Finding Fisher Page 10

  Luckily Fisher’s medicine cabinet is fully stocked with first aid supplies. After cleaning the wounds and applying hydrogen peroxide I apply as much pressure as possible to slow the bleeding. Then I use some topical antibiotic cream and bandage my heel and foot the best I can.

  I change out of my suit into yoga pants and a T-shirt and plop down on the couch with my cellphone. If I can’t be at Franklin’s public memorial service I’ll remember him in my own way.

  When I turn my cellphone on I’m a little overwhelmed by the number of missed calls and messages. Twelve from my mom and dad. Three from my roommate and two from Franklin’s roommate.

  I ignore the calls for a moment and flip to my photos. Franklin loved to take photos. My phone is filled with shots of us all over California. As I look through some of the pictures I’m overcome with sadness. The sorrow covers me like a heavy blanket and makes it hard to breath.

  I’m still having a hard time integrating the Franklin I knew, the guy I loved, with the Franklin from Old Town. How could he have led this double life for so long?

  I’m supposed to be a smart person. How could I never have had a clue?

  Maybe there were just some things I didn’t want to know. He showed me photos of a mansion he said was where he grew up. He talked about a mother and father that I know now were a complete fabrication. I took his lies as truth and never questioned them, even when he was vague and didn’t provide much detail. Whenever I asked questions he always managed to change the subject. And he always had a good excuse why I couldn’t come home with him for breaks or why his parents never came out to visit.

  I wanted to believe him, so I did. And I never questioned anything.

  I’m always so truthful I guess it never occurred to me that someone would lie about themselves.

  I close the photos and try to motivate myself to return the phone calls. I know my parents are probably worried sick. I was very cryptic about my reason for the unexpected trip. But I had to tell them something because they still pay my credit card bill. A trip to New Jersey would be pretty obvious.

  And of course they need to know what’s happened. Not that they ever really liked Franklin. They tolerated him because I loved him. They’re not bad people, but I have a feeling they won’t be too upset that he’s gone.

  I decide to phone Franklin’s roommate, Tommy, first. I’m a little relieved that he answers on the first ring. I’m not sure what I would have said if I had to leave a message.

  “Chloe.” His voice sounds uneasy. “What’s going on?”

  “There was an accident,” I tell him. “Franklin died.”

  Silence on the other end of the line. Then I hear a faint, “What?”

  “Franklin is gone.”

  “I can’t believe it. We were just talking about all the crazy stuff we wanted to do at graduation. I’m sorry, Chloe. I—um—I don’t know what to say.”

  It sounds like he’s choking up and that makes me choke up as well.

  After a few more moments of silence he says, “Our professors. They were asking about him. Should I—um—should I tell them?”

  “If you want to.”

  “What about all of his stuff? Are his parents going to come out to get it?”

  I don’t know why, but I laugh. Tommy doesn’t know the truth. “I’m sorry. It’s not funny. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but don’t expect his parents anytime soon.”

  “Okay…” Tommy’s a smart guy and I’m sure he can hear the subtext.

  “I’ll explain everything when I get back and we’ll figure out what do about his stuff. I’ll ask his brother…” I immediately realize my mistake, but it’s too late to take it back.

  “Franklin doesn’t have a brother.”

  “Let me just say that there are things about Franklin that none of us knew and leave it at that for now.”

  “Sure,” he says, even though he sounds totally unsure.

  “I’ll be back tomorrow night. We can talk more then.”

  “Okay,” he agrees and we end the call.

  Next I phone my roommate. To my surprise she also answers the phone on the first ring. She rarely answers her phone and let’s everything just go to voicemail.

  She’s one of the most laid-back people on the planet and rarely worries about anything. But on her voicemails she sounded worried.

  “What is going on?” she demands before I can even get a word out. “Are you okay?”

  “There was an accident. Franklin is gone. There was a memorial service today and I’m flying back tomorrow. Can I give you the details then?”

  “You will give me every detail the minute you get back.”

  “I promise,” I assure her before I end the call.

  I take in a deep breath and try to prepare myself emotionally for a conversation with my parents.

  “Mom,” I say when she answers the phone.

  “Let me get your father on the line.” Then I hear her yell for my dad in the background.

  “What’s going on,” my dad asks as he joins the call.

  “There was an accident and Franklin died.” I wait for a few seconds to see how my parents will react.

  “We know how you felt about him,” my mom says. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m not sure,” I admit. “I’m very confused right now.”

  “That’s normal,” my dad interjects. “It’s a stage of grief.”

  “There’s a little more to it than that.”

  “What is it?” my mom urges.

  I take in a deep breath and then tell her everything I learned about Franklin. The only thing I leave out is sleeping with Fisher.

  There’s silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds and I’m sure my parents are giving each other we-told-her-so glances.

  Then my mom says, “You know that we had our reservations about Franklin.”

  That’s a polite way of saying that they never liked him, thought I was too young to get married and thought I could do a lot better. And that was before they knew the truth about him.

