Fragile
Page 7
“Omigod, I didn’t even realize I’d left it,” she exclaimed, rushing to Hardy’s side to take the bag. She sat down beside him on the couch and opened the case. Hardy chewed his lip as she lifted the camera out of the bag. He saw her expression fall just as the gasp left her lips. His heart broke for her. “I was going to take some pictures of our Free Friday Afternoon.”
“Miracle, I’m so sorry. Cheyenne said she accidentally dropped it when she got it out of the trunk.” Hardy felt dirty and deceitful even repeating such dishonest drivel.
Much to his surprise, Miracle smiled. It was small and her lips trembled with the effort, but she did it. “I’m sure she didn’t mean to,” she choked out, her voice wobbling.
“Probably not,” Hardy agreed quietly, feeling all the more wretched when he saw Miracle’s chin quiver. And then he got mad. “No, you know what? I think she did it on purpose. Cheyenne is an unparalleled bitch and I’m sorry that you ever had to meet her.” After his heated explosion, Hardy reverted to just feeling bad for Miracle. “I’m so sorry.”
Miracle nodded, but her head remained bowed as she tried to compose herself. Remembering the way she’d spoken of photography and lovingly stroked the case containing her camera, Hardy felt like he’d carried her dead dog to her doorstep rather than a piece of equipment.
Just then he saw one fat tear overflow her eyelashes and slide slowly down her left cheek. He could only imagine what a horrible day she’d had.
Reflexively, as though he’d done it every day for years, Hardy reached out and wiped it away with the backs of his fingers. Miracle raised her head and smiled a watery smile at him.
“I’ll get it fixed for you,” Hardy offered. It was so spontaneous, so organic, it surprised even him. “Until then, we can share mine. Joint custody.” Miracle chuckled, another tear spilling down her cheek. Hardy wiped it away as well. “Just please don’t cry.”
Miracle nodded, sniffling. “I know it’s stupid. I just really wanted to take as many pictures as possible this year. And now…”
“Now nothing. I told you, you can use mine whenever you like until yours is fixed. I have another one. And I will get yours fixed! It’s partly my fault anyway. I should’ve warned you about Cheyenne before something like this happened.”
Miracle frowned and cocked her head to one side as she considered him.
“What?” Hardy asked. Miracle just continued to gaze at him. “What?” he repeated.
“How did someone like you end up with someone like her?”
Hardy shrugged, both embarrassed and ashamed. “Just stupid I guess.”
“No,” Miracle said, shaking her head. “I don’t think so. But I’ll figure it out. Eventually.”
Hardy smiled. For some reason he liked the sound of that. It made it seem like they had a future together and that prospect made him extremely happy.
Silence stretched between them and, although Hardy could’ve sat staring at Miracle for days, he thought it probably best that he leave.
“Well,” he said, standing, “if it’s all right, I’ll take that with me and see about getting it fixed on Monday.”
“You really don’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I want to.”
“No, really, I’d feel terrible.”
“Please. It’s the least I can do.”
“No, I—”
“It will make me feel better. Really. Please?”
At that, Miracle searched his eyes and then sighed. “All right, but I’m paying for it. Just let me know how much it is before you give them the go-ahead.” She added the last quickly, leaving Hardy in no doubt that she really didn’t have the money to have it fixed, which made him feel even worse.
“Fine,” he said, having no intention of doing any such thing. He found that he truly wanted to do this for her. As a gift. “And seriously, you can use one of mine until it’s fixed.”
Hardy slowly made his way toward the door, reluctant to leave her, but knowing he had to.
“Thank you. I really appreciate that, but I can wait. There’ll be other pretty days at the park.”
Hardy stopped and turned back to Miracle, who was following close behind him.
“Did you have plans to use it this weekend?”
Miracle shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant about her ruined schedule. “It’s no big deal. Like I said, there will be plenty of other opportunities.”
A mental image of her with the red balloon flitted through Hardy’s mind. There were obviously things she really wanted to do and he suspected that many of them had emotional motivations. He couldn’t help but wonder if she’d gotten to release a balloon like she’d wanted to do.
“I don’t have any plans tomorrow. How ‘bout I meet you there? I’ll bring both cameras so I can get some shots in, too. I’ll get a leg up on my homework.”
Miracle’s smile widened and her eyes sparkled with pleasure and interest. At least Hardy hoped that’s what it was—interest. In him.
“Seriously?”
“Sure.”
“Okay. Tomorrow then?”
“Tomorrow. What time?”
“Eight? Is that too early?”
She was so considerate, Hardy had to grin. “No. Eight is fine.”
