Spies and Prejudice (28 page)

I was wrong about her.

She did leave.

She erased her life. Erased me.

All I can think is how much I hate them. Mr. Moss for putting her in danger to begin with. Dave Preston for making it possible for my mother to disappear. My mother for not standing up for herself. Not fighting for us.

But it’s not until I’m in the back of Dave Preston’s car on the way back to Pemberley, staring out the window, that it occurs to me that Dad was right all along. It was his letter. His threat. He was the reason Mom left. Mom was running away from invisible dangers, ghosts that didn’t even exist. Dad was afraid that Moss would make her disappear. And Moss did. Just not in the way Dad thought.

Tanner glances back at me from the front seat every now and then, but I keep my eyes firmly focused outside the car.

She’s out there somewhere.

It’s no comfort.

W
hen I get home, Dad is sitting on the couch with Shauna Waterson, even though it’s two in the morning. Shauna straightens her shirt and blushes up at me. Eew.

Dad smiles at her, and I have to admit I might never get tired of seeing him smile like that.

“Berry!” Shauna’s voice is all sweetness and embarrassment. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“I know it’s late,” I say. “I was helping Mare with something for her father.” An understatement.

Dad finally looks at me, a tentative smile on his face, waiting for my reaction. He’s more worried about how I’ll react to Shauna being here than the fact that I’ve been out half the night.

I need to talk to him, and this isn’t the kind of conversation that I want to have with his new girlfriend hanging on his arm. On the outside, I manufacture what I hope is an almost-smile. “How was your night?”

“Fabulous,” Shauna says, even though I was addressing my dad
when I asked the question. She grabs my dad’s knee and smiles at him.

Dad sits up straighter, and clears his throat. “So,” he starts. “We wanted to talk to you about something.”

A new surge of panic fills me. Dad and Shauna want to talk to me about something? Already? This can’t be happening. Dad has never even been on a date in the past eight years. Now he spends a few weeks with Shauna Waterson and he wants to marry her? I sit down on the ottoman across from them, trying not to cry out.

I like Shauna. I like my dad with Shauna. But he needs to know the truth. Painful as it is, it’s not something I can let go.

Mom is alive
.

I could find her. I could explain that the threat was never real. We could have her back.

Dad looks at Shauna, and he smiles that smile, the big one that actually reaches his eyes.

I could break my father’s heart.

Shauna’s smile is aimed at me. It’s genuine and hopeful. “We just wanted to make sure that you’re okay with everything. I know it all seems kind of sudden.”

Dad watches me warily. He doesn’t trust me not to bark. He has no idea that the news I have is far more dangerous than a snarky comment. I have the truth.

The man who lost himself in depression would want me to tell him the truth, no matter what it cost him now.

But what about the man who smiles at Shauna Waterson so easily? What does he want?

The price of uncovering secrets is steep. Knowing is no better than not knowing. It’s so much worse. There’s no safety net. I can’t even lie to myself anymore.

She left us
.

She’s alive
.

She left us and she never looked back
.

Dad’s smile falters, and I realize he’s still waiting for me to say something. It takes every bit of willpower I possess to force my lips to curve up. A voice comes out of my mouth that sounds like someone else’s. “It’s great.”

Dad jumps in. “We’re going to take it slow.” He squeezes her leg again. “We just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

“Slow is good,” I say.

And it is. I can deal with Dad dating. As long as I don’t have to see him kiss her or anything. During the year after Mom died, or left, I thought my dad might never smile again. Watching him now with Shauna, I won’t be the one to take this from him.

For what? So Dad can chase after a woman who, however alive, hasn’t bothered to inform us of that fact for eight years?

Whatever ends up happening with Shauna, it won’t be me who breaks Dad’s heart.

“Okay.” It’s as much of an affirmation as I can manage. Shauna grins. She starts rambling about another shopping trip with me and Jason.

It’s almost enough for me to take it back, but for Dad, I make the sacrifice.

For Dad, I begin to say good-bye. To give my mother the burial she never really had.

A
month goes by in a haze of classes and stakeouts and Cherry Garcia ice cream.

Mare and I settle in to watch the opening performance of
Hamlet, the Musical
. It’s every bit as horrific as I expected, but also campy and fun. It takes me a second to realize that the laughter I hear is my own. It’s been a while since I’ve heard it.

No one’s seen or heard from Drew since he bolted from the ambulence the night of the warehouse debacle. Not that anyone misses him. Still, it would be nice to know who he worked for. For now, I have to believe that Tanner was right.

I want to.

Tanner sent a few e-mails, but I didn’t respond and he eventually gave up. Smart boy, that one. I try not to think about him. And for the most part it works. I’ve got plenty to think about.

Like her. My mother is an itch deep inside that I can never reach. A secret pain that I have no choice but to keep buried.

For now, I just want to sit back and watch my friend sing his way
through his death scene while the crowd cheers him on. I don’t miss the fact that Collin Waterson is sitting in the second row, clapping and cheering louder than any of them. I’m pretty sure Jason doesn’t miss it either.

When the show is over, Mare and I walk out together, crossing the quad to our little wall. It’s strange to be here at night, like the world has turned upside down and inside out. She sits down and looks up at the stars.

“Jason was good, right?”

“If by good you mean, bizarre and off-key but somehow perfect, than yeah, he was good.”

Mare grins. “Something like that.”

“I thought I might find you here.” Ryan walks toward us, his blond hair shining in the moonlight.

I resist the urge to look for Tanner. Ryan’s been coming down to see Mary Chris for weeks now. Always alone.

“You came!” Mare runs up and throws her arms around his neck.

Ryan hugs her back easily. “Like I was going to miss the world premiere?”

“Yeah, but you’ve heard Jason sing.” Mare kisses him lightly.

