Unmovable Read online

  Contents

  Scale of Elements, Unmovable, Book 2

  1 AMBER

  2 THE CYPRESS

  3 FARM HOUSE

  4 LAND

  5 NEW EARTH

  6 WAITING

  7 MISS MOLLY

  8 MOVING ROCKS

  9 BIGGER

  10 THE STORM

  11 HIGH WATER

  12 UNMOVABLE

  EPILOGUE: TERRAIN

  Pronunciation Guide

  ENJOYED READING UNMOVABLE?

  About the Authors

  More from Rigoli & Reeves

  COPYRIGHT

  Book 2

  UNMOVABLE

  Rigoli & Reeves

  1

  AMBER

  Amber Walker leaned against the side-porch railing of her large, ranch-style home. The sun began rising over the low hills to the East, but she had been up for hours. She wasn't looking forward to the day, and that had made her restless all night. No, it was more than just nervousness for job interviews, Amber had a feeling in her gut that something wasn't right—like a sinkhole in front of her that she was about to step into.

  She heard some activity from the kitchen and knew it was her father getting his morning routine started. The first rays of morning struck the porch just as the scent of brewing coffee hit her—a person could set a watch by her dad. She was about to head inside and join him when something odd caught her eye.

  Squinting against the sunlight, Amber looked toward their farm’s distant pond and felt a fresh rush of stomach-churning anxiety. The surface rippled with movement but there was no wind. Sure, there were plenty of fish in the pond, but this had the look of something large moving below the surface. Did they have a gator on the property? She didn't think gators came this far north. The sun settled on the pond and Amber saw an odd green flicker of reflected light before the surface stilled again. She frowned, rubbed at her eyes, and decided she'd best get some coffee in her as soon as possible.

  ***

  Later, Amber sipped sweet tea and watched the traffic on IH-35 move past the restaurant window. Cars and trucks raced by, drivers pulling off occasionally to grab a quick meal. The people that didn’t rush back out the door—bag in hand—barely paused long enough to chew their food. Everyone seemed in such a hurry to her, always rushing from place to place, hardly stopping long enough to ever be anywhere.

  Even though Amber preferred taking her time, things were in an uncomfortable motion in her life. High school was over, and it was past time she started thinking seriously about her future. Her original plan had been to work the family farm for the rest of her life, but her grandfather was forced to sell off most of the family’s land a year ago. The sale had solved all the financial woes, but it had left them with barely fifteen acres to share among her grandfather, father, and two uncles. At least they hadn’t lost their homes, but it had been touch-and-go for a while.

  That thought brought her back to the here-and-now and to the neatly filled-out employment application on the table in front of her. A fast-food restaurant hadn’t been her first choice, but her friend Jeanette encouraged her to apply for a cashier position. Amber liked the idea of working with someone she knew but had decided against the job five minutes into the interview.

  The manager had been a dealbreaker in a never-make-eye-contact-leery-creeper sort of way. Amber didn’t consider herself anyone’s idea of a fashion model--she was a sturdy girl, comfortable in her own skin. However, she wasn’t in the habit of tolerating anyone treating her with any sort of disrespect. Her mother and father had taught her better. The interviewer, with a barbeque-stained collar and name badge proudly declaring his identity as “Brent - Shift Manager” to the world, was visibly upset after she had politely declined to accept the job.

  Bullet dodged there, Amber mused and nodded to herself. She wasn’t sure how her friend could stand working for someone like him. Amber planned to ask Jeanette later, but for the moment, she would finish her tea while deciding where to apply next.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the big media screen in the middle of the room showing repeated news feeds on the latest fire in Wimberley. Though the blaze happened weeks ago, it was still newsworthy. It had burned down the hilltop mansion that belonged to the Radcliffs. That family had undeniably deep ties and influences in the town, an impact that made them public figures. In Amber’s opinion, the local news had sensationalized the destruction of the Radcliff family home with barely disguised glee.

  Amber knew Kendra Radcliff and her brother Eric from school and didn’t have strong private opinions about them. Eric seemed every inch the unassuming and harmlessly immature young boy. Kendra, on the other hand, was the sort of alpha-rich girl people either adored or hated.

  Jade Jones had always been part of that second group. There was some terrible drama between Kendra and Jade at prom. Kendra’s house burned down the same night, and Jade didn’t come back to school again. Brutal gossip followed Kendra around mercilessly the last two weeks before summer break. Amber had learned more than she wanted to about who was at the Radcliff house that night. She preferred avoiding trouble and keeping her distance from everyone involved afterwards—or at least she tried to.

  “They have no idea what actually went down that night,” a familiar voice announced from beside her.

  “I don’t either,” Amber replied. She turned to regard Rai Aoi standing behind her. He was holding a tray with four breakfast sandwiches, an assorted pile of hash brown sticks, and two cherry pies. He opened his mouth to continue, but she interrupted by adding, “and I don’t want to know either.” Amber did her best to not look directly at Rai. When she looked at him for too long, she saw things she didn’t like.

