Heart Murmurs (22 page)

“Sounds like a great guy.”

“Don't it though.” Sloan fought the urge to roll her eyes.

“And I take it you don't like this Darcy girl.”

“How did you guess?” she scowled. She could hear her mom's disembodied voice yelling at her to stop. It caused wrinkles.

“Just a gift I have.”

“Handy,” she sighed, deciding she might as well tell him what happened. It would be a long ride home otherwise. “Darcy used to be my best friend. We've hung out since we were both in diapers.”

“And she just all at once turned on you? With no cause? She stole that Boyd guy from you, right?”

“Nothing that soap opera-ish. And she does have a cause, I guess. In her mind, anyway.” Sloan tapped the case of her phone rhythmically. “She has taunted me without letting up since August fourteenth of this year.”

“I'll bite. What happened August fourteenth?”

“I got saved. Became a Christian.”

“How evil of you.”

“I know, right? I just had enough of it tonight, ya know? I came with my friend, Mackenzie, because she said I was becoming a stick in the mud and needed fun.”

“Looks like you had a blast.”

“Oh, yeah, it was great.” The eye-rolling urge became too powerful. “Everything was fine until Darcy locked me in the bathroom with her. She was drunk, kept mocking me and doing her normal Darcy act. Then she got in my face and threw her beer on me. So I ran.”

“Because you were scared of her? Hey, I get it. She was off her rocker, out of control…”

“That's not why I ran.”

“Then why?” He actually sounded interested.

“I was afraid that if I didn't, I'd attack her. I wanted so badly to smack that ugly smirk off her face.”

Aaron got very quiet like he was letting it all process. “So—you ran because you were afraid you would hurt her.”

“Basically. I can have a temper at times. I'm saved, not perfect. I wanted to hit her so hard. You have no idea.”

“I can imagine.”

Sloan wondered if he had a temper himself.

The car slowed at the four-way stop that connected Brown Hollow Road to Highway 70. Sloan tensed, realizing she really was at Aaron's mercy. If he turned left, he would end up in Nashville. The road straight ahead led to Harrisburg, a very small town with two red lights and three factories that employed most of the people in the county. If he turned right, he would end up in Chapel Hill, Sloan's desired destination.

The streetlight above the stop sign illuminated the interior of the car just enough for her to see Aaron. He had dark, wavy, almost curly hair a little on the longer side. The front poofed back, most likely with the help of some extra hold gel. If Sloan remembered correctly, it had been curly when they were kids. Aaron was a grade ahead of her and Ray, so she didn't see him very much at school. He had on a black leather jacket with a black button-down shirt underneath. His olive skin and brown eyes made him look nothing like his half-brother, Ray, who she remembered had blonde hair and blue eyes. The guys had the same mother but different fathers. Aaron obviously took after his father since Sloan remembered his mother as having sheet-white, pale skin.

Aaron sat up and tapped his fingers on the wheel, looking first to the right, then to the left. “Hmm… which way to go?” From the playful grin he tried to hide, she knew he was kidding… or hoped he was anyway.

“You'd better turn the way that takes me home,” she played along. “I did tell Mackenzie to call the police if she didn't hear from me. You've got about thirty minutes, buddy.”

“I can do a lot in thirty minutes.” He smirked.

“Yeah, like get me home.” Sloan knew she should be leery of him, but she couldn't be. For some reason, she had a good feeling about him. She prayed that feeling didn't lead her down the wrong path.

“Oh, all right,” he sighed overdramatically. His big brown eyes shone in the streetlight. “Can't have the cops after me again,” he said as he turned right toward Chapel Hill.

“Wait.”

“Something wrong?”

“You said you can't have the cops after you again. What did you do to have them after you before?”

“Which time?” He clearly enjoyed making her uncomfortable.

“There was more than once?” She had to fight to keep her jaw from dropping. Little Aaron Hunter had changed a lot in nine years.

“Don't worry your pretty little head. It wasn't anything horribly bad.”

“That's what they all say.”

“Who?”

“Serial killers and murderers.”

“If you thought I was a murderer, you never would have gotten in the car with me.”

