Ashlyn's Radio (13 page)

“Maybe they leave it on for you,” Caden suggested.

Rachel snorted. “Yeah. Let’s go with that.”

Ashlyn chewed her lip as they covered the stretch to Rachel’s driveway. The house, a sizeable story and a half with white painted siding and black trim, looked like most of the other houses in Podunk. It could have been 40 years old or 140, for all Ashlyn could tell. But where other houses had something of a mown lawn (or
yard
, as they called them), the grass around Rachel’s house looked more like a hay field, complete with clumps of brush. Or so it appeared in the moonlight. The overgrown vegetation made the otherwise ordinary looking house seem ominous. Or maybe it was just the memory of those bruises on Rachel’s throat.

“Rachel, are you going to be all right?” she asked anxiously.

“Absolutely.”

“I could go in,” Caden offered.

“Oh,
God, no
,” Rachel said. “That would not make my life any easier. But as it happens, I don’t need a knight in shining amour — or a pair of them — tonight. My dad’s car’s gone.”

Ashlyn blinked. “I thought no one went out at night?”

“He went out after supper. Darkness must have caught up with him. He’ll stay wherever he is, which I imagine is the local bootlegger’s.”

“What about your mother? Is she home?” Ashlyn asked. “Will she hear you go in? Be upset?”

Rachel laughed again, but this time it had an ugly edge.

“What’s so funny?” Caden asked.

“My mother hasn’t left the house in years.”

Instantly, a What’s-Eating-Gilbert-Grape picture blossomed in Ashlyn’s mind, a vivid image of a woman too morbidly obese to get out of bed. “Is she … disabled?”

“Agoraphobia.”

The Gilbert Grape picture evaporated, replaced by an image of a teacher Rachel had had in middle school. She’d had to leave her job because of agoraphobia. Ashlyn had Googled the word, then wished she hadn’t. She hated to think about Miss McCullers suffering such extreme anxiety. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to feel as though your life was careening out of control the minute you stepped outside your home. To start off to work or the grocery store or the mall, only to have to turn back to ward off a panic attack. It had seemed like the worst kind of house arrest.

“Bummer,” she murmured, but her mind was racing. If Rachel’s mother was home all the time, she couldn’t help but know about the abuse Rachel was suffering. Could her anxiety disorder prevent her from helping her daughter? Was it keeping her locked not just in her house but also in dependency? Or was her mother the abuser?

“Thanks.” Rachel pulled away. “I’m going in now. Safe trip back, and see you on Monday, ’kay?”

“We’ll just wait until you’re inside.” Caden said, his eyes scanning the house. “Can you signal us from a window?”

“It’s okay, guys. Really.”

“Then it’ll only take you a minute to get in and give us a signal.”

“Stubborn,” Rachel muttered, but her tone lacked any real heat. “Okay, keep your eyes fixed on that gable window in front. That’s my bedroom. I’ll turn on the light and give you a wave.”

“Perfect.”

A minute later, the light went on as promised. But instead of giving them a wave, Rachel stood in front of the window, put her thumbs to her head and waggled her outstretched fingers.

Ashlyn snorted. “Did she just give us
moose antlers
?”

Caden grinned. “She did.”

Rachel stepped back from the window and the light went out again.

“Guess that’s our exit cue.” Caden looked down at Ashlyn. “How’s the knee?”

“Same. Maybe a little stiffer, but not bad.”

“You didn’t really need Rachel’s help, did you?” he asked as they moved out the driveway, his arm again firmly around her.

“Not really.”

“You’re a good person, Ashlyn Caverhill.”

Ashlyn could think of a lot of kids back home who’d dispute that. Not that she was one of the mean girls. No amount of peer pressure would jam her into that particular mold. But she’d cultivated a certain reputation, mainly to persuade those gossiping, backbiting, manipulative trolls to look elsewhere for a vulnerable target. It had worked, too. Maybe too well.

“I don’t know about that. She just seemed like she needed a hug, even if it had to be of the stealth variety.”

“I’m worried about her,” Caden said. They’d started back down the road again. “Cutting is one thing —
a deeply disturbing thing
— but those bruises….”

“Wait a minute.” Ashlyn’s steps slowed. “You knew? About the self-harm, I mean?”