  “We always thought there was something off about him,” my dad says. “But we could never put our finger on it. It was like he was too good, but it was all superficial. But none of it was true.”

  “I’m trying to deal with a lot right now. If I could just have your support and not a lecture I’d really appreciate it.”

  “Of course,” my mom says. “We know you loved him.”

  “I’m not really sure who I was in love with.”

  “Maybe you should fly back to LA for a few days,” my dad suggests.

  “I can’t. I really have to get back to school. I’ve already missed too much.”

  “We’re here if you need us,” my mom says. “Just let us know what you need.”

  “I know.” I can feel my throat tighten. “I will.”

  By the time I end the call with my parents I feel emotionally drained and physically exhausted. I close my eyes and allow myself to drift off.

  Until I’m awakened by the sound of the front door opening. Fisher is carrying a pizza box and a six pack of beer.

  “Hungry?” he asks as he places the pizza on his small kitchen table.

  “Not really. But I’ll take a beer. Are they cold?”

  He frowns. “Of course. Do you think I’d bring home warm beer?”

  Grabbing a bottle opener from one of the drawers he opens two beers and hands me one.

  He takes a long swig of his beer before he looks down at me. “What’s wrong with your foot?”

  “I guess you didn’t notice the hole in your porch where my foot went through.”

  When he laughs I glare at him.

  He tries to bite back his smile. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t laugh. It’s just…I walk on the porch every day. Multiple times a day. And nothing’s ever happened. You’re totally paranoid about the thing and you fall through. That’s got to be some weird twist of fate, right?”

  “It hurt,” I complain.

>   He places his beer on the coffee table then sits down on the couch next to me and places my foot ever-so-carefully in his lap. He inspects the bandages. “I’m sorry you got hurt.” Then he looks into my eyes. “And I’m sorry I was upset earlier. About the ring.”

  “How was the memorial service?”

  He shrugs. “Everyone loved Franklin. I think people are still having a hard time grasping that he’s gone.”

  “I phoned my roommate and his roommate. And my parents. Just to let them all know I was okay. Tommy, Franklin’s roommate, wanted to know about Franklin’s stuff. What should he do?”

  “I didn’t think about that.”

  “That’s why I thought I should mention it. If there’s anything you want me to do…”

  He shakes his head. “I’ll take care of it. You don’t have to worry about it. You’ve got enough to deal with.”

  “So do you.”

  He grabs his beer from the table and takes another gulp. “You haven’t even touched yours.”

  I grab my beer and take a small sip. “Someone will also need to let Stanford know. They’ll probably need a death certificate, or something. I don’t know.” I shake my head. “You’re not supposed to die when you’re in college.”

  “I thought my mom was going to take care of it. I’ll figure it out.”

  “Let me know if you want my help. I’m going to be right on campus.”

  “I will. Thanks.”

  After sitting in silence for a few moments he says, “You’re leaving tomorrow?”

  I nod. “I have to get back. I don’t want to get behind in my classes.”

  “I can’t image you ever getting behind in anything.”

  “You’re right. I was a few weeks ahead. But I still have to get back.”

  “I get it. There’s no reason for you to stay here. Old Town isn’t a place for someone like you. You’re a city girl.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly call myself a city girl, but I definitely don’t feel like I fit in here. And there are a few people here who really don’t like me all that much.”

  “But there’s at least one person who likes you a lot.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Really. And who’s that?”

  He places a soft kiss on my lips. “Me.”

  I know I should probably pack, get ready to leave and not get even more involved with Fisher than I already have. But there’s something about him that I just can’t seem to get enough of. He’s strong and comforting at the same time and it’s an irresistible combination, especially in my vulnerable state.

  “What do you like about me?”

  His brow furrows. “What’s not to like, Buttercup? You’re bright and beautiful. It’s a deadly combination. For me anyway.”

  “And here I thought I wasn’t your type,” I tease.

  “I’m the one who’s not your type,” he corrects. “I’m not going to kid myself. I know I’m not in your league. But I’ll be here for you while you need me.”

  My heart sinks with his confession. I want to tell him he’s wrong, but the words won’t come out of my mouth.

  Maybe because I know he’s right.

  In less than six months I’ll be attending Harvard Law. And he’ll be here in Old Town, fixing engines and building furniture.

  And helping his mom take care of Jackson.

  How would we ever make something like that work? And do I really want it to? My parents didn’t think Franklin was good enough, even when he was pretending to be someone he wasn’t. I couldn’t even imagine what they’d think of Fisher, the mechanic who barely made it out of high school.

  Maybe I really do just want to be with him here and now, while I need him. And maybe that’s enough.

  I lean over and kiss him again, this time I linger on his lips just a little too long.

  He grins. “You enjoy teasing me, don’t you?”

  I bite my bottom lip and nod. Then to my surprise he scoops me up from the couch and carries me toward his bedroom.

  “I thought I’d be staying in the guest bedroom tonight,” I say as we pass right by the guestroom door.

