Page 4 of Rock and a Hard Place

“That’s Garrett,” he said under his breath. “Ignore him.

He can be a jerk.”

“Lover boy, Mom said it’s time to eat.”

Libby pulled her knees in and hugged them. She couldn’t see any resemblance between Garrett and Peter.

“I’m coming.” Peter got to his feet and turned toward Libby. “I’ve gotta go, but maybe I’ll see you later.”

She smiled and nodded. She’d love to see him, more than he’d ever know.

Libby checked her watch. “Oh my God, I didn’t realize how late it’s getting. I’ve gotta go, too.” If she didn’t leave right now, she’d get the third degree. She flipped the sketch pad closed and gathered her belongings.

“Here.” Peter extended a hand to her, his expression sweet and his face close.

“Thanks.” She grasped his strong hand and stood up, relishing the touch of his skin.

“It was fun talking to you. I wish I’d bumped into you sooner,” he said.

Was he actuallydisappointed to see her go?

“Who knows? Maybe I’ll see you again someday.” He smiled as if he really meant it.

“Maybe.” She couldn’t imagine it happening, but for the first time in months she felt hopeful—happy, even.

“Have fun on your tour.” She dumped the weeds and wildflowers onto the ground. “I’ve gotta go.”

She hesitated for a moment, not wanting this to end. It had been a very long time since she’d relaxed and hung out with anyone, let alone a nice guy.

“Well, bye.” She ran down the trail into the woods. Once in the thick of the trees, she turned back. Peter stood in the same spot, holding one of the wildflowers she’d left behind. He waved. She waved back, then disappeared into the woods.

Libby took the long way, so Peter wouldn’t see where she lived.

***

Libby braced herself as she approached the beat-up old farmhouse. It loomed forgotten on acres of rich farmland and wooded areas. Most of the land was leased to a farmer, who benefited from the fertile soil. From what she could tell, this was her aunt’s sole method of income. The rest of the property, barn, and outbuildings sat abandoned with a collection of broken-down cars littering the yard. The odor of leakingoil and rusted metal clung to the air. A vegetable garden had once flourished, but that must have been years ago.

She didn’t know why her aunt had let it all fall apart, but her parents always said Aunt Marge struggled with demons early in life and never recovered from the fight. Libby heaved a sigh and inserted her key into the lock on the paint-chipped door.

Upon entering, the familiar smell of stale smoke and reeking trash filled the air. The television blared in the next room, confirming her aunt’s presence. Libby hoped to sneak upstairs unnoticed.

“Don’t forget to lock the door behind you. We can’t be taking any chances,” the gritty voice of her aunt hollered from the sickeningly sweet smoke-filled living room. “People are getting murdered in their beds every day.”

“It’s locked,” Libby said, resigned. The house was dark, as always. Aunt Marge kept the curtains closed, as if anyone would want to watch a middle-aged woman drink and watch television all day.

“Come in here.”

Libby dropped her backpack at the foot of the steps and dragged her feet as she entered the living room. Aunt Marge reclined in an upholstered chair, her feet on a mismatched ottoman. A dented TV tray served as her coffee table, cluttered with a lighter, a pack of cigarettes, a bottle of whiskey, and a dirty glass.

“What’s wrong?” her aunt demanded while clenching a cigarette between her thin, stained lips.

“Nothing,” she mumbled, pushing her long hair behind an ear as she tolerated the inspection.

“You’re not lying to me, are you?” Aunt Marge’s eyes narrowed. “I hate liars.”

“No, I would never lie to you. I just have a lot of homework.”

She grunted in reply. “There’s groceries on the counter if you’re hungry. Now get upstairs and finish your work. You know I won’t tolerate laziness. You prove to those school people you’re doing just fine. I don’t need them snooping around here again.” She picked up the television remote and started snapping it at the television, effectively dismissing her.

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