“Seemed like the most likely explanation. That or frequently being at the receiving end of someone else’s violence. But if it were the latter, it generally takes more than long sleeves to hide that kind of abuse.”

“But obviously she’s getting some of that, too.”

“Yeah. The bruise on her face earlier in the week, and now this….”

Ashlyn chewed her lip. “We should call the cops.”

“I don’t know,” Caden said. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned since moving here, Prescott Junction isn’t the same as the rest of the world.”

“You mean like a country versus city thing?”

“Yeah, but it’s more than that. The secrets here….” Caden’s arm tightened around her. “They don’t give them up easily. They don’t like outsiders poking around. I’m thinking the Sheriff’s Office wouldn’t look too fondly on allegations made by the two newest residents. And with me being a professor's son and home schooled, and you being—”

“A crazy Caverhill?”

“—Canadian. After all, you’re next door to being a Commie, aren’t you, with all that socialized healthcare up there? But hey, if the shoe fits….”

She dug him in the ribs with an elbow and he half grunted, half laughed.

“Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”

They walked in silence a moment. “Maybe I could get Maudette to do it? She likes Rachel.”

“Here’s an idea. Maybe we should work on Rachel, get her to file a complaint herself. It’s going to come down to her testimony in the end anyway, right?”

Ashlyn frowned. “Yeah, but how likely is that? She won’t even talk about it with us, let alone go to the police to make a formal complaint. And even if she did go to the cops, or if
we
did, what would life be like for her? Obviously her mother doesn’t work. If her dad goes to jail, who pays the bills?”

“You think she prefers dodging her father’s fists to welfare?” Caden suggested.

“Or maybe she’s putting her mother’s welfare over her own.”

“Well, one thing’s clear,” he said. “We have to get her to talk about it. What happened tonight….”

“I know.” Ashlyn grimaced. “I mean, I felt the power of the conductor’s appeal too, but it wasn’t so strong that I felt like I absolutely had to obey it. But if I try to put myself in her shoes, when I imagine the despair she must struggle with constantly. If I were in that frame of mind, that little tug I felt might have been a helluva lot stronger.”

“Exactly.”

“Did you feel it?”

“No.” His answer came immediately. “Maybe I was too focused on you guys. Or maybe it’s because he really didn’t look at me. Not full in the face like he did you two. Maybe he has to focus on a person to work his mojo on them.”

Oh, man! If that was the case, how much stronger would the conductor’s pull have been if he were focused exclusively on her instead of mostly on Rachel? Maybe she wasn’t as invulnerable as she’d like to think. And what would have happened to Rachel if she and Caden hadn’t been there?

“Okay, decision time.”

Caden’s words jerked her out of that scary train of thought. Unfortunately, they didn’t make much sense. “Huh?”

He drew them to a stop. “So what do you think? Stick to the road all the way, or back through the woods? It’s probably about twenty minutes’ difference.”

Ah, right. They stood just by the train station. They could continue on via the road, or cross the tracks and the train bridge and take the woods path again from that spot by the river. Ashlyn hesitated. There was fear of the tracks to be sure, but her knee was protesting louder with every step she took. It was just a short ways down the tracks….

“Woods, please.”

“Good answer,” he said, then bent down into a crouch. “Okay, hop on my back.”

His back?
Much as she liked being close to him, the idea was … a little too much. Plus she was no Nicole Ritchie. He’d be huffing and puffing and staggering before he’d gone a hundred yards.

“It’s okay. I can manage the path like this, if you keep your arm around me.”

“Nuh-uh. The terrain’s too rough,” he said. “All you need is to catch a toe in a root or stumble on a rock and that injured knee becomes a surgical case,” he pronounced, handing her the small flashlight he’d pulled from the pocket of his hoodie. “It’s piggyback or we take the road. Or maybe you’d prefer fireman’s lift?”

Ashlyn gripped the flashlight tighter as her mind played a clip of her butt stuck up in the air, practically in his face, with him gripping her thighs, her upper body draped down his back.

“Okay, have it your way, Dudley Do-Right. I’ll ride piggyback. Hold still.”  She climbed awkwardly onto his back, looping her arms around his neck.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready.”

“Then give me some light.”

