The Understorey, Book One of The Leaving Series (20 page)

Her hand shook when she brought it to my face
and tenderly brushed a lock of hair stuck to a bloody cheek.

“It’s but a flesh wound,” I teased, trying to
lighten the mood. “It’s okay,” I said, turning to Matthew. “Thank
you but I would prefer it if we just left. Thanks for helping me
out man.” I turned to James, “Thanks.”

They both nodded and helped me to my truck.
Jules ordered me into the passenger seat, refusing to let me drive.
I complied only because I knew she wouldn’t take no for an
answer.
    The drive home was exceedingly quiet. I wanted
to touch her so I could see what she was feeling but was afraid of
what I’d find out. The expression on her face was like nothing I’d
ever seen before. At times, I thought she looked angry but she also
looked to be on the verge of tears. She was trying to be
brave.   
    We arrived at her parents’ house just after
one-thirty in the morning but they weren’t home. 

“Where are your parental units?” I
asked.
She helped me inside and took me to the over sized bathroom
attached to her bedroom.

“They’re in New York City for the weekend.
It’s their anniversary.”

She signaled that she wanted me to sit on top
of the counter so she could tend to me and I obeyed.

“Cool. So.......I can’t believe you almost
floored that guy,” I teased, referring to the guy she kicked,
trying to make the situation lighter.

It didn’t work. Tears began to flow and she
buried her face into my chest. I ran my fingers up and down her
back. She pulled away quickly, obviously not wanting to be
comforted, only wanting to be the comforter. She wiped the tears
from her eyes but she wasn’t fooling me. Her eyes were still glassy
trying to hold them back.

    “Jules. This is nothing
babe. Trust me, I’ve been in a lot worse scraps than this.”
She didn’t say anything but tried to smile. She grabbed three
washcloths from a drawer and waited for the water to get warm
before soaking them and wringing them out. She helped me remove my
shirt and I twisted in pain from having to contort my sides and
chest. The bruises had already started to show which made her
gasp.

“Yikes,” I said standing up in front of the
bathroom mirror. “Oh well. Remember that two hundred and fifty
pound lineman that Reggie couldn’t block me from? This isn’t much
worse than that.” She nodded.

I grimaced as she took a damp rag to the
blood on my face and neck. When I was blood free she had me lay
back in a chair in her living room and then went to the kitchen
sink to wash as much blood as possible from my t-shirt. Several
minutes passed in silence.
    “You’re awfully quiet over there Jules. What are
you thinking about?”
    “Nothing,” she said. “Are you okay over there?
Comfortable?”

“Uh, well, Jules my sides are really sore and
it’s hard to get comfortable,” I said.

“I can fix that.”

She pulled an aspirin bottle from a cabinet,
opened the bottle, removed two and grabbed a bottle of water.

    “Here babe,” she said,
handing me the bottle and little pills.

    “Thanks sweetheart,” I
said, swallowing them.

Tears began to well once more.

    “Babe, tell me what’s
wrong.”

    “Me. I’m what’s wrong. You
were well liked before we started dating. Revered even. I come into
your life and all hell breaks loose. I mean, my God Elliott! Look
at what they did to your face! Taylor’s right. I don’t belong in
your group. I’m bad news for you. I’m the one responsible for your
current condition!”

I fought the pain and dragged Jules onto my
lap.

    “Stop! Just stop it Jules!
You’re being ridiculous. Before I met you, I was just another
lemming ready to drop off the cliff. If you hadn’t come along to
wake me up, I would have found myself stuck in a rut going nowhere
fast.

“And you’re right you could never belong in
that group! Because the truth of it is,
they
don’t belong
around you. You’re too good for
them
and I was just stupid
enough to think they could mesh with you but they can’t. Except for
a very very few, they aren’t worthy of our time. And as far as the
drunk goes? I’ll just have to get used to that. I have a feeling
I’ll be fending goons off of you for a long time. You’re too
beautiful for me Jules.”

    “I’m not too beautiful for
you. No one could be. You’re the best Elliott and you deserve the
same but I at least want to earn the chance to always be by your
side.”
    “That’s where you’re wrong Jules.
You
are
the best for me, the very, and you will always be at my side not
because you’ve earned that right to be, that’s absurd, but because
that’s how it’s supposed to be. It’s where we belong.”
I kissed her forehead softly and smiled at her.

    “I’ll be right back,” she
said, kissing my cheek.

