Sharon Dunn - Night Prey

The last time he had seen her, she had been fifteen, standing with her back pressed against the door of her house. The silence of the summer night had surrounded them as she looked up at him. That night, he’d come to her house for a reason. He hadn’t expected her cold response.

“Keith, I heard about what you have been doing…about the drinking.”

“I haven’t had anything to drink for a week.” She had refused to be a part of his drinking life, so they hadn’t seen each other for two weeks. The time apart made him realize how much she meant to him. His grandparents’ lectures hadn’t stopped his craving for alcohol, but he’d quit for Jenna…if she’d help him. He didn’t want to lose her.

“I know about all the bad things you did. Everyone is talking.” Her voice held a desperate pleading quality. “You’re my friend, but we—we can’t stay friends if you’re going to act this way.”

“I’m trying to change here, Jenna. I have changed.” He pressed the heels of his hands against his forehead. “I know this summer has been a mistake.”

Her lips pressed together, disbelief evident in her features, like she didn’t have any faith in him. Didn’t she know who he really was?

“Jenna, I’ve realized something. That’s why I came here tonight. To talk to you. To tell you I don’t want to be just your friend.” He leaned toward her, close enough to be enveloped by her floral perfume. “Please.”

She studied him for a long moment. She turned her head away. “You need to go. You’re scaring me.” Her voice fused with fear.

He had seen his life as being at a crossroads that night. He was looking for a safe harbor to escape the destructive storm he had created. Her friendship had always been a stabilizing force in his life. After two weeks apart, he had thought maybe he knew what she meant to him. He had gone there with plans to kiss her for the first time, to let her see how important she was, how badly he needed her help. Apparently, the friendship had just been about fun to her. She hadn’t been willing to listen to him or weather the challenge he faced. Her rejection had propelled him back to his drinking buddies.

Though he had been angry at the time, he took responsibility for the arrest that had happened later that night. Looking back, he was glad it had happened. It had been a wake-up call. When his legal entanglements had been addressed, he enlisted. By the time he was finished with boot camp, he had gotten help and sobered up.

But the way Jenna had abruptly and completely cut him out of her life was what he could not get past. She hadn’t come to see him in jail and wouldn’t come to the phone when he’d called to say goodbye, as if all five summers together were washed away by one month of bad choices. She didn’t stick around long enough to see that he had changed.

The image of her turning her head to one side was as vivid as if it had happened yesterday. Keith clenched his jaw. He squeezed out more blue paint on the palette. His brush made broad, intense strokes across the canvas.

If Jenna hadn’t cut him out of her life, things would have been different. They would have stayed in touch. She would have known he’d gotten his act together shortly after that night.

Though the death of his friend had triggered his drinking, the emptiness of never having known his father had laid the foundation. If AA had taught him anything, he knew he couldn’t blame Jenna for his life choices. But still, he had been vulnerable with her, revealed his true feelings. And he had been rejected. He would never put himself in a place where she could hurt him like that again.

He had dated other women in the twelve years since he’d left Hope Creek in disgrace. Some had broken up with him and he had ended other relationships, but nothing had hurt as much as her turning away from him that night.

He flexed his fingers to try to work out the ache in them. Even though he had stripped down to his T-shirt, the attic space was still hot. He collapsed in a chair and stared at the work he had done so far. It was an okay landscape, but nothing that threatened Charlie Russell’s reputation.

Apparently sensing Keith’s distress, Jet rose from the bed and padded over to his owner. He rested his head on Keith’s leg, licked his chops and let out a sympathetic whine. Keith stroked Jet’s smooth, soft head, the movement drawing his attention to his wrist.

He ran his fingers along the braided scar that started there and moved up the inside of his arm to the crook of his elbow. He had an identical scar on the other arm, only not as far up. Scars on his chest, as well, showed where the power of the blast had embedded debris.

His life had changed in an instant by a roadside bomb. Both arms had been blown apart by the explosion. The speed at which they had moved him off the battlefield and a skillful surgeon had saved his life and his arms. He had lost some strength and dexterity and the scars would be there forever. But he thanked God every day that he was alive.

He didn’t realize it at the time, but God had brought a father replacement into his life in the form of a caring drill sergeant, who helped him find his sobriety while still in boot camp. But it wasn’t until his tour in Iraq and the accident that his understanding of God had changed. When he was in rehab staring at a hospital ceiling, he had found the faith that his grandparents had modeled summer after summer. Like his grandfather, he didn’t talk much about his faith, though he felt it deeply.

Keith wiped the sweat from his brow and stared at the eagle soaring in the immense painted sky. Despite his attempts to forget, he did remember Jenna; and now every detail of their summers together came at him like a flood. He hadn’t thought he would ever see her again. He had assumed she would leave for college and never come back. There was nothing to keep her in this dinky town. Her mom had died when she was two and though she’d been close to her father, the man had always encouraged her to follow her dreams.

He had come back to Hope Creek for two reasons: to make amends to his grandparents for the damage he had done when he was seventeen, and for the solitude. Iraq had been more than he had bargained for. He needed time to sort through his life and find his bearings again. Jenna hadn’t been on the agenda. How was it possible that with all that had happened, the dormant attraction could be revived just by seeing her?

Keith rose to his feet and picked up his brush. Maybe he should just paint over that eagle. He stood back to examine his work. No, the bird looked right flying up there in the huge sky. He dipped the tip of his brush in the blue and mixed it with white.

Someone rapped gently on the outside door. Who on earth would be knocking at this hour? Keith’s chest tightened. Maybe there had been an emergency with Gramps or Grandma.

He grabbed his long-sleeved shirt and raced over to the door.

When the door swung open, Keith’s jaw dropped, and he took a step back. “Jenna. What are you doing here?”

Keith’s reaction to the sight of her was a lot calmer than she had expected, considering the hour. He seemed surprised, but not displeased to see her. Even though he was barefoot, it didn’t look like he had been sleeping. Streaks of paint decorated the thighs of his faded jeans. His brow glistened with sweat, yet he wore a long-sleeved shirt.

“Someone broke into the center…and into my house. They left this note on the computer.” The trembling in her hands made the sheet waver.

Keith took the piece of paper she’d printed out.

“I know it’s late, but I thought you should see that.” Jenna’s legs were still wobbly, and her stomach had tied itself into knots. Right now, it didn’t feel like she would ever eat again.