Chapter 10

10

A quick week later and they were together again, cruising down the highway toward Rockville in a sporty red Jeep. "Nice wheels." Libby ran her fingertips over the butter-soft leather seat.

"Thanks." He grinned.

Peter pushed his hair to the side, unaware of how great he looked. He held the steering wheel casually, the seat belt snug across his narrow hips.

"If you're hoping to keep a low profile, I don't think this is the best way." The flashy red Jeep would stand out in small-town Rockville. The country roads led to the heart of historic downtown.

"I couldn't resist. I can park in a dark alley if you want," Peter said.

"I'm not worried about me; I just figured you wanted to keep things quiet. "

"Fans expect to see Jamieson as a group, not one of us out alone wandering middle America. Plus, I brought a hat."

Libby shifted comfortably in her seat. Tonight was just them, flying under the radar. She'd managed to avoid Aunt Marge this afternoon. With any luck, the woman would be strung out and oblivious to Libby's whereabouts. If not, well, Libby didn't care anymore. She'd turn seventeen next summer, and that was practically eighteen.

"Turn right at the stop sign, at Fourth Street. It takes you straight to Main." Her breath caught in her throat at the thought of driving into the heart of town with Peter Jamieson. She felt the need to pinch herself.

They drove down the quiet neighborhood streets lined with giant oaks. Old Victorian homes stood witness as they passed. A bend in the street led them over an old stone bridge and the Rock River.

"This place is amazing. It's like stepping back in time."

"It is pretty." Libby absorbed it with fresh eyes. She always thought of Rockville as a purgatory she'd been forced to endure, not a quaint little town.

They drove past the town square, where a pavilion graced the center, and stone benches were scattered in the tree-filled park. Fall leaves coated everything.

"It looks like a cool hangout place. Do you spend much time here?"

"Nope," she answered without regret. "It's too far from my aunt's house, almost five miles. I ride the bus to school and don't have my license, let alone a car to drive." She stopped asking permission to get her license months ago. Aunt Marge said it would only lead to bad behavior.

At first, Libby didn't care about getting her license. She worried driving might be a constant reminder of the accident. The pungent smell of gasoline at the crash still haunted her. However, her tolerance of Aunt Marge's bizarre rules was wearing thin. Since the issue with her dad's letters, she couldn't care less what her aunt said or thought.

"That's why I hang out at Parfrey's Glen. Anywhere else is too far."

Peter reached over and held her hand, which amazed her every time. It was as if he could transfer all his strength and confidence to her. She was finding her power again.

After a turn onto Main Street and past a handful of shops, the lights of Ed's Drive-in appeared.

"That must be it." Peter approached the drive-up restaurant. A handful of cars occupied spots, each with food trays attached to their windows.

"Yep." Libby nodded.

"This is going to be fun." Peter pulled into the lot and parked farthest from the restaurant and the bulk of the other cars.

After checking out the menu, Peter placed their order through a little metal box with a crackly speaker.

"Get cheese curds, too," Libby added .

Peter gave her a crooked look. "It's a Wisconsin thing, right?"

"Oh yeah." She and her dad shared some here the day he dropped her off.

They sat in the Jeep and talked about everything and nothing at all, oblivious to the other diners. When the food arrived, the twenty-something waitress looked twice at Peter but said nothing. As she walked away, she glanced back at him and then Libby, obviously weighing the likelihood of the recognized face belonging to the real Peter Jamieson.

"People don't expect to see me, so they don't."

Peter was here to see Libby and she wanted everyone in town to know it, but she didn't want to share him, either. She coveted their every moment.

Together, they stuffed themselves with greasy food until Libby thought she'd burst. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten out.

"So you aren't one of those girls who barely eats on a date?"

"Why wouldn't I eat?" She sucked the last of her chocolate malt from the bottom of the glass, creating a hollow suction sound with her straw.

Peter laughed. "I don't know. I guess some girls don't want guys to see them eating."

Libby stirred the straw around the glass, scooting the last bits of malt together. "I love food." She handed the empty glass back for him to place on the tray.

"Where to next?" Peter asked.

"First, the waitress needs to come get the tray off the side of the door. Otherwise, I guarantee you will be noticed driving down the street with a food tray hanging on your window."

"Oh yeah, guess I missed that little detail."

