The Cherry Harvest (16 page)

Some began filling plates. Others stood about, drinking, talking.

When a heavyset boy she knew approached her, Kate smiled, wanting to be friendly. “Hello, Bradley.”

“Hey there, little girl.” He came close and put an arm around her waist. “I've got a blanket over there by the woods.”

His body reeked of meaty sweat, his breath of booze. She felt the closeness, the lumbering heaviness. She pulled away. “Thank you, but I'm Clay's guest.”

“Sir Clay?” He laughed. “We all are.” He took a drag on a cigar. “Especially Lizzie.” He paused. “Since you're not one of us, I thought you might want to know.”

Clay and Lizzie? So that's what the interrogations are all about. And if Clay's with her, what am I doing here?

But there he was, walking her way. Clay came forward and took Kate's arm and steered her toward an empty blanket on the lawn.

Biting into her hamburger, Kate forced herself to eat slowly. “This is so so good!”

Clay leaned forward and dabbed her chin with a napkin.

Behind him, the sky was a wash of pink and purple pastels. An evening breeze came soft from the lake. The trio was playing sweet
tunes—“Stardust,” “Polka Dots and Moonbeams,” “You Stepped Out of a Dream.”

Once they'd finished dinner, Kate and Clay moved toward the porch where others stood against walls or sat on chairs, smoking, drinking, listening to the trio. With an attentive audience, the musicians began showing off, jazzing up the standards.

Someone passed a flask to Clay and he handed it to Kate. “Brandy.” His eyes on her.

It burned as it went down.

When he nodded for her to take another sip, she handed it back. “It makes me feel dizzy.”

“That's the point,” he whispered.

She shook her head, laughing, and put up her hand to ward it off.

The sky held that gentle gray-blue light that comes just after sunset, mysterious, romantic. Paper lanterns swayed, softly orange. Fireflies flitted like tiny stars, on and off.

When Ronny and Sylvia danced to the center of the porch, the trio upped the tempo and played an energetic swing. Kate thought of changing into her dancing skirt, but there was Lizzie, watching from outside the circle of light. Kate didn't want to leave Clay now.

He lit a cigarette and handed it to her, then another for himself.

Sylvia's party dress swung up around her thighs. Ronny held her out and then slid her down on the floor between his open legs. He pulled her up and put his hands on her waist and lifted her in the air, revealing her red panties. After that little show, he slid her down close along his body, their eyes locked together.

Kate clapped along with the others. “They dance like they're in love,” she whispered to Clay.

“More like in heat. They like to show off.”

The trio slowed it down. “I'll Never Smile Again.”

Standing next to Clay, Kate swayed, wanting him to ask her to dance.

“Clay!” It was Lizzie, holding out a hand.

Clay looked toward Kate with an apologetic shrug and moved with Lizzie to the dance floor.

The trio played it slow and bluesy, the bass player singing, “I'll never love again . . . I'm so in love with you . . .”

Lizzie moved into Clay, or was he moving into her? So close, so so close. Her arms reaching about his neck, his arms moving down around her waist.

Ronny and Sylvia were up there again, challenging with sexy moves. The trio worked it, playing along, keeping up the competition. Girls squealed. Boys hooted.

In a slow turn, Clay's eyes caught Kate's. He pushed away from Lizzie. Lizzie fell back just then, so he had to catch her. She moved her hands to Clay's chest, her torso so close, her hips pushed in.

Enough!
Kate walked out of the light, over to the buffet tables. She should have brought flat shoes for walking home.

Jake ambled over as if he knew she needed comfort. Kate put her hand on his head and stroked his fur. “Why did I ever think I could fit in with this crowd?” He nosed into her hand. She was woozy. How much had she drunk? She recalled what Mrs. J had said, a summer fling.

“Kate?” It was Clay.

She stood up straight. Katharine Hepburn. “You naughty boy,” she said with a mock pout.

He laughed and took her hand. “Come dance with me.”

Did she want to be on display with Clay? Everyone watching? She didn't dance sexy like Sylvia and Lizzie. But when Clay held out his hand, she took it.

