Evie's Knight (16 page)

He grabbed one of the marbled pieces, looked over it appreciatively. “Evie, it’s great. Mine was nowhere near this nice.”

She shrugged. “Somebody had it listed online. I thought it was a long shot, but there it was. It was meant to be yours.”

He tore the wrapping from the chessboard–a cool slab of marble fastened to a dark oak frame. “This is awesome. Thank you.”

“Well, you know how you said the pepper spray was kind of for your sake as well as mine?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Well, this is kind of for me too.” She gave him a wry smile, judging his reaction. “See, I really need you to sharpen your skills, warm up at home so you can give me a little competition.” Unable to stifle the laughter, she braced herself as he lunged toward her.

Evie caved beneath Calvin’s weight as he wrestled her to the ground. With one large hand, he grabbed both wrists and pinned them above her head. “Take it back.” He dangled his hand over her body.

“No,” she said, through giggles still.

He wiggled his fingers as he brought the hovering hand closer, nearing the ticklish part of her armpit while she struggled to pull free.

“Say,
Calvin has been letting me win at chess.
Say it,” he urged.

“Calvin hates losing when he plays me at chess,” she shrieked.

He released her wrists and tickled her with both hands.

Evie gasped for air through laughter as the kneading tips of his fingers flittered over her stomach. His hands slid down to her legs where he squeezed at her upper thighs just above the knee. “You are ticklish everywhere.” His triumphant grin made him look younger, boyish.

She hollered and squirmed until he let up. “I know,” she admitted, trying to catch her breath. “I know.”

They were calm for a moment. Evie’s stomach ached from the laughter, and the sound of her panting breaths filled the air.

Calvin lay back on the rug, put his hands behind his head, and gave her a smug smile.

Before he could stop her, Evie lunged toward him, searching for ticklish spots, poking and prodding as he had. It took her a minute, but once she found his weakness–just under his ribs–she straddled him to gain dominance, reveling in the sweet revenge.

Just beyond the sound of their laughter, came the creaking of the back door. She and Calvin froze, turned their heads toward the stairwell. Evie looked wide-eyed at Calvin, feeling like she was eight years old again, about to get busted for roughhousing.

“Hey, Calvin?” It was her dad’s voice.

Now
he
looked like the guilty one.

“Your phone’s going off up here.”

Evie flung herself off Calvin as the stairs creaked.

Calvin scurried to his feet. “Thank you. I didn’t realize I’d left it up there.”

“It was actually on the back patio,” her dad said. “But it rang enough times that I was able to track it down. Anyway–” Before he could continue, the phone buzzed again. “Someone’s really trying to get hold of you.”

Calvin took the phone from him. “Thank you,” he said. He eyed the small screen before pulling it up to his ear.

Evie smiled at her dad. “Thanks for bringing that down.”

“You guys going to play chess?” He nodded toward the set.

“Yeah. Probably.” She didn’t want to be rude, but she was hoping her dad wouldn’t stick around to hear Calvin’s conversation. She could guess, by the urgency alone, that it was Parker calling with one of his weekend emergencies.

“I’ll be upstairs,” her dad said, turning toward the stairwell.

“Parker, just let me call you guys a cab so you can take off.” He paused, looking down at the floor. “No, I’m not coming out there.”

Within the last month, a frantic call from Parker had become a predictable part of their weekend, and Evie could see that it was wearing on Calvin. Usually the call came much later, closer to midnight when she and Calvin were saying goodnight. 

“That is not what you want, Parker. Listen, if it’s a ride you need, a cab can take care of that. Otherwise–” Calvin pulled the phone from his ear and muttered a curse under his breath. “He hung up.”

“Are you going to go?” She hated even asking.

With one tense hand, Calvin raked over his hair. “Parker always reels me in somehow. I hate it.” He checked the time. “What in the world is he doing? It’s not even ten yet.”

Evie ached from the amount of burden she saw in his eyes. In his posture even. She headed over to the couch and patted the cushion. “Here. Come relax.”

Calvin began to pace. “Parker is such a punk. I swear he’s going to get himself killed one day.”

“I’m sorry,” Evie said, wishing she could help. She circled her palm over the textured surface of the couch. “Want me to rub your back?”

