The Edge of Juniper (13 page)

I nodded.

“The problem is, it could never work. Because when Dad gets in a certain mood, he tends to seek out the very people and things that will set him off.  Then he blows off steam and feels better, while everybody else feels worse.”

“And by a ‘certain mood’ you mean drunk.”

She looked at me sadly.  “Yes.  That.  But not only that, sometimes he just has a bee up his butt.”

I laughed for her, which made her smile.  “I know it’s not my job to make sure he doesn’t get mad,” she said.  “But it’s not that hard to avoid some situations.  Mom told me that.  That’s all I meant when I asked you not to talk to Malcolm Dearing.”

“But tonight didn’t have anything to do with Malcolm.  It doesn’t even have anything to do with Malcolm’s dad.  It’s something inside your dad that makes this happen.”

Her expression morphed from bleak to furious, which was somehow better.  Furious Celia was bigger than bleak Celia.  “Then why does it only happen with Mr. Dearing?  Mr. Dearing must play some role in this, you have to admit.”

I thought about that, and about what her life must be like without me around.  Maybe without me there questioning everything and poking all the sleeping bears, it was easier for her to pretend they’d never wake up and bite her.

But her pretending scared me.  I wanted those bears to wake up and lumber around the room, growl in her face and wake her up too.  I poked one.  “It’s because Mr. Dearing
sees
him.”

A desperate, wild look crossed her face, and I immediately realized I’d made a mistake. Furious was one thing, terrified was another. We’d never talked about her dad hitting her mom.  I didn’t even know if she knew that was part of the equation.  I didn’t even know if it was true.  All I knew was that Uncle Todd had so much anger for himself and he couldn’t face it, so he turned it on other people.

I grappled for a lullaby, anything to make the bears return to hibernation.  “Celia, do you still want me to stay away from Malcolm?  Do you think it would help?”

She slumped down in her chair, deflating.  “I want to say yes.  I wish it would help.  But I understand it wouldn’t change anything.  That’s what I was trying to tell you.  I’ve lost my grip on that idea.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t take you more seriously.”

She looked away from me.  “Sometimes I think if I can just keep things calm for three more years, I’ll be out of here and free of it.  But then I think about Abe, and how I won’t truly be free until he is too.  There’s a selfish part inside me that wants to just get out of here when I graduate.  Take off and be happy.  But I won’t be able to do that until Abe can do it too. And what about Mom?  What will happen when Abe and I are both gone?”

“She’s a grown-up.  She makes her own choices.”

“All her options are crap.”  A sob caught in Celia’s throat, and her eyes brimmed with tears.  She wiped them away before they fell.

“Maybe, but…”  I didn’t know if I should say the next part.

“You’re wondering if I feel angry at her for not doing anything about it?”

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes, but then I just feel guilty.  She’s the one taking what he dishes out.  Not us.  Abe and I are safe here, and it’s because of her.  And I love my dad.  I love my family.  It’s screwed up sometimes, sure, but everything will be fine.  Nobody has a perfect family.  This stuff doesn’t happen very often, anyway, and it didn’t used to be this bad.  I’m sure it will get better soon.  I’m making a big deal out of nothing.  Esta says I do that.”  She smoothed her hair down, and sat tall, having talked herself out of her feelings.

“I don’t think it hurts to hope for better, though.”

A car door slammed out front, and we heard the drumming of men’s voices.  We were out of our seats and into our beds before the screen door moved.

9

T
ime in Juniper
vacillated between tranquil and dramatic, turning quickly from too much energy to barely enough.  The days after the carnival were slow, and then slower—we were slugs moving through mud.  No one in my family talked about the events of that night.  We hung there in suspended time.

After everything that had happened, I found I rather liked slow.  Because she wasn’t trying to outrun her life, Celia was able to relax with me.  She and I had been swimming with Esta in her uncle’s pond, and nobody brought up anything hard or discordant the entire time.  It felt like we were ten years old again, swimming until our muscles about burst and then lying on the grass, catching our breath.  The next day was rainy, and Donna taught me how to make a cherry pie.  Abe and I ate our slices on the porch, before sharing an umbrella on a walk to the library.

Now it was mid-morning on another slow day, and I was engaged in another romance novel.  Abe barged into Celia’s room brandishing an orange envelope I’d recognize anywhere.

“Knock before you enter, creep.”  Celia didn’t look up from organizing her make-up drawer.

Abe ignored her and walked to where I sat on my bed.  I set my book aside and took the envelope from him.  “It’s from my parents.”  Mom packed this stationary, but didn’t know how easy it would be to get letters out.  I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stared at the letter, my hand shaking the envelope.

Celia paused her work and looked over at me.  “Fay, they wouldn’t tell you they’re getting divorced in a letter.  That would just be cruel.  Trust me, even if they are splitting up, you don’t have to worry about finding out in the next two minutes.  It’s just going to say how much they miss you.”

