These Starcrossed Lives of Ours (7 page)

I couldn’t deny it. I was falling for her. And I was falling fast.

I looked down at her small porcelain hand, fragile enough to break. All I wanted to do was bend down and kiss it with my lips. What would happen if I reached out and took her little hand in mine? Would she pull away?

I slowly started inching my hand towards hers, frustrated with myself. What was this, high school? Why was I so afraid to touch her, to hold her hand? I just had to reach out and grab it...

The crowd screamed and Christie jumped in her seat, wrenching her hand off the seat. I moved my hand back and put it in my lap. She hadn’t noticed a thing. Who was I kidding? Christine would never go for me. She’d been through too much in her life to risk hurting herself again, I knew that. Not that I would ever hurt her, but I would understand why she wouldn’t take that chance.

I turned my attention towards the screen. Regardless if I loved her, I had to protect her and help her back on her feet.

Even if she didn’t love me back.

Chapter Five

Christine

Christmas in the Village arrived, and with it so did the upcoming winter chill. It was so cold out that I put on multiple layers before we began walking up Main Street.

“So what’s there to do today?” I asked, my breath freezing in mid-air.

“Well you’ve got about four choices,” Ian said. “You can watch the elementary school parade, go to lunch with Santa, take a carriage ride or go shopping around in the UAW hall. I personally vote the shopping.”

“Guys and shopping?” I said, amused.

“All the tables there have homemade stuff made by people in town. It’s really cool,” Ian said. “We’d better get there before all the good stuff vanishes.”

The UAW hall smelled of scented pine cones and was as toasty as a gingerbread oven. People were flooding the hallways with tables full of quilts and woodworking. All kinds of different crafts were piled upon the tables as the villagers haggled over prices and wrapped up wares.

“Neat, isn’t it?” Ian said.

“These quilts are nearly two hundred a piece,” I said in disbelief. “I could make one for way less.”

“Too bad I can’t afford one right now,” Ian said sadly. “I could use a new quilt.”

We continued looking along the tables until something caught my eye. It was a picture frame made out of cedar, carved and wood burned with Celtic designs in the shape of crosses. The intricacy and detail of the piece was amazing.

Ian would love it. I could buy it with him standing there, I knew I could. I was that sneaky. But what would I put inside of it?

I’d figure that out later. I had the money in my pocket. As Ian’s back was turned I quickly paid the vendor and slipped the frame into my bag. He never saw a thing.

About an hour later we walked out, Ian with his arms full of bags. “Christmas shopping’s done,” he said happily. “And I only had to shop one day.”

“Now you just have to wrap it all,” I said, and his face fell. “Have fun with that.”

He sighed. “Getting it home will be the real issue.” He stood on the spot and said, “If we wait just a little longer...ah, here it comes now.”

Two horses pulling a long wagon trotted up to the UAW hall. The wagon was empty, save for the driver. “Does the couple need a lift? It’s free,” he smiled at us.

“We’re not a couple,” I said. “But we could use a ride.”

“Hop in. I haven’t had many takers all day.” We climbed inside (Ian more or less tripping because of all the bags) and took a seat on the straw bales. The man shook the reins and off we went, clip clopping the long way back to the apartment.

Out of nowhere large, puffy snowflakes began trailing down from the sky in large and dramatic clumps. The twilight shimmered as the sun hid behind the clouds, the silver world encompassed by a beautiful clash of brick and concrete. Main Street looked like something out of a Victorian novel, decorated in red ribbons and green wreaths. I watched as people rushed indoors, screaming in ecstasy to try and avoid the snowflakes. “First snow fall,” I said, glancing upward. “How pretty.”

“Not half as pretty as you,” Ian said, that stupid twinkle in his eyes again.

I looked away, trying to avoid his eyes. “I’m not that pretty.”

“No. You’re beautiful,” he added softly.

“Okay, shut up,” I said, cuffing him over the head. He laughed, but continued to look at me in that same silly way. I pretended not to notice. “Smile,” he said, and he took out his phone to snap a picture of us. I humored him, but only for that one instance.

