Scarred (5 page)

“Oh
, I’m sorry, dear.” She looked at me with pained eyes. “I’m sure Eddie is looking down on you.”

“Yeah,
” I frowned, annoyed I had brought it up. “But it will be good to see the old crew.”

“It will be fun to have all your o
ld friends back in the house,” she smiled. “I’ll have to come up with a list of foods to prepare.”

“Oh mom,
” I laughed. “Are you trying to be Mrs. Cleaver again?”

“Only if you’ll be my beaver.” She threw a dishcloth at me and laughed.

“I’ll always be your beaver, mom,” I laughed and stared at my mom.

“I need a new
Ward though,” my mom mumbled under her breath and I looked at her in surprise. Had I heard her correctly?

“What did you just say
, mom?”

“Oh nothing
, son.” She smiled at me. “And before I forget, two girls called for you. A Mary and Suzannah.”

“Thanks.” I sighed and my mom laughed.

“They sure don’t waste any time do they?”

“Who?”

“The women of Jonesville, of course,” she laughed and stared at me. “You’re just as handsome as your father, if not more so, so I’m not surprised.”

“Mom, you’re just saying that.” I blushed and stared at her properly. She was still as
petite and beautiful as ever, but I could see that she looked older now and had frown lines and creases all over her face. Her hair was platinum blonde and perfectly coiffed, and her blue eyes had lost a little of their sparkle, but she was still my beautiful mom. I felt my heart swell with love. I wasn’t sure what I would have done if I didn’t have her in my life.

“No
, son. If I were a few years younger and not your mom, I’d be calling, too.”

“
Arrgh, mom,” I groaned and stood up. “I’m going to my room. Call me when dinner is ready.”

“Yes
, dear,” she laughed and turned back to preparing the food.

I ran up the stairs I knew so well and into my room. It was weird being back in this comfortable house after the last few years I had had. The barracks I had slept in hadn’t been half as comfortable as my home life. It felt weird to be back. I didn’t feel like I deserved to be back in the life of luxury. Not when so many p
eople I knew, better men than I, had nothing to go back to.

I closed my eyes and sat on the edge of my bed, trying to forget the conversations I’d had with Private Ron Benjamin. He’d been my best friend since basic training. We had been overjoyed when we were stationed together. He had decided to stay enlisted.
He had nothing to come back to—no family, no girlfriend, no nothing. I’d tried to get him to come back to Jonesville with me, but he had laughed. He didn’t want to come back to this drama. He knew about everything. Well, almost everything. And he had actually tried to convince me to just let it all go. But I couldn’t. There were things I had to take care of.

First things first, I needed to figure out a way to get
Lexi Lord to my party. I jumped up and went to my computer and typed in “Lexi Lord Jonesville”. Only about ten entries came up and two of them were linked to Jonesville Public Library. I clicked on the first link and grinned. She worked in the library. I could go in there and make some sort of small talk and hopefully figure out a way to drop the party into the conversation. I wasn’t sure if it was such a good idea, because she had never really hung out with my crowd in high school, but I knew I had to get her there. I needed to talk to her. I was scared that I was going to bring up bad memories for her and I didn’t want to do that. I’d have to tread carefully, but I knew I had to talk to her. I couldn’t have her thinking I was her savior when I wasn’t.

I went to Google maps and worked out the distance from the library to the post office. They were less than a mile away from each
other which was awesome. I’d go to the library first and then to the post office. I felt my heart beating quickly as I thought about Miss, my anonymous letter writer. I really hoped that I would be able to convince someone to give me some information about who owned the PO Box.

I got up and sat on my bed again and reached down for my bag, pulling out a bag of letters. I took one out at random and pulled the paper from the envelope and lay back to read it. Her letters always made me smile. When I read them
, I was transported to a different place.

Dear Bryce,

How are you? It’s so weird not writing to a real address. I don’t know where in the world this letter is going to. I don’t even know where in the world you are. But I guess, at the end of the day, location doesn’t matter. Just knowing you are safe and reading this letter is all that matters to me.

I was thinking about you a lot last night. My best frie
nd L and I were watching Downton Abbey, a newish British TV show that comes on PBS. They was an episode where one of the characters got injured at war (I think it was the Boer war or WWI—I’m not really sure) and I cried. I cried because I wondered what would happen if you got injured. I wouldn’t be notified at all. I’d find out through the grapevine and only because your dad is mayor. I guess he is good for something after all
!


I hope you are keeping yourself occupied and safe. I’m sorry that I can’t
Skype right now, my computer isn’t working and I don’t think it would be as romantic to talk live like it is in our letters. Honestly, I think it would be quite awkward.

Anyways, enjoy the candy I sent and the new Clive
Cussler book I sent!

I hope you write back soon.

Miss

I
looked at the letter and sighed. I wished that I hadn’t pushed her on the Skype thing. I had a feeling that may have been why she had stopped writing to me. I had just wanted to see her face. I wanted a face to picture when I read the letters. I wanted to know who I was slowly falling in love with. I wanted to know who the one woman in the world, aside from my mother, who I truly believed cared about me, was.

I
didn’t know how to tell her that I didn’t care what she looked like, because I knew that wasn’t completely true. I knew that looks were important in a relationship, but I also knew that my heart was full of love for her. I couldn’t promise that I would love her still if we skyped, even though I was sure that I would. But it was too late to worry about her now. She’d probably moved on. But I still wanted to thank her. Still wanted her to know that she had gotten me through the cold, lonely, anguished nights.