  “Aw, come on,” he pleaded as he slid into the opposite seat uninvited. “You’re one of us,” he continued in a conspiratorial tone, “you need to know what happened.”

  “I told you,” Amber replied, “I don’t want any part of your drama group, Rai.”

  “But, you have some kind of power just like me,” Rai said, managing to sound sincere while devouring a hash brown stick. “I can see it around you. You need to find out what you can do!”

  “What I need to do is find a job,” Amber said tersely. She gathered up her papers and got up to go. “Now, leave me alone. I don’t want any part of this— this nonsense!” He looked like he was about to have an anxiety attack over her cutting him off, so she made her way out before he could continue.

  The truth was that there was something odd about him and his friends. Rai, Kendra, and Jordan, all of them had something weird she could see and feel when she was near. It wasn’t normal, and Amber decided that she was better off avoiding them.

  Amber climbed into her truck and got on the road. She didn’t even know where she was going yet, but anywhere away from Rai, and his strangeness, was a good enough direction.

  2

  THE CYPRESS

  Amber parked on the side of the road under a shady tree the following morning. Her favorite local country station played, and she was doing her best to sort out her thoughts. Things were moving too fast for her liking, too many changes in too short a time.

  All the changes started with the failed farm. The family business had been the career she wanted since she was little. Of course, she was happy for her father after the sale. He retired early, but it left her without a plan. Her dad had been very clear about her doing something other than walking along the new fence and complaining about the remaining farmland all day. She had to admit that after two solid weeks of moping, he had a point.

  Now that she had finished high school, her options were either to go to college or find a job—if she wanted to continue living at home. Amber closed her eyes and
listened to her favorite Blake Shelton song all the way through before opening them again. She felt the moisture on her cheeks then pulled down the vanity mirror to check her makeup and sighed.

  “Why do I even bother?” she griped.

  Amber should have turned the radio off. The next job interview was in thirty minutes, and now she had raccoon eyes and strands of unruly strawberry-blond hair sticking up from the left side of her head. The rear wheels kicked up a cloud of dirt as she got back on the road and headed into Wimberley.

  ***

  Amber tucked a small can of hairspray into her purse as she made her way to the Cypress Cafe with six minutes to spare. Two other girls she recognized from school walked out as she went inside. A matronly woman smiled and welcomed her in.

  “Hello, may I help you?”

  “Um, I’m here for an interview,” Amber said tentatively.

  “Are you my ten o’clock?” the woman asked in a still-friendly but more business-like tone.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Amber answered politely. “I’m Amber Walker.”

  “You’re cutting it pretty close, my dear,” she said, taking a quick glance at her watch.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Amber agreed, offering no excuses.

  “Well, let’s go talk for a bit then, shall we?” the woman offered her hand in greeting. “I’m Kathleen.” Amber smiled as she shook the woman’s hand and followed her to a table toward the back of the restaurant.

  The place was a buzz of activity and resonating sounds of food prep coming from the kitchen. They sat down, and Kathleen put on a pair of reading glasses before taking a quick critical glance at a copy of Amber’s application. Amber sighed inwardly, glancing at the pile of applications on the table. “You’re eighteen?” Kathleen asked.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Amber replied. “My birthday was two months ago.”

  “I don’t see any special scheduling requests, and I like that you’re a local girl. You and your folks come in quite a bit. What concerns me is that I don’t see any food prep or server experience in your work history.”

  “No, ma’am.” Amber agreed.

  “So, tell me why I should hire you, Amber,” Kathleen said, carefully folding up her reading glasses and setting the sheet of paper aside.

  “We were farmers, ma’am,” Amber began without pause. “I’m not afraid of hard work and have never dropped a dish in my life. We eat here a lot, like you said, so I have a pretty good idea of what’s expected of me on the job. Besides,” she smiled as she added, “I already know the menu.”

  “That’s a bold claim, my dear,” Kathleen said, arching a brow. “Would you be willing to take a little test?”

  “I would love to, ma’am,” Amber bobbed her head cheerfully.

  “What is the Special today?” Kathleen asked, pulling out a trifold menu but not opening it.

  “Today’s Special is our Chicken Enchiladas,” Amber said, slipping into the role of waiter. “They come with cilantro, lime rice, and a choice of black beans or charro beans.”

  “Are they spicy?” Kathleen continued, smoothly assuming the role of customer.

  “They’re not fiery-hot, but we put a homemade creamy jalapeño sauce on them that does have some heat.”

  “What would you recommend for an appetizer?” Kathleen asked, opening the menu at this point.

  “If I just wanted something to tide me over until the food came, I would recommend chips and salsa.” Amber leaned in as if sharing a secret, “We really do make the chips here, and you can tell. Now, if I was coming in super hungry, the fried pickles are my favorite starter.”

  “That sounds nice,” Kathleen said, thoughtfully perusing the menu, “and I’d like the Tiramisu for dessert, please.”

  “I’m very sorry,” Amber said sincerely without pause, “we don’t currently have Tiramisu as a dessert option.”

  “What desserts do you have then?”

  “We have cheesecake, double chocolate cake, Italian cream cake, bread pudding, and pies.”

