Guardian (The Guardian Trilogy) (10 page)

Over
the next few days, my parents and Shel give me plenty of space.  No one brings
up my sobbing episode and neither do I.  I do manage to ask my mother about the
plant in the bathroom, since it was still there and, thankfully, not a figment
of my imagination.  She said it was delivered to the house the day Shel and I
were at training, but there was no card to say who it was from.  She assumed it
was sent by someone with condolences, and she meant to call the flower shop to
ask about it.  She put it in the bathroom since orchids like a humid climate,
but quickly forgot about calling after Matt’s visit and then my late night
disruption.  I really don’t care who it’s from as long as it’s real.  But aren’t
there any other kinds of flowers in the area besides those that match what
James used to give me?

Our
first day at Bay Woods was a little hectic, but as the week went on, Shel and I
fell into a steady rhythm.  The environment was friendly, our manager
easy-going, and driving the beverage cart around outside in the sun was an
added bonus.  It was exhausting work, however, with all the stocking and
lifting.  I was using muscles I never knew I had.  Shel’s hope was that, by the
end of the summer, we will have built up some core strength and have amazing
tans.

“This
routine agrees with you,” Shel comments at the end of the week.

I add
more hot dogs to the roller.  “How do you mean?”

“You
look rested; your eye bags look smaller.”

I
grimace.  “Thanks for noticing.”

“You’re
welcome,” she smiles.

“I have
been sleeping really hard.  I’m so tired by the time we get home.”

“Tell
me about it.”  She stretches her back.

That’s
when I realize I haven’t had any more memory dreams.  Not one.  I try to think
back to the last one I had.  My face falls.

“What’s
wrong?”

Before
I can stop myself, I say “I’ve stopped dreaming.”

Shel
looks confused.

“Never
mind,” I say quickly, shaking my head.

A
customer approaches the counter and needs Shel’s attention.  I go back to the hot
dogs.  Have I thought about James every day?  Yes.  But my dreams have stopped
and it makes me sad.  I enjoyed the memories my subconscious found and shared
with me again.  Silently, I pray that the dreams will return; I don’t want to
forget anything.  Ever.

“I hate
it when you’re sad.”

James’
voice rings loud and clear in my head.  A perfect rendition, just like when I
was in the shower.  My head snaps up.

“I’m
right here with you.”

Shel
nudges me.  “We’re out of napkins.  I’ll go get some more from the back.”

I nod
at her and move to the front to take over the register.

What
was that?  Hearing his voice again?  Maybe my mind is compensating for the lack
of dreams by recalling his voice.  I smile.  That’s okay with me.

I busy
myself checking the condiments to make sure they are full and notice the salt
shakers are low.  I crouch down and start to rummage around under the counter
for the funnel to fill them.

“Man,
the service in this place sucks.”

Seriously? 
I pop up from behind the counter to see Matt standing there, pulling on the
fingers of his golf glove.  I sigh in relief.  “I was ready to let you have
it!”

He
smiles at me.  “How’s the job going?”

“Pretty
good.  How’d the course treat you today?”

“Not
too bad,” he turns slightly and tilts his head to his left.  “My old man still
beat me though.”

“Hey
Matt!” Shel says as she returns with the napkins.

He
waves to her.

“So,” I
ask him, “what can I get you?”

“Well,
I owe my dad a beer for beating me, so two Miller’s please.”

I nod
and walk to the cooler.

“What
have you been up to?” I hear Shel ask him as I pull out the cans.

“Not
much.  Visiting with family, mostly,” he replies.  “Helping out at the clinic
when Sheila calls in.”

Shel
laughs.  “I can’t imagine you as a receptionist!”

Matt
pretends to be offended.  “I’m pretty good at it if I do say so myself.”

“Here
you go,” I put the cans on the counter and he hands me some bills.

“So,
it’s Friday night.  What are you up to?” he asks.

“Nothing!” 
Shel is quick to respond.  Too quick.  I give her a wary look out of the corner
of my eye.

