Little Blackbird (3 page)

“Pretty sure I couldn’t move far if I tried.” Geoffrey’s voice had grown thicker, slower, spilling heavy over the grass like turpentine. His arms splayed out beside him, palms facing up as though he was lying in a meadow soaking up the sunlight.

Kate grabbed the short boards and scarves. She tucked an aqua scarf beneath his calf and wrapped it around to the other side. Then she slid the purple scarf below his ankle. She propped the boards on either side of his leg before she lifted the scarves around the boards and tied knots, creating a tight bond around his leg.

“That should keep you from hurting yourself further,” she said. “Don’t put any weight on it. The splint will hinder movement until they come back for you.”

When she looked up at Geoffrey, his eyes were closed and his chin rested against his shoulder. Her heart slapped against her ribcage. She pressed her fingers against his throat.

He reached up a lazy hand and touched hers. “I’m not dead,” he mumbled.

She exhaled. The sound of an engine rumbled up the street. Kate pulled her hand away and shot to her feet. She couldn’t be with Geoffrey when they found him. What would people say? She could already hear their voices.
What did she do to him? What was she doing out there alone anyway? She’s crazy, you know, especially after they lost Evan.
Kate glanced down at him, feeling guilty for leaving him alone, but still she raced up the street toward her house. Behind her, she heard raised voices and car doors slamming. She didn’t stop running until she reached her backyard.

T
WO NIGHTS LATER, Kate awoke in the darkness of her room. A shadow stretched from her window, across her floor, and over her blankets. She thought of Peter Pan coming to the Darlings’ window, but the man at her window was tall and thin and too old to be called a boy. She sat up and pulled the blankets toward her chest.

The young man outside the window rapped his knuckles against the glass. She inhaled and cut her eyes to her bedroom door. She knew she should have gone straight for her parents, but she didn’t. Instead, she wrapped the blanket around her to conceal her nightgown, closed her bedroom door, and tiptoed toward the window because she recognized his dark silhouette—Geoffrey.

Her fingers trembled as she reached for the window latch. She slid up the sash and waited because she couldn’t get her mouth to form any words. In all of her imaginings, she’d never once pictured Geoffrey outside her window.

“Finally,” he whispered, “you sleep like the dead. I’ve been knocking for ages.”

Her eyes widened. “How did you know I was here?”

“What? In the middle of the night? In your house? Lucky guess,” he said, and he smiled at her for the first time ever.

She leaned away from the shine of a smile directed at only her. It pulled all the air from her lungs, and she inhaled sharply. She looked over her shoulder at her bed to see if her body was still tucked beneath the covers. Could this be a vivid premonition? Why else would Geoffrey Hamilton be standing outside her house? But her bed was empty, and the humid air rolled into the room through the open window.

“What are you doing here? You don’t visit strangers in the middle of the night.”

He chuckled. “You’re not a stranger. I know who you are,” he said.

She shook her head, and pieces of hair tumbled from her loose braid. “You know nothing about me.”

“I know you live here,” he said, smiling again, turning the air around him purple and playful. Lightning bugs flickered messages in the trees behind him.

“The amount of information you know about me is staggering.”

Geoffrey burst out laughing, and Kate immediately shushed him. He slapped a hand over his mouth, but she almost wished he hadn’t. She wanted to bottle his laughter and hide it beneath her pillow. She wanted to bring it out on those nights when she laid awake eating lavender.

“Come outside,” he whispered.

“What? No,” she said, looking at her bedroom door. It was still closed, but the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. She sensed her mama turning over in her sleep down the hallway.

“Come on,” he begged. “Just for a minute. I didn’t get to thank you properly for helping me.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Now go before my parents wake up.”

Geoffrey leaned one arm on the windowsill. “Come outside and have a proper conversation with me.”

When he smiled again, the moon drew nearer. Kate felt herself leaning toward him, drawn in by the pull of his smile. She forced herself away from the window.

“There is nothing proper about a conversation in the middle of the night with a young man.”

Geoffrey laughed again. “Oh, come on. Cool it. I just want to talk. No one will even know.”

She wanted to slam her window shut, jump into her bed, and cover her head until the morning. But even more than that, she wanted to go outside. She wanted to be near Geoffrey.

“Is this some sort of trick?” Kate asked. Were there others waiting outside just to laugh at her for thinking someone like Geoffrey Hamilton would want her to sneak out of her house with him?

He frowned. “Why would I trick you?”

“Are you alone?” Kate asked.

“Yeah.”

“How did you get here?”

“I rode a horse.”

Kate’s brow furrowed, and he smiled again. At
her
.

“I drove, of course, and it wasn’t easy. Are you coming out or not?”

Kate felt a lightness in her chest as though a balloon had expanded and lifted her onto her tiptoes. She immediately shook her head. “No.” Then she closed the window.

Geoffrey’s shadow lingered outside. He didn’t move. They stood in a silence so profound that Kate heard her heartbeat thundering around the room sounding like a freight train barreling through Mystic Water. Geoffrey reached out and tapped the glass. Moonlight reflected off his dark hair. He tapped again.

Kate bit her bottom lip and raised the window a few inches. She squatted down, propped her fingers on the sill, and whispered through the crack. “You said thank you, now go away.”

Geoffrey’s long fingers stretched through the narrow opening and touched Kate’s fingertips. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Not until you come outside. Are you going to make me beg again?” His voice slipped through the opening and warmed her cheeks, circled her chest and squeezed. “Please?”

