Autumn's Dance (Season Named Series Book 1) Page 3

  “We heard you were dealing drugs,” Aiden chimed in.

  “I was,” Eric stated, unfazed by their scrutiny and forthcoming ways. “Not anymore, though.”

  “Aren’t you on, like, house arrest?” Meg probed.

  “Where’s your ankle bracelet?” Aiden finished, straight to the point.

  “No, I’m not on house arrest and I don’t have one,” Eric replied, nonchalantly. “I’ve merely been banished to the far North in order to do penance,” he chuckled, lightening the mood.

  “Ah,” the twins said in unison. Meg swung her leg over the side of her bike, dismounting.

  “So what are we doing this afternoon, well, evening?” she asked.

  Autumn’s heart fell just a little, since she was hoping to have some alone time with Eric. However, she was so overjoyed to see the twins the feeling faded quickly.

  “Let’s go see what Ava’s cooking,” Autumn suggested.

  Miss Ava Harris was the proprietor of the local Bed and Breakfast, The Sleep Inn. In her early forties, with chocolate-colored hair to die for, Ava was loved by all in Ligonier. Her Bed and Breakfast was open to anyone for breakfast at any time, day or night. Her sister, Sharon, lived with her as well. Sharon was in her late -thirties with blond hair, much like Autumn’s, but with the mind of a ten-year old; she sustained a traumatic brain injury during a car accident in which Sharon was apparently driving. That was as far as Ava would ever tell Autumn, the thought obviously still too painful. Autumn never pried; it was none of her business.

  When it came to Ava and Sharon, Autumn classified them as family. There was just something about them that truly felt homey. When Autumn dreamt of having a real place to put down some roots, a roof to lay her head under or a bed to fall softly to sleep in at night, Ava and Sharon popped into her mind. She missed them just as much, if not a little more, than the twins. She would never tell Meg that though; the truth would break her heart.

  The group entered The Sleep Inn, which always smelled of pancakes as you crossed the threshold. Several regulars were in the restaurant part of the establishment, as well as a few families of tourists. Sharon was sitting in a corner lightly petting a ragdoll’s hair. Sharon, like Ava, had beautiful thick hair and big doe-like blue eyes, but that’s where the similarities ended. Sharon was humming lightly to her dolly when she saw the twins and waved with joy.

  “Hi Aiden, hi Meg,” she said softly.

  “Hi Sharon,” the twins chirruped.

  Ava came bustling out of the kitchen, sweat beading on her forehead and a strand of hair sticking to her cheek. “Hey guys! Autumn! You’re back!” She opened her arms, rushing towards her as Autumn raced into them. Ava hugged her hard and whispered into her ear so no one else could hear. “I have missed your beautiful face sweet girl. Goodness, I hate that you’re away from Sharon and I for so long. I have also been stockpiling some food for you.”

  Autumn nodded, smiling at Ava gratefully. Ava had been leaving Autumn food for years and sometimes money, to replace what her father spent on alcohol. From as far back as Autumn could remember, Ava had been there for her. After every summer when she and her father were getting ready to leave again, it was Ava who made sure Autumn had new clothes and undergarments that would get her through another year. Autumn remembered some years back when Ava begged Autumn’s father to give her an address so she could send more parcels of necessities for Autumn. That argument ended with her father screaming and refusing to take pathetic handouts. They left three days ahead of schedule that year.

  “Sharon, look who’s back,” Ava said.

  Sharon turned, squinting. Her face broke out into a wide smile as she shouted, “Autumn!” She got up, cheering like a small child, and Autumn walked over to give Sharon a hug. She adored Sharon just as if she was her sister.

  “You my girl Autumn, you miss me?”

  “You know it Sharon!” Autumn gave her another quick hug.

  When Sharon got her hands on Autumn it was playtime. At least once a week while Autumn was in town, she allowed Sharon to braid her hair, paint her nails, and play dolls. It made Sharon happy and besides, Autumn loved it too.

  “This is Eric,” Autumn said to Ava and Sharon.

