Speed of My Heart (11 page)

After Cole left, I sat on my front porch in one of the wooden rocking chairs and stared off into space. I was surprised how affected I was by watching Cole drive off for good. What had started with me just dipping my feet into the dating pool after a year long hiatus, had turned into something else entirely.

Dragging myself up out of the chair, I walked around to the side of the house where my grandmother was already hard at work in her garden.

The dreaded garden. With heavy steps, I made my way over to her, kneeled down and reluctantly began pulling weeds.

My grandmother, wearing a large straw hat, was doing the same with methodical efficiency. No weed stood a chance when she was around.

"Tough morning?" she asked, without looking up.

I sighed, and it felt like it came from the very depths of my soul. Like all of the anxiousness and tension I’d felt while watching Cole drive away had built and built until it had nowhere to go but out. I had to remind myself that it wasn't necessarily the end for us. After all, he had promised to keep in touch. Soon, we'd only be living six hours away from each other. So, anything was possible.

"Yes, it was," I confessed. "I didn't expect it to be as hard as it has been."

She paused in her weeding to peer up at me from under her hat. "I had a feeling this was going to happen," she confided. "I think even your grandfather fell for him a bit. Such a nice young man."

I smiled at her lovingly. "Very. But, you never know what will happen. We'll see."

"Yes, time will tell," she said wistfully, her eyes glazing over like she was seeing some faraway memory. "Just remember that your heart will never lead you astray. If you listen to it, you will never be disappointed."

I nodded. Not really sure what to say to that. I guess there had been plenty of times, maybe even every time, that I had ignored what my heart was telling me in previous relationships. Maybe that was what she was insinuating.

My thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of my phone from where it was lying on the ground next to me. Seeing Sam's name pop up on the display screen, I quickly grabbed it and began walking toward the house as I answered. I had a feeling that whatever he had to say, I wouldn't want to discuss in front of my grandmother.

"Hey, Mara," Sam greeted me.

"Hi, Sam. What's up?"

"Well, I've got some news on the threatening object that was placed on your car the other night." His voice was hesitant, and it was making me nervous.

"Seems that Marcus has an alibi for that night," he informed me with reluctance. "Apparently he was in a bar in Jamestown. He's got three guy's backing his story. They say they were there with him the whole night and had to practically carry him home. I called and verified their story with the bartender that was working. It's rock solid."

I gulped, feeling like someone had knocked the wind out of me. "So, if Marcus didn't do it, then who did?" I asked anxiously.

"I'm sorry, Mara," he said tenderly. "We don't know that yet and unfortunately, there are no other leads. Do you remember seeing anyone hanging around your vehicle that night?" he questioned.

"No. But, then again, I wasn't really paying attention and there were so many people coming and going."

"Maybe it was a random act," Sam reasoned. "Either way, we're going to keep an eye out and let you know if we find anything. But, Mara," he pleaded, “until we've finished investigating, be aware of your surroundings. Let someone know where you're going, and take someone with you if you'll be out at night alone. Just play it safe."

"I will," I promised. "I can't think of anyone else that would have done something like that, so maybe it was just a random prank." I wanted to believe that.

"Mara —," Sam started and then hesitated. "I know I don't usually like the guys you date."

Naturally, I thought, rolling my eyes.

"There’s a reason for that. Cole is an alright guy, don‘t get me wrong. But, I can‘t help but think that no one can protect you, or cares about you the way that I do," he admitted, his voice seeming to take on something that wasn’t brotherly at all.

My eyes widened, and I swallowed convulsively. Sam couldn’t be alluding to what I thought he was? I just didn’t have the strength for it right now.

“Sam,” I said in warning. “Please. Don’t.”

Sam cleared his throat. “I just meant that you’re special to me, Mara. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“I know,” I said, relieved that I had misunderstood. Sam had always been there for me, and I couldn’t imagine dealing with all of this without his support.

“Just watch your back, Mara. Some people are crazier than you‘d think.”

"Apparently,” I said, thinking of Marcus. "Thanks, Sam —for everything."

"Anytime, baby. I'll let you know if I find out anything."

Later that evening, I parked my car in the parking lot of the dance studio and headed inside. The class Miranda had asked me to teach was advanced ballet. The students in it were high school-aged and it was the last class of the night, ending around 9:30. The sun was already starting to set as I headed through the front door. Bethany, another instructor, was standing at the front desk in the process of pulling her pocketbook out from under the counter.

"Hi, Mara!" she greeted me. "Thank you so much for covering for Miranda. If you hadn't done it, I would have had no choice but to stay, and I've got a
hot
date tonight. You really saved me," she said gratefully.

