The Soul Seekers (5 page)

“Why should you be scared? Do
I
scare you?”

“No.”

“We did just meet. I could be a really evil guy, you know. This is where I take my victims. I grab them like this,” he grabbed my leg, “and pull them to the edge,” he started to yank me down, “and then I thrust them out into the abyss.”

I whipped my leg out of his grasp and stood up.

“I almost fell off here the other day.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. There was this coin I found. I was about to throw it, lost my balance, and had to hold onto the cliff.”

Jesse stepped up behind me. “Coin?”

“Mm-hmm. For a split second I thought, ‘I’ll let my-
self drop and end it.’ Then I thought, ‘Not here. Not in Springvale.’”

“Can I see it?”

I reached into my purse, extracting the billfold. One flip of the metal clasp and copper flashed out against the skin of our faces. I handed it to him. “Does it feel weird to you? Like cold or anything?”

“No.” He was the one who looked nervous now. “Wow. The holy grail. Emma, can I keep this? I know a guy at a—a pawn shop that’ll give you some sweet money.”

I hesitated.

“I mean, it’s up to you. But really, sweet money.” He turned it back and forth, glancing up with an agitated expression. “Don’t trust me?”

I shrugged. “It’s just a stupid coin. You can have it.”

Jesse looked at it some more, and I watched as his fingers squeezed around the metal. His eyes seemed to close in some sort of battle. “No, no. Here.” He handed it to me quickly. “I don’t want it!” He went over and kicked at the boulder with his boot tip.

“What, Jesse? Honestly you can have it.”

“No! Put it the hell away.
Now
.”

“Okay.” I slipped it back into its place in my wallet and pulled my purse back around my shoulder.

“Come here.”

I walked over to stand in front of him, rubbing my arms against the sudden breeze which had picked up.

His hands reached out to gently close around my shoulders. When he spoke, his voice was light, different. “Ever been kissed, Emma?”

I swallowed hard. “More than once.” And more than that, if one counted my hallucinatory contact inside the gazebo. I couldn’t believe it had come to this: Going from make-believe to real, standing up on a bluff with a dangerous boy, about to be kissed.

Jesse bent over to meet his lips with mine and opened them with a gentle pressure. I relaxed into his hold, trying to give the kiss every chance it deserved. There were no flashes of exciting chill or hot fire melting deep into my soul. It was okay, but not the same as the night in the gazebo.

I pulled away.

“What? Still scared?” Jesse asked.

“No, it’s just that I kind of already like someone else.”

“Who?”

“Oh, nobody. It’s all in my head, really. We’ve never even spoken to each other.”

“You’ve never spoken and yet you think you love him?”

I laughed. “I didn’t say I
loved
him.”

My sandaled toe ran a circle through the gravel below. I did love William. Oh God, William. Just thinking his name made me go all quivery.

Jesse stepped forward to kiss me again. “I’ll make you forget him.”

“Impossible.”

“Really?”

Hot lips touched mine, opening them again with much more intensity. Jesse moved his hands up to clasp at my face, holding me firm, and I felt his tongue run along my bottom lip, moving delicately inside to tease my own. I recalled the moment under the gazebo when someone, something had touched me so sweetly that it changed everything. I could still hear him speaking my name:
Emma, Emma.

“No Jesse,” I whispered, leaning back to break away from his hold. “I can’t, please.”

Air rushed out of his nostrils and in silence he backed away to head toward the plateau’s edge, his stance full of hostility. Running a hand through his hair, he looked out past the vantage point without speaking.

For some stupid reason I felt the need to apologize. “I’m sorry.”

When he looked back at me, there was fire in his eyes, so much that it caused me to jump a little in reaction.

“You will be. I was the only one you could count on in this town, Emma.”

When it was time for lunch I grabbed a huge book on Springvale from the reference shelf along with a map of American highways and headed toward the break room.

“Pipes rusted through last night,” Ethel shot out. “Can’t use the break room today. You’ll have to go outside or take a seat in the back corner.”

“The back corner?” I asked.

“Yep. Take your pick.”