“The ride stops here,” the carriage driver told us as he slowed to a stop. “Everybody out.”

Ian stepped out first and unloaded his things. I tried to jump, but Ian held out his hand to help me down and I took it gratefully. Of course, the steps had to be icy. Before I knew it my feet were out from under me and I was falling off of the cart.

Ian reached out to catch me just before I hit the pavement. When I caught my bearings I was tangled up in Ian’s arms, inches from his face. “Oh look. I’ve swept you off your feet,” he said.

Heart pounding, I squirmed away. “Your puns are terrible, Ian,” I said, picking up a few of his bags.

“Nothing of the sort, miss,” he said joyfully, starting to whistle a tune.

I felt sick. Stumbling to the door I practically ran up the steps to our apartment, locking myself in the bathroom and trying to breathe.

“Christie? Christie, are you okay?” Ian asked in worry through the door.

I didn’t answer him.

The rest of the night passed rather awkwardly, with Ian looking more and more guilty and me getting more and more pissed off at him. Why couldn’t he just let it go? It wasn’t like the carriage thing or me being sick was a huge deal. When we hadn’t said a word to each other for about two hours before Ian broke the silence.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted today, Christie,” he said, trying to look me in the eyes and me totally ignoring him. “It’s just...I haven’t had a girlfriend in a long time, and I got carried away.”

“Em hm.” I wasn’t interested in Ian’s relationship issues. I had enough of my own.

“No. You need to listen.” He came to sit beside me on the couch. “I want to treat you with respect, and I didn’t this afternoon.”

“People have treated me much worse Ian, what you did was nothing more than a bat of an eyelash to my dignity,” I replied. For crying out loud, this guy made a big deal out of
everything.

“You don’t understand. You deserve the best treatment, not the worst. You’re really special,” (he ignored my sarcastic snort) “And I have to treat you like it.”

“Ian...”

“I really am sorry, Christie. I could tell you didn’t like me flirting with you, but I tried anyway.” He looked down, ashamed. “It’s just that I get really happy this time of year, with the spirit of giving going around and all. There’s so much love in the air and I thought...”

“It’s fine Ian, I already told you.”

“No, it’s not. It doesn’t excuse my behavior.”

“You were just flirting. It’s not like you were being serious, so let it drop.”

Ian got up, slowly walking to his bedroom. He reminded me of a lost puppy. “Okay.”

After that little spat, things went back to normal. The following week was Thanksgiving, and Ian intended to drag me along to his parents place for dinner.

“I’m not part of the family,” I said. “I’ll just stay here and wait for you to get back.”

“I’d be a terrible host, and nobody should spend the holidays alone,” Ian demanded.

Why not? Annabelle left me alone on Thanksgiving last year,
I thought sourly, remembering when she had left me to wait on a park bench and never came back. I had sat there until the next morning before finally giving up and heading back to the house. “I don’t want to be a burden,” I said.             

“Nonsense. My mother loves guests, and the rest of the family lives down in Florida. She’d appreciate you coming. They did help save your life, you know.”

He didn’t need to remind me. I felt slightly guilty that I hadn’t yet met the people who had helped bring me back from the dead, but at the same time I didn’t want them to be horribly disappointed when they saw how unsuccessful I was. I was doubtful, but I let him talk me into it. My fears and butterflies over impressing Ian’s parents were made to be obsolete, however, when I unexpectedly woke up with the flu Thanksgiving Day.

“You have to go and see them,” I said, feeling like I was going to cough up a lung or set the couch on fire with my fever, unsure of which would happen first.

“No,” Ian said, coming to my side. “I called and my parents understand. They want me to stay here and take care of you. Thanksgiving can wait another year. I’ll go visit once you’re better. You can come for Christmas instead.”

That gave me at least another month to prepare and worry. “Will you at least stop by? Just for a minute,” I begged. I didn’t want to be the girl who kept someone’s son away from them on the holidays. I already had the odds stacked against me.

He chuckled. “Only if you agree to go see a doctor.”

I shook my head. “No doctors.” I then let myself fall asleep.

