Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Two weeks later.

They waited for the Greyhound bus to arrive at the local gas station in Catalina. It was a lazy Saturday afternoon and the town was full of shoppers traversing the sidewalks with smiles on their faces. Families with their shopping bags stepped in and out of what local shops were still afloat, a few people heading into Collins Diner for an early lunch (Today's Special: Grilled Ham Steak and Butter Beans!). Maybe it was the sun shining down benevolently on the town, but Catalina, for the day, looked healthy and vibrant -- a Catalina of fifty years past.

Both dressed in shorts, sandals, and old T-shirts fitting for the weather, Christina and Jamie stood side by side, leaning against one of the old-fashioned gas pumps. Since Paul's arrest, Christina had been staying with Mrs. Fisk, the Catalina Middle School art teacher, of all people. Jamie stopped by Mrs. Fisk's house everyday after school to report news from the town and deliver books from the library for Christina to read. She hadn't been going to school, unable to face the scrutiny and whispers of her peers.

The Greyhound bus they were waiting for would take Christina to Montana to stay with a great aunt. She hadn't said much in the last two weeks, but Jamie understood. Everything she knew had been yanked out from under her and now she had to begin her life over again. She felt lost suddenly, her perfect, ordered world, which had previously been filled with so much direction and purpose, was overhauled by her father's actions. She was presented with a new, radically different set of circumstances with which to cope, and for the first time in her life she was left doubting her abilities to accept and adapt. Though Jamie's troubles had been put to rest, he knew Christina's had only just begun. 

She clutched her bulging backpack nervously, holding a battered copy of A Tale Of Two Cities to her chest. She squinted down the road, seeing the long, serpentine, silver bus approach, huffing tiredly, its breaks squealing along the street. Though she and Jamie had promised to write to each other, they knew they wouldn't be able to keep it up. They were wise that way. Sure, there would be a few crumpled letters in the first few months apart, but both of them recognized their time together had ended. But they weren't bitter… only a little sad. 

Awkwardly, they hugged, all elbows. Jamie thought back… had he ever hugged her before? No, he hadn't… He decided then to do something else he'd never done before either: he kissed her. Her lips were soft and tasted of the strawberry lip gloss she had started to wear and he lightly jostled her glasses, which had slipped down the bridge of her nose. She smiled at him when they broke, Jamie seeing a gleam of happiness in her luminous brown eyes. 

The bus rolled up to the station slowly, and she climbed in, slouching heavily from the weight of her backpack. He watched her watch him through the passing row of windows. She took a seat in the back and placed a hand on the windowpane beside her. He rose a hand of his own in goodbye.

See you, he mouthed.

Bye, she mouthed back. 

And the bus rumbled back to life again, and carried her away. He watched it sink into the distance, taking Christina out of Catalina, Kansas; it was where she had always wanted to go. A pang of loss hit him hard in the chest, and he realized he was alone. Jamie Hendrick had lost his only friend. It was a heavy cost for solving the mystery of his brother's murder, but in the end, he knew it was a cost that needed to be paid. It was a cost that had always been coming, and though he was saddened by Christina's departure, he was not surprised. 

Mrs. Fisk, who had driven Christina to the station, walked up to him, hitching her handbag up on her shoulder. She studied his face curiously, as if seeing him for the first time. Later, looking back on the day, she recognized what she'd seen: a boy transform into a man, right before her eyes.

"Do you want a ride back home, Jamie?" she asked him kindly.

He shook his head. He had his bike with him. A wistful smile on his face, he waved goodbye to Mrs. Fisk and climbed on top of his Schwinn, confidently setting his feet upon the pedals. He rode down Main Street feeling the wind rush through his hair, savoring the freedom. Following his old paper route, he took a turn down Elm, people in the street happily sending him their helloes. The air was sweet and smelt of harvested wheat. Summer was here -- finally -- the glorious sun washing away the darkness of the past. 

The End