Rundown (Curveball Book 2) (26 page)

“
I
haven’t figured that out yet.”

Drew
and I watch each other for a long time after Everett leaves.  He
rubs his face several times before shifting his attention to me.  

“
You
ok?” I ask.

“
Not
really,” he admits.

“
Why
don’t you stay here?  Do your charity thing another time?”

“
No,”
he replies.  “It’ll be good to do something positive for
others.  Besides, Alexis is the reason I do this.”

I
accept his answer, knowing how important this is to him.  

“
I
gotta go, but take your time.  Sarah and your dad are down with
Aubrey and Maddie.”

“
They
are?”  I sit up just enough to check the time.  “It’s
only 7:30am.  She’s here early.”

“
Or,
could your dad be coming back late?” Drew wags his eyebrows.

My
dad and Sarah?

“
You
really think so?” I ask.  

Drew
laughs.  “Your dad does seem to have an extra spring in his
step.”  

“
She’s
like fifteen years younger than him.”

“
Your
family must be genetically programed to prefer younger partners.”

“
Hey!”
I scold him while pinching his nipple.  “Take it back.”

“
No
way.  See ya later, baby!”  

Drew
and Colin return as we’re finishing lunch.  I catch Aubrey
assessing Drew through her lashes.  She immediately clears her
plate and then disappears.  I’m about to go after her when she
traipses back into the kitchen carrying her snowsuit, boots, gloves
and hat, and announces that she’s going to play in the snow. 
The door slams behind her and I glance at Colin, who shrugs and heads
into the TV room.  I walk to the entry way and start sliding on
my boots when Drew wraps his arms around me.

“
Mind
if I go?” 

I
give him a weak smile and wish him luck.

Headway

I
walk up next to Aubrey and start balling up snow.  This sounded
like a good idea when I offered coming out here to Breanne; now I’m
having second thoughts.  I have no idea what to say.  I’ve
spent my adult life hitting on women.  Until Breanne, I’ve had
very little in depth conversation with them besides what was required
to get them into bed.   What the hell do I say to a young
girl, pissed at life for taking away her father and likely hating me
because she thinks I’m the replacement? 

“
Can
I help?” I ask.

Aubrey
pulls her shoulders up and drops them quickly as she continues
packing snow.  This is one of those moments where, even if it’s
awkward, the silence feels right.   If I had any wisdom to
spout, what would she say anyway?   She could tell me she
was fine, which would be a lie.   She could tell me she
hates me, which I’m pretty sure she doesn’t, but I’m not
willing to find out.  Contemplating the possible outcomes, I
decide to stay quiet.

For
the next 30 minutes we pack snow and shape our snowman.  Aside
from me grabbing sticks for the arms, we work side by side until it’s
done.  Once the snowman is complete, I stand up and offer my
hand before pulling her to her feet.  Now I feel like I should
say something. 

“
I
recently lost someone I loved,” I tell her.  “My sister,
Alexis.  She was pretty awesome.  Really smart and a good
person.  You would have liked her.”

“
Was
she sick?”

Shaking
my head, I stuff my gloved hands into the pockets of my jacket.  “No.
 She was in a car accident.”

“
Oh,”
she replies, her voice small.  “I’m sorry.”

“
Thanks,”
I tell her.  “My point in telling you this is that I want you
to know I understand what it’s like to love someone and lose them.
 It sucks.  If you want to talk about it I’d be happy to
listen.  Or not,” I add nervously.   

Talking
to a five-and-a-half-year-old should not be underestimated.   Behind
that cute face is a seriously intimidating little girl.  

“
I
won’t call you Dad,” she announces.  I should probably feel
slightly disappointed, but I don’t.  I’m impressed that even
though she’s young, and hurting, she’s comfortable enough to tell
me how she feels.  
That’s got to count for something,
right?

“
I
wouldn’t ask you to,” I assure her. 

Aubrey
stares at me for several seconds when the first tear falls down her
cheek.   She seems to accept this and looks at her feet. 

“
Hot
chocolate?” I offer. 

Aubrey
lifts her head and almost smiles.

