The Fall of Never(88)

What did you people just do to my wife? his mind screamed. What in the world just happened here?

Marie’s hands found the small of his back. Her fingers pushed into him hard as her sobs subsided.

“Okay,” he whispered to her, “we’re getting out of here.”





Chapter Twenty


“What do you remember about the day we met?”

Kneeling on the floor in the hallway, searching through a series of water-stained cardboard boxes he had pulled from the hall closet, Gabriel Farmer looked up at Kelly. The boy he had once been briefly emerged in his features, his face looking very young and very innocent. There had always been a sense of purity in Gabriel, and such purity had somehow managed to follow him into adulthood. It conveyed a soothing element of trust, of compassion, that put Kelly at ease. He was smart and creative and talented and very good-looking. Not for the first time, Kelly wondered why he was alone in life.

“Embarrassment,” he said, grinning to himself.

“What? Why?”

“Here I am, whining like some damn baby, and then out of nowhere this beautiful young girl appears. Sneaks up on me, really. Almost gave me a heart attack. Then again, I think you might have actually saved my life that day.”

“How’s that?”

“Well,” he said, “I’m sure I would have tried to tackle that tree swing at least one more time. Who knows? I could have killed myself. In fact, I’m almost certain of it.”

“Or you could have made it to the top,” she suggested.

Gabriel shook his head. “Not a chance. Thump—right on the ground.”

Kelly laughed. “You certainly were a dumb kid,” she joked.

“Ouch. Salt in the wound now?”

She smiled. “You weren’t the only one who was hurt,” she said. “Do you remember?”

“Hurt.” He rubbed his eyes with his hands. “You mean the blood? The cut on your forehead?”

“So you remember…”

“Sure.”

“I can’t remember how it happened.”

Gabriel shrugged, occupied with his search. “Don’t really remember. We were kids playing in the woods. Kids fall and bleed.”

“We both remember how you got hurt. We remember the tree swing.”

“So?”

“I’ve just been thinking about that.”

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed. In fact, the quality of his voice reminded her now of Josh Cavey—and she suddenly hated herself for not having called him as she’d promised. Anyway, she didn’t owe Josh anything. They were just friends. They weren’t even that close. Yet, like a sharp spear to the heart, the notion pricked her: Do I love Josh Cavey? And where did that come from, anyway?

“This is from before,” Gabriel said, not looking up. “This is about finding yourself again, right?”

“I think I hate this town,” she said. “I mean it. Really hate it.”

“Welcome to my head.”

“Why don’t you leave?”

“Where would I go?”

She crouched to his side and peered inside the boxes. Gabriel smiled when he came across a large purple folder held together by rubber bands.

“Here it is.”

“You save everything.”

“Memories. Who wants to throw them away and forget about them?”

“Sometimes we don’t have a choice,” she said.

Pulling the rubber bands off and peeling back the folder’s worn cover, Gabriel presented her with a series of rough sketches and drawings done in crayon and by a child’s immature hand.

“Damn,” he said, “will you look at these? I haven’t seen these…”

“We drew them?”

“You were a stubborn student, but I eventually got you to sit down and draw. Only took some bribery. And a couple of locks and chains.”

“Which ones are mine?”

He laughed. “The bad ones.”

“Ha. Thanks, Picasso. Let me see.”

There were about twenty leaves of paper, all scrawled with swirls of Blue Sky and Brick Red and Grass Green—puerile renditions of dogs and ducks and boats on ponds and people on bicycles and trees and houses with candy roofs. It was obvious which ones belonged to Gabriel—some of the drawings showed evidence of artistic promise—while Kelly’s were merely crude imitations of the world as seen through the eyes of a small child.

“Amazing,” she said.

“I keep everything,” he said. “That’s my thing.”

“Gabe?”

“Hmmm?”

“I don’t want to insult you…”

“Uh, here it is.”

“Seriously.”

“What?”

“This town is horrible. Spires is like a bad dream. What are you doing wasting your time here? And I don’t just mean with your artwork; I’m talking about your life. This place is dead and empty and there’s really nothing here for you.”

His smile faltered and she feared she’d insulted him. She started to apologize but Gabriel only shook his head.

“I’m not insulted,” he said, “and in a lot of ways you’re right. In fact, when I had that showing in the city, I honestly considered moving there. I mean, all that inspiration every day, right? I even made some phone calls about apartments. But in the end, I wound up changing my mind.”