Trap Page 25

  His words stuck to the cracks in my heart, reminding me that Von didn’t need me to be perfect. He needed me to be present, and I was keeping him waiting, making him sweat it out at the altar.

  “But you need that. It’s your Anger Management homework.”

  “Then you’ll just have to give it back after the ceremony. It’s supposed to be borrowed, isn’t it?” He opened the sleek box from Judge and took out a diamond necklace with a matching tennis bracelet. Ollie’s fingers fumbled with the necklace, swearing a few times before he got the hook clasped in place. The tennis bracelet draped over the borrowed rubber band I preferred.

  I looked down at the sparkles that only made my ring shine more brilliantly. Judge had good taste in jewelry, or perhaps it was Sherita who had the eye for the beautiful trinkets he liked to send me. I’d admired every single piece he’d given me before I’d sent it back. This was wedding jewelry, though, so I swallowed my arguments and permitted myself to keep the two extravagant treasures.

  “Don’t send this back to him,” Ollie said, voicing the thing I’d been debating. “It’s a wedding gift, and he’s been playing nice. He’s sitting out in the pews with Darius, T and the whole crew. Didn’t think it would be possible to get Judge into a church, but you pulled it off, kid. And look at that, no lightning bolts anywhere in sight.”

  It warmed my insides that the three McCray boys had showed up to be my family on my special day. Our McCray/Reese/Vandershot/Manaul biweekly family dinners had started out tense, but we were beginning to find our rhythm.

  “I think we all want to see what hell looks like frozen over. Flying pigs and all that. Our little girl’s getting married. Maybe there’s hope for the rest of us, if you can find happiness like this.” Ollie picked up my hands, admiring them as they rested in his. Something tender shifted in his face, and then his eyebrows furrowed. “Your hands used to be so tiny. You’d let me lead you anywhere. Now that you’re all grown, I’m not sure I can let go.” He cleared his throat and plastered on a brave face neither of us bought. “So where do you want me to take you today?”

  The corners of our mouths lifted in unison. “How about a trip down the aisle?”

  “I think I can manage that.” Ollie led me out into the narthex of the church, both of us holding our breaths as the dozens of guests all stood in unison, staring at us and taking pictures.

  I was frozen in place, the pianist no doubt ready to throttle me for making her play for so long. My chin dipped to the floor, nervous and wishing I’d insisted on City Hall.

  Ollie tapped his finger under my chin, lifting my head so I was looking up into his eyes that had only ever loved the mess I was. “Keep your chin up. Take it slow. I’ll be here the entire time.”

  Ollie’s constant wisdom flooded the corners of my heart, lifting my head of its own accord as we slowly walked down the aisle. My smile was forced until my eyes found Von’s.

  It was only then that I understood the music. I understood the flowers. I understood the white dress and all that it stood for.

  For the first time, I think I started to understand myself. I could be kind, with a bit of a temper when you crossed someone I loved. I was a hard worker who needed my friends to teach me how to rest. I was a friend, a sister, a mama, a daughter, an aunt, and now I would be a wife. Somehow over the past couple years I’d become all those things without losing myself completely, and that was no small feat.

  I wasn’t perfect, and I’d chosen a man who loved that about me.

  Von’s anxious smile beamed when his eyes found mine. I couldn’t help but wonder why he’d chosen me, of all people, to look on with such unabashed adoration like that. I didn’t deserve him, but I wanted to. I forgot that I was supposed to wait for the end of the ceremony to kiss Von. He was too stunning in his perfectly tailored tuxedo. Not letting go of Ollie’s hand, I leaned up and kissed Von’s lips, knowing I couldn’t wait another second. Blue and gold decorated the chapel like a million tiny fairies, blinking their wings at us as they watched the love bloom that created them. I heard the chimes and bells, and gasped at the wedding-like pronouncement they made – and perhaps had always made from the moment of our very first kiss. The music I know I didn’t hire started playing a rousing tinkling tune that nearly swept us both away from the church and our friends.

