The Edge of Autumn Read online

  Her smile evaporated. “I know you think you're joking, but being friends with me isn't going to win you many fans around here,” she said soberly.

  It took every ounce of strength to resist reaching out and touching her in that moment, but I had resolved to take things slowly and forced myself to hold to that. Instead, I tilted my head to study her. “Beautiful. Friendly. Intelligent. A bit bossy.” She snickered. “Good taste in music, books, and movies. I'm pretty sure your good points outweigh the bad.”

  Sara couldn't hold back a smile but she shook her head. “If you become a social pariah because you're friends with me, don't say I didn't warn you.”

  I winked. “That sounds like the best offer I've had all day.”

  CHAPTER 7: Saturday Afternoon

  I stayed at the bookstore all afternoon. I'd never met anyone who was so easy to talk to, male or female. I had thought that I was fairly well-adjusted despite the constant cross-country moves, but getting to know Sara made me feel like I'd been adrift my whole life, as if I were only now learning what it meant to have an anchor.

  We talked about anything and everything—the places I'd lived, the places she longed to visit, the colleges we were considering (she even had some suggestions for me to look into), the various things about our parents that we loved and the things in life we wished we could change. Sara's mom had become (understandably) a little overprotective after her husband's accident and though Sara had her license and enough money saved up for a car, she wouldn't let her buy one until she turned eighteen in February. Sara sheepishly admitted that of all the “problems” one might have with one's parents, she was inordinately lucky that she and her mom had such a great relationship. I expressed how much I appreciated the freedom my parents had always allowed me, including letting me borrow my mom's car whenever she didn't need it, but I confided that it could be pretty lonely sometimes. Somehow, I couldn’t imagine myself ever feeling lonely again as I soaked in the warmth of Sara’s presence.

  I hung back while she cheerfully assisted a pair of older women who came in just before five o'clock to buy the latest book in a hit series, smiling politely when they tittered and clucked over the pair of us. Sara rolled her eyes after the front door was safely shut again and set about closing the store for the afternoon. “Small towns,” she muttered. “I hope you realize everyone in Oakville is going to think we're dating now.”

  I tried to look concerned. “That'd be terrible,” I said solemnly. She threw her empty root beer bottle at me and I caught it, laughing. “Maybe we'd better just make it official and go on a date,” I ventured bravely, anxiety flooding my body as I waited for a response.

  She looked at me closely, trying to determine if I was joking or not. I wasn't. “You want to go on a date?” she asked slowly, as though unable to fathom such a thing.

  “Not if you don't want to,” I said, finally allowing myself to reach out and brush her cheek with my finger. Her skin was incredibly soft and I traced the blush that highlighted her cheekbone. “But yes. Sara Matthews, would you like to go on a date with me?” I asked formally, lowering my hand with great reluctance.

  She bit her lip for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, Travis Holmes. I think I would.”

  A triumphant grin split my face. “How about tomorrow? The store is closed, right?” I asked, wishing I hadn't promised to meet Nelson tonight.

  “Yes and yes,” she answered with a smile. I suddenly realized that my knowledge of date-worthy places in this town was virtually nonexistent, but Sara jumped to the rescue. “I know just the place,” she said, eyes shining with excitement. She scribbled down her address on a scrap of paper and handed it to me. “Meet me at my house at ten?”

  I nodded, still grinning like a fool. “Absolutely.” She gathered up her things and slung her backpack over her slim shoulders. “Do we need a car? I don't think my mom has plans tomorrow.”

  She grinned back. “Yeah, if you can swing it, that would be great.”

  Looking at my watch, I grimaced. “Unfortunately, I'm meeting Nelson at six tonight,” I said regretfully, not wanting the afternoon to end. “Do you want to grab some dinner with us?”

  Her eyes shot wide and she shook her head adamantly. “No! I mean, thank you for the offer, but that sounds just a little too awkward for my taste at the moment,” she responded. “But tell him I said hey, will you?”

