In Honor (17 page)

He didn’t finish, and I wanted to take his hand in mine or put my arm around him or just tell him I understood. Because I’d felt the same way. I’d gotten used to Finn being away, and in the time between the day we heard the news and the day of his funeral, I let myself pretend that’s what it was, that he was still just . . . away. Even with the sympathy food slowly filling our fridge and the candles and flowers and flags on our front lawn, I still felt like it could be a colossal mistake. That Finn had just gotten lost in the chaos after the blast, one so strong it blew his dog tags right off, made them think the dead soldier they landed near was him. And maybe he’d been surviving out there in the desert, alone but alive, doing everything he could to make it back to his base and let us know he was okay. Denial’s a stubborn thing. And necessary at first, so the world doesn’t come crashing down on you all at once.

But the day Gina and I stood in the hundred-degree airplane hangar to meet the plane carrying his remains, my world had cracked right down the center. When the plane landed and the door slid open enough to show the shiny, metal casket inside, reality knocked me down so hard, I couldn’t breathe. So I understood what Rusty meant.

“Why’d you come, then?” I asked.

Rusty rubbed his forehead. “Because. It was the right thing to do.” He took a deep breath and looked right at me. “And because I promised Finn if anything ever happened to him, I’d look out for you.”

I stared at him. “When?”

“What do you mean, when?”

“I mean when did you promise him that?”

“I don’t know, once he got over there and realized there was a chance. He had a lot of close calls—what does that have to do with anything?”

I opened my mouth to say something, but I didn’t know where to begin or which feeling was the right one just then—surprise and hurt and jealousy were all having it out in my chest at the moment. Finn hadn’t mentioned to me, in any of his e-mails, that he’d had any close calls or that he and Rusty were talking again. Definitely not that they were talking about me and how I needed to be looked out for in case anything happened to him. And by
Rusty
? Of all people? Anger flared in me, and I felt like I was seven years old all over again, left just outside their tight little circle of friendship.

The screen door slid open and Celia stepped out, rifling through a pile of magazines in her arms. “Okay, I know this looks like a lot, but . . .” Right away she seemed to sense the tension sitting like a wall between us. She looked from me to Rusty and back again, then set the magazines down gingerly. “You know, it’s late. Why don’t I just leave ’em here, and we can go through them all tomorrow, okay?”

I pulled my eyes away from Rusty’s long enough to answer, “Okay . . . thank you.” But then I looked right back at him. Hard. “I’ve just about had enough of this day anyway.” I pushed my chair out behind me and tried to temper my voice when I stood and spoke to Celia again. “I think I need to get some sleep.”

She looked me over carefully with eyes that wanted to understand, then glanced briefly at Rusty before she put her arm around my shoulder. “All right sweetie. I’ll show you to the guest room.”

I may have needed sleep, but it didn’t come. Not after I heard Celia and Rusty pull out the sofa bed and their whispers before she told him good night. Not after her door clicked shut and the house went quiet. Not even after I heard someone snoring rhythmic and low somewhere in the house. Instead, I lay there on my back in the guest room, with the light turned off so Rusty’d think I was asleep, and the window wide open, spilling in cool night air. I tried to pick out constellations in the sky, patterns that would help me make sense of why I felt so . . . so . . . I didn’t even know what it was, but it was enough to keep me balanced on the edge of angry tears all night.

It wasn’t that Finn had patched things up with Rusty.
That
I was actually glad to hear. They were best friends. It was just that I hadn’t even known, and by the time Finn left and started writing to me, I’d liked the feeling that
I
was the one he kept in touch with and told things to. The one he was closest to. Instead I was the one who still needed protecting, because he didn’t believe in me like he said.

My breath hitched as a new thought occurred to me. It wasn’t Rusty who had left me out. He was gone to school by then, with no reason to keep in touch with me. It was Finn—my brother—who I should be mad at, who all of a sudden I
was
mad at. Not just for not telling me every little detail of his life but for all of it—enlisting and leaving when he didn’t have to, for some stupid reason I didn’t understand and he never explained. For dying because of it and not being here now, when I was lost and needed him most.

18

I snapped to attention at the sound of footfalls outside my door. I had no idea what time it was, but I sat up in bed, sure all of a sudden that Rusty had been lying awake on the couch all this time too and was coming to talk to me about things. But nobody knocked. The door didn’t ease open. The footsteps went past the door, right down the hallway to the kitchen.

It had to be Bru, then, up for his vortex tour. Which meant it was four a.m., and any hope I had for sleep was probably lost by now. The last thing I wanted to do was lie there waiting for the sun to come up, then have to face Rusty right off the bat. I needed to sort myself out first. Really, if there was anything that would do me some good, it’d be fresh air. A little peace or clarity or whatever Bru had called it couldn’t hurt either. I jumped up, still in my clothes, and yanked on my boots just as the jeep’s engine rumbled to life outside.

The first step out the door told me it was a good idea. I breathed in the starry coolness of the morning and the potential of a new day, still all crisp and clean in the dark. Bru was leaned over the side of the jeep clanking something around when I made it down the porch steps.

