Sometimes It Happens Here Page 20

  As much as I want to bury myself under my comforter and hide from the world indefinitely, I decide to force myself to face people come the next morning. Mostly, because my bank account depends on my attending the market, but also, because I love the work I do on the Christmas show, and no amount of ugly stares or nasty comments is going to take that away from me. Not even the prospect of seeing Bodhi and having to pretend he’s just another meaningless face in the crowd among the drama mamas and students backstage, which seems equally necessary as it does impossible.

  The only person I’m not ready to face, is Jimmy. Thankfully, Mama is ready and willing to jump in and manage getting Mona back and forth for her day out at the farm with Marc’s parents.

  “Lilan, you’re here.” Marion’s surprise is tinted with concern. “After what happened yesterday, I wasn’t sure if you’d be back today.” She puts down the jars of pickled green beans she was setting up for display and comes over to meet me at my booth.

  “I guess you heard the extent of my emergency exit,” I mumble, keeping my head down while I unload the loaves of bread I brought today. I must have nearly twice the usual amount. When I couldn’t sleep last night, I wound up in the kitchen, getting a head start on things and winding up way ahead of the game.

  “Heard. Saw. Got caught in the mix when some reporters wound up in here and found out I was your booth neighbor.” She shakes her head in dismay. “Let me tell you, they lived to regret having met me at all.”

  Her anger on my behalf is enough to make me want to start crying all over again. “I really appreciate that, Marion.”

  She hugs me, holding me a little tighter and longer than either of us normally would. “They don’t even know who they’re messing with, Lilan. They try and show up here again and you’ll see, the whole damn market will unleash a wave of homemade and handcrafted fury on them.” Her lopsided grin is enough to make me see the humor even in this unpleasantness.

  “Thank you. I just wish this story would disappear. It kills me that there are actually people out there who believe it. And God help me when Mona stumbles across those headlines one day.”

  Marion’s eyes narrow and she tilts her head to the side. “Lilan, no one believes it. Even the people who say they believe it, can’t possibly, actually believe it. If anyone thought you were a secret, evil killer who knew how to get away with murder even when half the town was pointing fingers at you, everyone would be a hell of a lot more scared of you.” She laughs, which seems odd, and yet completely appropriate given how ridiculous everything sounds when she’s saying the words out loud. “And Mona will think nothing of it when the day comes. Well, she may have some thoughts, regarding the media and the drivel they’re willing to report just to get a little attention. But when it comes to you, and how Marc passed, she’ll be fine. No amount of gossip will sway her from the truth you’ve always told her. You’ll see.”

  I wrap her up in another hug, surprising us both. “Thank you,” I whisper, fighting back all the feelings I’ve been trying to shove down all morning. “You don’t know how much this means to me. How much your friendship means to me.”

  When we step back from our embrace, her eyes are as shiny as mine and she just nods repeatedly, smiling in her understanding of my appreciation.

  From here, my morning improves drastically and even if I detect a change in temperature with some of the people coming and going, the support I receive from everyone else is more than enough to help me fend off the unwelcome commentators and dirty looks.

  It’s only when I’m pulling into the parking lot of the high school that I remember that the hardest part of my day still lies ahead of me. After all, Bodhi’s directing the show. Running into him at rehearsals is inevitable.

  Compared to how much I dread crossing paths with him, knowing I will also be in close quarters with Margo Whitman’s offspring, Dick, doesn’t seem nearly as unbearable.

  Keeping my head down and my mind on the tasks ahead, I march inside like a woman on a mission. Despite the whispers as I pass through, no one goes out of their way to stop me or talk to me. Given my every attempt to look unapproachable, I don’t even take it personally that no one greets me until I’m face to face with Ruben at the center of the stage where he’s busy taking measurements.

  “Heard we’re doing some hoity toity city set,” he grumbles, marking a spot on the stage with a piece of masking tape. “Couple of kids from the art department are here to talk to you. Guess you missed a meeting with them yesterday.”