Without a doubt, Kate knew she should say no again, but instead, she said, “Let me change. Go down to the river and take a left. I’ll meet you beside the magnolia tree.”

“Sounds like you give these directions often. How many men come to your window at night?” he asked.

Her chin dipped down. “Go,” she said as she closed the sash.

Halfway down to the river, Kate began to think meeting Geoffrey was a terrible idea. She slowed her pace as she approached the tree because she didn’t see him anywhere. Had he changed his mind and run off? Had it really been a trick? The river gurgled, and fireflies blinked across the water.

“Psst.”

Kate looked into the shadowy stand of trees nearby. Her heart hammered so hard that her whole body pulsed with the fast-paced rhythm.

“I’m over here,” Geoffrey said. “I can’t get my leg wet.”

His leg
? Kate followed the sound of his voice and found him sitting on a boulder, stretching out his long legs. That’s when she saw the short, white cast glowing in the darkness like a snow boot. A pair of crutches lay across the ground beside him.

“Broken?” she asked.

“Fractured my fibula, but you knew that didn’t you?” he said. “You’re a regular Florence Nightingale.”

“That’s an exaggeration.”

He pointed toward a spot by the river. “You know there’s a bench over there.”

Kate paused and then glanced over her shoulder. “It’s a…special bench.”

Geoffrey grinned. “I see. Not meant for strangers in the night?” He patted the boulder with his hand. “Won’t you sit down?”

She clutched her hands together in front of her. “I’m comfortable standing, but thank you.” She knew she’d come apart at the seams if she sat near him. Her body was already humming with energy. In the moonlight, his bruises looked like ink smears across his pale face. “You look better.”

He smirked. “Get outta here. I look like I got in a fight with Sugar Ray Robinson.”

Kate allowed herself to smile. “Okay, so maybe you look worse, but the cut on your forehead is healing.”

“Because of your Indian magic,” he said with a smile. He touched his forehead with his fingertips. “It stopped bleeding and hurting, and my dad couldn’t believe it was already healing without stitches.”

Kate frowned. The differences between them seemed to glow like the fireflies in the trees. Even in the darkness, she couldn’t hide the fact that she wasn’t like Geoffrey.

Evan always had a way of fitting in with everyone around him. People found ways to be near him, ways to make him laugh just so they could hear it. No one seemed to care that
he
was half-Indian because he was handsome, athletic, charismatic—the opposite of Kate.

“It wasn’t
Indian
magic. I used plants that grow around here. If people took any time to study herbs, they’d find there are hundreds of ways the earth can help them heal.”

“Okay, okay, don’t have a cow. I was trying to say that whatever you did worked well. And thank you.”

“I should get back inside.”

“You just got out here.”

The moonlight reflected in his pale eyes, and Kate knew she had to look away. She had to turn around and march herself home, close her bedroom door, and forget about Geoffrey Hamilton.

“You wanted to express your appreciation, and you have. Goodnight.”

Geoffrey leaned over and grabbed his crutches. He hoisted himself from the boulder and wobbled for a moment.

“Goodnight, Miss Muir.”

Kate made a noise in her throat. “Miss Muir sounds like you’re talking to my mama. Kate’s good enough for me.”

Geoffrey grinned. “Then, goodnight, Miss Kate. I hope to see you again soon.”

She wasn’t sure she wanted to see him again. Perhaps once was enough, because already her heartbeat was erratic and her fingers twitched. Seeing him a second time felt like a dangerous idea, a fuse already burning toward a stick of dynamite. She turned and fled toward her house without looking back at Geoffrey.

K
ATE WANDERED UP and down the aisles in the candy shop. She knew she’d end up with a bag full of Bonomo’s strawberry taffy, but she loved looking at all the wonderful colors of sweets nestled in their jars and wondering how each would taste. Finally, after circling the store three times, she grabbed a pink paper bag meant for filling with candies and stopped in front of a bin full of taffy.

She shoveled in half a bag before returning the scoop to the bin. She folded down the top of the bag as the door opened and jingled the shop’s bell. Geoffrey Hamilton and one of his older brothers Matthias walked in. Matthias held open the door while Geoffrey maneuvered inside with his crutches. Kate bent down to pretend to retie her laces, but she’d worn sandals. She rose slowly and peeked over the tops of the candy bins.

Matthias and Geoffrey laughed with the young, blonde cashier, Sally Rensforth, who was a sophomore like Kate. Sally’s hair was curled and held back with bobby pins, leaving fat, smooth curls to frame her heart-shaped face. She wore cherry-red lipstick and black mascara. Kate had always envied Sally because of her blue eyes and blonde hair. Sally fit right in with people like the Hamiltons. Sally laughed, and the air shimmered. From his profile, Kate could see Geoffrey’s smile, and even from across the room, it tugged her toward him. She blinked rapidly and tried to imagine an escape route.

Everyone in town knew the Hamilton men—which included Geoffrey and his brothers, Benjamin, Richard, and Matthias, and their daddy—had smiles that could enchant anyone. Daughters were warned as toddlers to avoid looking directly into the face of a Hamilton man because if he smiled, then all would be lost, mostly hearts. Kate had never believed the nonsense until Geoffrey stood outside
her
window and she was the object of his attention. Now she felt her pulse beating through her entire body as though her heart might try to escape from the weakest point. She pressed her hands against her chest and knew she needed to get out of the shop without him seeing her. She bent down again and inhaled three deep breaths before coming up with a plan.