“Can I come? To the vortex?”

He spun around, reaching inside his jacket like a cowboy in the old westerns, then brought his hand to his chest and smiled in recognition at me. “Holy Hell, girl. You tryin’ to get shot first thing in the mornin’?”

“I’m sorry. I just heard the engine, and I was hoping . . . Are you really wearing a
gun
?” I squinted at him in the dark.

He patted his side. “Safety precaution. Never know what you might find out there in the dark.”

“Oh.” I waited a second for the punch line, but he went back to clanking around the jeep, serious as could be. “Um . . . Bru?”

“What’s that, darlin’?” he asked, walking around to the driver’s side of the jeep.

“Well . . . I was hoping you might have an extra seat. For the vortex thing. I could pay you . . . or be a lookout or something.”

Bru chuckled, then motioned at the jeep with a nod. “I got room. And I could use somebody to make nice with the hoity-toity ladies I got booked this mornin’. I’m not at my most charmin’ before sunrise.” He hoisted himself up into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. “Hop on in. Let’s go get us some coffee.”

By the time we pulled up to the valet area of the swanky resort to pick up Bru’s tour ladies, he’d sucked down the whole thermosful of coffee he’d filled up at the minimart. “Cece doesn’t keep any coffee in the house,” he explained, screwing the silver cup lid back on. “She likes all that herbal tea stuff that doesn’t do a dang thing to help you wake up, so I gotta get my fix when I can.” He put the jeep in park and cut the engine. “Also helps with the whole charming bit—which I’m gonna need, from the looks of it.” He motioned with his head, and my eyes caught what he was talking about.

Coming out of the massive frosted-glass doors of the lobby were two tiny blondes in pink track suits and little bejeweled hats pulled down low. They carried coffee cups and giant purses like all the stars in magazines, and they came out whispering to each other like best friends. I raised my eyebrows as Bru got out of the jeep and turned on his charm to greet them.

“So, whose brilliant idea was
this
?” he asked, stepping up to the two of them.

“Pardon me?” asked the taller one. I could see in the hotel lights she was the older of the two.

Bru put an arm out and gestured at the dark. “Not a lot to see out there until that sun comes up. You do realize that, right?”

“Of course I do,” she answered. “We want to watch the sunrise
from
the vortex so the whole thing will be that much more amazing.” She stepped toward Bru and extended her hand. “I’m Julia Whitmore. You make this a transcendent experience for my daughter and me, and I’ll make sure you’re compensated for the early hour. You do realize
that
, right?” She delivered her point with a wide smile, which Bru took to.

“Transcendent it is, then.” He shook her hand. “I’m Bru. Climb in, and I’ll get your gear.”

Once they were loaded and settled into the back of the jeep and belted in, Bru turned the key and wiped the dusty rearview mirror that spanned the whole top edge of the windshield. “Ladies, let me introduce a fellow traveler and seeker to you. This”—he gestured at me in the passenger seat—“is Honor. She’s here on a spiritual journey too.”

I looked at Bru, who just nodded at me, then I turned around to face them. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”

“Honor? What a pretty name! Like, so . . . important sounding, you know? I’m Ashley. And this is my mom, Julia. We just got here two days ago.”

Bru put the jeep in gear, and we rolled out of the turnaround and up a steep hill to the empty main road. “You ladies are gonna wanna finish that coffee of yours off before we hit the dirt,” Bru called over his shoulder. “’Cuz as soon as we do, you’re gonna get bumped around like you were in a stagecoach.”

In the mirror, I watched them bring their cups to their lips almost in unison and sip silently, exchanging a glance, so I sipped too and watched the center line of the road in our headlights. We drove through the sleeping town in semiawkward silence, which wasn’t all that surprising, considering it wasn’t even five yet. Still, it seemed like someone should talk, so I turned around in my seat and looked at Ashley.

“So, where y’all visiting from?”

“California,” she chirped. “Newport Beach.” I felt Bru’s eyes on me in the mirror, but I didn’t turn around. “What about you?” Ashley asked.

“Texas—no town you would’ve heard of, though.”

“Funny thing, you being from California and all,” Bru cut in. “That’s where Honor here was headed before her car broke down.” I looked over at him now, wondering why in the world he would feel the need to tell them this.

Julia laughed. “Really? It’s not where I’d go on a spiritual journey. Maybe your car breaking down was the universe pointing you here instead.”

I smiled politely. “Maybe so.” She and Celia could have a field day with that one.

“Ohmygosh, it probably totally was!” Ashley’s voice lit up, and she leaned forward and put her hand on my shoulder with the familiarity of an old friend. “We went to this psychic lady yesterday, and she told us all about how if your channels or chakras or something are all open and lined up, you can actually get messages from the universe about what it wants you to do.” She paused for a quick breath before going on.
“And,”
she said, putting her other hand on Bru’s shoulder, “she also said that this guy is the best guide in Sedona to take you to the vortex to hear it. The universe, I mean. So either you’re lucky or it’s meant to be!”