Sparked (29 page)

Cora wasted no time leaving. But, without any other options for finding Clayton, she didn’t go far. She sat on a bench in the town square, and waited for June to take her break. She tried to calm her nerves by watching a group of mothers, their prams lined up, their young ones toddling through the green grass. All the little girls seemed to be wearing patent leather shoes and frilly dresses so short they barely covered their matching ruffled diaper covers. The little boys tumbled around in short pants that rose high on their protruding baby bellies, suspenders in place to keep them up. It was calming to watch their easy happiness, their complete ignorance of any trouble beyond a simple scraped knee. Cora wondered if she would ever be so at ease ever again in her life, or if peace was solely the province of children.

Eventually, June walked out of the bank. Cora spotted her and dashed over. But she was interrupted, again, by Mrs. Powell, who intercepted June before Cora could reach her.

“June, dear, do you have any cash? Your father is out running an errand and I need to pay the butchers.”

“Is there none left from what he gave you this morning?”

“Oh! I found the most delightful little clock. Shaped like a fox. It’s just the thing for that bare spot in the hallway. You know the one I’m talking about.”

June sighed and opened her pocketbook, handing her mother what appeared to be everything in there. Mrs. Powell shifted the cigarette in her hands to fold the money into her own purse.

“Perfect. I’m off to find a bracelet to match those earrings I bought for the garden party. I’m sure Jenkins will have something.”

And with that, she pecked June on the cheek and left, her slim figure nearly prancing down the street toward the jewelers.

June seemed to deflate the moment her mother was gone. Then she spotted Cora, and her mouth drew down in a frown.

“I can’t help you, Cora,” she said, and strode away on her smart black ballet flats, but Cora followed.

“Please, June. Just give me five minutes. I’ve looked for him everywhere and I can’t find him. I’m worried.”

They’d arrived in front of the diner, its neon sign glowing OPEN in bright pink letters. June put her hand on the thick chrome door handle, then huffed, irritated, and pulled her hand back. “Well that figures,” she said under her breath.

“What’s the matter?”

“I just gave away my lunch money, that’s what.”

Cora searched her pockets, came up with a quarter. “Here. Take it.”

June sighed. “I’m not taking your money, Cora. And I’m not telling you where he is.”

“Then you know? Is he okay?”

“What do you care? Didn’t you already break his heart enough?”

“That’s not what happened.”

“So what did happen?”

Cora didn’t know how to explain it to her. She couldn’t exactly tell June what had happened between them. But she could see June wasn’t going to give her any information if she didn’t.

“He did something by accident. Something bad. To me. I can’t tell you more than that except to say he was very upset. He feels he’s to blame, and now he’s disappeared. And it’s partly my fault. I have to make it right.”

June seemed to soften a bit.

“Please. I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

June let out a breath. “A bunch of people went up camping on Jubilation. I’m pretty sure he’s with them.”

“Then he didn’t leave town?”

“No. The trip’s been planned for ages, but he begged off last week because … well, because of you, I think. But he must have changed his mind. He left this morning with everybody else. And he was in a really bad mood.”

“Do you know where they are on the mountain? I really need to speak with him.”

June hesitated for a moment, her brow furrowed. “Clayton is a good friend of mine, Cora. And for some reason, he really seems to care about you.”

“I care about him too.”

“I don’t want to see him hurt. He’s a good person. He doesn’t deserve that.”

Cora softened. It touched her heart that Clayton had such a good friend.

“I don’t want that either. I love him, June.”

“Okay. Hopefully the others aren’t too upset I gave you this, but ….” June pulled out a small notebook and wrote out directions to the campsite. 

Cora would have to borrow a car to get there, but she could figure that out. She could ask Danny. He was a mechanic and was always tinkering on something. She would probably have to wait until after dinner to sneak away, but she knew he would come through. He had always been kinder than any of Butch’s other friends. Sometimes she wondered where Butch would be without his influence.

“Please don’t make me regret this,” June said.

