Chapter 9

9

A fter two weeks of late-night whispering and daily texting, Peter finally met up with Libby at Parfrey's Glen for a full day together.

"I'd sure love to see you perform," Libby said as they meandered through the woods, hand in hand.

"You want to come to a concert?" Peter acted surprised. "Of course I do! But that's not going to happen. Not unless you're playing Rockville High School's homecoming dance."

"Hmm, that's a good idea. I've always wanted to go to homecoming; plus, I could call you out in front of everyone and declare my love." He pulled her close.

Peter said he loved her! Sort of. Her face turned a predictable shade of pink. She was speechless.

"What? I've discovered how to keep you quiet for a change?" Peter grinned, enjoying her embarrassment .

Libby smacked him lightly on the arm, then rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm not saying a thing." But inside she glowed.

"So the girl wants a performance. Hmm. I can't afford to have an unhappy fan. I believe this calls for an impromptu show."

He led her to a clearing surrounded by tall pines. "Miss, here is your front-row VIP seat. The concert will begin in just a moment."

Peter walked a good twenty feet away and hid behind a clump of brush. "No peeking. This is backstage and strictly off-limits to general ticket holders."

Libby turned her head away and held back a smile.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he roared in a mock announcer's voice. "I mean, girl in the front row sitting on the ground."

Libby threw a pinecone at him.

"Hey, I haven't started yet! You can't boo until I do something."

She leaned back on her hands. She couldn't wait to see what he did next.

"Girl in the front row, I present to you . . . the Jamieson brothers! I mean, Peter Jamieson!"

He sauntered out from behind the brush making faux roaring noises. "The crowd goes wild for Jamieson. Rrrrrr." He walked to center stage, in front of a bush, and picked up a stick for a microphone .

"Jamieson has entered the building." He raised his hands toward the sky and let loose another crowd roar.

"The two-million-megawatt lighting system kicks up. Spotlights search the arena for the star. Lasers ripple through the air. Fog rises around the stage. The intro music builds." Peter motioned dramatically to the trees and bushes around them as if this were the real deal.

"The cheers in the arena are deafening!" He waved his hands in the air again, making another rrr sound.

Libby laughed. Peter stepped forward onto his imaginary stage.

"The star! The legend! Feast your eyes on the world's most talented singer, PETER JAMIESON!" He roared into the open expanse of nature.

"Girls are fainting at the mere mention of his name," he whispered to the side.

Libby laughed and rolled her eyes as Peter paced his mock stage, setting the scene.

"First starts the tinkling of piano keys; the lights pick up the beat." His fingers played the imaginary piano and then motioned at pretend lights.

"Bass guitarist, Garrett, sadly, a sub-par performer, enters the mix."

She giggled.

"Next, lead guitarist, adolescent voyeur, Adam, adds his soulful sound. And then . . ." Peter held the fake microphone like a pro and started to sing .

Peter's pure voice rang through the woods. Libby watched, so overwhelmed by his talent that the words didn't register. All she could do was watch his moves, his stance, and listen to his amazing voice. Libby sat dumbstruck in the pine needles and leaves.

"Here's where the drums take the beat, ch ch cha, ch ch cha, ch ch cha." He played the imaginary drum. "The guitars come in, tinka ting, tinka ting, and Peter Jamieson fades to the back, giving his mediocre brothers a chance to shine." He rewarded her with a wink.

"And then, the melody takes back the night." He stood atop an old, fallen log and sang, his entire body creating the percussion that went unheard. It captivated Libby and transported her to the concert hall.

"Then, to seal the deal, the Boy Wonder awes the audience with his world-class flying eagle." Peter jumped high into the air above her, reached out, and touched his toes.

Libby's eyes followed him like an awestruck fan.

He landed and picked up the song again, gesturing the percussion and guitar licks as he went.

Peter's talent far exceeded her wildest imagination. He was an incredibly gifted performer, and she'd never understood it until now. Sure, he was well-known, but it never affected her. Time and distance was their barrier, nothing else.

His cute, cocky performance revealed only a small hint of the talent flowing just beneath the surface. His voice held power and confidence and moved her to tears.

"Hey, I'm ready for the big finish." Peter posed, feet set wide apart, his fake mic replaced with a long walking stick. He gripped the mock mic stand firmly and leaned to the side, while his body kept the beat.

He looked up from his rocker pose. "What's wrong?"

Libby covered her mouth with her hand.

Peter rushed over and squatted before her. "What's the matter? Was I that bad?"

"That's not funny." She pushed out at him, as tears welled in her eyes.

"I'm sorry. Garrett can't help playing so bad."

His joke hit the mark, and she laughed, then took a deep breath. "I didn't realize"—she shook her head—"that you're so good." She couldn't help but feel devastated. Her life was so tiny and unimportant and his was over-the-top huge. Peter didn't belong with her. He should be with a famous model or actress.

He knelt before her and took her hands in his. "What are you talking about?" He looked deep into her eyes. "I'm still me. Nothing's changed. This is just another part of my life." He gripped her hands firmly. "Heck, I wasn't that great. The band isn't very good today." A grin curled his lips, and his eyes sparkled.

She laughed and he delivered another megawatt smile. Libby gazed at him, mulling her decision to open up or not. The trust in his eyes made her decision.

"You don't belong with me." It hurt to say it, but she had to tell him the truth.

"What are you talking about?" He sat down, one leg on each side of her, creating a warm cocoon.

