The Fear of Letting Go (11 page)

“Then you don't see yourself very clearly,” I say. “You are one of the most beautiful, most amazing women I've ever known.”

Her hand tightens around mine and for a moment, we're suspended a mere breath away from each other, the air between us shifting one last time as some of the walls she's built around herself fall away.

I run my thumb down her cheek, caressing her skin and wanting nothing more in this world than to pull her into my arms and kiss her.

As my lips touch hers, the power kicks back on and elevator begins to move.

Jenna

The elevator comes back to life, and I nearly have a heart attack. I spring to my feet and clutch the handrail.

My heart is pounding, and it's not just because of the sudden movement. What the hell just happened here?

It's funny. I've heard people say before that there's just something that happens when you're stuck in an elevator. As if you have no idea if you're truly going to survive the night, you begin to spill your darkest secrets.

That has to be it. That's the only explanation I can come up with for why I just told Preston all that crap about my past. It was the one thing I didn't want anyone in my new life to know about me. Well, okay, one of the things. There are more.

But Aaron's overdose and my time in rehab is a biggie.

I'm ashamed of who I was back then. Ashamed of what I did and what I let him do. He died right there beside me while I was passed out. I did nothing to help him or save him.

It's one of those deep, dark secrets I keep hidden inside and never let out into the light. Why did I tell Preston?

I glance over at him and try to read his expression. Is he completely mortified? He's staring at the numbers going by on the overhead display, counting down to the first floor. Probably can't wait to be free of crazy Jenna and her sordid past.

I honestly can't blame him.

Most of the time, I feel exactly the same way.

The elevator dings with each floor. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. The doors open and Preston's mother rushes in and throws her arms around him. I scoot around them, anxious to get the hell out of this death trap.

I am normally not afraid of elevators, as long as they work. Broken elevators? Well, that just makes me think of plunging to my death in a fiery explosion.

Outside, the rain is still coming down hard, and the sky is as dark as night even though it's only six-thirty. I wonder if the worst of the storm has passed, or if there is more to come.

“I was so worried about you,” Mrs. Wright says. She has both her hands on her son's cheeks and his face has gone beet red. “Why didn't you call us right away? I've been trying to get in touch with you for over an hour, wondering if you somehow got stuck in all this mess.”

“I had my phone off for the meeting,” Preston says. “I forgot to turn it back on.”

“Stuck in an elevator for an hour and a half and you forgot to turn it back on?” His mother clucks her tongue. “You should have called. I was worried to death.”

“Hank, here, had it all under control. Didn't you, Hank?” Preston reaches his hand out to an elderly black man with gRobing hair and a nice smile. He's wearing a blue suit with a gold name-tag.

They shake hands and Hank beams at Preston.

“Thank you, Hank,” Mrs. Wright says with a passing glance at the security guard. She turns back to Preston. “If we had known you were stuck in here, we would have rerouted everyone to get you out as fast as possible. Who knows what might have happened?”

His mother still had yet to even notice or acknowledge me, which was no surprise. Should I duck out and make a run for my truck? I feel stupid hovering here near the door, watching them.

“That's exactly why I told him not to call you,” Preston says. “How are things going out there? Any news on the damage?”

“Oh, honey, it's just terrible,” his mother says with a frown. “The Wilkes' farmhouse is completely destroyed. There's a lot of damage out that way.”

“Was anyone hurt?” he asks.

“One of the Powell children is still missing,” she says. “Their little girl, Anna.”

“She's only four years old,” Preston says.

I step closer at this news. A four year old little girl missing? I can only imagine what her family is going through right now.

“Where was she last seen?” I ask.

Preston's mom turns, noticing me for the first time.

“Oh, goodness, I didn't even see you there, sweetheart.” Her eyes drop from my face to Preston's sweater, still draped on my body. She makes a slight face, but recovers quickly.

I take a deep breath. I'm used to that kind of look.

“Mom, you remember Jenna Lewis,” Preston says. “She's a good friend of Leigh Anne's. We were stuck in the elevator together.”

