"Hey, Ten. I'm so sorry. I was watching her. I just took a damn shower. Are you almost home?"
"Yes, and don't be sorry, Marlo. You and I both know it wasn't your fault. I'm okay. I promise. Do you need me? I could probably figure out a way to get there . . ."
"No. It's my turn. You stayed here last time. You even missed school. And I don't have to work until Tuesday. I'm just sorry you'll spend the holiday alone. We might be here for a few days. I didn't even think about Christmas until I got here and saw the tree in the lobby."
"I'm good. Don't worry about me. I love you." We both knew Christmas didn't mean much in our trailer anyway. It was just another day.
"I love you, too, baby sis. Oh hey, they need me to fill something out. Call me here if you need anything, okay? I'll be curled up in the waiting room, but I'll check for messages at the nurses’ station."
Well, at least she'd be warm in the waiting room. "Okay. Bye, Mar."
"Love you."
I paused for a second, staring at the phone and when Kyland looked at me questioningly, breathing into his hands to warm them up, I said, "They're okay. Settled in. They'll be there through Christmas, which . . . well," I straightened up, taking in a deep breath, "that's just the way it is." I was silent again, considering something. I picked up the phone book again and looked up a number in Evansly, and then dialed it. It rang twice and then a man's voice answered.
"Hi, Doctor Nolan? Sam?"
"Yes? How can I help you?"
I cleared my throat. "This is Tenleigh Falyn . . . I, shoot I . . ." I suddenly had doubts. Marlo would kill me. What was I doing?
"Tenleigh, what's wrong?" He sounded tense.
"I . . . well, our mama, uh . . . had an incident and well, Marlo's at the hospital with her and I just thought, I mean, I wondered if you'd want to . . ."
"I'm putting my jacket on, Tenleigh. Which floor is she on?"
"The twelfth." I knew it by heart.
He was quiet for a second. "The mental ward?"
"Yes," I whispered, closing my eyes, shame making me doubt what I was doing again. "I know you're a dentist, not a doctor, but I thought . . . God, I don't even know. I'm sorry. It's Christmas Eve." I glanced at Kyland who was watching me closely as I fumbled my way through the phone call.
"You did the right thing. At the very least I can go and keep Marlo company. Are you okay?"
I released a breath. "Yes, I'm fine. And that's really nice of you," I said. And I said it squeakily. Gratitude overwhelmed me.
Kyland's face grew concerned, but I nodded at him, letting him know everything was good.
"I'm really glad you called me. Thank you, Tenleigh."
"Okay, thank you. Truly, thank you. Bye, Sam."
I hung up and took a deep, calming breath. Marlo would likely murder me, but I felt good about what I'd done. Maybe Marlo didn't want to date him, but he was a nice guy. I had a good feeling about him. And everyone could use a nice friend or two, right?
"That was a friend of Marlo's," I said to Kyland. "I just called him to see if he would go sit with Marlo. The floor my mama's on, it's not the most pleasant of places."
He nodded sadly, and we set off up the hill. I was glad Kyland didn't ask me any questions at that moment—I wasn't quite ready to say any more. Half an hour later, we were at my trailer, where I threw the door open and we hurried in. At least Marlo had closed the door before running after mama or it'd be freezing inside. Our breath still plumed in the air. I turned on the two small portable heaters we had, although I knew it'd be a while before our drafty old trailer felt even remotely comfortable. I started stripping my wet boots off and when I looked up at Kyland, he was standing by the doorway uncomfortably.
"You should get dry," I said. "I mean . . . unless you need to get home. Oh!" I slapped my forehead. "You need to get home. Your mama . . ."
He shook his head. "No. My mama's fine. She's not waiting up for me. I just . . . I wish I could offer you a ride to the hospital. Will your sister need you there?"
I threw my boots aside and started peeling off my wet socks, still shivering. "No. We . . . take turns. It's what we do." I said. I didn't offer more than that, but Kyland nodded as if he understood, removing his shoes and socks, too. We took off our coats and I tossed him a blanket folded up on the couch where I slept. I pulled one around me as well and settled back, nodding to the spot next to me.