Hardy left in high spirits. He thought of Miracle all the way home. Never in his life had wanted to kiss a girl so badly.
CHAPTER FIVE
Hardy would never admit it, but he’d awakened at 6:07. Despite his inability to go to sleep for thinking of Miracle, he was still up early, practically vibrating with excitement. He relished the idea of getting to spend the whole day with her, even if it was in a public place taking pictures.
Time seemed to creep by, so Hardy made a quick trip to the store and was already at the park by 7:30, thinking he’d just wait on her. Only he didn’t have to wait. She was already there.
They’d neglected to establish a place to meet, so Hardy thought he’d walk to the bench on which he’d first seen Miracle. Typically, he wasn’t a very sentimental person, but that day, that first moment he’d seen her, was indelibly etched into his memory.
When he topped the small hill that led down to the bench under the tree, Hardy stopped in his tracks. There, sitting in a single shaft of early morning sunlight, was Miracle.
She was alone. The park was still quiet and empty around her. As usual, she was wearing a peaceful yet hauntingly sad smile as she watched something closely. Hardy followed her gaze and saw two squirrels cavorting at the bottom of a tree. Round and round they went, chasing each other in a spiral pattern first up the trunk and then back down to romp and play around the roots. While they were cute and entertaining, Hardy didn’t find them nearly as fascinating as the girl who watched them.
Squatting, careful to make no noise that might alert her to his presence, Hardy knelt to take his camera from the bag, leaving the case and the other camera lying at his feet.
He took pictures of Miracle smiling as the two squirrels frolicked in the dewy grass. He took pictures of her closing her eyes and tilting her face to the sun. He took pictures of her staring off into space, as if deep in thought. And he took pictures of her bowing her head, as if those thoughts were too troubling to face.
Hardy watched her for nearly an hour before he realized he was technically late for their meeting. Stowing his camera back in its case, he untied his gift from the strap of the second case and stood to make his way to where Miracle still sat.
She must’ve heard his footsteps when he got closer. Miracle’s head jerked toward him and she smiled brightly. Almost too brightly.
Hardy knew the instant she made note of what he was carrying. He watched her smile fade and her chin begin to tremble. When he stopped in front of her, he saw the tears shimmering in her beautiful green eyes.
“What’s that?” she asked, a slight tremor in her voice.
“It’s a gift. For you,” Hardy said, offering her the ribbon attached to the bright red balloon he towed.
Miracle reached forward and took the balloon, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Hardy was at a loss. He’d thought it would make her happy, not make her cry. Fidgeting with the straps of the two camera bags, he confessed, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Miracle shook her head, visibly struggling to get a grasp on her emotions. “No, you didn’t. It’s just…it’s so…I’m just happy. That’s all. It’s very nice of you.”
Not knowing what else to do, Hardy moved to sit beside her on the bench. Miracle stared up at the balloon for the longest time before she spoke again.
Sliding her eyes to Hardy, she concluded, “You remember me.”
Holding her gaze, Hardy nodded.
Miracle looked back up at the balloon.
“I had kidney cancer. Oncocytoma. They removed my left kidney and were pretty sure that got it all, but I still had to have chemotherapy and some radiation. I was so sick during my treatments I didn’t feel like using my camera. I’d see all these amazing things I wanted to take pictures of, but I never seemed to feel like it. I promised myself that if I lived through the last treatment, I’d bring a red balloon to the park and get a picture of it drifting off into the sky. When I was so sick I could barely hold my head up, I could close my eyes and picture that scene. I think in my head, it was almost like watching my cancer disappear.”
Hardy remained silent. There were no words that could express how he was feeling. There was no way to tell her that his heart was breaking for her, that he would rather have taken those chemo treatments himself than for her to have to suffer through them. He knew it sounded absurd, probably was absurd, but in his soul he knew it was true. Somehow, Miracle had shaken him to his core.
Although they’d practically just met, Hardy wanted nothing more than to take Miracle in his arms and protect her from the world—from hurt, from illness, from suffering, from disappointment. He wanted to keep her safe and happy, to give her a life free from cares and worries.
Her soft, cool fingers on his arm brought him back to the present.
“Thank you,” she said again.
The words themselves were simple enough, but in her eyes was a depth of emotion, of gratitude that he couldn’t fathom. She appreciated in a way that most people never would. She appreciated like someone who had nearly lost everything and would never take another day, another breath for granted as long as she lived. She appreciated like someone who had looked death in the eye. And survived.
“My pleasure,” Hardy managed to squeeze out past the lump of uncharacteristic emotion in his throat.
He watched Miracle dig and claw her way out of the quicksand of bad memories and reach forward for the happiness of the moment, of the now. Her lips curved into a bright smile and her eyes glistened with pleasure.