  In all the mess, I completely forgot I set that up. “Did they look pissed?” I ask. Because being stood up wasn’t enough. Now they had to come to school on a Saturday. I’d be pissed.

  “They didn’t seem too bothered when they were talkin’ to me,” he says, taping off another spot. “Then Ms. Hannah came along and had a chat with them, and one of the girls got so upset, she stomped her way to the nearest trash can and tossed her sketchbook in it.” He looks up at me, shaking his head. “Went and pulled it out a second later. Guess she didn’t take too well to the news of Bodhi James being gone.”

  “Wait. What do you mean gone? He’s not here today?” It would be so like him, giving me space, knowing how hard today would be for me. For both of us.

  “He’s not here at all,” Ruben says. “Hannah’s been going around tellin’ everyone all morning. He had something come up and had to head back to L.A.”

  I feel like the wind just got knocked out of me. Somehow, despite everything, I still expected him to be here today. It’s like a twister of emotions is being unleashed from the pit of my stomach, churning up every feeling between anger and sadness and relief, making it impossible to settle on how I’m taking this news.

  Then, I start moving, my body taking on that storm as I surge past everyone and straight to the keeper of the information I seek. Hannah.

  “He’s gone?” I demand, apparently hanging somewhere around anger and fear mixed with desperation. “He really left?”

  Hannah looks up from the script she’s got sprawled out across her desk. “I’m confused. Didn’t you tell him to do that?”

  “No!”

  “You didn’t tell him he couldn’t stay?” she asks, oddly calm and collected given the situation.

  “No. Well, yes. But I meant in my life. Not in this town!” Exasperated, I collapse into the nearest desk, burying my face in my hands as I whine, “Who takes things that literally?” Slowly, I emerge from my hiding spot among my palms, moving my hands to hold up my head instead of cover it, fingers splayed, creating hair I’m sure can only be deemed fit for a crazy person.

  “Maybe he wasn’t so much being literal as he was coping with the not being in your life part. And maybe, the thing even more important to him than coping with being without you was making sure that your life went back to normal as quickly as possible. And maybe, he knew that if he left, the media would leave with him and leave you alone again,” Hannah says, leisurely getting up from her desk and walking around to join me, as if this is just some teacher parent conference and I’m not grasping why my kid is failing a class that entails playing pretend. Just another day in Hannah’s life. Only it’s totally not. And I really wish she’d get on board with acting like it.

  “Why are you being so weird about this?” I demand, channeling my anger in a much more effective direction, being as she’s here and Bodhi is not.

  “Um, because you’re two of my best friends and I’m trying really hard to be Switzerland. Is that not coming across?” She stops her casual moseying about in front of my desk, looking down at me and the apparent mess I’ve made of my life.

  “It is! I don’t like it. I don’t want neutral. Pick a side!”

  She nods. “You’re being a dipshit.”

  I feel like my eyes might pop out of my head. “I meant pick my side.”

  Hannah sighs, reaches for the desk diagonally across from her and thus next to me, and spins herself into the seat. “I was picking your side. That’s what
that sounds like.”

  I scrunch my nose and avert my eyes to take in some of the quotes she has hanging on the wall, though I don’t read a single one. “Oh.”

  “Lilan, look at me.”

  “I think I better not,” I mumble, staring at the wall more determinedly than ever.

  “Lilan.”

  “Listen, I was doing really great when I was all pissed off and feeling entitled to my anger. Now that you’re forcing me to see the flaws in my fury, I’m remembering how stupid heartbroken I am. And I really don’t want to cry in front of you.”

  I wait, certain she will have an argument, a reason or sense of logic I can’t deny or talk my way out of, but I hear nothing. Except myself.

  “Ow!” I spin around before I can think to stop myself, rubbing the spot on my scalp she nearly yanked a handful of hair from. “What was that for!?” But now I’m facing her, so my question has been answered. “You play dirty,” I snarl, still rubbing my tender scalp.

