Текст книги "The Stillburrow Crush"

Автор книги: Linda Kage

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 12 страниц)

He stood slowly and I noticed his grace of movement. He was so beautiful. As a chilly gust of wind came up and stirred 144

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his hair and clothing, artistically ruffling his perfection, it seemed like he was meant to look exactly as he was. When he turned, I swallowed and held up a watermelon piece. He stared at it a moment before reaching out slowly and taking it from my fingers. My stomach curled as he lifted it to his mouth and took it between his teeth.

"Mmm," he said. "At least it still tastes sweet this time of year."

I tried my own sample bite, and while I chewed Luke led me to the tablecloth and we sat down. It was cold enough to make my teeth rattle, but they didn't because the temperature didn't bother me. In fact, a strange warmth had ignited in my stomach and was steadily working its way up my arms and down my legs. And the closer Luke settled himself next to me, the hotter it burned.

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145

The Stillburrow Crush

by Linda Kage

Chapter Eleven

We taste-tested the wine first. Luke held the bottle by the neck as he drank and I watched his throat work when he swallowed. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His blue eyes were bright as they met mine. Then he moved his hand from his face and sighed. After he handed the drink to me, he never took it back. I hadn't had more than one glass before. And when I told Luke this, he said I wouldn't get as sick if I drank slowly.

It was so nice being there with him. I forgot I'd been nervous, and I teased him about the way he sucked the juice out of his watermelon before eating it.

After we polished off the rest of our snack—which he just had to note was all "health" food—we delved into the fireworks. I realized I hadn't brought any form of fire. But Luke came up with the idea of using his car's cigarette lighter to light the bamboo punk I discovered mixed in with the fireworks.

We set off the jumping jacks first. They made little sparks of light and sounded like crackling pops in the night. Then we worked our way through the sparklers. I tried to spell my name but Luke started to use his as a sword and we ended up having a jousting match instead—a short one because the sparklers stayed lit for only so long.

Next we set off bottle rockets. We'd toss them in the air right before they took off. Luke had better aim than I did because mine would dive right into the grass before popping. 146

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His always managed to fly up and explode into a short volley of crackles, briefly lighting the night.

We collapsed on the tablecloth when every last firework had been set off. I was surprised there'd only been a few duds in the old pack. Almost everything had exploded with a satisfying report.

I sat huddled in my coat, shivering, my teeth chattering uncontrollably.

From his corner of the blanket, Luke glanced up. "Cold?" I sent him a get-real look. "Nope. I'm nice and toasty." He sighed. "You really can't control that smart mouth, can you?"

"Would you rather I had a stupid mouth?" I watched him as I tilted the bottle up and took a long drink. When I was done, I started to shiver again.

"Come here," Luke said.

I scooted away and gave him an uneasy look. He rolled his eyes. "Are you telling me you can invite me out here to the middle of nowhere all alone in the dark of the night, but you're too chicken to sit next to me and share a little body heat?"

I stared at the headlights of his car, wondering how much longer they could stay on before the battery went dead. I trembled again and used my numbed fingers to wipe the hair out of my eyes. "It's not the middle of nowhere," I said.

"We're not that far from town."

Luke took two handfuls of my coat and yanked me across the blanket toward him. His voice nearly growled as he said,

"Get over here before you freeze to death." 147

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"What a polite invitation," I said, trying not to fall into him as he threw off my balance.

But he ignored my sarcasm. "Geez," he said, rubbing my coat between his fingers. "This thing's paper thin."

"That's because I can't afford something decent," I said sarcastically, a little put off that he'd made fun of my favorite jacket.

"Well, being the rich guy I am, I can," Luke shot back and pulled open his coat to wrap it around us both. He propped my back against his chest and cradled me in a warm embrace. Then pulling the edge of the tablecloth over our laps, he cuddled in close. I held in a dreamy sigh and looked up at the stars while resting my head back against him. The breeze froze my toes and the ground was hard under me but I was toasty everywhere else.

Luke tried to give me another drink of the wine, but some spilled out and leaked down my chin. He wiped the juice away with his thumb. His warm breath was at my ear and his lips were close to my jaw when he murmured, "Thank you for tonight."

I felt his hand in my hair then, working the clasp from my ponytail. "Be careful," I said, closing my eyes. "If you get too close, you might slip and fall for me." I'm not sure why I said it. I was trying to joke, but it wasn't so funny. Luke pulled my hair the rest of the way free. Fingers skimmed over my cheek and then against my scalp. It felt like I was sitting with my back to a campfire, he was so warm.

"Maybe I already have," he said. 148

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My mouth fell open. I jerked away and twisted my body around to face him. "No, you haven't." I made it sound more like a demand than a denial.

Luke sat up and the red-and-white-checkered patterns slid off his knee. He demanded right back, "Why can't I?" I dug a finger into my chest. "Because I'm the one with the crush on you. You can't get one on me!" Luke paused. "I thought you said you didn't have one for me anymore." He said it carefully, as if he wanted me to understand each syllable.

"Well, I lied."

"Well, good." His voice rose to match mine. "We like each other. So let's go steady."

