Remember the Knight Page 2

It hasn’t been the easiest four years though. He stayed in Arizona and I went to Minnesota, and the long-distance thing gets hard. But we’ve managed to stay connected and to share as much time as possible during school breaks. Spending our actual dating anniversary together is a rare thing, so I’m excited to get time with him this weekend. However, Stella, thrilled to have me home, isn’t so keen on sharing me with Hunter.

  “Hunter’s taking me out tonight for a fancy dinner,” I tell her. “But I promise tomorrow that I’m all yours, okay?”

  “Okay, I guess.” She rests her hands on her elbows and stares glumly into her bowl of cereal. She’s at that age where she bounces from nearly-a-teenager to still-a-child in less than a second. One minute she’s begging to wear high heels, and the next, she’s cuddled up watching cartoons and drinking juice from a box.

  “Hey, Stella Bella, why don’t we watch a movie this afternoon before I have to get ready, okay?” I ruffle her hair and she shakes my hand off.

  “Okay,” she says, her voice still dripping with disappointment. “Fine.”

  “Oh, come on Stella, tomorrow is only one day away. It’s just you and me, I promise.” I look at Dad, who’s giving me a funny look. I shrug, but he continues to study me with an odd expression. Is it something with Mom? She was anxious this morning—she’s having her annual lunch with her parents, and that never ends well. She’s always grouchy afterwards. Stella and I have never met them, and it’s never been explained why. In fact, I didn’t know my dad’s parents until Stella came along. There was some strange fight he had with them before I was even born, but I’m glad they worked it out because I talk to them all the time. My grandma has made me three quilts since I’ve gone to UMD. She’s worried I’m going to freeze to death up there.

  “Grandma and Grandpa want to stop by tomorrow,” Dad says. He smooths his hands along the counter and looks down. There’s that odd expression again. What is up with him?

  “I thought tomorrow was our day,” Stella pouts.

  “Keep frowning like that and you’re gonna get wrinkles.” I squeeze her nose. Her eyes brighten, but she still doesn’t smile. I turn back to my dad. “Do you know what time?”

  “I think for dinner.” He picks up a dish and turns to the sink, averting my eyes. Something is definitely up. I’ve always been good at sensing stuff. Mom’s always telling me I’m nearly impossible to surprise.

  “I thought you and I were having dinner,” Stella’s pouting again. I love her, but she’s starting to exhaust me.

  “Stella—” my dad begins.

  I hold up my hand. “It’s okay, Dad. Stella and I can have lunch.” I promise. “Lunch, shopping, maybe even a movie depending on what time dinner is, okay?”

  “Aren’t you going to want to spend time with Hunter?” He still won’t look at me. “Don’t let Stella guilt you into spending every second with her.”

  “I won’t.” I sort of lie. Stella’s pretty good at guilting me into a lot. What can I say, I miss the kid like crazy. There’s something special—something protective that rises up in me every time I see her. “I’ll get to see him tonight. I’m all Stella’s tomorrow.” Stella grins, really grins, and swirls around on the stool.

  “Do you want to help me get ready for my date with Hunter tonight?” I wink at her.

  She smiles and leaps off her chair. She loves to help me with my clothes and makeup. She’s always begging my parents to let her wear makeup too, but Mom says not until her twelfth birthday in March.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” she cries. “But we’ve got to watch the movie first, okay? We don’t want you to ruin your makeup.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “We definitely don’t want that.”

  Stella races to our family room, plopping down on the couch with the remote. “I already have it picked out.” She flips through the screens until she finds it. I lean my head back on the couch cushions and watch a movie full of teens and kissing, whish Stella’s been really into lately. She’s growing up fast. Too fast. But when she cuddles up to me about halfway through the movie, I’m reminded she’s still my little Stella.

  Once the credits roll, Stella bounces up the stairs with me, opening the doors to my closet with a big flourish.

  “Okay,” she says, as she begins to sort through the hangers. “You need something that says, ‘I want you’, but in a classy way—”

  “Stella,” I admonish. That girl can be something. She ignores me, her hands flipping through the rack, while she whispers to herself.

