The Correspondent, page 4
part #1 of Emerson Pass Contemporaries, Book Four Series
I wouldn’t have eaten alone in my room. I’d been planning on a boozy dinner in the bar, but I didn’t want to be rude. “Sure, I’d love to.” Not exactly love, but a free meal was always welcome.
The elevator doors opened, and Huck stepped aside so I could go in first. I punched the eighth-floor button. Growing up, I’d coveted pressing any buttons, and I found that to this day I still enjoyed it. The therapist I went to a few years back had said I enjoyed childlike activities because I’d never felt safe to be a child in my mother’s chaotic world. She was right, obviously.
“There’s a steak house across the street that’s supposedly the talk of the town.” Huck rolled his eyes in time to the elevator doors closing. “Of Louisville, mind you.”
“Do they have vegetarian dishes?” I asked out loud.
“You’re a vegetarian?”
I did a double-take to see if he was joking. He wasn’t—if the deep furrows in his forehead were any indication. “Yes, I’ve been a vegetarian the whole time I’ve worked for you.” Hadn’t he noticed all the salads I brought into the office? Or the pita bread and hummus?
“I’m sure they’ll have a few veggie dishes. They usually do these days, don’t they?” He sounded bored with the subject. Sometimes I felt like a gnat flying around his big head. All right, it wasn’t really big. In fact, it was quite well-shaped, like the rest of him. Not that I noticed or anything.
The elevator doors opened, saving me from having to answer. How could he not know I was a vegetarian? I mean, sure, he didn’t like me, but it wasn’t as if we hadn’t spent a lot of hours together in the office. I was invisible to him. Why that bothered me, I couldn’t say. I didn’t like him, either. So, yeah, whatever. I’d take a free dinner, and in a few weeks, I’d be a free woman. No more Huck Clifton.
Our rooms were next to each other at the far end of the hallway. His came first, but instead of stopping there as I figured he would, he walked me to my door. “I’ll come by in a few minutes,” Huck said.
In my room, I tugged off my boots and plopped on the bed just to feel the softness of the comforter and mattress. I loved hotel rooms. This one was posh with crisp white everything and smelled of lemons. Did they pipe that in? If so, I needed to get some for my apartment.
My eyes were tired and itchy. I’ll just close them for a moment, I thought. Next thing I knew, someone was knocking on the door. I shot upright. Crap, it was time to go, and I’d fallen asleep. I sprang from the bed and grabbed my camera bag. Glancing in the mirror quickly, I fluffed my bangs back over my scar and then grabbed a gloss to smooth over my lips. I didn’t look too disheveled from my nap. Anyway, no one noticed the photographer. It was my job to notice them.
I yanked open the door to see an impatient Huck staring at his phone, his shoulders hunched over and a crease on his forehead. “Late, as usual?”
“Sorry, I fell asleep.” I slung the shoulder strap of my camera bag over my shoulder. “But I’m ready.”
He nodded and strode toward the elevator. After he pushed the button, he said, “Are you always a napper? I never can fall asleep even if I’m dog-tired.”
“I can fall into a deep and satisfying slumber at any moment. Courtesy of my three jobs.”
“You’ve been working late at the bar.” Not a question. He’d noticed that?
“I’ve had to pick up a lot of extra work since the fire. The money’s too good to pass up, so whenever anyone calls, I always take the shift. How did you know?”
“I’ve been in the office a few nights when you got home,” Huck said.
“How come?”
“There’s no one else to do the job, so if I want the paper out on time, I have to do it.”
The elevator jerked slightly and then began to descend.
“Are you going to quit the job at the bar?” Huck asked.
“Well, um, I’m not sure,” I said.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and leaned against the wall of the elevator. “So, you’d prefer waiting tables to working for me? That’s the job you’re going to keep?” His tone sounded incredulous. Had he ever worked for himself?