  My cheeks flamed pink when I heard catcalls and whistles rise above the wedding bells. I shrank down from my tiptoes, casting an apologetic look up at Von, whose eyes were lidded, his hand on his racing heart. “I was probably supposed to wait. Sorry about that,” I offered to Ezra, who merely chuckled. I’d never been one for huge public displays, but some things just couldn’t be helped. Von had worn too stunning a tuxedo, so really, this was all his fault.

  When Ezra asked who gave this woman away to be married, Ollie, Allie and Levi all stood together. “We do.” It was too soon for tears, but there they were anyway, streaming down Allie’s face.

  Ollie moved my hand toward Von’s, but clenched it tightly before it touched down in Von’s palm, refusing to release me. I thought he was trying to be funny, but when I frowned up at him, his hazel eyes were filled with panic. “I don’t think I can let go,” he whispered. “I might be having a stroke or something!”

  I leaned up on my toes and kissed his cheek, ignoring the adoring coos echoing around us. “‘Keep your chin up. Take it slow,’” I whispered to him. “I’ll be here the entire time.”

  Ollie nodded, bringing Von in for a tight one-armed hug that squeezed the emotion out of both of them. He whispered something into Von’s ear, and Von nodded solemnly. We were letting the Vandershots into our secretive world, which perhaps was the biggest growth of all. Von held Ollie tight until my brother finally trusted Von enough to release my hand.

  Mason breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t had to intervene. He stood at attention in his tuxedo at Von’s side, casting me a wink that we’d truly made it through the most harrowing part of the wedding. Mason took his post as Von’s best man seriously, studying up on wedding traditions and even throwing him a bachelor party. I’d resisted the idea until Mason explained that he was taking Von and all of our brothers down to Sombi for a little zombie apocalypse adventure.

  I hadn’t been too thrilled about that, but I guessed a little Evil Dead action had to be better than strippers.

  Anastasia was cooing from the front row where Danny stood, rocking his daughter while Ms. Vandershot held tight to Penny’s hand. I’d caught her sneaking out of Ezra’s room this morning before breakfast, and while I’d wanted to shout my glee from the rooftops, I kept my mouth shut to grant my dad his privacy.

  Von turned from the intensity of his guy hug and startled when his eyes fell on me again. His hand flew to his chest, as if seeing me for the first time. “Marry me,” he breathed, pretending to be stunned by my beauty.

  With absolute certainty, I answered Von with an enraptured, “Yes, please.”

  From that moment forward, I knew that no matter what mess life hurled at us, Von and I would never throw away the treasure we found in each other.

  The End.

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  Two.

  Stranger Things

  Working as a cashier in a small town is a lost art. You have to look interested in your job while being totally bored out of your skull. Luckily my boss wasn’t under the impression that I needed to act like my life’s ambition was bagging and checking, so he let me do my homework when the store hit its inevitable lulls.

  I’d been so nervous for college, thinking it would be infinitely harder than high school. But as most things in life, the buildup was bigger than the thing itself. Bio was boring after looking at the syllabus, so I spent the first two weeks doing all the homework sections in the book just to be done with the busy work. This was the way of most of my cla
sses, with the exception of English Lit. There was little structure to the way Professor Branson did things, so homework in her class was anybody’s guess. This is how I got stuck reading The Hunchback of Notre Dame like a pretentious poser at the end of my shift. I talked to Tonya about it on my cell during my lunch break. “I honestly don’t understand classic literature like this. I mean, this would never get published today. A billion pages on the architecture of the city? Boring!”

  “You want me to rent the Disney version?” Tonya suggested.

  She’s a sweetie. “Something tells me it won’t be as close to the original as Branson wants it. You know what’s next on the chopping block? A Tale of Two Cities. And after that I get treated to the heartwarming tale of Love in the Time of Cholera. I swear, the woman’s a masochist.”

  I heard a telltale clatter of pots that told me Tonya was trying to cook again. It was a thing of mercy I wasn’t home for it. She burns everything and makes a huge mess doing it. Then she grins with this expectant cutie face when she serves you the slop. I have to be all cheery and eat the gruel with gratitude, using my best acting skills. I just don’t have that in me today. Stupid Danny eating all the cheese. “Hey, T, are you cooking something?”

