The Right Time (19 page)

“Then show me more. Tell me more.
Talk
to me.”

“I don’t have time.” Her head dropped and the building frustration made her feel a little sick. “I’d love to spend every day with you, getting to know you, learning to love you. But I barely have time to eat.”

Those probing green eyes scanned her face, like they were seeking answers hidden below her skin. “Then what do we do?”

“Christmas,” she said, surprising herself. “Come to Beaufort for Christmas. I have almost a month off, and I won’t have a lick of homework.”

“Done. I’ll buy a ticket tonight.”

Blinking in surprise, Hennessy said, “Don’t you have to ask permission?”

Townsend barked out a very amused laugh. “No, Hennessy. I never have to ask permission to be gone.”

“Okay.” She took a breath and laid it all out. “I’ll have to work, both with my grandparents and my daddy. And no matter what happens, we won’t be having sex. I mean that,” she said, the force of her voice surprising even her.

“But if we’re in love—”

“Two issues. One is whether we’re in love. The other is when we can be together if we are.” She grasped Townsend’s shoulders and spent a moment gazing into her puzzled eyes. “I’m going to be as careful with this as I’ve ever been with anything. If this is meant to be, it’s worth doing it properly.”

Townsend started to laugh as she moved away and began to walk again. Hennessy caught up with her while she was still chuckling. “I don’t think there’s one similarity between us. Not one!”

Hennessy matched her stride, thinking about that for a minute. Finally, she said, “You might be right. But that can be a good thing, can’t it?”

“Yeah.” Townsend took her hand, holding on tightly when Hennessy tried to pull away. “I’m clearly not going to get what I want, so I’m keeping your hand. Learn to love it.”

“I hope we both get what we want,” Hennessy said, trying hard to relax enough to enjoy having her hand held in public. “At the perfect time.”

It was a rare treat
to get to speak to Hennessy on the phone, but that wasn’t for Townsend’s lack of trying. They’d finally settled on speaking every Sunday night at six, the only time Hennessy could guarantee she’d have time and wouldn’t be worried about a deadline.

That night, Townsend jumped right in to make sure she had time to lay out her case. “I checked your calendar, and you don’t have class on Thanksgiving or the Friday after. I know you’re not going home, so—”

“I’m going to Brookline with Robyn,” Hennessy said. She felt guilty about it. Townsend could always tell by her voice. It didn’t have its usual calm certainty. “She asked me and I didn’t have any other plans—”

“You knew I’d want to see you, Hennessy. Don’t act like that’s not true.”

“It’s true,” she admitted quietly. “But I knew you’d want me to stay at your house and I don’t feel comfortable doing that.”

“Because?”

“I just don’t. We have plans for Christmas, Townsend. We’re spending a good, long time together. Why don’t we think about that instead of trying for more?”

Her hand gripped the phone so hard she thought she’d break it. “What’s that supposed to mean? Trying for more? Trying for more what? Time with you? You’re goddamned right I want more time with you. Am I supposed to feel bad about that?”

“No, of course not. But I don’t want you to try to make me feel bad about spending time with Robyn. Now let’s just move on—”

“Done.” She punched the “off” button with her whole fist, then threw the phone, watching it bounce on the bed before it ricocheted off the bedside table to land on the floor.

After grabbing her down jacket and a pair of gloves, she raced down the hall, ran down the stairs, and finally stood at the back door of her dorm, the omnipresent scanner reading her ID and beeping her out.

The bracing, cold air was damp and misty, maybe getting ready for a repeat of the snow that had blanketed them two days earlier. She cut across the campus, winding up at the old church they’d turned into an art studio. From the outside, you couldn’t tell Jesus had left the building. A tall, simple white steeple rose up from a peaked roof, with big windows making the studio glow with light. Most of the churches in the area had spotlights on their steeples, showing how tall and pretty they were. But since this was just another classroom, it was shrouded in darkness against the murky sky.

