Kiss Me If You Dare (34 page)

I giggled and shrugged. “Just a personality quirk, I guess.” I became serious. “Really, Brad. I don’t want to leave you. But I have to do this or live with more regrets.”

“I know, Tish. I have plenty to keep me busy while you’re gone. I’d like to walk my wife down the aisle after our wedding, if it’s okay with you.”

A rush of love washed through me. “I’m going to hold you to that. No more talk of marriage until you’re back on your feet.”

“Then you’ll marry me?”

I swatted him. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Yes,” he said, his voice tickling my ear. “When it comes to you, I just won’t give up.”

“I’m flattered. Now if we can just get you to say that about yourself.”

He nuzzled me with his mouth. “I won’t give up on myself. How’s that?”

His lips tickled and I laughed. “That’ll do.”

I stayed all day and late into the night, hating to leave him, wanting to take back my promise to Koby that I’d be on the plane to Del Gloria, and instead stay and get married and wake up in Brad’s bed come morning.

41

But instead of staying, I left him. Again. I drove my rental car to Sawyer International and got on the flight back to California. And by late afternoon, I was there, taking the bus to Portia’s apartment complex, the place I’d call home for the rest of my college career.

She hugged me when I walked in the door, a clingy embrace that said everything without words. By the time I stepped back, we both had tears running down our faces.

“Look at you. You’re all bandaged up.” I held her armdistance away. White pads were taped to the side of her face and head.

“Just had surgery a few days ago,” she said. “But the prognosis is good. Professor Braddock paid for the best plastic surgeon Hollywood has to offer. There won’t be any scarring.”

“You’re so beautiful,” I said. “I’m glad you’ll be okay.” She gave a shy smile, a charming look for the once-hardened woman. “The doc was pretty torn up when he found out his housekeeper was the guilty party. Can you imagine finding out you’ve been harboring a former terrorist?”

I turned a shoulder to her, staring at white linoleum. “What about Celia?”

“She’s in the burn unit in Sacramento,” Portia said. “At first, they only gave her a few days to live. But that girl is invincible. They expect she’ll be fully recovered by summer.”

“Thank the Lord,” I whispered. “Now, let’s get that Covenant Award. Celia deserves it.”

With winter break over, classes began. I filled my days with homework and houses as the team forged ahead, working long hours to meet project deadlines.

As we repaired, prepped, and painted, I shared the details of my trip to Churchill Falls.

“I knew Simon Scroll was a scum bucket,” Dagger said, his gang clothing covered with paint. “You could tell by looking at him he was up to no good.”

I arched an eyebrow his way. “Careful. Turns out you’re right about Simon, but I’ve been wrong about people over and over when I try to sum them up in one glance.”

Dagger hiked up his dropped waist. “Even without him we can finish in time. Some of my people said they’d help out.”

“If they’re anything like you, your people are the best.” I smiled his way.

Koby edged the woodwork with white paint. “So this guy Brad. He’s pretty messed up now, huh?”

I looked at Koby, with his two artificial legs. At Portia, with only one hand. At Maize, with her nervous energy. Dagger, with his persecution complex. Timid Gwen, with her obsessive perfection disorder. And of course, me with my hang-ups and letdowns.

A shake of my head. “Nope. He’s not messed up. He’s got a few challenges ahead,” I shrugged, “but he’s pretty much just like the rest of us.”

Koby seemed disappointed at my answer. “So you plan on getting back together with him?”

“We never broke up.”

He went back to painting. “If there’s ever anything I can do for you, Tish, just say the word.”

“Thanks, Koby. You’re a good friend.”

As we completed individual homes, families began to move in. I helped coordinate the process, lining up strong backs from the college and the community to haul furniture and boxes for the new inhabitants of Rios Buena Suerta. In return, many of the grown-ups pitched in with the finishing touches on the project. The possibility of meeting our May deadline was becoming a reality.

A month had passed since my return before I got up the nerve to visit Professor Braddock. We’d seen each other in the halls and in various classrooms, but averted our eyes, both suffering too much to discuss our losses.

I knocked on the door of his office at Walters Hall.

“Come in.” His voice sounded weary.

353

A turn of the knob, a push of the door, and I faced the birth father of the man I loved.

