Come Back To Me (5 page)

Rick made small talk all during the photo shoot and the interview. Cara found him pleasant enough. He was polite and kept a respectful distance making Cara wonder if his reputation was exaggerated. The interview finished, Cara sat in a chair, watching her mother through lowered lids as she chatted away with the mayor and the reporter, expounding upon Cara’s wonderful qualities as a daughter. Cara wanted to laugh. She knew what her mother really thought of her.

“You want to go outside for a smoke?”

Cara hadn’t even heard Rick come up behind her.

“Sure.”

They exited the newspaper offices through the side door, walking around to the back of the building so her mother wouldn’t see. Rick stuck a Camel unfiltered in his mouth, struck a match, lit it and handed it to Cara. Then he lit one for himself. Cara felt an unexpected thrill go through her as she took the lit cigarette from his hand. His gesture unnerved her. It slid like silk through the barriers she’d erected over the past few years. She had never smoked an unfiltered cigarette before. It seemed quite daring. She put the cigarette to her lips, feeling the dampness from his mouth, inhaling deeply. She did her best to look dainty as she picked a piece of tobacco off her tongue before she exhaled. Rick leaned against the old red bricks, blowing smoke rings into the chill spring air.

“I’ve seen you around.”

Cara didn’t respond to his comment, she just looked at him, keeping her expression carefully neutral.

“I’ve seen you at the soda fountain after school. You play basketball in the gym at night. I’ve watched you play. You’re pretty good, you know, for a girl.”

“Thanks.” It was all Cara could think of to say. Rick Shea had noticed her?

“I saw your painting before your teacher sent it off,” he said. “It was on display in my art class for a couple weeks. It was well done. Nice choice of colors.”

Cara was surprised by her own reply. “Tell me about your sculpture.”

“Not much to tell,” he said, taking a drag from his Camel. “I sculpted a woman out of clay. Abstract of course. I think it was the combination of glazes I used that got their attention. The judges, I mean. Or whoever chose the two works from Iowa.”

“Weird coincidence that the two final selections are from Iowa, from the same town,” said Cara.

“Yeah,” Rick said. “It is interesting.”

Cara heard her mother calling for her. She dropped her cigarette on the sidewalk, crushing the lighted tip.

“Thanks for the smoke,” she said. “I gotta go.”

“Yeah, see you around.” Rick leaned back against the building.

Cara had the distinct feeling that he watched her walk away, watched her until she rounded the corner. She was too shy to turn around and wave.

∗    ∗    ∗

As Cara read in her room that night, she heard the phone ring. Her mother answered. Cara’s eyes lifted from the page at the sound of her mother’s voice. It almost sounded as if her mother was flirting. Cara shook her head in disbelief. It was difficult to imagine her uptight mother flirting with anyone.

“Cara,” she called out. “Cara, telephone.”

That was surprising. Cara didn’t get phone calls.

Cara’s mother met her at the bottom of the stairs. “It’s that nice Rick Shea,” she whispered in Cara’s ear. “Be polite.”

Cara shot her mother a glance before heading into the kitchen to get the phone. Apparently even her proper mother was not immune to Rick’s charms. Why on earth was he calling?

“Hello?”

“Hi, Cara, this is Rick. I just wanted to let you know how much I enjoyed meeting you today. You’re quite an artist.”

Cara knew perfectly well he had an angle. But her wayward heart beat fast nonetheless. Rick Shea was calling her.

“Thank you.” She made an effort to keep her voice neutral. “How did you get my number?”

“Easy. Everybody in town knows your dad. Besides, my brother’s girlfriend works as a file clerk in the courthouse.”

Cara could almost hear the grin in his voice. Her father had been appointed to the Superior Court last year. Their phone number was unlisted as a result. Rick had obviously gone to some effort. She felt her heart speed up even more and she willed it to slow back down. Rick saved her the trouble of thinking up a response.

“Listen Cara, I’m wondering if we could meet tomorrow after school, at Evan’s ice cream parlor.”

