Diamond Mine (6 page)

Rory reached her side. One leg
buried
knee
-
deep in the rosebush hole while the other lay bent on top of the ground. He extended his hand and pull
ed
her free.
He
introduced himself.
“
Hullo. I
'
m Rory Chance.
”

Her hand came forward to grasp his
,
and as it did
,
she placed her weight on both her feet
,
yelp
ed, and
fell forward into his chest.

Rory swept her into his arms and carried her to the porch. Setting her gently on one of the lounge chairs, he
commanded,
“
Don
'
t move.
”

Inside the kitchen he located an icepack.
When he returned,
she lay
against the cushion. The girl was more beautiful in this position than she had been while in motion.

She opened her eyes
and
a look of mirth
formed
in their green depths
.
“
I didn
'
t move.
”

Heat rushed to his cheeks, a completely new
sensation
for him. He was a charmer, lucky with women.
He made them blush, not the other way around.
So why did this one make him feel awkward?

He shook his head to free his thoughts.
“
Indeed you didn
'
t
.
”

The icepack
hurt
his hand. He wanted to touch her leg
—
no her ankle, but was so thrown by her beauty
,
he was having trouble communicating past the last few words spoken.

A smile tugged her lips and
she stretched her hand forward.
“
Allow me to introduce myself. I
'
m Hannah Baker.
”
When she twisted to reach him, the smile turned into a grimace. Here was his chance.

“
It
'
s very nice to meet you, Hannah.
Now
,
if you please
,
stretch out your leg and let
'
s have a look at your ankle.
”

Tenderly
,
Rory removed her shoe and sock. He marveled over the smooth feel of her skin and the well
-
defined muscle of her calf. To cover his discomfort, he made noises under his breath and a great show of studying the swollen, purpl
ing
area.

“
Well, Dr. Chance, is it broken?
”

Raising his head to gaze into her eyes, he noted her smile had returned. At least she wasn
'
t angry with him.

“
I don
'
t believe so. But I think you should stay off of it for awhile and wear this ice pack. Make sure to rotate it off and on at fifteen minute intervals.
”

“
Okay. But I might need to borrow your phone.
”

“
Of course.
”
He left her and hurried inside to fulfill her request.

After giving her the phone, he walked to the other side of the porch and sat down. He shouldn
'
t
have
eavesdrop
ped
, but he did.

“
Mom?
”
she said, pausing to allow a response.

“
Okay. Just tell her I went for my jog and I
'
m taking my time
.
”
P
ause
.
“
Thanks.
”

Turning off the phone, she laid it on
the
table. Rory didn
'
t come near until she started talking.

“
You
'
re new here, aren
'
t you?
”

“
Yes.
”

“
Are you from England? Because I
'
m detecting a distinct British accent.
”

“
I am.
”

“
Okay. Now I have another question.
”

“
Of course.
”
Rory was prepared for anything. She could ask him out, she could ask for a kiss, she could ask for the moon.

“
Why in the world are you digging gigantic holes in your yard? I could have broken my leg! Okay, admittedly I should have been paying more attention to where I was going. I
'
m bad for daydreaming and making up stories in my head
,
but this time wasn
'
t my fault. Although my mom will never believe me. Oh man! I hope my ankle looks better before I get home. She
'
ll have me at the emergency room. She
'
ll make them give me a cast just to make sure I don
'
t move and hurt myself worse. And…
”

Rory felt like he
'
d been r
u
n over by a Mack truck
.
Didn
'
t the girl breathe?

She must have noticed his expression because she looked at him and said,
“
Sorry.
”

She bowed her head
,
and
pink tinged her cheeks
. Obviously she hadn
'
t meant to shoot off at the mouth as she had.

“
Rory, forgive me. I don
'
t normally go all ballistic like that. Especially with people I don
'
t know. It
'
s just, well, you
'
re making me feel a little, hmm, awkward.
”

Rory couldn
'
t fathom what she meant. Cool air blew across the porch and fell across his flushed skin
,
and he realized he was only half
-
dressed. His
t
-shirt
lay across his shoulder
,
dripping wet
with sweat.
He walked inside and found a clean one.
When he came back, he held out a glass of tea.

