a girlish squeal as he tumbled from the back of Apollo,
Callie’s mate. The bucking Appaloosa stomped the ground, just
missing the stunned rider. Abby jumped down from her mount and was
at his side in a flash. "Phillip, are you all right?" She fussed
over him and brushed the dirt from his clothes as she helped him to
his feet. She wheeled on Brinn who was nervously clutching the
flowers behind her back.

"What are you doing? He could have been badly
hurt!"

Brinn stared at the man, who was visibly
angry and shaken. Ashamed and flustered, she looked down at her
feet. "I’m sorry. He looks fine," she added. She glanced from her
feet to his face but avoided eye contact. The young man gaped at
her as if she were an apparition.

The perfect southern hostess, Abby softened
her tone and made introductions. "This is my boyfriend, Phillip
Maitland. We met at school. He’s majoring in Biomedical
Engineering." She paused, waiting for Brinn to make eye contact
before continuing. "Phillip, this is my friend Brinn—the one I told
you about."

Brinn shot her a harsh look, hurt by the
betrayal. When the man held out his hand, she stared at it
suspiciously, certain it wouldn’t feel warm and soft like Justin’s
had. Besides, they hadn't come to any particular agreement worth
shaking on.

Abby smiled and blushed. "She doesn't shake
hands, Sweetheart." The embarrassed look on her friend’s face made
the hollow place in Brinn’s chest grow bigger.

Phillip’s hand lowered and the blue eyes that
examined her held an expression of mixed distaste and relief. An
awkward silence followed and an unpleasant heat flushed Brinn’s
cheeks.

"I didn't expect to see you today, Brinn.
Although, I'm awfully glad you've come,” she added quickly. “I was
hoping you would get to meet Phillip. We're engaged." Abby beamed
as she held out her hand and revealed a small sparkling stone atop
a thin gold band.

Brinn eyed the stone, not quite certain how
to respond. She looked from her friend to the man and back again
and repeated the word. "Engaged?"

"To be married, of course." Smiling broadly,
Abby tucked her arm under Phillip's and snuggled closer to him,
linking her fingers with his and clutching his hand as if ready to
drag him off somewhere.

Brinn shuffled her feet, her nerves starting
to squirm. "That's nice," she muttered, not knowing what else to
say. It had been just her and Abby for so long. Her stomach
tightened and a sick feeling sank into her heart. This man, with
the blue eyes and golden hair, was going to take her friend away.
Brinn wanted to protest. She wanted Phillip to go away and leave
them alone and never come back. She didn't like him or the way he
was touching her friend. But Abby glowed with happiness.

Abby had lost her chubbiness and no longer
wore the thick glasses that made her brown eyes large and bug-like.
Her face was framed with shorter, wavier tresses that made her
appear older and more mature. She’d changed since last fall. She
wasn't the girl that Brinn remembered. Now, she was a lady—a woman
of the world who had seen things beyond the farm, beyond the
mountains.

"I should go." Brinn said, holding her tears
back so hard her throat ached. Helpless to stop the world from
changing around her, she bit down hard on her bottom lip to quell
the rising emotions. A blanket of hopelessness surrounded her, the
weight heavy on her shoulders as she turned to go. The flowers
dropped at her feet.

"Wait,” Abby called out. Brinn turned back,
staring at the scattered flowers on the ground. “Phillip is going
back to North Carolina next week. I'll have time to get together
with you then. I can tell you everything that's been happening
since I started school and you can catch me up on how things are
with you." Brinn glanced toward Phillip, trying to hide the hurt
and sadness festering inside.

Abby tried to ease the uncomfortable tension
in the air. "Phillip and I are going into town later. Maybe you
could come with us? You don't mind, do you, Darlin’?" She blinked
her eyes oddly at the young man who shifted uncomfortably but
didn't protest. He smiled weakly and nodded.

Brinn looked at Abby as if her friend had
just invited her to take a spaceship to the moon. Part of her
wanted to refuse immediately. But another part heard the invitation
in a new light. Kitty was busy with her cubs and hardly around much
anymore. Abby was embarking on a whole new journey without her, and
Brinn knew Mr. Hoffman would be ready to retire soon. The store was
becoming too much for him and he’d mentioned moving to Florida to
live with his sister.

