The Edge of Juniper (16 page)

It was like all the oxygen had been sucked up, and I couldn’t get a breath.  “I know you’re upset, but I don’t want to talk about it anymore.  I’m going inside now.”  I got up and went inside, careful not to let the door make a sound as I shut it.  Wanting nothing more than to stomp my feet and pound around like a child, I tiptoed to my room and sat down gently on the bed.  There was no way to be released from the feeling clawing at me.  I wished I was back at the park, spinning on a swing and making the chains twist and creak and my feet rise off the ground.  When I finally let go and spun out all that tension, it felt so free, like flying.  Right then I was spun tight, my chains were doubled up on themselves, and I couldn’t let go.

Malcolm.  The memory of his kisses washed over me.  That had been flying.  That had been release.  I swallowed hard, knowing I couldn’t meet him at the stop sign.  Not tonight.  Not with Donna on her guard and Todd on the warpath.  I wondered how long he’d wait for me.

I must have lain on the bed for an hour, the tension ebbing for a moment as my thoughts drifted to lighter topics, only to coil up inside me again when I remembered.

Celia walked in and closed the door softly behind her.  She looked at me and sighed.  “Fay, why did you have to leave with Abe?”

I still failed to see why it was such a big deal, or how I should have known not to, but I decided I must accept that it was.  “Your parents argued all through dinner.  Your dad was drunk.  Your mom told us we couldn’t come in.  You and Ronan were arguing and cursing at each other.  And there was Abe.”

She sat down beside me on the bed.  “I guess I’m sorry.”

Somehow, a smile popped out on my face, and I had to laugh a little.  A bit of the tension within me dissolved, and I just felt tired.  “You guess?  Coming from you, that’s a major apology.”

“Well, I
am
sorry.  And I already apologized to Abe, too.  You’re right.  I know I have responsibilities concerning Abe.  I know I have to step up, but Ronan gets me so angry sometimes.”

I had about a million things to say to that.  “You love Abe, but you shouldn’t have to be responsible for him.  Not like that, anyway.  That’s your parents’ job.  But yeah, they don’t always manage it.  They have other serious stuff going on too, and they’re probably doing the best they can.”

“Their best really sucks, you know that, Fay?  It sucks.”  I did know.  I’d said as much to Malcolm when he told me Todd was doing his best.

We were keeping our voices low, but Celia let out a quiet moan.  Celia was not a crier.  She was a yeller.  She was an eye roller, and a shrugger.  I couldn’t remember if I’d ever seen her full-out cry.  I didn’t know how she would want me to respond.  A sob broke free from her throat.

I pulled her into a hug and squeezed her tightly while her body shook with the force of holding in the noise but letting out the feelings.  When she calmed down, I put my forehead to hers and pressed lightly, like we used to do when we were little girls.  “If I had one wish,” I prompted, hoping our old game would make her smile.

“I’d wish for my father not to be an alcoholic.”

Oh.  The last time we’d played that game, probably three years ago by now; she’d wished to be a pop star who traveled the country in a hot pink tour bus.  Then I’d wished to own a horse farm where I’d ride for hours every day.  Then she’d wished to go on a cruise and play shuffleboard.  We’d laughed at that one.  We always gave our wishes lots of details, filling hours with our daydreams.

Her stark, heartfelt wish for her father cut me to the quick.  When you can’t lighten a mood, you must dive into it.  You leave the sunlight and the fresh air, and you dive down into the murky blackness.

“I wish Abe didn’t have to worry about getting in trouble for going to get ice cream with me,” I offered.

“I wish it was three years ago, when things weren’t so bad.”  She sniffled.

“I wish you’d get a better boyfriend.”  I couldn’t help but let that one slip out. I needed a breath, so I lifted my head above the surface of the despair.  Celia laughed, and I was glad to have dragged her up with me.

She leaned against me and we didn’t make any more wishes.  We sat there a little longer, then both put on nightgowns and crawled into our beds.  I looked at the clock.  It was fifteen minutes past ten.

Somehow Celia fell asleep quickly, but I lay there staring at the ceiling.  I heard the back door slam, and feet shuffling down the hall.  Murmuring voices told me that Donna was helping Todd into bed.  When their door closed, I felt my body finally relax.  My thoughts drifted, again, always, to Malcolm.  He must be at the stop sign now.  Or maybe he’d already done his waiting and left.  I hoped he wouldn’t be upset that I wasn’t coming.  I had told him I might not be able to make it, but still.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard a tapping sound on the window.  I grinned in the darkness, and jumped up to peek behind the shade.  The thought crossed my mind that it could be Ronan, but I only hesitated a second before lifting the edge of the shade and seeing Malcolm’s face looking back at me.

