Crimson Echo (17 page)

“Tristan, she could see the bigger picture.” He held my face between the palms of his hands and stared me in the eyes intently. “I think she saw a lot more than she ever let on. She probably
already knew how our entire lives play out.”

“You always know exactly what to say.” I sniffled and he leaned forward, resting his lips on my forehead.

“I wish I could take your pain away. I would gladly carry that burden for you.” He whispered in my ear as his cheek rubbed against mine. “I don’t like to see you sad.”

            His
warm breath trickled down my neck and made the hair at the base of my nape stand up. He still held my face in his hands. He sighed as his face inched closer and the smell of baby’s breath swirled around me— it was sweet and left me gasping for more.

            Kane
leaned in gently, closer and his eyes closed. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized how badly I wanted him to kiss me. Each second dragged on brutally like we were in slow motion. My heart began to beat uncontrollably as the warmth from his lips became tangible.

            I reached up, grabbing the back of his neck and pulled him closer. The ache for his lips to touch mine was almost unbearable. He pulled my hand away and held me still as his face lingered centimeters in front of me. 
His eyes looked tortured, his breathing increased and his body radiated heat like an open flame. I leaned in again to kiss him and his lips barely brushed mine as he turned his face and rested it in the hollow of my shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I can’t.” His voice was angry.

“Is it me?” I asked, painfully aware that my ego had just been bruised.

“
It’s not you, I promise. I just can’t take advantage of you when you’re in this condition.”

“But
I want you to… kiss me.” I locked our fingers together.

“I’ll kiss you when you’re not so
… vulnerable.”

            We walked along the sh
ore line hand-in-hand and made small talk for a while. We attempted to make out shapes in the night sky and he continued to hurl the questions at me like an interrogation. I chased a dozen frogs back into the water as Kane rolled his eyes at me and laughed under his breath. 

            Moments later
I looked over and he was skipping rocks across the silky smooth water causing ripples and waves to disturb the peace. Eventually he laid the red, plaid blanket in a clear spot in the sand and sat back on his elbows and watched me.

“Tristan,
you should probably get some rest.” He murmured, tapping the space beside him.

          
I agreed and took up residence next to him on the plaid blanket near the shoreline of Lake Umatilla. I laid my head against his chest and closed my eyes. The rhythm of his heartbeat calmed the anxiety that was threatening to boil over inside of me, but only momentarily.

           
His quick, agile hand combed through my hair at the middle of my back and out of nowhere, with absolutely no warning, I started to cry. And then I realized as I stared out at the motionless water why I was crying. Faith and I had spent many summers here over the years and now she was gone in the blink of an eye.

            Kane never hushed me or tried to stop me from crying. He believed it was healthier than keeping it all bottled up inside.
Silently, patiently, he sat with me— holding me as I sobbed into his chest. I worried that in the night air I would get a chill, but Kane as usual radiated heat and pulled me closer as the air swirled around us. After a while my sobs grew quieter and I relaxed into his side, thoroughly exhausted, I let myself go to sleep.

Before I had completely fallen asleep, I heard Kane whisper very lightly. “
Sleep well my angel.”

                                                     
   Chapter Seven

                                                        
Tell Tale Signs

            Looking around a dark, deserted room, I knew exactly where I was. My feet dragged noisily across th
e concrete floor and the flapping of pigeon’s wings fluttered somewhere up above. I followed a narrow staircase up to the next floor and examined the room— everything was exactly the way I remembered it.

         
A dozen propane tanks sat against the far wall and the light shined through the cracks in the boarded up windows. I looked around and panicked as I remembered what came next. Smoke began to trickle in from underneath the door like it had so many times before.

            I ran to the door, but it was locked. I hated this part. I coughed as more waves of gray smoke filtered into the room, but tonight was different— it wasn’t playing out like it usually did. I held my breath and waited for the
darkness to take me, but it never did. This was the part where I was supposed to be out cold. Instead the door flung open and appearing like a masked super hero from a comic book there stood a black figure with a rolling fog all around him.

            The man stood there in the doorway for a moment assessing the situation and then sprung into action.
He bolted toward the propane tanks and hurled one out of the window with great strength and speed. The boards on the windows cracked under the pressure and smoke began to escape. As he slowed to a more reasonable pace I recognized the man. He was a welcomed change to my nightmare. He swept me up off of the floor and jumped from the third story window.

            His landing was impeccable and I hardly even felt jostled as we made contact with th
e ground. He stared at me for an intense minute and then sat me down on the ground. His black leather jacket was badly charred and his hair was in horrible disarray. Not once did he say a word. He only looked at me puzzled, like I had just been beamed down from outer space. He raised his fist to the air and launched himself into the sky, leaving me lying in the grass. Only minutes later the building erupted in flames with a loud boom, causing me to lurch upright in my bed.       

           
When I awoke in the morning it took me a minute to figure out where I was. The sun was shining, but it wasn’t directly overhead like I had expected and the ground was surprisingly soft. I blinked a few times to focus and it was immediately clear that I was no longer at the lake, but in my bed. The white Victorian dress that I wore to the dance now hung on the back of my bedroom door and clasped around my neck was my necklace with the moon pendant attached.