Sheets of rain flowed down the front windows. I considered racing across the square to sit in the gazebo. I wanted to avoid William and the back corner and remembering that night and what had happened, or hadn’t happened, depending on how you looked at it.

“I’ll take the back corner,” I said at last.

“Good choice.”

No, it wasn’t. It was a horrible choice.

A chair was pushed out for me. I looked at it for a moment. Why would he do that? Mr. ‘I’m-leaving-town-without-telling-anybody’? Mr. ‘I’ll-listen-to-you-bleed-your-heart-out-and-just-ignore-you’? With a sigh of agitation I sat down and plopped everything across the wooden surface, not being careful where any of it landed. I almost knocked over his perfect stack. The thought made me smile.

I pulled the billfold from my purse and filled out a withdrawal slip. My final paycheck would make an appearance at the Springvale Savings and Loan in the very near future, to be cashed and not deposited. As for the Ford, the address listed was a part of town I’d never been; I opened the reference book to search its location.

“421 South Halstead,” I read aloud, running my finger along the map.

“Bridge is out. Besides, the car’s a piece of junk. She’d better not waste her money.”

Dear lord, was he honestly still going to play with me this way?
I get it, I’m the fawn, the newbie in town, and you’re bored. I invaded your sacred little spot every day, and you decided to have some fun. I’m leaving. Don’t waste any more time with the game.

I looked up to see him reading his book again.

I wrote down the street connections and placed that on top of the ad. It was time to map out my trip. I’d take Highway 64 to I-70 in St. Louis and follow it all the way through Kansas into Colorado. A few hours after that, I’d be staring at Pikes Peak.

Time was running short, so I grabbed my things and rushed to the front desk.

“Ethel, is it okay if I take a long lunch today? I might as well get this check cashed and go see about the car before it’s too late.”

“Yeah, go ahead. Told you, anything to get you out of here.”

“Thanks.”

I couldn’t help it; I looked toward the back corner.
Good-bye, William Joe Bennett.

¤ ¤ ¤

Rain had washed out the little wooden bridge connecting Halstead to Shady Grove. The Pontiac sat at an idle, three feet from the rut, and I sat at the wheel, totally frustrated. Mom had put up a fight over me withdrawing everything from my savings, but it was my money, I’d earned it, and she, by law, had to give it to me. The Springvale Savings and Loan was the only financial institution in town, and there was my mother, the only teller behind the counter.

In the end, I won. The money sat in a thick envelope inside my purse, and I was determined to get that car. Rain or no rain, bridge or no bridge, I would make this plan work.

Stepping out onto a soupy gravel road, I locked the Pontiac and made my way across the lopsided bridge, then walked the rest of the way to the address I’d written on a crumpled piece of paper. I would pay for the car and tell them to hold it for me and come back for it tonight.

The house was falling apart old, with peeling white paint on warped, rotted wood siding. I stepped up to the front porch, which bowed a little under my feet, and rapped a few times on the screen door.

A set of footsteps lumbered slowly, stopping just short of the entry. “Yeah?” The door opened a crack.

“I’m here to see the car. The one in the ad?” I held up the paper, now soaking wet.

“All right. Let me get my jacket.” The older gentleman was tall and thin, dressed poorly in gray slacks and a stretched white t-shirt. Beige slippers barely clung to his feet and hair puffed out strangely from a balding head. He came out to the porch to look me over. “It’s in the garage.”

I followed him out and waited while he opened the wide garage door to let us inside.

I tried not to show my disappointment. What did I expect for five-hundred dollars?

“Nice,” I lied, running my hand over the rust-patched front hood.

“She’s a good vehicle. Hardly ever been driven. My wife died last year and it’s been sittin’ here waiting for me to decide if I could sell ‘er. Hate to do it, but seein’ as to how I mostly walk, what with that bridge always out.”

I cringed.

“You got the money?”

“Yeah, it’s right here.” I reached into my purse and handed him the cash.

“Fine, fine. Well, don’t you want to start it, see how it runs?”

