Swift (13 page)

Chapter Eleven

It was Sunday, and work at the library was extra slow. So slow that Ms. Donaldson took time off work to run some errands. I tried not to let the previous day’s events at the Harpers’ get me down. This was the day that Roger had promised he would call. I could feel the anticipation for hearing from him building inside me. There was so much to tell him! Just as the feeling of excitement began to hit my face, threatening a smile, I heard the front door of the library squeak closed. Internally I sighed, not wanting to have to deal with another patron that afternoon.

But my sulking turned to joy when I realized it was Blake who had walked in. Our eyes met, and he gave me a quick smile. It was so quick that I didn’t even have time to return it before he looked away. And again, as hard as I tried, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. He walked straight to the reference section just like he had done before, pulling two books off the shelf and taking a seat at the table near the window.

He flipped open one of the books and glanced up, catching my stare. I looked down, feeling my face heat up to about a thousand degrees and my heart pounding hard against my chest. How embarrassing, I thought to myself.

I was so busy feeling ridiculous that I didn’t even realize when he got up and made his way across the room. “Am I doing something wrong?” he questioned, coming to stand on the other side of the counter, just a few inches away from me.

My breath stopped cold, and I looked up toward the deep, soft voice. The left corner of his mouth lifted, resulting in that half-smile that I was beginning to think should be illegal. Meeting his blue eyes, I gradually felt my breathing getting quicker, and I knew that I was approaching hyperventilation. In hopes of avoiding another fainting fit, I looked down and began to shuffle the papers in front of me.

“What would you be doing wrong?” I asked, trying to keep my breathing even.

“The way you are staring, you have me convinced that I’m breaking some library rule or something.”

I could hear the smile in his voice. Was he messing with me? The entire time he was standing in front of me, I fought the urge to look him in the eyes. I felt that was the only way to get my breathing back under control. “No, nothing wrong,” I said. “I mean you aren’t doing it—anything wrong, I mean.” Oh. My. God. This was turning into another horrible disaster.

It felt as if there was a giant elephant sitting on my chest, pushing it down and not allowing a breath in or out.
Breathe! Breathe!
I shouted inside my head. Breathe, before you pass out and make an even bigger fool of yourself! At last, I managed a large breath, and I gasped for air, hoping it would help me catch up on the lack of oxygen.

“You okay?” he asked, concern covering his face.

“I’m fine,” I responded, sounding annoyed. I was not annoyed at Blake, but annoyed at myself for acting like such an idiot. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I would like to check this out,” he replied, sliding a book to my side of the counter.

History of the 1900s.
I glanced at the title and wondered why he would be reading a book like that. It was summer, after all.

“Do you have a library card?” I asked.

“No, afraid not.”

“Well, please fill this out, and I will get one made up for you,” I said smoothly, handing him the application and a pen and gaining more and more confidence that my normal calm, cool, and relaxed personality was showing itself again.

It was difficult not to stare at him as he was filling the application out on the counter, so I tried to keep myself busy. I did some filing and left the desk to gather books from the front drop box, stealing a glance at him whenever I could.

“All done,” he said as I returned back to the desk.

I smiled timidly as I looked over the application, pretending to make sure all the pertinent information was filled out. In reality, he could have written that his name was Abraham Lincoln and he lived at the North Pole, and I wouldn’t have noticed. It was too hard to concentrate with him standing so close to me. Something between us had changed since yesterday, but I wasn’t sure what it was.

“So, why Marblehead?” I blurted out to dull the pain of the silence as I entered his information into the computer. “I mean, I’m sure there are lots of places with old, historic homes in need of remodeling.”

“My family felt like this was the perfect place … You could say that it felt like home the moment we arrived,” he said, seeming as though he’d had to come to a decision about saying those last words.

I turned from the computer to hand him his card, sad that I had not drawn out the process a little longer.

“Thank you for the book and for the card,” he said, his lips breaking into a gentle smile.

“Just doing my job,” I responded, immediately cringing that those words had just come out of my mouth. Ugh,
just doing my job
. Real cool.

“By the way, how are you feeling?”

“Fine—all better,” I replied, feeling flattered that he actually cared enough to ask.

“Well, see you around.”

“Bye.” I smiled, and he turned and walked away.

The last thirty minutes of work were nightmarish. For some reason, all the stupid things I had said in front of Blake were playing over and over in my head. But what bothered me probably more than anything was why I cared so much what he thought about me. I was not sure how much longer I would be able to deny what I was feeling. I mean, it was all laid out for me, staring me right in the face. Practically screaming it: I
liked
him
.
Then that one thought made my mind go in a thousand different directions. It was not the smartest thing in the world to start liking a guy just a few weeks before skipping town. And even though he had been nice to me the day before and made sure I got home safely, he was still a jerk. Anyone that would talk to his sister that way for something that wasn’t even her fault should not be making me feel like this. Even though it was difficult to explain, I knew there was something else to him; he was holding something back.

When work was over, I pulled my purse and backpack out from under the counter, trying to concentrate on the fact that I would talk to Roger that afternoon and be able to spill everything to him soon enough. I turned to tell Ms. Donaldson goodbye, who had just returned from her errands, but when I whirled around, I found her already staring at me.

The words she spoke shocked me. “You look so much like your mother,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I hope you don’t mind me saying so.”

No one had ever told me that before—maybe because they thought of me as some fragile egg that could crack at any moment.

“No, I don’t mind,” I answered, a smile breaking across my lips. It was weird that she had just mentioned that. Honestly, I had not even been aware that she had known my mother. “Thank you.”

