Authors: Trisha Grace
She knew, but there was something in his voice when he talked about Christopher, and she was stupid enough to be concerned.
She shrugged. “I was planning to come back anyway; not here, but I’m supposed to be in L.A. in a week.”
“So who are you working with this time?”
“I’m just meeting a friend for a chat.” She glanced up the empty stairway, then back at the door. “I should get going. I’m rather tired.”
“Of course. You’ll join us for dinner, right?”
Chloe laughed softly. “I’m old enough to call you Amy, but not old enough to take care of my own dinner.”
Amy narrowed her eyes.
“I’m kidding. I think I’ll be sleeping, so I’ll give dinner a pass. But thanks anyway.” She waved the key in her hand and went out the door.
“All right, have a good rest. Oh, here.” Amy reached into the turquoise glass bowl that looked exactly like the one she’d seen when she used to live here and pulled out another key. “You can use my car while you’re here.”
“Are you sure?”
Amy nodded. “I’ll be fine. If I need the car, I know where to find you.”
“Thanks.”
“And Chlo, when you’re free, you should check out the basement.”
Chloe yawned and stretched her back as she woke. She ran her hand through her hair while her stomach growled. Reaching over, she grabbed her cell phone to check the time.
It was around dinnertime. There would be food at Amy’s house, but she didn’t want to see Christopher again.
She sighed and pushed herself off the bed. She’d just drive out and get something to eat.
A sense of dread crept up on her as she thought about that, but there wasn’t anything to be worried about. She would be in the car, no one would see her.
She took a quick shower, changed, and left the house.
She kept her head low as she headed to the car, just as she did when she got to the house.
The neighbors had always looked at her weirdly, especially after her stay in the psychiatric hospital. Her mother’s loud tirades in public never helped either.
Pulling the seat belt over herself, she remembered the place she used to escape to whenever she wanted to be away from everyone.
A small open space by the river surrounded by firs and pines.
She could almost see the scene now, see the colors caused by the water that sometimes streamed down from higher grounds and spilled out from among the trees into the river below.
Sometimes she’d close her eyes and listen to the sound; sometimes she’d simply sit for hours and watch light, ethereal colors fill the place.
It was her secret paradise. Her second place of refuge.
The water in that part of the river was too strong for fishing, and the spot was off the usual tracks that hikers usually took.
She and Christopher had discovered it by accident when they were young.
The desire to see the place overtook her hunger, and she turned the car, wondering if her paradise had remained the same.
She was hopeful. After all, in the short drive from her parents’ house, she noticed most of the houses looked the same. Even Mr. Bailey’s red beat-up car that had the most choppy engine was still parked outside his house.
As she turned the car into the familiar road, she unbuckled her seatbelt, ready to park the car. That was when she noticed the road that cut into the woods.
That road didn’t exist when she was living here. There was a hiking trail nearby, but not a road.
She drove up to the road and noticed the sign,
Private Property
.
Oh well, she wasn’t sure where this road led anyway, and she might end up lost.
As she got out of the car, she pinched her lips and wondered if someone had built a house by the river.
No, please don’t let that be true.
That was her place.
It wasn’t really hers, of course. She didn’t own the land, but she had always thought of it as hers—and Christopher’s.
She tipped her head back and stretched her hands over her head as she took a deep breath. This was the one place in Dunsmuir she could relax.
Here, she didn’t have to pretend she didn’t notice the strange stares people cast over their shoulders. Here, she didn’t have to ignore the murmurs about her sanity.
She especially loved to hike through the trail in winter. Everything was so still, so quiet. She could always come here to escape the explosion of colors either from her parents or from the rest of the world.
She could see the colors wafting around her as she got nearer to the river.
The colors created by nature, despite how colorful they may be, were usually soothing. The colors didn’t carry any hint of darkness, and they always felt light and airy. Even in severe storms, the colors only got more intense, but they never gave her headaches or overwhelmed her.
The colors floated closer to her as she breathed in, and her smile broadened as the river finally came into sight.
She missed this place so much, but as she stepped out from the trees, her heart sank.
A modern rectangular two-story house stood right beside where she and Christopher used to lounge.
Who built this house? She squinted from where she was, trying to peer into the house through the full-length clear glass panels that framed most of the house.
She adjusted her scarf as heated air rose from her chest to her neck, but almost as instantly as the anger rose, it subsided while an aching sadness took over.
I want to look out at the river while I write.
She could almost see herself talking to Christopher as they sat by the river.
That was years ago, when they were still young and naive.
Who was she kidding? This wasn’t her place. It was simply a place she and Christopher escaped to.
She shook her head as she thought about the row they had. It was so silly, so childish. He was no longer eighteen, and she wasn’t seventeen. Eight years had passed between them. She should’ve gotten over his disappearance from her life.
They were only friends. He didn’t owe her anything.
She looked back at the house and stuffed her hands into her jacket’s front pockets.
She wished the house was hers. With all the glass windows, she could definitely write her song while gazing out at the river.
She shook her head. She should let go of this place. She and Christopher had both moved on in life.
And I want to have a balcony so I can spend all day sitting and gazing at the river.
She walked right up to the edge of the river and looked toward the house. She hoped the owner built a balcony. It was such a beautiful place, and it deserved to have someone sit and admire its beauty every day.
She broke into a small smile when she saw the balcony.
At least the owner has taste.
“What … are you … doing here?”
She spun around, and the first thing she noticed was the deep-sea blue eyes.
It was so strange to see her standing by the house.