            On the pillow beside me, placed perfectly in the center was a white envelope. My name was elaborately written in some sort of old form of calligraphy and on the back sealed with red wax was a stamp sealing it together. The note read:

My dearest Tristan,

I apologize for leaving you like this, but I had matters to attend to.

I hope you’re feeling much better today. When you wake up, I will be waiting.

Yours,

Kane

            I changed my clothes and brushed my teeth, giving no thought to my hair except to pull it up into a ponytail and rushed downstairs. The house was empty and I was thankful for that. Running around scatter-brained with dark circles
under my eyes would only hinder my chance at freedom.

           
I peeked out of the front window and true to his word, he was there. The black Range Rover was parked at the end of the drive way and Kane with a slight smile on his face was in the driver’s seat. I locked the door behind me and sprinted out to his car— I slowed myself halfway to him, I didn’t want to seem too eager.

            Lithe and swift, he danced around the Range Rover and met me at the passenger’s side door. He moved so quick, it took my eyes a second to catch up with him. He stood there, with his hand on the door handle and stared at me like he was mul
ling something over in his mind as he moved a strand of hair from my forehead and then smiled as if my being here made him the happiest person on the planet.

           
He was beautiful, God-like even, in his faded jeans, button up shirt and black bomber jacket. His midnight hair tousled just slightly to give it that unkempt look, when in all reality it probably took him hours.

“I missed you.” He sighed, pulling me into him. “How are you feeling today? You slept well I hope.”

“I’m feeling much better than I did yesterday, thank you.” I took in his cologne and hugged him tighter. As many times as I had smelled him before it never got old. I wasn’t completely sure it ever could.

“Excellent. Is there anything in particular you would like to do today?”
He planted a kiss, gently on my forehead

I thought about it for a long moment and then realized he had probably already planned it all out.

“Whatever you want to do is fine with me.” I murmured.

“Well let’s get to it then. Are you hungry?”

“Starved, you?” I felt my stomach growl.

“Oh, you are hungry, aren’t you?”
He asked, eyeing my stomach. “Let’s get you something to eat and then we’ll get to what I have planned for you.”

“What do you have planned?”

“You’ll see soon enough. Just be patient.” He smiled, knowing I hate surprises.

            We raced down the highway at a speed that was much too fast for me. My stomach felt like it was pressing against my spine as he hit the gas. Kane was completely at ease going over one hundred miles per hour, like he did this often— I on the other hand was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. His foot eased of the gas when he looked over and noticed my hands clenching the seat.

“Too fast?” He smirked.

“That’s better.” I released my death grip and began to relax.
“Can I ask you a question?”

“Fire away.” He said hesitantly.

“Why me?” My heart quickened as I asked the question. What a foolish thing to say when he was being so nice to me— it made me seem like I was being ungrateful.

“What do you mean? I’m not sure I understand the question.” He tilted his head and looked at me puzzled.

“I just don’t understand why you want to spend all this time with me when there are plenty of beautiful girls at school that are just dying for your attention.”

“There’s something different about you, I can’t quite put my finger on it. Maybe it’s because you’re not as shallow or the fact that you have far more brain cells than the whole lot of them.
But to be most honest with you, I simply enjoy, no… crave your company.”

I blushed at his honesty.

“It’s true you know. As much as I’ve tried to fight it, I really do care about you.” He smiled, staring at the road ahead.

“
Why would you try to fight it?” I grimaced, looking out of my window. I tried to keep my tone even. Did he think I was bad for him? That’s the only reason I could think of for trying to fight off his feelings. I didn’t see how I could be bad for him, unless he was afraid of what everyone at Emporia would say when he started dating a public school reject like me.

“I fought it because I felt there was a much greater path for you to follow, but alas, I
am a selfish fool.”

“I’m glad you decided to be selfish. I guess I’m no better than you.”

“We can be selfish together then.” He laughed. His mood was light and airy today, I was relieved.

            After a few more miles we reached a small section in the arts district of Portland.
Set away from the street on a corner lot was Le Bistro Fontaine. Four sets of empty tables and chairs lined the window outside of the bistro and on each table, placed in the center was a large bouquet of while lilies. Kane parked the car at the curb and got out and before I could get my seatbelt off he was opening my door.

“I hope this is okay. I thought a change of scenery would do us both some good.”

“It’s beautiful! I couldn’t have picked a better place.” I said enthusiastically, though I knew I would have never picked a place as exquisite as this. I began to realize that Kane had expensive taste and I suddenly started to worry that if he knew just how poor my family actually was he would drop me in an instant, but I let the troubles of today fade away and I would get to them tomorrow. 

            Kane escorted me to one of the outdoor tables and disappeared inside of the restaurant to order lunch for the both of us. As I waited for him to return I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of path he thought I should be traveling, instead of the one I was on. I traced a grouping of watermarks on the glass table as I continued to dissect the meaning behind his obscure answers.

            It always felt like he was talking in circles to hide what he really wanted to say. Then I had a thought that could possibly sum it all up, maybe he acted the way he does, because he’s afraid of getting close to someone and he still wasn’t sure if he could trust me. I had to show him that he could trust me. But how could I prove to him that I am sincere in my feelings?