Chapter 3

3

A few days later, Libby sat on a giant outcropping of rock at Parfrey's Glen that extended out over the rushing creek. The warm September breeze blew gently through the trees and swept a leaf into the water below. Her eyes followed it, and as it floated along, she pondered the events of the past week. Miss Orman had tried to cheer her up after Libby couldn't support her story about Peter. It all seemed unreal. If she hadn't experienced it herself, she wouldn't believe it, either. Famous people didn't just appear out of nowhere, especially not in Rockville.

But Peter had appeared. And she had spent time with him. He was beautiful and perfect, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so happy. The best part was that he didn't know about her life or that she lived with her crazy aunt Marge. Peter didn't know that her dad's grief was so strong, he'd brought Libby to Wisconsin and left her at his sister-in-law's house before driving off into the depths of depression.

The noise of wind rushing through the trees increased. It sounded like the roar of the nearby highway. Libby lay on the large stone slab, her back warmed by the sun-heated rock. She gazed at the movement of the tree branches overhead as they bent and swayed in the wind. The leaves were a patchwork of green, yellow, and orange. Fall had created a beautiful scene. Her thoughts returned to Peter and how wonderful her life would be if he were in it.

A shadow moved over her and blocked the sun. She jerked onto her elbows to discover the intrusion. People rarely came to this part of the preserve.

"Are you cutting class?" Peter stood before her, a broad smile on his face and the familiar hair falling in his eyes.

"Oh my God!" Libby popped up from her spot. "What are you doing here?"

She never thought she'd see him again. Hoped, yes, but not in her wildest dreams did she believe it could happen. She stared, her mouth agape.

His T-shirt hugged him snug across the chest and shoulders, revealing strong arms. His jeans hung low, his thumbs looped in the top of his pockets. She looked at his handsome face. His eyes sparkled with mischief as the breeze tossed his hair.

"Mom really likes this spot, and now so do I." He grinned and a gorgeous dimple appeared. "We're heading up to Minneapolis for some taping."

"Guess it's my lucky day," she bubbled.

"Guess so." With a devilish grin, he raised an eyebrow. Her stomach did a flip. "How much time do you have?" She got up and wiped her dusty hands on her jeans, then slid them into her back pockets. She stood a few feet away, not sure what to do.

"As long as we want," Peter answered. She beamed.

"Well, an hour, at the most," he corrected, another cute smirk in the corner of his mouth.

"We better not waste time then." They faced each other, a momentary pause and an instant of awkwardness. Libby refused to let this opportunity pass. She broke the silence. "Have you seen the rock formations at the back of the glen?"

"No, but I'd love to."

"It's this way." She tilted her head toward the trail and fought the urge to squeal with joy.

They followed the path through the rocky ravine, the walls progressively greener with rich moss. Every so often, water trickled down the sides, flowing into the stream they walked along. Peter moved next to her, and she tried not to look at him too often.

"You never answered my question," Peter said, stepping over a sharp rock.

"What was that?" Libby glanced up.

"Are you cutting school? It's a Wednesday afternoon, and where I come from, we go to school on Wednesdays."

"No, it's teacher in-service. We get a Wednesday afternoon off once a month so the teachers can meet and talk about how horrible today's youth are."

"You must be at the top of their list." He grinned and held his hand out to help her over the large rocks.

"You have no idea." She placed her hand in his, reveling at his warmth in the cool ravine.

Gravel crunched beneath their feet as they made their way along the crooked path. Occasionally, he bumped her shoulder playfully, as if he wanted to make sure she was still there. Something about him fit. He didn't ask too many questions or judge the things she told him. It had been a long time since someone had accepted her, and the normalcy of it lifted a weight off her heart.

"Tell me again why your family comes here?" She wanted him to say it was so he could see her and then promise they would be here every day.

"They like this spot," Peter said, jumping easily from one boulder to another. "It's close to the interstate, and we pass this way a lot when we're traveling between Chicago and Minneapolis. Mom is always trying to make us feel normal and keep us grounded."

"But you are normal."

"Are you kidding?" He gave her a look of disbelief. "We're far from it."

"But you have a mom and dad and a big family that spends lots of time together." To her, they seemed like the most magical, perfect family, almost as good as hers had once been.

"We spend too much time together." He ran his fingers through his long bangs, pushing them out of the way. "I can't tell you how often I wish I could ditch my family. I never get any privacy."

"That is one thing I have a ton of." She looked out at the creek as it rushed over age-old rocks. Her days were filled with solitude. But sometimes she wished someone special cared about her. It might be nice to have a friend to keep her from spending too much time alone, or to drag her into a game of Frisbee, or to talk to about nothing at all.

Peter's voice brought her out of her silent lament.

"I'd trade my little brother, Adam, for more privacy any day."

They laughed and their eyes connected, giving her another jolt. She thought of her younger sister, Sarah. Libby would trade anything for one more day with her. She swallowed down the hurt she felt whenever she thought of her.

