Your Hand in Mine (Blackbird Series Book 2) Read online

  I want to suck the words back in as I’m spitting them out, knowing I doth protest way, way, way too much. In a desperate effort to change the subject, I turn the tables on him. “Are you still with Lila?”

  “I’ve never been with her, Sky. Never the way I was with you. If I thought for one second I had a chance with you then I’d never set eyes on her or anyone else again. You know that, don’t you?”

  I want to turn to sand, to disintegrate and blow away. I can’t face him, can’t bring myself to hurt him more than I already have. “I’m sorry,” is all I can manage. “I’m sorry, Tyler.”

  I don’t look up, so I don’t see him make his way to the door. I only hear the howling wind and the rain as it pelts against the trailer’s aluminum siding. Sienna and Garth come back into the main room to find me shaking.

  “Oh, Sky,” my sister says as she wraps me in her arms. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. That was just…” I take a deep breath. “I’ll call you tonight. I don’t want to leave them waiting too long.”

  I give Garth a quick hug and then run back outside into the rain.

  “Are you good?” he asks as he takes me in and then turns the heat up high.

  “Yeah, I’m ready to go.”

  We drive the first half hour in silence. Olivia is awake for the first fifteen minutes or so, and then I look back to see her heavy lids closing. Leo keeps his eyes fixed straight ahead and I’m grateful for it. I don’t want to face him just yet.

  Nothing really happened, I tell myself. There was no show down, no drama. When I texted Leo and told him to come for lunch he declined at first, texting back that he didn’t want to intrude on my family time. But then he relented when I told him Sienna and Garth wanted to meet him and that she’d made her famous fish tacos, a dish he’d regret missing out on. It was casual and easy at the table with them. I was relaxed and happy. But now I feel exposed for some reason. I’m embarrassed.

  “I take it that guy is your boyfriend or he was at some point?” He looks to me before setting his eyes back on the road. Echoing my words from before, he adds, “You can tell me to can it if you don’t want to talk about it.”

  I don’t want to talk about it, but at the same time I do. It’s stupid, this need I have to clarify that I am, in fact, unattached. It’s not like Leo cares. He has no memory whatsoever of that night. I’m sure of it.

  “We broke up a few weeks after my parents died.”

  “He doesn’t seem like he’s taking it all that well.”

  “You got that from what? From that minute-long exchange?”

  “Do you think it’s so hard to read people? To read men?”

  “I don’t know what I think.” I trace my finger along the window, writing my name in the fogged-up glass. “I just know that he’s a good person and I’ve hurt him.”

  “You don’t seem like the kind of person who goes around intentionally hurting people. Just sayin’…”

  “Sometimes it’s just inevitable. The only thing that would make Ty happy is the two of us getting back together again, and that will never happen.”

  “Never is a strong word. What if you were trapped on a deserted island with no chance of rescue?”

  I picture Lila sauntering out of his bedroom practically naked. “Never.”

  Leo keeps his eyes trained on the road. “Zombie apocalypse and he’s your only shot at survival?”

  I don’t miss a beat. “Nope, not happening.”

  “What if he swore on his life that he’d never ever do the thing that made you break it off with him in the first place?”

  I picture Tyler watching a football game, cursing at the television screen when the field goal kick doesn’t go his way. “That’s a promise he can’t keep.”

  I fix my eyes on the scenery outside and that’s when I notice that the rain has turned heavy and wet. Leo turns on the news radio channel just in time to hear the announcer forecast snow squalls and possible accumulation for tonight.

  “You gotta love springtime in Pennsylvania.”

  “I’ll take you straight back to your dorm.”

  “That’s out of the way. Get Olivia home and then I’ll head back when there’s a break in the weather.”

  “No. I don’t want you driving in this.”

  “But I’m picking Olivia up from school on Monday, remember?”

  “Yeah…Maybe we can switch it up next week? I’ll cover Monday and then we can do a full day on Tuesday? But only if it works for you.”

