Winter's Shadow (18 page)

‘Where are your parents?’ Blake asked innocently, making Winter wince. This dinner was awkward enough without discussing their family tragedy.

Lucy dropped her fork onto the plate. The ringing it made as it struck the cheap porcelain seemed to stretch on for minutes. Lucy slowly picked up the utensil, turning it over in her hands as though she wasn’t sure what to do with it. When she looked up at Blake her eyes were moist. ‘Didn’t Winter tell you?’

Blake shook his head, glancing sideways at Winter for clarification. She smiled sympathetically at him, and hoped that her sister wouldn’t start crying.

Lucy’s bottom lip trembled slightly but she managed to keep it together. ‘Our parents are dead.’

Blake looked horrified.

‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t —’

‘They died in a car crash six months ago,’ Lucy ploughed on, ignoring his apology. He’d opened this wound and she was damned if she was going to let him off easily. ‘Our nearest relatives – Uncle Kevin and Aunt Wendy – live on the other side of the country, so it was left to me to serve as Winter’s legal guardian. I deferred my studies and got a job working in our father’s pharmacy. Luckily the new owners agreed to put me on. It’s only for a year, until Winter goes to college. Then I can get my life back.’ She smiled thinly and took a big gulp of water.

Blake seemed a little unsure of what he should say. ‘It must have been very hard for you,’ he said.

‘You can’t possibly imagine,’ she replied, looking down at her plate like a zombie.

Winter decided now was as good a time as any to start clearing the table.

Winter scrubbed at the brown sludge caked to the bottom of the saucepan in which Lucy had made the bolognaise sauce. Blake joined her in the kitchen, carrying the rest of the dirty plates, and began to scrape the leftover food into the garbage bin next to the sink. There was the sound of a television being switched on in the next room, as Lucy shifted from the table to the couch.

Blake whispered softly, ‘I’m sorry about what happened in there. I didn’t mean to upset you and your sister.’

Winter glanced up from the sink and was touched at how genuinely pained Blake looked. ‘It’s not your fault. Luce has been a little . . . sensitive since the accident . . .’ She couldn’t finish the sentence. Even after all this time she still had trouble saying that they’d died.

Blake took the saucepan from her and began to dry it with a tea towel. ‘You don’t have to explain —’ he started, but Winter shook her head. Instead of shutting down as she usually did when the conversation turned to her parents, Winter surprised herself by wanting to talk to Blake.

‘No, it’s okay.’ She took a steadying breath and the words began to spill out, coming easily, despite the pain they conjured. ‘They were driving along the coastal road, on their way to the picnic spot overlooking Lighthouse Beach. It was something they did every Wednesday – like a ritual. Dad would leave the pharmacy and pick Mum up from the hospital and they’d order some takeaway and drive to the picnic spot for lunch. Except on that particular day they never made it. Something happened . . . The police don’t know exactly what. Maybe Dad was speeding? Or something went wrong with the car? All they know is that at some point he lost control and they went over the edge into the ocean. They drowned.’

The last two words hung in the air between them. Winter’s throat felt tight and hot tears pricked the back of her eyes, threatening to overflow down her cheeks. This wasn’t like her. Lucy was the emotional one – not her! She didn’t want to cry in front of Blake.

Blake reached out and gently took her hand. His eyes found hers, and she was both surprised and grateful for the warmth and compassion she saw reflected there.

‘I know what it’s like to lose your parents,’ he said softly.

Winter wiped her eyes and looked up at him with interest. So she and Blake did have something in common. They were both orphans. Before Blake could continue, there came the sound of Lucy approaching the kitchen. He let go of Winter’s hand, and took a step away from her, wary of being caught standing too close together.

Lucy stepped into the room, her eyes a little redrimmed. Winter guessed she must have held it together just long enough for Blake and Winter to leave the table before crying. She smiled at Blake tersely. ‘Thanks for helping with the washing up, Blake, but as it’s a school night Winter should probably be hitting the books.’

Blake nodded and folded up the towel. ‘Of course. Thank you for having me, Lucy.’

‘It was our pleasure, I’m sure.’

Winter caught the faint trace of sarcasm in her sister’s voice, and hoped Blake had missed it. It wasn’t fair of Lucy to dislike Blake because he had accidentally upset her.

‘I’ll walk you outside,’ Winter told him, ignoring the tightening of Lucy’s mouth.

Leading Blake out into the hallway and onto the front porch, she was struck by how cold it had become. She hugged herself as they started down the steps to the driveway where Blake’s truck was parked, rubbing some warmth back into her skin.

‘Well, I’ve definitely made better first impressions,’ Blake said once they were out of Lucy’s earshot.