“Um, I guess,” she said, surprising herself by accepting. “What time will you be there?”

“Around three-thirty. I’ll hold a booth for us. Look for me in the back corner.”

“All right.”

“Hey, I can’t wait to see you again. ’Night, Cara.”

“Bye, Rick.”

Cara set the receiver back in its cradle. She stood still for a moment wondering what on earth she’d just done. What could Rick Shea possibly want with her? She wasn’t one of the cool girls. She kept to herself and the other kids at school thought she was weird. Besides, a lot of people knew what had happened. Not everybody, but enough. Cara felt like some of the kids pitied her, but others looked at her like she’d asked for it, as if she’d gone along with Mr. Walker willingly. Everyone who knew anything about that Christmas Eve was protective of Connie Engels, protective of her reputation. Unlike Cara, Connie had fought back. Her parents made it clear to everybody who expressed concern that what had happened was not Connie’s fault.

In contrast, Cara’s parents never said a word about Mr. Walker. They told Cara she was not to discuss it. Although Cara wasn’t certain how her dad felt about what she’d done, her mother called her a disgrace. She said, “It’s a miracle that we can even hold up our heads in this town.” Cara felt like a leper.

“What did he say?”

Cara nearly jumped out of her skin, whirling around. “Jeez, Mom, what are you doing standing there? You scared me to death.”

Her mother ignored her. “Why did he call? He’s such a polite young man. You barely said two words to him.”

“He just wants me to meet him at Evan’s after school, to get some ice cream or something. It’s no big deal.”

“No big deal? A boy like that calls you and you think it’s no big deal? You’re lucky any boy is calling you at all after what happened.”

Cara’s eyes grew wide and she felt the blood drain from her face. She stared at her mother.

“Well, what do you expect? You’re no raving beauty and everybody knows . . .”

“Everybody knows what, Mom?”

“That you, well . . . I don’t have to spell it out for you.”

Cara’s voice rose. “Spell what out, Mom? Maybe you should spell it out. I’d like to know what everybody . . .” She stopped when her father entered the room.

“Why are you yelling, Cara? Don’t speak to your mother in that tone. Apologize to her immediately.”

Cara stared at the floor.

“Cara,” her father said in what she’d come to think of as his
judge
voice.

Cara spoke through gritted teeth, “Sorry, Mom.”

From over her father’s shoulder she watched her mother shape her lips into a smirk. She said, “You should be a little more respectful to your parents, young lady.”

Blinking back tears, Cara asked, “May I please be excused? I have homework.”

Her father nodded. As she headed up the stairs, Cara could hear them discussing her behavior. She heard her father’s deep bass notes, but she couldn’t make out his words. However her mother’s shrill voice came through loud and clear.

“That girl gets more disrespectful by the day. Do you know that she didn’t even stay to talk to the mayor today? She snuck out after the photographer was finished. It took me twenty minutes to find her. She was off somewhere in the back of the building doing who knows what. She smelled like cigarettes when she got in the car.”

Her father’s voice rumbled.

“That may be,” replied her mother. “But I think she behaves like a common . . .”

Cara reached her room and closed her door, shutting out the remainder of the conversation. She was sure her mother’s last word would be
slut
. Possibly
tramp
. Her mother was right. Why would Rick Shea, the most popular boy in three high schools, want anything to do with her?

∗    ∗    ∗

Despite Cara’s doubts, Rick was waiting for her the next day, exactly as he’d promised, in the back booth at Evans soda fountain. He rose from his seat when she approached, greeting her politely, and then helped her with her backpack, sliding next to her as she slipped onto the vinyl bench.

“I’m really glad you came,” he said. “I was afraid you’d change your mind.”

“I-I almost did,” Cara stuttered, surprised to hear the truth spill from her lips.

“Why would you change your mind? I won’t bite. Well, not yet.”

Cara laughed. “I don’t go out much. To be honest, I don’t go out with guys at all.”

