Shifted by Lily Cahill Page B

wouldn’t pass the dress code. But he could wait. 
    Charlie parked next to Briar’s car in the farthest corner of the lot, where there weren’t many cars. He pulled a book from his pocket and retrieved the flashlight he kept in his glove box for exactly this purpose. Charlie had been looking forward to the new Steinbeck novel, a sequel to Cannery Row , and with a sigh he settled in to read as night fell around him.
    He fought to concentrate for almost thirty minutes. When he realized that he had read the same sentence three times, he killed the flashlight and tossed the book onto the seat next to him in frustration. He wanted to get caught up in Doc’s adventures on the California coast, he really did. But he couldn’t think of anything but what he was going to say to Briar. 
    Someone opened the door to the supper club, and light and music poured out. It had been years since he’d been here. Since … the last night before he went to college. He and Angela had danced under the sparkling lights of the chandeliers. That might, he reflected, have been the last time the two of them were really happy together.
    They grew up together, but Charlie hadn’t paid much attention to her until the first day of sophomore year, when she walked into third period history wearing a bright red sweater that seemed to say “go” instead of “stop.” Angela had grown up over the summer; more accurately, she had grown out in all the right places. He didn’t remember much from Mr. Jackson’s class, but he sure remembered that red sweater. 
    For her part, Angela didn’t seem to notice him until he made the varsity baseball team. She was a cheerleader. After the first game, when he hit three home runs and made a double play, she had been the first to run out to the field and hug him. She’d pressed those beautiful breasts into his chest and whispered, “you’re the best player on the team” in his ear. 
    And that was that. For the next two years, Angela was by his side for every festival Independence Falls could come up with. Everyone seemed to take for granted that they made a perfect couple. Angela was beautiful—she had the sort of tall, curvy body that made his teammates waggle their eyebrows at him in the locker room, and shiny dark hair that she wore in a side-swept bob that showed off her dimple. 
    He’d given her his pin senior year, and vowed that once he got his career on track, they would be married. 
    It all seemed so long ago now. 
    The fights had started almost as soon as he left for college. He didn’t write enough, didn’t call, didn’t bring her back presents when he managed to make it home for the weekend. She had been convinced he was fooling around on her. She couldn’t get past the idea that he was out in the wide world while she was stuck in Independence Falls, waiting for him. 
    They’d been fighting again, that fateful winter night when he’d come around an icy corner too fast to avoid the buck standing in the middle of the road. 
    For a moment, the memory of dancing with her was so real he could almost smell her perfume. He could almost feel the warmth of her in his arms. Then a breeze rocked the truck, sweeping the memory of her away. 
    He didn’t often think of her anymore. Guilt over his role in her death and worry over his own recovery had made it difficult to truly mourn her. He almost didn’t recognize the boy he’d been the last time they had danced together. He was a man now, shaped by tragedy. 
    A man, he thought, who would never dance with a pretty girl under twinkling lights again.
     
    As the night wore on, Charlie questioned his decision to wait for Briar. His leg was aching from sitting still so long, and his stomach was growling. It was still fairly early, and Briar would probably be working for hours yet. 
    But then, as if he’d conjured her, the back door to the supper club banged open, and Briar came out. 
    Charlie figured that was his cue. He carefully maneuvered his