So the Heart Can Dance (A Hidden Beauty Novel Book 2) Page 8

  “Aidan, you’re such a jerk!” Tara screams at me. “You know I’m afraid of birds. Did you bury something in the sand to make the stupid bird do that?”

  I hold my hands up in front of me in protest as I declare, “No practical joke this time, Gracie. I wouldn’t do that to you. Okay, maybe I would’ve as a kid, but I wouldn’t do it now. Are you ready to race?”

  Tara throws her hands up in frustration and growls, “Okay, fine. I need to run off some of my tension anyway.”

  Although it’s totally against my nature to let a good line like that go unanswered, in the interest of keeping peace and not ticking Tara off any more, I let it slide.

  “I’m ready anytime you are, Gracie,” I state as I get down into my runner’s stance once more.

  From behind me, I hear Tara shout, “Go!”

  I take off at a dead sprint. I know from our childhood that Tara does not appreciate being pandered to. If she chooses to challenge you to a contest, she expects you to give 110%. The quickest way to lose her respect is to expect less of her because she looks fragile. Underneath that fragile façade beats the heart of a warrior. I’m mentally counting off the seconds in my head. She padded my lead by far more than ten seconds.

  The sound of her footsteps behind me is absorbed by the sand and wind. Her timekeeping puts me at a distinct advantage. Or it would, if I actually stood a chance of winning this race. In this particular athletic endeavor, Tara has a slight advantage over me. Although I run to keep in shape, it’s never been my passion. When I get her playing on my playground, the odds will even up. I can’t wait to introduce her to my sport.

  Soon, I see a blur over my left shoulder as she comes flying by. Running is an awkward sport for most people. Their eyes squint, their cheeks puff out and their mouths are often distorted. Yet, somehow Tara looks like she’s merely pausing between shots of a high-fashion photo-shoot. The only indication Tara is expending any effort are the small puffs of air that appear as mist around her mouth as she runs. She reaches the large log at the end of the small beach area. She sits down triumphantly and digs out a cell phone from her pocket. She points it in my direction and clicks a series of pictures as I eventually reach her perch.

  I’m trying not to show how winded I am, but it’s been a while since I’ve run at a full sprint, and even longer since I’ve run on sand.

  Tara looks up at me with a wide grin on her face as she asks, “What took you so long, slowpoke?”

  “Who’s to say my view wasn’t better from back here? That may have been my strategy all along. You’re not the only one that’s sneaky,” I reply with a teasing grin.

  “Aidan Jarith O’Brien, did your mother teach you that the way to a girl’s heart is to talk about her backside?” she scolds, tongue-in-cheek.

  I squirm a little and blush a lot. “No, ma’am. In fact, if you told her, or Delores, they would take away my card for chivalry. I spent too many hours with Delores and her ‘unofficial finishing school for gentlemen’ to lose that honor. I deeply apologize for any offense.”

  Tara puts her finger up to her lip. I remember how hard she fought to break her habit of biting her nails. “Do you really think I have a nice butt?” she asks curiously. “I always thought I was too skinny for that.”

  “Men are visual creatures. We’re just wired that way. We mean no offense, but it’s natural for us to look at women. I appreciate women of all sizes. I’m probably breaking some man code by telling you this. But, when I see a woman, the first things I check out are her eyes and her smile. Then, my eyes naturally travel down her body to her breasts and her butt. Tara, I can honestly tell you that you are lacking in none of those areas.”

  Tara blushes a dusky red as she confesses, “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you. You used to make underarm farting noises at me, and you’re the little brother of my dance partner.”

  “First of all, I’m taller than my ‘big’ brother now. Secondly, we decided you were the underarm fart champ, so that’s bogus too.” I argue. “Do you have any other reasons I can’t think you’re sexy?”

  A look of profound sadness crosses Tara’s face and she wrings her hands in front off her as she tries to explain, “Aidan, I don’t think you get it. I’m screwed up. I’m not normal now—”

  I sign for her to stop, “No.”

  She looks startled. “No?” she asks.