Winter sighed in exasperation. ‘I don’t know what her problem is. It’s like, just because she can’t move on with her life, she doesn’t want me to either.’

‘Give her a break. I’m sure she’s doing the best she can.’

Blake noticed the goosebumps on Winter’s bare arms.

‘Go back inside, you don’t have to see me off.’

Winter waved his concern away. ‘I’m fine.’ She was prepared to weather a blizzard if it meant spending more time with him. ‘So . . . is Jessie all fixed now?’

‘Yeah, it should run fine. Just don’t push it over fifty.’

Winter arched an eyebrow. ‘I didn’t even know it could go fifty.’

Smirking, Blake nodded back to the house. ‘Seriously, go inside, Winter. It’s freezing out here.’

An idea suddenly occurred to her. ‘Wait a minute!’

Leaving Blake standing with a perplexed expression, she ran back into the house, returning a few moments later clutching something in her hand.

‘Take this,’ she said, pressing the Urban Ninjas ticket into Blake’s surprised grasp.

‘Winter —’ he began to protest, but she silenced him with a shake of her head.

‘Just in case you change your mind.’ She dropped her gaze, afraid of what her eyes would reveal. ‘You don’t know how hard it was for me to give it to you.’

‘I’m not really a concert kind of guy, Winter. Too many people, you know?’

‘What’s wrong with people?’

‘They’re fine by themselves. In groups, they can be dangerous.’

Winter was surprised at Blake’s cautiousness. It was almost like something Lucy would say. ‘You’re afraid of mosh pits?’

‘Among other things.’ He tilted his head to one side, studying her. ‘You’re definitely going?’

‘I want to.’ Winter wasn’t sure she’d go if Blake didn’t.

He nodded thoughtfully and pocketed the ticket. ‘I’ll think about it, then. Thank you.’

It wasn’t the enthusiastically positive response Winter had hoped for, but it was enough to get her excited.

‘Tell your sister thanks again for dinner,’ Blake said, moving towards his truck.

‘I’m glad you enjoyed it. In the Adams house, we have all our meals with a side of awkward conversation,’ she added, hoping a little humour could gloss over the cringeworthy memory.

Blake tilted his head at her as if she was a particularly tricky problem to solve. Their eyes locked, and for one delirious moment Winter had the sense again that Blake wanted to kiss her. It was an irrational, impossible, wonderful instinct – an instinct her body reinforced through its reaction. Flushed with heat, her pulse quickened, and everything stood out in exquisite detail. The stars in the sky, Owl Mountain a tooth of darkness in the distance, a stray lock of Blake’s hair stirring in the breeze, the sensual curve of his lips, and his eyes. Most of all his eyes.

‘I’ll see you around,’ Blake said, abruptly turning and heading to his truck. Feeling lost and deflated without his gaze upon her, she watched him start the engine and swerve out onto the street. Thinking about standing at the precipice of a kiss, real or imaginary, Winter probably would have stayed there well after he’d driven off, but the cold finally began to assert itself again. Shivering, she ran back inside, shut the door behind her and blew on her icy hands to try to heat them up.

A grin kept forcing its way onto her face. Blake had said he’d think about coming to the concert!
He’d think about it!
That was practically a
yes
! She knew she was setting herself up for potential disappointment, but she was unable to rein in her galloping thoughts.

‘Winter?’ The sound of her sister calling her from the living room was enough to put a slight dampener on her mood. Groaning inwardly, she trudged down the hallway. She doubted Lucy wanted to sing Blake’s praises.

Her sister was standing looking out the window at their backyard, her face hidden. Winter decided to go on the offensive, rather than let Lucy start lecturing her.

‘Look, Luce, I know you probably don’t like Blake for whatever reason. But it’s really none of your —’

‘Come here,’ Lucy said without turning around, and the strange inflection of her voice was enough to pique Winter’s curiosity.
What was she looking at?

Winter went to the window and saw the cats.

There were at least thirty; all different colours and breeds, some wearing collars, some without. There were
so many of them that Winter could barely see the grass between their furry little bodies. She supposed there might be even more of them out of sight in the shadows where the backyard sloped away from the lights of the house.

‘What are they doing here?’

Mystified, Lucy slowly shook her head. ‘This is why you don’t feed strays.’

The sound of the cats outside rendered Winter’s efforts to sleep useless. She didn’t know if they were making love or fighting with each other, but whatever they were doing, it sounded painful. Thoughts of Blake circled restlessly through her mind, making sleep even more impossible to achieve. Three days – that’s how long she’d known him, but the impact he’d already made on her life was considerable. Winter couldn’t remember the last time a guy had taken up so much of her mental real estate. Perhaps Tommy Butler in the eighth grade, but the memory of that particular unrequited love paled in significance against the intensity of these emotions.