“You’re probably right.”

Abe sat down beside me on the bed.  “Maybe so, but do you want me to read it first, to be sure?”

I almost took him up on the offer, but remembered I was four years older than him and should at least try to be the mature one.  “Nah, but will you stay here while I read it?  I’ll let you both read it when I’m finished.”

I opened the envelope and plucked out the letter.  It was in Mom’s longhand.

Dear Fay,

I’m not certain how long it will take this letter to reach you.  You might have been there for a month now.  Regardless, I hope you’re settling into your summer and making many special memories with your cousins.  It isn’t easy on your father and me to go so long without hearing from you.  We miss you terribly.

It’s good for me to be here.  The people are welcoming.  I get the impression our hosts are serving us their best, and I want to tell them to feed us like they normally eat, but I think that might be insulting.  They take pride in giving their best, and I appreciate that.  So I feel I’m eating like a queen.

The things I’m seeing—it’s the kind of situation that makes me feel like a fool for ever having complained about anything.  Your dad says comparing our problems to those of other people helps nobody, and we’re just supposed to do what we can.  So, we’re doing what we can.

It’s peaceful here.  Quiet.  There’s a way of living quietly that suits me, focusing on the work of the moment and not much else.  The roads are terrible, and my butt is bruised from the horribly bumpy drive in.  I hope you’re laughing about that.  Dad’s good and bruised too.  He’s in the shower now.  We use outdoor showers, and Dad wears his shorts—refuses to take a shower naked in the outdoors.  You know how modest he is.  I hope you’re laughing about that too.

Know that we’re doing well.  This work feels purposeful.  I hope you’re enjoying a lazy but also exciting summer, and that my sister isn’t being too stingy with things like curfew and fun.  Thank you for being so willing to live a different kind of summer.  Tell Abe and Celia hello from us, and give my best to Donna and Todd.

                                                                         Love you,

                                                                               Mom

Fifty pounds lighter, I handed the letter to Abe, who read it with a quiet smile on his face.  “Celia was right.  She didn’t say they’re getting a divorce.”

He passed it to Celia, who had finished her organizing project and now sat on her bed flipping through a magazine.  “Thanks.  Now get out.”  Abe stuck out his tongue and squinted his eyes in Celia’s direction, but she wasn’t looking his way.

I laughed and he closed the door behind him.

“You don’t have to be so rude to him.”

“Yes I do.  He’s my brother, and there’s a code of conduct for that.  Otherwise he’d get the idea I like him, and then he’d stick his nose into my business even more than he already does.”  She read the letter, and handed it back to me.  “It’s like I said, nothing too personal in a letter.”

We each went back to our reading.  I couldn’t concentrate on the book, though.  “Can I ask you a question, Celia?”

“Nothing has ever stopped you before.”

“Now that you’ve had sex, do those magazine articles make any more sense?”

She laughed and flipped the magazine to look at the cover. “You mean like this one about how to please your man in every room of the house?”

“Yeah.  Or nineteen things to do with a naked man in a swimming pool.”  I grinned.

“Twenty-seven spots he wants to be licked,” she fired back.

“Five ways to decorate your pubic hair.”

She fell over sideways, laughing, but managed to squeak out, “Paprika:  Not just for the kitchen.”

“Stop, you’re going to give me a cramp.” I clutched my stomach, still laughing.

Not much felt as good as laughing like this with someone.  When we finally regained our senses, I said, “But really though.  Does it make more sense now?”

That set her off again, and through her laughter, she managed to tell me that no, it still made absolutely no sense to her.  “It all seems designed to keep us women busy doing stupid things.”

A light knock sounded on the door then, and Esta walked in.  “What are you doing? It sounds like a party in here.”  She smiled and sat at the end of my bed.  Ever since she realized I wasn’t a threat to her time with Celia, and that we were both losing out to Ronan, we’d been on good footing.

I saw Celia shove the magazine under her pillow, and her face was red.  Clearly she didn’t want to talk about her sex life with Esta, knowing Esta would be vocal about her disapproval.

When neither of us responded, Esta crossed her arms over her chest.  “Fine, don’t tell me.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” said Celia.  “Anyway, I’m glad you came by.  Earlier, Mom told me she wants us to steer clear of this place until curfew, twelve tonight, so I thought we could hang out at your house after work.”

“Sure,” Esta said.

All three of us had the closing shift at Heidi’s.  “Why can’t we be here?”

“She’s having Bunco night here, and Dad told her he was having a few friends over, too.  She made him promise the men would stay outside, but I’m guessing they’ll come in and eat all the snacks she made for her party, then she’ll get mad, and they’ll huff around.  Anyway, none of us should be here.”

“What’s the plan for Abe?” I asked.

“Mom already made plans for him to stay at Jeremy’s.”

“Do you think Jeremy’s mom gets tired of always having Abe over with no reciprocation?  He’s never over here.”

Celia and Esta exchanged glances.

