Speed Demons (15 page)

“Which emphasized the shyness in front of your classmates.”

“Exactly. I learned to become invisible, one with the wall. I could tell that it really worked, because when people did notice me, they seemed surprised that I was still around. One time, my teacher scared my mother half to death by calling our house and asking why I wasn’t in school, when it turned out I’d been in class, actually
was
in class, right when she made the call. It takes skill to be that inconspicuous.”

“Something tells me that might have come in handy in your profession, while in dangerous territory.”

Blythe chuckled. Trust Evie to see something good in this, but she had to agree. She’d used the method more than a few times. “True. I learned some unexpected lessons in school, that’s for sure.”

“What did your parents say about your situation?”

Blythe went rigid, her muscles tensing merely from thinking about the house in Myrtle Beach, populated by the people who were her family. “Depends if you mean my father the ‘snap out of it, already’ dentist, or my mother the ‘shyness is a character flaw that will keep you from getting ahead’ teacher.”

“God. Let me see if I got that right. Your dad wants you to pull yourself together, and your mom thinks you need fixing to get ahead in life?”

“That’s pretty much it.”

“So, what did happen?”

Blythe gripped Evie’s legs tighter, since their tongue-in-cheek way of approaching her past only worked so far. “My mother believed she would find a method to deal with my shyness. She had me seeing therapists, one after another. She brought home books from the library on a weekly basis and collected clippings from weekly and monthly magazines in a binder, all of them touting different methods. She even sent me to a hypnotist once. That really freaked me out. I was afraid to sleep for weeks after that.” Blythe exhaled loudly as Evie pulled her closer. “Mom fed me all sorts of vitamins and supplements, which was a new and unusual thing back then. They just gave me an ulcer. She was convinced that I gave myself the ulcer, but our pediatrician claimed that the cocktail of stuff she forced on me did it. Even temporarily damaged my liver.”

“Oh, my God.” Evie slid her fingers up in Blythe’s hair. Goose bumps erupted all over her arms in a very pleasant way.

Grateful for the distraction, Blythe continued. “So, I battled my shyness and lack of friends in school, and my ambitious mother and no-nonsense dad at home.”

“Any siblings?”

“An older brother, Trevor, and a younger sister, Susie. He was a popular jock, and Susie was into ballet, which gave her a ready-made clique to hang with. They weren’t mean to me or anything, they were fine. Just busy with their own lives like normal kids.” Blythe tried to shrug, but her body was still so tense, she couldn’t.

“Am I too far off the mark if I suggest that your folks probably fell into the trap of comparing you to Trevor the Jock and Susie the Ballerina?”

“No.” This was ridiculous. Blythe knew she was over and done with her childhood, and still this conversation made her tremble and caused a burning sensation behind her eyelids.

“When did you find photography?”

“Oh, that?” Blythe managed to relax somewhat and leaned closer yet to Evie. “I joined some different extracurricular activities to please my mom, and one of them was the photography club. Turned out to be the best thing that had ever happened to me. The first time I held a SLR camera, it felt so right in my hands. I knew instinctively about composition, lighting, subjects, and the technique. By then I was being bullied, something I hadn’t told my parents, so the photography club was my safe haven.”

“What about your brother and sister? Didn’t they know?”

“Trevor tried to protect me from the worst of it, but Susie was younger. Nobody actually hit me, the bullying was strictly verbal. Until…until that last time.” Blythe exhaled and then her lungs seemed to lock. It was impossible to inhale again.

“Blythe? Hey, what’s going on?” Evie began to rub her back. “Please. Tell me.”

Evie’s caresses apparently cleared the obstruction. Air flowed down Blythe’s windpipe and she closed her eyes in relief. “I’d saved for almost two years and finally bought a used SLR camera. I don’t know if you can imagine how I loved that camera. It represented so much to me, creatively speaking, but also my future. I wanted to work as a photographer, to capture people and life, and this camera was the beginning.” Blythe chuckled. “I even took it to bed with me.”

Evie laughed softly. “Somehow I can picture this.”

“I’d started to think everything would be all right. Sure, the kids that targeted me were still at it, but I was beginning to feel a little at ease in the photography club. We spoke the same language, and I think even my parents saw this. I was a sophomore when I planned to go on an overnight photo trip to a nature reserve not far from here. My siblings had often been away like this, but it was the first time I was doing something just for myself. You know?”

