Mosaic - Jeri Taylor [56]
CHAPTER 14
A GRACEFUL SUMMER NIGHT'S BREEZE RUSTLED THE DROOPING branches of the weeping willow tree. On its gentle billows was borne the fragrance of Indiana: dusky herbs, heady floral scents, the fresh earthy smell of loam. As a little girl Kathryn had believed those aromas had healing powers; they could banish headaches and heartaches if you breathed them deeply enough.
And now, here she was, an adult of eighteen, still wanting to believe in the curative powers of those comforting scents, sprawling in her childhood hiding place and hoping to recapture some of the solace of those long-ago moments.
She felt dead inside. She was to leave tomorrow morning to report to Starfleet Academy, the first step in the fulfillment of her youthful dreams, but anticipation of the moment held no joy for her. She would go, because she was dutiful, and she would apply herself, because she was disciplined. But she couldn't imagine that there would be any satisfaction in any of it.
The crack of a twig made her jerk upright and peer through the darkness. Had she imagined it? Or was someone walking toward the tree through the corn rows? She squinted, trying to discern a human form among the tall stalks, which rustled in the breeze and cast dancing shadows on the moonlit ground.
She heard the sound again, and was sure of it; someone was coming toward her. She froze, motionless, not fearful because there was nothing to fear, but resentful of having her interlude broken. There was no one she wanted to talk with at this moment.
"Kath?" The voice emerged from the corn rows. "Are you there? I don't want to frighten you."
Kathryn exhaled. Hobbes Johnson. Maybe if she held very still, he wouldn't see her in the tree.
His dark figure emerged from the corn and looked upward. She couldn't tell whether he could see her or not.
"I don't want to intrude. I just thought I'd say goodbye, since you're off to school tomorrow." She was silent, hoping he'd leave. There was a moment's silence.
"Anyway," he continued, "I wish you the best. I hope we can stay friends." There was a moment of silence, then, "Well, so long. I know you'll do well."
And the figure turned and headed back toward the corn. Kathryn sat upright. "Hobbes-?"
He turned. "So you are there. I thought you might be. But if you'd rather be alone, I understand."
Suddenly she didn't want to be alone. She hopped off her branch and jumped down to the ground. "Please don't go," she said sincerely. "I'd love to talk."
She saw him smile in the moonlight and move back toward her. Hobbes wasn't nearly as vulky as he had been as a child, but he would never make anyone's heart beat harder. He was still thin, though his teeth didn't protrude any longer and his skin had cleared up. His hair was still impossible, but then so was hers.
However, he still looked as though he simply didn't care what people thought of him. His hair was long, and somewhat unkempt; he kept running his fingers through it to keep it out of his eyes. "I was thinking about you," he said, "and I remembered how I was feeling two years ago when I left for college. It was kind of scary. And while you don't strike me as someone who's easily frightened, I just thought I'd say good luck."
She felt an unaccustomed rush of gratitude. Hobbes wasn't handsome, and he wasn't exciting, but he was a good and decent person. She plopped down on the ground with her back against the tree and gestured for him to join her. "That's really nice, Hobbes. I guess I am feeling a little-was She hesitated. What was she feeling, exactly? Heartsick? Lonely? Scared? Depressed? She laughed slightly and shook her head.
"I'm feeling something, but darned if I can tell you what it is." He smiled in return. "You've been through a lot this summer." Her head jerked around to him. What did he mean? Was he talking about Cheb? About her father? About school? She didn't respond.