“Hi.” I barely knew what to say.

He gestured toward a chair. “Sit. Please.”

I made myself comfortable, refusing to back down or chicken out. “I’m sorry about your housekeeper.”

He smiled sheepishly. “And I’m sorry about your bodyguard.” Our mutual misfortune brought a chuckle from us both. The tension broken, I leaned toward him, pushing an embossed book across his desk. “Thank you for lending me this.”

He picked up the volume and rubbed the leather cover. “
The Count of Monte Cristo
.”

“I took it home to finish.”

His voice was husky. “Did you enjoy the story of a man who exacts vengeance from those who ruined his life?”

“I didn’t care for the ending.”

Denton flipped the pages at random. “Ah. The ending. You wanted him to reunite with the fair Mercedes.”

I nodded.

“An impossibility. You must have realized it in advance.” “The romantic in me never gave up hope.”

“Life is so different than we expect, isn’t it?” His eyes misted over. “We spend so much time chasing after what we think we want, only to have it turn to ashes in our hands.”

I leaned forward. “But the Count ends up getting better than what he wanted. Just not in the way he thought.”

He sighed and looked out the window. “And so the story becomes just another fairy tale.”

I studied his pained profile, my heart reaching out to him. “Don’t give up on Brad. He loves you. He wants you in his life. There can be a happy ending.”

His face crumbled. I went to him, gripping his hands in mine. “I know what Brad’s feeling. I felt it with my father too. Of course Brad is angry with the way things happened between you. Call him. Talk to him. You can work things out. I know you can.”

The professor sat a moment in silence. “So,” he said, “the student becomes the teacher.”

“Just think about it. Anyway,” I gave his hands a final squeeze, “thank you again for lending your book.”

He nodded, looking bereft.

I left him to his thoughts, my feet echoing in the empty hallway as I walked to the elevator.

The semester was almost over, the deadline upon us. We pulled some all-nighters in order to finish before graduation ceremonies. As we put the final touches on the last home, I couldn’t believe I’d survived. There would actually be a college degree with my name on it. All the years of disappointment over not having a diploma were over. Now I could cheer for the MSU Spartans again.

And in the past two years, I’d done everything I needed to do. I’d put to rest my guilt over Grandma Amble’s death, found out my mother had been an amazing photographer, met my father and sisters, and finished college. And it turned out, as weird and messed up as I thought my life was, it was actually pretty cool. I had great relatives, good friends, and a boyfriend who loved me through it all.

I rubbed at a window with a cloth. It was a shame Brad couldn’t be here for the big day. He congratulated me over the phone when we’d talked the other night. But somehow it wouldn’t be the same without him. His health had been steadily improving over the past months, but his doctors wouldn’t give him permission to travel. A final look around by our gang of overworked, exhausted, thirty-something college students. Everything sparkled.

“Perfect,” said Gwen.

“If she says it, then it must be true,” Dagger commented. “Let’s get the clutter out of here.” Portia kept on us as we gathered up the cleaning supplies.

“Take care, everybody,” Portia said. “Tomorrow’s the big day. I guess we’ll find out if all the effort pays off.”

“See you guys tomorrow,” Maize called, skipping out the door.

Portia and I walked to the Dogpatch station, swinging buckets of cleanser and Windex on our arms.

“Have you heard back on that camp position in Michigan?” I asked.

She looked at me, eyebrows raised. “Yes. They want me to interview for associate director.”

“That’s great. What town was that again?”

She laughed. “Just north of Big Rapids. It didn’t look too close to Port Silvan on the map, but if I get the job, maybe we can get together once or twice a year.”

I threw an arm around her neck. “Definitely. That’s so awesome.”

“What about you?” Portia said. “Have you decided what you’re going to do yet?”

“I have.” A smile crossed my lips. “I’m going back to Port Silvan. I’ll live with my grandfather for a while and work at the Coney up the road—”

“Coney?” Portia interrupted. “You mean the restaurant in your old house? I thought you were trying to get them out of there.”

I shook my head. “Nope. I decided it was a perfect fit for Sam and Joel. That’s why I bought it in the first place—fix it up and sell it to the right customer. I’m really glad this time it turned out to be family.” I kept going with my story. “Anyway, Samantha had her baby in March and she’s looking forward to having me help out while she does the mom thing.”