  “Oh, we know all about this handsome fellow,” Ava stated, giving him a wink. “He is quite the artist, or so I’ve heard. I might have to commission a sculpture before they ship you back to Memphis.” Eric smiled sheepishly. “Do you kids want some food?”

  “Pancakes!” the twins yelled.

  “You got it,” Ava replied, sashaying back into the kitchen.

  The teens all sat around a table by the window making plans for the summer. “Would ya looka that!” Aiden yelled across the room, raising his eyebrows at a girl walking by. She was about their age—maybe a little older—dressed in hot pink shorts and a halter-top with perfectly applied cat-eye liner and walking a tiny, fluffy dog.

  “Uh, really, Aide?” Meg wrinkled her nose. “Monica Dwyer?”

  “Since I ain’t blind, I’m lookin',” Aiden retorted. “And she is fine.”

  Meg rolled her eyes. “He’s been ogling Monica Dwyer since she finally got boobs this past year,” Meg tried to whisper, but it was loud enough for the whole restaurant to hear. “So where did you end up this year?” Meg changed the subject in two seconds flat. She did that a lot; it was like whiplash to Autumn’s mind.

  “We spent some time in California and then Nevada before spending the spring in Virginia.”

  “You move around that much?” Eric asked, shocked.

  Autumn flushed bright red. “Yeah,” she drawled. “We go where the picking jobs are.”

  “A modern nomad,” he remarked.

  She was surprised at how impressed he was by her lifestyle. Given the choice, Autumn would love to put down roots somewhere—anywhere—and just live in a house and go to school. Eric had no idea what a truly lonely existence she lived.

  “You should see if your dad will leave you with us for the year,” Meg suggested. “You could share my room and we could be like sisters,” Meg squealed, as if there really was a possibility of that happening.

  “I doubt he would agree to that,” Autumn lamented, leaving out the fact that her father wanted her around so he could have her portion of the picking money to drink more and gamble the remaining few cents away.

  She daydreamed about Meg’s room with the deep, plush carpet, her white, real goose-down comforter, the shelves of books, and the lovely mint green walls. She sighed with envy.

  Just then, Ava brought a tray carrying four plates stacked high with pancakes and placed it on the table. They all clapped and Ava bowed graciously. Autumn was extremely excited; her stomach begged for the first taste of real food in three days.

  Autumn

  When Autumn returned to the clearing later with a bag of groceries from Ava, her father was waiting for her. Sitting by the fire, Liam looked grim. Even in the dark of night, Autumn could make out his reddened, blood-shot eyes and the defeat in his posture as he sat, shoulders hunched in an old camp chair watching the flickering of the flames. He already started drinking a few hours back, no doubt, and was in no rush to end his stupor, as he picked up the bottle of gin beside him, a cigarette burning down to the end in his other hand.

  “Where’ve you been?” he slurred.

  “Hanging out with the twins,” she reported, trying to sound casual as she strode towards him. “Ava gave me some food since we weren’t able to go grocery shopping.” She threw the comment out there, hoping he’d let it go and just accept the offering, but she was wrong.

  Her father cleared his throat and pointed a thick, beefy finger, with the cigarette butt jutting out, at her. Liam was one scary daddy; not tall by any means, but large with thick arms, a barrel chest, his once midnight black hair peppered gray and limply hanging over his weather-worn face covered with a full beard making him look older than his forty years.

  “You are NOT to accept handouts!” he snarled. “We ain’t that poo
r.”

  “Then where is our money?” Autumn hammered back, her heart fluttering in her chest because she did not know why she said that.

  “What did you say to me?”

  “I said…I said, if we aren’t poor, then where is our money?” she dared to whisper.

  It was too late anyway; Autumn knew the moment she asked the question a beating was only a matter of seconds away. Her father burst to his feet, knocking the bottle of gin over and cursing while charging over to Autumn.

  He grabbed the front of her dress and dropped his face down towards hers, close enough for her to smell the stale cigarettes and stench of gin on his breath. “You would be nothing without me,” he spat in her face. “You would be living in the garbage.”

  “I would be with my mother,” Autumn muttered.