It was a slow one. “Fools rush in, where angels fear to tread . . .” Clay held her at a respectable distance, elbows out. As the song progressed, he brought her toward him until they were close, and closer still. She watched his eyes watching hers. They swirled in rhythm to the music, her body following his every move. The trio played to them, matching their rhythm.

A high voice whooped from the front door, spoiling the moment.

Eva stood under the porch light in a swimsuit. “Catch me if you can!” She ran down the lawn to the lake.

Lizzie followed, dashing from the house.

“Did you bring a swimming suit?” Clay asked.

Kate nodded.

After changing upstairs with the other girls, Kate hurried down to the lake. A slim moon hung amid a million sparkling stars. The water was calm, lapping gently on the fine brown-sugary sand.

Some of the guests sat on the dock, smoking and drinking. Others waded in the shallows. That was where Clay was. Kate walked past them all and dove outward into the water, chilly against the warm night. She swam in a strong crawl, out to where the water was deeper, colder. Sobering cold. That was what she needed.

On the way back, she felt a tug on her ankle. “Where are you going, little mermaid?” Clay swam up alongside. She turned toward him and snapped into a sidekick, slicing through the water like a knife. Swimming in rhythm. When they came to a sandbar, he helped her to her feet and they stood in waist-deep water. Feeling momentarily disoriented, she put her hand on Clay's chest to steady herself. She kept it there, fingered the dark curly hair, thick from nipple to nipple, diving in a dark V toward his swim shorts. She lost her footing, and he caught her and brought her close, and when he kissed her lips her insides tightened.

“Your lips are sweet as cherry pie.” His arms were warm and firm around her, his eyes watching hers. They closed as his tongue plunged in.

Her body was fluid, open. He pressed her to him and she felt a thickness against her pelvis, hard against her, moving against her but with her because she was moving too. Rubbing together. His breathing faster, her breathing faster, her skin tingling. He was panting. She knew about breeding—rabbits, chickens, goats—frantic matings, then off to munch on greener grasses.

When she attempted to push away, he held her tight. “Shh, I won't do anything to hurt you, my love.”

My love!

She couldn't help it. Moving in rhythm, underwater, with the lapping of the waves. She should swim from the dream, but the energy, gathering, gushing, pulsed through her body and she couldn't turn it off. She didn't want to turn it off. Her body quivered against his, her hips moved toward his, his passion hard against her, his hands on her bottom, his mouth on her bathing suit where her nipples stood hard. And down there, rubbing and rubbing and rubbing . . .

“Clay, I—”

“Kate!” He called close in her ear. He grabbed her hard, pressing against her, his body rigid. The thickness hard against her. Then it was gone. He shuddered and moaned.

What just happened? What did she miss?

He opened his eyes and whispered, “Oh, Kate, I'm sorry.”

Though still in their swimsuits, Kate felt as if they had been naked together, so close!

Sorry for what?
She didn't feel sorry for anything. “I feel beautiful in your arms.”

“Ah.” He breathed slowly. Then after a pause, he whispered, “Beautiful. Yes you are. Innocent beauty. Pure and good.” He kissed her face. “That's what I like about you.”

She wanted to stay in his arms forever, listen to the sound of his deep whisper in her ear.

“Kate, I—”

A scream startled them apart. She turned to see Eva in the water, waving something over her head.

“Look what I have . . .” Eva called.

Her bathing suit!

“Oh lord,” Clay sighed.

One of the boys swam toward Eva and snatched the suit from her. “Come and get it,” he called to her.

Eva shrieked and swam after him toward shore.

“Okay, everybody,” Clay called. “Time for fireworks.”

“Time to hit the blankets!” a boy yelled.

Kate worried about what might come next. Recalling what Lizzie had said, Kate asked Clay, “Is everyone sleeping here tonight?”

He smiled and hugged her. “Well, sure.”

“But . . . I can't. I need to . . .” What could she say?

“You can't stay? I should have made it clear in the invitation.”

“I'm sorry, but—” She didn't want to tell the truth. That she wasn't allowed to stay out late. That she had animals to care for in the morning. Instead, she peeked at him from under her lashes and said, “I didn't bring my pajamas.”

He laughed and kissed her cheeks. “Let's go watch the fireworks.”

