So Over My Head (38 page)
Cherry peels the envelope open and pulls out a piece of paper. Her eyes scan the document for what seems like an eternity. Finally, with wide eyes, she gasps, and lets the paper fall to the ground.
Dolly swoops in to pick it up. “Well, if that don’t beat all. It’s a will. From Cherry’s parents, naming her as beneficiary of their estate, which is the Fritz Family Carnival.” She holds the paper to her chest. “You own the circus, Cherry.”
“That’s why Red wanted you gone,” I say. “He wanted to sell it and keep the money himself.”
“And make sure you weren’t around to contest it,” Luke adds. “He thought he had the perfect plan. And Betty knew it was here. She must’ve created the map to throw him off the scent.”
Ruthie shakes her head in misery. “I can’t believe I donated my artistic talents to those slimebags.”
Mickey grabs the will and reads it over. “So I guess the sale of the carnival is null and void now, since Red wasn’t ever the rightful owner. Cherry, what do you want to do? It is your legacy.”
Cherry pulls out a chair at the small table. “I want a family, not a full-time job. It was important to my parents, but that’s when we were together. I just want to stay here with you and Dolly.”
“And Peg,” Ruthie pipes in. “Don’t forget the dog.”
“And to think.” My brain swells with the possibilities. “If Peg hadn’t have come back, we would never have known any of this.”
“Betty had a heart of gold.” Cherry smiles at the thought. “But she wasn’t especially creative.”
“I guess it worked out like God intended.” Dolly goes to her young cousin and wraps her arms around her. “He was in this the whole time.”
“Crazy as it sounds”—Cherry’s eyes find mine—“I do believe you’re right. Because suddenly everything that seemed so wrong . . . feels just right.”
W
hen girls are silent, everyone knows we’re mad—or up to something. But when guys play the quiet game, it’s just a big mystery. It could be anything from
I’m ticked
to
I need a cheeseburger
.
“You haven’t said two words since we left the bank.” I stare across the dark SUV at Luke, watching the way the city light’s play on his skin.
He drives right by the carnival parking lot where my car waits, but he keeps going.
“Um . . . if you’re planning on running away with me, I should warn you I have a psychotic friend with lethal talents.”
Luke continues driving until he reaches the city park. Pulling into a spot, he kills the engine, walks around to my door, and holds it open. “Let’s talk.”
I step outside and notice he doesn’t offer me his hand. “Okay.” What does this mean? Was Ashley Timmons right? Did Luke reach his expiration point for how much of my waffling he could take? Can’t a girl change her mind? Can’t a girl play hard to get? It works in the movies!
Luke stretches out his hand and gestures to the swings. “Take a seat.”
I lower myself into a seat that cups my butt in ways that remind me I’m no longer six. “Luke, I’ve been wanting to tell you that I—”
“Bella”—he paces the dirt mound in front of me—“I can’t take this anymore. You obviously don’t want a relationship from me, aside from friendship, and I’ve come to realize for all your flirting, that’s your final answer.”
“But I’ve been flirting because I—”
“If you don’t trust me by now, after all we’ve been through, then there’s nothing I can say or do to help you or change your mind. You have to work this stuff out on your own. But I won’t be waiting for you when you get it together.” He drags his fingers through his hair and continues wearing a trail in the ground. “I realize you’ve seen a lot of crap and guys have let you down. But I’ve more than proven myself. I thought at some point you could just follow your heart and see what we had. But now I know you’re just not ready. And I’m backing off, okay?” He stops abruptly and drags in a deep breath. “I don’t know what I am to you . . . but it’s not your boyfriend.”
I watch a star fall in the sky beyond his shoulder. Leaning back, I push off with my feet and swinging once, I jump out right in front of Luke.
“You’re always talking.” I shove his shoulder. “Always telling me how it is. Well, do you want to know how
I
think it is?”
His Adam’s apple bobs. “I don’t think so.”
“I think you’re the most amazing guy ever.” I watch him try to control his look of shock. “You’re one of my best friends. You make me laugh, you’re scary smart, and I always know you have my back. And Mr. Editor, more than anything, I want to be your girlfriend. And maybe I will be looking over my shoulder and waiting for some-thing bad to happen between us, but that’s just going to take some time.” I step forward until we’re nearly nose to nose, and I clasp his hands in mine. “I’m crazy about you, Luke Sullivan. Tell me you’re still into me. Because if you’ve decided I’m too much trouble, I fully intend to sic Ruthie and her slingshot on you.”
His lopsided grin has my heart tripping. “I’m still going to be bossy in journalism.”
I roll my eyes. “Tell me something I don’t know.” Pivoting on my heel, I walk back to the swing and sit down.
Luke follows. He wraps his hand around the chains and bends down, his lips a breath away from mine. “I thought I had lost you tonight.”
I search his face. “We’ve suffered through maniac football players and that tiny explosion at prom. What’s a little smoke and flames?”
“Are you sure this isn’t just hero’s syndrome? I save you and you get all gushy?”
I can’t help but laugh “I never gush. But I also don’t share. No more hanging out with just Ashley and her brother. It’s not that I don’t trust you. But that girl is on the prowl.”