His brief look of embarrassment warmed her heart. The world traveler, Peter Jamieson, didn't know how to do a drive-up restaurant. "Start the car or turn your lights on. She'll come."

Peter started the Jeep; the powerful engine hummed. Within a couple minutes, the waitress returned for their tray. As she lifted it from the window, she eyed Peter again.

"You wouldn't happen to be—"

"Nope," Peter interrupted, then flashed her his famous smile as he put the Jeep in reverse.

The waitress stepped out of the way. Libby saw her glance down at the tray and see the twenty-dollar tip. She looked up at him, her face more confused than ever. Peter backed up and then pulled onto Main Street.

"Which direction is the Trivoli?"

"We're going to a movie?" Libby hadn't seen a movie in ages.

"Of course. It wouldn't be a proper date if we didn't have dinner and a movie."

Libby couldn't have asked for a more perfect night. She directed him farther down Main. They had a half hour before the show started, so Peter parked and they wandered along the river.

"So how did you convince your parents to let you come?" She looped her arm around his.

"I held them at gunpoint," he said with a straight face.

"No, really?" She poked him in the arm.

"It wasn't hard at all . . . considering it's my eighteenth birthday."

Libby stopped. "It's your birthday? When?" She faced him and blocked his path.

"Today."

"You didn't tell me!" She grabbed the front of his leather jacket and tried to give him a good shake.

"What was I supposed to say?" he said, laughing. "It's my birthday, so you have to be really nice to me and bake me a cake?"

"Yes, that's exactly what you were supposed to say," she brooded. "I would have gotten you a present." How, she didn't know. It would have been worth the punishment of cleaning the school lunchroom again. He must have millions of fan who know exactly when his birthday is, yet she didn't.

"Spending time with you is all the present I need." He put his arm around her and pulled her close.

"Well, you need a birthday present. Eighteen is a big deal. When I turn eighteen, the world is going to know."

"My life is filled with ‘over the top.' I wanted something meaningful. "

Libby gazed into his gorgeous blue eyes, then reached and brought his face down to hers. She kissed him sweetly on the mouth. It felt like her birthday today, not his. She reached behind her neck and unhooked her necklace.

"I know this isn't much, but it's one of my favorite things. If it isn't too dorky or weird, I'd like you to have it." She held the pendant out for him. It was one of her most prized possessions.

He touched the onyx carving, strung on a leather cord, and his eyes connected with hers. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she stated. "It's some ancient symbol. It means ‘believe.'"

"It's awesome. Very rock and roll." He rubbed his thumb over the smooth stone.

"You think?" Libby nibbled at her lip. She wanted him to love it as much as she did.

"Yeah." He touched the tip of her nose with his. "Where'd you get it?"

"My mom gave it to me after a trip she and my dad took." She liked how the leather cord lay against Peter's skin.

Peter sighed, his tone serious. "Oh, Libby, are you sure?" His eyes searched hers. "It's too important."

"If you don't want it, that's okay, but if you do, I'd love for you to have it. I don't think it's very girly—I think it was actually meant for a guy—but Mom and I thought it was cool. "

"Yes, I want it." He closed his hand over hers. "And it isn't girly at all. I wondered why you always wore it."

Libby squeezed his hand, glad to share this connection.

Her mom would have liked him a lot.

"Help me." Peter leaned close.

She placed the thin leather cord around his neck and attached the clasp, then stood back. Satisfied, she nodded. "I like it." Her neck felt bare without it, but on Peter the pendant looked perfect, as if created for him alone.

Peter touched the carving against his skin. "Me too." He leaned down and kissed her, sending little thrills through her body.

They left the river behind and meandered down Main Street, his arm slung over her shoulder, and her head resting against him.

"The town is so quiet. Where is everybody on a Friday night?"

"At the football game. The town practically shuts down for Friday night football."

"Would you rather go to the game?"

"No way. Those people mean nothing to me. Plus, you don't have to worry about getting recognized. Everyone under the age of forty is at the game."

"Why don't they mean anything to you?"

"I wasn't born and raised here, and my aunt is a total wack job, so that doesn't help. They know about my family." She stopped talking for a minute. Peter looked down at her, his face sincere. "They don't know the details, just that Mom died and Dad left me here."

Talking about her family hurt. She missed them so much. Her throat tightened.

"Hey, you're not alone anymore. Okay?" He stopped, his eyes focused on hers.

"Okay." They began walking again. Peter put his arm around her and held her close.

