Read Online Emerald Windows by Terri Blackstock - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Terri Blackstock
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two adults who have made a business decision. It isn’t hurting anyone. It isn’t betraying anyone.”
Her voice broke off, and she felt like a kid again, begging her daddy to let her stay out past ten o’clock. It was ludicrous, and she wasn’t going to play the game any longer.
“I’ll be at the Bluejay Inn,” she said. And then she closed the door and left without looking back.
It was almost eight when Brooke checked in at the Bluejay Inn, the only motel in town. The dirty building stood in a seedy section of town across from a bar where arrests were made nightly. In the neighborhood adjoining the motel, domestic squabbles provided night-time entertainment. At least, that had been the case seven years ago, and it didn’t look as if things had changed. The class structure in Hayden was rigid and unforgiving. “Once trapped, always trapped,” Brooke’s father used to say.
She checked in, then hurried to her room, which was hot and had a musty odor from age and traffic. She realized vaguely thatshe hadn’t eaten, but the motel had no room service and she didn’t want to go out.
She lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Even the quiet of her room seemed hostile. It wasn’t fair. Nothing that had happened concerning Nick was fair. She was tired of being alone, tired of expecting the worst of people and being right.
The most intense loneliness she had ever experienced coiled in her heart, and she longed for a friend. But Nick was the only friend she had in town.
She sat up on the bed, wiped her eyes, and reached for the telephone book. She found his number and stared at it. She needed to tell him how to reach her. She didn’t want him to think she had run again.
With a trembling hand, she picked up the phone and punched out his number.
N ick had just finished eating when the phone began to ring. He picked it up mid-ring.
“Hello?”
“Nick?” Brooke’s voice sounded hollow.
Nick changed ears and propped one foot on the edge of his bed. “Brooke? Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, her tone a little too bright. “I just thought you should know, in case you had to reach me, that I’ve checked into the Bluejay Inn for the night. I’ll look for an apartment, but…”
Her voice trailed off, and Nick planted his elbow on his knee and leaned forward. “Why? I thought you were staying with your parents. Did—?” He took a deep breath and raked his hand through his hair. “Aw, no. Did you have a fight with them about working with me?”
He heard her sniff and knew she’d been crying.
“I just…felt it was better for all of us if I didn’t stay at home.”
Nick stood. “What room are you in?” he asked. “I’m coming over.”
“No, you can’t do that!”
“Why not?”
“Think about it,” she said.
He could sense the pain in her ragged breath, and he braced a hand on his windowsill and gazed out at the moonlight glittering on the canal. Instead, he saw her face, twisted in pain and distress, her soft cheeks shining with tears.
“Remember that time you got a C on your English paper?” he asked. “Remember how upset you were when you came to my class…the overachiever who hadn’t achieved? I was a good listener then, wasn’t I?”
Brooke was quiet, but he knew that she remembered the way he had set her down in the art room that day he’d caught her crying, pushed her hair back from her damp cheek, and insisted that she tell him what was bothering her. “Yes, you were,” she whispered. “And you fixed everything. You talked to Mrs. Deere and got me another chance to do the paper.”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “That’s me. The fixer.”
“I’ve always wondered what you said to her.”
Nick dropped back to his bed. “Oh, not much,” he said. “Just that you were an overachiever who saw anything less than an A as absolute failure and that I had really been working you hard in art because of your unique talent. I told her it was all
Her voice broke off, and she felt like a kid again, begging her daddy to let her stay out past ten o’clock. It was ludicrous, and she wasn’t going to play the game any longer.
“I’ll be at the Bluejay Inn,” she said. And then she closed the door and left without looking back.
It was almost eight when Brooke checked in at the Bluejay Inn, the only motel in town. The dirty building stood in a seedy section of town across from a bar where arrests were made nightly. In the neighborhood adjoining the motel, domestic squabbles provided night-time entertainment. At least, that had been the case seven years ago, and it didn’t look as if things had changed. The class structure in Hayden was rigid and unforgiving. “Once trapped, always trapped,” Brooke’s father used to say.
She checked in, then hurried to her room, which was hot and had a musty odor from age and traffic. She realized vaguely thatshe hadn’t eaten, but the motel had no room service and she didn’t want to go out.
She lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Even the quiet of her room seemed hostile. It wasn’t fair. Nothing that had happened concerning Nick was fair. She was tired of being alone, tired of expecting the worst of people and being right.
The most intense loneliness she had ever experienced coiled in her heart, and she longed for a friend. But Nick was the only friend she had in town.
She sat up on the bed, wiped her eyes, and reached for the telephone book. She found his number and stared at it. She needed to tell him how to reach her. She didn’t want him to think she had run again.
With a trembling hand, she picked up the phone and punched out his number.
N ick had just finished eating when the phone began to ring. He picked it up mid-ring.
“Hello?”
“Nick?” Brooke’s voice sounded hollow.
Nick changed ears and propped one foot on the edge of his bed. “Brooke? Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, her tone a little too bright. “I just thought you should know, in case you had to reach me, that I’ve checked into the Bluejay Inn for the night. I’ll look for an apartment, but…”
Her voice trailed off, and Nick planted his elbow on his knee and leaned forward. “Why? I thought you were staying with your parents. Did—?” He took a deep breath and raked his hand through his hair. “Aw, no. Did you have a fight with them about working with me?”
He heard her sniff and knew she’d been crying.
“I just…felt it was better for all of us if I didn’t stay at home.”
Nick stood. “What room are you in?” he asked. “I’m coming over.”
“No, you can’t do that!”
“Why not?”
“Think about it,” she said.
He could sense the pain in her ragged breath, and he braced a hand on his windowsill and gazed out at the moonlight glittering on the canal. Instead, he saw her face, twisted in pain and distress, her soft cheeks shining with tears.
“Remember that time you got a C on your English paper?” he asked. “Remember how upset you were when you came to my class…the overachiever who hadn’t achieved? I was a good listener then, wasn’t I?”
Brooke was quiet, but he knew that she remembered the way he had set her down in the art room that day he’d caught her crying, pushed her hair back from her damp cheek, and insisted that she tell him what was bothering her. “Yes, you were,” she whispered. “And you fixed everything. You talked to Mrs. Deere and got me another chance to do the paper.”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “That’s me. The fixer.”
“I’ve always wondered what you said to her.”
Nick dropped back to his bed. “Oh, not much,” he said. “Just that you were an overachiever who saw anything less than an A as absolute failure and that I had really been working you hard in art because of your unique talent. I told her it was all
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