  “But effectively.” She smirks, and if it weren’t for the genuine sadness in her eyes, I’d feel compelled to question our friendship. “Can we adult now, or what?”

  “Will there be less hair pulling?”

  She forgoes a verbal answer and opts for facial expression alone. It’s a pretty clear response.

  “Yes,” I surrender. “We can adult.”

  “Good.” She folds her arms neatly over her desk, and I think she may be taking this adulting thing too seriously. “You wanna go first, or should I?”

  “Aren’t we kind of past that?” I kick my feet straight out in front of me and slump as far down into my seat as possible.

  “I thought we could start over. Pretend your little tantrum didn’t happen.”

  “If we’re time traveling, can we go back farther than that?” I ask, settling into a pout I know for damn sure cannot be considered adulting. “There are about a week’s worth of things I’d like to pretend didn’t happen.”

  Hannah clears her throat in an obvious gesture to ignore me. “Fine. I’ll go first.” She turns sideways in her seat until she’s looking straight at me, while I’m still staring straight ahead. “I’m in love with Teran.”

  All thoughts of myself are whisked out of my brain in an instant. I’m sitting upright, turned toward Hannah, who has won my undivided attention by uttering those simple but significant words. “You are?” My heart swells in my chest, broken pieces finding their place again as joy sweeps through me. No one deserves this more than her.

  “I am.” The smile on her face would have been more than enough to confirm it. “Crazy, right?”

  “More like wonderful.”

  She laughs. “Yeah. It is kind of wonderful. Teran, is kind of wonderful.” She shrugs, still chuckling. “Who knew?”

  “I kind of think you did,” I remind her. “If you really thought he was a useless tool all this time, you wouldn’t have worked nearly as hard at keeping your distance from him. Or forcing him to keep his distance from you.”

  She squints at me, the way she always does when someone says something true she’d like to find flaws in. “In any event, I owe you a thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For pushing me when I was on the ledge, too scared to jump. If it weren’t for you, I’d be spending another holiday alone, telling myself that a little loneliness every now and again is the cost of freedom. Instead, I get to spend it with someone who loves me. Who lifts me higher instead of tying me down. And that’s pretty much the best Christmas present I’ve ever gotten.”

  “I’m really happy for you.” I am. Not a twinge of bittersweet jealousy to be found. “But I think you’re crediting me with too much. You were ready to jump. You just needed an excuse to do it. So, I gave you one.” I smile at her, remembering the deal we made just last weekend. “Thanks for reporting back.”

  She nods. “No problem. I’m happy to confirm that love in fact, does not suck.” Her gaze shifts sideways and her head tilts following the motion. “But then, you kind of already knew that.”

  Already, I start to stiffen up again. “Did I?”

  “Come on, Lilan. Admit it. I’m not the only one who plunged headfirst into the deep end of love this week. I saw you. You were right there, swimming laps beside me.”

  “Um, no.” I think I may be developing a nervous twitch around my nose. It seems to be my go-to for disguising all emotions on my face. Distract from the mouth. And the eyes. And twitch the nose. “Yes, I got swept away in the fairy tale fun for a moment there, but as you can see, it ended abruptly and not at all fairy tale like.”

  “Maybe this isn’t the end. Maybe this is just the bit where you’re locked in a tower thinking it’s the end.”

  “Hannah, this isn’t an actual fairy tale. You and Teran have known each other for years. Falling in love happened ages ago, it just took you until now to admit it. Bodhi and I knew each other for a few days. In real life, you don’t fall for someone after spending a few hours at the ball together!”

  “Says who?”

  “Every rational person everywhere.” I start to get up. “Where’s Kaleaha. She’ll take my side on this.”

  “No, she won’t.” Hannah, leans back, looking up at me smugly. “Or did you forget she married Reese after one crazy weekend in Vegas?”

  “That was different,” I insist, dropping back into my seat. “Reese was being deployed the next day. It was impulsive and nuts and totally motivated by a fear of never seeing each other again.”