She slid her arm around his waist and hooked her thumb in the edge of his back pocket. It felt nice to belong again.

After the movie, Peter drove them back toward the stifling farmhouse. His gut ached thinking of leaving Libby with her aunt who apparently drank all day.

"Are you sure you're okay there?"

"It's fine. I'm used to it." She sighed.

"Well, I've been thinking… Actually, there are two things. First, I think we need to get you out of here." There, he'd said it.

"What are you talking about?" She sat upright and stared at him through the dark.

"It's terrible for you here. You have no ties to anything except your psycho aunt. She sounds like bad news, and honestly, I'm surprised your dad would leave you with her. "

Libby sat silent and contemplated his words. He knew they struck close to home.

"I'm sorry, that was cruel. I'm sure your dad did what he thought best." Peter couldn't imagine how a father could leave his own daughter. If he ever lost Libby, he'd go insane.

"It's okay. I know what you mean. He wasn't in his right mind. I tried to get him to take me with him, but he wouldn't. He seemed to just shut down. He rarely ate and lost a lot of weight. Something inside him just broke."

"Grief is a powerful thing, and you both lost a lot.

Listen, I'm eighteen now, and I want you to come be with me. You'd be safer."

Peter could picture how much fun they'd have together and how happy Libby would be away from Rockville. He hoped she agreed.

She sat, wide-eyed. She opened her mouth to speak and then stopped. He could almost see the wheels turning in her mind.

"I would love to escape this town and be together 24/7, but how would we do that? Where would I live? Would I go on tour with you?" Libby asked the same questions that rolled around his mind.

"I haven't got it figured out, but I'm working on it, and it's going to take some time before I can make it happen."

"Peter, I'd love to run away with you, but somehow I don't think your family would be too keen about some strange girl showing up. What about school? And what about my dad? He's coming back for me. I know he is."

Peter wanted to say that if he hadn't come back in the past year, it wasn't likely he'd return any time soon, but he kept it to himself.

"I know. It's a lot to think about. You're in a bad situation, surrounded by people who don't care about you, but I care, and I want you with me." He reached for her hand and held it firmly. "I've got all kinds of money, and it should be good for something. Maybe it can help get you outta here."

"That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. I'm so happy, I could cry."

"Good. I don't think I could take any more tears. When you live in a house with four guys, crying doesn't exist. Garrett beat that out of me when I was three."

"So what was the other thing you wanted to tell me about?"

Peter couldn't wait to lay this one on her. "I think we should go to your homecoming dance." He waited for her reaction.

Libby stared at him, her mouth agape. "You're nuts. You just agreed I have nothing here, and now you want to go to the Rockville homecoming?"

"Why not go? You mentioned homecoming earlier and I never got the chance to go to a school dance. Don't you think it's something everyone should do once? It would be normal. I never get to be normal, and think how surprised everyone will be to see you with me."

"Aren't we a little full of ourselves?" she teased. "Actually they would be shocked to see me with a date at all. Heck, they'd be shocked to see me out after five o'clock."

"Then it's a date." He wanted Libby by his side. He wanted to show the world his beautiful girlfriend.

"I think you're crazy. How do you know you can even make it? What if you have a concert or something?"

"If I have a concert, then obviously it won't work. I guess we'll have to crash some other school's dance. Get the date, and we'll figure it out from there."

"I'll have to deal with the crazy aunt issue. I'm not sure how tonight is going to go over. I might be locked in the castle tower for the next month."

"Then I'll come rescue you." And he would.

Anywhere.

Anytime.

"Deal."

Peter drove past the entry to the preserve. "Where are you going? You need to drop me off."

"I'm not dropping you off in the woods late at night. I assume your aunt's place is up ahead."

"Yeah, but don't go there. Drop me off at the corner.

I don't want her to see you."

"No." He turned onto the side road that led to the old farmhouse and slowly pulled into the driveway, and then faced Libby.

"This was the best night of my life, you know," she said .

"Me too." Their date far outshone any concert he had ever played. They leaned close, and he put his hand behind her neck, held her gently, and kissed her good night.

Suddenly, Libby's door whipped open, and light flooded the Jeep. A crazed woman, who must be her aunt, glared at them. The whites of her eyes stood out next to her yellowing teeth. Libby cringed and leaned away.

"Where the hell have you been!" the woman shrieked.