Strange in Skin (4 page)

“Caldwell, Strong, Hepburn, Lance,” the officer shouted out. I quickly caught on that he was saying
the last names of the visitors and the order in which they were to sit. He pointed to the last few chairs.
“Davids, Olgson, Wright.”

I sat down in the very last chair and looked up at the scratched plastic screen in front of me. There
he sat, directly across from me. Emry Logan. My heart began to thump at the exact same time the lump
returned in my throat. I remained like that for a few seconds, my body paralyzed by the apprehension
that overwhelmed me.

Emry stared at me for a moment. Then I saw his hand reach for the phone on his side of the screen,
and I automatically removed my sweaty hand from my warm pocket and felt my fingers slide over the
greasy phone into a firm grasp.

“Hello,” he whispered, his brown hair resting in the corners of his eyes as he positioned his head
slightly downwards.

 

“Hello,” I whispered back.

 

“My sister?” He raised his eyebrows, as I realized they must have told him what I had written
down on the paper.

 

I felt a tense chuckle escape my throat. “Well, I had to put something down.”

 

He didn’t say anything for another moment, just stared at me with those insanely glorious blue eyes.

“Well, I don’t have a sister, but I have to admit, I am surprised.”
“You are?”

“Well,” he began slowly. “Yes. I mean, I didn’t think you would come.” Of course he didn’t. He
thought I would be smart enough to stay away like everyone else thought of me, too. “I honestly didn’t
think the letter would get to you. I figured someone in your family would see it first and destroy it
before you ever got the chance to read it.”

I swallowed, the lump somewhat dissolving now. That probably would’ve happened if I hadn’t
been the first to retrieve the mail that day. “Well, that didn’t happen.”

 

“And what did you think? Of my letter, I mean.”

I studied him for a minute. He was sitting there so perfectly still, not fidgeting at all like I felt like I
was. His face seemed hard, yet gentle and I felt myself memorizing the position of the dark freckles on
his cheeks before I looked away, embarrassed by my actions. “I don’t know what to think.” I hesitated
for a moment longer, still so unsure of what I was saying. “You wrote that you thought I was the only
one who could help you?”

This time Emry turned away. He looked down at his fingernails, and it seemed I had triggered
something that troubled him from within.

 

“Have I upset you by coming?” I asked, suddenly wishing that his sadness would go away as I felt
an ache deep from within by seeing his sudden pain.

“No, of course not.” He looked up, and a smile played on his lips but not enough to come blatantly
forward. “I’m so glad you came. No one visits me here.” He took a deep breath and pushed the hair
out of his eyes with the back of his hand. “No one talks to me. You were the first one that had said
anything to me in months that day when you brought in your dad’s papers, besides the guards, that is. I
thought, this girl is kind. She must be to talk to someone like me. Maybe I’ll write to her, and here you
are, but I didn’t think you’d come.”
“My father doesn’t know I’m here,” I quickly blurted out.

Emry nodded his head slowly, and then I realized he had already understood that before I even had
to come out and say it. He knew that when I wrote down Amy Wright on the piece of paper. “I’m
sorry you had to lie.”

I shrugged as if I was an old pro at the deceit game. I didn’t think he bought it. “Okay,” I began,
feeling slightly calmer at the moment. I could hear the whispers of everyone else on their phones but
couldn’t hear specific words being said. “So what exactly do you need saved from?”

He snorted out a short laugh. My eyes immediately darted to a small dimple in the side of his cheek
as he did so. His beauty was astounding. How could such a creature be locked up behind bars, behind
this disgusting plastic screen right now?

“Everybody needs saved from something. Even you.” He eyed me curiously.

What was he talking about? I wasn’t the one in prison. I was completely free. What gave him the
right to suppose such a thing on my life? He didn’t even know me. I moved the phone over to my other
hand.

“So why are you in here anyway?” I asked as casually as I could, but really, I had been dying to ask
that question since the first time I saw him.
He looked down again, his face so serious. When I found myself unable to stare into his glistening
eyes, I would pay extra attention to all his other facial features, his strong jawline, the way his small
ears protruded ever so slightly from the sides of his head.

“I don’t really like to talk about myself,” he said. He looked up and stared deep into my eyes as if
trying to read my response. “I’ve been poked and prodded continuously in here about … everything.
I’d much rather talk about something else.”