I smiled over at Bethany as I placed my purse under the counter. "No problem," I replied genuinely. It actually made me feel better about the whole thing that I was helping someone else besides Miranda. Plus, I needed the distraction tonight. Otherwise, I was pretty sure I’d be sitting around moping about Cole leaving. Even now, I felt a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach just knowing he was so far away from me.

"Oh, by the way," Bethany said on her way out the door. "There was some confusion and Tabitha didn't know she was supposed to work today.” She rolled her eyes in annoyance. “So, you'll be the only one here to lock up," she said with an apologetic look.

Lovely, I thought, thinking about all the little things that had to be done before closing. Besides, with everything that had been going on, staying late by myself wasn’t the best idea. I sighed, and shook the worry off since there'd be lots of girls and parents leaving at the same time.

The next couple of hours flew by and I found that I really missed teaching. I usually helped with a few classes every summer, but had decided against it since I'd be leaving for college in the middle of August.

 I left my bag in the classroom we had used and followed the girls up front. I turned the computer off at the front desk as a couple of dancer's stood in the lobby waiting for their parents to pick them up. After locking up the money drawer and turning off a few lights in the front classrooms, I checked back in the lobby to find just one girl, Kylie, remained.

She looked at me apologetically. "Sorry, my mom said she was running a little late and it would probably be another ten minutes before she’d be here."

"That's okay," I assured her. "I'll just finish locking up and we'll leave together." I was actually relieved it had worked out that way. At least I wouldn't be stuck leaving by myself.

By the time I finished turning all the lights off for the night and straightening up, Kylie and her mom were waiting for me in the lobby.

"Thank you for hanging around while I closed up," I told Kylie's mom. She was a petite lady with a sleek, sophisticated bob.

She smiled and waved away my gratitude. "I shouldn't have been late. It's the least I could do."

I locked the door behind us and we heading into the parking lot, chatting idly about how well Kylie had picked up on the new skill I'd taught that night.

I waved to Kylie and her mom as they drove by, pulling out of the parking lot. I put the key in my ignition and was just starting my car, when I groaned aloud in frustration.

Ugh! I'd left my pocketbook in the classroom we'd practiced in. I peered through the night at the dark studio, trying to decide whether or not I should go in after it. It would be tomorrow afternoon before I could make it back here, and I had a hair appointment and lunch plans before then. I was really going to need my wallet.

I sighed aloud, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel as I deliberated. In the past, I wouldn't have thought twice about running back in to retrieve it, but Sam's warning was playing in my head.

I put the car in gear and drove across the street to the gas station I always stopped in. The elderly man who worked there was sitting behind the counter and greeted me happily when I walked in. He had kind, weathered blue eyes and a head full of white hair. With his matching white beard, he reminded me of Santa Claus.

"Hi, Mr. Stevens," I returned. "Can I borrow your phone really quick? I don‘t have mine with me."

"Sure, sweetheart," he said generously, waving towards the counter where the telephone sat. "It's all yours."

I dialed Sam's cell number and was relieved when he picked up on the first ring.

"Sam, I just wanted to let someone know that I've got to go back to the dance studio to get my purse," I explained. "Everyone's already left and I decided to 'play it safe'," I quoted teasingly.

"I'm glad you did," Sam returned. "Call me when you're leaving so I’ll know you didn't have any problems. I'm glad you decided to listen to me for once," he joked.

After hanging up, Mr. Stevens asked, "Problems?"

"I don't know, to be honest," I responded. I explained some of the odd things that had been happening, from my tires being slashed to the doll tied to the handle of my car.

Mr. Stevens shook his head in wonder. "People these days don't have any sense, bothering a sweet girl like you. I'll keep my eye out from here and watch to make sure you get in and out of that building safely. How about that?"

I smiled, grateful. "That would be great, Mr. Stevens. Thank you."

I felt much better as I pulled my car up to the front of the studio, parking on the curb directly in front of the door. I hurried to unlock the entrance to the building and turned the lobby light on immediately. The classroom I'd left my pocketbook in was the same one at the rear of the building that I always reserved for practicing.  I made my way to it, flipping lights on as I went. I spotted my peacock blue purse on the floor in the far corner of the room.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I walked swiftly over to retrieve it. As my hand grasped the handle, I froze; listening. I swore I could hear the faint sounds of a melody playing somewhere in the studio.

"Damn," I muttered. Someone must have left the cd player on in one of the other rooms. In my rush to close up while Kylie and her mom waited, I must have missed it.

Pulling my pocketbook onto my shoulder, I hurried from the room toward the music. I followed the sound into an adjoining room and punched the power button on the stereo, abruptly ending the haunting notes of a song I didn't recognize.

When I turned around to leave, I nearly jumped out my skin. Miranda was standing in the doorway of the room, dressed in head to toe black. Her pale blonde hair was in a long braid pulled over her shoulder. Her face was watchful and oddly childlike.

