Letting You Know (17 page)

Blinking,
I sat up nervously. “That sounds sort of bad. They're not going
to decide until they know that? It's kind of like they're holding
your party hostage.”

“
Oh,
no,” she said quickly, tugging at a curl of blonde hair.
“That's not... they just want me to focus, is all.”

“
Bethany,
come on, that's pretty—”

“
I
don't want to talk about it,” she snapped. “Isn't this
walking the line of college talk?”

Inhaling
slowly, I lifted my hands in defeat. “No, you're right. My
bad.” Both of us seemed on edge, our moods not conducive to
conversation of any kind.

We
were rescued when our food arrived, a moment that gave us a reason to
stuff our faces.

How
does she not realize how controlling her parents are? Telling her she
can't have a party, or not deciding on what kind, until they know if
it's worth celebrating over...

Chewing
on a fried potato, my shoulders felt suddenly very tight.
My
parents are controlling, too, but I'm still able to stand up to them.
Why can't she?

“
Deacon,”
she said, drawing me from my wandering thoughts. “Thanks for
this. I know I gave you grief on the phone, but...” Her smile
was shy, it set my heart throbbing. “It's nice to do something
different like this.”

Grinning,
I set my fork down gently. “Happy birthday, Bethany. It's the
least I could do. I like spending time with you.”

“
I
like it, too, yeah.” The tension lifted slightly, the food
tasting better vicariously.

We
finished our plates, almost licking them clean as we laughed at each
others lack of manners. “That's hardly appropriate for a new
adult,” I teased, reaching out to dab at her cheek with a
napkin.

“
Oh,
please,” she rolled her eyes. “I think I'm immune to
adult behavior when I'm around you, Mr. Underage.”

“
Not
for much longer,” I teased. My eyes warmed, a flutter in my
throat. “Plus, I hope you're immune forever, anyway, Bethany.”

Her
blush was delightful.

“
Come
on,” I said, tossing money down on the table. “I want to
show you something.”

When
we got back to my car, she expected me to open her door for her.
Instead, I led her to the trunk. “A lady doesn't ride in the
back,” she laughed.

“
No?”
I teased. “Just hold your breath, it'll be fine.” Bethany
went to slap me lightly, but I jumped back. “Also,” I
continued, popping the hatch open, “it's a good place to hide
gifts.”

She
stared, unable to take her gaze from the inside of my trunk. There,
I'd laid out the canvas, the painting I had worked on for weeks.

The
gift I had made just for her.

“
Deacon,”
she breathed, fingers reaching inside, hesitating over the textured
surface. “This... did you make this?”

Nodding,
I lifted it out, holding it upright before her wide blue eyes. “Yeah.
Do you like it?”

I
wanted to act modest, but I felt a flush of pride when she started
nodding vigorously. “It's amazing. I didn't even know you knew
how to paint.”

“
Well,”
I shrugged, staring down at the piece, “I honestly didn't
really start until three months ago or so?”

Bethany
was dubious of my claim, but she said no more. “Can I touch
it?”

“
It's
yours,” I said, holding it out gently. “You can do
whatever you want with it.”

That
moment, studying her amazement, how she viewed what I had created
with such honest appreciation...

That
was when it finally cemented in my heart what I was meant to do with
my life.

It
was the moment I sealed my fate with Bethany Sommer. Perhaps we'd
never really had a chance, at all, though.

Still,
it would take another three months before she would learn I had
already applied at the college I wanted to actually attend.

Three
months, until that day when she would find the letter in my car.

I
remember it was raining.

****

“
What
is this?” She asked, quiet, clearly knowing. The envelope
looked so big in her hands.

“
That's—I...”

“
You
got into an art college in California?” Looking from the paper,
to me, I was able to see the hurt in her eyes. “Deacon... you
didn't even tell me you had been looking at anywhere else.”

My
heart was throbbing, the pain of my betrayal leaving me silent.

“
Did
you even apply to Juilliard?” She asked, understanding what the
answer was when I had no response. “How could you do this to
me, Deacon?”

“
Please,
Bethany, I didn't mean to—”

“
You're
going to go to school in California, and I'm not going to be going
anywhere.” Her tone was cold, she looked at the envelope in her
lap. Carefully, she crushed it tight, then dropped it on the floor of
my car. “This is done. I can't do this.”