It took him a while to acknowledge her question. He eyed the space next to her, glanced into her eyes, and gave her a weak smile. That familiar magnetic spark surged between them, causing a flash of heat to shoot through the center of her chest.

“Yes,” he said, “that’d be nice.”

As Evie smoothed her hands over Calvin’s tightened shoulders, she considered his dilemma with Parker. He had to put his foot down some time, refuse to play a part of his game, but she could feel the guilt and concern oozing off his rigid body. If Parker did manage to get himself killed, Calvin would probably blame himself forever.

“What usually happens when you go out there to pick him up?”

Calvin took a deep breath that made his back swell against her hands. In a long sigh, he exhaled, shaking his head. “Parker knows I don’t want him to drive drunk, so he takes advantage. Seems like every time I show up, he provokes someone on our way out the door, like he was waiting for me to get there so he could up his numbers.” Calvin shook his head. “A fight breaks out, sometimes the bouncers step in and show us to the door, other times I … try to stop things.”

“How?”

He looked at her over his shoulder, his brown eyes guarding a part of him she knew nothing about. “Different ways. I’ll fight if I have to, but I try to diffuse the situation instead. Usually by stepping in, apologizing for him, explaining that my brother is a sad alcoholic, who lost his mother.” He let out a humorless laugh. “Half the time it actually works.”

Evie slid off the couch, kneeling before him. “Well, it’s your call. You can get schooled in a game of chess by yours truly, or try to rescue that sad brother of yours while I go back to stressing over finals.”

Calvin’s eyes narrowed as he looked at her. “Forget about Parker. Let’s play.”

Chapter Eighteen

“Your nephews adore you, Evie,” Calvin said. 

Evie smiled. “It’s just because I cook them treats all the time.”

He took a hand off the steering wheel to fiddle with the air vents. “Are you warm enough?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Evie marveled at the great amount of flakes falling from the nearly colorless sky. Today they were the good kind–soft, light and powdery. The type Calvin said created the ultimate surface for boarding and skiing. Perfect flakes for Christmas day. Yesterday the snow had come down in dense, heavy chunks. They could hardly be called flakes at all. Those fell much faster and covered the ground with a wet slush. It was heavy and hard to shovel–the kind of snow that fell the day after her mother left. An involuntary shudder rippled over her body.

Her mind drifted back to the time when she’d unleashed that gnawing void–the monster that feasted on her from the inside–all by dwelling on her mother’s absence. Calvin’s love had put the action in reverse. It fed and filled her with life, worth, and completion. Evie brought Calvin’s hand up to her lips, kissed the warm center of his palm. Through the difficulty of her childhood memories and the sudden shift in her friendship with Kelly, Calvin had offered solace through his selfless love for her.

“Does your sister always call you Evie Mae?”

Evie shook her head. “Nah. Just when she’s in a good mood.”

“I can’t believe I never knew your middle name.” With one hand firmly on the wheel, Calvin leaned over and whispered into her ear, “Evie Mae. Me encanta Evie Mae.”

She chuckled, reveling in the feel of his warm breath on her skin. “You still sticking to your ‘no middle name’ story?”

“Yep.”

“You realize that I’m going to ask your dad and Parker about it, right?”

“And I’ll pay good money to keep them quiet.”

“Whatever,” she said through a laugh. “I’ll just call you Calvin Bernard until you tell me.”

“Bernard, huh?”

“Yeah, ‘til I think of something worse.”

As they pulled into the driveway, a wave of relief washed over her. She was glad they were done with all their visits. They’d seen Jack and Parker, Jessica and her family, and of course her dad, who was still at Jessica’s. Now Evie would have Calvin all to herself.

In the warmth of the quiet basement, she gave him his Christmas gifts: A tin of his most choice lead pencils and a stack of art pads. “I’m going to miss having art with you,” she said, “seriously.” Her new classes would be starting up in January, and not one was with Calvin.

He smiled. “I’ll miss it too.” He reached for the large package he’d carried in from the Jeep. “Okay, you’re next.”