He nods. “Done. I’ll only hang out with one Timmons—Kyle.”
“Are you positive Ashley is out of the picture?”
“She was never even an option. I’m afraid you’re it for me. It’s kind of like a disease. I call it the plague of Bella.”
“You say the most romantic things, Chief.”
“I am a writer.”
I cover one of his hands with mine. “You might break my heart.”
“It’s possible.” With gentle fingers, Luke caresses my jaw. “But I’m sure gonna try not to.”
Luke pulls on the swing until his lips are a feather-light brush against mine. I slip my arms around his neck and curl my fingers in his hair. With his careful touch, I block out thoughts of evil and death. Memories of the haunted house burn away like ashes as I stand up and crush my mouth to his.
He rains small kisses on the side of my lips, my forehead, and my cheek . . . then pulls my head to his chest and strokes my hair.
“Luke?”
“Hmmm?”
“How are we going to handle dating and the newspaper?”
He rubs the tension at the base of my neck. “I tell you what to do and you’ll ignore me.”
“So . . . like normal?”
“Yeah.”
“Sounds good.”
Nothing like an attempt on your life to extend your school-night curfew. When I walk into my living room, it’s almost midnight. And the whole family is there.
Including Jake.
“Bella, good heavens.” The big guy rushes to me and nearly chokes me in his hug. “I came as soon as I heard.”
“Um, Jake?” I step away. “Why are you still in your pirate uniform?” I stare at his gold vest and black stretchy pants.
He shakes his head. “I was getting ready to go against Chainsaw when Mickey called. I rented a car and drove like a maniac. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I’m more than fine. I’m Luke Sullivan’s girlfriend! And I’m happy. “You didn’t need to drive all the way back just for me. We handled it.”
“That’s what I tried to tell him.” Mom sits on the couch with her feet curled beneath her. Robbie lies in her lap, passed out and wrapped in his cape.
“Close one tonight, sis.” Budge wiggles his bushy brows. “I almost got my bedroom back.”
“You can bet your Wiener Palace flair I wouldn’t give in that easy.”
“I’m sorry.” Jake clamps his arm around my shoulders. “I should’ve been here.”
I lean into him. “Hey, relax. We understand.”
Jake angles his head toward Mom. “No, there’s no excuse, and I’ve worn out your patience in understanding. I quit tonight.”
“What?” Mom lurches to her feet, accidentally dumping Robbie to the floor.
“Ow! Hey, what gives?” The little guy rubs his head.
“On the long ride back to Truman, I had a lot of time to think. And I’m sick of living without my family.” Jake kisses me on the head. “I almost lost one of you tonight—” He frowns at me—“Again.”
I shrug. “Narrowly escaping death does seem to be one of my pastimes.”
“Jake, you can’t just quit the WWT.” Mom moves beside us, and the wrinkle between her brows would have Dad breaking out the Botox. “This is your dream. You’ve worked too hard.”
“For what?” Jake throws up his hands. “To leave you alone to raise our family? I need to be here—for you, for the boys, and for Bella.”
Mom slants her eyes my way. “Keeping up with her does seem to be a full time job.”
“Jillian, I want my family back. This isn’t a decision I’ve just made in the heat of the moment. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, and I know this is the right thing to do.”
I step aside as my mother curls her arm around her husband. “Are you sure? What will you do, Jake?”
Budge groans and flops onto the couch with his brother. “Dad, you can’t go back to the pad factory.”
“If that’s what it takes. I’ll do whatever I need to do to support this family and be at home with the ones I love.”
“I think we should all join hands and sing a song now,” Robbie says. “Maybe a nice inspirational Josh Groban number?”
“Dude, my gag reflexes are already being pushed to the limit.” Budge reaches for his Coke on the coffee table.
“Are you sure about this?” Mom asks.
“Looking at all your faces, I’ve never been more certain of any-thing in my life.”
“Aw.” She gives Jake a quick kiss on the lips. “Group hug! Come on!”
Robbie, Budge, and I reluctantly make our way to our parents, piling arms and hands until we’re one big wad of family.
“I love you, guys,” Jake says.
“Love you!”
“Love you too!”
“Ditto.”
We stay like that for a long while until my heart overflows, my arms ache, and . . . my eyes burn.
“Budge . . . did you fart?”
“Oops.”
Ah, family.
They may be crazy, but I’ll take them—the good, the bad . . . and the stinky.
R
uthie looks great in her graduation cap and gown,” Luke says beside me, fanning the both of us with a program in the heat of the evening.
I watch my friend walk across the stage on the football field. The principal hands Ruthie her diploma, and she grins wide for the photographic moment. She shifts down the line to the superintendant, who frowns, then moves Ruthie’s tassel to the other side.
“Her hat is pretty clever.” Budge snaps a picture on my other side.
“And totally Ruthie.” Only Ruthie McGee would forego the graduation beanie and wear her motorcycle helmet. “But I like how her hair is in school colors.”
Luke intertwines my fingers with his and leans over to Budge. “Has she decided what she’s going to do yet?”