“I won’t. Thank you,” Cora said.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Clayton

Clayton sat by the fire, a flask of bourbon in his hands. This trip had been a dumb idea. Everyone around him was singing, jovial, cracking jokes and telling stories. The group was mostly couples, sitting close and cuddling near the flames. Their happy faces flickered back to him through the firelight, a mocking brightness against a sky gone inky black.

All he could think about was Cora. He’d had word from the doctor that she’d woken up in better health yesterday morning, and it had made him ache not to go see her for himself. What if Dr. Pinkerton had been wrong? What if he’d caused more damage than they realized? It was all such a mess.

Next to him, Will and Meg leaned into each other and shared a long kiss.

“Do you mind?” he said, shooting them an irritated look.

“Just because you’re miserable doesn’t mean you have to make everyone else miserable too,” Will shot back.

“Isn’t this what you wanted? Didn’t it turn out exactly like you said it should?”

Will rolled his eyes. “Grow up.”

Meg looked from Will to Clayton and back again. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Clayton said, going back to his flask.

“Will?” Meg asked. “Is everything okay?” Will obviously hadn’t told her about the talk Clayton had had with his parents regarding Cora. Considering how things had turned out, it was probably for the best.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about, darling,” Will said. “He’s fine.”

“He’s obviously not fine,” Meg said. “And neither are you. What’s gotten into the two of you? I’ve never seen you act so awful toward each other.”

“Why don’t you mind your own business for once?” Clayton said.

Will had his fist balled in Clayton’s shirt before Clayton even saw what was happening. 

“Get your hands off me,” Clayton warned. If he wasn’t a ticking time bomb, he would have goaded Will to punch him. Somebody should. He deserved it. He deserved worse.

To his annoyance, Will wasn’t letting go. But thankfully his powers didn’t seem to be kicking up just then. Apparently that only happened with the person he cared about most in the world.

“You don’t speak to her like that,” Will said. “I know you’re feeling low, but that has nothing to do with her.”

Will was right. This was his fault, no one else’s. Meg was just trying to help. What was wrong with him? Did he have to hurt everyone in his life?

“Sorry, Meg,” he said. “Really. I didn’t mean it. You can butt into my business any time.”

The paltry attempt at humor was enough to get Will to loosen his grip.

“I’m gonna take a walk,” Clayton said, swigging his flask again. The harsh liquid bit as it went down. He liked the sting. He needed it.

“Why don’t you slow down a little, brother,” Will said, gesturing to the flask.

“I told you, I’m fine.” He could handle his liquor. He didn’t need his older brother babysitting him.

“Jeez, Clay. It’s not even nine. Maybe I better hold on to that for the rest of the night,” Will said, reaching toward Clayton.

Clayton pulled his hand away from Will’s. It wasn’t safe for anyone to touch him ever again. “Leave me alone.” Will looked mad, and again, Clayton had the strong urge to push him just a little bit further. A fight would feel so damn good.

But then there was a soft touch at his elbow. “Did I hear you say you wanted to go for a walk? I could really stretch my legs.”

Clayton jerked his elbow away and looked over. It was Violet. She was the last person he wanted to see right now. She was bound to pry.

It suddenly occurred to him that maybe she
would
be his perfect match. He could never be in danger of loving Violet, and so would never be in danger of hurting her. He laughed. He should tell his parents so they could have their job done faster.

“What’s so funny?” she asked. 

Clayton realized that they were all staring at him—Violet, Will, Meg. They must think he was going crazy. 

Maybe he was.

“Nothing,” he said. “Excuse me.”

Violet followed, “I thought you said we were going on a walk?”

“No.
You
said that, Violet. I said
I
was going on a walk.”

“Come on now, Clay. Don’t be a stick in the mud. Let me tag along. I promise to do at least three things to cheer you up.”

“Please just leave me alone,” he said as he tromped further away from the fire.

“How about a handstand? I do a marvelous handstand. Or I could whistle. I have to warn you, though. I’m a terrible whistler. Truly awful. The plus side is that I don’t mind if you point and laugh. I’m quite immune to it, actually.”

“Just stop, Vi. I’m not in the mood.”

