Flying in Shadows (The Black Creek Series, Book 2) (7 page)

He cut right the chase. "Why did you do that?" Andy frowned, but it was hard to be
mad when being licked frantically.

"I'm... sorry about that. I just don't know what you see in her. Okay, dumb comment,
but how can you stand it? She's horrible. She's not your first
Candi
, either." Rose crossed her arms, lifting her hand to place her chin on her palm and
her knuckles over her mouth.

He was just as surprised at her bluntness. And hated that she was right. So, he decided
to just say it. "You're right."

"Of course I'm... what?"

"Don't rub it in."

"I hate to see you unhappy. You know, I haven't seen you really smile for a very long
time. Well, until this little guy." The dog looked like a boneless, black balloon
with fur. He was limber and on his back in puppy heaven as they both rubbed his belly.

"I can't dump her two weeks before prom."

"I could. But you're too nice."

Her hand felt warm as she laid it on his.

* * *

"Mom, are you sure about this?" Just days before the dance, Rose stood in front of
tri-mirrors with her toes and bony knees locked together. "You were right. I shouldn't
have put this off."

The dress was skin colored, except not her skin color. Hers was alabaster. The dress
was more of a nude. It wasn't one of those flared, Cinderella-type dresses. Sequined
fabric hugged from the halter strap around her neck to just above her knees.

"I'm too skinny. I have no boobs." She turned and looked at the back of the dress
that was open to low on her hips. "There's so much skin."

"You have long, muscular arms and legs, and our next stop is the boutique to buy you
a padded bra. Dave's not going to let you go low-cut anyway."

Rose sighed and turned to her. "Why do you always call him Dave when you speak to
me?
He
doesn't do that."

Her mother's shoulders dropped. "You're right. He's never thought of you as anything
except his daughter. Your father was a bad man, Rosemarie. I don't like to remember
him. I'll work on it. This is your day. Let's have fun."

Rose put up with her mom's brush-offs one too many times. She spun on her. "Yet, you
slept with him. He was a bad man and you slept with him anyway."

Her mom ran a hand through the top of her hair, then tucked one side behind her ear.
"Yes. I was young. And now I have you." She stepped to her and kissed Rose on the
cheek.

"I've never kissed a boy," Rose blurted out. "I'm eighteen years old and I've never
been kissed."

Her mom nodded as if she'd known that. How did they know these things?

"Teenage boys don't want to just kiss. I guess you'll need to know that."

Rose turned back to the mirror with hands firmly on her hips. "Okay. This is the one."

The shoes were outrageously expensive. Her mom said she wasn't going to be one of
those girls who had to carry her painful shoes before they even arrived at the dance.
She had rubber pads nailed to the bottoms to keep her from sliding, which added another
quarter inch to the already three-inch heels. But they were comfortable, and Rose
thought she was actually getting the hang of walking in them.

The birthday earrings were simple lines of beaded silver. The necklace wrapped loosely
around her neck with a line matching the earrings dropping between her nonexistent
breasts. She grabbed hold of her chest with both hands and sighed. Life wasn't fair.

* * *

Walking in the dark, Andy readjusted his tackle box, fishing poles and the plastic
grocery sack that carried two tubs of earthworms and a bottle of sunscreen. Moonlight
shone on the dark ripples creeping down Black Creek. He spotted a raccoon as he crossed
the bridge. Startled, the animal hissed at him. Andy stomped his foot and glared;
he was in no mood for it.

He wondered what the hell he was thinking when he'd first decided to date Candi. Okay,
he conceded to what he'd been thinking, but almost two years? He told himself he would
get through her dance, and then go over to her house first thing the next day to end
it and all of the maintenance that came with her. Never again, he vowed. He would
be more like his brother, Duncan. Casual relationships. No strings.

But first, he needed Rose.

She would calm him down and lighten his mood, help him feel normal again. He looked
at his watch and winced. What were friends for if you couldn't count on them to be
there? Even at this time of night. Or morning.

* * *

Rose slept soundly in her twin bed dreaming of her favorite spot at the zoo. In the
small rain forest building, she allowed a newly emerged monarch butterfly to dry its
wings on her apron while sharing facts about the insect to one of two visiting young
boys. The other threw pebbles into the nearby wishing pond. The sound of the small
rocks plunked as they hit the stone wall before dropping into the water.

Oh, crap. She woke and sat up straight. The noise came from outside, not in her head.
Through grinning teeth, she bit the nails on one hand and ripped her blankets off
with the other. As she hustled to her window, she realized it was still pitch black
out.

Grabbing the flashlight she always kept on her windowsill for just this occasion,
she lifted the window and found Andy with the beam. "I thought you didn't get home
until tomorrow," she whispered loudly.

"It
is
tomorrow." He held up fishing poles and tackle box.

"It's not tomorrow until the sun comes up." She smiled wildly as she pulled on her
jeans. This reaction she had to him had to stop eventually, she convinced herself.
It was
not
healthy.

"I've got the worms. Get down here."

Quickly, she tied her hair in a bandana, cleaned herself up and slipped on some sneakers.
Scribbling out a note for her parents, she left it on the kitchen table, then tiptoed
out without waking the puppy.

