The Hourglass Door (21 page)

“Walk
me
home, then?” he asked with a small smile, the humor in his voice eliciting a return smile from me.

Suddenly, spending the afternoon with Dante seemed like the best idea in the world.

I wound my scarf tighter around my neck and we walked across the parking lot together.

“It must be nice living at the Dungeon,” I said after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

“It’s not too bad,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Leo is like a father to me.”

“You don’t talk about your family very much. How long has it been since you’ve been home?”

“Sometimes it feels like a long time,” Dante said quietly. “Other times . . .” He shrugged. “Other times it feels like it was just yesterday.”

“I know how that is. Last summer I spent a week in Albuquerque for a yearbook and school newspaper convention. I was homesick the very first night, but by the end of the week, it felt like I was a native Albuquerquian.” I breathed out a laugh in a wreath of cold air. I hadn’t thought about that trip in ages. “The whole time I was gone, though, I missed my family—even my sister Hannah, if you can believe it.” I tugged at the end of my scarf. “I can’t imagine being away from my family for a whole year.”

“It
has
been an unusually difficult year,” Dante said.

“What about your family? Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“I had an older brother.”

“Had?” I sensed we were skirting a sensitive topic and tried to choose my words carefully. “Is he . . . ?”

Dante nodded.

“I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago,” he said, a peculiar strain to his voice. We walked quietly together for several steps before he spoke again. “I wanted to be just like him once.”

“What was he like?”

“He was a hero,” Dante said firmly.

I could tell by the set of his jaw that he was done talking about his brother and I wasn’t going to force the conversation.

“Thanks for keeping me company this afternoon,” I said finally.

“Piacere mio.”

His accent slipped off his tongue like water.

We stopped at the corner, waiting for the light to change. It was surprisingly nice just being with Dante, at once exciting and comfortable. The “walk” light flashed and Dante placed his hand beneath my elbow as we crossed the street. I could feel the warmth of his fingers through the sleeve of my coat. He helped me onto the curb and then slipped his hand back into his pocket.

“Here are the rules,” he said suddenly, sliding a crooked half-smile my way. “The getting-to-know-Abby rules.”

I grinned at him in anticipation.

“We’re three blocks away from home. I’ll ask you a question at the start of each block and you have until the next block to answer.”

“These are pretty long blocks,” I observed.

“I have some pretty good questions. Ready?”

“Is that your first question?”

“No, my first question is this: What do you think the future holds for you?”

“That
is
a good question.” I rocked back on the heels of my boots, knocking my toes together, thinking. I wondered how much hedging Dante would let me get away with. Probably not much. He was a stickler for the truth.

“No stalling,” Dante said, slipping his hand underneath my elbow again, turning me in the direction of the sidewalk. He gave me a gentle push. “Answer.”

“My future, huh?” I stumbled into a fairly brisk walk. “You sound like a college application.”

“Are you going to college?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Is that your second question?”

“Follow-up questions don’t count. Neither do questions that clarify, support, or expand on the original question.”

“Man, there are a lot of rules to this game.”

“
Life
has a lot of rules,” he said ruefully.

“Don’t I know it,” I nodded in agreement. “That’s why I think there will be some rule-breaking in my future.”

“How so?” Catching the look I threw him, he quickly added, “Clarification.”

“Yes, I’m going to college. No, I’m not going where anyone expects me to. At least I
hope
I’m going somewhere unexpected.” My steps slowed; Dante matched his pace to mine. “I sent in an application for Emery College ages ago and I haven’t heard back from them yet. The Web site said it could take six to eight weeks to process the application and I know it’s only been five, but . . .”

“But you’re still checking the mail every day?” Dante suggested.

I felt a faint blush in my cheeks and nodded. “It’s hard to wait for something you really want, you know?”

Dante regarded me with clear eyes for a moment before echoing my words back to me: “Don’t I know it.”

“What are
you
waiting for?” I asked, hoping to surprise him into answering one of my questions. I should have known better.

“What’s so special about Emery College?”

So I told him what I’d learned about it from the brochure and the Web site. I told him how much I wanted to go someplace new, someplace where
I
was new. At Emery, no one would know me or my past. It would be a fresh start, a clean slate. It would be a chance to branch out in new directions without any of my old baggage weighing me down. It would be like being reborn.

“There are no expectations of me at Emery,” I said. “Emery’s motto is ‘Live without Limits,’ you know, and I want that so bad. I’ve grown up in this little town and sometimes I feel like there are limits everywhere I turn. I feel like there’s this preset path all laid out for me and all this pressure to walk from point A to point B without any detours or places to stop to enjoy the scenery.” I blew a sigh through my teeth. “So I’m doing what everyone
expects
of me—good grades, extracurricular activities, the works—but someday . . . someday I’ll do something
unexpected.
” I surprised myself with the fierceness in my voice.

“I believe you will, Abby,” Dante said. “I hope I’m there to see it.”

“Thanks,” I said. I laughed under my breath. “You know, you’re the only person I’ve told that I’ve even applied to Emery. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“I’m good at keeping secrets.” Dante flipped up the collar of his coat, tucking his chin behind the fabric as the winter wind picked up its pace.

“Thanks,” I said again. Glancing up I saw the familiar two-story building of the Dungeon a few yards away. “Hey, we’re here. What about the other questions?”

Dante’s mischievous smile appeared. “I guess I’ll have to ask them another time.”

I liked the promise inherent in his words and felt warmth bubble through my veins; I was already looking forward to the next time.

