Lone Star Rising. Darlene Graham
She gave her red hair a little toss that Zack found wholly endearing. “And proud of it.”
Leading with the flashlight, she took Zack around to the tall side gate. It scraped pathetically on the concrete walk and Zack had to give it a shove with his shoulder to force it open.
“This place is a wreck,” Robbie muttered, and led on.
The night was rapidly cooling and mist was beginning to swirl on the frost-bitten air as they made their way down a waffled and cracked sidewalk encroached by overgrown weeds and shrubs. Somewhere back in the tall trees lining the alley an owl hooted. The only other sound was the slap of Robbie’s tennis shoes and the clump of Zack’s boots until their steps crunched into the fallen leaves, twigs and bramble that formed drifts against the side of the house.
Outside the window in a weedy patch of mud, they found more glass, the golf ball and a cracked plastic gallon-container of ice cream—the cheap kind.
“Something tells me I didn’t get the whole story.” Robbie frowned at the evidence as the wind whipped tendrils of pale hair over her mouth. She brushed them away with irritation just before Zack saw a grin playing at the corners of her mouth.
“Boys will be boys,” he said, trying to coax that grin upward.
“Yeah. And girls will be girls. I’m nearly as p.o.’d about the ice cream as I am about the window.” Her grin materialized fully then. “I was going to have some after they went to bed.”
“Ah. So you’re that kind of girl.” He grinned.
She giggled, then shivered. Without hesitating, Zack removed the new jacket he’d only recently ordered from Gall’s supply. He admitted the thing was an extravagance. He had actually been glad to see the cold weather blowing in today so he had an excuse to wear it. “Here.” He draped it around her shoulders.
“Thanks.” She accepted his kindness without self-consciousness, he supposed on account of the baby. “Nice jacket.”
“Yeah. Can I make a suggestion?” Zack didn’t know why he was sticking his nose in her business. “Can you maybe let all of this go for tonight?” Maybe it was because he’d been in these boys’ shoes, once. A kid that could use a little mercy.
Her eyes rose up to meet his, illuminated by a thin bar of light shining between the unbroken glass above the cardboard and the ratty window shade. She studied him briefly with a defensive look, as if to say, What concern is it of yours? Then her face softened, looking sad again. He felt a tightening in his chest, staring into those pretty green eyes. He’d first looked into them when he was fourteen years old and they hadn’t changed a bit.
The two of them had been standing outside a school bus on a misty autumn night much like this one.
The cheerleaders and the football team had ridden the long highway home from a trouncing at the hands of the Kerrville Wolves. Throughout the whole trip, Zack had sat and studied the back of Robbie McBride’s fluffy, bright hair from his seat several rows behind her, had listened to every note of her laughter as it drifted back to him in the darkened bus. Robbie McBride, the beautiful redhead, the popular senior, a girl way out of his league. In the parking lot, the kids had dispersed to their cars quickly, not wanting to linger in the atmosphere of defeat, and when Zack found himself standing alone with her, he saw his chance.
“Uh, Robbie. Are you planning on going to the dance next week?” To this day, he didn’t know how he’d ever gotten up the nerve to say this.
She turned and smiled up at him. “Me? Are you talking to me?” It struck him then that she had hardly been aware of him standing there, that she was waiting on someone else, her ride most likely.
He recalled trying to be cool, glancing around the dark parking lot, up at the soft channel of light filtering down from one of the windows of the bus. He noted some of the other guys waiting for him over by Spike Porter’s Mustang. “Nah. I was talking to Spike over there.”
She laughed lightly. “Okay. Yeah, I’m going. I never miss a dance.”
“Oh. Cool. Have you got a date?” He had never asked a girl out before.
She looked up at him, clearly astonished, as her expression grew first wide-eyed, then amused, as if some unbidden thought had caught her by surprise. That’s the first time those eyes of hers had truly mesmerized him, standing there beside the bus, with the fog of their breaths mixing for one long moment. She frowned, then blinked, as if coming out of a trance. “I’m sorry. What’s your name?”
“Zack. Zack Trueblood.” He tilted one shoulder forward so she could see the number on his letter jacket. “Number eleven?” He arched one eyebrow at her. “And you’re Robbie McBride. So now that we officially know each other, how about it? The dance?” Not only had he never asked a girl out on a date, he’d never even acted this cocky in the presence of a female before. Well, hell. He never had to do anything but stand there around most girls. Most girls got so giggly in his presence it was pathetic. Except for Jenna, his best friend Mason’s little sister. But Jenna didn’t count. She was a husky little imp who could land a punch to his six-pack as solidly as Mason could.
But this was Robbie McBride, senior girl extraordinaire. A real woman, who was probably used to guys acting a little more smooth.
Those beautiful eyes narrowed slightly, and the beginnings of a smile played at the corners of her gorgeous mouth. “Are you a junior? A sophomore? Or what?”
“Or what,” he said with a shrug as if it didn’t matter. It didn’t, to him. “I’m a freshman,” he finally admitted.
Her smile widened. “Well, Zack Trueblood, I am flattered. I really am. For a freshman, you really are kind of a cute, but you know—” her voice brightened “—I’ve got a boyfriend.”
As if said boyfriend had been summoned right out of the mist, Danny Tellchick came ambling up, wearing a blue corduroy FFA jacket and stiff boot-cut jeans that swallowed his rangy frame. What does she see in this guy? Zack had wondered. Even back then, before Danny had gained fifty beer-belly pounds and managed to fail miserably at life, Zack had thought he was a tad short for the likes of Robbie McBride.
Now he wondered if Robbie Tellchick remembered that night at all.
“I think your oldest boy, especially, could use a break, don’t you?” he said quietly, bringing his thoughts back to what was important in the present. The idea of a twelve-year-old being told to put on his pajamas made Zack cringe. “Maybe seeing me, when he wasn’t expecting it, kind of bothered him, you know?”
She looked down at the white circle the flashlight made on the ground. After a moment she nodded.
“Mrs. Tellchick?” He swallowed. “Robbie?”
She turned her face up to him again.
“I told you this once, but I want to be sure you understand that I really meant it. I want to help you and the boys in any way I can.”
She looked back down to the ground. After a long silence, without looking up at him, she said, “It wasn’t your fault, you know that, don’t you?”
He did know that. And he also now knew some things she didn’t. But that wasn’t the point. Danny Tellchick had died a horrible death, possibly a suspicious one, and now his defenseless family was thrown into turmoil and suffering through no fault of their own. If Zack could only push a giant “undo” button on the whole thing, he would. But he couldn’t change anything. All he could do now was step in, be of some assistance somehow, in some way.
“Could I…would you let me come and fix this window? Tomorrow?” He wanted to add, no strings attached. He wanted to say, I don’t mean anything by offering. No pressure. It has nothing to do with the fact that I had a wild crush on you in high school. I just want to help. But saying all that, with her so recently bereaved and being in her condition, might seem foolish—insulting, even.
Her eyes darted around, obviously tempted by the offer.