Sparked (25 page)

“But they haven’t even met you yet!” she said. “I know they’d love you just as much as I do if they met you.”

“Yes, they have. I actually spoke with his mother today. And she made it quite clear that she doesn’t approve.”

“She must be a terrible person then,” Bethany huffed. She crossed her arms over her chest and raised her little chin into the air. “I used to like the Briggs—even though we’re not supposed to—but I don’t anymore. Not if they don’t like you. I hate them all.”

“There’s no need for that.”

“Of course there is,” she said. “They’re coming between you and true love. It’s just like Romeo and Juliet.”

“I certainly hope not,” Cora said. “I’d prefer to keep breathing, if you don’t mind.”

“It’s just so
tragic
,” Bethany said, and Cora could see that she was on the verge of tears yet again. The emotions that girl could cycle through in a matter of moments were sometimes impossible to fathom.

“There are lots of different kinds of love,” Cora said. “Some kinds last a very long time. But others you only get to hold on to for what feels like a moment.”

Bethany’s face looked horror-struck. “That sounds terrible.”

Cora laughed. “It’s not. Not really. I know it’s hard to understand. But sometimes, it can be even more special. That’s the kind of love that Clayton and I have. We both know it’s not forever, so we’re cherishing it while we can. We have to make the little time we
do
have together as special as possible. Then we’ll be able to remember it our whole lives.”

“When I fall in love, it’s not just going to be for a little while. It’s going to be forever,” Bethany said.

Cora smiled. “Six months ago, you said were in love with Donald Krupke. And where’s poor Donald now?”

“Donald Krupke? I never said that. He’s repulsive.”

“You most certainly did.”

“Well, it wasn’t true love then. I was misled.”

“You were not misled. You’ve known him practically your whole life. You were in diapers together.”

“How was I to know that he was evil enough to ambush me with snowballs when I had just curled my hair? I could never fall in love with someone who didn’t appreciate beauty.”

Cora raised her eyebrows and grinned.

“Besides,” Bethany said. “I couldn’t have possibly known what true love really was until Mikey Gould moved to town, could I? I mean, have you seen those eyes? They’re like chocolate.”

Cora listened to her sister babble on about Mikey Gould, who was at least the fifth boy Bethany had proclaimed her undying love for in the past year.

She was glad to get Bethany talking about herself. It was the easiest way to distract her, and Cora didn’t have the energy to try to make her understand the way things were with Clayton. She wasn’t sure she understood the way things were herself. Sometimes she wished she could see things as clearly as she had when she was thirteen years old. Back then, her world had been so black and white. Now she could see all the shades of gray in between. Ignorance would make her feelings so much easier to handle right now.

It hadn’t been a lie, exactly, telling Bethany she had a different kind of love with Clayton. She knew their relationship would be short-lived. That much was true. But she also knew her feelings would last much longer—after Clayton was forced to end it with her, after he’d met someone else who was more appropriate, even after he’d gotten married and begun to build a life that didn’t include her. She could see the way things would be now, could see the way her heart would break again and again. What she couldn’t see was how to stop it, how to stop loving him. She was certain that part was impossible.

And it hadn’t been a lie, exactly, when she’d agreed to Clayton’s ridiculous plan about making their relationship public in two weeks. She wanted to do what he asked. Desperately. The idea of walking around with him in the town square sounded like the most incredible thing she could imagine. But in order to do that, she would have to leave home. And how was that going to happen? What else could she do that she wasn’t doing already? Hadn’t she been trying for years to take Bethany away from all this? 

Accepting his offer for an apartment just wasn’t an option, not when she knew their relationship could never be permanent. An apartment made her a different kind of girl. It made her a Murphy, not a Hollis, and that was the one thing she could never, ever be.

And without a way to leave home, she just didn’t see how they could do what he was asking. His parents wouldn’t let them be. Butch wouldn’t let her win. Her father wouldn’t let himself lose. They’d all go after Clayton with every dirty trick in their arsenal, including her. She couldn’t put him through that. If it was only her, maybe she’d consider it. But she couldn’t put Bethany through that either, not when there was a chance they could both end up worse off because of it. No matter how much she thought about it, there just wasn’t a solution.

For now, all she could do was enjoy what they had. Enjoy it, and hope a bit of distance from his fight with Butch would make Clayton relax and forget long enough to let two weeks turn into three or four or however long she could hold on. Maybe, if she was very lucky, they could have the whole summer.

Even though Cora hadn’t made any promises—had, in fact, clearly discouraged Mrs. Briggs from endorsing her—Florence Briggs had sung her praises at her bridge party. At least, Cora thought she had. Just two days after their meeting, Cora received no less than five new orders from some of the wealthiest women in town. It was so many that Robby—the messenger boy from the general store—had suggested she might talk to the store’s manager, Mr. Powell, about setting up an order box there. 

Cora didn’t know what to make of it. Had Clayton changed his mind about telling his parents? Did Mrs. Briggs think she had broken things off? Or had something that Clayton had said convinced her to be kind? Whatever it was, she wasn’t in a position to turn down the flood of new orders.

She had spent all of yesterday baking until she thought she might melt inside her kitchen. The June sun was out in full force, and with the oven on it was almost unbearable. 

But today she was finally outside. Cora pedaled faster on her bike, relishing the breeze coming down from the mountain as she felt a tiny prick of rain on her nose. It was the very reason she had wanted to get an early start today. Her bike had been stacked high with cake boxes an hour ago, but she’d just delivered the last of the orders—a cherry pie for the diner—and now she was done with her errands for the day. 