  “How about this?” She finally emerges with a yellow sundress with tiny white flowers and a flared skirt I bought at a small boutique last year. It wasn’t my usual style, but the dress called to me, like it was meant to be mine.

  “Maybe.” I stare at the dress. It evokes a strange emotion in my gut, like I’m at war with myself. Part of me wants to wear the dress while part of me doesn’t feel right about wearing it tonight. There’s a tiny voice in my head saying It’s not for Hunter. The thought lingers as I focus on the dress, the tiny white flowers imprinting in my eyelids. I’ve never worn it. The tags still hang from the sleeve.

  “Just try it on,” Stella orders.

  “Okay.” I delicately pull it from the hanger and slip it over my head. I stand in front of the full-length mirror in my room, turning side-to-side as I stare at my reflection.

  “It’s perfect,” Stella declares, jumping up and down. “You have to wear that one. And these sandals will go perfect with it...” Her voice fades into a muffle as she digs into my closet again.

  I keep staring into the mirror. The dress is made for me—it is a perfect fit. And it would be fun to wear a sundress; Minnesota’s weather in February always involves thick puffy coats and fuzzy hats.

  “Okay,” I say, pushing the strange emotions from my mind. “I’ll wear it.”

  Stella claps her hands as she runs to grab scissors to cut the tags off. I can’t peel my eyes off the mirror. What is it about this dress?

  “Can I help you with your makeup?” Stella begs when she returns. She watches online videos constantly learning about the best way to apply foundation or eye shadow.

  “Nothing crazy, okay?”

  “Okay,” she says, but there’s a disappointed sigh mixed with her words. The girl loves makeup, but I’ve never been a huge makeup person. There’s something in me that always cringes when I apply foundation, like it physically hurts when I brush it across my skin. I try to avoid it as much as possible, but for important stuff—like dates with Hunter—I power through.

  Stella sorts through my brushes, sighing loudly. She’s always telling me I need a better selection. I shift to face her, letting her work her magic—well, that’s what she likes to say, anyway—as she paints my face and my eyelids, ordering me when to open and close my eyes and to pucker my lips for the lipstick.

  “Perfect, voila.” She steps back to admire her handiwork. I cringe inwardly, hoping I don’t look like a clown.

  “Hunter’s here,” my dad’s voice drifts up the stairs.

  “Just in time. Thanks for the makeup,” I tell Stella, as I stand up from the chair in front of my vanity. I glance quickly at the mirror to make sure Stella hasn’t gone overboard before grabbing a light sweater from my closet. Just because it’s forty degrees warmer here than back at UMD doesn’t mean the nights don’t get chilly.

  Hunter waits in the entryway and smiles as I descend the stairs. For a moment, I’m back at our homecoming dance with him waiting in the foyer and me walking down in my black, silk dress with the spaghetti straps and flared skirt. The dress I first wanted, my dad had put the kabosh on because he felt the neckline was too low, but he settled on letting me have the mid-thigh length. Hunter had smiled at me then, in his shirt and jacket, holding a rose corsage. My heart had fluttered as I took each step. How beautiful I felt. How lucky I was to be going to Homecoming with one of the best looking and most popular boys at our school.

  Hunter waits for me now. And I’m descending th
e same steps. But something feels wrong, like I’m in the wrong body and living someone else’s life. Like somebody different should be at the bottom of the stairs.

  But who?

  There’s never been anybody, but Hunter. Even at UMD, there’s never been a guy who could even compare to Hunter. So, where’s this coming from? And why does everything feel wrong? From my dress to Hunter to my parents standing in the foyer watching me.

  I try to shake the feelings off. It’s been a long month so far at school, and I have a long year in front of me. So many decisions—too many decisions. There’s grad school to think of. And where to go next. And there’s next week’s physical chemistry exam. And my honors project and the psychology research I’m helping professor Walters with. So, so much.

  Hunter meets me in the entry way and takes my hand. I smile, hoping I don’t have lipstick on my teeth. He grins back at me, that familiar Hunter grin, but I notice the bottom of his lip trembles slightly. Is something wrong with him? With us? Relax, Sage. Go out. Enjoy your night with the most perfect boyfriend in the world.

