Leaving Paradise (Leaving Paradise #1)

Leaving Paradise (Leaving Paradise #1) Page 20

"Why don't you have a seat and make yourself comfortable, Lou," Mom says nervously, her hands fidgeting with the black, sophisticated dress she decided to wear. "Would you like a drink? Wine ... brandy ... soft drink?"

Mr. Reynolds smiles, a warm smile that I can tell is sincere. "Surprise me."

Mom laughs, a sweet, soft laugh I haven't heard in years.

When Mom is in the kitchen, Mr. Reynolds turns to me. "How is it back at school after being away for a year?"

I shrug. "It's okay, I guess."

He stares out the window. Where's my mom? The clock on the fireplace mantle is ticking, each second a reminder of how time is passing so slowly.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Mr. Reynolds rubs his hands together. I can tell he's as eager as I am for my mom to come back. Tick. Tick. Tick.

I want to excuse myself and hide in my room. I don't think I can handle watching my mom on a date with someone other than my dad.

Just as I'm about to stand up and excuse myself, she comes in with three drinks and a big smile. "Martinis for us, Sprite for Maggie."

Mr. Reynolds takes the glass from my mom. Their hands touch slightly when she hands it to him. I know I encouraged her to invite Mr. Reynolds over, but he's too big, too blonde, and ... and he's not my dad.

I stand up.

Mom looks at me, her expression wary. "Where are you going, sweetheart?"

"To my room. I forgot to call Danielle."

Mom has this puppy dog look on her face; I think she knows I'm lying.

In my room I open the top drawer of my desk. In an envelope I keep my dad's phone number. My hands are shaking as I dial his number.

It rings three times before he answers. "Jerry Armstrong here."

"Urn ... Dad?"

"Maggie, is that you?"

"Yeah."

"How's my little girl holding up?"

"Fine.

"And your leg? The last time we talked you were having a bit of trouble."

"It's better, I guess."

It feels good to talk to my dad. Hearing his familiar voice takes away the black cloud that always seems to hover over me. I don't want to tell him the truth about my leg because I only want to share good news. If I'm positive, then maybe he won't want to forget I'm his daughter.

"Great. And school?"

I swallow the reality and say as cheerfully as I can, "Perfect. I'm getting all As," I lie. "Wow."

There's silence, but I don't want him to hang up. I feel desperate. He sounds enthusiastic, but I'm not sure.

"How's your mother doing?" he finally says, breaking the silence.

She's currently having a date with her boss in our living room. She's fine. "

"Glad to hear it. I miss you, sweetheart."

"I miss you, too. When can I see you?"

No matter how many times I promise myself I won't beg him, I fail. It's like something inside me snaps when I think he's going to end the conversation. I want to yell, Aren't I good enough? but I don't.

"Sometime soon, when business settles down."

The black cloud returns--I've heard those exact words before. Too many times.

"Maggie, can you do me a favor?"

I'm holding back tears as I say, "What?"

"Tell your mother I sent her a check last week. And to have her lawyer stop calling mine. It's costing me a fortune every time he calls, like a hundred and fifty an hour."

"I'll tell her."

Someone else is talking in the background and I can tell I'm losing his attention. "I have to take another call, sweetheart. I'm sorry, it's important. I'll call you soon."

"Okay. I love you, Dad."

"Love you too, Mags."

Click.

I swallow hard and lean my head back against the wall. As much as I tell myself not to, I'm crying. I'd love to throw myself onto my bed and sob into my pillow, but Mom'll probably hear me.

The phone rings, startling me. I'm still holding the cordless in my hand. Could it be my dad calling back so soon? He always says he'll call but never does. Maybe he's changed. Maybe he realizes after hearing my voice he misses me so much he can't stand it anymore. "Hello?" I say excitedly.

There's a hesitation on the line, then a female voice recording says, "This is High Spring Water Company reminding you that there's a special on our five-gallon water bottles for the month of October. If you'd like to order--"

I hang up the phone in the middle of the recording. God, I feel so alone. There's nobody in my life who remotely understands what I've been going through.

Except one person.

My fingers dial the Becker's number automatically before my brain can comprehend what I'm doing. "Hello."

It's him--Caleb. I don't even know what to say. "Maggie? I know it's you, we have caller ID." I forgot about that. "Hi," I mumble. "What's up?"

Tears come to my eyes. "I just... wanted to talk to you."

"Why are you crying? Are you hurt? Did you fall?"

I can't talk because I don't want him to know how weak I am ... how much I need his friendship right now. God, all those years I thought I would die if he didn't love me as much as I loved him. But now I realize how stupid I was.

"If you don't answer me, I'm coming over whether your mom's there or not." His voice is hard and commanding, and I know he means it.

"No, don't come over. Can you meet me at Paradise Park in ten minutes?"

"I'll be there," he promises.

I take the sleeve of my shirt and wipe at my eyes. "Caleb?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks."

I splash water on my eyes in the bathroom, tell my mom that I'm going over to Danielle's, and head for the park.