I didn’t answer for a moment as I thought about what to say. This was my chance to stick it to him as I’d planned. Somehow, it didn’t seem like as much fun as I’d thought. There was something about him that seemed different in my eyes. I couldn’t pinpoint it precisely, other than the way his shoulders seemed to droop with fatigue. Was he depressed? Was that what made him so mean?
“I’ve been a jerk. You can say it,” Huck said, disrupting the awkward silence.
“It’s not the work at the paper but, to be perfectly honest, yes, working for you is hard.” I spoke in gentle tones, but the truth was the truth. He was a bear most days.
“I’m just hard in general,” Huck said. “These days anyway. Believe it or not, I used to be kind of fun.”
I couldn’t believe that. Not at all.
“Come on, let’s get this over with,” Huck said as the elevator doors opened into the lobby of the hotel.
Get it over with? Regardless of Huck, I was going to enjoy every minute of it.
Huck gestured for me to follow him to Garrett’s table. “Hey, Dad. You remember Stormi?”
“Yes, of course. Stormi, so nice to see you,” Garrett said. “Thanks for coming all this way. My wife tells me you’re joining us for dinner?” He flashed a nice smile. He was handsome, with a sculpted bone structure and dark complexion that he’d passed on to his son. His brown hair was sprinkled with silver. Fine lines tapered out from the corners of his eyes and crinkled attractively when he smiled. He was as gregarious and personable as Huck was tetchy and antisocial. Weird.
“Yes, thank you for the invitation,” I said. “I’m looking forward to a decadent meal.” Why had I said it as if I were an impoverished waif? Maybe I was.
“My wife says I don’t do enough celebrating, so she likes to mark the occasion,” Garrett said before turning to Huck. “How was the drive?”
“Nothing of note,” Huck said.
“Other than a beautiful young lady by your side?” Garrett directed his sunny smile my way once again.
“Stormi’s here to take photographs,” Huck said, in a terse tone that implied I was not a friend.
“Excellent. Would you mind getting some photos of the family at dinner?” Garrett asked. “Our daughter’s flying in for the celebration, and we rarely have the opportunity.”
“I’d be honored,” I said.
“Wonderful.” Garrett tapped the top of one stack of books. “I don’t suppose you’d want a copy?”
I pulled my copy from my camera bag. “I already have one. I’d love a signature, though.”
“You read my books?” Garrett asked, sounding genuinely surprised.
“You’re one of my favorite authors. I love mysteries, so I’m thrilled to be here today.”
“I’m amazed. I didn’t know any of my readers were under forty.” Garrett chuckled as he took the book from my outstretched hand. “My son here doesn’t like my books—thinks they’re too pedestrian for his sharp mind.”
“That’s not what I think,” Huck said stiffly. “I don’t have time to read fiction, that’s all.”
Garrett looked as if he wanted to say something else but instead seemed to make a concerted effort to change the subject by asking how to spell my last name. “Is Stormi your real name or a nickname?”
“Real. There was a storm the night I was born. My mother always said it was the perfect name for my attitude.”
Huck laughed.
I shot him a dirty look.
“Well, if she meant dramatic and striking, then I’d have to agree.” Garrett grinned and handed me back the copy of the book.
“I’d love to ask you about how you get your ideas,” I said to Garrett. “Sometime. Not now.” I flushed. Garrett was so charming I’d lost my head for a moment.
“Anytime, Stormi. Perhaps you could come out to the house one of these weekends. Sally loves to show off her cooking.”
“I’d love it,” I said, smiling back at him.
“Doors open in a minute.” Huck spoke as if we’d violated some code. “No more time to chat. Stormi, can you get photos of the crowds coming in?”
“You should ask her nicely,” Garrett said. “More bees with honey, you know.”
“Dad, really?”
I scurried away, not wanting to get in the middle of any family drama. I’d walked away from all that the last time I’d talked to my mother.
The double doors into the ballroom opened, and a swarm of people flocked toward Garrett’s table. I took photos, smiling behind the camera at the hum of excitement and delighted expressions of the readers.
“He’s so handsome,” one woman said to her friend.