She hopped up off the bench and held out her hand. “Come on. We’ve gotta let this baby go and get some pictures.”
Hardy, unable to recover quite as quickly, had to work to find a smile to return. But he did. And then he took her proffered hand and stood to his feet. “Lead the way.”
She grinned impishly at him and turned to drag him toward the gazebo. At that moment, Hardy knew he’d follow her anywhere.
********
They were out of film by lunchtime. Hardy had brought six rolls plus the ones already in each camera, but they’d burned through them in no time. The funny thing was, Hardy knew when he developed them there would be very few shots of Miracle’s balloon floating off into oblivion. Although they’d both snapped a few pictures, the moment had been so poignant they’d spent the majority of the time just watching the balloon rise, each lost in silent thought.
Sniffling had brought Hardy’s eyes back to Miracle. Her face was tilted toward the sky and tears were streaming from the corners of her eyes across her temples to wet the hair just beyond. He’d felt uncomfortable staring at her, although he really wanted to, so he’d forced his eyes back to the balloon. But he’d been compelled to do something, anything to give her some comfort, some support, so he’d reached over and grabbed her hand, holding it between them on the bed of the grass.
She’d let him hold it for quite a while, long past the time when her sniffles had died off. Hardy could’ve stayed that way forever—sitting with Miracle, holding her hand, staring up into the perfect sky—but the intimacy of the scene had been destroyed by a group of kids with kites that seemed to emerge out of nowhere.
Hardy knew exactly how she felt when he heard Miracle sigh.
“Wanna go grab some lunch? My treat,” he asked lightly. Even though the morning had been incredibly comfortable, he suddenly found himself nervous.
Miracle looked at him solemnly, nearly making his heart stop in disappointment. But then she smiled.
“Lunch sounds great, but only if it’s my treat.”
“Nope. It’s on me.”
“Absolutely not. I used all your film!” Miracle argued.
“That’s why I brought it. So it’s still my treat.”
Miracle started to argue and Hardy reached out to put his finger over her lips. It was meant to be a playful gesture. Yes, for Hardy it had the added benefit of being able to touch her, but he really did mean for it to be playful. It quickly turned more serious, however, when Miracle’s eyes met his and he felt her lips relax beneath his finger, parting slightly. Hardy lost awareness of everything around him except for the feel of Miracle’s soft mouth and warm breath against his skin.
Slowly, Miracle raised her hand and wound her fingers around his wrist to pull his hand away from her mouth just enough for her to speak.
“Miracle, I’m so sorry. Cheyenne said she accidentally dropped it when she got it out of the trunk.” Hardy felt dirty and deceitful even repeating such dishonest drivel.
Much to his surprise, Miracle smiled. It was small and her lips trembled with the effort, but she did it. “I’m sure she didn’t mean to,” she choked out, her voice wobbling.
“Probably not,” Hardy agreed quietly, feeling all the more wretched when he saw Miracle’s chin quiver. And then he got mad. “No, you know what? I think she did it on purpose. Cheyenne is an unparalleled bitch and I’m sorry that you ever had to meet her.” After his heated explosion, Hardy reverted to just feeling bad for Miracle. “I’m so sorry.”
Miracle nodded, but her head remained bowed as she tried to compose herself. Remembering the way she’d spoken of photography and lovingly stroked the case containing her camera, Hardy felt like he’d carried her dead dog to her doorstep rather than a piece of equipment.
Just then he saw one fat tear overflow her eyelashes and slide slowly down her left cheek. He could only imagine what a horrible day she’d had.
Reflexively, as though he’d done it every day for years, Hardy reached out and wiped it away with the backs of his fingers. Miracle raised her head and smiled a watery smile at him.
“I’ll get it fixed for you,” Hardy offered. It was so spontaneous, so organic, it surprised even him. “Until then, we can share mine. Joint custody.” Miracle chuckled, another tear spilling down her cheek. Hardy wiped it away as well. “Just please don’t cry.”
Miracle nodded, sniffling. “I know it’s stupid. I just really wanted to take as many pictures as possible this year. And now…”
“Now nothing. I told you, you can use mine whenever you like until yours is fixed. I have another one. And I will get yours fixed! It’s partly my fault anyway. I should’ve warned you about Cheyenne before something like this happened.”
Miracle frowned and cocked her head to one side as she considered him.
“What?” Hardy asked. Miracle just continued to gaze at him. “What?” he repeated.
“How did someone like you end up with someone like her?”
Hardy shrugged, both embarrassed and ashamed. “Just stupid I guess.”
“No,” Miracle said, shaking her head. “I don’t think so. But I’ll figure it out. Eventually.”
