She Has A Broken Thing Where Her Heart Should Be - J.D. Barker Page 0,23

for me?”

I sat beside her and looked down at the flowers. “For my parents…these are left over. You can have them, if you want.”

“I don’t believe a boy has ever given me leftover flowers before, although I think these are called asters.”

“Yeah, asters.” I handed them to her. I expected her to take them, but she didn’t—her hands remained in her lap, wrapped around her book. Instead, she leaned in and smelled them, closing her eyes as she drew in the scent. “These are chamomile. They make a wonderful tea.”

When she leaned back, leaving the flowers in my outstretched hand, I awkwardly set them down on the bench between us.

Ms. Oliver stood down the road from us, in front of the first of three white SUVs, her hands in the pockets of her long, white coat, her gaze fixed on me. There was a mad gleam to those eyes, a hatred and burning anger strong enough to reach across this distance and twist a nail in the base of my spine.

I shivered.

I counted nine others standing around the SUVs. Five women and four men. All wearing long, white coats identical to the old woman, all watching Stella and me closely. I didn’t have to see the guns to know they were there. “They came last year, without you.”

Stella let out a deep sigh. “I’ve spoken to Ms. Oliver about that. So strong-willed, that one. She knew I forbade it, yet she took it upon herself to come here anyway, to speak to you, the nerve! She will not do such a thing again, I’ve seen to it.”

Ms. Oliver shuffled her feet, as if she heard what Stella said. She was too far away, though.

“Why would they listen to you? You’re just a kid.”

She did smile at this. “I am, aren’t I? This is why I like you, John Edward Jack Thatch. You state the obvious, yet it comes out of your mouth like the most profound of thoughts.”

“She said some nasty things to me. Did she tell you that?”

“She can sometimes be a caring, beautiful woman, and at others I’ve found her behavior toward you downright despicable, and I’ve spoken to her about it. She’s very protective of me, always has been, far more so than the others.”

“Where were you? Last year, I mean.”

It was Stella who looked at the old woman this time. Her fingers flicked unconsciously through the pages of her book. “I was somewhere other than here.”

“Why don’t I see you any other time during the year?”

“Because you see me today.”

“Who are you visiting?”

“I’m visiting you.”

“That’s not what I mean.” I groaned. “You don’t answer any of my questions.”

“Maybe you should stop asking questions.”

“Maybe I should just leave.”

“Do you want to leave?”

I let out another defeated breath. “No.”

She turned toward me. The tops of her knees poked out from under her skirt.

My face flushed. I looked away.

This seemed to amuse her. “Why is it you want to see me? Why do you come back year after year, and sometimes in between, in search of me? A girl you met a handful of times? At most, we’ve probably shared a collective hour together, yet I’d be willing to stake you have spent countless other hours lost in thoughts about me, obsessing even. The mere sight of my knee sets your heart fluttering. An innocent knee. What of a foot, or heaven forbid, a bit of my thigh?” She lowered her voice, her words but a whisper. “What if I let you kiss me, Jack? What would that simple act do to you?”

She leaned toward me slowly, she leaned so close I could feel her breath on my cheek.

“Stella.”

This was Ms. Oliver. She said the girl’s name softly, but there was a grit to it, a portent of sorts, a warning. Stella’s eyes narrowed, and she gave the woman a hateful look, then washed it away with a smile before leaning back to her side of the bench, brushing her long hair back over her shoulder.

My breath had caught in my throat, and I forced it to release, drew in another. I changed the subject. “Why are you leaving money for me?”

Stella laughed, and it was a mix of the sweetest sound I had ever heard and the most maddening. I didn’t care. As long as she let me hear it, I just didn’t care. I also knew it wasn’t the question that made her laugh, but my clumsy attempt to get her to talk about something else, anything