Nicole Young - Kiss Me If You Dare

“We never broke up.”

He went back to painting. “If there’s ever anything I can do for you, Tish, just say the word.”

“Thanks, Koby. You’re a good friend.”

As we completed individual homes, families began to move in. I helped coordinate the process, lining up strong backs from the college and the community to haul furniture and boxes for the new inhabitants of Rios Buena Suerta. In return, many of the grown-ups pitched in with the finishing touches on the project. The possibility of meeting our May deadline was becoming a reality.

A month had passed since my return before I got up the nerve to visit Professor Braddock. We’d seen each other in the halls and in various classrooms, but averted our eyes, both suffering too much to discuss our losses.

I knocked on the door of his office at Walters Hall.

“Come in.” His voice sounded weary.

A turn of the knob, a push of the door, and I faced the birth father of the man I loved.

“Hi.” I barely knew what to say.

He gestured toward a chair. “Sit. Please.”

I made myself comfortable, refusing to back down or chicken out. “I’m sorry about your housekeeper.”

He smiled sheepishly. “And I’m sorry about your bodyguard.” Our mutual misfortune brought a chuckle from us both. The tension broken, I leaned toward him, pushing an embossed book across his desk. “Thank you for lending me this.”

He picked up the volume and rubbed the leather cover. “ The Count of Monte Cristo .”

“I took it home to finish.”

His voice was husky. “Did you enjoy the story of a man who exacts vengeance from those who ruined his life?”

“I didn’t care for the ending.”

Denton flipped the pages at random. “Ah. The ending. You wanted him to reunite with the fair Mercedes.”

I nodded.

“An impossibility. You must have realized it in advance.” “The romantic in me never gave up hope.”

“Life is so different than we expect, isn’t it?” His eyes misted over. “We spend so much time chasing after what we think we want, only to have it turn to ashes in our hands.”

I leaned forward. “But the Count ends up getting better than what he wanted. Just not in the way he thought.”

He sighed and looked out the window. “And so the story becomes just another fairy tale.”

I studied his pained profile, my heart reaching out to him. “Don’t give up on Brad. He loves you. He wants you in his life. There can be a happy ending.”

His face crumbled. I went to him, gripping his hands in mine. “I know what Brad’s feeling. I felt it with my father too. Of course Brad is angry with the way things happened between you. Call him. Talk to him. You can work things out. I know you can.”

The professor sat a moment in silence. “So,” he said, “the student becomes the teacher.”

“Just think about it. Anyway,” I gave his hands a final squeeze, “thank you again for lending your book.”

He nodded, looking bereft.

I left him to his thoughts, my feet echoing in the empty hallway as I walked to the elevator.

The semester was almost over, the deadline upon us. We pulled some all-nighters in order to finish before graduation ceremonies. As we put the final touches on the last home, I couldn’t believe I’d survived. There would actually be a college degree with my name on it. All the years of disappointment over not having a diploma were over. Now I could cheer for the MSU Spartans again.

And in the past two years, I’d done everything I needed to do. I’d put to rest my guilt over Grandma Amble’s death, found out my mother had been an amazing photographer, met my father and sisters, and finished college. And it turned out, as weird and messed up as I thought my life was, it was actually pretty cool. I had great relatives, good friends, and a boyfriend who loved me through it all.

I rubbed at a window with a cloth. It was a shame Brad couldn’t be here for the big day. He congratulated me over the phone when we’d talked the other night. But somehow it wouldn’t be the same without him. His health had been steadily improving over the past months, but his doctors wouldn’t give him permission to travel. A final look around by our gang of overworked, exhausted, thirty-something college students. Everything sparkled.

“Perfect,” said Gwen.

“If she says it, then it must be true,” Dagger commented. “Let’s get the clutter out of here.” Portia kept on us as we gathered up the cleaning supplies.

“Take care, everybody,” Portia said. “Tomorrow’s the big day. I guess we’ll find out if all the effort pays off.”

“See you guys tomorrow,” Maize called, skipping out the door.

Portia and I walked to the Dogpatch station, swinging buckets of cleanser and Windex on our arms.

“Have you heard back on that camp position in Michigan?” I asked.

She looked at me, eyebrows raised. “Yes. They want me to interview for associate director.”

“That’s great. What town was that again?”

She laughed. “Just north of Big Rapids. It didn’t look too close to Port Silvan on the map, but if I get the job, maybe we can get together once or twice a year.”

I threw an arm around her neck. “Definitely. That’s so awesome.”

“What about you?” Portia said. “Have you decided what you’re going to do yet?”

“I have.” A smile crossed my lips. “I’m going back to Port Silvan. I’ll live with my grandfather for a while and work at the Coney up the road-”

“Coney?” Portia interrupted. “You mean the restaurant in your old house? I thought you were trying to get them out of there.”

I shook my head. “Nope. I decided it was a perfect fit for Sam and Joel. That’s why I bought it in the first place-fix it up and sell it to the right customer. I’m really glad this time it turned out to be family.” I kept going with my story. “Anyway, Samantha had her baby in March and she’s looking forward to having me help out while she does the mom thing.”

“I’m surprised you’d do that to yourself.”

“Nah. I’ll get to see my baby cousin every day, make a few bucks, and be close to Brad. Once he’s over the rough stuff, he can come stay at Puppa’s.” I gazed at the spring blossoms on some exotic bush near the station. “We’ll enjoy the view at the lake house. It’s right on Silvan Bay, which is gorgeous this time of year. And you can hear the church bells.”

Portia gave a knowing smile. “Speaking of bells, do I hear wedding bells in your future?”

The bus pulled up on schedule.

“Ladies,” the driver said with a nod.

“Hey, Mr. Kim,” Portia greeted the grinning man. “Tomorrow’s graduation. Are you coming?”

“Young lady,” he said, “I haven’t missed a graduation ceremony at Del Gloria College in twenty years.”

“Great. We’ll see you there.”

He slid the door closed and we were on our way, bouncing toward Cliff Edge Apartments.

The next morning, I stayed in bed a few extra minutes, thinking about the day and what it signified in my life. Looking back, I was glad everything happened the way it did. I would have changed a few things if I could, like the trail of dead bodies that seemed to follow me from place to place. The years I’d spent in prison. The loss of my mother. Brad’s life-altering injury. But who’s to say everything didn’t happen just the way it was supposed to, according to God’s higher, grander purpose. It felt good to look back with acceptance rather than regret. I got up and hit the shower, then dressed in my navy blue duds from my admissions interview almost a year ago.

“You look professional,” Portia said, playing with the pleated collar of her summer fashion as we jockeyed back and forth for the lead position in the tiny bathroom mirror.