“Too bad he’s married to Sally.” She said “Sally” as if she knew her. The Cliftons had done a good job of that, I thought, making readers feel as if they were part of their lives.
I took some photos of Garrett signing books before going around to take some of the other authors. I’d gotten to most of the tables when a burst of familiar laughter drew my attention. I looked over to see Brandi and Crystal talking in the corner. They waved me over. Happy to see familiar faces, I joined them. Just for a few minutes, I told myself. I didn’t want to neglect my duties and give Huck something to chastise me for.
“Stormi, it’s great to see you.” Crystal drew me into a quick hug. She was tall and slender, with long limbs that had once walked runways in Europe. With long sun-streaked light hair and big eyes, her bone structure and fair skin seemed carved from ivory. I’d have loved to photograph her. I had no problem imagining how others had wanted to as well.
Brandi hugged me as well. “How are you?”
“I’m fine. Here to take photos for the paper.” I don’t know why I always felt apologetic on occasions such as these, as if I didn’t belong when in reality I was here doing a job.
“It’s great to see you. I’ve been so busy since the baby came that I haven’t had a chance to go out with the gang.” Brandi was of average height but seemed dwarfed next to Crystal. Her dewy skin and long, shiny blond hair could have been photographed for an advertisement on the benefits of a healthy lifestyle. Her slender figure did not indicate that she made her living as a baker. Perhaps she didn’t sample the product too often?
“I was surprised Huck asked me to come since I gave my notice this morning,” I said.
“I wondered why he was grumpier than usual,” Brandi said.
“How can you tell?” Crystal asked. “He always seems about the same level of grumpy.”
They giggled together. I didn’t find it as funny as they did. They hadn’t had to work for him all these months or been the source of his wrath.
Our conversation meandered to discussion of the new gallery. Both ladies were excited about the grand opening party next month. Crystal had wanted a champagne and hors d’oeuvre type of reception to celebrate her mother’s dream of opening a gallery to feature local artists as well as others.
“I cannot wait,” Brandi said. “And don’t worry, Stormi, I got your order the other day. We’ll do something really special.” We’d asked Brandi’s bakery to make appetizers and tea-sized sandwiches for the party at a discount. The bar and grill had agreed to give us wine and beer at cost. I loved our small town. Everyone was willing to pitch in when they were needed.
“We should go,” Crystal said, explaining to me that their babies were upstairs in the hotel room with a nanny. “We’ll see you later at dinner.”
I was about to head over to Garrett’s table to take more photographs when Huck’s mother sauntered over to say hello, greeting me as if I were an old friend. Although I’d seen her around town a few times, I hadn’t gotten a good look at her until today. She wasn’t what I’d have thought Huck’s mother would be like. Small and tanned, she was dressed in an impeccable light pink suit that I suspected was an expensive designer brand I would never be able to afford. Say what you will about designer clothes. They hung off a person just right if the woman before me was any indication.
“Are you enjoying yourself so far?” She dazzled me with a bright smile that went perfectly with her husband’s. She had straight, perfect white teeth, and her brown hair was fixed in attractive waves that hung just below her chin. I didn’t think she’d had any work done on her face, but she seemed younger than she should be to have a son in his early thirties. Maybe she’d had him in her teens? No, that wasn’t right, I thought. The back cover blurb on Garrett said they’d met in college and married soon after graduation. That would put her in her early twenties before she’d had Huck.
“Yes, I’ve never been to anything like this before. And, I’m a big fan of your husband’s books.”
“Isn’t that wonderful? Garrett loves his readers. I hope dinner won’t be boring for you.” She said this last bit as if the thought had just occurred to her.
“I’m never bored,” I said. “People always interest me.”
“Really?” Her eyes squinted slightly as she seemed to consider this. “That’s an admirable quality.”
“Thank you.”
“Tell me, if you don’t mind—how do you think Huck’s doing lately? He hardly comes by the house. Since he came back from Afghanistan, he’s like a shell of his former self. The prickly kind of shell.” A sadness settled in her eyes.