The flu turned out to be a one day thing and I was back to work on Monday like usual. Winter Break was nearing at what seemed like a crazy speed. I was washing pans and the rest of the team was putting the cafeteria back together for the next day when it happened.

When one of my superiors came flying into the kitchen at a speed no woman her age should go, I turned to ask what was wrong.

“Lock all the doors and windows,” she told me sharply, securing one herself. “And keep them shut! Don’t let anybody in!”

This woman I worked under was unshakable. I had seen whole catastrophes run amok in the kitchen and she never so much as flinched. Something had to be up. I went to the farthest end in order to lock the hallway door before Ian rushed in.

“Ian,” I said. “What’s going on?”

“The school’s in lockdown,” he told me in a rush. “One of the kids has disappeared.”

“What?” I looked at him blankly.

“A little boy. He didn’t come in from recess this afternoon and now we can’t find him,” Ian said.

“Weren’t the teachers supervising?” I asked, confused.

“They went to help a girl who had fallen on the playground. When they called the kids in, they realized he was missing.”

“He probably just wandered off. He’ll turn up,” I said, a pit of anxiety forming in my stomach.

Ian put a hand on my shoulder. “I hope so. We’ve got the entire staff looking for him. Stay here until I get back, okay?”

After we had secured all the doors there was nothing left to do but wait. For hours me and my coworkers sat in the lunchroom, trying to figure out what happened. I believed none of what I heard...word in Manchester got so convoluted that by the time the news reached you the person telling it might as well be making up an entirely new story.

Daylight fell and our bellies rumbled. My innards clenched as I saw the lights of the cop cars outside but I reminded myself that they weren’t here for me, not this time. I just hoped that wherever the boy was, he was alright.

Eight o clock rolled around and the cops came into the lunchroom. They took us all out one by one and questioned us about the whereabouts of the boy. One lady burst into tears, but I stayed still as stone. I knew that if I looked nervous or showed any amount of fear that they’d pin it on me, the new girl, so I forced myself to keep as cool as possible. It was obvious that by the time they had finished interviewing me that they ruled me as a stupid kid who knew nothing.

It was about nine before we were finally set free. Parents, anxious to see their children, crowded all around the bus circle. I looked for Ian frantically in the mess. I could walk home but I really didn’t want to by myself, not with Annabelle on the loose. What if they suspected him and had taken him in for more questioning?

I finally spotted Ian and sighed with relief. He hurried over to me, looking just as relieved that I hadn’t been taken in. “The kids are exhausted,” Ian told me. “A lot of them aren’t used to staying up this late. They’re all traumatized. They think that once they walk outside someone’s going to snatch them.”

“Did they find the boy?” I asked, concerned.

Ian shook his head. “No. He disappeared without a trace, no hint of a clue. They tried to make me admit that I did it.”

“That’s awful! You could never!” I said, shaking my head.

“Tell that to them.” Ian’s face was sour. “Everyone knows that the justice system gets abused, but I don’t blame them. I’d do the same thing if I was in their position.”

“Do they have any leads?”

“None. His parents are here...they’re devastated.”

A wave of pity washed over me for the couple. I walked particularly close to Ian as we made our way to the car. “Nothing like this has ever happened before in Manchester, has it?” I said.

“No. It’s always been the safest place in the world to live. The town will go nuts once this gets out, though it probably has already.”

It had. Over the next few days the entire community was in a panic, joining together to try and figure out exactly where the boy had gone. Search parties were sent out and kids were kept indoors, but no luck. A week passed and the child was still missing.

“There’s an emergency prayer meeting at my church for the boy,” Ian said, grabbing his coat. “Do you want to come, or stay here?”

“What’s praying going to do? God can’t hear you,” I said, looking at him.

Ian gave me the most horrible glare, and inside I quivered. Something in me broke when he looked at me like that...it felt like my very soul was crumbling.

“Christie,” he said. “You might not realize it, or if you do, appreciate it, but my faith is very important to me. I feel like it
will
make a difference, and you have to let me believe that whether it’s true or not. Besides, I’ve done all I can and it’s still not enough. I can’t sit here and do nothing.”

With that statement he left.