  “That woman got exactly what was coming to her,” he growled. “And you better watch…” he stopped what he was saying as anger flooded his very being.

  Liam Nash’s free bear-like fist slammed into Autumn’s stomach. It was hard, but as Autumn well knew, done so precisely as to not leave a trace.

  Autumn clutched her mid-section in pain as tears shot into her eyes. Letting her go with a shove to the ground, Autumn hit the dirt hard, letting out a high-pitched squeal. Her father walked around to stand behind her and Autumn, on instinct, tried to relax her muscles as she knew what was coming. Then she felt it—his boot connecting with her lower back. Autumn stifled her scream as best as she could knowing if she didn’t he would keep going until she shut up.

  After a few seconds, Liam paid no mind to his daughter’s pain, as he was more concerned with inspecting the overturned gin bottle he momentarily forgot about.

  “Look at what you made me do,” he growled. “Come here,” he motioned to a stump near the camp chair he sunk back into. Grabbing a few more sticks, he stoked up the fire. With a long a swig from the bottle, trying to suck every last drop he could get out of it before it returned to its empty state on the ground, he set a log on top of the growing flame.

  Autumn pulled herself up off the ground and limped over, sitting on the stump near her father, not wanting to anger him anymore.

  Liam gestured toward the bag Autumn brought back to the campsite. “What did Ava send?”

  “Hot dogs,” Autumn’s monotone voice choked out. To speak with alacrity would make him happy; to speak with anger would bring the rage back.

  “Take them out. I have some sticks here,” he commanded. “Good ol’ Ava.”

  The problem with angry people was once the anger was gone, they just wanted to believe they were forgiven. In order to survive, Autumn was forced to go along with it, afraid of what he would do if she didn’t. She understood why her mother left; she just didn’t understand why she didn’t take Autumn with her. After what her father said, she wondered if her mother was still around anymore. What was it her father believed her mother deserved?

  Autumn had been in this place before—questioning her mother’s absence. On occasion, she pushed through the fear and the lump in her throat to ask her father why her mother left. But with Liam, it was always the same old answer: “She didn’t love us anymore.” Occasionally, he would be more vexing by lashing out with, “Because she couldn’t stand the sight of you,” which hurt the most.

  A part of Autumn refused to believe it though. What mother could possibly hate her child enough to leave? If it was anything, it was most likely Liam’s drinking or his temper. Autumn wasn’t stupid; she knew beating on your child was not okay. But she also knew no one else would want her. Liam was all she knew and all she had. He was a terrible father; Autumn couldn’t even remember one time he had ever given her a compliment or said something even remotely kind to her. If it hadn’t been for her friends in Ligonier or the people she and her father met on the road or while picking who taught her what manners and civility looked like, Autumn would have thought her father’s behavior was commonplace.

  Autumn set her thoughts aside and focused on the task at hand; pushing the hotdogs onto the sticks, she held them over the fire to roast.

  Her stomach was in so much pain, she felt she would be sick and her back, well, it did not matter since she would have to get up for work tomorrow regardless of how she felt. Her day-to-day life was based upon survival. She struggled to plan a future, as it took all she had just to think of what tomorrow would bring. She was scared if things didn’t change for the better real soon, her life would be over—either by his hands or hers.

  The concept scared her more than his beatings. She was certain if this lifestyle didn’t stop soon, her mind, her will to fight in order to survive, would just be too much for her; Autumn was alive, but she wasn’t living.

  After the hotdogs were ready, she offered the sticks to her father who scoffed them down in four bites. Then, without so much as a goodnight, Liam rose to his feet and retired to the tent.

  Autumn sat by the fire for what felt like hours, silent tears trickling from her eyes and cascading down her cheeks, each one feeling as a representation of each punch, each slap, each kick.

  As her eyes began to dry, she came to a decision; the moment she turned eighteen, she would leave. It was time Liam looked after himself, once and for all.

  Six months to go—Autumn could almost taste the freedom.

  Autumn - July 2010

  Autumn sat on the fence by Pastor Graham’s house, watching the Holsteins. They were silently joyful, content on merely munching on grass and swishing the flies away with their tails. If only life were that simple, Autumn thought.