"I shouldn't complain," he continued. "But once in a while, it'd be nice not to have every minute of my life planned."

"What do you mean?" She hopped from one large rock to the next, putting those thoughts behind her.

He considered her carefully. "You really don't get it, do you? "

Her backbone stiffened. "Of course I do." She hated being talked down to. She left his side and moved ahead, jumping from rock to rock as she crossed the stream.

"Don't get all stuck-up on me, but do you really understand what I do?"

"Yeah, you sing with your brothers. You travel around in your bus and perform. I'm not a total moron." Why did he have to show his jerk side? Everything had been perfect.

"I didn't say you were a moron, but there's a lot more to it than that." Peter easily leapt over the rocks to reach her. He held her arm to slow her down. The stream rushed by noisily; the earthy smells of moss and ferns surrounded them.

"Okay, for example, we just came from New York City, where we were on Rock Hits Live."

She stared blankly, arms crossed, refusing to admit her ignorance.

"You don't know what that is?" He shook his head in disbelief. "It's a live music interview show. Do you ever watch TV?" he asked.

Libby huffed a sigh of irritation. "No. I haven't watched TV for over a year. Okay?" Which was true, Aunt Marge's ancient set was always turned to one home shopping network or another.

"Really?" he responded.

She could see the unasked question behind his eyes .

"Okay, listen," he said, determined to help her understand. "We just came out with our third album."

"Yeah, well, anyone can upload music. We have a media class where kids create them for extra credit." Ahead, an enormous boulder dominated the end of the trail; the creek poured out on each side. Libby climbed over the surrounding rocks, reached the top, and sat. Peter followed.

"You're right, it's not that hard to record and upload music. But we've got a major recording contract. We spent a month in the studio recording our latest music. We're doing massive publicity for our new CD."

The more he spoke, the more she noticed a serious side to him. This was his life and clearly his passion. Libby's pulse quickened as she listened. It seemed even more impossible he'd be here talking to her.

"Every day is filled with rehearsals, interviews, and appearances. So between all that work and travel, it doesn't leave much time to think, let alone relax."

Peter's concentration moved from Libby for a moment as he noticed their surroundings. They perched on top of a huge boulder in the heart of the glen. Every inch of the steep, rocky sides dripped with silky moss, and ferns poked out their feathery fronds. The moist scent of the glen's lush vegetation filled the air. A cool mist floated around them. This was Libby's magic place.

"This is amazing." Awe colored his voice.

"Yeah, it is. I'm glad you like it." She leaned back on her hands and inhaled a deep breath of nature's gift. "So, when are you done? When do you go home?" She ran her hand over the cool, gritty rock, afraid to hear the truth.

He flipped his mop of hair out of his face. "We get a couple days to go home to San Antonio here and there, but we're booked solid for the next ten weeks. Then, if everything falls into place, we might be going to Europe for a couple months."

This amazing guy lived his life bigger than her wildest dreams. Maybe she could have thought about travel and making huge plans in the past, but life had delivered a left hook and knocked her off her feet. She wrapped her arms around her knees and held tight.

"Now what's that look for?" he asked, confused, as to what he'd said wrong.

"Nothing. I just didn't know you were such a big deal." Her lips tightened into a thin line. "I must look really boring to you." She wouldn't meet his eyes. Honestly, why was he wasting his time with her?

"I didn't tell you all that to brag, but I figure you should know we're not just another folk group singing on Sundays. Not that there's anything wrong with that. It's just not who we are."

He leaned forward, caught her eye, and refused to look away. "And you're not boring—totally the opposite. It's just that we're always on the go, one rehearsal, taping, or interview after another. All day, every day. We never stop. My dad and Garrett are always plotting and planning the next step of our career." Peter mindlessly rolled a small pebble between his thumb and forefinger.

"Don't you like it?" She searched his eyes trying to understand him.

"Yes, I love it! Are you kidding?" He tossed the pebble to the water below. "I'm living my greatest fantasy. Every day I wake up amazed all this is happening. But it gets exhausting, and sometimes I just want privacy, time to be alone."

He gazed at her. "But times like this, where I'm doing what I want, like sitting with you . . ." He bumped shoulders with her again. "They're the best."

Libby nudged him back. "See, not every minute of your day is planned."

He took her hand and gave it a warm squeeze. She rewarded him with a shy smile. "So what's your favorite part of the band?"

"The best part is performing. I could sing onstage all night. There's such a connection to the music and the audience. It's total euphoria."

They sat atop the giant rock engulfed in the misty, cool beauty of the glen. They relaxed, content in each other's company. Peter ran his thumb over her fingers. Suddenly, he paused and turned her hand over.

"What's this?" he asked innocently.

"Nothing." She snatched her hand away, embarrassed.

"No, give it back." He pulled her hand back into his two and examined the violent bumps. "What are all these marks?"

