Fall has always been my favorite part of the year, with the weather changing and the beautiful leaves and just that fall smell. You'll probably hear me talk about this a lot.
But, because nothing here on earth is perfect, there are some things I don't like about fall - like how everything's dying, and hiding away, or leaving, for winter. Compared to spring, it's maybe a kind of depressing time because it signifies the beginning of the end. At least, for that year.
So fall is a season of mixed feelings. Sometimes sadness, sometimes joy, sometimes hope. It can be a season of beginnings... or a season of endings. And I think through all of that, we have to remember that whatever season we're in, God is in ultimate control.
So to commemorate this month of news and olds, hopes and sorrows, and since I was at the beach and had lots of new inspiration, I decided to write a story about hope and new beginnings and futures, as well as pasts and sorrows and grief.
A story about firsts. (And, as you may have noticed, this is the first part in a two-part series, so you'll get the rest of it next Friday!)
First
The first time I saw her, it was a miracle, I think. The police had checked the beach twice already. It was raining too, like the sky was trying to hide her from reality, darkness creeping down to swallow the sunset in a heaviness until her silhouette was barely visible.
I had a picture from my co-worker, but I would have known without it. She was just sitting there, letting the ocean steal the warmth from her bare feet. No shaking shoulders, no screaming, no yelling. Just quiet acceptance—and that’s so much worse.
My hands fumbled with my phone as I slammed the door behind me, barely managing to press the call button as I jumped from the steamy surface of the road onto the sand. “I found her—I found her,” I gasped. “She’s at the beach.”
In seconds, grass-covered dunes had melted into cold rocks and the tips of my fingers were tingling with the cold. The rain had churned into a torrent of lashing chills and thunder, enhanced with occasional blinks of lightning illuminating a desolate picture: black hair whipping around her thin shoulders, bare arms wrapped around her legs, and eyes trained on the raging sea in front of her.
By the time I reached her, my heart rate had slowed to match my pace, the adrenaline squeezing my lungs dripping away enough to allow my words to be in quiet, calm control, rather than a gasp of energy. “Hey,” I said softly, expecting her to startle, or shift her gaze to me at least. She didn’t even flinch. “Kenna, right? Your—”
“Yeah, I know.” Her voice was brittle, cold, rough—emotionless. “My brother knows you, probably sent you to find me. I know.” Her lungs exhaled a slow, almost sad, sigh, and she settled her chin on her arm. “The police will be here soon, and everyone will be so worried—surprisingly, this isn’t the first time this has happened.”
“Why do you do it?” I blurted out. “Run away and make everyone worried?” I dropped to the slick, icily cold stones beside her, tilting my head to look at her.
“It’s their fault they’re worried. And it’s not like they won’t find me, there’s only so far one can get.”
“So you wish people weren’t worried about you? You wish your brother didn’t come looking?”
“No—I wish people didn’t leave me, and then act like I left them. I wish people worried about me when I’m around, and not just gone. But, wishes don’t come true.”
A thunderclap enunciated her words, giving them an ominous ring, as if the storm was agreeing that life is no fairytale. My eyes dropped from her blue tainted lips and chapped cheeks, to the water curling at her exposed feet. I was shrugging out of my jacket before I gave it a second thought and wrapping it around her now shaking shoulders. “You’re freezing,” I breathed, less of a question and more of a statement. Slowly—finally—she pulled her gaze from the dying horizon, and met mine. And nodded, a single tear fluttering off her eyelid and dripping along her cheek to mingle with the chilling rain on her face. That was all I needed.
I stood, and scooped her into my arms. By the time we reached my car, headlights were slicing through the blackened storm.
“Your brother really cares about you, Kenna—people care about you. Don’t forget that.”
The first time I met her, really met her, it was at a party. A cocktail party, actually, and I was expecting to see her older brother, not her. But the second they walked into the room, I couldn’t help but want to talk to her without the danger of hypothermia overshadowing our conversation.
“Grimm,” I said over the din of the jazz quartet in the corner, weaving around a party of tuxedo-clad penguin-look-alikes. Spinning towards me, a wide grin slipped across his face as he opened his arms to receive my embrace, clapping me hardily on the back.
“Hey, man, thought you’d ditched me for a second there.”
“Me?” I stepped back, mock offended. “Never, bro.”
He chuckled, then pulled Kenna forward, slipping an arm around her shoulders. “I don’t believe you two have officially met,” he said, giving me a don’t-bring-it-up-here look over her dark head. “Kenna, meet Jak, my co-worker and good friend. And Jak, meet Kenna, my baby sister.”
I met her dark eyes, once so drowning in hopeless sadness and now cautious, waiting. Quiet. Her long-sleeved casual dark green dress and hair pulled up into a messy bun were stark contrasts to the wild, icy girl I had carried off the beach, but her stature, the way she carried herself, hadn’t changed—like she was hiding in plain sight.
Her voice abruptly halted my inner analyses. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Jak,” she said softly, sticking out her hand. I shook it, smiling.
“Believe me, the pleasure is all mine. Though, with all your brother’s stories, it’s as if I already know you.”
Her lips didn’t even twitch towards a smile, instead, seriousness shrouded her features, and my smile faded.
“I wanted to say thank you…” Her voice trailed off, barely audible above the chatter and clinking glass as she looked down at the floor. “Thank you—” slowly, she pulled her gaze away from the cheery bustle of the room back to meet mine, sudden openness and raw emotion filling her eyes. “Thank you for saving my life.”