  “So? It was still love. It was still real. And five years later, they’re still together, just as impulsive and nuts and ridiculously happy.”

  “It’s still not the same.” I don’t know why I can’t give this one up, but I can’t. “She was marrying another woman. The risk factor dropped tremendously taking men out of the equation.”

  “You sound dumb, you know that, right?” She taps her pointer finger on the desktop, making another point to her argument. “You know what makes you dumb? Love. Love makes you super dumb. I don’t know what more proof you need. You’re never dumb. And now you are. Love. Love is the only possible explanation.”

  “You sound dumb.”

  “I know.” She laughs with delight. “I’m in love.”

  “Why are you so hellbent on having this conversation?” I ask, funneling that anger all over again. “Bodhi is gone. It’s over. What difference does it make if it was love or not?”

  “Because it is love and you being all stupid and in denial over it is only complicating things more than they need to be.”

  I sigh. Anger is exhausting. Feeling is exhausting. “Just out of curiosity, did you torture Bodhi like this before he left? Is this the real reason he jumped on a plane and escaped?”

  “Nope.” Her shoulders bounce as she casually crosses her arms in her lap. “Didn’t have any reason to.” She grins. “He agrees with me.”

  “What?” I don’t believe her. I refuse to.

  “Yep. Suck on that, you stubborn ass. Bodhi loves you.”

  “You’re just saying that. There’s no way it’s true.” The tension creeps up from my feet all the way to my jawline only interrupted by the maniacal flutter of butterflies in my stomach.

  “It is true. And I’m not just guessing or drawing conclusions from vague comments he’s made or things he’s implied. He legit said he was in love with you. Those were his words. Multiple times. And you should know, that in all the years I’ve known him, I’ve never once heard him refer to the woman he loves except when he was talking about you. So, tuck your emotionally tangled up ass up in a fairy tale tower for a while if you must, but believe me, the tale ain’t over. Your shiny, Hollywood prince? He’s a comin’ for ya. Happy ever after and all.”

  Bodhi

  “WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?” I demand, slamming the script down on Mel’s desk.

  Mel looks up from his computer screen, apparently unable to grasp my discontentment with his work. “It’s the Mac Turner script. I told you I was send
ing it.”

  “And I told you I wasn’t interested. Where did you get confused, Mel?”

  He folds the screen down and leans back in his cushy chair, the springs rocking him up and down even after he stops moving. “I assumed your interest had returned now that you’re back in town.”

  I point at the script. “Bullshit. This was waiting for me at my house when I got back. You had to have sent it there before you knew I was coming home. What, were you hoping I was having my mail forwarded somehow? Thinking you’d get it to me one way or the other?”

  Mel adds to the rocking motion of his chair by bouncing his legs. It’s like he’s oblivious to the problem here, completely unbothered by the strain our working relationship is under and how close he is to being fired this time. “Calm down, Bodhi. You’re sweating the details. That’s my job. Same as it’s my job to keep you from screwing up the greatest opportunities of your career when you’re suffering a temporary lapse in judgement.” He stops rocking and sits up straight again. “Take the script. Read it through. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”

  My eyes narrow and my jaw stiffens. “It was you.”

  “What was me?” He shakes his head, as if he’s growing annoyed with me. “What are we talking about?”

  I take a deep breath, trying to maintain calm in the face of an ugly truth I didn’t see coming, but probably should have. “You leaked my location to the press. You sent them after me and Lilan!”

  “Yeah. I did.” He’s not even sorry. If anything, he seems to take some sort of sick pride in his efforts to blow my personal life to shit. “Another thing you should be thanking me for, by the way. Did you even consider asking this woman about her past before you were willing to risk your entire future for her?”

  I place both hands on his desk, leaning over it, fighting the urge to jump it and strangle him. “You think you know shit about her past?” I shout. “Where the hell did you even scrape up the dirt you used to spin those despicable stories?”