His mind wandered as the pencil drifted on the page and a soft exhale escaped him when he looked down and realized that instead of drawing the paper representation of what Lydia’s statue might eventually look like, he’d drawn a sketch of Lily, the way he remembered her. With sudden clarity, the exact shade of her amber eyes resurfaced in his memory and he imagined them in the face of the beautiful woman he’d helped tonight.
He’d wondered for a long time what had become of his feisty little friend. The identifying mark on her chin had faded and shifted to the underside of her jaw with the passing of years, but he knew just how she’d gotten that scar.
Chapter Two
“Last one in the kitchen is a horny toad!” Lily cried as she jumped from her bike while it was still rolling up Clay and Del’s front walk.
“Hey, Lil! ’Member what Mom said about the steps!” Clay jumped from his bike with Del hot on his heels, their bikes landing in a big jumble on the front yard as they chased Lily Valentine the last few feet toward the front door. The concrete was wet because his mom had been spraying it down after they’d finished with yard work earlier.
Del hollered, “Lil! You’re gonna bust your butt on the—”
“Lily!” Clay yelled as Lily’s rubber flip-flops slipped on the second wet concrete step and she went sprawling, face-first, onto the steps above. “Oh, shit! Mom!”
Clay’s mom rushed through the front screen door as they reached Lily on the stairs. Lily groaned in pain and sniffled, fighting back tears as they helped her into a sitting position on the steps.
Mom grimaced when she saw all the blood. “Oh, sweetie, let’s get you inside where I can clean this up and get some ice on it. You boys help her up the stairs and then go put your bikes away.”
The boys did as they were told, helping Lily to her feet. Her knees and shins were skinned raw in places, but the cut on her chin was a real doozy, leaking bright-red blood onto her T-shirt. By the time they had their bikes put away and had come in the house, Mom had Lily cleaned up and sucking on a piece of one of her homemade pralines.
Mom crouched down and looked at the split in her chin. “Lily, I think this needs stitches.”
“Nuh-uh!” Lily replied. “If I get stitches they’ll make fun of me at school.”
“Nope. Stitches are cool,” Del crossed his arms over his chest, like the know-it-all older brother that he was. Never mind that he was in the same third grade class they were in.
“For boys, maybe,” Lily replied as Mom blotted at the blood still dripping from her chin. “They already tease me for being fat.”
His mom frowned at her words, and Clay knew Lily was right. She did get teased for being a bit chubby. He thought it was too bad because he and Del had a lot of fun with her. She was a pretty good friend to have, and she could defend herself if she needed to. That was pretty cool, too.
“Lily, it may be uncomfortable but this won’t heal properly without them. I’ll call your mom and we’ll meet her at the emergency room.”
“Oh, all right,” Lily grumbled as she took another bite of her praline. “Can the horny toads come, too?” she asked as she grinned crookedly because of her bloodied lip. Clay stuck his tongue out then grinned as he and Del grabbed a couple of fresh pralines each and followed Mom out to the car.
Lily needed six sutures across the center of her chin, right at her jawline, and Clay and Del were entranced as they watched the doctor stitch up the damage. The next day, just as Lily predicted, several of the meaner boys at school teased her, calling her “Whiskers” because of the black stitches poking out. Just like Clay knew she would, Lily beat the tar out of a couple of them before the teacher could stop her. She might be a little chubby, she might have whiskers, at least temporarily, but Lily was a feisty one, and a good friend to him and his brother.
* * * *
The next morning, one of the nurses on the surgical floor pointed Clay in the direction of the room Lily occupied. He placed the cheerful flower arrangement on her bedside table. The blinds were drawn, and it was obvious she was still sleeping. On silent feet, he approached the bed. She didn’t stir as he sat gingerly on the chair beside the bed and lifted her delicate hand in his.
There was so much of her that was familiar and yet so much that was foreign. Her full lips were the same soft pink that he remembered, though still a bit pale, but they were the sensual lips of a full-grown woman. A little chubby as a child, she had grown into a voluptuous woman with sleek, rounded curves. Her hair was much, much longer than he’d ever remembered seeing it, probably extending past her rear end.