One Step Closer(26)

She had to go to Denver. And, she had to go now. For a split second, Wren worried that things would still be awkward and strained between Caleb and her considering the last time they’d seen each other, but she hoped they would fall into the easy closeness they’d always shared before…? Well… before. So much time had gone by; maybe things between them would be healed.

“You know Caleb, Wren. He’s always been strong, but I’m not sure this has hit him yet. He’s been pretty stoic,” Jonathan replied.

“That’s what I’m afraid of. I’ll get there as soon as I can,” she said.

Wren was worried about Caleb. Even in those times when she was spitting mad at him, completely hated him, never wanted to see him again, or he’d crushed her heart… she worried about him. And, she loved him. There was no denying it, and she’d stopped fighting it years before. She’d tried to build a life without him, but even so, she still loved him more than anything. She could convince Caleb to the contrary, but she couldn’t lie to herself. He’d saved her life; and she’d saved his. He was the one man she measured all others against, and they’d all fallen short. Even Sam.

“Thank you, Jonathan.”

As she hung up the cell phone and tossed it on the bed near her purse, her breath caught on a sob. Unspeakable sadness for the man who had died, and for Caleb, engulfed her as she bent at the waist, catching herself by one hand pushing into the mattress. Wren cried hard for both of those losses, sobs wracking her small frame for a good ten minutes.

Finally, she gathered her composure, took a quick shower to rid her skin of sunscreen, dressed quickly, and finished packing. She called her friends to tell them she was leaving, and within an hour was at the United Airline ticket counter forking over her passport and a credit card.

Wren spent the next twelve hours traveling and thinking. A young girl, traveling with her parents from Los Angeles to New York, sharing Wren’s final leg to Denver where they were making a connection and recognized Wren from her lead role in the U.S. tour of Cinderella a year before. The girl’s chatting and obvious excitement helped to take Wren’s mind off of the sadness.

She wore no make-up and looked far younger than her twenty-four years, her luxurious blonde curls pulled up in a loose, messy bun. Her blue eyes were tired, and her iPod was shoved into the lightweight hoodie she’d taken to wear on the plane. Once her plane landed and she made her way into the main terminal and past the security checkpoint, Wren saw a large man dressed in his black chauffeur uniform, holding a cardboard sign with her name on it. He’d told her his name and picked up her bags without added small talk and soon she was falling asleep in the backseat of the limousine, she assumed Jonathan had hired to pick her up.

Without going home to New York, she only had what she’d taken on her vacation, and it hit her that she didn’t have anything appropriate to wear.

She’d cried for the first twelve hours after she’d learned of Edison’s death, hiding behind her sunglasses and plastering her face against the inside of the airplane. Thank God for her window seat.

When the limo pulled into the neighborhood of the magnificent Luxon home, Wren sat up and tried to do some damage control to her appearance, using her phone’s reverse camera mode to look at her face. She looked like hell, and after a minute put the phone away in acceptance. It wouldn’t matter to Caleb, anyway. He’d seen her at her worst, and this was hardly the time to worry about it. It was just before noon, Denver time, and she’d have jet lag for a day or two, at least. Her eyes were tired and she couldn’t stop a yawn.

As the limo drove around the circle drive in front of the big house, Wren’s hand rose to touch the gate locket that was always nestled under her clothes, except when she was on stage. It was a small pendant consisting of three layers that were connected by one hinge at the top. The top one was filigree made from 18 karat gold and embedded with a scattering of diamonds in the ornate design that swung over the two others behind it. Each one held a picture of Caleb, one when he was a baby and another, a candid of him from high school she’d placed there. The three gates hung on a long fine gold box chain; the diamond cut making it glisten in any type of light.

Wren’s fingers traced the outline of it, subconsciously making sure it was still safe, as she so often did. It was precious; so precious. Only one other person knew it was there, nestling against her skin, and he meant even more than the locket.

She took note of a white Toyota Camry with Colorado plates. She assumed it was Caleb’s rental because Edison usually drove a Mercedes and housed them in the big garage at the back of the house. Though she hadn’t been back for two years, she doubted her stepfather would ever leave a vehicle in front of the house, despite the gated property.

The air smelled fresh, even though Denver was nestled on the eastern edge of the mountains and at times pollution settled over the city in a brown haze. Today was not like that.

For the past couple of years, Wren’s life was busy and full, and she didn’t spend much time thinking about the time she spent under her mother’s vicious control. Looking at it, she had to admit there were several fond memories of this house, of Edison, and of course, Cale.

It was in this house there were a lot of firsts between her and Caleb.

She stopped her thoughts, and began to pull her suitcase up to the door. The fine cobblestone in the driveway was beautiful, but it made it hard to pull the heavy bag because the wheels got stuck in the crevices between the stone more than once.