Evie pulled at the crisp, white paper, revealing a sculpted design along a rustic-looking frame. She removed the remaining paper until she revealed its entirety. Behind a thin sheet of glass lay a beautifully detailed piece of abstract art, something he’d obviously labored over. She leaned it back so she could see past the glare from the light above her.

The drawing portrayed a large chess piece–the knight–sketched in three different positions. At the center of the print, the knight stood bold, face forward, slightly larger than the other two. At the widened center of the main piece, lay a gently sketched portrait of Evie’s face. Not obvious–just soft, subtle, and skilled. Sleek hair, soft eyes with detailed lashes, gentle cheeks and lips. And though it was an obvious likeness of her, it was more beautiful than she’d ever considered herself to be.

At each side of the central piece stood dual shadows of the knight–each with its back to the center. He’d written something boldly across the bottom in beautifully artistic script:

~ Evie’s Knight ~

It was breath taking; Calvin had managed to create a knight that looked softer, more round than the roughly chiseled ones from her set. A smoother, more gentle-looking version of the knight, yet it still looked fierce. Reflections of light bounced off the tips and planes. Dark, contrasting shadows fell beneath them. At the base of the page lay a massive checkerboard, solid squares of creamy white and bronze.

She pulled it onto her lap for a closer look. “What kind of material is this? The color looks metallic.”

“It’s a blend. I sketched it out with a bronzed lead, and then used a mixture of chalks and oil pastels to shade and outline.” He pointed out the dull black along the shadows and edges.

“Calvin, I love it. This is beautiful.”

“There’s a meaning behind it, a three-part meaning actually. That’s why there are three different views or angles of the knight.

“The first time we played chess, you mentioned liking the knight, the association with it. I haven’t forgotten that. And since then, I’ve noticed a lot of those characteristics in you.” He put his fingers up to the glass. “The middle one is a representation of you. It’s solid, strong, and resilient. I see that in you, the side that refuses to give up or cower. I admire that.” He gave her a smile before moving on.

“The other two are your protectors, guardians.” He pointed them out. “This one here is your spiritual knight, or higher being. It represents the constant force that will never abandon you. It watches over you, warns you of danger, and keeps you safe.

“This third one over here portrays the earthly guardian in your life. This one loves you deeply. He’d fight to protect you, give his life to save you, and wants only for your happiness. The third knight is myself.”

A single tear fell down Evie’s cheek. She smoothed it with the back of her hand as Calvin took the gift off her lap, leaned it against the couch. She stood up, looped her arms around him and spoke into the warm curve of his neck. “Calvin, I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

He slipped his hands around either side of her face and brought his mouth to a teasing closeness. “Evie Mae,” he whispered, brushing his lips against hers. “I love you.”

A rapid tug pulled at her heart. “I love you, too.”

***

Calvin jolted into a conscious state, labored breaths pressing through his tightened chest. His heart was an audible pump, pounding against his flesh, fighting to break through the surface while visions of his nightmare pulsed in his head.

He wiped at the beads of sweat gathered on his face and gulped the dryness from his throat. Cool blue shadows reached across his room, unthreatening and still. A stark contrast to the world beneath his lids. A world where Evie lay in danger.

Only a dream.
  Throwing back the covers, Calvin welcomed the frigid chill that rushed across his skin, knowing it would serve to wake him further–take him away from the dream. Yet in cruel, jolting flashes, the images returned. Blood, thick and crimson, spilling down the pasty, gnarled hands of the ghost. Evie’s lifeless form in her wake.

“Not real,” he said, dashing the visions from his head. Still, Calvin was tempted to hop in the Jeep, speed to her house and see that Evie really was safe and sound, as he’d left her just hours ago.

He filled his lungs and worked to calm his shaken breaths as his eyes closed again. More images rushed in: rustling branches and quivering leaves. His frenzied journey across the land. The visions put him back there in a blink–speeding through the air like a finely aimed dart, his body parallel to the blurry earth just yards below. The dream had lent him every sensation. Even in recollection, he could almost feel the rapid wind pressing against his face, rushing through his hair.

The powerful action should have left him high–flying over the land with precision and speed–but it didn’t. Because he’d been consumed with thoughts of his purpose: To save the woman he loved. That sheer desperation ate at him–had him fearing for her safety even then, awake and conscious.