She flipped on her iPod’s docking station and
Zero 7’s ‘Destiny’ started playing. I heard her rummaging around
the kitchen for a moment and she came back with some ice wrapped in
a hand towel. She sat in my lap and gently dabbed at the knots on
my face and it soothed them immediately.

“I felt you were in pain and couldn’t take it
anymore,” she said absently, “You’re right, you know? I was being
ridiculous. We do belong together.”

She felt where I needed relief the most and
would keep the ice there until I needed it elsewhere.

“You’re wonderful,” I said.

“Oh whatever. This is not a big deal,” she
said.

“It is to me.”
I grabbed her wrist and stopped her from dabbing. I felt a knot in
her stomach.
    “Thank you, by the way,” she said thickly,
before I could say anything else.
    “For what?”
    “For saving me. For protecting me, Elliott,” she
said, a tear in her eye.
    “I only did what I had to
do.”   
    “No, you did what you
wanted
to do,” she
corrected me, with a teary smile. “I could see what you were doing
for me Elliott. The whole damn room could see it.”
    “What did they see?” I asked quietly.

“That you would risk your life for me. I saw
it in your eyes Elliott. You would die for me, wouldn’t you?” She
asked bluntly.

“Jules, I would kill tigers for you. Yes, I
would die for you.”

    “I know you would,” she
whispered, so thick I could barely understand her, her face tight
with pain, “but please don’t.”

She leaned in to my lips and kissed them as
deeply as she could without causing me pain. The unbelievable love
I felt from her was overpowering and made me forget the hurt. I
pulled her into my chest, kissing her with rigid lips, trying to
channel all the passion I felt for her in them instead of taking it
out on the rest of her.

When the kiss came to an all too short end
she laid her head on my chest and we drifted off to sleep, our
electricity warming us through and making us too tired to remember
that it wasn’t allowed. Before I closed my eyes I could have sworn
Jules had spoken but she was asleep. I simply heard,
sleep well
tonight,
before slipping into a deep rest.

I woke startled at five in the morning to the
sound of the phone ringing. I tapped Jules’ shoulder.

“Shit. Jules. Wake up babe.”

“Huh?”

“The phone’s ringing Jules.”

“Crap.” She stood and ran to answer it.
“Hello? Yes, he is. I.....okay, yes ma’am.” She handed me the
phone, “It’s your mom and she wants to talk to you.”

I dragged my hand over my mouth and tried
hard not to panic.
    “Hello?”
    “What are you doing Elliott? Do you know what
time it is?” She asked.
    “Well, mom, it’s a long story.”
    “I’m listening.”
    “Basically, I got into a fist fight at Matthew
Tanen’s party and got hurt.”
    “Are you okay?”
    “I think so. A few cuts and bruises but I think
I’ll survive.”
    “Oh, you
think
you’ll survive huh?”
    “Yeah,” I continued, ignoring her sarcasm. “I
was covered in blood and could barely walk so Jules brought me here
to clean me up. I fell asleep on a chair in her living room.” I
conveniently left out the part where she fell asleep in my lap. I
didn’t find that to be particularly relevant to the story.
    “And?”
    “And that’s all.”
She sighed.
    “Okay, well I’ll be up and waiting when you walk
in our door in about five minutes. Understood?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
I hung up the phone.
    “Jules?”
    “Yeah?”
    “I’m in deep.”
She bit her bottom lip.
    I walked in my back door four minutes
later.
    “Mom?”
    “I’m in my bedroom,” she yelled.

I walked in to see both of my parents up with
their backs against their headboard, still in their pajamas. I
rubbed the back of my neck to redistribute the pooling blood I know
that had to be painting my face red and leaned my sore shoulder
against the jamb. When they saw me I didn’t get the reaction I was
expecting, at all.
    “Oh my God!” My mom screamed and ran over to me,
my dad not far behind. “What happened to you son?”
    “I told you I’d gotten into a fight.”
    “Oh my God Mark! Look at his face!”
    “I look that bad, huh? You should see the other
guys, barely a scratch on ‘em,” I teased.
    “Who did this Elliott?” My dad asked, inspecting
my throwing arm. He scowled when he saw the knuckles on my right
hand.
    “Couple of college kids, from Charleston I
assume.”
    “Did you call Danny?” My mom asked.
    “No, I didn’t have time to. I needed to get
Jules out of there. We had a heck of a night.”
    “Sit down,” my mom commanded.
    “Well, I’d love to, but I can’t.”
    “Why?”
    “Because they punched the crap out of my ribs
and it hurts to sit.”
    “Well, that quells any suspicions I had about
you and the Jacobs girl,” my dad said.
    “Mark!”
I almost laughed.
    “Are they broken?” She asked.
I’d had a broken rib before.
    “No, just bruised,” I said.
    “Okay, well, let’s just get you upstairs,” she
said, “and we’ll help you lie down.”