"There's a lot you don't know about me."

He nodded in acceptance. "Yeah? There's a lot you don't know about me, too. That's why it's called dating. So we can spend every possible moment together on the phone or pining for each other."

"Stop joking." She sobered, ready to open up for the first time.

"Talk to me, Lib."

"Peter, I'm not the person you think I am." The weight of her confession grew heavier, and she took a deep breath. "I think I better say this all at once, and I'll tell you when I'm done. Is that okay?"

"Lay it on me," he said with sincerity.

Libby nodded. "I don't live with my mom." She watched him for a reaction and only saw mild confusion. "I live with my aunt. And I'm not from Wisconsin. I'm from Michigan."

She took another deep, bracing breath.

"I have a dad, but I haven't seen him in over a year. He's kind of a mess right now because he lost his job and then our house." She checked Peter again for his reaction; he seemed more confused .

"But he only lost the house because of the accident. Actually, it was way after the accident, after we lost my mom and sister. Did I tell you I had a sister?" She paused and looked into his eyes. He shook his head, his eyes wide and his body still.

"Well, she died with my mom in the accident. I guess I never really told you about that." Libby spoke faster to get the toxic words out. She tugged on her pendant, as Peter listened.

"Well, there was this car accident. My dad was driving, and this semi pulled out, and the driver was tired and, anyway, he forced us off the road and our car flipped over and hit the pillars of an overpass."

She peeked up at his shocked expression.

"There was glass everywhere, and the car was all twisted. It took a while for my dad to help me out of the back where I was stuck. Then he and the truck driver worked on getting my little sister, Sarah, out while I tried to reach my mom."

Libby felt transported back in time to that terrifying summer night on the side of a highway. The night her life changed forever.

"The car was rolled onto the passenger side and was crunched in really bad. My dad was too big to crawl around the twisted metal, so I did."

She remembered the thick metal crumpled like tin foil. It cut and scratched her hands, arms and legs as she fought to get through. She recalled the desperate need to reach her mom, who lay limp, still fastened in her seat, the remnants of the deployed airbag draped around her.

"Chunks of broken glass were everywhere, and I kept trying to pull it away." The taste of panic returned as she recalled the glass spread over her mother like a sheet of deadly crystals. Libby opened her scarred hands to Peter in testament. "But it didn't work."

Peter held her hands in his. It felt good.

"Anyway, it was horrible and I don't live in Michigan anymore, 'cause Dad couldn't take the pain after Mom and Sarah died. He was so depressed, he needed to leave."

Libby couldn't slow herself down.

"That's when he left me at Aunt Marge's, but she's really screwed up and smokes and drinks all day. And I don't know why, but my dad is gone, and I don't know how to find him. So now I'm just trying to finish high school early so I can figure out what to do. But you need to know this because you have an amazing life and you have a real family with a mom and a dad and brothers."

Peter sat silent, his eyes warm and caring. He took it all in as she babbled.

"So I just thought you should know I'm not like you, and that's okay, and you can go do your thing, and I'm all right with it." She nodded with finality. "I'm all right."

She'd said it all, and now she didn't know what to do. She glanced all around, but avoided beautiful, talented Peter as long as possible. Finally, she let her eyes meet his.

Pity. She pulled back and crawled away from him. She hated it when others felt pity for her.

"Libby, wait."

She crawled faster. Peter grabbed her leg and rolled her over in the fall leaves. He lay next to her on the ground.

"Libby, stop. It's okay." His eyes were a deep river of concern.

"Don't you dare feel sorry for me. I don't need that. I'm fine." Her jaw set in defiance, but her watering eyes betrayed her.

"Look at me." He held her by the shoulders.

She looked up at him, her rock, her only friend, her whole world.

"It's okay. I don't care about that." He shook his head. "No, I do care about that, but it doesn't change anything. You are who you are, and I am who I am. Nothing's changed." He locked eyes with hers and looked deep into her soul. "Your life sucks right now, and mine, well, it doesn't, except that I can't be with you all the time."

He wouldn't let go of her, and she felt so safe. He accepted her past.

"I wish you would have told me before. Why have you held this in?"

"I didn't think you'd want to be with me if you knew how screwed up my life is." Her voice began to quiver .

"Of course I want to know." He pulled her to him and wrapped his famous, talented arms around her.

"It's okay, Lib, I love you, I'm here for you, and I'm not going anywhere."

His words made her feel she might survive after all. She relaxed against him. A rare breath of mourning and pain escaped, and then a single tear. Peter held her tightly, his body enveloping her in a warm embrace of love and understanding.

For the first time in many months, she cried.

*. *. *

Peter held Libby, crying in his arms. He didn't move, afraid he might frighten her back to her stoic fa?ade. He'd never understood before this moment what loss meant. Here, in his arms, was a girl who'd lost everything. She put on such a strong act, pretending her life was normal, when it was anything but.

But today, she opened up. After all these weeks of pretending, she lowered her guard and let him into her world. He imagined she rarely shared her story, and it explained a lot. No wonder she thought his family so perfect. How could he ever complain about them again when Libby longed for the family she lost?

Peter kissed her salty tears away. Her breath warmed his chest as he held her close. He'd known for a while he was in love with her. She never treated him like a famous rocker. It was always real with her. Libby's confession amped up his determination to protect her and keep her safe. He didn't care about the press or the tabloids or their age.

He'd been living the life of an adult for years, and apparently, she had too. Things were about to change.