Hardy smiled. For some reason he liked the sound of that. It made it seem like they had a future together and that prospect made him extremely happy.
Silence stretched between them and, although Hardy could’ve sat staring at Miracle for days, he thought it probably best that he leave.
“Well,” he said, standing, “if it’s all right, I’ll take that with me and see about getting it fixed on Monday.”
“You really don’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I want to.”
“No, really, I’d feel terrible.”
“Please. It’s the least I can do.”
“No, I—”
“It will make me feel better. Really. Please?”
At that, Miracle searched his eyes and then sighed. “All right, but I’m paying for it. Just let me know how much it is before you give them the go-ahead.” She added the last quickly, leaving Hardy in no doubt that she really didn’t have the money to have it fixed, which made him feel even worse.
“Fine,” he said, having no intention of doing any such thing. He found that he truly wanted to do this for her. As a gift. “And seriously, you can use one of mine until it’s fixed.”
Hardy slowly made his way toward the door, reluctant to leave her, but knowing he had to.
“Thank you. I really appreciate that, but I can wait. There’ll be other pretty days at the park.”
Hardy stopped and turned back to Miracle, who was following close behind him.
“Did you have plans to use it this weekend?”
Miracle shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant about her ruined schedule. “It’s no big deal. Like I said, there will be plenty of other opportunities.”
A mental image of her with the red balloon flitted through Hardy’s mind. There were obviously things she really wanted to do and he suspected that many of them had emotional motivations. He couldn’t help but wonder if she’d gotten to release a balloon like she’d wanted to do.
“I don’t have any plans tomorrow. How ‘bout I meet you there? I’ll bring both cameras so I can get some shots in, too. I’ll get a leg up on my homework.”
Miracle’s smile widened and her eyes sparkled with pleasure and interest. At least Hardy hoped that’s what it was—interest. In him.
“Seriously?”
“Sure.”
“Okay. Tomorrow then?”
“Tomorrow. What time?”
“Eight? Is that too early?”
She was so considerate, Hardy had to grin. “No. Eight is fine.”
Hardy left in high spirits. He thought of Miracle all the way home. Never in his life had wanted to kiss a girl so badly.
CHAPTER FIVE
Hardy would never admit it, but he’d awakened at 6:07. Despite his inability to go to sleep for thinking of Miracle, he was still up early, practically vibrating with excitement. He relished the idea of getting to spend the whole day with her, even if it was in a public place taking pictures.
Time seemed to creep by, so Hardy made a quick trip to the store and was already at the park by 7:30, thinking he’d just wait on her. Only he didn’t have to wait. She was already there.
They’d neglected to establish a place to meet, so Hardy thought he’d walk to the bench on which he’d first seen Miracle. Typically, he wasn’t a very sentimental person, but that day, that first moment he’d seen her, was indelibly etched into his memory.
When he topped the small hill that led down to the bench under the tree, Hardy stopped in his tracks. There, sitting in a single shaft of early morning sunlight, was Miracle.
She was alone. The park was still quiet and empty around her. As usual, she was wearing a peaceful yet hauntingly sad smile as she watched something closely. Hardy followed her gaze and saw two squirrels cavorting at the bottom of a tree. Round and round they went, chasing each other in a spiral pattern first up the trunk and then back down to romp and play around the roots. While they were cute and entertaining, Hardy didn’t find them nearly as fascinating as the girl who watched them.
Squatting, careful to make no noise that might alert her to his presence, Hardy knelt to take his camera from the bag, leaving the case and the other camera lying at his feet.
He took pictures of Miracle smiling as the two squirrels frolicked in the dewy grass. He took pictures of her closing her eyes and tilting her face to the sun. He took pictures of her staring off into space, as if deep in thought. And he took pictures of her bowing her head, as if those thoughts were too troubling to face.
Hardy watched her for nearly an hour before he realized he was technically late for their meeting. Stowing his camera back in its case, he untied his gift from the strap of the second case and stood to make his way to where Miracle still sat.
She must’ve heard his footsteps when he got closer. Miracle’s head jerked toward him and she smiled brightly. Almost too brightly.
Hardy knew the instant she made note of what he was carrying. He watched her smile fade and her chin begin to tremble. When he stopped in front of her, he saw the tears shimmering in her beautiful green eyes.
“What’s that?” she asked, a slight tremor in her voice.
“It’s a gift. For you,” Hardy said, offering her the ribbon attached to the bright red balloon he towed.