“I might have if I thought it was a better alternative than going back to that house and dealing with Darcy Perry.”

He laughed at that. “That bad, huh?”

She shrugged and stared at the black nothingness of acres of farmland outside her window.

He took a deep breath. “I'm not a murderer. Never killed anybody. I was wrongly accused, actually.”

“Of what?”

“Of something I didn't do.”

He smiled and she glared. “Thanks. That helps a lot.”

“Sorry, it's just a long story.”

“Tease.” She giggled. Then the more she thought about it, the more curious she became about him. “It had to be rough, though. Being accused of something you didn't do.”

The fields of tall grass and scattered trees gradually became speckled with the lights of houses the closer they got to town.

“It happens. Anyway, I'm not that guy anymore.”

“Saw the light, did you?”

“Not in the found Jesus way. But things happened. I turned eighteen a little over a year ago and had to grow up.”

“I'll be eighteen on December second.” She couldn't hold in her excitement.

“This Tuesday?”

“Yeah,” she beamed. She had looked forward to this birthday for as long as she could remember. Her mom promised they would go shopping for the car of her dreams. She'd had her license for a while but had to wait two years longer than everyone else she knew for a car. The last few days had seemed like torture.

“Well, let me be the first to wish you a very happy birthday, Sloan Bridges.”

“Why, thank you, Aaron Hunter.” She grinned back.

Since it was past eight o'clock, every red light in Chapel Hill flashed yellow. Aaron drove through two of them then gently pushed on the brakes. “Here's your house.”

“I still can't believe you remember all of this.”

He shrugged and flipped on his blinker. “I always liked this neighborhood.”

Straight ahead was a two-car garage covered with white siding that matched the house. When she was little, both sides of the garage were used. After her dad left, her mom's side had the only car. That would change on Tuesday.

The garage was attached by a small covered walkway to the two-story house with a large wrap around porch along the front. Except for color and a few minor touches, most of the houses on Oak Street looked similar. All had small front yards and larger backyards. Some were fenced. Some weren't. Sloan's wasn't.

“Do you still live in the same house you did before?”

“Yeah. My mom never sold it. Surprisingly,” he sounded bitter. “It was my great-grandma's so totally paid for.”

“That's good then. I'm glad you are getting to stick around.”

“Me, too.” His eyes caught hers and for a minute, she couldn't look away.

She got her wits about her finally and grabbed the door handle. “Well, thanks for bringing me home.”

“Anytime.”

The cold air slammed against her, and she immediately missed the warmth of Aaron's Mustang. With one last smile, she shut the car door and walked the stone path to the porch steps. She got her key from her pocket and placed it in the lock. An oak sign that had been on the crimson door as long as she could remember welcomed her home. With one last wave to Aaron, she walked inside and locked the door.

To her right was the living room decorated in blues and chocolate browns. At one time, the room had been a dark shade of pink. It changed the day Sloan's dad took off with her mom's best friend's twenty-year old niece, Tiffani, whose favorite color was pink. Her mom became a different person, trying everything she could to ‘stay' young. Sometimes, Sloan thought she went too far.

Sloan figured her mom would be asleep in her bedroom upstairs and didn't want to wake her. She quietly laid her keys in the antique bowl sitting on her grandma's cherry table in the foyer. The large silver mirror hanging over the table caught her reflection. She wrinkled her nose at the sorry sight. Her golden hair, thanks to frequent salon visits, fell wildly out of its hairband. The little braid along the side that had been so cute when she left the house barely clung to the falling out bobby pin, and her side-swept bangs were still damp from Darcy's well-aimed beer. A much-needed shower would have to wait, though. Her stomach needed food.

Trying to figure out what to eat, she stepped down into the kitchen to her right. Unlike the living room, the kitchen décor survived ‘Tiffani-gate'. White cabinets hovered over charcoal-colored countertops. All appliances were stainless steel, and a long granite island with a white base sat in the middle of the room.

Sloan went to the fridge to see if she could scrounge up something. Neither of them had gone shopping since Thanksgiving. She was so tired of leftover turkey and dressing, and it had only been one day. Noticing that the milk had expired the day before, she resigned herself to eating a bowl of cereal without it.