I turned the lock and lifted the window, thankful again that this was a one story house.  I let the shade fall against my back, liking the way it separated the world inside the house from the world outside the window.  With it behind me, I was part of the outside world.  I drank him in.  He had combed his hair.  Something about that made me feel quite tender toward him.  “I’m sorry I couldn’t come.”

He stepped closer, and I leaned down and out the window, until we were a breath apart.  “I was worried about you.”

“Worried, but not mad?”

“Of course I’m not mad.  I knew you might not be able to come out.  I’m surprised you haven’t kicked me off the property yet.”  He brushed his nose down the length of mine, making me shiver.

“Well, ordinarily I would.  But my uncle was drunk to the point of passing out, and they’re both in bed.  I don’t think we’re in much danger of being discovered.”

Malcolm narrowed his eyes.  “That explains why you couldn’t come.  He was drunk.”

“People get drunk sometimes.  It’s a thing that happens. It’s not always a disaster. It was fine.”  I tottered, trying to balance on the edge of confiding in Malcolm, and respecting my family’s privacy.  I leaned a little farther out the window.  “I don’t want to talk about him.  I have other things more worthy of my brain space.”  I crossed my arms on the sill and smiled at him.

“Fay, you want to talk about brain space?  My brain has been taken over by you.  You’re all I think about.  I think about kissing you, hearing you laugh, holding your hand, telling you things.  It can’t be normal how much I think about you.”

My pulse pounded in my ears.  “There’s no way you could be thinking about me as much as I’m thinking about you.”

Before I knew it was going to happen, his face careened toward me and his mouth covered mine with such urgency it’s a wonder we didn’t both fall through the window and into my room.  This kiss was different from the ones at the pond.  Those had been like blooming, gentle and soft.  It was also different from the kiss at the ice cream shop earlier.  That one was a public kiss, chaste and sweet.  This kiss was in a class of its own.  I felt this one pulling on me from deep inside.  My stomach twisted deliciously and the entirety of my skin felt alive with sparks.

He pulled back for a fraction of a second, but I grabbed him back to me, desperate to saturate myself in him.  His mouth on mine felt more important than anything else in the world.

From somewhere in the house, a door slammed, and I jerked my head back and whacked it on the window above me.  Rubbing the sore spot, laughing in whispers, filled with adrenaline and desire, filled with startled fear about the slammed door--my body was on its highest alert.

“Good night, Malcolm.  Let’s never again let two days go by without seeing each other.”  I reached up and closed the window, locked it, and then dove into my bed.  I watched the window shade settle back against the wall, and felt my heart settled back into a sustainable rhythm.  I thought about the way families were so complex and confusing.  I thought about the strength of my feelings for Malcolm. I thought about the way so many things were new, but it was okay, because deep inside myself, I felt new, too.

12

C
elia released a
long-suffering sigh.  “Fay, he’s out there again.”

I peeked out the kitchen door, holding my soapy hands up so they wouldn’t drip on the floor.  “He didn’t have any yards to mow today, and he wanted to hang out.  He’s got Paul with him.  Maybe they’re going to eat and then do something together.”

Esta walked up behind me and peered out at the boys in the dining area.  “Or maybe he’s come to take you away with them.  Any guy worth his salt will make an effort to include his girl when he’s hanging out with his friends—at least sometimes.”  She glanced at Celia. “He’ll also include his girl’s friends occasionally.”

Celia joined us at the door.  “Not necessarily.  Ronan and I don’t want friends around when we’re together because we’re too wrapped up in each other.”

“Sorry to tell you this, but you’re wrong, Celia.  You and Ronan don’t hang out with your friends because
I’m
your friend and I can’t stand Ronan.”  Esta crossed her arms over her chest.

I took a step back and waited for the explosion, but to my surprise, Celia just laughed.  “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to keep my various relationships separate.  I like doing different things with each of you.”

Esta smiled.  “Thank God for that.  I don’t want your tongue anywhere near me.”

Esta and I cracked up, and Celia pouted, not happy being teased by us both at once.  “Esta, you and me ganging up on Celia is just the thing I need in my life.”

“It’s nice to outnumber her, isn’t it?  Now, back to the matter at hand.  If Malcolm tries to include you in his and Paul’s plans, or if he invites us to hang out too, then he must be serious about you.”

“I don’t know how serious he is.  He sure seems serious sometimes, but he knows I’m leaving in August.”  My chest tightened at the thought.

We were interrupted by Heidi, whose hunched form wandered into the kitchen, cigarette dangling from her lips.

“What if the board of health is out in the dining room right now, Heidi?  Is this the kind of risk you’re willing to take?”  I pointed to her cigarette.

She stubbed the cigarette out on the bottom of her shoe and tossed the butt into the trash.  “If you girls bust my balls about smoking, you better believe I’ll bust yours about standing around and talking.  Get to work.”  Behind her, Dan laughed.  I guess he listened to us more than we realized.