Miracle reached forward and took the balloon, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Hardy was at a loss. He’d thought it would make her happy, not make her cry. Fidgeting with the straps of the two camera bags, he confessed, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Miracle shook her head, visibly struggling to get a grasp on her emotions. “No, you didn’t. It’s just…it’s so…I’m just happy. That’s all. It’s very nice of you.”
Not knowing what else to do, Hardy moved to sit beside her on the bench. Miracle stared up at the balloon for the longest time before she spoke again.
Sliding her eyes to Hardy, she concluded, “You remember me.”
Holding her gaze, Hardy nodded.
Miracle looked back up at the balloon.
“I had kidney cancer. Oncocytoma. They removed my left kidney and were pretty sure that got it all, but I still had to have chemotherapy and some radiation. I was so sick during my treatments I didn’t feel like using my camera. I’d see all these amazing things I wanted to take pictures of, but I never seemed to feel like it. I promised myself that if I lived through the last treatment, I’d bring a red balloon to the park and get a picture of it drifting off into the sky. When I was so sick I could barely hold my head up, I could close my eyes and picture that scene. I think in my head, it was almost like watching my cancer disappear.”
Hardy remained silent. There were no words that could express how he was feeling. There was no way to tell her that his heart was breaking for her, that he would rather have taken those chemo treatments himself than for her to have to suffer through them. He knew it sounded absurd, probably was absurd, but in his soul he knew it was true. Somehow, Miracle had shaken him to his core.
Although they’d practically just met, Hardy wanted nothing more than to take Miracle in his arms and protect her from the world—from hurt, from illness, from suffering, from disappointment. He wanted to keep her safe and happy, to give her a life free from cares and worries.
Her soft, cool fingers on his arm brought him back to the present.
“Thank you,” she said again.
The words themselves were simple enough, but in her eyes was a depth of emotion, of gratitude that he couldn’t fathom. She appreciated in a way that most people never would. She appreciated like someone who had nearly lost everything and would never take another day, another breath for granted as long as she lived. She appreciated like someone who had looked death in the eye. And survived.
“My pleasure,” Hardy managed to squeeze out past the lump of uncharacteristic emotion in his throat.
He watched Miracle dig and claw her way out of the quicksand of bad memories and reach forward for the happiness of the moment, of the now. Her lips curved into a bright smile and her eyes glistened with pleasure.
She hopped up off the bench and held out her hand. “Come on. We’ve gotta let this baby go and get some pictures.”
Hardy, unable to recover quite as quickly, had to work to find a smile to return. But he did. And then he took her proffered hand and stood to his feet. “Lead the way.”
She grinned impishly at him and turned to drag him toward the gazebo. At that moment, Hardy knew he’d follow her anywhere.
********
They were out of film by lunchtime. Hardy had brought six rolls plus the ones already in each camera, but they’d burned through them in no time. The funny thing was, Hardy knew when he developed them there would be very few shots of Miracle’s balloon floating off into oblivion. Although they’d both snapped a few pictures, the moment had been so poignant they’d spent the majority of the time just watching the balloon rise, each lost in silent thought.
Sniffling had brought Hardy’s eyes back to Miracle. Her face was tilted toward the sky and tears were streaming from the corners of her eyes across her temples to wet the hair just beyond. He’d felt uncomfortable staring at her, although he really wanted to, so he’d forced his eyes back to the balloon. But he’d been compelled to do something, anything to give her some comfort, some support, so he’d reached over and grabbed her hand, holding it between them on the bed of the grass.
She’d let him hold it for quite a while, long past the time when her sniffles had died off. Hardy could’ve stayed that way forever—sitting with Miracle, holding her hand, staring up into the perfect sky—but the intimacy of the scene had been destroyed by a group of kids with kites that seemed to emerge out of nowhere.
Hardy knew exactly how she felt when he heard Miracle sigh.
“Wanna go grab some lunch? My treat,” he asked lightly. Even though the morning had been incredibly comfortable, he suddenly found himself nervous.
Miracle looked at him solemnly, nearly making his heart stop in disappointment. But then she smiled.
“Lunch sounds great, but only if it’s my treat.”
“Nope. It’s on me.”
“Absolutely not. I used all your film!” Miracle argued.
“That’s why I brought it. So it’s still my treat.”
Miracle started to argue and Hardy reached out to put his finger over her lips. It was meant to be a playful gesture. Yes, for Hardy it had the added benefit of being able to touch her, but he really did mean for it to be playful. It quickly turned more serious, however, when Miracle’s eyes met his and he felt her lips relax beneath his finger, parting slightly. Hardy lost awareness of everything around him except for the feel of Miracle’s soft mouth and warm breath against his skin.
Slowly, Miracle raised her hand and wound her fingers around his wrist to pull his hand away from her mouth just enough for her to speak.