“What?  Tell me.”

“Jeremy’s parents don’t allow him to come over here,” Celia said, shrugging.  I’d noticed she shrugged every time she told me something about her family that made her uncomfortable.  “They like Abe, so they told him he could come over any time.”

“This is a pretty special community,” I said, and Celia beamed. I meant it, and thought of how Malcolm and his mother had both offered me similar hospitality.  I was glad the compliment made Celia happy, but I was especially glad it was true.

I stood between the rows of headstones at the end of the cemetery, hoping he’d see me far enough in advance that I wouldn’t startle him.  He did, and raised his hand in greeting.  It was his smile that did me in though.  It was the smile that rearranged his entire face, concealing nothing about his joy.  I admired that sort of openness, that ownership he had over his face.

After lunch, I’d decided I needed to get out of the house before work, and had wandered around town listening for the sound of lawn mowers.

When Malcolm got close to me, he turned the mower off and hopped down to the ground.  “Where’s Paul?” I asked.

He dropped his head down to his chest in mock sadness.  “You’re always wondering where Paul is.  Heartbreaking.”  He was on to our teasing.

I laughed.  “I didn’t see him when I walked over, and I hoped that meant we were alone.”

He brought his head back up and looked at me.  “Want to hang out when I’m done here?”  He looked out across the cemetery.  “I’d guess I have another hour or so, and then I’m done for the day.”

“I don’t want to wait an hour.  Can I ride along?”  His face rearranged itself again.  This time, surprise was in the mix.

“Heck yeah, you can ride along.  It might not be very comfortable, but let me see what I can do.”  He went to his truck and rummaged around behind the seat.  He came up with a blanket, which he laid on top of the fender beside the seat.  “There, that might make it a little better.”

He climbed back onto the mower, and offered his arm to me, to help me climb on.  I stared at it for a moment.  This was no ordinary arm.  This was not the arm of a father, or a friend.  The sleeve of his shirt was tight around his biceps.  His skin gleamed with sweat and was, as usual, decorated with grass clippings.

I put both hands around his arm, just above his elbow, and pulled myself up.  The feeling of his muscles under my palms and fingertips sent a spark of awareness on a journey through my body— from my hands down to my feet, and back up to rest in my belly.  I sat on the blanket, but didn’t let go yet.  I looked up at him and he looked back at me and I saw his jaw clench.

I gently squeezed his arm.  “So this is your arm.” I palpated it with my fingertips.

He laughed, and shook his head in amusement.  “Are you feeling me up?”

“I guess I am.  I must say, I like the way you feel.”  At that, he flexed his muscles and his arm went solid.  “Show off.”

He grinned and relaxed his muscles.  I reluctantly removed my hands.  “Well, start this baby up.  You’ve got work to do.”

Every now and then as we rode, I had to grab onto his arm, or some part of the mower, to keep from falling off.  I only had one-and-a-half butt cheeks’ worth of room to sit, and there was lots of turning involved in mowing a cemetery.  Our shoulders rubbed together, and it was sweaty, and one of the highlights of my life.

It was hard to talk over the sound of the mower, but we managed to shout a few things to each other.  “Do you daydream while you mow?” I asked, as he backed up to come at a headstone from a better angle.

“Sometimes.  Mostly I think about what I need to do next on whatever woodworking project I have going.”

“What are you working on right now?”

He looked at me with a small smile on his lips.  “It’s a surprise.”

“Is it something for me?”  The eagerness must have shown on my face, because he laughed.

“Yes, it’s something for you.”

“When will it be done?”

“I don’t know. It depends on how much time I get to work on it.  I’m kind of hoping it takes a while, because that will mean I’m spending my time doing other things.”

“Like mowing?”

“Mowing, if you’re riding along.”  He bumped his shoulder into mine, on purpose that time.

“If that was an invitation, then yes.  I could do this again.”

When he stopped the mower a while later, and I stepped off, it felt like my legs were still buzzing.

“What are you doing tonight?  Come with me somewhere,” Malcolm said.

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

“I have to work until ten.”

“What about after?”

“I told Celia and Esta I’d hang out with them.”

“I could join you.”

That wasn’t going to happen.  “I’ll be exhausted and smell like hamburgers.”

“I love hamburgers.”

I laughed.  “I don’t know.  Should we see each other so often?  You’ll get annoyed by me quicker.”

He laughed and shook his head at me.

“Or things could get intense,” I added.

“Things are already intense.”  He reached out his hand, strong and brown-as-a-bear, and used a finger to raise my face to his.

“Don’t kiss me yet,” I said, my voice caught in my throat.

“I just want to look at you.”

“I think you want to kiss me.”

“Well, I do.  But I know better.”  He searched my eyes, and I wondered what of me he could see in them.  For the first time in my life, I wanted to call a boy mine.  And it seemed like he wanted the same thing.  I was a bit startled by the smack of panic that hit me suddenly.