  “What sorts of pies?”

  “Our pies are seasonal,” Amber said. “I’ll have to check which ones we have available right now, but we always have apple.”

  “Okay, you know the menu, and I like how you communicate it.” Kathleen nodded. “It said on your application that you can speak Spanish?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Amber said. “I’m fluent in Spanish and pretty comfortable with German, too.”

  “You learned those languages working on a farm?”

  “I learned them from writing letters mostly,” Amber clarified. “My grandfather on my mother’s side is German, and my grandmother on my father’s side only writes in Spanish.”

  “Thank you, Amber.” Kathleen smiled as she folded up the menu. “I don’t have any more questions at the moment. Was there anything you wanted to ask before we finish?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Well, in that case,” Kathleen said, getting up from the table, “I have one more interview to get done before we open. Thank you for coming in today.”

  3

  FARM HOUSE

  Amber pulled up to the long earthen driveway leading to her house. She thought the interview for the Cypress-waiter job had gone well and was excited about the whole thing. She hoped to hear from Kathleen soon.

  She leapt out of the truck to check the family’s large wooden mailbox. Freshly painted to look like a hen, her hand came away from it with traces of white paint. Amber’s mother was seriously into crafts lately. The newfound artistic drive was expressed by decorating mundane objects and appliances to resemble barnyard animals. Amber carefully closed the box after collecting the stack of letters—mostly advertisements—and climbed into her idling truck.

  The lack of any envelopes with disturbing “Final Notice” or “Immediate Action Required” messages on them was a comfort to her. For a while, such messages were all too common in the Walker mailbox. There was one envelope, larger than the rest that stood out to her. She turned it over in her hands curiously. The paper felt expensive, almost velvety. It was addressed to her.

  “Southern College of the Arts,” Amber read aloud. Must be a fancy art school judging by this envelope! Amber didn’t have much interest in art, so she absently tucked it among the rest of the mail. She rechecked her phone before driving toward the house and laughed at herself. The interview was only thirty minutes ago, what was she expecting?

  When she pulled up, her mother was sitting on the porch, waving to her.

  “Got the mail!” Amber announced as she climbed the four steps. The screened-in porch stretched across the entire front and one side of the family home. It served as a common sitting area and—more recently—art studio for her mother.

  “Forget the mail. How’d your interview go?” Her mother asked. She wore a large apron that she had decorated in small bird-shaped blotches of acrylic paint the previous week. She was finishing a breadbox resembling a piglet but dropped the brush into a mason jar filled with dark gray liquid and invited Amber to sit.

  “I did really well, Mom,” Amber replied. “Even though I haven’t waited tables before, I think acing her menu test balanced that out.”

  “We know that menu better than the owner does,” Her mother laughed.

  “Yeah, I hadn’t even thought about the Cypress, mom.” Amber nodded. “Thanks for the idea.”

  “You can thank me after you get hired with a family discount on my lunches!”

  “Don’t jinx me. I haven’t gotten the job, yet!” Amber chided.

  “You’ll get it,” Her mother assured her. “You’d’ve had to really screw up the interview not to.”

  “I hope so, but we’ll see if I get a call back.”

  “You will, I spoke to Kathleen yesterday,” Her mother admitted.

  “No, Mom!” Amber complained. “What did you say?”

  “Don’t be upset. She didn’t know it had anything to do with you. All I did was find out what she was looking for in a new hire,” Amber’s mot
her said in a self-satisfied voice. “They’re losing two of their servers who’re going off to college.”

  “That doesn’t mean they’ll pick me,” Amber sighed. “There was a whole stack of applications.”

  “And none of the others were bilingual,” her mother added, “At least not as of last night. Kathleen mentioned how she was hoping to find someone that spoke Spanish if she could. Twice.”

  “Okay,” Amber smiled, getting up to hug her mother. “That does sound good for my chances. Thanks, Mom!”

  “Careful, you’ll get paint on your blouse.”

  ***

  In the evening, Amber leaned against the porch rail watching the sunset over the squat hills. It was early summer, but there was a welcomed cool breeze and distant gray clouds on the horizon. Perhaps they were finally getting a break from the oppressive heat that had plagued the area all year.

  The big ranch home was quiet when her parents went to her Uncle Ron’s house for dinner. Amber decided to stay home though. She felt pleased with the day’s events and appreciated the time alone to process and maybe do a little reading. The headlights coming up the driveway put those thoughts on hold. It was too early for her mother and father to be coming home.

  A blue Charger pulled up, nearly hitting the little wooden windmill at the foot of the porch steps. Rai Aoi got out of the car in a rush. Amber watched him with an openly displeased expression.

  “Amber!” he shouted excitedly. “Are you okay?”

  “Of course, I’m okay,” she replied. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Well, you haven’t answered any of my texts since yesterday, so I was worried something happened to you.”

  “I blocked you after the tenth one,” she answered drolly. “And the only worry I have right now is this weird stalker that keeps bothering me.”

  “Someone’s stalking you?” Rai replied with a concerned expression. Amber somehow resisted the urge to throw the pig-breadbox at him.