Kate went inside to change into her skirt and blouse. When she came out, Clay was waiting on the porch. He handed her a sparkler.

“Aren't fireworks illegal, with the war?”

Clay mussed her hair. “Don't worry. We've got boys watching for the Coast Guard down by the shore.”

Kate laughed and kicked off her sandals and ran barefoot down the lawn with the others, writing sparkling messages across the dark sky.

When their sparklers fizzled, Clay led her to a blanket on the grass, just the two of them. Roman candles bursting from shore sent sprays of sparks high into the sky. Noisy things popped, and Kate ducked into Clay's arms to escape the sounds.

“Be right back.” Clay scrambled to his feet and left Kate alone.

Scanning the lawn, Kate spied Lizzie, sitting on a blanket with a group of girls in pajamas, watching her.

Clay returned with ice cream cones dribbling with a rich sauce that smelled of liquor. Flasks of fiery drinks made their way from blanket to blanket—brandy, whiskey, scotch. Fireworks blurred.

KATE WOKE IN THE DARK
to the pulse of crickets in the night. Clay's arm lay across her stomach and she realized where she was. She sat up in a panic.
What time is it?

Her skirt was skewed, crimping her waist. She had to pee. She slipped from under Clay's arm and stepped carefully around couples lying on blankets across the lawn, some sleeping, others whispering. She used the bathroom, found her satchel, and returned to Clay.

“I have to go.”

He moaned.

“Clay?”

“Kate. Oh.” His voice was flat. “Can't you stay until morning?” He reached up to pull her back.

She shook away. “I can't.”

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “I'll drive you, then.”

Clay was silent most of the ride, his eyes on the road. Kate didn't want to distract him. He was tired, maybe drunk. Kate's own brain fizzed and her head bobbed sleepy on the seat, scenes of the party floating through her mind. That thing that happened in the lake. Would Josie know what that meant? No, Kate wasn't going to ask. It was too private, intimate. Maybe that's what love is, secret things you don't share with anyone else.

So drowsy. She startled awake with the thought of Lizzie. Would he go to her blanket and lie with her?

“You're quite the little athlete,” Clay said, breaking into her thoughts. “I could hardly keep up with you swimming.” He glanced her way. “And you shamed me in croquet.”

“I'm just strong . . .” She hesitated. He was used to dainty debutantes who went to charm school. He wouldn't want to think he might lose to a girl who built up her strength lugging pails of milk and shoveling slop every morning.

“Not just strong, but . . .” He paused. “You win because you're smart about it. And you're fun.”

“Sylvia said that boys don't like girls to win,” Kate ventured. Ben had always cheered for Kate when she made a goal in broom hockey on the frozen pond, or when she hit the softball in a direction he couldn't catch. “Is it true? Are college boys so fragile?”

Clay laughed and reached out to grab her hand. “That's what I like about you, Kate. You're not afraid to say and do whatever you want.”

He swung onto Orchard Lane, slowed to a stop, and turned off the headlights. He slid from behind the wheel and put his warm arm around her shoulders and kissed her hair.

She pulled back. “What about Lizzie? The way you danced together—”

“Lizzie?” He sighed. “We were childhood sweethearts, and sure, we dated for a while, but it's long over.”

Could she trust him?

“I need to tell you something, Kate. I've waited until we're alone.” He paused.

He's going to tell me he loves me . . .

“I joined up. I'm in the Navy.” His white teeth gleamed in the moonlight.

Her heart nearly stopped. “You're leaving? Going to war?”

“It was you who knocked me out of my complacency.” He looked so proud. “Oh, Kate, after our talk, I realized this is what I want to do. What I
have
to do. I'm a commissioned officer. I'm going to flight school first, then—”

Kate sat stunned. “But you haven't finished college.” She grasped at random thoughts. “My father never graduated, and he regrets it to this day. Why don't you finish first and—”

“I haven't told my father yet. Not anyone. You're the first.” Clay frowned. “He'll be furious, of course, and would probably agree with you, but there's nothing he can do about it now.”

Kate could feel tears starting to spill down her cheeks. “It's so dangerous, torpedoes and mines and—” It was all her fault. She wished she had kept her opinions to herself.