Whoops. She flipped on the flashlight and swept it along the roadway until she found the path. As soon as she locked on, he came to his feet easily. She silently thanked him for not groaning or lurching or otherwise implying that she was too heavy.

“Caden?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want to talk anymore about that stuff tonight. That okay with you?”

“Suits me,” he said. “I’m going to need my wind.”

“Need your—” She tightened an arm around his neck, hopefully cutting off that air supply he so desperately needed. “Put me down then if I’m so heavy, you … creep.”

His laughter bounced back at her in the closeness of the forest path.

“Relax. I’m teasing. I’ve carried
groceries
that were heavier than you.”

Groceries?  “Okay, you’re forgiven.”

In truth, he didn’t seem to labor terribly hard. Certainly his progress was slower, more deliberate, and his breath definitely came harder, but there was no puffing and staggering. The boy wasn’t just strong, but fit. The evidence was all around her. Or rather, she was wrapped around it. Him. She was acutely conscious of the warmth of his back and the grip of his hands on her thighs. Pleasant as that was, she was glad when they emerged from the woods and into the moonlit field across from her grandmother’s house. Caden might be strong, but she didn’t want to be anybody’s burden.

“You can put me down now.”

“I’ll put you down when we get to the road. The terrain is still uneven. But you can turn that flashlight off. No need to draw attention to ourselves when we have such good visibility.”

She clicked the light off. “Anyone ever tell you you’re bossy?”

“No. Usually they say,
Good idea, Caden
, or
Omigod, you’re so right!
”

She rolled her eyes. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a smartass?”

She felt his soft laugh. “Occasionally.”

True to his word, he deposited her on her feet the moment they climbed up the ditch and onto the road, almost directly opposite Maudette’s dark house. Ashlyn flexed her legs to get the blood flowing again, as they both regarded the house.

“How you gonna get back in?” he asked, his voice low to avoid alerting the dogs. “I trust you’re not going to try to get up to the bedroom window again?”

“Nah. None of the windows have locks, so I can take my pick. I just need to find one that isn’t painted shut and doesn’t lead into Maudette’s bedroom and I’m cool.”

He nodded. “I can keep the dogs quiet for you while you do it.”

She nodded, but her mind had moved on, thinking what a difference a few hours made. She’d left here expecting to spend a chunk of the beautiful moonlit night laughing and talking with Caden and Rachel, and when nothing happened, she’d creep back to bed and fall asleep with a smile on her face. But something
had
happened.

“Hey, you’re thinking about it again, aren’t you? I thought you weren’t going to do that anymore tonight.”

“No, I said I didn’t want to
talk
about it anymore. But I can’t stop thinking about it.”

There were a few seconds of silence — okay, not silence, since the night practically vibrated with the chorusing of katydids and frogs — but both of them held their breath. Then Caden spoke.

“Maybe this will help.”

Before his head even started to lower, she knew he was going to kiss her. He did nothing to hide it. In fact, he totally telegraphed it, giving her plenty of time to dodge if she wanted to. She knew it was coming, but still, when he cupped her face with his hand, it sent a jolt through her and drew a gasp. She thought she saw his lips turn up in a smile, but his face was too close, too out of focus to be certain. Then his lips were on hers.

And oh, man, building anticipation wasn’t all the boy did well. His touch was easy, his lips relaxed and positively luscious, sliding moistly over hers. And none of the
too much, too soon
stuff most guys tried. No groping hands, so sloppy wet tongues where tongues had not yet been invited to go. Just a perfect, unhurried, sweet exploration.

As their lips pressed and clung, Ashlyn tried to soak up every nuance — the smell of his skin, the feel of one hand on her face while the other rested lightly on her waist, the taste of his lips, the feel of his warm breath. She stored these details up to take out later when she needed the distraction. When he lifted his head a minute later, she had plenty of material to keep her mind occupied.

“So, did it help?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

“Definitely.” But her happiness dimmed as a thought occurred to her. Had he kissed her just because he knew she needed it? She drew back slightly. “You’re a good person, Caden Williams.”

At hearing his own words echoed back to him, he laughed. “Girl, if you’re thinking that I did that purely out of the kindness of my heart, I must have done something wrong. Let’s try that again.”