  Surprised at this step toward reconnection, I nodded. “Of course,” I said gently, realizing this would be a huge thing for both of them. We walked out of the shop together and she gave me one last brilliant smile before we said goodbye and headed in opposite directions down the street.

  “Travis!” she called suddenly and I turned back. “Bring your camera tomorrow!” She spun around and skipped away before I could respond, leaving me baffled.

  CHAPTER 8: Saturday Night

  Nelson texted me just before six that he would stop and pick up some pizza before coming over to my house. I spent a few minutes chatting with my mom about the most inconsequential things I could think of, hoping to avoid the “I have a date tomorrow” declaration. She said she and Dad were going out to eat (she was too exhausted from her painting binge and he'd be home too late to cook), but she promised to stay out of our way. Nelson had woven some kind of spell over both of my parents; they adored him. He had that chameleon knack for charming parents without schmoozing, adapting to whatever would best fit their tastes.

  When he arrived, I took the pizza to the table while my mom fawned all over him. I wondered what she would think of Sara—I couldn't imagine anyone not liking Sara, but she made it sound like everyone in town hated her guts. My dad rushed in, setting his camera equipment bags down in the front hall as he greeted my mother, Nelson, and then me. I told them to have a good time and ushered them out the door, all the while debating whether I should try to pry more information from Nelson or if it'd be better to ask Sara directly tomorrow.

  I returned to the kitchen to find Nelson shoving half a slice into his mouth. “Spill,” he commanded the second he finished chewing.

  “We have a date tomorrow,” I said calmly, helping myself to a slice.

  He coughed so hard I thought I might have to do the Heimlich on him. “You . . . Sara . . . an actual date?” he sputtered. “How the hell did you manage that?”

  I shrugged. “I asked her if she wanted to go out with me and she said yes,” I answered, keeping it simple.

  Nelson set down the remainder of his pizza and stared at me. “And she said yes, easy as pie?” he demanded. I hadn't known him long, but if a subject commanded Nelson to set aside his food, I knew it meant he was taking it seriously.

  “She also said to tell you she said 'hey,'” I added.

  His eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “Radio silence for over two years and she sends a 'hey' through you? Am I in the freaking Twilight Zone or what?”

  I shrugged and figured I might as well try to learn a little more, even though I'd pretty much decided to just ask Sara. “Did you ever try to talk to her after the accident?” I asked, watching his face for a reaction.

  A bitter laugh and a humorless smile were the response. “I tried, hell yes. She could barely look me in the eye, never mind speak to me. I know it's not the same but dammit, I lost a father that day too!” he exploded. I flinched at the pain in his voice and watched as he rubbed his hands over his face. “I'm sorry, man,” he said finally.

  I shook my head. “No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't pry. We don't have to talk about it,” I replied.

  Nelson raised his head and gave me a funny look. “It kind of feels like we do, Trav. Sara obviously saw it in the cards too—you're the bridge, man. Neither one of us would turn you into the tug-of-war rope.” He snorted. “To be honest, I'm glad she didn't decide to be a martyr and send you packing to save you from getting stuck in the middle. She must really dig you if she's willing to throw up a white flag.”

  I let that digest a minute, realizing that Sara was infinitely more clever
than I'd even suspected. Maybe it had all happened on a subconscious level, but Nelson was absolutely right; instead of shutting me out, she'd opened herself up to whatever it was she'd been so afraid of for the past two years. It might bring down a shitstorm over all three of us, it seemed, but at least she was initiating an end to her solitude. Nelson had made due, as evidenced by his moderate popularity at school, but I was fairly certain I was the first person to get close to him again after whatever had gone down back then.

  “So,” I said, taking a thoughtful bite of pizza. “What now?”

  He let out a slow breath. “So now you have a girlfriend, apparently.”

  I laughed. “I'm not sure she'd appreciate a label just yet.”

  With a wave of his hand, he dismissed that. “Well, word travels fast, as you've seen already. I've heard from a few acquaintances already asking about your little interlude with Jay Hallowell yesterday. I'm afraid an actual date is going to be seen as a declaration of war.”

