Leap of Faith (17 page)

They play for an hour, and I’m sweaty and high on adrenaline from dancing. Then Chris waits until the crowd calms down and steps back up to the microphone.

“The last song is one I wrote a few days ago. It’s for a sweet girl who came into my life and saved me, but she doesn’t know it.”

He counts his band in and begins to play a slow, beautiful song, accompanied only by a smooth drumbeat. My throat constricts, holding back tears as he sings about holding her in his arms and watching her sleep. It might sound like it’s about a woman he loves, but I know it’s about Addy.

I can’t hold it in any longer, and tears stream down my cheeks. His eyes find me standing below him. They stay locked on mine until the song’s finished, and he steps back from the mic to a thunderstorm of applause.

The drummer’s girlfriend grabs my arm. “Come on,” she slurs, and pulls me backstage.

Chris is sitting on a metal folding chair wiping his face with a towel, his guitar in its case at his feet. My heart thuds like it never has before.

He smiles when he sees me. “Hey.”

“Hey.” I tuck my hair behind my ear as I approach him.

“What’d you think of my last song?” He pulls me down onto his lap, plunks his grandpa’s cap onto my head, and kisses me.

“I loved it. When did you write it?”

“Tuesday night, after you fell asleep. I watched Addy for about two hours and wrote down everything that came into my head.”

I stroke his cheek, then kiss him. “It was the best birthday gift I’ve ever gotten.”

He grabs my shoulders. “It’s your birthday?”

I smile sheepishly and nod.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. Just didn’t.”

“
Leah!
You have to tell me things like birthdays.” He stands up, putting me onto my feet, and takes my hand. “Nineteen. You’re an old lady.”

“How old are you?” The word “jailbait” flits through my head.

“I’ll be twenty in September.”

Twenty?
Whoa.

“We have to find some cake. What’s your favorite flavor? Chocolate?” His eyes are excited.

“Cake?”

“Uh, yeah. Birthday cake. Ever hear of it?” He laughs and picks up his guitar case. “See ya,” he shouts to his bandmates, waving a hand over his head.

“Later,” Aaron says.

I lift my hand and give a quick wave. Being around his friends makes me feel awkward and anxious after the disastrous practice session I bolted out of.

In his pickup, in the parking lot of the local grocery store, we stuff chocolate cake into our mouths, and into each other’s mouths.

He kisses me, licking frosting from my lips.

Things have been heating up between us. We’ve gone beyond kissing when Chris comes upstairs to watch TV at night, and for the first time ever, I don’t want to slow them down. I know he’s the one. I will be devirginized after all.

Just thinking about it makes me hot and tingly. But there’s a big flaw in my plan. He thinks I’ve had a baby. How can I explain that I’m a virgin? I don’t think it’s something I can hide.

“Let’s go home.” I suck frosting from his fingers. “I don’t need any more cake.”

He kisses me fiercely. “Do you need me?”

I kiss him back, just as fierce. “Soon.”

He leans his forehead against mine. “God, I hope it’s soon.” His laugh’s husky and deep like always.

• • •

We lie in my bed, under the covers, in nothing but our underwear. Mrs. B insisted on keeping Addy at her house overnight so I could get a night of uninterrupted sleep.

Chris lowers his head and kisses my bare breasts, then lays his head on them. “Leah?”

“Chris?” I stroke his hair.

“I love you.” He looks up at me. “I know it’s only been a month, but I do. I love you.”

If I tell him I love him, I have to come clean. I can’t admit to loving someone who doesn’t even know my real name. “Are you trying to get me to have sex with you?” I laugh.

He rolls his eyes and lays his head back down. “Maybe.” He sounds disappointed. How could he not be, putting his feelings out there and not hearing those words back?

I’m a horrible person. He should hate me.

I tangle my fingers in his hair, intent on keeping him near me. I’ll never let go. I’ll tell him everything, just not right now.

• • •

Gail’s picnic table is gouged, and the wood stain faded. We sit across from each other with glasses of sweet tea and a bowl of chips between us. Jonathan rides his red Power Wheels Jeep around the backyard. Addy’s inside, where it’s cool, napping in her stroller. We left the French doors cracked so we can hear her if she cries.

Gail has her head in her hands, her elbows propped on the table. “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she says.