He pulled
up a chair
and
sat next to her.
“
Better?
”

“
Yeah,
”
she took a sip.
“
Why are there huge holes in your yard?
”

“
My mum is planting roses.
”

“
Oh.
”
She squirmed.

“
Are you all right?
”

“
Yeah, it
'
s just
…
”
P
ausing, she sighed.
“
I feel bad for you.
”

“
Excuse me?
”

“
Rory, those holes are too close to the sidewalk.
”

“
What? I don
'
t understand. Just because you fell—
”

“
No, I
'
m not saying it because of that. That was my own fault. You see
,
this is a gated community
,
and it has certain rules. One of said rules is no bushes or flowers can be planted within two feet of the sidewalk.
”

“
Oh
.
”
H
e frowned. That meant he
'
d wasted the whole day. Since he had nothing else to occupy his time, he guessed it didn
'
t really matter. Whether he liked it or not
,
by the end of summer he was going to be an expert hole
-
digger.

His flesh felt hot
,
and he looked down to see Hannah
'
s hand resting on his arm.

“
Rory, don
'
t worry. I
'
ll help you. We just need to fill in these holes and dig new ones.
”

“
Why would you do that?
”

She shrugged her shoulders and grinned.
“
I like your accent.
”

He helped her home, which wasn
'
t hard since she only lived a few houses away. But true to her word, she returned to help with the roses.

A bird cawed and drew him back to the present. Rory dug around the roots of the tree, realizing how fruitless it was to rehash the past. That whole summer, he had talked and visited with Hannah. It had started as a friendship, just hanging out and having a good time while in America.

But she became his pet project. The girl had needed serious help when it came to talking to people. Prone to run on and on, he found himself smiling secretly at her antics. A vivid imagination had kept the girl in trouble with her mother, stepfather, and a dozen other people at any one time.

Before he'd realized it, he had to leave. He hadn't told Hannah that he spent most of his year in London with his grandfather. He hadn't told her that he'd spent most of this summer begging not to return home.

One day, under false pretenses, his mother took him on an excursion and dropped him and his luggage at the airport. She had claimed his father was furious that he was a week behind schedule. It seemed his father was home and wanted to see Rory before he left again. Rory hadn't even had time to tell Hannah goodbye.

Arriving in England, Rory had written Hannah a letter of explanation, but he'd never received a reply. On more than one occasion, he had attempted to contact her, but always there was nothing.

The next summer his mum had moved again. He had borrowed her car and drove to the old neighborhood. He had pulled into Hannah's driveway and an empty feeling had encompassed his gut. No curtains hung in the large bay windows. Knee-high grass had covered the front lawn. It had been obvious Hannah wasn't there.

The sun felt hot against his back. He paused and ran a rag over his sweaty face. Placing the rag in his back pocket, he continued to dig.

Eventually he'd found Hannah. How could he not? Although the author's name read April Desray, her picture had clearly decorated the back of several romance novels.

Before his accident, a brief investigation had led him to discover her new home.

As he had sat outside the building, a longing had grown in his gut and his heartbeat had increased. All he'd had to do was approach the door and knock. He'd wondered about what would happen. Would she fall into his arms and declare her love? Would she tell him to get lost and leave her alone?

Fear had caused him to turn around and leave. He'd had no rights to her then or now. What's done is done. There was no going back. When they said you can't go home again, they meant it.

Staring at the setting sun, he propped up on the shovel handle. Muscles tense, his mind wandered.
Where is Hannah Baker now?

Hannah had imagined a grandiose two-story white house with a comfy wraparound porch. Melanie and Korzan would be sitting in rocking chairs, sipping ice tea and watching their multitude of orphaned children run around a grassy yard. But what she found was vastly different.

The cabby drove along a dirt lane, deeply rutted and devoid of trees. The grass was brown, crunchy, dead. The white two-story was actually a wood cabin with mud for mortar. It was no larger than an American trailer from a 1970s trailer park. Instead of the sounds of playing children, Hannah was struck by barren silence.

The cabby faced her. “Here you are — Grace Children's Home.”

“Are you sure?” Hannah couldn't refrain from her incredulous tone.

“Yes.”

“Would you mind waiting until I see if someone's home?”

The cabby nodded, and a wide grin tugged at the corner of his pink lips. Obviously the man had glanced at his hidden meter and realized he had a big fat pay-off coming.