Blythe swallowed against the memories that suddenly clogged her throat. “I was on my way to the schoolyard where the chartered bus was supposed to pick us up, when a bunch of kids from school showed up. They pulled my hair, which was even curlier then, and started the same taunts as usual. ‘You sure you’re more than twelve, Blythe?’ ‘Grown any tits the last few weeks?’ ‘Have you ever dared open your mouth and speak?’ They kept on and on. I figured if I could only make it to the schoolyard, Mr. Fowler would be there and they’d take off.” Blythe’s voice sank to a whisper. “That’s when one of the guys got hold of the strap of my camera bag. I panicked and pulled at it, and I suppose that threw them at first, since I rarely spoke up, let alone fought back.” A tear crept down Blythe’s cheek. “I pulled at my bag and yelled at the guy to let go, and that was the signal for the others to join in. One girl took my backpack and held it upside down, spilling my stuff everywhere. I didn’t care. All I could think about was my camera.”

“God, sweetie.” Evie held Blythe harder, and she was grateful, because every cell in her body seemed to be erupting.

“Then I heard a familiar voice calling out, telling the gang of bullies to let go of my camera and get lost. It was Trevor, on his way home from football practice, and I was so relieved. So much that I relaxed my grip on the camera bag. One of the bullies started swinging the bag over his head by the strap like a lasso, and then he let it fly. It landed with a horrible sound on the other side of the street.

“Trevor took one look at my tears and threw himself after the guy. What he didn’t see was the baseball bat one of the other boys in this gang pulled out. He swung at me first, nearly breaking my left upper arm. Then he went for Trevor. If I’d thought the sound of my crashing camera was bad, the sound that bat made when it hit Trevor’s head…I’ll never forget it. I can still hear that sickening crack. He fell to the ground. So very still.”

*

“Oh, God.” Evie rocked Blythe, who was slumped in her arms, trembling. “What happened then?”

“A large crowd formed. Police came. Paramedics too. They took Trevor and me to the hospital. My parents and Susie came to the ER. I had severe contusions, but no fractures. They’d pulled my hair hard enough to leave bare patches. Trevor…Trevor had a cracked skull and a massive concussion. That first night we stayed at the hospital, waiting for him to wake up. The police came to take my statement, and when my father learned how it all happened, I knew I’d reached a fork in the road.

“I was barely eighteen, and I stood there, listening to my father rant and rave, not shying away from any words as he made it clear that because of my shortcomings, my inability to get a grip and just get on with things, Trevor was fighting for his life. If I’d showed the least bit of courage through the years, he yelled, Trevor wouldn’t have had to step in. Of all his children, I was the least successful, the one he was least proud of, and it made perfect sense to him that I’d cause the disaster.”

Evie filled with rage so white-edged, she could hardly speak. “How could he?”

“His son was seriously wounded.” Blythe spoke tonelessly, as if she recounted something she’d gone over so many times in her life that it no longer meant anything. Evie knew this wasn’t the case, but the opposite. This still hurt Blythe badly and defined how she lived her life.

“You were hurt. You were a teenage girl, small for her age, and under attack by a gang of bullies. Your brother did what brothers should do. Nobody was to blame except the idiot with a bat.”

“Yes, of course.” Blythe still sounded detached. “I knew then that I no longer belonged. Not with a father who regarded me as his biggest failure, not with a mother who nearly poisoned me because she needed to fix me. I figured if I left, they’d have a chance to be the perfect family and I’d be free. I could start over somewhere else.”

“Blythe, I want to hear the rest of this, but you’re so cold. We’ve got to go inside.”

“Sure.” Blythe stood on wobbly legs.

“Whoops. Easy.” Evie held on to Blythe and supported her as they walked back to the house. Climbing the stairs, she made sure Blythe didn’t fall since she still seemed unsteady. “What do you say? Hot chocolate? Tea?”

“Tea sounds good. With honey, if you have some.”

“Sure thing. Let’s start a fire.” She placed Blythe on the couch in the living room and started a fire in the large fireplace, then quickly made two steaming mugs of Lady Grey tea and carried them back to Blythe, handing one over. The sight of how she curled up around the hot tea, clinging to the mug, made Evie’s throat ache. She sat down close to Blythe and made sure the blanket covered them both.