He hesitated for a second, but then sat down and pulled a blanket around himself, too.
"I like your tree," he said, nodding at our small Christmas tree. I smiled. We'd cut it down ourselves. It was small and we didn't have a lot of decorations, but we had a string of white lights and I loved them. Somehow, even our small, dingy trailer looked pretty in the glow of those twinkle lights.
"Thanks."
We were quiet for a minute before he spoke. "Tenleigh, I’ll understand if you don't want to talk about it, but if you do . . ."
I sighed. "My mama? You mean what's wrong with her?"
He nodded, but his eyes were tender.
I pulled the blanket more tightly around me, finally feeling warm. The wind whistled mournfully through the trees outside.
"My daddy brought her here when she was pregnant with Marlo. He left when I was three days old. Walked right out the front door of this trailer and never looked back."
"Shit, I'm sorry."
I shook my head. "Don't be. Not for me at least. I never knew him, and after what he did to my mama, I'm glad I didn't."
"Is that what . . ." Kyland paused, seeming to be searching for the right words.
"Made her the way she is?" I shook my head. "No. I mean . . . maybe it made her worse, I don't know, but my mama, she's always been up and down . . . delusional sometimes. The doctor in town who prescribes her medication says she has a depressive disorder, but I'm not sure. It seems like a little more than that and he doesn't seem to know what he's talking about anyway." I looked down, feeling exposed. I'd never discussed any of this with anyone except Marlo.
"My mama met my daddy at one of her pageants. She used to be a beauty queen—her big claim to fame was the Miss Kentucky Sunburst win." I laughed a humorless laugh and then was quiet for a minute before continuing. "Anyway, my daddy was working as part of the lighting crew and they fell madly in love. Or at least that's what my mama says. She came from a good family, but when she told them she was pregnant and running off with a tattooed boy from a small mining town, they disowned her. She's tried to contact them over the years, but they won't even take her calls." I shook my head. "He moved her here, worked at the mine for a couple years, decided a wife and family didn't work out so well for him, and hit the road. That was that." I brushed my hands together indicating what my daddy had done with us. Brushed off, brushed aside.
Kyland was looking at me in a thoughtful way, not as if he felt sorry for me, but as if he understood and just accepted. It spurred me to continue.
"What happened with your mama and Edward Kearney?" he asked.
I pursed my lips. "They started having an affair when I was eight and Marlo was eleven. He told her he was going to leave his wife, take care of us, move us into his big house in town. My mama, she thought he was some sort of savior."
"Are you sure that's true? I mean, if your mama sort of has a skewed . . ."
I shook my head. "That's what he told her. This trailer is small, the walls are thin." I looked at him pointedly.
His eyes widened. "He came here?"
"Yup. All the time."
He ran his hand through his hair, his lips pressed together. "Jesus. What a fucking pig." He looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn't.
"He liked it, I think. Coming here. I could see it in his eyes. It gave him some sort of weird thrill. He'd leave money on the table before he left."
Kyland made another disgusted sound in his throat.
"Anyway, this went on for a couple years. He used my mama like she was a whore. She thought she was his beloved." I shook my head again
. "One year, my mama dragged us into town to confront him and his wife. The three of us walked eight miles to his house, knocked right on his front door. I was so humiliated." I looked to the side, running my index finger along my lower lip, the despair of that moment coming back to me. I didn't want to meet Kyland's eyes. Kyland remained quiet, waiting for me to continue.
"Edward, he came to the door, and when my mama told him why she was there, he spit on her." I turned my eyes to Kyland's. "He spit on her," I repeated. "And then he slammed the door in her face." I looked off behind Kyland, picturing the way the sky was a deep, twilight blue, picturing the look of devastation on my mama's face, picturing the dust our shoes kicked up as we walked silently home, looking down the whole way.
"Tenleigh . . ." he whispered. "I'm so sorry."
I nodded. "It's just the way it is, I guess."
"No wonder you swore off men," he said with a small smile.
He was teasing me affectionately. I smiled back. "That's why it's a good thing we're just friends."