They both helped me take a stair at a time
and once I reached the top I exhaled and promised myself that I’d
never let someone hit me in the ribs again.
Death before anyone
punches me there again, theirs or mine
. My parents helped me
lie down and my mom promised me a long talk the next morning after
church.

    The next morning, while
everyone readied for church, I just laid there wishing I could join
them when we heard a knock on the back door.
    “Hi Julia,” my dad said.
    “Hi Mark,” a bubbly Jules said.
She called them by their first names with ease. I could barely
squawk out Mr. or Mrs. Jacobs.
    “To what do we owe the pleasure young lady?” My
mom asked dryly.
Uh, oh.
    “
I thought maybe I’d take care of Elliott
while you were at church. You know, get him water, things like
that.” My mom didn’t respond, so she added, “I’m not skipping out.
I’m going to a later service.”
    “I don’t think that would be necessary Julia.
Suddenly, I’m not so comfortable with you and Elliott being
alone.”
    “Oh,” Jules said, disappointed.
The feeling reached me and was so strong it made my heart ache for
her.
    “Mom!” I yelled, holding my side.
    “Wait here,” my mom said to Jules.
She climbed the steps and entered my room.
    “Mom, seriously?”
    “Well, Elliott. Can you blame me?”
    “I guess not,” I conceded, “but look at me. What
the heck could we even do?”
She thought for a moment and her face softened.
    “Julia,” she called over her shoulder.
    “Yes Shelby?” Still so familiar.
    “Come on up girl.”

Jules bounded up the stairs and burst through
the door, tossing herself next to me. No propriety, that one. My
mom frowned.

    “Look at me, both of
you.”
We stared and I could tell she wanted to laugh at the both of us
but she kept her composure.
    “Julia cannot be on your bed, for one.” Jules
slipped off the bed and knelt on the floor next to me. “Also,
absolutely no unnecessary touching. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” we said in unison.

She closed the door and we heard her mutter
something about her being a fool and something about grandchildren.
We held back laughter and I almost snorted trying to keep it
in.

    “Oh my God, Elliott,”
Jules said, turning her eyes on me.
    “What?”
    “You look like, well, crap if I had to be
honest.”
    “Who said you had to be honest?”
    She thought about it for a second before saying,
“No one, actually. In that case then, you look like a sexy beast!”
She amended.
    “I know I do baby.”
She stood and pecked me on the lips.
    “Ah, ah, ah miss Jacobs. That wasn’t
‘necessary’.”
    “Yeah it was,” she said, a twinkle in her
eye.
    “I brought cards,” she said and threw a deck of
cards on the bed next to me.

She rolled my computer chair over the wood
floor and wedged it as close to me as possible. She sat and
shuffled like a regular Vegas dealer then split the deck in half
for a very grown up game of War.

    “So, can I confess
something to you?” She eyed me flirtatiously, laying down a
card.
    “Always.”   
    “After calming down last night, I started
thinking about you on your white horse and everything and I gotta’
say, I found you extraordinarily
attractive
when you came to
my rescue. That’s my hand sweetheart. My jack beats your
eight.”
    “Sorry,” I said, distracted.
    “Yeah, I mean, the taking charge, commanding a
room, throwing that punch. Sexy. And your Monty Python reference?
Icing on the cake.”
    “Well, nobody expects the Spanish
Inquisition.”
    “See?” She laughed. “I’m not ungrateful that you
came to my rescue, not at all, but I’m a little surprised. Growing
up, you were so patient, I just always kind of pegged you for the
‘lover not a fighter’ sort. Well, also you do the ‘loving’ part so
extraordinarily well.”
    I cleared my throat and grabbed her wrist
tightly, surprising her. “You know, I’ve never understood the
phrase, ‘I’m a lover, not a fighter’. If you’re passionate in love
why would you not equally be as passionate enough to fight for
it?”