Capture the Wind for Me (16 page)

My mouth creaked open. My mind raced for something, anything, to say. I stared at Greg Kostakis, and he stared at me. I thought,
I'm an idiot; he's going to think I'm atotal idiot.

And still I couldn't move.

He gave me a smile that nearly sucked the breath from my body. “Hi.” His fingers fell away from the shampoo bottle. He looked at me almost expectantly.

“Hi,” I stuttered. “I'm . . . you're . . .”

Vague recognition spread across his features. “You are Jackie?”

He said my name in a glorious accent, the sounds all softened and warm. It came out more like “Tsoky.” My name! I managed a nod.

“Hi.” He took a step toward me. I fully expected to die right there and then. Collapse on the tile floor. Mrs. Wedershins would have to leave the counter and come clean up the mess.

“Glad to meet you.” The “meet” sounded like “mit.” “Jessie and Celia tell me about you.” He held out his hand. He wore a gold ring with a dark blue stone.

I slipped trembling fingers into his. My shake must have felt limp as a fish. He squeezed briefly, then let go.

Words would not come. He cocked his head and regarded me with amusement. “You can talk?”

I laughed then, a shaky, amazed little laugh that bubbled right up my throat. “Yes.” The next thing I knew, words gushed from me. “I've been wanting to meet you too. I just didn't expect it to be here. I love your song; I listen to it all the time. When Katherine told me you were comin', I could hardly believe it—”

My eyes widened. What was I doing, going on like this? “Sorry,” I mumbled. “For babbling.”

He frowned. “‘Babbling'?” He said the word like “bobbling.” It sounded so cultured, coming from his mouth.

“Um. You know, goin' on and on about somethin'.”

Greg raised his chin in a slow nod. I hoped because he understood the word, not because he agreed with it. “In Greece, we learn English in school, but I do not speak it much until I write songs in English. I have many words to learn.”

“You speak it great,” I assured him. We stood there, trying to think of something else to say. I cleared my throat. “How long are you staying?”

Oh, good grief, did that sound too ...something?

“Until Tuesday.” He smiled again, almost shyly. “I just arrive a few hours ago. Nice to meet you so soon.”

How to respond to that? Surely he hadn't been thinking of me. “Why did you come?” I flicked my eyes toward the ceiling. “Sorry. Am I asking too many questions?”

“No.” He laid a hand on the back of his neck. I gazed at his arm muscles, then blinked away. “We are in the States for our first tour. We practice twelve hours a day. Now we have some time to rest. My brother's wife says to come with her here. She says it is quiet.”

Twelve hours' practice a day. For the first time it occurred to me his life may not be all ease and roses. “You must work really hard. I can't imagine it. I used to be in gymnastics, but I never practiced so many hours in one day.”

He nodded.

“Well. I'll tell you one thing about Bradleyville—it's real quiet, all right. Believe me, you'll get rest here. In fact, by the time you leave, you'll probably be bored to death.”

“Oh, I don't—”

A blonde woman appeared around the aisle corner. “Greg, did you—”

She took one look at me and stopped dead in her tracks. Her cheeks paled. For a moment, everything seemed surreal, as though I were the famous person causing someone to nearly faint. My cheeks warmed under her stare.

She brought a hand to her chest. “Oh, I'm so sorry. For a moment I . . .” She moved toward me. “You must be Jackie.” The words pulsed with emotion.

“Yes.”

She took my hand in hers. Suddenly, I realized who she was. I almost wanted to pull away.

“You look exactly like your mama. I suppose you've heard that many a time, but it's true.” Her blue eyes misted. The sight shocked me. “I'm Celia Cander. Your mama was my best friend all during school. The last time I saw her, she wasn't much older than you.”

“Hello,” I managed. She loosened her grasp, and I slipped my hand away.

She seemed to pull herself together. “I see you've met Greg.”

“Uh-huh.”

I wanted to dislike her. I
did
dislike her. Just thinking of her and Daddy made me blush again. And what she'd done to Mama!

“I'm so glad we ran into you,” Celia said. “Until I came back last year to help my father after his stroke, I'd been away from Bradleyville since high school. I was so sorry I never got the chance to see your mama before she passed.”