He chuckled. After a second he asked, "Do you feel weird about applying for the scholarship with Edward Kearney being the administrator and all?"
I shrugged. "Not really. Tyton Coal awards it. He's just the face for it. And if it helps me get out of here, I'm willing to set aside any pride I might have about that."
He nodded, looking thoughtful, his eyes focused downward.
After a few beats, he brought his eyes to mine. God, he was so handsome. Our gazes met and held. I blinked, warmth unfurling in my belly. "Do you want some hot chocolate?"
"Uh, yeah, sure."
I got up, the blanket still around me and went to the small kitchen at the front of the trailer. Kyland followed me, his blanket around him as well. As I went about boiling water, Kyland watched me, leaning his hip against the small doorway. I looked away, concentrating on my task. His masculinity suddenly seemed to fill the trailer. Maybe it was because I wasn't used to having a male share my space, or maybe it was just because I was hyperaware of him in general. And I hated that. I hated it because we were friends. I'd declared it myself. After he'd told me he'd never kiss me again, true. But if we weren't going to kiss then it was either friends or nothing. I took a deep breath and poured the hot water into the two mugs I'd already poured the hot chocolate mix into. I turned off the hotplate and then handed one of the mugs to Kyland. Our hands brushed when he took the handle from me and our eyes both darted upward. "Sorry," I whispered.
"For what?"
I blinked. "Um . . ." For not being able to stop wanting you to kiss me until I'm breathless. For not being able to stop thinking about the way you tasted. For wondering if I'll ever feel the same thrill again that I felt when your lips first touched mine. For lying and pretending I'm happy just being your friend. "For making it so hot." My eyes moved down to the mug in his hand.
"Hot is good. It'll warm us up."
I nodded, scooting past him. I needed some space. What I really needed was a blast of frigid winter air in my face, but I wasn't willing to freeze myself again now that I was finally getting warm.
What did friends do?
"So . . . do you want to play Scrabble or something? I have a few old board games. They were my dad’s."
"Sure. What do you have?"
"Uh, let me look." I went over to a small closet and peered inside at the top shelf. It'd been forever since Marlo and I had played a board game. Suddenly, it sounded like a really fun idea. "Scrabble . . . Uno . . . Monopoly . . ."
"Monopoly!" Kyland said, enthusiastically. I laughed and reached for the game.
I sat on the couch and Kyland sat down next to me. I pulled the coffee table closer to us and started setting it up, putting the money tray in front of me so I could be the banker, and handing him the real estate cards.
"I'd rather be the banker," he said.
I frowned. I was always the banker. But he was my guest after all. I handed him the tray of money.
"And I'm always the shoe," he continued.
Well, that was unacceptable. "I'm always the shoe," I informed him.
"Oh no, uh uh. I'm always the shoe."
"Why would you want to be the old, grungy-looking shoe anyhow? Don't you want to be the luxury car?" I raised an eyebrow at him, trying to fake him out as I held the car up and swept my hand toward it in a lofty presentation.
"No. The shoe represents hard work. And hard work leads to riches. I'm always the shoe."
I raised my eyebrows.
"Why do you want to be the shoe?"
"Because the shoe looks unassuming. No one expects the shoe to come from behind and win it all. Everyone keeps a watchful eye on the luxury car . . . but not the shoe. That guy, he flies right under the radar, or walks as the case may be." I winked.
Kyland laughed, looking pleased. "I like that answer. I say we roll for it."
I grinned. "Deal."
I rolled first. Four.
Kyland rolled second. Three. He laughed. "All right. You're the shoe. Fair and square."
An hour later we had survived a stock market crash, were deeply involved in several land deals, and had passed "Go" more times than I had kept track of. Kyland was winning and I was not happy. I landed on another of his damn railroads.
He laughed and my eyes snapped up to his. "What's so funny?"
"I never would have guessed you to be so competitive, Tenleigh Falyn." He grinned, quite pleased with himself.
"Hrrmph," I grunted, counting out money for the railroads.