But she continued to follow him. “You’re always so dramatic. If you weren’t so handsome, people would never forgive you for it.”

It was exactly things like that which had made him break up with Violet in the first place. She was always making little comments that
sounded
like compliments, but were actually insults. You always felt like a little bit of an ass around her. He had no patience for it tonight.

“Please go back to the campfire.”

She jogged up beside him and plucked the flask out of his hand, taking a long swig. “Or what?” she said, a smile curling her lips.

Clayton took a deep breath, doing everything in his power to control his temper. She was trying to be cute, but she had no idea what he was capable of.

“Honestly, Clay, you used to be fun.”

“Well, I’m not anymore.”

“Please tell me this isn’t because of that girl.”

“What girl?”

“Oh, please. I’m not a complete idiot.”

Clayton practically growled his next words. “There is no girl.”

Violet rolled her eyes. “You can’t seriously be this distraught over Cora Murphy.”

That was it. He’d had enough. He snatched the flask back from her.

“I don’t want you, Violet. I don’t want you and I never will want you. So leave me the hell alone.”

Violet's face froze, her usual smile still hanging there for an instant—though her bright lavender eyes had already registered his words. He thought he saw them glisten with the hint of tears. 

“Poor little Clayton Briggs,” she said. “How does it feel to finally not get something you want?”

“Just go, Violet.”

She lifted her chin, “At least I would have wanted you for love, not money,” she said, then stomped away.

Clayton wandered into the darkness of the forest until he reached the old dirt road they’d driven up to get to the campsite. He followed the road down a ways as it meandered beside a stream, kicking a rock ahead of his feet. The bourbon was gone now, and he doubted anyone would be willing to refill his flask. Will had probably warned them all by now. Or Violet. God, he’d been an ass to her. What was wrong with him?

An owl hooted against the moon as he continued walking, the image of Cora’s ashen face stuck in his mind. Maybe he’d walk all the way home and forget this whole trip. As he walked, the fresh mountain air filled his lungs. But instead of making him feel better, it made him feel worse. It was too sharp, too pure, and made his thoughts clearer rather than duller. He didn’t want to think about Cora anymore. It hurt too much. But she was the only thing intruding on his thoughts. 

He remembered how lovely she looked at the Firelight Festival, her eyes so damn blue it gave him the same feeling as dipping his toe in the lake just as the ice had broken. He wished he could see her now. Wished he could hold her in his arms and make what happened vanish.

But it had happened. He’d touched her in anger. It was unforgivable. And there was nothing he could do about it now but stay away.

A pair of headlights caught him, driving up the road. He covered his eyes, tried to make out who the truck belonged to, but didn’t recognize it. 

The vehicle slowed to a stop and the driver got out, walking in front of the bright beams—splitting them in a hazy silhouette.

He was hallucinating—he must be—because, God, the silhouette looked exactly like Cora’s.

“Clayton? Is that you?” Her voice—Cora’s voice—called out to him from the glaring light.

“What are you doing here?” he said, turning around. Everything in him wanted to scoop her up and hold her tightly to him. But he wouldn’t allow himself to do it. 

“Don’t you walk away from me, Clayton Briggs,” she said. Her voice was strong, direct. It was the same tone she’d used when she was reaming him out on their first date. “I want to talk to you. You owe me that much.”

Clayton stopped. She was right. He’d hoped she’d be angry with him and leave town. But she didn’t. She’d stayed. He owed her an explanation.

“I’m no good for you, Cora. You know that.”

“It was an accident,” she said.

“I lost control and it could happen again.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You couldn’t. I know you couldn’t. Not now that you know it’s possible.”

The moon was bright above them, the stream tumbling over the rocks—the smell of the water drifted around them in a fragrant cloud. In the far distance, Clayton could make out the sounds of what must be the whole group singing around the campfire.

“Please, Clayton. I could understand if you decided it was too complicated with our families or that I wouldn’t fit in your world or even if you found someone else. But this? I couldn’t stand it if I thought I lost you over this.” Cora took a step toward him.