Mom and Dad,

I'm across the street, fishing the lake with Andy. I promised Mrs. Melbourne a game
of canasta but will be home in time for the hair thing. Can you handle Charcoal for
the morning? His treats (bribery) are in the box on the shelf over his leash.

Love you,

Rose

Chapter 6

A sense of familiar relief crept through Andy as Rose bounced out her front door drowned
in a thick, hooded and lined denim jacket.

"It's not even four o'clock. What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I've got fishing gear and night crawlers. What do you think I'm doing here?" He ground
his teeth at his curt tone but stopped short of apologizing. Looking to her, he knew
she understood, knew she wouldn't question him and that he was incredibly lucky to
have her.

She looked at him through the corners of her eyes. "I grabbed a couple of chairs,"
is all she said.

He was right. Lucky.

The morning was crisp and as still as his mood. He appreciated that she sensed it
as they fell into stride, meandering in silence. Birds were just beginning to roust
in anticipation of the sunrise. There were no streetlights along Rose's cul-de-sac,
but the moon was bright enough to light their way.

Together, they strolled around the end of the circle, past Lucy Melbourne's house.
White paint gleamed in the light from the moon, emitting the look of a well-kept,
feminine home. A pang spurred in his gut at the memory of Rose's lost great-grandfather.
He wondered how Lucy was getting along without him and thought it was best that Lucy's
faithful housemaid agreed to move in with her. The two of them somehow got along and
filled some of the empty space death left in its wake.

Next door to Lucy was the house his aunt and Duncan narrowly escaped the night of
the fire. When she married Nathan, Brie gave it and the insurance money to her sister,
keeping it in the family and the neighborhood a busy place. As usual, they cut between
their yards to get to the lake. He never tired of the look of it, no matter the season.
Small but pristine, the lake sustained the animal life he knew Rose adored.

Outlines of homes and floating docks shimmered in the water like a mirror in a dimly
lit room. They could hear the rhythmic trickle of the water as it ran over the spillway
and flowed into Black Creek. Wildflowers lined the water, waiting for the sun to illuminate
them.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Rose broke the silence.

"Not really." He stopped and watched the water. "I'm glad you're here."

"Sure thing. Is this okay?" She gestured to a spot near the spillway where the fish
liked to gather.

They startled a great blue heron that squawked much like a pteranodon before taking
off in the dark to a spot farther down the creek.

He answered Rose by pulling the straps of the folding chairs from her shoulder and
setting them up in the grass.

They could see the outline of the back of his house from where they sat. It was there
that they first met. She'd been five. His uncle bought the home when it was still
a run-down farmhouse and Nathan still a single dad, trying to raise two nephews orphaned
after the plane crash that killed Andy's parents.

Andy remembered it as an adventure, living out of a cooler and on mattresses for several
months while Nathan worked to restore the house from the ground up. The memories almost
made him smile. Almost. He thought of all that Nathan had done for him and his brother
and felt contentment.

Time with Rose was as natural as breathing. They never felt the need to fill silence
with shallow conversation. Both were simply comfortable in the presence of one another;
they could often communicate with just a look or gesture. On the other hand, he knew
he was brooding and that Rose wouldn't stand for it too much longer. The fish weren't
biting, not that that was why they fished anyway. The light was just beginning to
show when Rose leaned her pole against her folding chair and stood to stretch.

Her efforts at inconspicuous need a lot of work, he thought as he narrowed his eyes.
She tried to look casual as she faked a yawn and wandered slowly along the floodplain
that framed the creek bed.

"Don't even think about."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she stated matter-of-factly, looking over
her shoulder.

"The water's still cold. You'll freeze your feet."

She shrugged, took off her sneakers and rolled up her jeans.

"You'll be sorry, Rosemarie."

She lifted her feet, one then the other, into the frigid, spring water. The light
was up just enough to see bubbles erupting from the smooth surface. She reached in
and came out holding the back of a defensive crawfish between its front and back legs,
claws waving madly.

He smiled wide, stood and straddled his lounging chair, trying to look threatening.
"Don't you dare. Get that damned thing away from me."

Holding the angry crawfish in front of her, Rose ran toward him, chasing him from
his chair, calling him
chicken
all the way down the bank of the lake. He and Rose laughed so loud they scattered
a large group of mallards.

Stopping, he tried dodging. Damn she was fast. Rose maneuvered the snapping creature,
attaching it to the bottom of his jacket. It held on with one claw while Andy held
up his arms away from it. With one hand, he pinched the crawfish between its legs,
much like Rose had done. With the other, he hefted her over his shoulder and carried
them as they both squirmed in his grasp. He plopped her playfully in her seat before
tossing the guy back in the water.

Sticking her muddy feet out and away from her chair, she grinned at him. "You have
my favorite smile," she said as she wiped off the black mud.

Her compliment made him feel more than he could put his finger on. He could never
go wrong throwing rocks at Rose's window in the middle of the night.

The sun lifted in the sky too quickly—faster than either of them realized. They spoke
of the past few weeks and their plans for the summer, avoiding any mention of prom
or his summer in New York City.