  “Have a good night kids,” Dad says. His words are deeper as if there’s more significance to them than all the times he’s said it before. Mom’s smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. They are both acting very weird. Maybe it’s Mom’s visit with her parents?

  “Thanks,” Hunter tells them. I just stare, trying to read their expressions before Hunter places his hand on the small of my back and directs me out the door into the night air.

  When we reach the car, Hunter holds the door for me. “I thought we should be fancy for our fifth anniversary,” he says. “So, I made reservations at the The Golden Star.

  “Wow, that is fancy.” The Golden Star is one of the fanciest restaurants in town. It’s also probably the most expensive. Like one hundred dollars a plate expensive. “Maybe I should have dressed up more.”

  “No,” Hunter says. “That dress looks perfect on you.”

  “Thanks.” There it is again. That feeling. Something is not right. Hunter shouldn’t be saying this—not in this dress. I shake it off and glance at Hunter’s profile as he climbs into the car and starts the ignition.

  As we drive to the restaurant, Hunter asks about my college and classes. My answers are short. I try to ask him about his, but his answers elude me. My mind keeps drifting from the nervous look in Hunter’s eyes to the weirdness in my parent’s expressions to the strange feelings this dress evokes.

  We pull into the restaurant valet parking and Hunter insists on getting my door again. Inside, we’re seated right away, and he orders a bottle of wine. I’ve never been a huge drinker and I bite my lip as the waiter fills the glass in front of me. I’ll feel guilty if I don’t drink it. Hunter’s paying so much. So, I take a tiny sip and smile at him across the table.

  “Order whatever you want,” Hunter says. I open the thick leather menu, gasping when I see the prices. I scan the menu looking for the cheapest entree but there is nothing less than 3 digits, so I settle for the least expensive item I can find. A salad.

  “Is that what you really want?” Hunter whispers as the waiter leaves the table.

  “Yes,” I say. “I’m trying to watch my weight. Senior slide and all that…” I press my hand to my stomach.

  “Really.” Hunter lifts an eyebrow. “I’m not sure that’s something you need to worry about.”

  The waiter returns with a basket of warm bread and our conversation from the car picks up again. Hunter fills me in on what some of our old friends are up to. I half-listen as I butter a slice of the bread. It’s not that I don’t care—it’s just…it’s just that strange churning of emotions.

  “Do you know what you want to do after college?” Hunter asks. He licks his lip and there’s a slight wobble to his voice. Okay, is he nervous? Is that what this feeling is? Is he going to break up with me? I mean, I thought we were happy, but…

  Did he meet somebody else?

  “Not really.” I take another sip of the wine. It warms my blood, relaxing the questions swirling in my brain. I set the glass back down, my hands so shaky I nearly tip the glass. Hunter notices and reaches his hand across the table, as if to steady me.

  “It’s okay,” he says. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now. I’ve been going back and forth on what I want too. Where do I go now? What do I want? All that stuff. I think I’m as freaked out as you.”

  “Yeah,” I clear my throat. “I feel the same way. This life stuff and all—it’s so confusing.”

  “Would you ever come back here?” He bites his lip and shifts in his seat. Dread sinks into my stomach. He is going to break up with me. That’s this odd feeling—this feeling something’s not quite right. He’s going to break up with me. At least he’s nice enough to take me out for a fancy dinner beforehand, I guess. Wait, why is he spending so much money on a girl he’s about to dump?

  I think it’s the wine.

  He still stares at me though, waiting for an answer, but I don’t have one. I look down and fidget with my fingers, trying to steady my thoughts. “I don’t know. As much as I love UMD and Lake Superior, I miss my family.” Stella’s face flashes in front of me. “I think my sister has really missed me.”

  “I’ve missed you too,” Hunter says, his voice deepening. He still holds his hand over mine, and his fingers squeeze around my palm. We are interrupted with the waiter setting our plates in front of us.

  I analyze Hunter as I pick at my salad. Am I reading him wrong? Someone about to break up wouldn’t be saying they missed me, right? I take another sip of wine, before setting my fork down.