  “Yep! Just finished making us a hot dog casserole, Little L.” Oh, the pride in her tone. I never had the heart to blanch to her face, so over the phone worked just fine. “It’s in the fridge, so just heat it up when you get home. I’ve gotta leave for work.”

  “I’ll bet you a dollar Danny eats it all by morning,” I groused. My phone chirped to let me know my battery was a piece of crap, and was currently crapping out on me. Like a big giant piece of crappety crap. I hate my phone. I hurried to end the call. “Sounds awesome. Have a good night at work. Wait those tables like a wildebeest.”

  “That’s the plan. Waitress extraordinaire.”

  “See you soon,” I said.

  On my walk home after work, my stomach rumbled and churned at the same time. The creepy feeling that someone was watching me always amplified at night. Out in the open. By myself. I looked over my shoulder, but again saw nothing.

  Stupid overactive imagination. I’ll never let Danny talk me into an all-night marathon of the Evil Dead movies ever again.

  I picked up my pace, knowing that if Linus was watching, he’d be laughing. I wished he were still here. Nothing was all that scary when he was around. That’s before the chemo wiped out his high school jock build. Linus got the height and the outgoing personality. I got the figure no one looked at and the ability to make two whole friends since moving to the area. I shouldn’t even count Danny, since I got him by default. He comes with Tonya, who never seemed bothered by my melancholy moments or my disinterest in sneaking into the club Danny valeted at. She’s a treasure, hot dog casserole and all.

  A rustle in the distance made my heart jump. I scolded myself immediately. Of course there’s movement in the woods. Probably a raccoon. I squinted at the thick wall of trees, but saw nothing to explain the tightening knot in my gut. Well-lit street to the right, dark bands of trees on the left. I’d take the noises of busy city life any day over the quiet of nature, luring you into a false sense of security.

  The movement became more patterned, and I could tell the raccoon or person or zombie or whatever was ambling with more purpose toward me.

  Okay, seriously. Too much rustling to be the wind. Not caring that my messenger bag was banging my thigh, I picked up my pace to a jog, my heart rate increasing when I heard the movement in the woods following me. The hairs on my arms stood on end, and not to be superstitious, but my arm hair is never wrong.

  Dread jolted my heart when I heard uneven running coming toward me from the trees. I broke out into a full on run, trusting my Chucks to make up for my natural lack of sprinting skills. I’m pretty sure there was something in the commercials about that. Nature whipped by me, and though I still saw nothing, I heard it charging at full force, crashing through bramble and crushing stray branches underfoot. I ran with all my might, turning my head to the side at the sound emerging from the woods to find... a bear?

  I swear, I was so shocked, I nearly stopped running to gawk at the beast barreling toward me from my left. It was such an odd sight. A giant brown bear. In Ohio. On the sidewalk.

  Chasing me.

  I screamed like the girl I am, alerting no one. I stumbled once as I turned from the beast and pumped my legs for all they were worth in the direction of home.

  Then the chase stopped, quick as it came. The pounding steps ceased, and were replaced by animal howls and roars, reaching their crescendo when a horrific ripping sound cracked through the night. I slowed my flight and turned to see the largest bear that ever was. He was easily over ten feet tall, hulking in musculature, with massive paws and rabid foam clinging to its fangs. The bear was wrestling an olive-skinned man... and losing.

  I still don’t understand it, but somehow the tall and muscular Atlas of a man, crazy enough to wrestle a bear, bested the beast. He knocked the furry mass onto its back and put the bear in a chokehold like a professional wrestler in a Lycra onesie. Only this guy wore jeans and a black t-shirt, which really, professional wrestlers should’ve adopted a long time ago.

  “Run, Lucy! Go home!” the man shouted in a deep timbre.

  “What?” I said stupidly. Shock is the only way I can think of to explain why I needed to be told to get the smack out of Dodge.

  “Run!” he repeated, his expression wild as he wrestled the bear, who was putting up quite the fight. The bear clawed at his face, leaving a gouge I screamed at the sight of.