I look away.

“Have you seen Jason yet?” Mare asks.

Ryan shakes his head. “Not yet. I’m a little intimidated by the throng of fans waiting backstage.”

“I’ll take you.” Mare looks back at me, a question in her eyes.

“Go ahead. I’ll wait for you here.” It’s not that I don’t like Ryan.
I do. It’s just impossible to be around him and not think about Tanner.

Mare walks over to me. “We won’t be long.”

“Take your time.”

Mare reaches into her purse and hands me a folded piece of paper. “Don’t read this yet, okay?”

A note? Mare hasn’t given me a note since we both got cell phones in fifth grade. I put the note in my pocket. “When?”

“You’ll know.” She smiles again, then runs over to Ryan.

I watch as they disappear into the darkness. I’m tempted to read the note now, but Mare has me wondering what exactly it is that I’m waiting for.

I’m distracted by a movement to my left. I’m not even sure I see it, more like I sense that someone is there. I’m on my feet and walking toward the shadows, determined to find out who is lurking.

I duck around a tree and almost crash headlong into a dark figure. Only his hands on my shoulders keep me from running into him.

I don’t have to raise my eyes to his face to know that it’s Tanner. I smell cinnamon and fabric softener and something else that is uniquely him. Warmth spreads from his hands at my shoulder to my chest, my toes, and all points in between.

“Were you spying on me?” I ask, more breathless than I should be.

“I was just trying to get up the courage to talk to you.” Tanner’s hands are still on my shoulders, but I don’t do anything to pull away. It takes a conscious effort to keep from pulling him into a hug.

“And?”

“And, I was afraid you wouldn’t talk to me.”

“I can’t talk to you if you’re hiding in the bushes. So you might as well come out and give it a shot.” My hands are restless at my side. He’s here and all I want is to be closer. To touch him.

“Really?”

“What’s the worst that can happen? I tell you I never want to see you again and then you’re off the hook, right?”

He drops his hands. “You don’t want to see me again. I knew this was a bad idea.”

The truth is I don’t know exactly what I want where Tanner is concerned. But I do know that the idea of not seeing him again is not it. “It wouldn’t be the first bad idea you’ve ever had. Probably not the last either. I think that’s one of the things I like about you.”

“That I have bad ideas?” Tanner runs a hand through his hair.

“I hated you when you were too perfect.”

“You thought I was perfect?”

“You thought you were perfect. There’s a difference.”

He finally smiles. “I know better now.”

“Me too.”

“About what?”

I choke on the words. There’s a part of me that still wants to lock them up tight. But I’m not that girl anymore. I’m not the girl with the dead mother. I’m not the girl with the dead heart. “About me. You were right.”

Tanner’s eyes widen. “Excuse me?”

“I know it’s hard to believe, given all your flaws.”

“What was I right about?” Tanner’s eyes search mine.

I bite my lower lip. “I might be capable of loving someone.”

“Might be?”

I give in to the temptation to touch him, letting my fingers push a strand of his hair away from his face and linger there. “Maybe.”

He covers my hand with his, holding it against his cheek. His smile is every bit as dangerous as it ever was, but this time I don’t fight against the little flip my stomach does. I go with it. I lean forward and brush my lips against his.

He laughs against my lips, sending rumbles of heat to every part of me. And something lighter too. Something that confirms that I might not be broken after all.

“Berry Fields,” he whispers, “you are amazing.”

When he kisses me, I don’t hold anything back.

Neither does he.

It’s not until I’m home in bed that I remember Mare’s note. I have to wake up Lulu to find my rumpled jeans on the floor. She yawns as I pull out the carefully folded piece of notebook paper, then flops back over on her side.

“U. O. Me,” the note says. “I convinced Tanner that you might not hate him.”

I take the note and set it on my dresser.

How am I ever going to top this?

This book owes everything to my publisher, Elizabeth Law, part editor, part writing coach, part ninja-sensei, who helped me find my way from idea to draft to the heart and soul of the story, with unflagging enthusiasm and support. This story could not have been in better hands, and we (Berry, Tanner, and I) owe you a debt of gratitude. Thank you for taking a chance on fifteen pages and a concept and then giving me the time and tools I needed to bring it to life. Any writer would be lucky to work with you, and I am blessed to be one of them.

To Sarah Davies, who has a few ninja moves of her own. You made this book happen by sheer force of will. I’m glad you are on my side, because you are a force of nature. In the best possible way.

To Carolyn Hanson, thank you for helping find my way to Tanner and teaching me about romantic tension. To the YA Muses, Bret Ballou, Donna Cooner, Katherine Longshore, and Veronica Rossi,
thank you for reading an early draft of
Spies
and then reading it again. And again. But mostly thank you for being wonderful friends and amazing writers who inspire me. Every. Single. Day.

Thank you to Lisa and Laura Roecker and Megan Miranda for reading and supporting this book. The feeling is entirely mutual.

To the team at Egmont USA, Alison Weiss, who always responds to my shameless begging for books, to Katie and Robert, who made me feel so welcome at ALA, and my lovely copy editor, Veronica Ambrose, who made sure we had the proper spelling for Disneyfied.

Thanks to my real-life love interest, Jeff Vance, who encouraged me to keep going with this story, even when it meant starting over. To Sammy, who actually, maybe, sort of, kind of liked this one. To Crystina, who may recognize a few of Berry’s lines. And to Hunter, who never once rolls his eyes when Mom talks plot points (at least not when I’m looking).

To Huckleberry, who snored in the background through the writing of this book. Someday I’ll get you one those T-bones like Lulu had.

Lastly, to all the amazing book bloggers who have supported me and welcomed me into the YA community. You know who you are, and you rock.