  “You are perfectly normal, Tara. What was done to you was sick and screwed up. There’s a difference. If I ever find that sick bastard, he’ll know what screwed up means,” I answer, anger toward her attacker coloring my voice.

  Tara, turns away sighing. “I wish it could be that simple, Aidan,” she declares. “But it isn’t. Warren Jones changed me that day, and nothing will ever undo that.”

  “What if I helped build some positive memories with you? Can we pack your brain so full of great stuff that it helps crowd out the bad stuff?” I ask, intent on finding an answer.

  “I honestly don’t know if that could ever work, Aidan. I haven’t had many positive experiences to plug into my life,” she replies, digging her toe into the sand.

  I mentally kick myself. I knew she was barefoot. I had no business challenging her to a race. When am I ever going to learn to engage my brain before I shoot off my mouth?

  I place my hands on her shoulders and she visibly flinches. I want to kill that son of a bitch. There used to be a time when, if I did that, she would’ve given me a hug. This time, I don’t immediately drop my hands; instead I turn her gently in my arms and give her a crooked smile from a few inches away. “Well, Gracie... I’m thinking we probably don’t have to plan it all right up front. If we build one memory at a time, pretty soon we’ll have a group. Then, that group will become a collection,” I suggest.

  She sniffles as a tear rolls down her face. She starts to wipe it with her sleeve. Instinctively, I reach up to brush away the tear with my thumb. It’s a small victory when she doesn’t pull away.

  “You make it all sound so easy,” she replies in a hoarse whisper. For a brief moment, she leans her face into my hand before pulling away.

  “Gracie, it’s always been easy between us. Don’t let him take that too. How about we start small? I lost fair and square, so I owe you breakfast. If I remember correctly, coffee and a strawberry filled donut are your speed, right?” I try to sound casual. I don’t think I’ve ever had so much riding on a single coffee date.

  There’s a lull in the hollowing winds and the seagulls scatter. The sound of my heartbeat seems thunderously loud even in contrast to the waves as I wait for her to reply.

  Abruptly, Tara sits down on the large piece of driftwood and buries her hands in her pockets. She peers up at me through her long eyelashes and says softly, “I guess it’s a good thing I worked up such an appetite.”

  It’s odd to be hanging out with Aidan again. It’s almost as if my body and mind have some form of muscle memory when it comes to him. We’ve fallen into our old patterns of friendship in a way I never thought possible. I’m more at ease with him than I’ve been with anyone in years. It’s weird, even after all of this time, I’m more open with him than I am with the Girlfriend Posse.

  We decide to just walk to one of the little restaurants in the touristy part of town. As we prepare to sit in the booth, Aidan helps me take off my jacket. It’s such a courtly thing to do that it makes me smile.

  “What are you laughing at, Gracie? I haven’t even spilled any food yet,” Aidan asks as he looks around the restaurant to see if he’s missed something.

  “Nothing, really.” I respond embarrassed to have been caught openly gawking at him. “I was just wondering when you went from leaving earthworms in my shoes to being such a gentleman.”

  As we settle into the booth and the waitress leaves menus, Aidan responds, “I’m never going to live my past down, am I? I was pretty mean to you sometimes. I’m so sorry for that.” Aidan glances away with a look of shame on his face.

  I nudge him
with my knee under the table, to get his attention. “It might surprise you to hear this, but I don’t really remember anything all that terrible. I wasn’t a really big fan of the stink bombs and the hidden pop rocks, but other than that, you were pretty benign.”

  Aidan shakes his head at the memory. “You must’ve thought I was a holy terror,” he observes with a grimace.

  “Are you sure we’re remembering the same childhood? Because I remember you helping me learn all my dance numbers and taking care of me when I didn’t feel well. The thing that stands out the most in my mind is that you were my friend. You often stood up for me when no one else did.”

  At that moment, the waitress comes back to take our order. Not much has changed. Aidan still eats enough for three people. I’m losing track of his gargantuan order. I hope the waitress is having an easier time than I am. Taking pity on the poor waitress, I keep it simple and order just a jelly filled donut and a cup of black coffee.