His mom's eyebrow twitches, and I'm sure she's wondering why in the world I was here with her son. Wisely, she doesn't ask.

“Of course, I remember Jenna.” She reaches her hand toward me. “You're the girl who took Penny to that awful pawn shop last year.”

She says it as a matter of fact, and I cringe. We aren't exactly off to the best start. “Yes, ma'am,” I say. I have no good excuse for what I did. Hopefully she understands I was only trying to help her daughter when she needed me.

“Well, that's all in the past,” she says, a thin smile on her heavily made up face. “The little Powell girl was in her mother's arms when the tornado hit. They didn't have a storm shelter, so they were all huddled together in the hall closet when the roof was torn off the house. The force of the wind carried her little girl right out of her arms and they haven't been able to find her.”

My hand flies to my mouth and my stomach feels sick. “Oh, God,” I say.

“What can we do?” Preston says.

“Your father is meeting with some of the town council members. They're coming up with a plan to get folks back on their feet,” she says. “A few people have already headed over to the Powell house to search for the little girl. I sure hope they find her soon. It looks like we might not be done with the storms for the night.”

I pull my cell phone from my back pocket and dial Leigh Anne's number. She picks up right away. “Hey, are you okay?” I ask.

“Jenna, thank goodness, I tried to call you,” she says. “Can you believe these storms?”

“It's awful,” I say. Preston is still talking with his mother so I step toward the door. “Did you hear about the little Powell girl?”

“No, what's going on?”

“She's missing. She got carried away by the storm,” I say. “Is Knox free? I was thinking maybe we could all head over there and help them search for her.”

Preston puts a hand on my back and whispers in my ear. “Mason's already on his way in his truck,” he says. “If they want to come with us, tell her and Knox to meet us here in a few minutes.”

I turn to him, surprised he's coming to help.

“I don't think that's a good idea,” his mother says. “The storms might start back up and I don't want you and Mason out there in all this.”

“All the more reason we need to get out there looking for this girl,” he says. “Go home, Mom. I'll call you when we have news.”

She makes a deep sound in her throat and lifts her chin. “I don't know what has gotten into you and your sister both,” she says. She doesn't explain herself further. She just kisses him on the cheek and nods to a man standing in the corner. He straightens and rushes to open the door for her.

The man grabs a large umbrella that's propped up against the side of the building and holds it over her head as she walks toward the car.

We watch as his mother gets into the back of a sleek black car with tinted windows. The tall man closes the door, rushes around to the driver's seat, and takes off just as the rain begins to pour harder.

“Jenna?” Leigh Anne says through the phone. “Was that Preston's mom? Where are you?”

“Yes, sorry,” I say. “We're over here at the Fairhope Building downtown. Do you guys want to meet us over here and go looking for that little girl?”

“Of course,” she says. “Let me throw on my boots and we'll head over. Do you need anything?”

“Bring some flashlights and umbrellas if you have them,” I say. “And if you have a spare pair of boots, I'd appreciate it.”

I look over at Preston in his nice black pants, loafers, and a shirt and tie.

“Maybe bring some old jeans and boots for Preston, too, if Knox has something he could spare.”

“Sure thing,” she says. “See you in a few.”

We hang up and I stand at the doors with Preston, looking out at the heavy rain.

“I hope we find her,” I say. “Can you imagine how terrified she must be right now out there all alone in this?”

“If she's even conscious,” he says quietly.

At my side, I feel his hand slip into mine and squeeze. Warmth wells up within me. How could he have heard about my past and still even want to be around me? Have I completely misjudged him?

Or has the storm distracted him for now?

I stare out at the rain and wonder if my confession will mean the end of us before we even had a real beginning.

Jenna

Mason and Knox pull up at almost the same time. Preston opens his umbrella and we run out to greet them together.

I climb into the truck with Leigh Anne. She hands Preston a plastic bag with some clothes and boots, and a look passes between us before he closes the door and runs up to get in the truck with Mason.