“Great!” 
Matt says.  “We’re having a barbeque at our house tonight, to kick off Memorial
Day weekend.  You down?”

No, I
think.  The last thing I want to do is pretend to mingle with people I don’t
know.

“Sure!”
Shel responds.

“What
about you Emma?” Matt asks.

“Oh, I
don’t think…”

“We’ll
be there,” Shel cuts me off with an elbow to the side.

“Invite
your parents, too,” Matt tells me.  “We’ll be starting around seven,” he adds
as he starts to walk away.

“Should
we bring anything?” Shel asks.

“No,
just yourselves,” he smiles and walks toward his father to hand him his prize
for winning today.

I glare
at Shel.

“What?”

“I
don’t feel like...”

She
cuts me off again with a pout.  “You never feel like it.”

I huff
and go back to looking for the funnel to fill the salt shakers.

“You
need to get out,” she presses.

I find
the funnel and stand.  “Do you remember the last time we went out?”  My
question comes out harsher than I intended.

She
blinks and then narrows her eyes.  “Yes.  I do.”

“And?”

“It will
be fun.  We won’t stay late; we have to be back here at eight a.m. anyway.”

All
I can do is sigh.

When
Shel tells my parents about the barbeque, they are just as excited as she is to
have something to do this evening.  Saying “You just can’t show up
empty-handed,
”
my mother goes about preparing a potato salad as Shel and I change out of our
sweaty work clothes.  We decide to drive separately to Matt’s house; my parents
may not want to stay as late as Shel and I.  This works for me.  If Shel wants
to stay later, I’ll hitch a ride back home with my mom and dad.

When we
arrive at the Randall’s, I try to remember the last time I was here.  It had to
be sometime in high school.  When I was little, I always thought Matt had the
coolest house because they had a big yard and a pool.  Arriving here now, I can
see his parents have done a lot of landscaping work over the last few years. 
When we walk around to the back of the house, the yard looks amazing.  A huge
tent is set up near a fancy stone fire pit with matching stone benches.  The
tent has been outfitted with tables and chairs and little outdoor lanterns hang
underneath.  The pool still stands in the center of the yard, but it is now surrounded
by an elaborate deck, which has stairs that lead to an ornately designed paver
patio, complete with outdoor bar.  Next to the bar stands the largest grill
I’ve ever seen.  Their backyard looks like an outdoor kitchen.  Tiki torches
are lit to fend off mosquitoes, comfy patio furniture is set throughout the
yard, and Mrs. Randall’s flower beds are overflowing with colorful perennials. 
Music fills the air, coming from speakers that are hidden in the gardens to
look like rocks.  Several people mill about with drinks and several more are
lounging in the chairs and under the tent.  The whole scene is impressive.

“I’m so
glad you could make it!” Mrs. Randall appears, wearing an apron.  She hugs my
mother and then me, taking me by surprise.  “I was thrilled when Matt told me
he had run into you at the golf course!”

“Thanks
for having us,” my mother smiles at her.  “Where would you like the food?”

“Oh, I’ll
take it,” Mrs. Randall says, taking the salad.  “Go ahead and make yourselves
comfortable.  Dan’s firing up the grill as we speak.  There are drinks at the
bar,” she nods toward the patio.

“Thanks,”
we all say.

Mrs.
Randall gets distracted as more guests arrive and starts to walk away.  “I’ll
be busy until the food’s ready, but I hope we get a chance to catch up!” she
says over her shoulder.

We head
to the bar.  I make things easy and grab a bottle of lemonade.  I spy a
grouping of empty chairs and head that way.  “I’ll be over there,” I tell Shel.

I plop
down in one of the lounges and prop my feet up.  The sun is shining and it
warms me.  I take a drink of lemonade and close my eyes.  I could get used to
this minus all these people.

I sense
Shel arrive and sit down on the lounge next to me.  I open my eyes and squint
at her.  “What’d you get?”

“Margarita.”