  After the waitress leaves, Aidan picks up the conversation as if she’d never been there as he retorts, “If I remember correctly, you did your fair share of sticking up for me too—or at least covering for my mistakes,” Aidan counters a rosy hue flushing his cheeks.

  “Well, we were like two peas in a pod. I don’t think that teachers ever saw us apart unless we had to be for class,” I respond. “Who looks out for you now? Do you have a girlfriend?”

  The look of shock on Aidan’s face is priceless. “Tara, do you really think that I would be working so hard to get you to go out with me if I had a girlfriend?” he sputters indignantly.

  I shrug indifferently as I remark, “Some guys do.”

  Aidan sits straighter in his chair and looks me directly in the eyes as he declares, “Well, not this one.”

  I study him for signs of deception. Although I don’t see any obvious tells, I really wish my ‘gift’ worked better in my own life. I would like to be able to have a sense of the outcome of the game before I start playing. But, sadly my intuitive senses don’t seem to work when it comes to my personal life.

  I can’t stop the feeling of relief that goes through me after I receive his reassurances. Since this is Aidan we’re talking about, I go ahead and ask the question that’s been bothering me since last night when he tried to ask me out, “Why?”

  Aidan looks perplexed at my question, “Why what?” he inquires.

  “Why are you still single? Have you developed some other strange habits besides underarm fart contests?” I ask.

  Aidan pretends to remove a sword from his chest. “Geez, that’s a little harsh Gracie; especially since you were part of those,” he responds.

  “You’re dodging the question,” I accuse, narrowing my eyes and glaring at him.

  “No I’m not. I don’t really have a good answer. I’ve been living from place to place and working in temporary jobs. Women don’t find that trait particularly attractive once you’re over 18,” he responds candidly. “I guess I never really felt the need to push the issue because I’ve been so focused on getting my music career going.”

  “What does your mom think about that?” I ask. “I’m surprised she doesn’t have you and Rory in some sort of competition to produce grandchildren.”

  Aidan chuckles as he replies, “Well, it’s not for lack of trying. She’s been dropping hints for a long time.”

  “So what do you do about that? As I recall, your parents are pretty persuasive and not easily dissuaded.”

  Aidan grins at me and winks as he confesses, “I just beg Rory and Renée to have another baby to take the pressure off of me.”

  I arch my eyebrow at him in a look of mock outrage as I ask, “Tell me, exactly how long do you expect this strategy to last? There’s a limit to the number of kids Renée can have.”

  “So far, I’ve been pretty lucky because she likes to have kids,” he answers. “Much to my surprise, Rory makes a really decent dad too.”

  “Well, eventually your luck is going to run out. Then what are you going to do?” I ask, curious about how he feels about kids.

  Aidan hitches his shoulder up into a half shrug as he replies, “I don’t know, I guess I’ll deal with it all then. What about you? Do you have any suitors I need to worry about?” he inquires.

  “Very funny Aidan,” I retort, dryly. “What part of I don’t really date and have to virtually be dragged out of my apartment to have any fun, didn’t you understand?”

  Aidan blinks about three times before he says anything, “You never know, you could have someone out there who has always had a colossal crush on you and just isn’t brave enough to say anything,” Aidan proposes.

  “I could, but it’s unlikely. I’m not very crush-worthy. I’m more like ‘crazy cat lady’ than a girl you take home to mom,” I say with a small self-deprecating smile.

  “I don’t know about that,” Aidan argues. “My mom likes you just fine. But, even if my parents didn’t like you, it wouldn’t matter to me. I’m on ‘Team Tara’, remember?”

  The warm fuzzy feeling I get from Aidan’s words is a little frightening, but so nice. I’m trying to stay in the moment and just enjoy these moments for what they are. I realize Aidan was right. Maybe I will be able to push back the bad memories by surrounding them by good ones.

  I look down shyly before I meet his gaze, “I like that you are on Team Tara,” I admit, feeling awkward.

  Even gives me a crooked smile as he says, “I’m glad I’m on Team Tara too because now you can help me eat all this food. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “I don’t know either. But, our waitress thinks you have a tapeworm,” I tease.

  “What? How do you know that?”

