Romance: Love Left Behind - A Mystery Romance: (Romance, Mystery, Mystery Romance, Romantic Suspense)
Authors: Paige Powers
Love Left Behind
Paige Powers
Global Village Publications
Love Left Behind
Copyright 2015 Paige Powers, Global Village Publications
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Table of Contents
The Beginning – Prologue
The air smelled like the aftermath of a storm and summertime barbecue. It carried through the town of Bellen, New Jersey on a gentle wind, encasing everything in its wake. The residents of the small town basked in the lovely essence of summer. Some sat on blankets in Richfield Park – the local hangout spot – reading their books under the tender glow of the sun. Others swung on their front porch swings, listening to indie music or the top 100 over the radio.
For those who lived on Firestone Drive, out on the edge of town, the event of the day was the annual Bluff family summer party. Every year, all of the families who lived on the block brought food and drinks over to the Bluff family’s backyard, gossiped, played games, and generally had a pleasant time. The children ran around through the knee-high grass. It was an excellent setting to play Tag or Hide-and-Seek, since there were so many areas in the yard to slip away into. The children’s impish shouts of joy echoed through the air. Meanwhile the adults sat on plastic lawn chairs sipping sangria out of red plastic cups, waiting for Mr. Edward Bluff to walk around with his platter of freshly grilled meat. He always grilled enough to feed an army – hot dogs, sausages, hamburgers, and chicken.
On the day of the barbecue that changed everything, a new family casually strolled into the backyard. They had only moved onto Firestone Drive that week, hailing originally from North Carolina. Despite the small-town status of Bellen, the father of the family had found it to be the perfect place to move for work. He was an entrepreneur, a large, chubby, self-assured man with a raging tangle of blonde hair on his head. The son, a tall and bony young man, stood awkwardly behind his father. The mother, a curvy woman in a floral-print dress, held in her hands a container of homemade chocolate-chip cookies, fresh out of the oven and smelling like Heaven itself.
The family seemed unsure of how to approach their neighbors. They stood by the whitewashed gate with sheepish grins on their face, looking as out of place as can be. The rest of the Firestone Drive inhabitants peered at the newcomers quietly. Nobody wanted to make the first move. In the end, it was the second youngest member of the Bluff clan who stepped forward and first made acquaintance with the new family.
“Hello!” Starla said with a voice full of pep. Her wide, gap-toothed smile shone out from a sweet face, dusty with sweat and dirt from playing in the backyard all afternoon. Inquisitive eyes looked out from underneath her blonde fringe, as light and feathery as a doll’s hair. “I’m Starla Bluff and this is my house. Who are you?”
The mother of the new family smiled and replied, “Hello, Starla. I’m Mrs. Brindell. My family and I just moved in down the street from you. We heard your family was having a party today and wanted to come by and introduce ourselves.”
Starla turned to the son, who was staring unsteadily at his feet. Not one for being subtle, she stepped incredibly close to him so that their faces were nearly touching. “What’s your name?”
The boy shifted from foot to foot as though he was hopping on hot coals. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his jeans, making them bulge out in a repulsive-looking manner. Quietly, he said, “Ben.”
“Ben just turned ten,” said Mrs. Brindell. “How old are you, Starla?”
“Nine and a half,” said Starla. Then, suddenly and without hesitation, she grabbed Ben’s elbow and yanked him off into the yard. His parents couldn’t help but giggle at the shocked look on his face.
That action would mark the beginning of one of the most intense friendships that Bellen, New Jersey would ever see. Starting on the eve of that barbecue, there was rarely a day when the two children did not spend time together. Oftentimes Starla would wake up, grab some toys or books, and then trudge down the street to knock on the Brindell’s front door. Then Ben and Starla would swing on the porch swing, sharing stories or making up games.
Their favorite was something that Starla affectionately named ‘Space Explorer,’ where the two kids would pretend that the swing was a rocket ship and they were astronauts sent out to explore the great unknown. They would use their feet to push the swing back as far as they could and when they lifted their legs, they would soar forward at what seemed like the speed of light. As their imaginary rocket ship spun erratically through the galaxy, the two explorers would battle aliens, stop for space tea on Mars, and count stars. Inside the house, Mr. and Mrs. Brindell would smile and shake their heads as they listened to the errant shrieks of joy emanating from out on their porch.
As they grew older, ‘Space Explorer’ fell to the wayside, replaced by other activities like hiking and reading books to each other. When they reached middle school, they began taking long walks through the local park at night. They told each other their innermost thoughts and desires. Nothing was off limits. On weekends they curled up on the porch swing and read stories from Starla’s dog-eared book of Edgar Allen Poe. Ben watched the sunlight reflect from Starla’s eyes and marveled at the way the darkness of the stories mingled with the brilliance in front of him. When the weather turned cold, as it inevitably does in the Northeast, the two would relax on the couches in whichever house they ended up at. They spent hours watching and analyzing old movies. It was an odd hobby and obsession, but they always found it intriguing.
When are you and Ben finally going to start dating?” Mrs. Bluff would tease her daughter playfully. Starla would always blush and say they were just friends.