I nodded. Greg gave me a sad smile.

Celia shifted her attention to him. “So. Did you find what you need?”

“Ah. Yes.” He picked up the bottle of shampoo. He hesitated. “You need a ride home?” he asked me.

“Thank you, no.” The offer amazed me, but I just couldn't. Even to be with him, I couldn't bear another moment in Celia Cander's presence. “I can just walk.”

“I walk with you then? Okay?”

I stared at him, surprised out of my wits. “Okay.”

I forgot all about the perfume.

Oh, the memories of that walk. I can still picture the dappled shadows on Greg's shoulders as we passed under maple trees. I can hear the timbre of his voice as he told me about his life in Greece, his mother and father. “Mamma” and “baba,” as he called them, emphasizing the last syllables. The faint, spicy scent of his sun-warmed skin. The way he watched me out of the corner of his eye as I talked. Greg had given his purchase to Celia to take home and so walked free-handed, running his fingers over a flowering bush as we passed, tapping someone's mailbox. As if he paid attention to everything around him.

He's
really
here, I kept telling myself.
Walking me home.
I don't think my feet touched the sidewalk once.

A couple times acquaintances from school drove by and gawked, trying to figure out who this hot stranger might be. From the passenger seat of her mama's car, Millicent nearly twisted her neck backward, trying to see. Our eyes met for a split second.
Oh, great,
I thought. Questions would abound at school tomorrow. All the same, I didn't expect any of the girls to recognize Greg. They simply wouldn't dream of such an impossibility.

Our walk took no more than fifteen minutes in measured time. But I couldn't begin to measure what happened inside me. Greg seemed to be everything I'd dreamed of. Friendly, nice. “Stuck up” couldn't begin to apply to him. What's more—and this I could hardly grasp—he seemed to like me. His glances lingered, and now and then he leaned toward me, just the slightest bit.
Maybe that's just the way Greek guys treat girls,
I told myself.
Maybe they're all flirts.

We reached my sidewalk. “Well. This is where I live.”

He gazed at our house. “It's nice.”

Grandma's car sat in the driveway. I took a deep breath. “Would you like to come inside? My daddy's still at work, but Grandma is here visiting, so it'll be all right.”

He smiled, as if impressed that I would not have invited him in otherwise. I wondered at that. Surely, he had plenty of girls who would give anything to be alone with him in a house. My cheeks grew warm at the thought. Would Greg do that?

What if Greg had been with a dozen girls? I thought suddenly. What if he saw me as just one more?

“I like to see your house,” Greg said.

Fleetingly, I wondered how Daddy would react when he heard. He'd said I could meet Greg, not exactly bring him trailing home like a lost puppy. Oh, well. Too late to back out now.

Grandma sat next to Robert in front of the computer, watching him play the spaceship game. Clarissa had gone out to play with Alma Sue. Apparently they'd hit on some sort of truce. Most likely, it involved a bag of candy.

Seeing Greg, Grandma rose in surprise. Robert said hi without even taking his eyes off the monitor, as if this weren't the most auspicious moment of my life—bringing Greg Kostakis into my home.

“Good to meet you.” Greg took Grandma's hand with such gallantry that she seemed taken aback. Not half as much, however, as when he answered her questions about his visit. At the mention of his sister-in-law, Celia, startled recognition flicked across her face. My eyes jerked to Greg, hoping he hadn't noticed. How odd it appeared to me—this ancient and disastrous tie between our families.

Grandma quickly recovered. “It's wonderful to have you,” she said in all graciousness. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Ah, I—”

“Now don't you mind; it's the Bradleyville way.” She waved a hand in the air. “Jackie and I'll just get somethin' in the kitchen.”

She pulled me out of the room, still smiling.

“Looks like a good game,” Greg said to Robert as we exited. I heard him ease into the chair next to my brother.

In the kitchen, Grandma put her hands on my shoulders. “Your daddy know he was comin' over?” she asked quietly.

Oh, boy. “Not exactly. He said I could meet Greg, but I didn't expect to run into him today.”

“You'd better call him right now.”

“Grandma, I wouldn't have brought him in if you hadn't—”

“I know that, Jackie. Still, your daddy should know.”