  “War with who?” I asked, not understanding. “I mean, I get Jay is pissed that his brother got busted, but what does everyone else have against Sara? They were that upset that she didn't come back to school?”

  Nelson downed another slice of pizza, shaking his head. “The Hallowell family is like Oakville royalty. Teddy was—they both were—the richest, most popular kids at school, soccer stars, the whole shebang. Teddy had a full scholarship to Notre Dame. The accident was a huge scandal for the whole family. Jay, like you said, blamed Sara. I told you she hadn't liked him before that so I'm guessing there's more to that story, but he made it his mission that summer to turn everyone against Sara. I didn't socialize much that summer and he probably knew I wouldn't buy his bullshit, but by the time we started school that fall, everyone had forgotten how much they'd liked Sara and acted like the whole damn mess was her fault somehow,” he finished, disgusted. “Maybe she'll tell you what happened between her and Jay before that, because she sure as hell wouldn't tell me.”

  Somehow, it didn't matter what part of the country we were in; high school drama was unavoidable. This was the most twisted situation I'd encountered between the three high schools I'd attended, though, and I was finding myself increasingly outraged on Sara's behalf.

  “There must be something we can do,” I said.

  Nelson nodded, his mouth full again. I took that as a sign that he had calmed down a bit. “Now that Jay's in college, it shouldn't be too hard to convince people he was a lying asshole,” he mumbled. “Especially if Sara's willing to appear in public again.”

  I hesitated. “I don't want to put pressure on her,” I said. “I mean, she seems well-adjusted, but I get this sense every now and then that she might bolt if things go wrong, you know?”

  “I don't think you need to worry about that, man. She's literally barely spoken to anyone in two years and look how far you've gotten in just a few days. Trust me, she would have had no problem shooting you down point blank if she wasn't ready for this.” He gave me a critical look. “Though what the hell she sees in you, I don't know!”

  I laughed. “Thanks, Nelson.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, well. Whatever you're doing, it's working. I'd offer you some dating advice but given the level of success I've had in speaking to her since the accident, I think you're better off on your own.”

  We agreed that Nelson would start working on the kids at school and that I would attempt to talk about the situation with Sara tomorrow. I felt like I was walking along a precipice, torn between the attraction of having Sara all to myself in our own little world and wanting to surround her with peace and happiness, saving her from the dark solitude she'd endured.

  I could only hope that I wouldn't lose everything in the attempt.

  CHAPTER 9: Sunday

  Before heading to Sara's house, I put my camera and favorite lenses into a protective case and stared at my reflection one more time. Sara had given no indication that she didn't like what I'd been wearing, so today was another band tee but instead of my usual jeans, I put on a pair of khaki cargo pants. I then wondered if I should have stuck to jeans but mentally slapped myself upside the head. “Get it together,” I muttered under my breath.

  I took a deep, steadying breath and shouted a farewell to my parents, who were having coffee together in the kitchen, as I strode out the front door. Better to keep the conversation to a minimum this morning; my nerves were already shot.

  Sara didn't live far from me, just a couple blocks past the bookstore on a tiny dead-end road. This neighborhood didn't host as much activity as mine did; it seemed quieter and more subdued. The yards were bigger and the houses further apart, but there weren't any kids outside enjoying the morning sun. Sara's house was a pale blue Victorian at the end of the street, fronted by a garden that must have been her mom's pride and joy. An arched trellis led through a privacy hedge into the back yard.

  I parked in the driveway and left my camera case in the back seat of my mom's Buick as I headed up to the front door. God, I couldn't remember the last time I'd been this nervous, but I forced myself to ring the doorbell and reminded myself to breathe. From inside, I heard Sara yell, “I'm coming!” and a minute later, the door opened to dancing blue-green eyes and a brilliant smile. “Hi,” she said breathlessly.

  “Hi,” I repeated, trying to figure out how she could possibly grow more beautiful by the day.