I put a hand over my heart, breathless from the scare of seeing someone that I hadn't expected. "Miranda," I managed to get out. I was relieved it was someone I knew, and particularly relieved it wasn't Marcus. "What are you doing here?"

Miranda smiled at me coldly, a tight line that didn't reach her eyes at all. She leaned against the door jam, folding her arms across her chest.

"Mara, Mara, Mara," she said in a sing-songy voice. "Here so late all by yourself?" For the first time, I noticed a strange manic light in her eyes. A chill shot straight down my spine.

"I left me purse," I explained, trying to act normally in hopes she would follow suit. "I was just leaving." I began heading toward the door, even though she was standing in my way.

Miranda took a few steps forward, shaking her head. "Ah, ah, ah, Mara. You're not going anywhere." Her voice was sickeningly sweet and made me feel nauseous.

I looked at her in confusion. "What are you talking about?" I asked. But, I continued forward with determination. The last thing I wanted to do was be stuck in a room with Miranda, who obviously had a few more screws loose than I had originally thought.

I stumbled to a stop when Miranda stepped forward, flashing a silver handgun I hadn't noticed her holding before. I froze, at first unsure if what I was seeing was for real. A second look told me it was definitely real. I eyed the gun she held carelessly in her grip.

"Have you lost your mind, Miranda?" I asked, my voice belaying a calm I didn't feel.

She laughed diabolically and my eyes widened. She really was a total nut case.

Miranda stood with one hand on her hip, the gun dangling haphazardly in the other. "Perfect, little Mara. You think you're so smart, but there's
so
much you don't know."

She pointed the gun at me and I couldn't help it, I jumped. Miranda smiled in sick amusement and held my eyes as she slowly moved the gun to point at a fold out chair in the corner. It was a rickety brown thing that I'd never seen anywhere in the studio before. It made me wonder just how much planning Miranda had put into this little meeting of ours.

"Sit," she commanded.

Not having much of a choice, I walked slowly to the chair and sat down stiffly, all the while my mind racing for a way to escape her craziness.

Miranda’s eyes took on a faraway look and she murmured wistfully, "Do you know how long I've waited for this day to come; dreamed of this day when I would bring the
great
Mara Campbell down where she belongs." Snapping back to the present, she looked at me with disgust. "Of course you don't. Because who would ever imagine that there was someone who didn't like you?" she said mockingly.

"Look, Miranda," I tried to reason. "I don't know what I've done to make you feel this way, but I'm sorry," I pleaded. Pleading with Mara grated on my pride, but the girl did have a gun.

Miranda laughed, shaking her head in a dramatic display of wonder. "You don't know what you did?" She questioned incredulously. She walked toward me in a few angry steps, stopping with one hand by her side in tight fist and the other wrapped too tightly around the gun. She was making me incredibly nervous with her careless handling of it.

"You. Were. Born.
that's what happened." She glared at me with hatred.

I snapped back as if I'd been slapped. I had always known we would never be the best of friends; even when Miranda and I had been preschoolers in the same dance class, I could remember her sulky glares. But, this? I had never imagined she harbored this sort of hate and rage.

"Let me count the ways in which you walking on this earth offends me.  Let's see? Well, there's the lead in just about every ballet we've been in since we were three. I guess it would have been too much to ask to let someone else have a little time in the spotlight. Always so stingy..." She shook her head at me sympathetically. "What else, you ask?"

Miranda began pacing back and forth in front of me while she named what seemed like every skill I had learned before her, every compliment from our instructors that I had gotten when she hadn't, and a long list of other supposed offenses right up to getting into a college when she didn't.

I sat there pretending to listen, but my eyes flitted to the doorway, calculating how long it would take me to get out of the room and to my car. My keys were still squeezed painfully in my fist.

But then she stopped in front of me, making sure to catch my eye before continuing. "You always think you're one step ahead of me," she went on icily. I eyed her in disbelief, thinking that I had never really given her a thought either way. But I abstained from commenting. Somehow, I didn't think stating that fact would help my cause any.

"Always so perfect. Perfect at dance, perfect at school, perfect boyfriend...," she stopped, smiling at me smugly. "Well, not the perfect boyfriend. Because most of the time when Marcus wasn't with you
he was with me."

On this, I really wanted to correct her. Marcus had been the furthest thing from a perfect boyfriend as a person could get. And, quite frankly, while it was news to me that he had been cheating with Miranda; it wasn't as shocking of a revelation as she obviously thought it was.

I kept my mouth shut, just staring at her warily. I didn't think she wanted a response anyway.

Her eyes turned furious. "And low and behold, what does he do as soon as he gets back in town?" she asked rhetorically. "Spend every minute when he's not with me, running after you; that‘s what," she spat out.