Chapter Fourteen
Tanner’s earlier nervousness disappears as soon as we reach the truck. He opens the door for me, offering me his hand to step up to the cab. There is a moment of hesitation before I take it. Not because I don’t want to, but because I’m afraid I won’t be able to let go. As I step up to the cab, I hope Tanner doesn’t notice how tightly I am gripping his hand.
I settle into my seat easily, but Tanner doesn’t immediately release me. He looks at me as if he has something on his mind. As my heart picks up speed, I wonder what is running through his thoughts. I don’t get the chance to find out. Tanner stows away whatever he is thinking and smiles. His hand slides away from mine slowly. I watch him walk around to the driver’s side, trying to calm my racing heart.
Once we are on our way to the woods, Tanner asks, “So, did you have a good morning with your grandpa?”
“Uh, yeah.” I try to keep my voice light, but Tanner looks over at me curiously.
“That doesn’t sound very convincing. Was everything okay?”
I shift in my seat, debating on how to answer his question. “No, it was fine. It’s just that my grandpa was telling me family stories, and while I love to hear his stories, some are harder to hear than others.”
“You mean, about your aunt dying?” Tanner asks quietly.
My eyes flick over to him. “You know about that?”
He shrugs. “Sure. Everyone does. My mom was good friends with Katie. She told me about how hard it was to deal with her death. Everyone was really shocked, I guess.”
Shaking my head, I turn to look out the window. I never really thought about who else might have known Katie. This whole town probably loved her, and they remember her. It hurts to know I was never given that chance.
Still facing the window, I say, “I didn’t even know Katie existed until a few days ago. My dad never told us about her.”
“Really? That’s kind of weird.”
“That’s what I thought.” I look back over at Tanner, glad to know he found it a strange way to behave as well.
“I can’t imagine that,” Tanner says. “My dad died when I was ten. He had a heart attack. It was devastating, but in a lot of ways it still feels like he’s with us. We still have pictures of him up. We visit his grave on his birthday. We remember him.” Tanner is quiet for a moment. “I think it would hurt more not to do any of those things.”
“I think you’re right,” I say quietly. “That’s probably why my dad still can’t even talk about her.”
Tanner reaches over and squeezes my hand. He doesn’t let himself linger, but I appreciate the support more than I’m sure he realizes. The more I am with him, the less I care about whether or not Grainer is as fascinating as I thought Manhattan was. I always had a lot of friends in school, but never anyone I would call a best friend. That role always fell to David. But here in Grainer, I am finding that I’m happy to trade popularity for someone I can truly trust and open up to.
“So Evan and Jackson didn’t feel like coming with us today?” I ask in an effort to turn the topic of conversation to something a little lighter.
“They were busy,” Tanner says quickly. “Chores or something.”
“Both of them?”
“Yeah, I guess. So it’s just the two of us.” As soon as he says it, Tanner seems to realize that I might take it too mean he’s trying to get me alone with him and a hint of red spreads through his face. “I hope you don’t mind. I guess maybe I should have asked if you were okay with it just being to two of us.”
I pretend not to notice his embarrassment, which proves very easy. “No, it’s fine,” I say. “I was just teasing. Actually, I’d rather not have to listen to Evan laughing at me again.” Tanner’s easy smile returns as we fall into a comfortable silence.
Pulling up to the meadow where I first met Tanner, I am excited for the chance to spend more time with him, but the quiet allows the dreams and photos to creep back in. I wonder how I am going to make it through the rest of the afternoon. I can hardly focus on anything but this morning’s confessions once they take hold of me again. Feeling guilty about even accepting the invitation, considering my current situation, I still don’t want to show my uneasiness to Tanner.
I force myself to pretend it is a week earlier, before the dreams, before the photos, and especially before the stories. The darkness still lingers in my mind, but I find a small corner free of any other concern where I can focus. Tanner climbs out the cab and goes to the truck bed where he has the targets and bows stored. I calm my features and smile before climbing out of the pickup as well.
“Are you ready?” Tanner asks.
“I think the real question is, are you ready?” I tease. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
Tanner laughs. “You’ll do fine. Here,” he says, pulling a bow, much smaller than his own, out of the truck bed and handing it to me. “This one’s for you. My sister doesn’t use it much anymore.”
Accepting the bow, I consider its size. “Just how old is your sister? Six?”
“Well you wanted a smaller bow,” Tanner says, trying to keep his face straight.
I throw him a disgusted looked. I’m not that bad, am I?
“I’m just kidding. My sister’s thirteen. But bow length is more about height than age,” he says. “And you’re kind of short.”
“Thanks for noticing,” I grumble. His nearly six foot frame does make my minimal five foot four inches rather unimpressive. I am actually on the tall side for my family. Tanner ruffles my hair to emphasize his point. I sock him in the arm, only halfway meaning it.
“Sorry, sorry,” Tanner apologizes. The dazzling grin he gives me somewhat diminishes his sincerity. “Really, this bow will be much easier for you to draw.”
“If you say so,” is my only response.
I watch as Tanner sets up the targets toward the back of the meadow. He arranges the cubes with practiced ease and lopes back to me.
“Alright, do you remember how to hold the bow,” Tanner asks.