Even after eight years, she still looked incredible. Her ginger hair contrasted against her fair skin, probably explaining the subtle glow he always felt she had. Then there were her eyes, he’d always loved how her light blue eyes gazed at him. They always seemed to look right into his soul.
Maybe it was due to all the colors that were always trying to distract her. Whenever she focused, her gaze always felt penetrating.
It wasn’t threatening or scary, though.
She had always been accepting. While people usually shunned him or looked at him with pity in their eyes, she never did. His stuttering never bothered her. To her, that was just part of who he was.
Her brows puckered as she stared at him. “Is this yours?”
He blinked and his gaze followed her finger to the house. His chin jerked involuntarily. “Yes,” he said after a moment.
Her frown deepened and she shook her head.
He wasn’t sure if she was angry or in disbelief, so he stood where he was while she turned to the house.
“Why didn’t you call or write to me? You couldn’t be bothered to do that, but you built this house.” She turned back to him, and her eyes bore into his. “Why?”
“Why did you just … leave?”
“Why do you keep saying that?” She took a step toward him. “I didn’t just leave. I was seventeen; I didn’t have a choice. I explained everything in my letter.”
“You knew … you knew you were … leaving. Why didn’t … you tell me … earlier?”
“Because I didn’t want to distract you from the competition. You were so close to winning. I knew you could do it, and I didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize your chances.”
He studied her expression. He never understood her faith in him, but it never failed to warm his heart.
He took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. “I didn’t get any letter.”
Her gaze remained fixated on him. “Even if you didn’t see the letter I left you, I wrote another letter to you. Your mom said she handed it to your assistant.”
He frowned. He couldn’t remember ever getting a letter from Chloe. He’d seen and replied to many letters from fans, but never one from her. “I … I never … got anything from you.”
She closed her eyes and one of her shoulders twitched. “Whatever, that was years ago. It doesn’t matter anymore,” she said as she strode toward him.
She walked past him without giving him another glance.
His chin jerked as he tried to speak. His stuttering always worked against him whenever he was in a hurry to speak.
Chloe was always patient with him, but that was when she could see him struggling. She wasn’t looking at him now.
Despite years of willing himself to forget her, he never did. Even with how busy he was, he couldn’t get her off his mind. It didn’t help that his most popular song was written by her.
“Wait,” he finally managed, but it was too late. Chloe had disappeared into the woods.
He could go after her, but his legs wouldn’t move.
Running his hand through his hair, he looked at the house he’d built.
All those times when he and Chloe had talked about their dream house by the river, he had a thought in the back of his mind. Once he had the money, he would build the house for her.
Though he was angry with her for leaving without a word, he still went through with it.
He wasn’t sure why.
He’d only been here twice in eight years, once when it was first built and now.
When he first built the house, he never thought it would be so hard to be here without Chloe.
He stared at the woods. He couldn’t believe he’d allowed her to walk out of his life again, but what else could he do?
He was a nobody now.
Any day, the news would be released to the public.
It would be better for Chloe not to have someone like him in her life.
He rubbed his hand against his throat where a sudden dryness was causing his throat to itch.
Chloe barely held back her groan when she opened the door to see Frank Cumming.
The problem with small towns.
“Hi, Chloe, I’m not sure if you remembered me.”
Oh, she remembered him all right, along with all the nasty things he’d said about her.
“I’m Frank.”
She continued looking up at him, refusing to partake in the conversation he was steering her into. She’d never spoken to Frank before. All of their interactions were one-sided, with Frank yelling something stupid and ridiculous in her face each time they passed each other in school.
“Don’t remember?” Frank scratched his head at her prolonged silence. “We went to school together.”
She was certain Frank wanted something from her, probably something about a song. He was wasting his time, though; she wasn’t going to do any favor for him.
One of her hand had remained behind the door, and she was about to slam it close when Frank slapped his hand against it. The sudden action, coupled with the sudden blinding light created from the sound, startled her.
“I heard you’re a songwriter now.”
She took a deep breath and put more force on the door, but Frank’s hand kept the door right where it was. She glared up at him, still refusing to speak.
“What? You’re just going to stay silent? Looks like nothing’s changed.”
That thought was mutual.
“Look.” Frank ran his hand through his hair. “My band and I created a demo.”
“Not interested.”
“So you do have a voice.”
She rolled her eyes and took a step back. She was determined to close the door this time, even if she had to press her entire body weight against it to do so, but Frank curled his hand under her arm and jerked her toward him.
“Look, just because you had a hit, doesn’t give you the right to be arrogant.”
She tried to pry her arm from his hand, but he tightened his fingers, pressing deeper into her arms. She kept her face straight, not allowing herself to show any pain. “And what gave you the right to be arrogant? Your brute strength? What are you going to do? Shout horrible things at me until I promise to listen to your demo?”
“Listen, you crazy—”
“I’m not crazy.”
Frank scoffed. “Your own parents sent you to the loony bin.”
She clenched her jaws to stop herself from shouting. The last thing she needed was to prove him right. “I’m not crazy.”
“Let her go.”
Chloe recognized the voice immediately.
Frank looked over his shoulder and laughed. He released her hand and took a step toward Christopher. “Or what?”
“Leave her alone.”
Chloe pulled in her lower lip and turned to look into the house. She scanned the living room, searching for something she could use to defend herself or help Christopher.
A pop from behind her made her turn around, and she found Frank lying on the floor, seemingly unconscious.
“Are you okay?” Christopher asked.
She couldn’t stop staring at the unconscious Frank.
“Chloe.”
“I didn’t know you knew how to fight.”
He remained at the end of the driveway, not taking a single step toward her. “Did he … hurt you?”
She shook her head, and they looked at each other for a few seconds.