I felt a little twinge in my stomach, not nervousness, but more like disappointment. I wanted so
badly to know why this beautiful, young man, had been arrested in the first place, but I could see very
clearly that he would give me no such satisfaction on the subject right now. I decided not to pursue it
any further. “So what do you want to talk about then? Why did you want me to come?”

“I know I made it sound like I wanted to talk about God, but I don’t. Not now at least.” He hesitated
for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I didn’t think you’d come,” he repeated.
“You keep saying that, but I did come. I’m here. So now what?”

“Let’s talk about you.”

Confusion took a hold of me again. I wanted to be here, but at the same time, things were getting too
dangerous again. This was supposed to be about him, not me. “What do you want to know?” I felt the
words slipping off my tongue before I had time to stop them. I wasn’t able to take action of my
thoughts around him. My lips just opened and the opposite of what I knew I should be saying came
out.

He smiled a little, his teeth perfectly white against his tanned skin. I felt my heart flutter
momentarily in my chest as I saw how the smile illuminated his features even more. I realized I was
holding my breath and tried to look at anything but his face hoping to make the stupor go away.

“I want to know all about who Anna James is.”

 

The way he said my name was enough for me to go right back into a trance. It was seductive, yet
hung on the edge of taunting as if he knew this would create some sort of reaction within me. Whether
I showed it or not, I wasn’t entirely sure. I seemed to be so out of my element here in so many ways.

“There’s really not a whole lot to say. My life isn’t very interesting,” I told him, unsure of what to
say exactly. Talking about me would bore him to death. He probably would rather sit in his cell than
listen to my life story.

“Believe me, you have me interested.”

He continued to stare, his eyes so piercing I felt that fluttering sensation return. My emotions were
on a roller coaster ride, and it felt like I was on the verge of physical sickness at any moment, but
somehow I was still holding it together.

“Do you live in a pretty country house with a white picket fence with a perfectly green lawn or
something?” he asked, amusing himself.

I shrugged. “Pretty much.” My mind was racing, my lips slipping again, as I began jabbering away
about my family, what I did every day and church life. He listened intently or perhaps politely, I
wasn’t sure which. He would ask questions and I would answer. It seemed to go on for quite awhile
like this. He was poking and prodding me about my life. I finally sighed and leaned my head up
against the wall beside me, feeling exhausted from having to remember all the dull aspects of myself.
“So,” I said. “That basically sums up me.”

He nodded, and I wondered how bored he truly was. “Which is who exactly?”
I thought for a moment and then smiled. “I guess the girl sitting across from you right now.”
“See?” he said. “That realization right there, that’s interesting.”

I saw his eyes move down to my lips and then slowly back up to my eyes. I immediately looked
down at my hand. “I don’t know.”
“You do know who you are. There’s not a classification system to it. You can’t just say one word
and be like, yeah, that’s who I am. You stick to what you know, what you believe in, and that’s who
you are. And let me tell you, Anna, that’s rare.”

“Rare? Me?” I chuckled. I had always felt so completely ordinary. Sheltered, yes, definitely, but
still very ordinary.

 

“Someday you’ll realize that I’m right.” Emry blinked his eyes warmly at me.

“I want to know
something
about you. I know nothing. It’s not really fair.” Now I was the one
waiting for a reaction, but I found none. He didn’t say anything, so I decided it was safe to go on.
“How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-two.”
Finally, an answer.
“I’m six foot three, blue eyes, brown hair,” he added, grinning.

I couldn’t help but smile in return. Perhaps my being here did make him somewhat happy then, at
least enough to forget his sadness for a brief period of time.

 

“Where did you grow up?” I thought I may as well continue while I was on somewhat of a roll now
that the focus was no longer aimed toward myself.

“Right here in Seneca.”
“You did?”
“Why does that surprise you?”

I pinched my lips together with my teeth and then released them as I felt the sudden self-inflicted
pain. “Because I know a lot of people in Seneca or have at least heard of them between my father’s
church and the store.”

He ran his fingers through his hair once more, such a simple action, yet wonderful and graceful as
he did so. My eyes watched the strands of hair fall toward the back of his head. “Ever heard of Lainey
Tritt?”

I began to search my memory. Lainey Tritt. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but I kept drawing
a blank when trying to pinpoint where I had heard of her before. “Sounds familiar.”