I almost wondered whether she'd be so insistent if I'd brought home anybody other than Danny Cander's brother. Derek had spent over an hour here with just Clarissa and me, and nobody seemed to care. Irritation niggled up my spine at the thought. “Okay.” I turned away toward the phone. Grandma reached into the refrigerator for some soft drinks. “By the way,” I said, baiting her, “do you know who Greg is?”

She eyed me around the refrigerator door. “Whatever do you mean?”

“He's a singer. His group's name is LuvRush. I have a picture of them, torn from one of my magazines, hangin' on my wall.”

She pushed closed the refrigerator door, a soft drink in each hand, and gawked at me. “You're kiddin'.”

I effected a shrug. “Go look at the posters in my bedroom. He's the hottest guy of 'em all.”

“Well,” she breathed. “My.” She set down the drinks and reached into our cookie jar. “My.”

Her reaction proved vindication enough for me. With a little smile, I picked up the telephone. Then hoped like crazy Daddy couldn't talk. And he couldn't. His assistant told me he was in a meeting.

“At least you tried,” Grandma said. “I'll vouch for you.”

We took the drinks and cookies into the family room, setting them on the coffee table. For the next hour, we all talked, Greg proceeding to charm the socks off my grandma. Even Robert paused his game to listen as Greg described the food delicacies of Greece, their pastries, their strong coffee. About the city of Athens, where he lived. How the Parthenon was bathed in golden light at night as it overlooked the city from the Acropolis, and how outdoor chairs from cafés lined the narrow stone streets of the Plaka marketplace. The smell of spinach pie and roast potatoes drifting from the Byzantino Restaurant. Red-orange sunsets over the water at Cape Sounion.

Seemed to me such a romantic place could not possibly share the same planet with Bradleyville.

“Do you stay in touch with your family?” Grandma asked.

“Yes. I have a laptop computer, and I e-mail them.” He turned to me. “You have an e-mail address?”

“Sort of. Daddy set one up for me, but I haven't used it yet. Haven't learned how.”

But if it meant being able to write Greg, I'd certainly learn in a hurry.

With reluctance, Grandma announced she needed to leave. She offered to drive Greg to the Matthews' house. “Wouldn't want you to get lost in our major metropolis,” she commented. He accepted her offer.

The glass door off the kitchen slid open, Clarissa and Winnie panting in tandem as they trotted inside. Winnie sniffed Greg's legs with curiosity, and he hunkered down to scratch behind her ears. Pure bliss half-closed her eyes, her mouth pulling up. If any dog could almost smile, it would be Winnie.

Clarissa's face looked red and sweaty, a strand of hair sticking to her cheek. I brushed it off. She pulled her head away, staring at Greg.

“Hi.” He grinned at her. “You are Clarissa?”

She continued to stare most rudely.

“Clarissa.” I nudged her. “Say hello.”

She frowned. “I've seen you before.”

Greg stood up from petting Winnie. She nosed his hand, begging for more. “Think so?”

“Yuh-huh.” Distractedly, my sister rubbed sweat from her forehead. Then her face lit with sheer amazement. “I know! You're on Jackie's wall. She stares at you all the time.”

If the floor had opened up and swallowed me right then, I'd have been forever grateful. Heat rose to my cheeks.

Greg nodded, looking embarrassed. “Oh.” He bent down again and gave Winnie his full attention.

Robert snickered. I could have strangled him.

“Well.” Grandma rescued me. “I really must be goin'. Come on, Greg, I'll take you home.”

With a searing look at Clarissa, I ushered them to the door. Grandma stepped out onto the porch. Greg touched my arm. “I can call you tonight?”

Surely my cheeks were still flushed. What he must think of me. Just one more groupie who swooned over his picture. “You don't have to do that.” My voice sounded flat. I wrapped my fingers around the edge of the door.

Disappointment flickered across his brow. He turned to leave, then stopped. “I can do it anyway?”

A sunray glinted one side of his hair, faintly dusting it with bronze. He smiled crookedly, and my heart surged.

I nodded.

Briefly, he laid his hand over my fingers and pressed. “I will talk to you then.”

And he was gone.

chapter 18