I consider saying no, remembering how closely he had to stand to me in order to help me last time. Bright spots of red blossom on my cheeks at the thought and I refrain. “I think I remember,” I say. Placing my hand on the riser, I notice how much lighter the new bow feels. I don’t know what to do next, unfortunately.
Suddenly, Tanner is next to me, tying a quiver of arrows around my waist. His fingertips brush my thigh as he places it around me and I have to hide a shiver. “You might need these,” Tanner says, straightening. He turns away quickly, but I can see the red in his ears. Faking a cough to cover the laugh that escapes, I don’t say anything. I am just glad I’m not the only nervous one. Tanner is proving a better distraction than I expected.
Pulling an arrow out of my quiver, I stare at it. How did this part worked again? I wonder. I played cowboys and Indians with my brother when we were younger, but my brother’s plastic bow and arrow set had been equipped with suction cup ends and a convenient hole in the bow for the arrow to slide through. Unsure of how I am supposed to keep the arrow from falling into the dirt, I turn to Tanner. “So, um, how do I get the arrow ready again?” My question seems to dispel Tanner’s awkwardness instantly.
Taking control, Tanner shows me how to grip the end of the arrow and rest the point on the top of the hand gripping the riser. His hands move mine into place, but his soft touch and radiating warmth makes my fingers slip. After several tries I manage to hold the arrow on my own, keeping it tight against the bow.
“Go ahead and try to draw it now,” Tanner says.
Unsure of my abilities, I pull back slowly. I am surprised by how easily the arrow moves this time. My mouth turns up. I pull a little harder, drawing the arrow to my ear. Pleased with my effort, I grin and turn to look at Tanner. My grip slips. The arrow flies wide of the target, darting into the trees. Wincing with embarrassment, I duck my head. Tanner laughs and I join him.
“I’ll go get it,” I say, a
bit deflated by my failure.
Setting the bow down, I trudge through the tall grass. Tanner follows me into the trees. “You might need a little help finding it,” he says. “That was a good try, though.”
I look over at Tanner’s face. He really means it. “Thanks,” I say. “At least I could pull the arrow back all the way this time.”
“You’ll get better, don’t worry,” Tanner says.
Tanner finds the arrow quickly and we head back to the meadow. Easy conversation fills any gaps during the lesson, much to my relief. I usually feel pretty at ease around guys, many of my friends back in Manhattan were guys, but Tanner has an effect on me that I am not used to.
The sun continues to make its way across the sky, lengthening the shadows as it goes. Arrows fall across the field all afternoon. Tanner often makes the target, while most of mine fly into the trees and stick into the soft dirt. I think we spend more time searching for my misplaced arrows than anything else. Tanner doesn’t seem to mind.
As we search for my last arrow, the darkness I have been trying to ignore slowly creeps from its hiding place back into my mind. The shadows under the forest canopy seem to stretch after me, grasping at my ankles. I grit my teeth and tell myself to ignore it. A mild breeze stirs my clothing, bringing the smell of smoke to my nostrils.
My eyes fly wide. Looking around, I don’t see anything that would account for the smell. The bird’s chatter becomes the cheering crowd from the dreams. Closing my eyes, I lean against a tree. The sounds and sensations from the dreams assault my mind over and over again. “It isn’t time yet,” I whisper. “Oh please, don’t let it be time yet.” My eyes burn, hot tears swelling behind my eyelids.
A hand touches my shoulder. Gasping, I nearly faint.
“Arra, are you okay?” Tanner asks, startled by my reaction.
I quickly rub my eyes, before turning around. “Yeah, sorry about that,” I say lamely. “I get scared really easy.”
He looks at me doubtfully. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m just not used to being in the woods yet. I got turned around and thought I was lost. Did you find it?” I ask casually.
“Yeah, it went a lot further than I expected. At least you’re getting better at one part of archery,” he says, his laugh timid.
“It would have been nice if I’d hit the target at least once,” I say. Still shaken from the strange ordeal, I rub my arms, trying to rid my mind of the memory. “I think I’m hopeless.”
“Nah, you’ll get it,” he smiles, “someday.” He slips the arrow back into my quiver with a flourish.
I take a playful swipe at him, glad he is near me again. Catching my hand before I can reach him, Tanner is slow to let it go. And even when he does, his arm casually swings around my shoulders. At least he tries to be casual about it. His arm is stiff around me until I lean into him. His body immediately relaxes and he pulls me a little closer. I like the idea of having his arm around me, but even more, I need to feel someone real next to me. Tanner turns me back toward the meadow, his pace slower than necessary.
“Are you hungry?” he asks.
I take a moment to consider. The shocking escape of my dreams into the real world has driven away all sensations but fear. They are slow to return, but the sinking sun reminds me that I am indeed starving.
“Yeah, I am,” I reply.
“Great, how does a burger sound?”
“It sounds perfect.”
We are back to the meadow then. The scene hasn’t changed in the few minutes we have been in the forest, but to me the fleeing peaceful atmosphere has cast a threatening shadow over the area. My expression sours, but I focus on Tanner’s arm around my shoulders and coax a faint smile back onto my lips. Our feet carry us to the edge of the meadow and Tanner’s hand slips off my shoulder, trailing down my back before leaving me completely. I instantly miss his touch and fear what will replace it.
“I’ll get the targets if you’ll throw these in the truck,” Tanner says. He hands me his bow and quiver. Taking the equipment, I hurry to the truck, eager for a few minutes alone.