She threw a bite of the sugary cereal in her mouth and looked out the window over the sink. At a little after ten, the neighborhood was dead. Cars passed sparsely, and most houses already had their lights off for the night. The street rolled up early in Chapel Hill.

Tired and ready to join her neighbors in sleep, she took her bowl and turned toward the foyer. A dark figure standing in the doorway made her scream and fumble with the bowl.

In an instant, her eyes were nearly blinded by a bright light. “Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you,” her mom said with her hand on the light switch. Sloan squinted and blinked until her eyes adjusted. When they did, she saw her mom in a fluffy purple robe and slippers. Her blonde hair, achieved the same way Sloan got hers, was gathered in a long side braid. She was a little taller and a little skinnier than Sloan. Since her father had left with Tiffani, her mom had also gotten some enhancements in other areas, though to Sloan's knowledge her mom hadn't dated much.

“I just wasn't expecting you to be up. That's all.”

“And I wasn't expecting you home so early. Did you have a good time?”

“I guess you could call it that.” If you were a total and complete liar. She ate some cereal to keep from elaborating.

“So, who drove you home?”

Sloan stopped mid-chomp.

“I saw the Mustang in the driveway, and Mackenzie has a Honda. So… spill. Got a new feller?”

“Mom!” Sloan's cheeks burned. “I haven't had a ‘feller' since Boyd. I don't even really want a guy.”

Her mom took a seat at the end of the island. “Not all guys are like Boyd.”

“That's a good thing,” Sloan said bitterly. Boyd had ‘loved' her during her wild days and got mad when she wouldn't sleep with him anymore after she got saved. He dumped her one night after a huge blow up and started dating Darcy the next day.

“Wanna talk about it? What happened at the party?”

“Who said anything happened?”

“Well, you're home before curfew and smell like a keg.”

Sloan groaned and fell onto the barstool next to her mom. She set the bowl on the island and picked out the green cereal bites. “Same ole same ole. Darcy can't keep her big mouth shut and appears to have really good aim.” Sloan held out a strand of her nasty hair.

“I remember when you two played together as kids. You've been friends for so long. I hate that it's come to this.”

“Me, too, Mom, but she's the one who did it. All I got was saved. She's the one who lost her mind.” Sloan shoved the last bite of cereal in her mouth, got up, and tossed the bowl in the sink. When she turned back around, her mom had a raised brow in one of those ‘motherly' looks. “I'll wash it tomorrow.”

“I'll hold you to that,” her mom smiled and scooted off the stool. “Ah, sweetie. I hate that it's hard for you right now, but you'll see. I'm sure it will get better.”

“I knew living for God wouldn't be easy, but I didn't think it would be this hard. I wish Donna was still next door. She'd know what to do.”

Her mom's face fell. “Look, it's no secret that I'm no Donna and not much of a believer myself, but I'm proud of you for trying to change your life. That said, if it's too hard, maybe you should ease up a little. Not try so hard.”

Sloan's eyes narrowed. “You want me to go back to how I was before?”

“No, not exactly.”

Mentally exhausted, Sloan fell back against the sink. “I appreciate it, but it's not something I want to stop. I love Jesus. It's just lonely sometimes.”

“You still have Mackenzie, don't you? Which brings us back to the beginning. Who brought you home?”

Sloan hoped her mom wouldn't get back to that question. “Aaron Hunter found me beside the road.”

Her mom paused and tilted her head. “There are so many things wrong with that sentence. Explain.”

Sloan walked back around the island and slumped on the barstool. This could take a while. “Darcy got drunk, which isn't unusual. Told me that Boyd called me a cold prude, but that was okay because she took care of him. And that if I believed in God so much, I wouldn't be there at the party. ‘He' wouldn't like it.”

“Wow. That's pretty harsh.”

“Oh, that's tame compared to what she did later. I felt a little out of place with Mackenzie falling all over her new conquest, Travis. So I walked the halls, looking at family pictures and whatever. Darcy came up behind me, pushed me into the bathroom, and locked the door behind her.”