True Places(19)
Suzanne emerged from the closet, her expression showing she wasn’t up for an argument about politics or anything else. “Anyway, like you said, Iris is definitely clueless about a lot of things, but she also has a lot of strength.”
She walked over to her side of the bed wearing one of his T-shirts. It barely covered her rear end. He immediately felt less tired than he had a moment ago.
Suzanne said, “I’m wondering if a normal life is even right for her.”
“She can’t go back to living in the woods, can she?”
“Doesn’t seem likely.” Suzanne pulled the band from her hair and shook it loose.
“No, it doesn’t. I can’t imagine why she’d want to. But all that will be up to her family, once they turn up.”
“Or her foster family.”
“Or her foster family.”
Suzanne pulled back the covers. Whit reached for her, and she slid into his arms, languid and warm. He breathed in the scent of her hair, which always smelled like something he’d like to have for dessert but had never tasted. He yawned again, desire succumbing to fatigue.
He kissed her. “Sweet dreams.”
“Sweet dreams.”
As tired as he was, his mind wouldn’t clear. He couldn’t help but think he’d missed something in the conversation about Iris, something more important than the fate of a strange girl from the woods. Whit was always on the lookout for signs that Suzanne was unhappy, but she wasn’t easy to read. Maybe after all these years he still didn’t know how to look, and he worried he might miss an underground tremor signaling something stronger, potentially devastating. He could trace the feeling back to when he’d fallen in love with Suzanne.
Mia and Malcolm’s wedding reception had been winding down. The newlyweds had left two hours before, and the older guests had soon followed. The cover band had left the stage, the keyboard having been taken over by Malcolm’s brother, who knocked out seventies hits. The small drunken crowd sang along, slurring the lyrics but holding on to the tune. A few couples swayed on the dance floor, energized into unsteady flailing by an up-tempo number. Almost everyone left was someone Whit knew from high school, although he’d seen only a few of them since graduation seven years before.
Whit and Suzanne sat on the floor at the back of the ballroom. They had been talking, dancing, and drinking as part of a larger circle the whole night. Whit had been surprised to learn that Suzanne had been living at home for eighteen months. Given the friends they had in common, it seemed odd they hadn’t run into each other before now.
From his vantage point on the floor, Whit spied a champagne bottle under a nearby table and crawled over to retrieve it.
“Look at that. Half-full.” He moved to fill her glass but she covered it with her hand. He filled his own.
“I see you’re an optimist.”
He smiled at her. He knew he was drunk but still could not get over how pretty Suzanne was. She had been two grades below him, so he didn’t remember much about her from high school except she had seemed aloof, almost icy. Was she softer now, or was he just smashed?
“I am indeed. And I could use some air.” He stood and extended his hand. “Care to stroll the fairways with me?”
“I’ve lost my shoes.” Suzanne lifted her bare foot for his inspection.
He resisted the urge to take it in his hands and kiss her toes. “Does it matter?”
Outside the air was crisp for late May, and a damp mist stretched out before them, illuminated by pale light falling from the high ballroom windows. Whit whistled as they walked onto the fairway, picking up the chorus of “Maybe I’m Amazed” drifting from the ballroom. The fresh air felt great. He felt great with this beautiful girl by his side.
Suzanne rubbed her arms. She was barefoot in the wet grass and wore only a gauzy sleeveless dress. Whit realized he hadn’t been very considerate and stopped, touching her arm.
“I left my jacket inside. Wait here and I’ll run and get it for you.”
“No, that’s okay.”
“I’ll be right back.” He sprinted off, enjoying the feel of working his legs.
Suzanne’s cry—a yelp of pain and surprise—reached him as he set foot on the patio. He whirled around to see her collapse to the ground at the border of where the light fell. He sprinted back. She was clutching at her chest. He knelt at her side and saw her eyes were wide with fear.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” His thoughts swirled. It didn’t look like a seizure. He shouted for help but the music drowned out his cries.
Suzanne’s breath came in gasps, and her features were twisted in agony. Whit scooped her off the grass, holding her to him. Her heartbeat was wild and her body tense. He came to his feet, clutching her firmly, afraid of dropping her or slipping. As he carried her toward the building, her breathing slowed and she relaxed a little.
“It’s all right,” she said, catching her breath. “You can put me down.”
He lowered her but kept his hand on her back. “What happened?”
She looked away. “Please. I just want to go home.”
“Are you sure? Not the hospital?”
She shook her head.
A taxi dropped them at the Royces’ mansion south of town. Suzanne had told Whit she was staying with her parents until she figured out what to do next. Mia had told him Suzanne had been in Africa doing research, but when he’d asked Suzanne about it, she’d changed the subject. He didn’t think anything of it. As for staying with her folks, who wouldn’t want to live in this gorgeous place?