We sit
in the sun, sipping our drinks.  It’s a fun and friendly atmosphere, although I
don’t recognize many people.  I notice my parents talking with someone across
the yard by the fire pit.  Soon I start to smell meat cooking on the grill and
my stomach growls.

“Whoa! 
Was that you?” Shel asks.

I pat
my belly.  “Yep.”

Within
minutes Shel’s stomach growls just as loud.  We burst out laughing.

“What’s
so funny?” Matt asks as he walks up behind us.

“Our
stomachs are talking to each other,” Shel explains and swings her feet off the
lounge so he can sit.

“That
looks good,” he says to Shel and takes her drink from her hand.  “What is it?”
he asks as he tastes it.

“Margarita. 
A strong one.  Who’s your bartender?”

Matt
laughs.  “My uncle Al.  You might want to take it easy with those.”  He hands
Shel’s drink back to her and looks at me.  “What have you got?”

I hold
up my bottle.  “Lemonade, straight up.”

“Ah. 
Living on the edge, I see,” he smiles.

I
notice people making their way toward the tent with plates.  “Must be time to
eat,” I say and stand.  “I’m starving.”

Shel
looks at me with wide eyes.  “Really?”

I give
her an exasperated look.  “Yes, really.”

“I’m
starving too,” Matt says.  “Let’s go before everything’s gone.”

We make
our way to the buffet table and fill our plates.  We return to the lounges to
eat instead of heading to the crowded tent.  Shel and Matt carry on effortless
conversation as usual; I concentrate on my barbeque ribs.  They’re delicious.

After
we finish, Shel gets another margarita.  She and Matt decide to play a game of
horseshoes with a couple of Matt’s cousins while I watch from a nearby hammock. 
Everyone is so carefree; it feels nice to be taking part in it, albeit a small
part.  I think of James and how much fun we would have had here.  At first I
smile, but then my face falls.  I try to stop it, but I miss him so much.

As dusk
falls, a fire is lit in the fire pit.  I wander over to make a quick s’more.  Sitting
down on one of the benches, I skewer my marshmallow, and hold it over the
fire.  Once it’s good and crispy, I pull it off the stick by squashing it
between two graham crackers and pulling.  I keep the chocolate separate, taking
a bite of it and then a bite of the marshmallow/graham cracker combo.  The
chocolate doesn’t melt all over your fingers this way.

“I
thought I was the only one who did that,” someone says as he takes a seat
beside me.  I look over to see some guy I don’t know.

I scoot
over to give him some room.  “It’s less messy,” I shrug.

He
skewers his marshmallow and begins the same process.  “I’m Dane,” he introduces
himself and shifts his marshmallow stick to his left hand to offer me a
handshake.  “You are?”

“Emma,”
I shake his hand tentatively.

“How do
you know the Randall’s?” he asks.

“Matt
invited me.  I’ve known him since we were little.”  I pause.  I really don’t
want to talk to this guy, but my conscience tells me to be polite.  “You?”

“Old
family friend,” he smiles at me.  “My dad and Dr. Randall are long-time fishing
buddies.”

I nod
while I finish my s’more, and then stare at the fire.  I have nothing to say to
Dane, but it feels rude to just get up and leave.  I assess him out of the
corner of my eye.  He sits taller than me and he’s about my age, maybe slightly
older.  In this light, he looks like he has dark hair and eyes, and he’s
wearing a black fitted t-shirt and jeans.  If I wasn’t so melancholy I would
say he was cute.  We sit in silence as he assembles his graham crackers and
marshmallow.

He
clears his throat.  “I couldn’t help but notice that you’re looking kind of
sad.  Anything wrong?”  He takes a bite.

I
wasn’t expecting that question.  I stare at the fire as my mind answers him. 
Yes,
something is very, very wrong.  James is gone and I am alone.  I’ve stopped
dreaming about him, but sometimes I hear his voice.  I may be going crazy. 
It’s hard for me to do anything but what my friend tells me to do.  I’m pretty
messed up and not much fun.  You can go now, its okay.