Everyone was moving on without her. She felt
a sudden desperation to run away. But instead of wanting to run
into the mountains, for the first time, she wanted to run away from
them. She thought of Justin and the stories he told her about the
world, and a burst of courage bubbled to the surface, an
underground spring filling her with new hope. She looked down at
her tattered clothing. She couldn’t go looking like this. Her fists
remained clutched at her sides, her eyes focused on the ground, "I
don't think I can."

“
I know I’ve asked you to
come out of hiding a million times, but I really want you to
consider it, Brinn.” Abby picked up the flowers, straightened the
bunch and sniffed them. A sympathetic but determined smile spread
across her face. “We aren’t children anymore and it’s time for your
coming out. There is a whole wonderful world out there, and you are
missing it. And more importantly, the world is missing out on you.”
She crossed her arms, tucked the flowers under her elbow and put
her foot down hard. “I’m not hiding you anymore, and this time, I
won’t take no for an answer.”

Brinn looked down again at her boots and
grubby wardrobe, and scratched at the knotted nest on her head. "Do
you have clean clothes that I could wear?"

Taken aback and overcome with surprise and
pleasure, Abby wrapped Brinn in a warm embrace, the wilted flowers
still clutched in her hand. "Of course I do! I've waited a long
time for you to make your debut. We are going to fix you up to look
gorgeous."

Phillip snorted as if to say "Good luck with
that," but to his credit kept his mouth shut.

A Brand New Brinn

The rambling farmhouse needed paint but it
held an air of hominess that made Brinn feel welcomed. She’d only
been inside a few times, and always when Mr. and Mrs. McMurray were
out, but she basked in the smell of baked bread that permeated the
kitchen as if it were part of the flowered wallpaper. The décor was
simple, the furniture slightly dulled by years of use, but
beautiful all the same.

The family pictures that lined the stairway
showed generations of McMurrays and Frasers with features that
closely matched Abby in both coloring and bone structure. Brinn
stared in awe, taking the stairs one at a time and pausing to study
the portraits.

“
That’s my great grandma. I
was named after her.” Abby gestured to an aged photo of a young
woman on horseback wearing a long skirt and high-necked
blouse.

Hung in neat rows and columns, the pictures
were evidence of a history that seemed unfathomable. What must it
be like to be a part of a family, to know all your relatives, and
to experience the connection of blood that flows through the roots
of an extensive family tree? She remembered having grandparents
when she was very small—her mother’s parents at least. They lived
far away in another country. She’d only met them a few times and
they spoke a strange language she hadn’t understood. She couldn’t
remember her father’s parents at all. The only family she ever
really knew was her mother and father. And they were dead.

“
Where are your parents?”
Brinn asked, pushing away the memories.

“
Since I started school,
Mom and Dad have taken up golf. I don’t see the fun in chasing a
little ball and trying to whack it into a hole, but they’re
obsessed,” she giggled, leading Brinn down a hallway and into the
bathroom that adjoined a spacious bedroom, decorated in pinks and
creamy chiffon. “With my parents gone, we’ll have free rein to play
with your hair, makeup, and wardrobe.” Abby looked expectantly at
Brinn. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

Phillip hadn’t objected, but didn't look at
all pleased to leave the girls alone for the rest of the day. He
agreed to pick them up at 6:30 that evening to take them for a
night out on the town.

Brinn sank into a large claw-foot tub up to
her ears in hot, soapy, water. It felt wonderful—nothing like the
icy streams where she normally bathed. Abby sat on a low stool next
to the tub, painstakingly combing knots and burrs out of Brinn’s
hair with short, harsh jerks.

"Ouch!" Brinn repeated for the thousandth
time.

"Don't squirm! It wouldn't get so awful if
you would learn to use the hairbrush I gave you."

Brinn scowled at her friend, wincing as
another snarl broke free. "I use it for scrubbing dirt off of roots
and scales off of fish. I thought it best not to use it on my
hair."