Caleb walks up a minute later wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a plain button-down shirt over it. He slows his stride when he sees me and, without a word, pulls me into an embrace.

Now I'm losing it, right into his shirt. I clutch onto him as the sobs start and don't stop. I let it all out--my mom's date, my dad's conversation, my confusion about it all. Caleb doesn't laugh, he doesn't pull away, he doesn't talk ... he just lets me be me.

When I settle down, I lean back and witness the mess I've made on his shirt. "I made your shirt all gross," I say between sniffles.

"Forget the shirt. What's going on? I couldn't understand a word you mumbled into my chest."

Now I'm half laughing and half crying. He looks down at my hand. I do, too. He slowly reaches out and takes my fingers in his. God, how I dreamed of us holding hands all those years ago. He'd take my hand in his and we'd walk down the street together. I look up at his eyes. Usually they're dark and brooding, but now I see a warmth there I'd never noticed before. He leads me to the old oak. We both sit down, then he leans back against the tree right next to me and lets go of my hand. "Okay, now talk."

It's easy because I don't have to look at him, I can just spurt out all the stuff that's going wrong in my life. I take a deep breath. I'm going to attempt to say it all without going into hysterics again. "My mom has a date over, her boss and Mrs. Reynolds' son. I think my mom likes him, but I don't know if I'm ready for her to start dating. I know it's selfish, but my dad has practically ignored me ever since the divorce. He's re-married, you know. And I think his wife wants a kid, as if he doesn't already have one. To top it off, my doctor said I should play tennis again, and every time I think about it my throat starts constricting and I have to remember to breathe ... and then I call you because you're the only one I feel I can talk to. Which is ridiculous because its you."

Caleb plays with a piece of grass he's plucked from the ground. "Do you think your mom would be happy with this boss guy?" he asks.

I think back to the way Mom laughed at the Fall Festival and how nervous she was tonight. "Yeah, I do. But that's the part that scares me. It's like ending a chapter in your life and starting over. A single mom, boyfriends ... so much has changed."

"You're stressing too much about what might be. Do something to take your mind off thinking about what might never happen."

"Like what?"

"Pick up a racquet."

"That's not funny," I say, already stressing and wanting to flee.

"I'm not trying to be funny, Maggie." I hear him sigh, a low breath that comes out slow. "Can I see your scars?"

Oh my God. "No." I shake my head feverishly while still staring at the ground. And I'm aware that my breathing just got heavier.

"Please don't freak out on me." I'm not.

"You are. I went to jail for doing something to you and I have no clue what it looks like."

I turn my head and I'm staring into his eyes, darker and more intense than I've ever seen them. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Do you remember the accident?" he asks, totally focused on my answer.

I shake my head.

"You remember nothing? Our conversation before the accident, me hitting you with the car? Nothing at all?"

"No. It's a big blank. I only know what people told me." He blinks, then looks away. "We fought, you and I."

"About what?"

He gives a short, cynical laugh. "Kendra."

I'm trying to breathe evenly so I don't give him a hint that I do remember. Every word he spat at me when I told him I loved him. It's the only part of that night that's crystal clear to me. The rest is stuck in a foggy haze. "I don't remember," I lie.

"You said she was cheating on me, that you saw her with some other guy but you wouldn't tell me who. You were right, you know," he says. "She was with Brian before I got put in jail." He's staring at me again, and this time I can't look away. "You also said you loved me."

I swallow, still mesmerized by his eyes. Those eyes that never gave me more than a glance a year ago are burning into mine. "I don't remember," I whisper.

"Maggie--" He takes my hand in his and places my palm against his cheek roughened with a day's worth of stubble. He turns his head and kisses the inner, sensitive part of my palm, his eyes holding my gaze. "I should have done this a year ago."

My heart flips over as he leans in and touches his lips to mine.

TWENTY-NINE

Caleb

I couldn't sleep last night, which is nothing new because every night is filled with restlessness. But last night it wasn't nightmares of jail keeping me awake, or the night of the accident and what I could have done differently. I was reliving what happened a few hours ago. Kissing Maggie was the stupidest thing I've ever done. But, looking into her sad eyes and vulnerable face made me want her more than I've ever wanted anything in my life.

Last night real emotions were flying. Last night honesty was flying. It felt so raw.

As I'm getting ready for school, I think about our conversation after the kiss. She was nervous, I could tell by the shaking of those lips against mine. She'd closed her eyes and clutched at me as our lips met. I swear I've never been more turned on. When I leaned back, she had a worried look on her face as if I was going to give her a flunking grade on her kissing skills.

I can't believe that happened, she'd said.

I don't even know how I responded. All I remember is this feeling of stupidity washing over me, and wondering what the hell made me kiss a girl I should avoid getting close to at all costs. But being close to her felt so damn right, I couldn't resist her. We've been through so much, our lives are meshed and we're stuck in this web together. The sick thing is, I don't want to get out of it.