“I’m surprised you’d do that to yourself.”

“Nah. I’ll get to see my baby cousin every day, make a few bucks, and be close to Brad. Once he’s over the rough stuff, he can come stay at Puppa’s.” I gazed at the spring blossoms on some exotic bush near the station. “We’ll enjoy the view at the lake house. It’s right on Silvan Bay, which is gorgeous this time of year. And you can hear the church bells.”

Portia gave a knowing smile. “Speaking of bells, do I hear wedding bells in your future?”

The bus pulled up on schedule.

“Ladies,” the driver said with a nod.

“Hey, Mr. Kim,” Portia greeted the grinning man. “Tomorrow’s graduation. Are you coming?”

“Young lady,” he said, “I haven’t missed a graduation ceremony at Del Gloria College in twenty years.”

“Great. We’ll see you there.”

He slid the door closed and we were on our way, bouncing toward Cliff Edge Apartments.

The next morning, I stayed in bed a few extra minutes, thinking about the day and what it signified in my life. Looking back, I was glad everything happened the way it did. I would have changed a few things if I could, like the trail of dead bodies that seemed to follow me from place to place. The years I’d spent in prison. The loss of my mother. Brad’s life-altering injury. But who’s to say everything didn’t happen just the way it was supposed to, according to God’s higher, grander purpose. It felt good to look back with acceptance rather than regret. I got up and hit the shower, then dressed in my navy blue duds from my admissions interview almost a year ago.

“You look professional,” Portia said, playing with the pleated collar of her summer fashion as we jockeyed back and forth for the lead position in the tiny bathroom mirror.

“Maybe we should trade outfits. You’re the drill sergeant around here.” I laughed.

“Graduated drill sergeant. I can’t wait to be around undisciplined little kids instead of undisciplined adults.”

“Come on. We weren’t that bad.”

She smiled. “You were all hard workers, you just needed direction.”

“And as long as you were working alongside us and not shouting from the sidelines, we didn’t mind taking orders from you.”

Portia shook her head. “Bunch of rebels.”

Laughing, we slipped into high heels and headed for the Dogpatch bench out front.

The graduation ceremonies were traditionally held on the expansive lawn in front of Walters Hall, with the steps and portico serving as stage. The gentle sunshine of late May and a cloudless sky made the location perfect again this year.

Students with hopeful faces sat in folding chairs arranged in rows, forming a patchwork of black and white graduation gowns—black for the men, white for the women. I squeezed Portia’s hand on one side of me, Koby’s on the other, as Dean Lester addressed the graduates along with the crowd of spectators behind us. After an uplifting speech, she introduced Professor Braddock to present the diplomas.

He took his place behind the podium, clearing his throat into the microphone. “Thank you for coming today. We generally like to start out every year by announcing the winner of the Covenant Award, a prize given to a team of students who show extraordinary growth, courage, and accomplishment in their final year at Del Gloria College.” He paused as the spectators applauded. “This year, we have a special visitor who will present the award. This individual himself exemplifies the qualities embodied by the Covenant Award. A year ago, this man nearly died from a bullet wound.”

I gasped, then calmed myself. He couldn’t be talking about Brad.

“The bullet damaged his spine, leaving him virtually paralyzed.” Denton glanced behind him at the doors to the building, then back at the audience.

My shoes squeaked a happy rhythm. My fingers twirled the tassel of my cap.

The professor paused, as if reining in his emotions. “Only through great courage and faith was this individual able to conquer the odds and be here today.”

I told myself not to get my hopes up as the doors opened and a group of people came through, one man pushing a wheelchair. I squinted. That looked like Joel. The woman next to him, with long black hair sweeping over her shoulders, resembled Samantha Walters-Russo. And the man in the wheelchair . . . I caught my breath. It was Brad.

Tears burst forth like water through a dam. I bent forward in my seat, sobbing.

“What’s wrong?” Portia’s voice held urgent concern. I just shook my head, too emotional to answer. He was here. Brad had come to my graduation. There was nothing but my white gown to catch the happiness falling from my eyes.