My mind won’t focus on anything but the words “I love you” ringing through my head in Chris’s voice from last night, but I’m trying to be attentive since Gail has her own issues. “What’s going on, Gail?” I pop a chip into my mouth and watch as Jonathan gets dangerously close to crashing his Power Wheels into a tree.

“He doesn’t want me.” She collapses her arms. Her head falls on top of them.

“Who?” I didn’t realize she wasn’t over her ex-husband. I’m so not good with this. I have no idea what to say to a woman whose husband has bolted. I can’t even remember my own dad leaving.

As if she didn’t hear me, she says, “He’ll never get over his dead wife.”

Picking up my glass, I freeze halfway to my lips. “Huh?” I must have missed something. What the hell are we talking about again?

“I’m in love with him, and he doesn’t even want me.” She starts sobbing into her arms.

I’m so not good at sympathy. I pat her head. “It’s going to be okay. It’ll all work out.”

“I should’ve listened to Janine. She said Ken wasn’t ready to start seeing someone yet.”

“Ken Buckridge? What are you talking about?”

She shakes her head under my palm. “Nothing. I shouldn’t have said anything. Just remember, Leah, the truth only screws everything up. I told him I love him, and he hasn’t called me in three days.”

Yeah. I’ve got the truth lesson down already.

Later, pushing Addy’s stroller home, my mind goes over what Gail revealed to me. Not just that she’s dating Mr. Buckridge but that his wife—Chris’s mom—is dead.

Truth smacks me in the face. I don’t know a lot about the boy I’m falling for, and he knows nothing about me.

That night, after Addy’s asleep and Chris and I are practically naked in bed, I run my fingers over his tattoo. One of the dates on the cross is no longer a mystery. Now I have to figure out the other.

• • •

“I can’t wait to show you something,” I tell Chris when he gets home the next night. If I didn’t have him to share this with, I would go nuts missing Hope. As it is, I’m dying inside wanting to call and tell her, but I know she wouldn’t understand why I’m so excited about it.

“Watch,” I say, lifting Add out of the hand-me-down baby swing Gail had given me. I lay her on her stomach on a blanket covering the floor.

She pushes up, puckers her face, shrieks once, and rolls onto her back.

Chris claps his hands. “You rolled over, Squirrel Girl! I’m so proud of you!”

I feel tears start to build in my eyes. He gets it. He’s excited with me. “Squirrel Girl?”

“That’s what we decided her superhero name would be. Squirrel Girl could communicate with the squirrels and run really fast.” He scoops her up and gives her a kiss on the cheek. “You love watching the squirrels, don’t you?”

He takes her over to the window. “What a big girl you’re getting to be. Don’t grow up too fast, though. I don’t want to have to kick boys out of the house yet.”

When he’s this happy and talks about the future, I feel so guilty, I could die. I know I have to tell him, but I don’t know how. The longer I let it go, the harder it is.

He puts her back into her swing and takes me in his arms. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

He leans his forehead against mine. “Sharing.” He gives me a soft kiss. “I’m going to take a shower. I’ll be back up.”

When he’s gone, I sneak downstairs. Making sure the water’s running and he can’t hear me from the bathroom, I hurry into his room in search of paper and unearth a song notebook he’s clearly forgotten under a pile of old Coke cans and other junk.

Back upstairs, I grab a pen and start writing him a letter—a letter revealing everything.

Dear Chris,

My name is Faith Leah Kurtz. I’m a kidnapper.

I’ll spill my guts, but on paper, not out loud. Someday I’ll be brave enough to give it to him.

chapter

seventeen

The sky’s light, but thunder has been rumbling for the past hour. “Tornado watch until seven,” the TV meteorologist says.

Fear darts through me. I hate tornado watches. If it turns into a warning, I’ll need to get Addy and take her to the basement—
fast
.

More thunder rumbles. I keep my eyes glued to the TV for weather updates.

The storm is moving in fast. I’m huddled with Addy, wrapped in a blanket. She knows something’s coming. She’s fussy. Chris is downstairs yakking with his dad like we’re not all about to die when the house is blown away. The cheeseburger and fries he picked up for me on his way home from work sit on the table in my kitchenette getting cold and rubbery. I’m too terrified to eat.