"Monopoly tip: always buy the railroads first."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "You're not winning so much that you get to give me winning strategy advice just yet, mister." I paused. "I never buy the railroads. Railroads are boring."
"Well, you should. Compared to the other properties, the flow of revenue from the railroads is more constant over time. Owning all four of them is a cash cow. You can use them to fund your other monopolies."
I glanced up at him, pausing. I tilted my head. I knew he was working toward the scholarship, but I hadn't realized just how smart Kyland really was. And suddenly it hit me—he couldn't stay here. He had to get out if he was going to utilize those smarts of his. Something that felt like deep sadness filled me, but I was confused. Being smart was not a sad thing—especially with the lack of it going on in Dennville, Kentucky.
"I shouldn't be giving you all these tips, but obviously," he swept his hand over the board indicating the fact that he was winning, "you could use them."
I laughed. "Asshole," I muttered. He laughed, too.
An hour after that, I was utterly bankrupt and practically seething. Kyland couldn't keep the amusement off his face. It was maddening.
Really, though, I hadn't had that much fun in forever.
"All right—I concede. You've officially wiped me out and hung me up to dry. Congratulations." I picked up the board and dumped the pieces into the box as Kyland laughed.
"If you're lucky, I'll give you a rematch."
"Hmmph."
There was a knock on my trailer door and I looked up, confused.
"Who is it?" I called.
"It's Buster."
"Buster . . ." I said, rushing to the door and opening it, a blast of icy air making me step back. "Get in here." Buster West was my neighbor, one of the oldest on the hill, a strange, but kindhearted guy who would bring us rhubarb by the basketful in summer.
"Hi there, Missy," he said, smiling and pulling his hood down.
"What are you doing out in this weather, Buster?"
"Just came to drop off a Christmas gift." He looked over at Kyland.
"Buster, do you know Kyland Barrett? He lives down the hill—"
"I surely do. Hi, son. How's your mama?"
"Hi, sir. Uh, she's okay. Doesn't get out much, you know."
Buster frowned. "No, don't reckon she does." He looked at Kyland for just a beat too long. What was that about? I looked over to Kyland and he had his hands in his pockets and was look
ing down at the floor.
"Ah, so, here you go." Buster held out something wrapped in white tissue paper. I took it from him.
"You didn't have to do this." I smiled uncomfortably, shifting on my feet. I knew exactly what this was and I didn't want to open it in front of Kyland. But Buster was standing there looking so pleased and expectant, so I unwrapped the tissue and held up the piece of whittled wood, trying my best not to cringe. I couldn't help the heat I felt making its way up my neck, though. Buster was a pornographic whittler. As far as I knew, he was making his way through the Kama Sutra. This one featured a woman kneeling in front of a man, giving him a blowjob as he yanked on her hair, his head thrown back in ecstasy.
Well.
"Wow, Buster. This is . . . very . . . romantic."
Kyland made a strange choking sound in the back of his throat and began coughing.
Buster smiled dreamily. "That it is," he said. But then his face grew concerned. "How's Annabelle?" he asked, referring to my mama.
"She's in the hospital again."
He nodded. "I figured. Saw her ripping out of here in that sash. I came straight across to get Marlo," he said, putting the "t" on the end of the word across as mountain folks did. "Poor girl was in the shower." He shook his head. "Glad they're gettin' her patched up."
Well, that was one way to put it. I just nodded. "Oh hey, I have something for you, too," I said, reaching for a small tin under the Christmas tree.
I handed it to Buster and he grinned. "Lavender tea. My favorite. You're a gem, Miss Tenleigh."
I laughed. "You're welcome." Truthfully, I made lavender tea for him whenever I could, not just at Christmas, because I knew he loved it. So it wasn't anything too exciting. But he was very sweet to act as if it was.
"Well, you two have a Merry Christmas." He pulled his hood up and smiled over at Kyland and then kissed me on the cheek, his lips cold and dry.
"You, too," I said.
I let Buster out and then looked over at Kyland, the smutty whittled art in my hand. "I've got a whole collection of them," I said.
Kyland threw his head back and laughed. I joined him. "I swear, that old man has a screw loose. But, I love him."