  “I’ve missed you, too.” It’s the right thing to say, but the words feel empty, automatic. What is wrong with me tonight? One minute I’m worried he’s going to break up with me and now I’m worrying he isn’t. My mind is all over the place. Stop drinking, Sage. Right now. But when I stare at the glass, there’s hardly any missing. A few sips of wine shouldn’t cause me to feel this crazy, should it?

  “Do you want to take a walk?”

  “What?” I jump at his question. Hunter motions to the door leading outside. The Golden Star sits on a river walk, bordered by glowing lanterns that reflect in the water. It’s gorgeous, especially in the cooler months without the stifling heat making it uncomfortable.

  “We can take a little walk and come back for dessert.”

  “Okay.” A cool breeze sounds refreshing. Hunter signals the waiter and stands up. I follow, Hunter reaching for my hand and guiding me to the door. Outside, I shiver. The sun has gone down and even with my sweater, it’s chillier than I expected. He takes his suit jacket and wraps it around my shoulder.

  “Better?” he asks, and I nod.

  He takes my hand and leads me to the railing overlooking the river. I look up toward the stars. I’m always looking up at the stars. But the city lights are too bright, and all I can make out is a handful of specks that may or may not be actual stars.

  “Do you ever wonder if there is life out there?” I ask.

  “What? Like life on other planets or something?”

  “Yeah,” I say, still staring deep into the sky. “Other people like us. Maybe staring up into their sky and wondering if there are people like them out there.”

  “Like aliens? Little green men? No, not really.” His answer brings a flush to my cheeks. My stomach twists. There’s that feeling again. As if he can sense my discomfort, Hunter strokes his finger along my cheek. “I kind of like my life right here.”

  I flush again. He drops his hands, his fingers taking mine and we begin to stroll along the walkway.

  “Do you want children?” he asks. I blink. Where had that question come from?

  “I guess,” I say. “Someday. I love being Stella’s big sister.”

  “Me too,” he says. “My nephews were in town last week. They say the most adorable things. Lucas was telling me— “I flinch.

  “Sage?” Hunter stops. “What’s wrong?”

  Lucas.
Why had that name felt so funny? Breathe, I tell myself. Breathe. I know his nephew’s name is Lucas. I met little Lucas. Breathe, Sage.

  “I’m sorry,” I muster. “I guess I was just thinking about how fast your nephews have been growing up. All that I’m missing, I guess.”

  Hunter takes both my hands, turning to face me. “You are missing a lot. And so are we. I love you, Sage Cassidy. More than anything, I love you.”

  Okay, he’s definitely not breaking up with me. “I love you too.” The words are automatic again. Like muscle memory.

  Hunter smiles. “I’ve been thinking about us a lot. About growing up with you—elementary school, junior high. About junior year, when you walked into school in that pink sweater with your hair pulled back and gave me that cute smile. It took me weeks to work up the nerve to ask you to homecoming.”

  “Really?” I ask him. “You never told me that before.” He was the popular one. I was the introvert who hung out in the library.

  “Yes. You were different. Like in your own little world or something. I kind of liked that.” My heartbeat picks up slightly and I wait for the butterflies I always feel when Hunter tells me something sweet. But they don’t come.

  Tonight, it’s more like anxiety.

  “Thanks,” I try to smile. This churning—this lack of feeling. There’s a growing dread in me I’ve never felt before around Hunter. I’m in one of those mirror mazes where none of the reflections add up and all I want to do is keel over and puke.

  “You were and still are everything I imagined. You’re sweet. You care about others. The way you are with your sister. My family loves you. And the way you smile—I love your smile,” he continues. I clutch my stomach, hoping he doesn’t notice how queasy I am.

  Hunter stops and drops to one knee. In his hands is a black box and he opens it to reveal a sparkling ring. “Marry me, Sage Cassidy. Marry me. Let’s make what started five years ago turn into the rest of our lives.” People gasp around us. My stomach flips and that funny feeling explodes in me, running up and down me, prickling me with goosebumps, and electrifying my skin. Hunter watches me expectantly, his eyes confident as they wait for the only answer, I can give him.