Thunder rolls and lightning cracks. I jump about a foot off the couch, and Addy cries. The air feels all wrong, like we’re on the verge of something, like someone’s picked up the earth and flipped it over. I can’t be alone up here one more second. “Chris?” I shout.

The door’s shut. He can’t hear me.

My feet kick the blanket off of us. I carry Addy over to the door and pull it open.

A whispered argument hits my ears before I can yell for him again.

“Those two up there are not Mom and Kayla. You can’t change things. You can’t make things right, Chris.”

“Dad, I’m not trying to. I know they’re not Mom and Kayla. That’s not—”

“Chris, I’m not dumb. I see what’s going on with you, even if you don’t.”

Chair legs screech across the floor.

“Don’t turn your back on me. I’m still your father. I’m the one—”

“You’re the one sleeping with the slut down the street. Yeah. I know.”

“Chris, don’t you even—”

I close the door fast, but silently. I don’t want to hear any more.

Collapsing back onto the couch, I press my hand against my mouth, shocked. What the hell just happened?

I hear footsteps pound up the stairs, and Chris throws the door open. He smiles, but I can tell it’s forced. His face is flushed, and he turns from me and walks to the sink, where he leans his hands on the counter and hangs his head.

“Are you okay?” I don’t want to let on that I heard what went on between him and his dad, but it’s obvious he’s upset.

He nods. “It’s cool.” He takes a deep breath and spins back around, then spies my food, untouched on the table. “Why didn’t you eat? Squirrel Girl fussy?” He comes toward me with his arms outstretched. “Here, I’ll take her while you eat.”

I shake my head, not wanting to let go. Holding Addy is comforting. “I’ll eat later. The storm has me freaked out.”

His face melts into its natural, warm expression as he drops down beside me and takes Addy and me in his arms. His lips meet the top of my head. “There’s nothing to worry about. We have about an hour left until the tornado watch expires.”

A flash fills the room, followed by a loud crack. I bury my face in his chest. “I hate that.”

“There are worse things than a thunderstorm.”

I trace my finger down his chest, over the spot where the cross tattoo hides under his shirt.

Kayla.

That’s the other date.

Kayla.

• • •

We open my bedroom window to hear the rain. Every now and then a cool breeze blows in and skims across our hot skin.

I love the weight of him on top of me.

I love how our fingers entwine and squeeze.

I love how his slow, deep kisses linger.

“Why won’t you let me make love to you, Leah?” he says, pulling his mouth away from my lips and moving on to my ear, where he nibbles.

My entire body is liquid. Hot, boiling liquid. “Is it too soon?” he asks.

I want to shout,
No!
I want him so badly, I might die. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.

But instead, I nod. Certain the minute we sleep together he’ll know I’m a liar and it’ll all be over. My body aches with deprivation.

He pushes himself up and hovers over me. “Too soon because you’re not sure how you feel about me? Or too soon physically because of the baby?”

Holy crap! He just gave me the answer I’ve been searching for. “I’m afraid it’ll hurt.”

He smiles, dips, and presses his lips to mine. “But you’re sure about us?”

“Very sure.” I wrap my arms and legs around him and pull him back down on top of me.

Ten minutes later, I’m tugging his boxer briefs down and begging him to go slow. His hands are reaching over the side of the bed for his pants, trying to get a condom out of his wallet.

The pain isn’t unbearable, and he’s so gentle, like he’s afraid I might break.

After a while, the pace picks up, and I’m wondering if I’m feeling something start to happen—a stirring of heat mingled with the stinging pain.

It’s over before I can be sure, and Chris is spent, lying on top of me, kissing my face. “I love you, Leah.”

“I love you too.” My breathless confession escapes my lips before I can stop it.

He rolls over, pulls me into his arms, and strokes my hair, running his fingers down my back. “God, I’m glad you’re here. Both of you.”

I’m so relaxed, my mind is blank, but thoughts fade in and out like a slide show.

I’m not a virgin anymore.

I didn’t think of my hoebag mom once and push him off.

I want to tell Hope all about tonight. I remember the first time she and Brian had sex. She came home, woke me up, and told me everything. Even what I didn’t want to know. God, my heart hurts. It’s an ache deep in my chest. I might be dying from missing her.

My palm rests over the dates on Chris’s chest. His heart beats steadily underneath.