Her face heated at his question. "It's nothing." She tried to brush it off, but dread crept in.

"It's not nothing. It looks like cuts." He held tight to her hand as he examined it. "You're not a cutter, are you?" He looked her straight in the eye.

"No! Now let go." She tried to pull her hand away, but he wouldn't release her. Libby's happiness spiraled down, the joy of the day gone.

"Well, what happened?"

She understood why he asked. She might ask the same thing. Peter's expression was honest concern, nothing more. "They're scars. From a car accident." She bit her lip, not wanting to reveal any more.

"Oh God, that's terrible." He continued to study her permanently marred fingers and palm. "It must have been a really bad accident."

"Yeah, it was," she whispered as the image of the crumpled car and glow of ambulance lights flashed in her mind. He peeked up at her, past the heavy chunk of hair that covered his eyes. "You know, they look like little starbursts."

"Whatever you say," she replied, staring at her hands and not seeing it.

"Give me the other one," he commanded. For some reason, she obeyed and extended her other hand. He examined both palms, lightly trailing his thumb and fingers over the surface of her skin. Delicate shivers ran up her arms.

"No, they're not starbursts." He continued to touch each mark. "They're angel kisses. It's like angels kissed your hands all over." His eyes rose to meet hers. They were filled with kindness and compassion. Something she had felt little of the past year.

Only Peter could turn the violent scars from a devastating accident into something beautiful. He was the sweetest person she'd ever met.

Without another word, he lifted first one hand and then the other and softly kissed each little mark on her tender, scarred hands.

Libby's mouth opened in wonder. His warm breath tickled her skin as his lips gently moved. Goose bumps danced up her arms. Never in her life had she felt this way, and she never wanted this moment to end.

Peter looked up, her hands cradled in his, as if it were a perfectly normal thing to do. His eyes, a deep pool of blue, melted into hers. Libby's breath slowed. Today her world was perfect. This beautiful boy held her captive. His expression confirmed he felt the same. They leaned their heads closer, just inches apart.

Libby saw something move out of the corner of her eye.

"Ouch! Crap."

They looked up just in time to see Peter's brother, Adam, slip down the side of the boulder, dropping his expensive-looking camera in the process .

"What the . . . ?" Peter exclaimed.

They jumped away from each other as if guilty. Adam crouched at the bottom of the large boulder, checking his camera for damage.

"Adam, what the hell are you doing?" Peter yelled, their moment shattered.

"Looking for you, nimrod. Dad's really pissed. You were supposed to be back an hour ago."

"Damn," Peter said under his breath.

Adam resumed his picture-taking, focusing on Libby and Peter.

"Stop it." Peter reached for the camera. "Don't make me break that thing."

"Hey, I've got some great stuff here. This new lens is amazing. I've heard the paparazzi use this type, too. I got it all, Peter, including your nose hairs. You should really trim them." Adam ducked out of Peter's reach before he could get smacked.

"Libby, please excuse my ‘little' brother. As you can see, he is an idiot."

"Hi," Libby said, mortified. Adam flashed her a huge grin.

"Adam here is going to hightail it back to the bus and tell them I'm on my way. That way, I won't have to break his fingers. Right?" Peter stood and glared at his brother.

"Dad would be pretty ticked if you did that. Plus, who'd play lead for you, so you don't go off-key all the time? "

"Libby, can you find me a rock? I need to throw it at Adam."

"Jeez, you really know how to spoil a party," Adam complained.

Peter faked a throw.

"I'm going, I'm going." Adam turned and hurried down the trail, jumping from one large rock to another, occasionally looking back toward them and snapping another picture.

Peter turned to her. "I'm so sorry. My family is the worst. They drive me nuts."

"It's okay. I don't mind." Libby smiled. She would give anything to have a family again. Especially one like his.

"We better get going. My dad hates to be kept waiting."

They rushed back, covering the ground in a fraction of the time it took to get there. Peter took her hand often to help her over large boulders that blocked the path.

When they arrived at the break in the woods, the engine of the grand tour bus rumbled impatiently.

"This was great," Libby said to Peter. She hated to see it end.

"Hey, we head back down to Chicago on Saturday. I can't promise anything, but I bet I can talk my mom into a stop here. Any chance you could meet me? Can I call you?"

First excitement, then panic hit. Visions of Aunt Marge answering the phone filled her mind. "No, you can't call. I'm sorry." She softened. "But I can be here. I'll wait for you."

"No phone, either, huh?" He winked. "It'll probably be around lunchtime. I'm sorry I can't give you an exact time." He spoke fast, looking to the bus every few seconds. "I'll meet you at that flat rock outcropping where I found you today."

"I'll be there." She would wait all day if need be.

Anything for another chance to see Peter. "I've gotta run. Bye."

"Bye." She watched as Peter jogged easily across the field toward the bus, a smile permanently etched on her face.