She wondered if Clayton would be free tonight. Maybe they could go swimming again if the weather cleared up, and she could wear her bathing suit for him. She liked it when they went swimming. She liked the not-swimming parts best of all.

Cora pedaled up to the library. It was something she and Clayton had come up with before they parted last. Since they couldn’t be seen together for a while, they’d decided to leave notes inside one of the wide flower pots flanking the library’s entrance. Each pot held a large mountain laurel bush that flowered with the most gorgeous pink blooms. They were to leave their notes near the trunk on the right-most pot. 

She had written one before she left that morning. It was stowed away inside an old glass jelly jar to protect it from the rain and nestled in her bike basket.

It read:

C-

Tonight at the cliffs? 9 p.m.? I miss you.

Love
,

-C

But when she reached through the full branches to place the jar, she found there was already something there. It was a tin—a cookie tin that felt empty of cookies. 

Waiting for her inside was a note of her own. It was on thick, creamy paper with the initials
C.A.B.
embossed at the top. C was for Clayton, and B was for Briggs. But what did the A stand for? Adam? Arthur? Adorable? Adonis? She made up her mind to wrestle it out of him the next time she saw him. 

Cora read on.

Darling
,

I’ve waited as long as I can to see you, but two days without looking into your eyes is a specific kind of torture.

Have mercy. Meet me at the cliffs as early as you can get away. I’ll be there by 6:30. 

Your love,

-
C.A.B
.

P.S. I’ve had an inspiration about our dilemma.

Cora couldn’t have kept from grinning if she tried. She felt a little woozy inside that place in her heart with his name scrawled across it. She read the note again. And again. Then she realized people might notice her dawdling on the library steps and figure out what they were up to. For all she knew, Butch might be lurking around town—waiting to see her reading a secret note from Clayton.

She pulled a pencil out of her pocket and scrawled across the bottom of her note. There was no way she was leaving his behind. That she would keep forever.

C.A.B.- 

I am a merciful soul by nature, but at a price. See you tonight by 7. Bring me a kiss for my trouble. (And an answer—I must know what the A stands for.)

-C.J.M.

P.S. Now you have a mystery of your own.

It would be a trick getting out of the house unnoticed by seven, but she would find a way to make it happen.

She rode away from the library wishing she had a bell on her handlebars to zing the entire way home.

Cora excused herself from the table almost as soon as she’d put out dinner. 

“I’m going to lie down. I’m not feeling well.”

“You just gonna leave us to fend for ourselves?” her dad said. Sometimes she liked him better when he was drunk. He was always kinder drunk than he was sober. But he must not have had any money in his pocket tonight, or both he and Butch would have already been at the bar.

“It’s soup and bread. All you have to do is spoon it out and wash the dishes when you’re done.”

“My day, a woman knew her place.”

Bethany reached out and touched his arm, “Don’t worry. I’ll do the dishes, Daddy.”

Huck pulled his arm away almost as soon as she’d touched him. It was as if Bethany’s fingers were pure ice. “Do what you like,” he said gruffly.

Of all the things about their living situation, Cora hated this the most. Huck had never forgiven Bethany for being the cause of his wife’s death, and Cora guessed he never would. It had been a war of neglect ever since. But no matter how cruel he was to her, Bethany never stopped trying to please him. It was as if the child felt the weight of the debt on her young shoulders and tried with every gesture to repay it.

“Just put them in the sink and I’ll take care of them in the morning,” Cora said, squeezing Bethany’s shoulder. “You’re sleeping over at Ella’s tonight, right?”

“Yes, but I can do the dishes before I go.”

“That’s okay. You finish your dinner then run along.”

She felt bad about leaving Bethany behind, but guessed Huck would be off to some pal or another’s house soon to try and rustle up a free drink. It was rare for him to spend an evening at home. When he wasn’t at the bar, he was out with friends. And when he wasn’t out with friends, he was out with Butch. Cora guessed they’d both be gone within fifteen minutes.

As soon as Cora had closed the bedroom door, she was out the open window, climbing the tree down to the ground and racing away before anyone could see her from the kitchen window.

She made it to the cliffs in record time, just as the sun was starting to kiss Jubilation’s purple peak. Clayton’s car was parked exactly where he said it would be. And he was there, too—leaning up against the silver convertible like he was in an advertisement for Aston Martin itself. The sight of him took her breath away. What right did one man have to be so handsome?

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Clayton

He saw her the moment she crested the hill. The sun had turned everything golden and made her look completely angelic. He jogged over and swept her into a kiss. God, the taste of her. He plunged his tongue deeper and lifted her off the ground. She was practically weightless in his arms and he felt like he could hold her like that all day.

“Is that adequate payment?” he growled against her ear, finally setting her back down.

“Not by half,” she said through a playful smile, those big blue eyes sinking an anchor in his chest. “I believe you owe me a name.”

“I’ll give you a clue,” he said.

“Welch!” she said, bouncing out of his arms with a grin. “That wasn’t the deal,”

He opened her door for her and she hopped in the passenger side.

“I decided to pay that part of my debt in a different way.” He started the car then gestured to the picnic basket in his back seat. He’d had fun picking out what to serve her—choosing all the fanciest cheeses and freshest fruits and finest deli meats and an expensive bottle of wine from the family cellar. The picnic felt like a small gesture compared to everything he wanted to do, but it was as extravagant as he could get when he was forbidden from giving gifts. He wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t raise some sort of fuss now.