“Oh! Of course.” I tried the driver’s side door handle and had to yank hard at the stubborn chrome.

“She sticks once in a while. Lift it a little to the left.”

I did, and the door opened. Wide vinyl seats crackled under my body, cobwebs dangled from the rearview mirror. The steering wheel was a large ordeal, with corded leather and hand gear at the side. He handed me the key and I shoved it into the ignition, cranking to get the thing started.

It coughed, it spit, it rumbled. And then it died.

“Try again. She don’t like bein’ woken up like that.”

I cranked the key once more, feeling relief as pistons fired up. She was loud.

“You get some new oil in her and she’ll be runnin’ better than this, believe me.”

I saw visions of a highway flash before the windshield. “Do I sign anything?”

“Lord no. Her title’s in the glove box, and I got your money. A handshake is all you need around these here parts.”

I smiled and held out my hand. “Is it okay if I leave the car here until I get a ride back? I left my grandmother’s out by the bridge, so. . . .”

“That’ll be fine. She’s used to sittin’ here anyway.”

I turned off the engine and got out. “Well then, I’ll be back later.”

I made my way down the sinking road again, cursing the rain, but happy to see the old Pontiac when I turned the last corner by the bridge. Ideas were crisscrossing in my head on how to make it all happen. I’d hire a tow-truck, or find somebody, anyone, that could help me out.

“Ethel,” I said ten minutes later, making a beeline to the front desk, hair dripping everywhere. “Can I have the rest of the day off?”

She nodded, and I rushed back out through the door after a quick, “Thanks!”

The local garage was closed, so I drove around looking for another place that might be of help. Nothing. As I drove by Phil’s Records, I noticed the Camaro parked out front. I pulled in next to it. Time to kiss some ass.

Jesse was unpacking new arrivals when I walked in to the store. He didn’t bother to look up, just kept sliding records out of plastic wrap and into their appropriate bins.

I whispered, “Hi.”

“Hi. You look like hell.”

“Thanks, it’s the new style. Really wet hair, muddy jeans. I’m totally hip now, right?”

A laugh escaped his lips. “What do you want, Emma?”

God, this was harder than I thought. “I—I need you to help me. There’s this car out on Halstead that I just bought, but the bridge is out. The guy said it’s always like that, but I thought maybe if someone helped me, we could get it fixed, or maybe we could hire a tow-truck to pull the car over. Do you know anyone that drives a tow-truck?”

“Can’t say I do.”

“Can you help me fix the bridge?”

“Well, as you can see, I’m currently working. So no, I can’t help you go fix a stupid bridge. Emma, this has to be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Why in the hell would you buy a car from someone when you can’t even get it out?”

Tears were beginning to flow, making me oh so mad at myself. He was right; it was an incredibly stupid plan. “Because I’m desperate to get out of here.”

“Like I ain’t?”

I turned away, knowing sobs were about to rip through my chest and I was no expert at crying. It would be messy.

“Come here.” He grabbed me and turned me back to face him. “Come here. God.”

His arms came around me, holding me close, stroking the wet mass of hair that fell down all the way to my waist.

“I’ll go with you and help you get your money back. Does that sound okay?”

I nodded.

“Let me go speak to Phil.”

Jesse left me by the register while he went to the back store room. I looked out the window to the rain-drenched world, thinking how the weather was almost as pathetic as I was; letting loose for no reason and with no hope for sunlight. I wanted sunlight—I still believed it existed, somewhere. If only I could find a way to get to it.

Jesse sauntered out, a leather jacket draped over his arm. “Phil’s docking my pay every second I’m gone, we gotta make it quick.”

He didn’t hold the passenger door open for me but got in his side and waited for me to do the same. I was fine with that. I knew where he stood and what to expect of him. Jesse was no gentleman, but he was helping me out and that made him ten times better than most guys on earth.

“Halstead,” he said, turning onto Oak off of Main. “It’s probably Old Jenkins. That guy, lord, Emma. I can’t believe you went all the way out there. He’s probably already put the money in his mattress, and you don’t want to see that thing.”