A rickety fire escape on the far side of the building led to a choir loft, now used for storage. Townsend found the length of rope she’d stored nearby, and tossed the monkey’s fist she’d made over the lowest rung. The rusted metal creaked and complained, but it descended enough to let her take a running leap and reach it. She stood on the step for a second and jostled it, making sure it would hold her weight. Then she climbed, all the way up. She’d broken the latch last year and it was easy to push the tiny door open and slip inside. Another set of stairs, dark and musty, let her poke her head up through a panel and hoist herself onto a small widow’s walk that sat proudly at the base of the steeple, surrounded by a short railing.

Now she could breathe. Sitting, cross-legged on the platform, the Green Mountains dark and foreboding in the distance, miles of trees covering every vista, cold wind blowing her hair back, a certain tranquility came over her.

The only time she felt right—really right—was when she was alone. Not just alone. Inaccessible. No one would look for her up here, making this her private fortress.

She sat and thought for a long time, her mood darkening by the minute. The magic of her fortress wasn’t paying off tonight.

Footsteps approached, soft, muffled sounds in the packed snow. A girl wandered down the path, hands stuffed into her jacket pockets, her breath visible in the cold air. Townsend didn’t say a word, but as the girl passed by she stopped and looked at the dangling fire escape.
Shit!

The girl’s head tilted up, her gaze finally rising to land right on Townsend. “Cool,” she said. She didn’t speak loudly. You didn’t have to. Townsend had learned the hard way that sound traveled up. “Can I come up?”

“No. I don’t think so. I like to be alone.”

The kid, either a freshman or a recent transfer, reached into her pocket and took out a good-sized bottle of clear liquid and held it up. “I’ve got vodka.”

Immediately, Townsend’s mouth filled with saliva. Her eyes closed as a sense-memory of ice-cold vodka sliding down her throat sent chills through her body. She loved vodka in a way she’d never be able to explain to anyone who didn’t share her feelings. It wasn’t the way you felt about chocolate or any of the other edible things people loved. This was so much more than that. Much closer to loving a person—a person who never, ever let you down.

The distance between them was great, but Townsend’s hungry look must have been so dramatic it covered the space. “You know you want it.” She held the bottle higher and shook it again. “Let me come up.”

If she’d any belief in god, she would have been sure this was the devil himself, sent to tempt her. The kid not only had vodka, she had attitude. Lots of it. And she was cute. Dark curly hair, delicate bone structure. Probably gay too, or bi enough to use it to get what she wanted. Straight girls didn’t look at you so directly—daring you to refuse.

She was so close to agreeing, so close to throwing five months of sobriety down the damn drain. But she thought, briefly, of Hennessy. Could see those trusting blue eyes staring at her, unblinking. Trusting her. Trusting
her—
the most untrustworthy person to ever walk the earth.
Fuck.

“I’m coming down.” She almost came down the face of the building. Her foot caught a patch of ice and she barely managed to steady herself by grabbing onto the steeple and holding on for dear life. Once she got her feet under her, she shimmied through the panel to the inside stairs, only to nearly fall again.
Goddamn!
Doing the right thing was supposed to keep you safe, not kill you!

Holding onto the railing this time, she clambered down the stairs, then pushed through the door to the fire escape. By the time she jumped from the bottom rung, the kid was waiting for her. “This your rope?” she asked, gazing at it enviously.

“Uh-huh.” Townsend looped it around, making a neat coil. Then she stuck it inside her coat. They might find and confiscate it during bed check, but she couldn’t leave it outside now. The kid would use it—and she wasn’t going to be responsible for a fourteen-year-old falling off the damn roof.

“Why does it look like that?” She pointed at the big knot at the end.

“Sailing knot. Makes it easier to throw.”

“Sure I can’t borrow it?”

“Positive.” She let her eyes fall to the bottle, still temptingly within reach. “You gonna stay outside and drink that?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then come with me. I’ll show you a good place to hide.”

