A relationship. Her skin flushed with the thought. Who would have imagined that keep-to-herself, bookish, driven Amber Carrington would be in a relationship with someone as wonderful and well-known as Seth Marshall? If the residual heat of his palm didn’t still warm her hand, she’d pinch herself to make sure all of it was real.
He’d acted a little strange after their walk, but she’d felt off kilter as well. Everything was new. Exciting. Scary.
She pulled open the front door of the center and peeked inside. Coast clear. Silly, yes, but that didn’t stop her from tiptoeing inside and pouring a mug of coffee as stealthily as she could. A few packets of sugar and cream, a quick stir, and she closed her eyes and took a sip.
Soft sniffles echoed off the cement-block walls, and her ears pricked. Crying? Did someone need help? She followed the muffled whimpers past an empty corridor of cubicles—must be a meeting going on—and paused at the entrance of the rec room.
She blinked a few times to make sure what she was seeing was real. Kayla—tough, doesn’t-need-anyone, stay-away-from-me Kayla—sat on the hard floor, a child in her lap, her arms wound tightly around the young girl. Amber’s heart pinched and then melted a little.
Though she hadn’t been able to spend too much time with Seth’s sister yet, the erected walls and stand-off vibes she projected were so visible she might as well have given everyone 3D glasses. But no one was that hard through and through. Kayla may project a tough exterior, but inside she was all mush. Like a Cadbury Crème Egg.
She looked exactly like her brother, sitting there. The image reminded Amber of Seth and how he’d comforted the kids after the noise from the airplanes had scared them all so badly.
Kayla ran a hand over the girl’s head. With the veil of hair brushed away, Amber recognized Sonia, the preteen from Syria. Amber hadn’t seen her on the field since the fright from the planes. She’d wanted to visit her at home and make sure she was doing all right. Had she been hiding out inside the rec room instead of playing soccer with her and Seth all this time?
Kayla whispered soft words in Sonia’s ear, her paint-splattered fingers methodically stroking the girl’s hair. Amber’s gaze snagged on an easel with a canvas resting across its base off to their side. She remembered Seth saying his sister had always been an artist. The angle of the canvas made it difficult to see the picture painted on its surface, but instinct told her that, whatever the creation, it was the culprit for the emotions erupting from the child.
A rip current of indecision swirled in her middle. Should she stay? Offer help? Her body swayed forward, but her feet remained planted where they were. It felt wrong, gazing in on such a private moment, but she couldn’t make her body move one way or the other.
Kayla pushed Sonia away from her chest and, with a finger under her chin, raised her face and looked into her eyes. Kayla’s features were earnest, her gaze like a tool drilling in a point, then she smiled and stood. She picked up a paintbrush and handed it to Sonia, then pointed to the easel and took a step back.
Art therapy. Amber had heard of the technique and how effective it was with children. Sometimes experiences and feelings were too hard to put into words, and a child’s natural communication through play and art helped express and articulate what their words couldn’t.
Why hadn’t she thought of that before?
After a few strokes, Sonia stepped back. Tears dried in salty streaks down her cheeks, but her eyes radiated a new inner peace. Kayla had offered her a key, and she’d used it to unlock a door that had been bolted inside her. She looked freer. A step taken toward healing.
With a quick hug to Kayla, Sonia bolted through the door that led to the field. Amber should follow. The break would be over soon, and Seth would need her help.
“You can slink out of the shadows. I know you’re there.” Kayla dumped the used paint brushes in a glass of liquid.
Amber’s sneakers scuffed over the gym-type floor as she crossed to the art center. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I heard crying and wanted to make sure no one was hurt, then I saw you and Sonia. Anyway, thank you for helping her. You’ve made a real difference in her life.”
Kayla snorted and continued cleaning up the art supplies.
Amber shifted her weight between her feet. Her sincere words might as well have bounced off Kayla’s invisible walls. Why did people do that? Why build walls to keep others out when what they really needed was to let people in? Was there a way to get Kayla to let her in?
Kayla glanced up. “Still here? Don’t you have anywhere better to be?”
Amber wouldn’t let the verbal slap sting. People lashed out. It wasn’t personal. “I thought—”
“What? That we could be friends? Sit around a campfire and singKumbaya?” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t think so.”
Not. Personal. “That’s not what I—”
Kayla huffed. “Look, the way to my brother is not through me. Nor do we have to plait each other’s hair, even if he asked you to be nice, make friends, and try to straighten out his crooked little sister.”
“He never—”
She laughed, though the sound was ugly. “As if you and I could ever be friends. What do we have in common? Nothing. You, with your perfect little family—parents still married, doting brothers—your suburban, picket-fence life. What do you know of hardship? Of living on the streets? Being afraid in your own neighborhood? Hunger gnawing on your backbone? Oflife.” Her hand slashed through the air. “Absolutely nothing. You could never understand where I’ve come from or what I’ve been through, and you can’t for a second relate to those kids out there. So take your messiah complex and go somewhere you’re actually wanted before reality starts knocking on your door. No one needs you here. Not me. Not my brother.” She flipped her braid over her shoulder and marched out of the room.
Amber felt as though she were freefalling. Like she’d been pushed off a cliff and was watching the ground race to meet her. She braced for impact, all her muscles contracting. Finally, she sucked in a breath through her teeth and blinked away the image, forcing her limbs to relax. But her lungs had a mind of their own, taking in and puffing out oxygen with the speed of a freight train.
Kayla thought the only reason Amber had talked to her or wanted to befriend her was to get to Seth? Why? What had she said or done that would give that impression?
And the other things Kayla had said…
The sum of her fears, the doubts she’d tried so hard to outrun, spoken with such clarity and volume that they still rang in her ears. Kayla had deftly painted the image of all Amber’s inadequacies.