“Okay. Go on.”

“I made matters worse by stealing all the cash my father had in his wallet, a hundred and fifty-five dollars. I packed light, some clothes and my birth certificate, and left in the middle of the night. I went by the hospital, snuck into the ward where they kept Trevor for observation. He was conscious and doing better. I didn’t say good-bye, that would’ve worried him, but I’m sure he wondered if he was going to die, or something, since I hugged him so hard. Then I walked to the bus depot and left on the first bus. I kept going, bus after bus, until I reached New York. I never went back. I never called.” Blythe sipped her tea. “I did send the money I stole back with interest six months later, and I’ve written my mother once a year to let her know that I’m doing fine.”

“Didn’t they come looking for you?”

“I believe they did. By that time I’d changed my last name. I hoped to sell my photos, and if I did, I knew I’d have to have a byline with name and photo. I needed a new identity.”

“What was your old name?”

Blythe snapped her head up, her red-rimmed eyes suddenly sharp and penetrating. “Why are you asking?”

“It doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t. Forget I asked.”

Slowly, Blythe relaxed against the backrest. She kept looking at Evie, searching for something, perhaps traces of potential disloyalty. “It doesn’t matter. Common enough name. I used to be Blythe Murphy. Pierce is another name common in my mother’s family. I changed it a year after I came to New York.”

Evie wasn’t sure which was the hardest to witness, Blythe’s pained expression when she recollected her brother being attacked or the distant, indifferent expression she now wore. Remembering how Blythe had crawled into her bed to help protect her from the nightmares, she impulsively placed her mug on the coffee table and pulled Blythe onto her lap. “Sip more tea. You’re still cold.”

Blythe drank from her mug and then placed it next to hers. “I’m so much fun to have around, aren’t I?” She slumped sideways and rested her head against Evie’s shoulder. “I should know better than to bring up the past. Nothing good ever comes of it.”

“Regrets about telling me already?”

“Only regrets for boring you with stuff you can’t do anything about.”

“That’s not true.”

“What do you mean?” Blythe flinched and Evie tightened her grip.

“I mean, just by telling me and knowing that I understand, that I sympathize, you might feel a tiny bit better.”

Blythe pressed her face into Evie’s neck. “Perhaps a tiny bit better.” Her words were so unexpected that Evie held her breath for a moment.

“There, see? I share your reluctance for, hmm, I guess,
sharing
, but this is different. I mean, it feels different.” Evie tried to explain. “One thing is to not share with just anybody, for self-preservation. I get that. Hey, I subscribe to that myself. But to talk to a friend or, you know, someone who cares. That’s good. It should be, at least.”

“You’re a little confusing, but that’s probably because I’m exhausted.” Blythe curled up and pressed her face closer into Evie’s neck. Close enough for her to feel Blythe’s lips move against her skin when she spoke.

“Confusing? Yes, probably. Right? Definitely.” She smiled and kissed the top of Blythe’s head. “Are you hungry? Want to grab something before we go to bed?”

“No, thank you. Ben and the gang took me to a great hamburger place.”

“Oh, God. Ben. I have to text him that I’m okay.”

“Yes. I promised I’d call if you weren’t back by bedtime.”

She dug in her pocket for her cell phone but realized she was still wearing her coverall. “Damn. My cell is still—”

“It’s actually on your bed with your clothes.” Blythe’s voice started to sound slurred.

“Okay. Let’s go to bed. You’re half asleep, sweetie.” The term of endearment left her lips before she could stop it, and she frowned as it felt like she had used it earlier as well. Had she? Well, Blythe didn’t seem to object. Hearing Blythe’s breathing grow even, she sighed ruefully. Blythe didn’t object to anything because she was almost out cold. “Come on. Let’s go.” She nudged Blythe into a standing position and guided her toward the guest room by putting a hand on the small of her back.

There, she more or less pushed Blythe toward the bathroom. “Go do your thing and I’ll do mine. See you in my room. If—if our arrangement still stands?”

“Arrangement? Oh.” Blythe colored faintly. “You mean the nightmare-prevention detail. Absolutely.”