I reached for my dish tub, but Heidi grabbed my arm and steered me toward the sink.  “Finish those first.”  She must have heard what we were talking about and figured out I was about to go search for dishes in the vicinity of Malcolm.  I sighed and plunged my hands into the scalding water.  I had two more hours left of this shift.  I knew Malcolm couldn’t hang around for that long.

When I finished the entire sink of dishes, I dried my hands and snuck off to the supply closet to write a note on a napkin.  It read,
Meet me at your house at two? 
Now that I could legitimately take my tub out to gather dishes, I grabbed it up and headed out to the dining room, hoping he hadn’t left yet.  I pushed through the swinging door and saw he was still there, playing tic-tac-toe on a placemat with Paul.  I walked up and gathered their dishes, leaving the napkin behind.  I could have stopped to talk a bit, but keeping things low-key in public seemed the sensible thing to do.

I moved on to the next table, where I could watch Malcolm while I worked.  I glanced up after clearing away two pie plates, to see him nod.  Not long after that, he and Paul left and I dashed to the kitchen to scrub the dishes in a frenzy, as though the faster my hands moved, the faster time would move.

I knelt down beside Marigold, who, a moment ago, had welcomed me with a hug.  She was weeding her herb garden, and invited me to join her.  No matter what she was doing, she carried a motherly air along with her, and because I missed my mother very much, I was drawn in.  “It’s a little hard to tell which plants are weeds.”

“After a while it becomes second nature.  But I agree, at first it can be hard to tell.  You’re sitting amongst the cilantro.  I have a lot of weeds out here.  I’ve let it get a bit out of hand.  Where you are, anything that doesn’t look like this is a weed.”  She patted the top of a bushy cilantro plant.

We worked in silence for a while, and I enjoyed the smell of the herb on my fingers and the hot sun sinking into my back.  A large monarch butterfly landed on the plant right in front of me.  I could have touched it if I wanted.  Contentment spread through me.  “Your home is a little bubble of perfection.”

Marigold chuckled.  “Well, not exactly.  But I’m glad being here feels nice to you.”

“It does.  You ought to write a book about how to create a cozy home.”

She stopped weeding and sat back on her heels, studying me.  “Is your home cozy?”

I busied myself with weeds, so I wouldn’t have to look at her while I spoke.  “It used to be, before I got older. Both of my parents did things with me all the time.  Big things, like going on weekend trips to the beach, and little things like playing board games after dinner.  I didn’t realize it was happening, but over time we stopped doing things.”  I furrowed my brow, wondering how she kept getting me to spill my guts.

“See then,” she said gently.  “It’s the hearts that make a home.  When they’re healthy and beating strongly in tune, the environment matters little.”  She dug in the dirt and spoke without looking at me, seeming to understand this was a sensitive topic.  “It’s important that you know, all homes suffer times when the hearts inside beat out of tune with one another.  Even mine.  My marriage has had times of distance, followed by times of closeness.  It’s natural for relationships to ebb and flow.”

I didn’t respond, and I was glad she didn’t push me.  I was both comforted and distressed by the idea that relationships ebb and flow.  I wanted there to be no ebbing.  We worked quietly and let the sounds of nature make the noise for us.  The pile of weeds beside me grew larger.  I appreciated the visible proof of my labor.

“Hey, I’m beginning to think you only like me for my mom,” Malcolm said, walking up behind me. He nudged the bottom of my shoe.

“She’s definitely part of the allure.”  I sat up straight, unfolding my feet from beneath me, and leaned against his legs.  I dropped my head back to rest above his knees.

“I was sitting on the porch, waiting for you.  I should have known you’d sneak in the back.”

“Sorry, I got absorbed in what I was doing.  Time disappears when I’m digging in the dirt.”

“Want me to join you, or do you want to come hang out with me in the house?”

I tilted my head way back so I was looking at him upside down.  He smiled down at me, and that feeling of being pulled to him took over.

Marigold waved us away with a warm smile.  “Go.  I couldn’t bear to be around such sweet, new love for very much longer.  The parsley would wilt.”

Malcolm reached for my hand to lead me inside, and with each footstep my head echoed the word Marigold had so easily spoken. 
Love
.  “Your mom is very free with her words,” I whispered, as he held the door open for me to step inside.

He only smiled at me.  “I was thinking; I’ve never shown you my workshop.  Want to see?”

“Of course.”

He led me to a door off the kitchen.  “My parents are nice enough to park in the driveway so I can use this space.  They only complain a little when they have to scrape the ice off their cars in the winter.”

We stepped down into the garage.  “It’s so clean and tidy in here.”  The floor was swept bare of any wood shavings, the tool bench was organized, and the bigger, scary-looking machinery lined one wall.  Wood was stacked according to size and type on the other wall.