I walked out of the library, still smiling at the comment Ms. Donaldson had made. Just then I noticed someone sitting on the bench to my left. It was Blake. When he saw me, he got up and began to walk toward me. My heart fluttered at the sight of him, and I could only stop and watch him as he approached.

He stopped just a few feet from me, his lips parting, about to speak, and then suddenly he turned back around, mumbling something under his breath. I stood there waiting, hoping he would turn back and say what he wanted to say. Finally he turned to face me once again. “I was hoping I could walk you home. Would that be all right with you?”

My fluttering heart began to hammer hard against my chest, and I could feel the excitement all the way in my stomach. “Sure, that would be nice.”

We walked in silence at first, similar to how our walk had begun the day before, but then he asked me a question I was not sure how to answer. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

It was a logical enough question. I mean, it should be a good icebreaker for most people, right? But not for me, not when my answer was a very sad one. My heart ached, and I felt a large lump rising in my throat. Just the word
sister
started a domino effect that started with the pain and hurt of losing her and ended with the longing to have her again. I searched for the best way to answer. There was no way I could lie; that would not be fair to Charlotte. Lying about some stuff was necessary, of course, but I couldn’t pretend that I had never had a sister, that she never existed. But I had never been asked that question before. Everyone I had ever known before the Harpers’ knew what had happened to my family, so there was no reason to ask questions like that.

I knew I had to answer quickly, so the only way to go was to tell the truth. “Yes, I ... had a sister—a twin actually. Her name was Charlotte, but she passed away ten years ago, along with my mother and father.” I guessed it would be good to go ahead and get it all out. Best to avoid any more depressing questions.

We continued to walk in silence. He stared at the ground, taking in every last word I had just said as if he was calculating something in his head.

“Sorry,” he finally said. “That is terrible.”

Not wanting the conversation to get any more depressing, I spoke up again. “It was a long time ago. I hardly remember most things, but I do remember what it was like to have a sister. I miss it very much.” Listen to me, here I am opening up my heart to someone I barely know … not even Roger or Aunt Rose get this much out of me. “You’re lucky, you know, to have Abby,” I added.

He scoffed, but at the same time a small smile broke across his face. “She comes in handy every once in a while, but she’s an annoying little irritant most of the time.”

The walk went quickly, and I was actually sad when I saw my house in view. We parted ways, and my heart ached as I walked away from him. This time I was not strong enough to make it all the way to the door before looking back, checking to see if he was still standing there. About halfway to the door, I turned my head and saw that he was standing in the very spot I had left him. He was watching me. I smiled timidly and continued walking. By the time I reached the door and turned to check again, he was gone.

As I walked in, Aunt Rose was heading out for her night shift. On her way out, she told me that Roger had called a little earlier and that he would try again in a little while. After changing into some more comfortable clothes, I headed downstairs to the kitchen to make a sandwich, hoping to get Blake out of my head. Just as I had pulled the sliced turkey out, the phone rang. I sprinted out of the kitchen and dove onto the couch in the living room, reaching out to answer it.

“Hello?” I gasped as I picked up the phone.

“Man, it’s good to hear your voice,” Roger said on the other end.

“You’re not kidding. Can’t believe it’s only been a week.” I paused, taking in a couple deep breaths, trying to steady my breathing. “Sucks not having your best friend to talk to on a daily basis, especially when so much has happened.”

“Really? Has Marblehead changed that much in a week? Man, just my luck. When I leave, the most boring town on the planet starts to see some action.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. It’s still just as boring as you left it.”

I went on and filled him in on my new job, giving him all the boring details. Then I told him about the Harpers, but decided to leave out my feelings for Blake until I figured them out more myself. Just as I was about to begin to tell him about the nightmares, visions, paranoia, and other strange happenings, I heard someone calling his name on his end of the line.

“Really sorry, but Stephanie just showed up, and we are supposed to be watching a movie in fifteen minutes.”

“Stephanie? Is she your flavor of the week?” I asked jokingly.

“More like flavor of the day,” he countered.

“Whatever. Blowing me off for some random chick, I see how it is.”

“I’ll call you later. Promise.”

When I hung up the phone, I felt unfulfilled. It probably would have been a good idea to lead with all my weird issues then talk about my boring job and the Harpers afterwards. The funny thing was that Roger didn’t even put it together. He did not say anything about the Harpers just moving to Marblehead and the coincidence that they shared the same name as on the gravestones in the cemetery. He had to remember the names on the graves, right? He had visited them with me a hundred times or so. Or maybe he had put it together but was not crazy enough to think they could be connected. Not crazy like me. Even I felt stupid for admitting to myself that the two could be connected. The only logical explanation was that the Harpers were somehow, possibly, related to people buried there, like their descendants or something. Big deal. Even though I knew Roger would be back in just a few weeks’ time and I would have my best friend back and things would get better, I knew it would be only temporary. He would be home for just a few days before he was going to pack up and move into the dorms at Harvard. That was his life, his future, his choice.

The rest of my day was crappy. Crappy mood. Crappy everything. I actually looked forward to going to work the next day just to give me something to do. Man, if that didn’t prove that I needed a life, I don’t know what would. This was pathetic. To get my mind off that topic, I decided to send my thoughts in a different direction. I was supposed to be on a plane out of there in just a few weeks, and I had still had no definite plans as to what I was doing. I wondered if my procrastination was a sign. Maybe it was a sign that I really didn’t want to leave Marblehead, my house, my life. Only that was just crazy … There was nothing in this world I wanted more. With that conclusion, I was finally able to put myself to sleep.