  “You thought wrong. I want you in my bedroom tonight.”

  I swallow.

  Hard.

  Another night of escapism sex is completely irresistible, especially now that I know how good he is in bed.

  He carefully places me on his bed and then sits down on the edge right next to me. “Give me your hand.”

  I place my right hand in his.

  “Your other hand.”

  I switch hands.

  As he reaches for my ring and begins to slide it down my finger he says, “I don’t want you wearing this while you’re in my bed. Is that okay with you?”

  “Fine,” I agree.

  He doesn’t waste any time sliding the diamond the rest of the way off of my finger. Then he opens his nightstand drawer and carefully places the ring inside.

  “Now let’s see if we can relieve some of your pain.”

  “I know you can,” I assure him.

  “That’s what I’m here for, Buttercup. I just want to make you feel good for a while.”

  And that’s exactly what he does.

  ***

  “I’m going to be late!” I practically jump from the bed when I realize the sun is not just peeking in from the shutters, but bright in the sky. “What time is it? I can’t miss my flight.”

  Fisher half opens one eye. “What time is your flight?”

  “Eleven thirty-eight.” My eyes dart around the room until I realize he doesn’t have a clock. Who doesn’t have a clock in their bedroom?

  “You have plenty of time.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Don’t worry.”

  “I worry about everything,” I remind him.

  He climbs out of the bed and pulls me into his arms. “Don’t forget I’m here for you. Whenever you need me.”

  “I know.” My throat feels tight. Then to my surprise I feel a teardrop roll down my face.

  “Don’t cry, Buttercup.” He wipes the tear away. “I’ll always be here for you.”

  Then he kisses me. A deep and impassioned kiss. A kiss to last a lifetime.

  I’m so worried that I’ll be late for my flight I take the quickest shower in the history of showers—at least my history of showers anyway. After I’m ready I scan the guest bedroom one more time to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything.

  Fisher takes my bags outside and when he comes back inside he makes a point of carrying me over the porch and placing me right next to the rental car.

  “I don’t want to say goodbye,” I tell him.

  He cups my face in his hands. “Then don’t say it.”

  “I have to go.”

  “I know.”

  Neither one of us makes a move away from each other. He places a soft kiss on my lips instead.

  And then I feel like I’m going to completely unravel. Or at least come apart at the seams. I have about five seconds to make my exit, or I’ll just be a blubbering mass in his arms.

  So I quickly jump into the car and do my best not to look at him again.

  But it’s difficult with him still standing right beside the car. Go back inside. I try to will him back into the house, but to no avail. He seems to want to watch me leave.

  As I start the car and put it into drive I wonder if I’ll ever see Fisher again. We made such a strong connection with each other so quickly, but the union was so brief. Was part of the powerful draw between us the fact that our time together was destined to be short-lived and transitory?

  I do my best to try to forget Fisher and Old Town and think about everything I have to do when I get back to school.

  Six

  As my first week back at school goes by I feel like I’m in a haze. I go to class, but can barely remember how I got there. And as I do my assignments I feel like a robot on autopilot. I’m going through the motions and trying my best not to fall apart.

  And as much as I
hate to admit it I could really use someone to hold me together.

  I stare at my cellphone and debate the pros and cons of phoning Fisher. He did say he’d always be there for me if I needed him.

  But I’ve been doing my best to get on with my life and leave everything about Old Town behind me.

  I flop down on my bed and stare at the white popcorn ceiling. I try to clear my mind, but all I can think about is Fisher. The way he constantly teased me and called me Buttercup. He’s the only person who has ever called me anything but my full name. The way his eyes sparkled, especially when he laughed. The way he held me in his strong arms.

  The last thing I want is to miss him, but I do.

  I hear the softest of knocks on my door. So soft I’m not even sure someone is actually knocking.

  “Come in,” I say anyway. I don’t have enough energy to get out of the bed.

  As my roommate enters she looks around. I have to admit that I haven’t exactly kept things as neat and clean as I normally do. It just doesn’t seem that important right now.

  “I didn’t think these words would ever come out of my mouth,” Nicole says. “I’m worried about you.”

  “I’m fine,” I insist, but my words sound half-hearted at best.

  “This isn’t you.” She indicates my messy room. “You’re a neat freak. Have you even showered? You’re actually scaring me a little.”

  “I’ll take a shower,” I promise.

  She sits down on the edge of my bed. “You have to pull yourself together and get through this term. For me to be lecturing you is saying a lot.”

  “I know.” I feel like I’m getting ready to fall apart again. I have no idea how I’m going to pull myself together.

  “I’ve never had a boyfriend for more than a few weeks, so I’m not going to pretend to understand how you feel losing your fiancé.”

  “It’s not just Franklin,” I admit. “I did something I shouldn’t have done when I was in New Jersey.”

  Her eyes widen in horror. “What did you do?”

  “I slept with Franklin’s twin brother. More than once.”

  Her brow furrows in confusion. “I thought Franklin was an only child like you.”