8BigRed-2006: I'm glad you're enjoying it, thank you :)
Ella: That's my grandmother's name, cool! Thanks so much for your comments.
Just to let you know, we're coming to the end now. I've decided this would be a good place to end it. Thanks for reading!
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The Lights in the River
Chapter 8: The Paths Are Not Parallel
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"I'll see you later, okay?" Marty said as they stopped in front of two paths after walking for five minutes away from the library.
"Okay," she said. They quick kissed each other and went their separate ways.
Tamera had taken about five steps into her dark path when she heard a loud rustling from Marty's path. Then a scream. Then loud footsteps. Finally, a gunshot.
"Marty!" she cried and ran back the way she'd come, practically an expert at those shoes from all the years of wearing them. She reached the entrance to Marty's path just in time to see Marty dodge out of sight and her own father chase after him with a gun in his hand around the opposite side of the hedge that separated all the paths.
She quickly squeezed through the hedges; she knew her father was probably too big to do that. Another hedge waited for her there; and she went through that one too. She had seen Marty going through the hedge a few seconds earlier.
She broke through and crashed into a gate. She looked to her right and saw her father coming around the corner. She looked to her left and saw Marty standing against a wall that trapped him. He looked absolutely terrified. She quickly ran up to him, and grabbed both of his hands, pressing him against her back. She faced her father as a shield.
"Tamera," her father called, catching up with them. "Get out of the way!" He pointed the gun at her.
"Dad, what are you doing?!" she exclaimed. "You're really set on killing him?!"
"You bet your life on it."
"This is crazy! Why?! There's no reason to!" Her heart was beating out of her ribcage.
"I made a vow, girl. I'm going to seek justice. Why are YOU getting mixed up with him, anyway? Don't you know that his family and our family have been rivaling for years?"
"I know," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. The last thing she wanted him to see was fear.
"Don't you know what his parents did to me? Especially his father! He's the one who started the whole thing!"
"But KILLING them, Dad?! Isn't that a bit HARSH?!" She practically screamed at the top of her lungs.
"Well, girl, isn't it a bit harsh for his father to come along and tear my heart out?"
She was determined. "But what do you have against Marty himself? He didn't ask to be born. It isn't his fault. What happened before he was ever alive. Just like it's not my fault that I was born a Mascara."
"What are you talking about, Tamera? It's a great honor to be a Mascara!"
"Well, frankly, I don't want the honor. You can take it back."
Her father's mouth dropped. "How DARE you speak to me that way, young lady! Now, I DO have something against him, because you would've never said that if you would've never met him! I know it!"
"Dad, no! I've felt that way for a long time! It has nothing to do with Marty!"
"Don't give me that, girl!"
"Let him go, Harry," came a firm male voice suddenly.
For a split second, Mr. Mascara's gaze shifted from his daughter to a figure who leaned on the outside of the gate.
"Uncle Joel," Marty whispered in a voice that made Tamera shutter.
"Joel Williamson," Mr. Mascara said. "And Marty Steivenson. Long time, no see."
It took Marty a second to realize that he was talking about him. It sounded so foreign to him.
Joel's eyes showed traces of being afraid.
"You guys should just get out of here," Marty said softly.
"Don't worry, Marty," Tamera said. "I'm not moving. And he won't shoot me. He wouldn't do anything to hurt the family reputation."
"Tamera, I love you! That's not the reason I won't shoot you!"
She didn't say anything.
Marty couldn't see Joel, but he said, "Uncle Joel, get out of here."
"He won't shoot me either, Marty."
"What do I care about YOU?" Mr. Mascara scoffed, keeping his eyes on Tamera.
"Nothing," Joel replied. "You also have no motivation to shoot me because I'm not of direct blood relation ot Mike. But, usually, there'd be nothing holding you back from shooting me like there is with Tamera. But you don't want me the most. If you take the time to shoot me, the thing you really want could get away."
A few minutes dragged on.
"I just want to die," Marty whispered.
Tamera's breathing got faster. "What?!" she whispered back.
"I want to die. I can't . . ." his voice was alarmingly wobbly. " . . . take this or anything anymore."
"Don't you dare," she said, sobbing. "Don't you dare let go!" She tightened her grip on his hands.
"Tamera, get out of the way!" her father yelled.
She didn't move.
"I'll stand here all night if I have to, girl. I've been waiting for fourteen years to seek my final revenge. And I'm not giving up. Not when I'm this close."