  She peeked around me and her smile grew cheeky. “Nice ride.”

  I laughed, some of the nervous tension dissipating. “It gets the job done, I guess,” I replied with a grin.

  “You can come in,” she said, opening the door wider. “I just want to grab a couple water bottles for us, give me one second.”

  I followed her through the hallway to the kitchen, my eyes drawn to the photographs lining the walls, pictures of her throughout childhood, pictures of her with her family. She was the spitting image of her mother, but with red hair instead of her mother's chestnut locks. They had the same twinkling eyes, the same beautiful smile. My eyes drifted to a picture of the two of them standing knee deep in a creek, heads thrown back in laughter as a blonde man splashed water at them. Joy radiated from all three of them and I had to swallow hard past a lump in my throat. My own parents might be a little absent now and then, but I couldn't imagine one of them just being . . . gone.

  Sara appeared back at my side wearing a small backpack and followed my eyes to the photo. “My mom loves that one,” she said softly. “It was the last picture we had taken before the accident. At first she couldn't bear to look at it, but she couldn't bring herself to take it down, either. She would come down the stairs and walk through the dining room to get into the kitchen.”

  Silently, I took her hand and we stood together, lost in our thoughts. After a moment, she shook her head as though freeing herself from a spell and tugged me toward the door.

  “I've got water and snacks in my bag. Got your camera?” she asked.

  “Yup,” I said, attempting to keep my tone as light as possible. She shot me a sidelong glance that let me know I hadn't quite achieved it, but she said nothing more. I opened the passenger door for her and held it until she was in; a shy but satisfied smile danced across her lips and I shut the door for her before jogging around to my own. My dad always held doors and pulled out chairs for my mom and no matter how many times he'd done it before, it always made her smile just like that. I silently thanked him for teaching me the art of chivalry as I started the car.

  “So, where to?” I asked.

  “Head back up the street and take a right,” she said as she buckled her seatbelt. She directed me until we reached a small road leading into the forested hills north of town. The trees were alight with the rich hues of autumn. “There'll be a small wooden sign on the side of the road, about another mile up. Turn left there.”

  I did as she instructed, turning into a tiny dirt parking lot that was nearly hidden from view by the trees. I parked the car and looked questioningly at her. The grin that li
t her face held an element of mischief. “Ready for some fun?” she asked.

  “I sure hope so,” I replied, grabbing my camera bag and slinging it across my chest as we got out of the car. I walked over to where she was adjusting her backpack. “Are there bears in these woods? Or mountain lions?”

  She laughed and laid her hand against my cheek. “I'll protect you,” she vowed, her eyes dancing.

  I gave a solemn nod, feeling my skin flush beneath her hand. “Thank you.”

  With another beautiful smile on her face, she took my hand and tugged me along a small path between the trees lining the parking lot. “C'mon, if you don't lollygag all morning, we'll catch the light just right,” she said.

  My curiosity piqued, I followed docilely behind her as the path narrowed, admiring the view as she walked. Today she wore snug black leggings and an oversized burgundy sweatshirt with “NYU” emblazoned across the front. She placed each foot carefully as the path faded into a barely distinguishable space littered with pine cones and fallen branches, but her hips moved with an assurance that sent a bolt of heat through me. I averted my eyes and took several deep breaths, silently sending up a prayer of thanks when the path opened up enough to allow me to walk next to instead of behind her.

  After another few minutes, we hit a clearing and I stopped in my tracks. Several yards away was the creek from the photo in Sara's house, morning sunlight dancing across the slow-moving surface like jewels in a treasure chest. My breath caught in my throat as I thought about the implications of her bringing me here; Christ, this must be painful for her. I took her hand and felt a tremor run through her.

  “Sara . . .” I said softly, trailing off as appropriately meaningful words failed to appear.

  She squeezed my hand. “This was—still is—my favorite place in the world,” she murmured. “After he died, I came here all the time. It's the only place I can still feel him, you know?”