Something has changed between us, and I can't tell yet exactly how, or what it means. All I know is that the more time we spend together, the more my walls start to come down. Walls I built for a reason. I watch him until he disappears into Mason's truck.

“Where are we headed?” Knox asks. “Out to the Powell place?”

“Yes,” I say. “Preston's mom said there's already a group gathered there to start looking.”

“What a nightmare,” Leigh Anne says. “Can you imagine?”

“Is everything okay at your place, Knox? That's out toward that same side of town isn't it?” He's put so much work into restoring his mother's old house. I would hate to hear that anything had happened to it.

“Yeah, but I'm trying not to think about it right now,” he says as he pulls out of the parking lot, following Mason and Preston in the other truck. “I'll head over and check it out after we find the girl and things settle down a bit. Not much I could do about it anyway, with it raining like it is.”

“Where were you guys when it hit?”

“At my apartment,” Leigh Anne says. “It didn't get too bad here in town. Just a lot of scary wind and rain. The power went out, but I think it's out all over town. What were you doing here?”

Like Mrs. Wright, Leigh Anne notices Preston's sweater right away and raises an eyebrow.

I roll my eyes. “Stop letting your imagination run away with you,” I say. “I came here to pay my electric bill. I got on the elevator and Preston got on the floor below me. The power went out and we got stuck in there for a little over an hour.”

“So much for your plan to stay far away from him,” she says with a giggle.

“You're telling me,” I grumble. “Of course someone leaked an invite to the party last night, after I told them I didn't want to see Preston for a while.”

I glare at Leigh Anne, and she looks up at the ceiling of the truck, biting back a smile.

“Maybe nature is trying to tell you something,” Knox says with a laugh. If Leigh Anne wasn't sitting between us, I would punch him on the leg.

“It was a coincidence,” I say. I don't mention the water tower last night, but yes, it does seem that there have been a lot of coincidences bringing Preston and me together lately. “Thanks for coming, by the way. It sounds like they can use as many eyes as possible out there right now.”

“Don't try to change the subject,” Leigh Anne says. “What happened in the elevator?”

“I'm just wearing his sweater because I was cold, okay? Don't make a big deal out of it.”

She throws her hands up. “Who is making a big deal? I was simply asking how it went. Did you guys talk?”

“He didn't ask me out if that's what you're getting at,” I say. I don't know why I'm so grumbly with her, except that maybe I'm a little embarrassed about what happened between us in that elevator. And last night on top of the water tower.

I never dreamed Preston would be so easy to talk to. So understanding. What does all of it mean? It's going to be hard to go back to being just friends after what we've been through.

I shake my head and stare out the side window. I can't think about that right now.

Still, the sound of his voice telling me I'm beautiful rings in my memory like a gift. I scrunch down in the seat and hide a smile at the thought, despite myself.

The Powell farm is only a few minutes outside the city limits, but it takes us nearly half an hour to get there in the pouring rain. Leigh Anne hands me an old pair of boots and I toss my sneakers onto the floorboard of Knox's truck and pull on the boots. They're a little big, but they'll do.

“Thanks,” I say.

There are about six other cars in the driveway. A small crowd is gathered on what remains of the porch. Most of the roof on one side is gone. My heart is sick just looking at the scene.

A woman in a flowered house-dress stands on the porch, her face a splotchy mess of tears. A man in overalls and boots has his arm around her. They look up as the five of us approach.

“Oh, my goodness, y'all are just such good people,” the woman says. She starts crying all over again. “I can't thank you enough.”

She buries her head in the man's overalls and he wraps his arms around her and rests his cheek against the top of her head.

They look familiar to me, and I'm pretty sure they've come into the restaurant before, with their three kids. Their little girl's face flashes in my memory, and I feel tears creep into my throat. She's a pretty little thing with long, sandy blond hair and the brightest blue eyes. She always orders grilled cheese and asks for those little cherries from the bar.

I press my lips together tightly to keep control of my tears.

“What can we do to help?” Knox asks. “Do we have a plan?”