We stopped outside the side door, hesitating, both of us wanting to continue the conversation, both of us waiting for the other person to say something.

“Do you want—?” he started.

“I should—” I said at the same time.

Dante brushed the snow from his hair. “Please. You first.”

“Oh, I was just going to say I should be getting home.” I didn’t want to, though. I wanted to stay with Dante, even if it meant standing in the snow and cold for another hour.

“Come inside for something warm to drink first,” he suggested, opening the door behind him. “I’ll ask Leo to drive you home afterward.”

The warm air wafted out, enveloping me. I hadn’t realized how cold I was. I slipped into the Dungeon without any more encouragement.

“Can’t you drive me home?”

Dante shook his head. “Leo has revoked my driving privileges for the moment.”

“Bummer.”

Dante smiled wryly, then helped me off with my coat, laying it on the bar top.

I sat on one of the stools at the bar, touched by Dante’s old-fashioned courtesy.

He took his coat off as well as he hopped lightly up the one step behind the bar. He looked at me expectantly. “What would you like?”

I ruthlessly squashed the blush rising in my face. Now was
not
the time for total honesty. I grinned instead. “Some- thing . . . unexpected.”

“As you wish.” Dante’s hand hovered over the rows of glittering bottles behind the bar. When he struck, it was swift and sure. Turning around to face me, I saw he had chosen a small box with worn and bent corners. I could make out the picture of a sun rising over a beautiful green pasture dotted with roses and guessed that the faded yellow Italian words that marched along the bottom of the box promised some kind of summer-warm tea inside. Just the thing for a cold winter’s day.

Dante flipped a white ceramic mug up onto the counter and filled it with hot water. From the box, Dante withdrew a single packet, wrapped in a delicate web of white netting. “You’re expecting this to be tea, aren’t you?”

I nodded.

“But you asked for something unexpected, didn’t you?”

I nodded again.

“Then watch closely.” Dante dropped the packet into the mug and placed his hand over the top. Steam rose from between his fingers. When he removed his hand from the mug, the delicate scent of roses filled the air. He slid the drink to me.

I wrapped my hands around the mug, feeling the heat from the drink warm my frozen fingers. Inhaling the steam, I could smell lilacs along with the roses. I lifted the mug and took a small sip. “It’s chocolate!”

Dante leaned over the bar, resting his weight on his elbows. “I told you it would be something unexpected.”

“But . . . how . . . ?” I took another swallow of the delicious, deceptive liquid. It should have been tea. It looked like it. It smelled like it. But it wasn’t. The rich chocolate flavor filled my mouth.

“It’s an old family secret—”

“And you can keep a secret,” I finished. “I know.” A gentle heat flooded through me with every swallow of Dante’s drink. “Can you at least tell me what you call it?”

Dante shook his head.

“Figures. Mmmm, this is way better than Leo’s Midnight Kiss.”

“Leo made you a Midnight Kiss?”

“Mm-hmm. He said he mixed a wish into it for me. Why? Doesn’t he make them for everyone?”

“No. No, Leo hasn’t made that drink in a long time.” Dante flashed a smile at me. “He must like you.”

“I bet you make
this
drink for everyone, though, right?”

“No,” he said softly and his voice sent chills chasing the waves of warmth along my skin. “No, I haven’t made this drink for anyone in a long time either.”

“Does that mean you like me?” I asked lightly, teasingly, but my heart pounded hard in anticipation of his answer.

It seemed like Dante looked at me for a long time before he pushed himself away from the bar, tugging at his gloves. He cleared his throat. “I need to talk to Leo about something. Then I’ll see you home.”

Dante pushed through the door behind the bar and I mentally cursed my clumsiness. Valerie made flirting look so easy; she should have warned me how disastrous it could be in the wrong hands. At least he hadn’t said no. That was something. But his mood certainly had shifted. One minute he was smiling and happy. The next minute he was withdrawn and cold. What was he thinking?

“Dante,” I heard Leo say in surprise. “I wasn’t expecting you until later. How was school today?”

Glancing up from my musings, I noticed the door had swung closed, but the latch hadn’t caught. With the Dungeon empty, I could hear the conversation in the back room even though I tried not to.

“Things are worse than we thought.”

Leo sighed. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

“The whole school is still suffering from the emotional hangover. It could be another two, maybe three days before people are back to normal. I’m sorry, Leo. Zo was unhappy with my interference and unleashed it on the crowd. It’s my fault as much as anyone’s.”

Emotional hangover.
It was an apt description. I’d thought I had been the only one suffering, but now that Dante mentioned it, there had been a general miasma of misery hanging about the school ever since Valentine’s Day. Plus, according to Natalie, the breakup rate had been unusually high lately. And somehow it was Zo’s fault. Maybe my hunch about Zero Hour was right after all.

“Three more days?” Leo sounded shaken. He sat down heavily, a chair creaking under his weight. “And everyone was affected?”

“No, not everyone,” Dante said. “Most of the teachers are fine, though they are struggling to maintain order in class. And the people who didn’t attend the dance are fine. Abby’s fine, thankfully.”

My ears pricked up at the sound of my name. I knew I shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but I couldn’t help it.

“You took a risk with her—”

“What was I supposed to do, Leo? I couldn’t let her go back to the dance until it was over.” I heard Dante pacing across the floor. “I needed her to stay with me.”

“I know,
figlio,
I know. I’m grateful she was there to help. I’m just sorry she’s involved.”

Involved? What was I involved in? Was Leo saying that I
shouldn’t
have helped Dante at the dance?