The
silence stretches between the two of us as we sit at the counter
sipping from our mugs.   Moments later when Aubrey slides
off the stool and places her mug in the sink, I wonder if the last
hour was pointless.   I am so far out of my element.  I
watch her walk to the window, presumably looking out at our snowman. 
She places her hand on the window and releases a deep breath.
 Convinced that I’ve failed, I do the same.

“
My
dad never played with me in the snow,” Aubrey says, and before I
have a chance to react, she’s already left the room.

After
cleaning up our dishes, I lay down on the couch.  
Talk about
a stressful day
.  
What the hell’s it going to be like
when she’s a teenager?  
That’s a scary thought.  I
drag my hand over my face as my imagination gets the better of me.  

Staring
into the crackling fireplace, I feel myself drifting off as I
contemplate my life.  As much as I love being here with Breanne
and the kids, I seriously hate this house.  I want to have our
own life.  Lying here on this couch takes effort I barely have.
 I hate that she sat here with Mark and for some reason the fact
that she had a life before me really pisses me off.   It’s
wrong to hate a dead guy; I know that.  Yet I’m sure he’s
the link that’s put her in danger, and I resent that even from the
grave he’s having an impact on our lives.  Sleepily, I reach
into my back pocket, remove my wallet and take out the piece of paper
from the barn.  

Not
all treasure is buried,

Some
is simply locked away.

At
times, dangling in front of you,

Or
stored out of harms way.

Shattered
glass can’t break our memories,

They
aren’t measured with a clock.

You’re
the one who holds the key,

She
the door to unlock.

Guard
the people and secrets you uncover,

As
those who protect us sometimes lie.

When
the tides have changed and the danger’s gone,

Make
a wish and say goodbye.

1-4-3

I
grip the paper in my fist and lower it to my chest.  
What
does this mean, Alexis?  Why couldn’t you have just said it
instead of making everything a riddle?  
As frustrating as
her riddles are, it’s something she always did. If she wasn’t
comfortable enough to just tell me, she must have had a good reason.

Closing
my eyes, I think back to what Everett told Breanne and me earlier,
about the fate of the real pilots.  I’m transported back to
that moment when the man who wrongfully piloted the plane emerged
from the cockpit and passed me by, ultimately exiting to his death.
 Memories blur into wishes and an opportunity to revise history.
 

I
lean across Breanne into the aisle to get a better look and see the
door to the cockpit start to open.  The pilot, who I had my
picture taken with before boarding the flight, starts down the aisle
towards me.  He’s holding a briefcase so tight his knuckles
are white.  His face is dripping with beads of sweat and he
looks scared as hell as he takes note of all of the bodies.  

We
make eye contact as he approaches my row.

“
You
piece of shit,” I yell.  “Look what you did to all these
innocent people.”

The
pilot looks me in the eyes and pauses briefly.  I rise and lunge
at him, knocking his suitcase from his hand.  

“
Tell
me why, you fucking coward,” I demand, finding relief in wrapping
my hands around his neck.  Applying more pressure, he gasps for
air.  “What did you do this for?  Huh?” I ask, slamming
his head against the floor.  

His
hands are pressing against my face, a weak attempt to get me to stop.
 Instead, I dig my thumbs deeper into his throat.  He
gurgles, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.  His limp
hands stop fighting and drop lifelessly to the ground.  

Drenched
in sweat and shaking, I let go and kneel back.  I close my eyes
and feel panic over what I’ve just done.  When I reopen my
eyes, my anxiety increases as black widow spiders crawl out of his
mouth.

“
Ahhh.
Get off,” I shout.  

My
eyes flutter open and my body scurries backward.  Short of
breath, I frantically look around, checking for spiders, but there’s
none.  Something touches my shoulder as I try to catch my
breath, causing me to jump.  

“
Easy,”
Breanne’s soothing voice calls out.  “You had another
nightmare.”

Shifting
my gaze, I notice Breanne standing beside me, holding a blanket to
her chest.  My panting slowly returns to a normal pace.  Using
the back of my hand, I wipe the sweat from my forehead.  

“
You
really should talk to someone about this.  It’s not getting
any better.”

“
I’m
fine.  Really.  I just didn’t realize I’d fallen
asleep.  Who knew building a snowman was so physically
intensive?”