“Bryce, dinner is ready,
” my mom called up to me in a singsong voice. She was drunk, I could tell. She sounded too happy. And she was only this happy when she drank. Normally, she was a more subdued happy. I sighed as I walked out of my room, my head pounding. I was scared and worried about what was going to come next in my life. In some ways, I was more worried now than I was when I was a part of the war.

Chapter 5

“Bongo loves you.” Luke grinned at me as his dog slobbered all over my face.

“Well, of course he does.” I grinned back at Luke as he stood in front of his TV
, going through his DVD’s.

“What do you want to watch?”

“I don’t know.” I lay back on his bed and pushed Bongo away from me. “A chick flick?”

“Nope.”

“A romance?”

“That’s the same as a chick flick.” Luke rolled his eyes at me.

“No, it’s not. Chick flicks are funny and always have a happy ending. Romances can be sad, funny, chilling, mysterious and—”

“
—I know, I know. They don’t always have a happy ending.” Luke finished my sentence and I laughed. We had had this argument many times before. “What about a thriller?”

“
Ehh,” I groaned.

“A comedy.” He paused. “With no romance.”

“What good is a comedy with no romance?”

“A documentary.”

“Hell no.”

Luke laughed and flung himself on his bed next to me. “You are
soo difficult. You do know that, right?”

“No
, I’m not.” I pouted at him and picked up a pillow. “And I will hit you with this pillow if you say it again.”

“
Lexi Lord, you are soo difficult.”

I jumped up and hit Luke with the pillow
, hard, as he spoke and he grabbed another pillow and hit me. We rolled around on the bed, hitting each other and laughing, while Bongo barked at us. Eventually, Luke grabbed the pillow out of my arms and pinned my arms down with his two strong hands. He sat on me and looked down on me, grinning. “Who’s difficult?”

“Not me,
” I squealed, wriggling underneath him and trying to get away.

“Who’s difficult?” h
e asked again and wiggled his eyebrows as he held me down. He took one hand and started tickling me and I screamed, unable to stop myself.

“Me, me, me.
Stop.” I laughed, breathlessly. He finally stopped and rolled over and I looked at him, panting. “You’re an asshole, Luke Bryan.”

“And I own up to it.” He laughed, kissed me on the nose and jumped up. “So, what shall we watch?”

“You choose,” I sighed. “It’s not like you care what I think, anyways.”

“That’s not true,” h
e laughed and held up a DVD. “How’s about Madea Goes To Jail?”

“What?” I twitched my nose. “
Madea again?”

“It’ll be fun.”

“Uh huh.” I threw a pillow at him. “I think you’re going to end up dating an older black lady, Luke.”

“You think?” h
e grinned.

“Someone in her seventie
s,” I laughed. “Not older like Halle Berry. She’s too hot and too young.”

“What about Kerry Washington?”

“Way too young for you,” I grinned. “Plus, she has President Grant.”

“Ah, yes. I can’t
compete with President Grant,” he grinned. “Actually, I missed last week’s episode of
Scandal,
so maybe we can watch it after Madea.”

“If I’m not asleep,
” I laughed and rolled my eyes. Luke had an unhealthy obsession with all the Madea movies. I really wasn’t sure why, but he loved them and owned all of the DVD’s. I didn’t tell him that Tyler Perry had some TV shows as well, or he may never have left his house.

Luke put on the movie and came and sat next to me on the bed. He pressed play and then turned to me. “So
, what’s going on with you and lover boy?”

“He’s not my lover.” I blushed because
, in my dreams, Bryce Evans was a lot more than just a friend to me.

“Well
, I know that.” Luke poked me and grinned at me. “Last time I checked you had never had a lover.”

“Luke,
” I groaned. “Don’t remind me of my pitiful state.”

“You’re saving yourself for the right man. There’s nothing pitiful there.”

“If he ever comes along.”

“He’ll come.” Luke lay flat and stared at the ceiling. “So MIT emailed me today.”

“Oh yeah?” I lay flat on the bed next to him and stared at the ceiling as well. For some reason, I felt tension in my shoulders and nerves in my belly. “What did they say?”

“They’ll give me a full-ride, guaranteed admission to a PhD program
, once I finish my bachelors, and an assistantship. Apparently, there are two professors who are dying to work with me.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to be happy for my friend, and I was
, but I felt more sad for myself.

“Yeah. It was overwhelming reading how badly they wanted me.” He turned towards me and I rolled over and stared into his eyes. “I never thought something like this would ever happen to me, you know.”

“I know.” I smiled at him gently and wondered at his eyelashes. How he got soo lucky to have long, black eyelashes that framed his eyes so well I didn’t know. He smiled back and me and I stared at his chipped tooth, fondly. “So, do you think you’ll go?”

“I’m not sure.” He studied my face. “I’d be leaving a lot behind.”

“Not Bongo, I hope.” I tried to lighten the mood with a joke and Bongo let out a bark, to let us know that he agreed with my words.

“I c
ouldn’t leave my precious Bongo,” Luke smiled. “Let’s play the ten things game.”

“Okay.” I licked my lips and reached over for Luke’s hands. The ten things game was a gam
e we had created when we were sixteen and our friendship had nearly deteriorated. I had been angry at him for something silly and told him to never call me again. He had reached over and grabbed my hands and told me ten things that he loved about me and my friendship. By the end of his monologue, I had forgiven him and we were friends again. We’d since adapted the game to fit into different circumstances and, instead of one person doing all the talking, we both told each other ten things we appreciated about the other one. No questions asked. If one of us needed a pick me up after a sad day we asked to play, or if we just wanted to let the other one know how much we cared about them.