“I don’t know him that well, so I wouldn’t be able to say for sure. He’s not much of a talker. To me, at any rate.”
“Is that your polite way of saying he’s kind of a jerk?” Her eyes sparkled with humor, erasing her concern for a moment.
“No, no. I wouldn’t say jerk. Not exactly.”
“It’s all right, sweetie. We know him.” A tiny crease in her forehead near her temple twitched. “Believe it or not, he was not like this as a little boy.”
The idea of Huck as a little boy had never occurred to me. I couldn’t imagine him as small and sweet. “What was he like?” I had to ask. My natural curiosity made it impossible not to.
“Have you ever met someone who seems too sensitive for the world? Too aware of everything?”
Only myself, I thought, but said out loud, “How do you mean?”
“He would cry watching some benign children’s show because one of the characters had endured an injustice of some kind. The smallest thing. My daughter, Josie, was the opposite. She never seemed to notice anything bad in the world, just laughed and danced her way through life. She’s still doing that. But my boy? He took everything so hard—noticed details I would never have expected from a child. Although I don’t know why I was so surprised by this. His father’s the same way. It’s what makes them good writers. But don’t let his grouch exterior fool you. Inside he’s hurting.” Her voice had softened as she described Huck. “I wish I knew how to reach him. He’s been avoiding us, I think, because we know him the best. He doesn’t want us probing around in there.”
“In there?”
“His head, I mean. His feelings. Memories, too. If it weren’t for Breck and Trapper, I’d be even more worried about him. Their friendship keeps him from being too isolated. They’d never let anything happen to him.”
Happen to him? What did she mean by that? For the second time that day, it occurred to me that he was depressed. Suicidal? My stomach clenched at the thought. “I wish I could help, but as I mentioned, Huck’s not my biggest fan.”
“How could he not be fond of you? You’re absolutely adorable and so talented. The paper’s never had photographs like the ones you take in its entire history.” She touched her fingertips to my shoulder in an affectionate, motherly way that made my eyes scratchy.
“Thank you for saying that, but I can be overly combative. I’m sure that hasn’t helped.” My throat felt sore and tight. I wished I could melt into Sally’s embrace. She would be so comforting. What a lucky girl her daughter was.
“You might be surprised at what he really thinks about you and a lot of other things,” Sally said. “It’s a pity he never lets anyone in. It’s easier for him to hold everyone at arm’s length. Especially now. After what happened over there, I mean.”
“Do you know what happened to him?” Was there a particular incident? I was afraid to seem like I was poking my nose in where it didn’t belong, but my curiosity about Huck took precedent.
“He won’t talk about it.” She glanced over at her husband, who was still signing books. “Garrett says it reminds him of the way his grandfather was after he came home from fighting in World War II. He never said a word about any of it, but everyone knew he’d seen and done things over there he could never forget. War, you know. No one gets out without wounds of some kind.”
I nodded sympathetically. “Sadly, no.”
“For a man like Huck, there’s not much chance of him recovering fully. I didn’t want him to take the assignment. In fact, I begged him not to go. We got into a big thing over it, which broke my heart. He left the country angry with me. Every night I was down on my knees asking God to take care of him since I no longer could. But when your kids have dreams, they become yours too. Even if the pursuit of those dreams worries you sick.” She blinked and pushed her curls away from her face. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m talking about all this. You have a sympathetic face.”
I did? My own mother always told me I had the kind of face people wanted to slap.
“You must tell me more about yourself,” Sally said. “And forgive me for my rudeness.”
I shared a few details of my life, including art school and the decision to move out to Colorado. “I wanted to get as far away from my mother as I could.” I hadn’t meant to say that last part. Right away I wished I hadn’t. Sally’s face fell. She raised a hand to her neck and fiddled with the collar of her pink jacket.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Sally said. “That must be hard for you.”
“It was. Not anymore. I’ve moved on.”
“What happened between you, if I may ask?”