"So be it," she said firmly.
A few moments of silence trudged on, until they were all startled by a sudden bullhorn voice, saying, "Drop the weapon, Mascara!"
Tamera and Joel saw a couple policemen standing behind Mr. Mascara. They seemed to come out of nowhere.
Then Mr. Mascara saw them. He slowly dropped the gun and put his hands up.
Tamera was still afraid to let go of Marty, so she froze.
A few seconds later, two cops had her father and handcuffed him. They took away his gun.
Joel started running to the end of the long gate.
Marty dropped his hands and collasped. Tamera turned around and knelt down. He still shook with fear. His eyes were bloodshot. He looked like he'd just actually been shot, yet no external wounds showed.
Tamera held him, highly upset herself. He hugged her back, resting his head on her shoulder. "Why didn't you let go?" he asked.
"I love you," she told him simply.
"I feel . . so bad," he stuttered.
"I know," she said. "But . . . he's gone. The police have him. The gun's gone. You're not dead. You're not dead. It's okay." She kept talking like that.
"I love you, too," he told her.
They started a deep kiss.
"Marty! Marty!"
They stood up. Marty saw Joel running at him, arms open. He ran into them. They hugged for a few seconds, then let go. Joel then turned to Tamera.
"Thank you so much," he said. "I'm sorry I judged you for the rest of your family. But thank you. If it had been anyone else but you, Marty would be dead. He doesn't seem to care about much anything else. I-I can't believe how strong of a person you are."
She smiled at him. "Thanks." Then her face fell when she realized something. "What's gonna happen to my family?"
"Well, I'm willing to help you, Tamera. And - I no longer object to you two dating each other." He looked at Marty.
"Really?" he cried, grinning.
Tamera grinned too.
"And Uncle Joel," Marty said. "How did you just happen to come here at the right time?"
"Martha told me that you went to the library. So, I drove over. When I got here, I heard some commotion and decided to check it out."
"Oh, okay."
"Miss Mascara!" a male voice called.
They turned and saw a man run up to them from the police. "You are Tamera Mascara, daughter of Harold Mascara, are you not?"
She nodded. "I am."
"Miss Mascara, your home has been declared an unfit environment for children. With your father in prison for attempted manslaughter, too-"
"Officer," Joel interrupted. He glanced at Marty. "You know of the unsolved mystery fourteen years ago of the deaths of Michael and Kendra Steivenson."
"Yes?"
"I have reason to believe that Mr. Mascara is responsible for that, also."
"Really? We can talk about that reason a little later. What is your and this boy's name, sir?"
For once in Joel's life, when he heard those words, he didn't cringe and explain that his nephew didn't have a last name.
"My name is Joel Williamson. And this is my nephew Marty Steivenson."
The officer paused. "Steivenson? That's a pretty unusual last name. Are you related to the couple who were murdered?"
"Yes, they-they were my parents."
"How old are you?"
"Fifteen."
"Really? Where've you been living for the past ten years?"
"With him," he gestured to Joel.
"Okay. Well, anyway, Miss Mascara," he turned back to Tamera, who had been worried by what he'd told her already. "Since your brother is a legal adult, he won't be touched. You and your sister, though, will be given to foster care. We've got people aleady on the way to your house to pick up your sister."
"Foster care?" she repeated.
"Wait, listen a second," Joel said. "I'll have to discus this with my wife first, but would it be all right if she came to live with me?"
"What?!" Marty and Tamera exclaimed simultaneously.
"Well, okay. You have to sign and fill out some papers, though."
"Okay. I need to use the payphone over there first."
"Wait!" Marty said. "Uncle Joel, where's she gonna sleep? All the rooms are full."
"I just found out today that Mr. Thomas is moving out. She can have his room. He said he needed to move to New York to sell his new invention better." He smiled.
"Mr. Williamson," Tamera said. "You really don't have to do this."
"I know I don't," he said. "But I want to." He smiled and headed for the payphone.
Marty and Tamera embraced.
"Tamera," Marty said as they pulled away. "Thank you. So much. For saving me out there. I-I really don't know to say exactly what I'm thinking. I can't believe you actually had the strength to do that. Everything was urging you to let go. Including me. I was just . . . so messed up, you know? I couldn't handle eveything that was happening. I just wanted to end it all. And I didn't believe you when you said he wouldn't shoot you."
She kissed him. "I love you."
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THE END