“
I—what
do you mean?” Inside, my stomach went icy. “Look at me,
Bethany.”

She
wouldn't. “I already said it. We're through. You decided that
when you went behind my back and decided to go to school across the
country. You never wanted to even try with us, did you?”

Then,
she let her eyes fall on me. Those fine brows were lowered, blue orbs
as dangerous as aimed guns. “You had already given up, right?
You lied when you said you'd work hard to go to Juilliard with me.
You didn't even care if I got in or not, you had other plans the
whole time.”

“
No,
I—... Bethany, wait!” As I pleaded with her, she ripped
open the door, stumbling out into the shattering rain.

No,
no... how did this happen?

Desperate,
I hurried after her, ignoring the warning sound of my car telling me
I'd left the doors open. Through the mud and grey evening, I chased
after her. She wasn't running, just hugging herself and stomping
across the field towards the main road.

“
Bethany,
please,” I whispered, rain running down my face, hiding my
tears. “Please don't do this. I—I...”

“
What?”
She growled, bedraggled, her hair hanging in wet clumps. “You
what
,
Deacon?”

I
don't want to lose you, I don't want this to be how it ends, I...

“
I
love you,” I said, surprised by my admission as it fell free. I
couldn't put it back, the words were out in the open. “I love
you, Bethany. Please don't end what we have over this. Yes, I want to
go to school in California, but we can make it work!”

“
You...
you love me?” She breathed, meeting my eyes with an odd
calmness.

“
Yes,”
I answered her, exhausted and vulnerable. “I love you. I mean
that.”

“
Then...
why?” The rain was loud, muffling her as she spoke, but I heard
everything. It was all I could focus on, I didn't care about the
constant down pour rolling over us. “Did you think I wouldn't
get into Juilliard, that I could just go to the college you picked?”

“
Of
course not,” I said, shaking my head. “I truly thought
you'd get accepted into the school you wanted. But I... I knew I
wouldn't
.
I don't know if I even wanted to, once I thought about it.”

Her
eyes narrowed, so I pushed on nervously. “I love painting,
Bethany. And I'm good at it, too. Watching you sing, I couldn't
compete. I know that it wasn't a competition, yes, but I didn't have
the passion you did. Does that make sense?”

“
So...
you thought
I'd
get in. Knowing you'd go elsewhere, you thought I would just be okay
with that?”

“
I
knew we could—can,” I corrected myself, “make it
work. Whether you're across the country or right next door, I know in
my heart we can be alright. Bethany,” I laughed, taking her
hands; she was shaking terribly. “Don't you hear me? I
love
you, and I know we're stronger than distance. We're stronger than
anything.”

Looking
up at me, rain sliding down her nose, her lips were stuck in a
neutral line. “You really think that?”

“
Of
course,” I said, convinced to my core. “I believe that.
Don't you?”

She
was silent, watching me how an owl might.

“
Bethany,”
I whispered, leaning in close. “Don't you love me too?”

Her
lips parted, but no sound came out. Unable to handle the idea of her
saying nothing, I hugged her hard, my lids crushing shut.

Please,
I
thought in a panic,
please.

“
Yes,”
she mumbled into my ear, the wind and rain trying to steal her voice.
“Yes, I love you, too. I love you Deacon.”

It
was all I wanted.

It
was all I thought we would need.

Five
Years Later

“
Excuse
me, sir?”

I
looked up, spotting the skinny teenager in his over-sized, red store
vest. He was staring at me nervously, making me painfully aware of
how I had to look.

Clearing
my throat, I straightened from where I had been bent over in the
aisle. “Uh, yeah?”

“
Are
you alright?” He asked, squinting at me like I might do
something irrational.

Brushing
back my hair, noting my warm, slick forehead, I laughed. “Sorry,
sorry. I'm fine, just got a little dizzy there.”

He
didn't seem convinced, but he turned, leaving me alone among the
shelves of toys.

Sighing,
closing my eyes, I saw the backs of my eyelids. In them, the flicker
of memory, that day in the rain, was painstakingly haunting.
I
don't want to keep remembering this stuff. I really don't.