They took off, heading for the garage. If the kid drank the whole bottle and passed out, she’d be safe inside. Of course, she might narc if she got caught, but you couldn’t worry about that.

“You a freshman?” Townsend asked.

“Yeah. You’re a senior. I’ve seen you.”

She looked at the kid, seeing herself three years earlier. For one fleeting moment, she wanted to slap some sense into her. Maybe even convince her not to guzzle a bottle of booze. But that was a wasted effort. “Why don’t you come over to my dorm for a while?” What. The. Fuck.

The kid’s eyebrows knit and her chin tilted. She clearly thought she was being jerked around. “Why?”

“No reason. We could hang out. I guarantee it’s warmer in there than it is out here.”

“I don’t mind the cold.”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “I don’t either. But it’ll be cold until April. You’ve got plenty of time to freeze.”

“Your mom wrote that book, right?”

“Yep. Want to hear about the movie? I was on the set when they shot it.”

The kid stopped and stared. “You were?”

“I was.” She was edging back towards her dorm, luring her closer.

“Okay.” Her eyes narrowed again. “But how do I get into your dorm? My ID won’t open that door.”

“Easy,” she said breezily. “Leave yours outside. The guards are too stupid to count to two. I’ll walk you back out later.”

Suspiciously, she said, “Are you screwing with me? ’Cause I don’t care who you are, I’ll fuck you up if you do.”

It was like looking in a mirror. The kid could have been her twin. “Promise. But I’ve got to warn you. I’ve got no friends left, and people will be suspicious of you if we hang out.”

“Fuck ’em,” she said, grinning cockily.

“Fuck ’em indeed.” She’d always wanted a little sister. Maybe it wasn’t too late.

Townsend ran up the big, elegant staircase, nearly knocking a startled young woman on her ass. “Sorry!” she yelled, not slowing a bit. She reached Hennessy’s door and rapped on it so sharply that her hand ached. The door opened and Hennessy was finally standing in front of her, a slow, sexy smile lighting up her face in a way that made Townsend’s knees buckle. She fell forward, landing in Hennessy’s embrace.

“Not the most graceful girl in Boston, are ya?” she drawled, her breath against Townsend’s cheek making her shiver.

Townsend gathered her wits and regained her balance, stood under her own power and threw her arms around Hennessy’s neck, tugging her down to offer the kiss that had been burning in her imagination.

“Not so fast, June Bug.” Hennessy used her leverage to stand up tall, keeping her mouth just out of reach. “We don’t greet each other that way. We’re friends, remember?”

“We’re a hell of a lot more than friends. None of my other friends have ever forced me to bring my mother to the airport so they could meet before we travel together. She thinks you’re nuts, by the way.”

“We’re courting,” Hennessy said, sounding remarkably prim. “If we decide that we love each other then, and only then, do we kiss.”

“Is this the twenty-first or the first century? Jesus, you act like we’re some old school fundamentalists!”

“Having a little decorum isn’t a bad thing. Being in a relationship with each other is a goal, just like any other goal. This is big stuff, and it’s something we both have to work to achieve.”

“Then why does it seem like I’m doing all the work?” Townsend started to move to the other side of the room to pick up Hennessy’s small bag.

As Townsend walked past, Hennessy’s long arms captured and held her in a tight embrace. Blue eyes bore into her so ferociously that Townsend could almost feel heat coming from them. “I have to struggle with all of my might to keep my hands off you, Townsend Bartley. I want you more than a possum wants grapes, and if I thought it was the right time, we’d be rolling around in that bed like a couple of rabid muskrats. Don’t you
dare
tell me you’re doing all the work.” She grasped the back of Townsend’s head and pulled her close, kissing her forehead, then both cheeks. “If I allow myself to fall in love with you, it’s going to be for the rest of my life. If you don’t feel the same, it’s time to get out. I’m not playing.”