  “That works.”

  “Good. Oh, and you just reminded me…There’s a race in Miami in two weeks and the team sponsor really wants me to attend. It’s the biggest race second only to Daytona and I’ve backed out on the last few events. It would be for an entire weekend, though. Are you up for that?”

  “I’m up for it, but is it the weekend of the twenty-first?”

  “I think so. You’re not available? It’s fine if you can’t do it.”

  “What would you do, have Maureen cover it?”

  I know Leo still asks her to fill in when he’s desperate, but leave Olivia in Maureen’s care for an entire weekend?

  His brow furrows as if he’s thinking the same exact thing. “I’ll figure something out.”

  “I might have a solution. I promised Garth and Sienna I’d watch James that weekend. They never had a real honeymoon when they got married, and Garth was able to borrow a friend’s cabin and get some time off so I don’t want to disappoint them. I was planning to head down there Friday night after you got home, but if I watch James at your house then I can get him Friday morning and be back in time to get Olivia. She’d be over the moon about it.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that. Sounds like a lot of work.”

  “It might work out even better. The cabin is up in Erie. They’ll be passing right through here on their way home. Actually, I won’t even have to drive down to get him. They can just drop James off with us on Saturday morning.”

  He comes to a stop outside of my dorm. “If you’re sure it’s all right then I’m on board.”

  “Great. It’s settled then.” I look behind me to see that Olivia’s still out cold. “Late afternoon nap. Good luck getting her to sleep tonight.”

  He pretends to be offended. “You think I don’t have any tricks up my sleeve? She’ll be tucked in by eight.”

  I roll my eyes. “She told me she watched the American Idol finale with you last week. I know for a fact that didn’t end until eleven.”

  “Whatever. At least it wasn’t The Bachelor. Maureen would have had that cued up for the two of them to watch together.”

  I’m standing outside now, leaning down to speak to him through my door that’s still open. “You’re exaggerating. I love that lady. She’s a spitfire.”

  “A spitfire. Is that a nice way of saying she’s a hellion who won’t listen to anyone?”

  He’s smiling and I’m enjoying this banter, enjoying this easy back and forth with Leo way too much.

  “Hey,” he looks past me, “I think someone is waiting on you.”

  I turn to see a bundled-up Pilar waving at me from just few feet away. “Sky, I thought that was you.”

  Looking back to Leo, I do my best to smile through my disappointment. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you Tuesday at around ten-thirty?”

  “See you then.” As I turn to go he calls after me, “And thanks for today. I’m glad I got to meet your family. They’re great.”

  I nod, fighting back the flood of emotion brought on by the reminder of family. There’s gratitude and grief associated with the word.

  “Hey, girl.” Pilar greets me with a smile and a hug. And it’s good when she pulls me in close. The contact is something I desperately need at the moment and it gives me the additional few seconds I need to compose myself.

  “What are you doing all the way over here on this side of campus?”

  “A friend of mine, Ghislaine, lives here. She’s a French Literature majo
r. Do you know her?”

  “Is she an international student?”

  “Yes.” Pilar smirks. “She’s from Lyon.”

  “I’d say she took the easy way out with that major but plenty of native English speakers major in English Lit.”

  “Good point.” Pilar shivers as I fiddle with my key card. “But she’ll freely admit to taking the easy way out.”

  “I haven’t met her. I’d remember that name. Do you only associate with glamorous people who have international jet-setter type names?”

  “Mais non, Skylar! I do hang out with you.” She pairs that dig with a hip check.

  Climbing the stairs, she asks, “What’s the story with that guy who dropped you off?”

  I turn back with a raised eyebrow. “The story?”

  “Isn’t he that guy…The one who…I know I heard him speak at some professional development lecture series last year. It was on patent acquisition.” She’s laughing when she says, “I remember sitting there lost in a fantasy of that man mauling me in some dark empty classroom. Everyone said it was really informative but I barely heard a word he said.”