“Of course,” I breathed, eyes locked on her. “Do—do you—would you like to dance?”
Her eyes widened, the tiniest sliver of surprise quickly covered by fear. “Not yet.”
The first time she said sorry was at her brother’s house—a Friday night game night. It was sleeting outside, and the door had just clicked shut behind me with a wet shudder when the basement door slammed open, and Kenna burst onto the landing.
Instantly slowing, she blinked in rapid succession.
“Hey.” Trying to keep my voice as casual as possible, I shifted the container in my hands and gave her a half-smile.
“Umm,” she said slowly, drawing it out as she studied my sleet-glittering jacket. “Grimm said game night was cancelled because of the, um, weather.” Motioning at the door behind me and the puddle of water forming at my feet before shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her loose gray joggers, her eyes fixed on mine with an expectant waiting.
“Oh, um, yeah I—I thought…” I stammered for a response, heat crawling up the collor of my jacket. “It was?”
“Kenna, who’s at the door?” Grimm called from the kitchen. “That Jak?”
Her eyes narrowed, flicking from me to the hallway leading to the kitchen. “You guys planned this, didn’t you?” she asked suspiciously, quiet enough that Grimm couldn’t hear. My face must have betrayed me, because she instantly spun on her heel and with taught shoulders started stalking towards the kitchen.
I raced to catch up with her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her around to face me. “Kenna—wait.” Her eyebrows raised, waiting, annoyance taught in her face. “It’s just a game night, and it took me like three tries to make these brownies.” I held out the containter, still warm with what I hoped would be delicious—edible—brownies.
She took the container carefully, suspicion taking away the edge of her annoyance as she again looked between me and the kitchen, and then out the window at the icy rain slamming against the glass. When she turned back to face me, the slightest trace of a smile was tilting her lips. “Don’t think this means you two will ever get away with this again.”
Two hours, an empty container of brownies, and a whole bag of peanut butter M&Ms later, she slammed her token into mine and looked up at me, saying with the most deviously innocent smile, “sorry.”
And I didn’t know if she was saying sorry for capturing my pawn, or capturing my heart.
The first time I heard her laugh, it was one of those unusually nice evenings in October when the sun was extra warm and you can smell that crisp, fall smell on the breeze.
Kenna’s hair tangled around her pink-tinged cheeks when one of those big gusts of wind creaked through the branches of the trees, and she hugged her arms to her chest, rubbing a hand along the thin, flowery material of her deep red dress. I once again opened my mouth to offer her my suit coat, but she cut me off with a raised hand.
“Jak, I’m fine. I can handle the cold.”
“I know,” I responded quietly, looking at her out of the corner of my eye. The tranquil sing-song of the water that filled the garden around us complimented the glimmer in her serious, thoughtful eyes beautifully, and not even the complexity of the fountains surrounding us could pull my eyes from her small frame.
“What?” she said, giving me her own suspicious side-eye and self-consciously tucking a strand of her dark, ombre hair behind her ear. “Do I have something on my face?”
And, for once, her voice was lacking its serious, cautious undertone. Here, away from the bright lights of her brother’s wedding, away from the loud music and dancing couples and scrutinous glances—away from the pitying, curious looks and fake facades of people who should have cared about her—she was playful, casual, at ease.
I smirked, matching her playful mood. “Yes,” I said simply.
She waited a second, then threw out her hands in exasperation. “That’s it?! You’re not going to tell me what I have on my face? Or why you’ve been staring at me for the last hour like I’ve got two horns sprouting from my head?”
“Nope.” My smile widened even as I quickly backpedaled for my own self-preservation. Her eyes sparkled as she leapt towards me, struggling to mask her laughter with rage.
Unfortunately, a long dress, dangerously high high heels, an uneven pathway in the dark, and numerous large fountains aren’t the best combination for a game of tag. Her laughing yells quickly turned into a squeal and an abruptly cut-off scream. I spun around, nearly tripping myself in my haste, just in time to see Kenna topple over backward into one of the largest fountains.
“Kenna!” I blurted, sprinting back to the fountain and jumping over the side with a splash. She was already sitting upright, her dress heavy and dragging in the water around her, and she looked at her surroundings, blinking quickly. Stunned. “Are you ok?” I asked, wading towards her.
She nodded numbly, running her hand through the water. Then, much to my confusion and horror, she started laughing. Hysterically. “Kenna—Kenna are you ok?” I reached out for her arm to help her up, but she shrugged me off, shoulders heaving with shaking laughter that only increased in its ferocity as she flung her hair out of her face and looked up at me, breathless. Her smile creased her face in a way I’d never seen on her before—completely and wholly real. Not holding anything back.
But it was her eyes that stilled the words on my tongue. They were twinkling and sparking with a joy and vibrancy that exploded from her very core.
“Sor—sorry,” she gasped, choking on more laughter. “I’m just—it’s not—” Leaning back, she motioned at her now entirely soaked self, expensive bridesmaid dress and all. “It’s not every day one falls into a fountain at their brother’s wedding—and in a dress and high-heels too.” Looking up at me, she bit her lip to cover her blooming smile. “I mean, right?”
A chuckle of my own agreed with her. “No, no it’s not. Now,” I reached my hand out to her again, “let’s get some dry clothes on you before Grimm kills us both.” And before I’m entirely head-over-heels myself, I thought, because, with every smile and every laugh and every inch of her heart that she allowed me to see, I couldn’t deny it anymore.
I was falling more and more in love.