Page 35 of The Heiress
“Phoenix?” Elisha had slowed right down, looking down at her pristine sneakers, totally unsuitable for a lake walk, crisp and white minutes ago, now speckled by the dirt and gravel of the trail. “Your Mom said you were in a car accident?”
“Did she?” I said, stopping dead in my tracks. Betrayal flared, a jolt that Mom had been disloyal in revealing my accident, even though it was common knowledge.
“Yeah. I’m sorry. It sounds like it’s been a long recovery.”
“Yeah. When your pelvis breaks and it needs a plate and screws to hold it together and you have to spend months in bed and then you have to learn to walk again...Yeah, I guess you could say it’s been long.” Bitter sarcasm dripped from my words like a melting ice cream cone on a hot summer’s day. The thing is, it was totally unwarranted; for once Elisha’s words had been kind, mine the toxic ones.
The next moments of silence were fraught with an awkwardness that sent my heart hammering in my chest. I think I’d just unleashed my inner most thoughts, my most private pain, voiced the source of my frustration into existence.
And to a girl whose ice cold blood was probably immune to trauma.
Panic engulfed me because I could feel tears welling, and my most immediate thought wasnotto wipe my eyes because that would only bring attention to the fact that I was about to cry. And yet, at the same time, my feet were refusing to budge. Like they were stuck in concrete, the universe somehow getting back at me. Not only the way I’d just spoken to Elisha, but every aggrieved thought I’d had toward my mother in the past six months, no matter how unintentional, no matter that I didn’t want to feel that way...
I closed my eyes, not to block the tears—-okay, to block the tears—but also hoping that Elisha would live up to her reputation and storm off. Leave me be, because I deserved that. My situation wasn’t her fault, yet I’d acted as if it was.
“Well, you’re doing really well.” Her voice was as soft as a breeze, almost unrecognizable. “Like, since you first started school until now, I can see you’re doing amazing.” And then her hand slipped into mine, a gentle touch, her palm against mine, her fingers feathering mine.
My eyes flicked open and I was stunned and breathless all at once, some part of my brain telling me to pull away, to remove my hand...but another part of me was paralyzed, lacking oxygen, savoring the moment,not wanting to let go.
I looked down at our hands, clasped like they were superglued together, her skin so soft, so warm. It didn’t feel like ice was running through their veins; no, she radiated sunshine and light and blazing heat. My eyes lifted, tentative, nervous, expecting to see a look of pity, but Elisha held my gaze, pulled me in with her deep brown eyes—and submerged me. Yeah, I was on dry land but I was drowning, gasping for air.
“Sorry,” I croaked, my voice thick and dry and unfamiliar. “I didn’t mean to lay that on you.”
Her fingers squeezed mine, and it was as if in that moment my fears, my anger, my pain, my walls dissipated.
An approaching chatter of voices caused us to simultaneously separate as a family with a baby stroller came from behind. We both returned the greeting to the young couple as they passed us by, two young boys racing ahead. A series of quick footsteps followed and Mom was jogging to catch up, coming in between the two of us.
“Oh,” she huffed as we all fell into an easy pace, “not what I wanted to deal with today, but—”
“Is everything okay?” I asked, suddenly not sure if the last few minutes had happened. Elisha was walking as if entranced by the nature around us.
“Yes, just a client wanting another option for candles,” she said dismissively, “You’re taking it easy, I hope?”
“Some four year olds just passed us, so yeah, I’m taking it easy,” I said.
Elisha laughed. “I think they were older than that.”
I cast a glance across to her, but she was smiling at the ground. If it wasn’t for the electrifying chill vibrating through my whole body, I would have questioned my sanity at that point.
“I think we’ll do the lower path,” Mom said as we came to the fork in the trail, “the weather looks like it might close in. Don’t want to get caught in the rain.”
It was a politer way of saying ‘the shorter path will be easier for Phoenix,’ but it didn’t bother me because I was not quite in the realms of reality, Elisha’s touch still seared upon my palm like a tattoo.
Mom gave Elisha a running commentary on the lake, the town and its history. I couldn’t concentrate, in a spin trying to settle my heart rate. Except my ears perked up when Mom asked Elisha when her parents were returning from London.
“I’m not sure,” Elisha said. “Dad has business, so who knows?”
“I spent a year in London after I finished college,” Mom said. “I loved it there.”
“I love it too,” Elisha said.
“You travel a lot?” Mom, ever nosy, asked.
I looked across to see Elisha nodding.
“When I was there, I spent a summer traveling through Europe,” Mom said. “Phoe and I have always planned to go to Wimbledon, haven’t we, Phoe? Maybe next summer?”
I nodded half-heartedly, a little annoyed that Mom was now revealing my childhood dream. Wimbledon was one of the oldest tennis tournaments in the world and considered the most prestigious by many. Every budding tennis player dreamed of holding up the trophy, me included. But it was played on grass courts, a surface I’d never had the chance to play on. The Covington Country Club had hard, clay and indoor courts.