  “You’re an engineering major?”

  “Mathematics.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “I was just tagging along that day with Devon. So what’s the story?”

  “No story. I babysit for his daughter. His name is Leo Hale. And he probably was the speaker. I know he does something with patents and he’s involved with the engineering department’s research in some way.”

  “Leo Hale…Yeah. Devon was saying he secured his first patent for some polymer-based sealant used in auto manufacturing before he finished his undergrad.”

  “Wow.” I try to play down my reaction and come off as neutral. “That’s impressive.”

  “He looks like a hot lumberjack. Mmm…So much intelligence packed into that manly man.” We’re standing at the other end of my hallway. “What’s he like?” she asks, and I think on that loaded question as she’s knocking on her friend’s door.

  “He’s just a good person.”

  She introduces me to her friend and then kisses me goodbye on both cheeks because that’s what the Pilars, Simones and Ghislaines of this world do. Even if they are from Cleveland, like Simone.

  “I’ll see you Thursday.”

  “We’re hitting that new beer garden in Troy Hill.” I turn back and nod, agreeable but noncommittal. Her smile tells me she knows I’m not coming but she’ll give me a hard time about it anyway. She calls after me, “Just two more weeks until the recital,” and just the reminder of it has me quaking in fear.

  It’s actually less than two weeks away. It’s a week from this Thursday. And I’m doing a contemporary duet with Misha, so I’m kind of freaking out. At the holiday recital I was hidden in the background, no pressure at all. And while Misha’s doing all of the heavy lifting in this piece he choreographed himself—I’m literally following his lead—I’ll still be dancing center stage and I don’t think I’m ready for prime time.

  Grace is coming. She balled me out over text message last week when she found out about the recital on her own. I was going to tell her, swear to God, but inviting people or announcing it in any way makes it real and scares me half to death. Sienna knows about it but she’s not coming up. I patently forbid her to come. She’s nursing, the baby can’t sit through a show like that, and she has to get ready for their belated honeymoon getaway weekend.

  That reminds me that I have to call my sister and tell her about the change in plans and make sure she’s all right with it. It also reminds me that I have a crap ton of work to get done in the next week. There’s only one month left in the semester so finals will be coming up before I know it. I can’t lose focus because I cannot lose my scholarship. Dip below a three-five and I’ll be out on my behind.

  It’s cumulative, I tell myself. And I kicked ass last semester so I don’t have much to worry about. Tossing my bag onto my bed, I continue the positive self-talk, smiling to myself remembering the high school guidance counselor who taught me this technique. State what you’re afraid of and then take a realistic inventory of whether or not the fear is warranted.

  Feeling more relaxed and composed a few minutes later, I power up my laptop and get to work on a paper that’s not due for two weeks. Tackle the obstacles in your path one by one.

  Ah, Mr. Vargas.

  If he only knew the number of times I’ve repeated his pearls of wisdom like a mantra to get me through this past year. Without knowing it he helped me untangle the mess my parents left behind, guided me through my breakup with Tyler, and strengthened my resolve whenever my lonely heart wavered.

  And then there’s Grace. She helped me stay the course when I questioned whether or not I belonged here, and she pushed me to step out of my comfort zone and try something new and scary.

  Yeah, I’m still scared about being up on that stage, but thinking more rationally now, I know I’ll get through it.

  I’ve been fortunate to have people in my life who’ve encouraged me and gotten me through hard times, but Sienna trumps them all. She will always be my biggest cheerleader. Her voice is always in my head, coming in clearer and louder than the rest, and she’s telling me I can do this, piece of cake.

  I laugh when I can hear her imitating that character in The Help. It’s her favorite book. Yes, I tell myself, I’m smart, I’m important. But Sienna never says it as a joke. She wants me to believe it about myself. She is the kindest person I know, and in some ways, the wisest. Sienna inherited all of my mother’s best qualities and, I’ll admit begrudgingly, my father’s.