He paused and then continued. “Lainey Tritt adopted me when I was a baby.” He waited to see if
that triggered anything in my memory. It hadn’t. “She lives over near Canyon Park in a slummy part of
Seneca I guess you could say.”

Emry Logan was adopted. I didn’t know what this meant to me, but it seemed that it proved my
theory that he was out of place here. By the looks of him alone he didn’t belong to somewhere like
Seneca. I, of course, did belong in Seneca. I was average-looking. I could blend in easily. Even on my
best day I doubted someone would give me a double take as I walked by.

“Was she a good mother?” I asked when I realized he was not giving me any more information
willingly.
His head went to the side and back up again. “Lainey did the best she could with what she had.”

“Does she visit you here?”

 

“I told you no one visits me here. She’s got dementia really bad. She’s not doing too good. It
wouldn’t surprise me if she didn’t remember me at all anymore,” Emry said.

I was horrified by his words. Not remember him? How could someone forget Emry Logan? He
hadn’t said one impolite word to me the entire time I’d been sitting here. He was trapped and all
alone, and I just couldn’t wrap my mind around someone forgetting all about him.

A big heavy door slammed shut on the other side of the room. A police officer came stomping in.
“One minute!” he shouted out to all of us.

I glanced back at Emry, panic settling in my eyes. He realized that I didn’t want to go and smiled.
“This won’t be the last time we talk, is it?” I quickly blurted out. I must be losing my mind.

I heard him chuckle into the phone. He seemed genuinely delighted by my comment. “That all
depends on you, my dear.”

 

“I hate this plastic screen thing. It makes me feel like a prisoner, too,” I said, wrinkling up my nose
to show him my disgust.

Emry’s smile faded and he looked down, his sadness returning.
“I’m sorry you’re here,” he whispered. “This is a terrible place for you to be.”
“I’m here because I want to be.”
“Can I write to you?” he asked.

I saw most of the people around me already standing up and heading toward the door, their
conversations already ended.

“It’s probably not the best idea,” I warned him. “I’ll come back though, if you want me to.” Our
eyes met.
“Yes, of course I do.”

“Time’s up.” The officer took a step my way.

 

“Goodbye, Emry Logan.” I forced myself to smile as I hung up the phone, but my heart felt heavy
and I didn’t want to go. I had barely found anything out.
Chapter 3

The next week went by painfully slow. Every waking thought I had belonged to Emry Logan. It
became apparent to me that I was becoming obsessed. Obsessed with finding out about him, why he
was in jail, the next time I would see him and all about his life. It was exhilarating yet exhausting at
the same time. And then I started to feel depressed again. Winter was still trying to move in. The air
remained brisk and cold but snow had yet to remain on the ground. I didn’t know when I would be
able to see him again. My mood was altered by the moment. I was hoping my family wouldn’t be able
to notice the changes in me, though I had my doubts. It felt as if I jumped at any little question they
asked me, fearing that they thought something was off. I was fearful that they’d start asking me
questions about my emotions, and I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to handle those questions, or
more specifically, handle the lies that I knew I would tell them.

I walked through the motions of every day like I was supposed to, like what was expected of me,
but my mind was never where I was. I was constantly picking at my brain and plotting my next move,
but I had to be so careful. I couldn’t keep going down to the jail every day to talk to Emry. I couldn’t
be Amy Wright. No one ever visited Emry and for his sister to suddenly show up and be there all the
time would be a dead giveaway. I was going to get caught if I wasn’t cautious, and I wasn’t sure how
to do that quite yet.

Buck was on my mind as well. He was the one that would recognize me immediately if he saw me
at the prison. I was trying to think of a way to get around Buck. I had to memorize his schedule, and
the only way I knew how I could do that was to actually get to know Buck better as a friend. I wasn’t
very good at female friendships let alone having one with a male. I didn’t really know how to go
about it exactly. Everything seemed so risky. I felt caged in, a prisoner in my own house, just like
Emry. I felt so helpless. Why did things have to be so difficult? Furthermore, I kept questioning over
and over again why I was so focused on the very thought of Emry Logan. After hours and days of
tearing myself up about it, I finally gave in. He wasn’t disappearing from my mind, so I decided to
stop focusing on the reasons why this was happening to me. I had to focus on other things, like trying
to get closer to Buck in order to get closer to Emry.