  She saw Eric as often as she could around her grueling picking schedule. The mere weeks since being back in Ligonier had been her best, more than she ever hoped for. Eric showed her things she only ever dreamed of—trips to the old train station to walk around watching the people go to and fro; walking down by the river where he would make her miniature sculptures out of mud, all so beautiful she wished she could keep every one of them; and trips to the waterpark with Meg and Aiden. Most times, Eric and Autumn walked—strolling around town, through fields, paddocks, and trees. Sometimes they said nothing at all, as if words weren’t needed, just being together was enough.

  Seeing him made her heart race, like now, as he stepped out onto the front porch of his grandfather’s house waving and smiling at her. Autumn froze for a mere second trying to catch her breath. Never, in her seventeen years of life, had she ever felt physical stirrings in her body the way she had lately. All those books she read over the years describing butterflies in the stomach, shortness of breath, a fog clouding the mind—all were spot on. From the very second Autumn’s eyes opened in the morning until they once again closed in the evening, it was Eric she thought about. Autumn had it bad and she both loved and loathed the feeling.

  She pushed off the fence, running across the field. Eric held his arms open, as she rushed towards him; the moment she jumped he caught her in his arms, swinging her around in circles. Autumn spread her arms wide, loving the feel of the wind rushing past her body. Her total trust was in the one person whose arms kept her steady and allowed, for even just a moment, the feeling of freedom, of soaring through the air, leaving her troubles behind and floating away with the breeze.

  Eric wound down his spin, but did not let her go, catching his breath between the laughter they could no longer contain. The seconds ticked by and the atmosphere shifted. Looking into each other’s eyes, the noise evaporated as a solemn, intense moment sparked between them. He reached forward, brushing her cheek with his thumb. Autumn shivered in a delightful way. For a split second, nothing else existed, just the two of them drawn into the other’s eyes, into each other’s very soul.

  Things were changing between them; every second they were together their friendship morphed into something else. The only way to stop it was to walk away and never see him again. The mere thought of never seeing Eric again pained Autumn.

  Their moment was over too quickly as Pastor Graham opened the front door, breakin
g the spell, and Autumn reluctantly pulled away sighing, jumping from Eric’s arms back down to earth. Both adolescents were disappointed and relieved all at once.

  “Autumn!” he said. “It’s so good to see you. What are you kids up to today?”

  “Heading to the pool with the twins,” Autumn replied comfortably, scooting away from Eric and wrapping her arms around Graham for a quick hug.

  The friends all agreed to meet up at the twins’ house so Autumn could borrow a suit from Meg.

  “Can I give you a ride into town? I was heading into the church as we speak,” Pastor Graham asked.

  “Sure,” Eric agreed, shrugging his shoulders as he began walking to the garage. Autumn looked at him and saw…disappointment.

  They all piled into the silver Camry, Autumn laughing as she watched Eric fold his large body into the front passenger seat, looking uncomfortable; the car most definitely was not designed to fit large frames like his.

  Pastor Graham put the car into gear and began their short trek. The modern instrument panels and the smooth lines of the sleek gray automobile fascinated Autumn; her father’s truck was soiled, malodorous, and raucous.

  “The engine is so quiet,” Autumn remarked.

  “Yeah. Even for a used car, it’s in pretty good condition,” Pastor Graham replied patting the steering wheel.

  “It seems new to me,” Autumn stated.

  “So, Autumn,” Pastor Graham began, “I hear you and your father are camping out in the woods for the summer.”

  Autumn’s stomach bottomed out. “Yes,” she replied in a small voice.

  “That is quite adventurous,” the pastor remarked. “You know, we have guest rooms to accommodate the two of you if the weather gets bad or you just want a solid roof over your heads.”

  “Thank you, but we are fine,” Autumn responded. She felt her face flush, not wanting to explain to Pastor Graham or Eric that her father would erupt if she accepted the kind offer. She already tried that once this summer; she agreed to stay at Meg’s for one night and the next morning before work her back received a new bruise courtesy of her father’s temperament.