  I think back to what Leo said before about my family. They’re great. I wipe at the tears forming, try to stop the tide, but then I lie back on my bed and let it wash over me.

  They were flawed but my parents were great. And the family I have left, Sienna, Garth and James? Great doesn’t even do them justice.

  So I’ll add one more thing to those lines Sienna recites so often: I am blessed.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Leo

  I hate traveling.

  I used to love it. Used to love seeing new cities, eating foods that were exotic and unfamiliar. I used to love adventure.

  Sitting in my roomy first-class seat that still manages to feel cramped and uncomfortable, my mind goes back to a summer spent backpacking through Europe. Beer and wine soaked nights in too many places to name.

  I smile thinking back to the two weeks I spent in Santorini. Eleni…I thought I was in love with her without even knowing what the word meant.

  Her English wasn’t so hot and I spoke virtually no Greek, so our love affair wasn’t exactly based on some deep mutual admiration or anything resembling it.

  For two weeks I ate at the beachside café where she worked, waiting for her shift to end so that we could spend every night together. I entertained fantasies of bringing her home with me, as if a place like Pittsburgh was someplace to lure a beautiful twenty-year-old who already resided in paradise.

  My seat mate looks my way when I laugh so I school my expression, but the memory of that morning, while it was the opposite of funny at the time, makes me smile now.

  Giorgos. I still remember his name.

  Her boyfriend walked in on us when he came back a day early from visiting with family in Athens. Everything is a blur, a frenzied, chaotic mess. Same as it was that morning. White sheets flying and twisting, heated words I didn’t understand, a fully-clothed guy fighting me to the death as I hit back hard, bare-assed and confused.

  I moved on to the next place with my buddies. I think it was Seville. I licked my wounds for a few days and then got back in the game. I was a ladies man that summer—never was before and haven’t been since. I had a good run, I guess, but I’m not cut out for that kind of drama.

  I came back after that summer, started graduate school and started my business. Got serious, as they say.

  I was serious about Carrie in the beginning
, probably because I was so distracted. But it took less than a year for me to know she was not the one.

  I raise my hand to get the flight attendant’s attention and then order a scotch and soda. I don’t normally drink during flights because it makes me feel like crap, but thinking about Carrie sucks the life out of me. I need something to help me forget.

  I try to go back to Eleni, but the face that’s gone hazy in my memory suddenly morphs into Skylar’s. I don’t fight it or scold myself like I usually do. No, I let her in and let myself focus on the things in this world that are good and beautiful. Settling back into my seat, I take a sip and think of her without guilt, and without one ounce of self-restraint.

  She blew me away last night.

  Sky didn’t tell us about the recital. I only found out when I ran into her friend Grace when I was leaving campus one afternoon. I didn’t even question my decision to surprise her, told myself I was doing this for Olivia and no one else.

  Yeah, right.

  I didn’t spring it on Olivia until a few hours before the show when I stopped at a flower shop after picking her up from school. Libby was so excited picking out the bouquet for Skylar, and then she dressed up like she was going to opening night at Lincoln Center, complete with her Dorothy-inspired sparkly red shoes.

  We got two seats around ten rows back from the stage. I had to remind Olivia that she couldn’t call out to Skylar, and raised up a silent thank you when she complied. I think for the first time in her life, Olivia was speechless, her eyes glued to the stage once the curtain came up and she spotted Skylar dancing back-up in the chorus. I’m sure the lead soloist was talented, but I didn’t look at her once. My eyes were trained on Skylar’s every move too.

  And nothing could have prepared me for the second to last dance on the program. I looked down to see Olivia’s eyes go wide when Skylar took the stage with just one other person.

  With her hair tied up like that, she looked poised. She was an entirely different version of the girl who dances around my kitchen in jeans, laughing and singing, hair down and untamed. Dressed in only a black leotard, every curve of Skylar’s body was on display. Every muscle in her slender arms, and in the strong legs that supported her through every graceful turn, spin and jump.