“Yeah, I heard. I don’t really understand why. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I should have to beat the other guys off with a stick.”

Cara felt her heart jump. If this was a line, it was the best line she’d ever imagined.

Cara shrugged. “Most guys think I’m weird.”

“Their loss,” he said. “I already ordered for you. I hope you don’t mind. One scoop of French vanilla with hot fudge, no nuts, no cherry, no whipped cream.”

“How did you know?” Cara was stunned.

“I told you yesterday. I’ve noticed you. I pay attention.”

The time flew by. Cara hadn’t opened herself up to another person in ages. When there was a break in the conversation and she finally noticed the time, it was nearly five thirty. She was late.

“I was supposed to be home at five,” she said. “My mom is going to have a fit.”

“I’ll give you a ride.” Rick was nonchalant. “My bike’s out back.”

“Your motorcycle? I’ve . . . I’ve never ridden a motorcycle before.”

“There’s a first time for everything.” Rick grabbed her backpack and slung it over his shoulder. “C’mon.”

His bike was beautiful, a royal blue Harley Davidson. Rick mounted the seat, flipping down the footrests behind him. Cara stood frozen in place for a moment, unable to quite believe this unexpected chain of events. He started the bike with a roar.

“Hop on.”

She didn’t hesitate. He handed her the backpack, and she secured it over her shoulders before climbing onto the seat behind him. She slid down the slick leather until she was pressed against his body. Cara didn’t know exactly what to do with her arms. Rick solved the problem for her by reaching back to pull her arms forward. He tucked them snugly around his waist. That brought Cara’s cheek in contact with his hard, muscled back. She inhaled. He smelled spicy, musky, like Pub aftershave. She caught a bit of the sweet fragrance of wood and sawdust that clung to his soft sweater.

Rick pulled the bike out into the back alley and after looking both ways, took off. The ride home was the most exhilarating experience of Cara’s life. She threw her head back and laughed. Beneath her hands and her chest she could feel Rick join her, his laugh deep and throaty. Just like that, Cara was caught.

“W
hy?” Cara asked, as she lay on her side, Rick’s slow and steady hand sliding along her naked hip. “Why did you notice me?”

“Are you kidding?” Rick looked incredulous. “Have you seen your reflection in a mirror recently? Do you even have a clue what you look like?”

“What do I look like?”

“Like a goddess,” he replied. “When I told you at Evan’s that you were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen, that wasn’t a line of bull. I told you the truth. From the moment I laid eyes on you months ago, I decided you, and only you, would be my girlfriend.”

“But you can have any girl you want.”

“I don’t want any girl. I want you.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to understand. Relax. Be my girlfriend. Enjoy what we have.”

Cara and Rick had been together a month. Step by slow step, he’d convinced her that it was all right to let him near her, to be with him. She’d listened to his kind words, but more than that, Cara blossomed beneath his gentle touch. She’d dropped her guard and opened her heart, willingly following Rick into his bed. He taught Cara she didn’t have to fear him, treating her with respect. Rick showed her how it felt to be loved and cherished.

Today his mom was in the kitchen, making lunch for them. There was a world of difference his household and hers. Rick, his older brother Jessie, and his younger brother Mark had a relaxed relationship with their mother and an indifferent relationship with their hard-drinking father.

The boys brought home whomever they chose, whenever they chose and neither parent ever said a word. At first Cara was terribly embarrassed by the situation, but when Rick teased her about her flaming cheeks in the same smoky voice that got him whatever he wanted, Cara forgot her discomfort. She found she couldn’t withhold any part of herself from him.

The first time Rick had tried to kiss her like Mr. Walker had kissed her, Cara ran from him, flying down the stairs, racing blindly into the woods behind his house. Rick chased her down, took her into his arms and held her until she stopped shaking. He led her back to his room where he sat her down on the bed, admitting to her that he’d heard a version of the story. Cara stumbled to his bathroom and threw up. When she lifted her head, she found him waiting for her, a cold can of pop in his hand.