“I guess I’m neat when I really care about my stuff.”

“What’s this?”  I pointed to a large, metal thing.

“That’s a planer.  It shaves off the outside of a board, to thin it, and make it smooth and even.”

“Can I try?”

“Sure.”  He pulled the machine away from the wall and plugged it in.  He brought over a short, rough board, and fed it into the planer.  It was loud.  He motioned for me to take the board, and I guided it through.  Sawdust flew around the garage, making a mess.

The finished board was smooth and beautiful, and I ran my hand over the surface.  “What will this become?”

“I was thinking of making a stool to use when I sit on the porch.  I could use it for that.”

“No more bucket?  I like your bucket.”  I reached for a broom and began to sweep up the sawdust.

“Well, I have a lot of projects to get to first. That one’s low on my list.  And the bucket’s good for sweeping sawdust into when I’m done.  Maybe I should keep it.”

“You should definitely keep it.”

He walked up to me and took the broom from my hands.  He leaned it against the wall.  “That can wait.  This can’t.”  He put his hands on either side of my face, and touched his lips to mine, barely a whisper of a kiss. “It’s hot out here, Fay.  Want to go inside?”

“Yes, and right now.  But sometime I want to come back and just sit out here, and watch you use all these things.”

We walked into the messy kitchen and he poured us each a glass of ice water.  I took my glass and turned toward the living room, but he hooked his arm around my waist and pulled me down the hall toward his bedroom.

“Being allowed to be in your room will never stop being weird,” I told him, sinking down onto the bed.  I kicked off my sandals and sat back against the wall, crossing my legs at the ankles.

His gaze locked on my legs.  “Maybe we
should
go to the living room.”

I laughed.  “No way.  Now come over here.  My whole life everybody has gone on and on about kissing, and now I know what the fuss is all about.  We shouldn’t squander this opportunity.  Plus, we can just pour this ice water over ourselves if we need to put out any fires.”

He set his glass down on his desk, and then took mine and did the same.  He launched himself onto the bed, jostling me and bouncing pillows to the floor.  I laughed, loving that he was just as excited as I was.  I settled myself against him, resting my head in the curve of his neck.  When he kissed me on the forehead, right on my hairline, I felt that kiss slither down my body and land, squirming, in my belly.

“It’s not always like this, Fay.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I feel like I’m just learning what all the fuss is about, too.”

“What about all those other girls?”

“
All
those girls?  It wasn’t so many.”  He laughed lightly.  “I meant that kissing’s never felt like this.  It’s different with you.”

“But how could I be good at kissing, when I have no practice?”

“It’s about the feeling between the sets of lips, I think.  If I tell you something, will you try not to laugh?”

“I make no promises.”

“I guess I’ll have to risk it.”  He kissed my head again.  “I think my Clydesdales got loose.  I can’t get a rein on them.”

A laugh bubbled out of me, and I turned to bury my face in his chest.  I felt him shake a little with laughter too.  I took a deep breath, still half buried in his chest.  Today he smelled like clean laundry and pine boards.

“Are you sniffing me?”

“Yes, and you’ll never be able to make me stop.  I love the way you smell.”

He pulled back and put enough distance between us so he could tuck his face into my neck.  It tickled and I tried to wrestle my way free.  “Hey, it’s only fair.  It’s my turn to sniff you,” he said, from in my neck and underneath my hair. He pinned me down while he buried his nose behind my ear.  We laughed as he breathed in and I playfully tried to fight him off, but when I felt his leg on top of mine, I sobered immediately.

His hands were in my hair, and his face was at my neck.  I felt his soft lips press into the skin below my ear and I sucked in a breath.  He let out a low groan and kissed a path from my jaw to my lips, and our tongues tangled up like our legs, and my mind tangled up in knots.

“Malcolm,” I breathed when he moved from my mouth back to my neck.  “I’ll never get enough of this.”

He lifted his head and looked down at me.  He touched my lips with his finger.  “Me neither, Fay.  Me neither.”

I opened my eyes, feeling groggy and momentarily not recognizing my surroundings.  I moved my hand across the solid, warm surface of Malcolm’s back and it all came rushing back to me.  Malcolm’s room, his bed, his mouth.  My stomach tilted and I glowed with the memory.  We had kissed for hours on his bed.  I’d had no idea two mouths could be so interesting.  And really, it only got more interesting the more time passed.  It seemed we had fallen asleep, and the only explanation I could think of was that we exhausted ourselves.

I heard voices coming from the next room, and lifted my head to see around Malcolm’s mountainous body to the clock on his night table.  Panic shot through me when I saw that it was after seven.

“Malcolm!”  I nudged his shoulder and whispered into his ear.  “Wake up!”

He rolled over and opened one eye. “Hi.”  His voice was raspy with sleep.