But their relationship was inevitable. It had been since that very first day of meeting. Their love and understanding for each other had been simmering slowly throughout the past few years, needing a catalyst to push the emotions to a rolling boil.
It came during the fall of their freshman year of college at Bellen High School. Ben and Starla had bundled up in scarves and jackets, the warmest clothes they owned, and made their way to their school’s football game. They were playing rival school, Jackson High, and it was a game that had been talked about and whispered about in the hallways for weeks. Some rumors said that the students would all storm the field if they won. Others said that there would be a heavy police presence at the game in case the rivals got feisty and went after each other. Either way, Starla and Ben were excited to see it all play out.
The points remained close during the duration of the game. Ben got distracted partway through the second half, when Starla leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder.
“Sorry,” she said. “I’m just a little tired. And worried. This is too close for me.”
“Don’t worry,” Ben whispered back. “It’ll work out, I know it.”
In the last few seconds of the game, the quarterback of their team managed to catch the ball and sprint ten yards to score a touchdown. The stands went wild. Screams, cheers, and broken sections of the school song whirled through the air, mingling together to create an ovation for the team. Students, teachers, and other fans jumped up and ran down the bleachers. They spilled onto the field in a spray of yellow shirts – the school color – like a broken egg yolk.
A hand grabbed Ben’s chin and turned it. Suddenly he was face-to-face with Starla, the excitement of the win glowing like a thousand lit candles in her eyes. Before he knew what was happening, their lips were pressed tightly together. The two of them stayed like that for a couple seconds, their lips prone against the others. Slowly, Ben pushed against her lips, trying to slide his tongue through. But Starla pulled away, laughing.
“We won!” she said, her voice full of happiness. A deep rosy blush colored her cheeks. She leaned forward a bit, placing her hands ever so gently on Ben’s cheeks. Their faces were in limbo, settled close together but not yet touching. Each of them was breathing heavily, their breaths dissipating in the chilly air. They were now seemingly oblivious to the rest of the kerfuffle going on around them. Ben wondered if they were going to kiss again, but didn’t have to wonder long. Once again Starla moved in, pressing her lips to his. This time, their kiss was longer, more drawn out. Their tongues explored each other’s mouths.
At first, Ben thought that it was probably just a result of them winning the game. Adrenaline can be such a rush. But their kissing didn’t stop there. They caught clandestine kisses in the hallways, in the school parking lot, or when they were walking through the park on some of their weekly explorations. Their parents noticed the shift in their behavior as well. Whenever the two watched movies together, they would sit closely, and try to hold hands. If Mr. or Mrs. Bluff, or Mr. or Mrs. Brindell, walked into the room, Starla and Ben would jump apart. They began to look guilty even though they weren’t doing anything.
When Mr. and Mrs. Bluff finally caught the two kissing one day, in the driveway of their home, they didn’t laugh or tease the kids. They didn’t say anything mean or tell them not to kiss in public. Rather, Mr. Bluff stepped out of the car and said, “I was wondering when you two were finally going to admit that you liked each other!”
The rest, as they say, was history.
2006 – Ben and Starla
Their class hadn’t raised enough money to rent out some ritzy establishment for prom so, as a throwback to the old days, they held it in the gymnasium of the school. The bleachers were pushed back and replaced with rows of black aluminum chairs for the less fortunate students to sit on – the students who would inevitably spend their entire prom experience watching their peers dance the night away. In one corner, opposite the doors, sat two tables with a paltry spread of cakes and cookies. For those health-conscious students, there were even a few apples and oranges taken from the school cafeteria. A bowl of sparkling punch sat under the watchful eye of the principal, whose only goal for the night was to make sure that none of his students would try to sneak past and spike the punch with liquor. There had been some incidents in the past where a spiked rum punch had made the prom more rowdy than anything else and the principal did not want any repeats.
From the metal bars on the ceiling hung gilded stars and glossy silver globes, occasionally bypassed by black and white streamers. Photographs of students hung on the walls, mementos of the four years that had just gone by in the blink of an eye. Some of the students had brought yearbooks with them to the prom for others to autograph. For all they knew, their classmates could be famous actors, athletes, or producers someday. In the midst of it all, the DJ played dance music at ear-splitting volume and couples swirled around the dance floor.
But Benjamin Brindell noticed nothing about the décor and nothing about the other people that crowded around him, making it hard to move his feet without stepping on another pair of toes. The only thing he could see was Starla in front of him, beautiful Starla Bluff, in her long plum dress that shimmied as she moved. He watched the long sliver of gold that was her necklace shiver around her collarbones, wishing he could replace it with the soft caress of his lips or fingers.
Ever since he had picked her up for the prom earlier that night, he had been entranced by the dress, the necklace, and even her tall black heels. He was even more entranced by the girl wearing the outfit. During the hundreds of pictures snapped by their parents in the backyard of Starla’s house, Ben was filled with the urge to reach out and grab Starla’s hand. He wanted to be close to her. Then on the way to the prom, in the somewhat raucous ride in the limo with their friends, where too much champagne was drank and spilled on the floor, Ben could not stop staring at the treasure he was with.