  I wanted to help. I mean, who was I that this Good Samaritan should die because of me? With one more command from his angry mouth, I obeyed. I think we both understood how little help I could actually be to him in this scenario. I mean, seriously. It’s a bear. Some kind of a rabid giant brown bear who was gunning for Kincaid girl ribs and barbecue sauce for dinner. I ran away from the two, fishing through my bag for my phone and cursing loudly when the battery failed me. This was my punishment for texting Tonya while on the job.

  Half a mile left, and the stitch in my side was begging me to join track next semester to replace weightlifting. Seriously. What a useless skill. What was I thinking? I ignored the discomfort and bolted to the apartment in record time, not stopping until I was safely tucked away inside. One bedroom, one bath, no dishwasher, three locks. Good enough. I bolted all three, then pushed a chair in front of the door for good measure.

  Tonya was waitressing, and Danny was at work driving Cadillacs in the parking structure, so there was no one to freak out to. I let out one tearless sob to the empty apartment. I plugged in my phone and left Tonya a breathless message to watch out for bears on her drive home. I worried she would think I was joking. Visions of Tonya getting mauled by the beast plagued me until a fist slammed on the front door not five minutes later.

  Bears don’t knock, but neither does someone with a key. I moved the chair and peered through the peephole, gasping at the grisly sight that greeted me.

  It was him. Six and a half foot tall Samaritan Sam with a large cut bleeding through the arm of his grimy black t-shirt. My stranger danger alert went up, but knowing his injuries were my fault moved my fingers to open the door. “Come in. Oh! Your shoulder! Oo! The bear got your face!” The blood was far thicker up close than through the comfort of the peephole, seeping down from his high cheekbones and painting red streaks into his five o’clock shadow.

  He didn’t need introductions, but barreled through to the bathroom without a word. Like he knew where it was. Like he’d been here before.

  I knocked on the door lightly. “Are you okay? Do you need anything, guy-I-don’t-know?”

  “I got it,” he answered gruffly. “Where’d Danny put the antiseptic?”

  Danny recently sustained a life-threatening injury of scraping his elbow in a game of touch football. Two days, and we were still hearing about his heroic moves. “It’s probably out here. Hold o
n.” Danny was always leaving things in unexpected places. I once found the jar of peanut butter on top of the rickety bookshelf and the jelly under the duct tape-patched futon next to the remote. He’s lovely to live with.

  I scanned the living room, fished under the futon, rifled through the pantry and finally found the antiseptic in the laundry basket. “I got it!” I called through the apartment. I was gripping the handle before it dawned on me I should probably never barge in on a man in the bathroom. “Can I come in?”

  “It’s your place.”

  With that warm welcome, I let myself into the narrow space. It was small with one person using the facilities; introducing a huge-chested hulking guy into the bathroom made the walls feel even closer together. “Here, let’s wash that and see what the damage is.” I put on my best professional voice, hoping it fooled him. If I really wanted to be a doctor, flinching at a gushing flesh wound was not an option. “You can borrow one of Danny’s shirts. Yours needs a washing.” Or a trash can. It was torn in three places and drenched in what I hoped was mostly the bear’s blood.

  He nodded and pulled his shirt over his head. I tried not to look at his perfectly cut abs or his entire torso that looked straight off the covers of Tonya’s skeezy meet/cute-flowers-dinner-handcuffs romance novels. He had a rope around his neck with a pouch on the end, resting against his bare chest. Blood streaked the counter and pooled on the floor. One of his hands was shaking as he washed off his broad shoulder and too-large bicep in the sink, bending at odd angles to get under the wimpy flow. The two biggest culprits for his pain were the gash on his shoulder and the one on his cheekbone.

  “I got it,” I offered, pulling a rag from under the sink and wetting it. I gently dabbed at his skin, aware of our close proximity and the discomfort that came with it. Aside from the assumption that he was Danny’s football buddy, I really knew nothing else about the guy. He made no effort to break the building tension, so I kept quiet, praying the wounds would not be super deep. I pressed the rag to the seeping gash on his shoulder, noting that he did not make his soreness known.