  I blush as I admit, “Well, I might have eavesdropped while she was chatting with her coworker.”

  “Why was she even talking about me?” Aidan asks.

  I roll my eyes as I explain, “You’re a cute guy Aidan. Girls talk about you all the time.”

  “Do you talk about me?” Aidan asks, leaning forward and putting me on the spot.

  “No, you haven’t made the agenda yet, but I have a feeling the next time my friends get together you’re going to be the number one topic of discussion.” I inform him, not entirely in jest.

  “Just be kind please, I won’t be there to defend myself,” Aidan jokes.

  “I take no responsibility for what gets said or not said in the Girlfriend Posse; it’s confidential,” I remark with a grin as the restaurant staff starts to clean a ceiling fan a couple of feet from me.

  I look at Aidan and grab my purse as I whisper hoarsely, “I’m sorry I can’t stay. I’ve got really bad allergies and I’ll get really sick if I stay here.”

  “Tara, wait just a minute and let me take care of the bill,” Aidan pleads.

  “I’m sorry,” I say as gracefully as I can. “I really need to go, but I’ll touch base with you later.” I’m trying really hard to hold it together in such a public place. But, I feel my heart racing and sweat running down my back. I don’t know who I was fooling when I thought that maybe I could lead a normal life.

  As I’m fleeing I see Tyler throw a $50 bill on the table and scribble on a napkin, “Keep the change,” he yells at the waitress, “I left you money on your top in your section. You may want to collect it.”

  I can hear Aidan run up behind me as I’m jogging away from the restaurant like a deranged person.

  “Tara, are you okay?” Aidan asks when he catches up to my side. “You’re looking a little shaky. What happened? I thought we were having a good time.”

  I sigh in defeat. “We were until I smelled the dusting spray they were using at the restaurant. When Warren Jones raped me, he smashed my face down into the seat of his car and held it there until I couldn’t breathe. Whatever he used to clean his leather seats on that fancy car of his, smelled almost the same as they were using in there. I told you none of this makes sense and it’s irrational, but my body can’t seem to forget. I just had to get out of there. I’m
sorry I ruined breakfast.”

  “Tara, you ruined nothing,” he insists. “I had a great time. I was going to leave soon anyway, I need to get on the road. I have to work my day job tonight. I’d like to get home in time to take a nap since my bed was about a foot too short for me and my tips suck when I wait tables tired.”

  “Are you sure?” I press anxiously.

  “Gracie, it’s all good. Let’s celebrate today. We had a great run and a delicious breakfast. That’s a victory over the bastard because today you reclaimed your freedom.”

  A tear runs down my face as I realize what Aidan says is true. Aidan leans in and sweetly kisses my forehead.

  “Still, I wanted to make more progress,” I protest wistfully. “You know this isn’t about you, right? I trust you. I just have to convince my body to listen to logic instead of panic.”

  Aidan pulls me in for a hug and whispers in my ear, “This isn’t a race, Tara. I’m here for you until you tell me to go. There will be other breakfasts.”

  I nod mutely because I have too many emotions welling up to speak. “I’d like that,” I sign in ASL.

  Aidan signs back, “Thanks for being a bright spot in my life today, Gracie. I’ll call you.”

  As Heather’s 1957 Bel Air convertible speeds down Highway 101, I’m trying to corral my scattered thoughts. I’ve lost track of whatever it was Heather was trying to tell me about the happy couple. I’m hoping she doesn’t notice my inattention. Unfortunately, true to form, she nails me with a sharp glance as she asks, “What’s with you this morning? I mean, I know you’re not usually as chatty as I am, but you’re making Tibetan monks look like Oprah Winfrey over there.”

  I shrug noncommittally, as I reply, “Nothing, I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

  Heather grins knowingly. “Uh huh, and I bet that lotta something is about six-foot-two with hair that would make any woman jealous and hands that make you wish you were an instrument that could be played,” she teases.

  I can’t help myself from blushing. Heather’s remarks are always so outrageous, yet so spot on. “I’m not going to confirm or deny your statement,” I answer stiffly, but I can’t keep the mirth out of my eyes.