"No," I said, my body instantly tightening. Luke wanted to be my boyfriend. I couldn't believe it. He actually wanted to be with me. I frowned. Had I just told him no?

In the gleam of his Mustang headlights, I watched his teeth clench. "Hey, you started this," he accused. "I was ready to leave you alone, but you called me. You asked me out here."

I glanced away. "I just wanted a Fourth of July poem," I said. I wanted to remind him I wasn't good enough for him, so he should quit teasing me like this.

"You're still lying, aren't you?" he said. When I spun to glare at him, he shook his head sadly. "I don't know what you're scared of, Carrie. Maybe it's the same thing I am. This isn't easy for me, either. I've never—" He broke off suddenly to run his hands through his hair. 149

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I didn't pressure him to go on because he was right. I was scared. I was petrified of letting him get too close. I wound my arms around myself and rocked a little, realizing I was a fool.

Luke said, "You'll change your mind." And then as if someone turned on a light from night to day, his demeanor changed. Suddenly very abrupt and distant, he stood up and wiped his pants. "It's getting cold." My arms only tightened their hold. "It was always cold."

"I should get you home. What time is it?"

"I don't know. Does it matter?"

"No. You're right. It doesn't matter. Let's get in the car." He reached down to help me to my feet. I hadn't realized how much I'd drunk until I stood and it all rushed to my head. I swayed a little and Luke caught me to him. "Time to get the drunkard home," he said, and pitched the rest of the bottle toward the ditch.

"You're littering," I told him. And when he started to lead me to the car, I said, "And I'm not drunk. I'm just dizzy. Stood up too fast."

He insisted I was definitely buzzed. But I didn't care. I was in love. I was in love with Luke Carter. I wasn't wasted enough to blab that out to him but I was pleasantly buzzed to the point where everything felt intense. As did the pain. I couldn't believe myself. Here he was, spilling his heart out at my feet, and I said no. Not only did I say no, I refused to take it back and tell him I really didn't mean no. Luke patiently helped me into the passenger's seat but when he tried to put my seatbelt on, I swatted his fingers 150

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away and told him I could do that myself. He raised his hands in surrender and backed off to let me finish belting myself in. The ride home took forever. I think he drove slowly on purpose. It wasn't because he was buzzed too. He'd only taken that one sip. So maybe it was because he wanted to stretch his time with me.

I was purposely quiet. If I spoke, I thought I might say something I would regret—something like, "Yes, I'll go out with you." I had this image in my head of doing exactly that, of flinging my arms around him and saying, "Yes, darling, I'm yours." And that's when he'd push me away and start laughing. "Gotcha!" he'd say. And it would be spread around as a big joke that Luke Carter had made a complete fool of Carrie Paxton.

That had to be the case because there was no way Luke could like me just because I was me. It went against all the rules of social order in Stillburrow.

I must've dozed off thinking through the whole scenario because when Luke pulled up to the curb by my house, I was already half asleep. I yawned.

"Do you want me to walk you up?" he asked. I opened my eyes and looked toward my home. My front walkway loomed before me. The house had never seemed so far from the curb as it did then. "No. I'll be fine."

"What're you going to tell your parents if they smell the wine on you?"

"I'll tell them you spilled it on me," I said, cracking a smile.

"Oh, that's great. Let your mom and dad think I'm some kind of alcoholic. They'd never let me see you again." 151

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I stared at the dark windows of my house. I repeated the words never let me see you again over and over through my head. But they just didn't sound real.

"I don't think I have to worry about it," I said. "Looks like they're already asleep, anyway."

Luke shook his head, though. "They just want you to think that. My mom always catches me sneaking in too late by hiding out in the dark."

I glanced over at him and cocked an eyebrow. "Do you sneak in late a lot, Mr. Carter?"

He cleared his throat and refused to incriminate himself.

"Let me walk you up," he said.

I flung open my door. "I can walk perfectly fine, thank you." I slurred the words a little as I set one foot outside, intending to show him just how capable I was. But he caught my arm.

"Wait." I glanced back to see him lean toward me. "Aren't you going to say goodbye?"

"Bye," I answered.

His lips curved. His hand moved down until it captured my fingers. He tugged me closer to him.

"Good night, Carrie Paxton," he said, barely moving. "Have sweet dreams about me."

"Actually, I'm thinking about dreaming of roller coasters. It feels like I'm on one."

Luke laughed and kissed me. It wasn't like our first kiss. This one was rougher. He yanked me to him and mashed his mouth to mine. And he didn't wait long before he let his tongue plunder. His fingers tightened their grip. 152

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As dizzy as I already was, he threw me completely off balance. I reached up and cupped his cheek to steady myself. The stubble under my fingers shocked and delighted me. This was a man. I was kissing a man. I felt so grown up and mature.

This kiss was hotter and longer than the first one, and Luke pulled away before I did. When he did, he had a smug smile on his face. He rested his forehead against mine. I closed my eyes and his fingers found my hair. "Come eat at my house tomorrow," he said. His voice was quiet and coaxing and I almost said yes. And then I realized...

"But tomorrow's Thanksgiving." I opened my eyes and pulled back to look at him.

"I know."

"I always have a big get-together with my family at Aunt Kay's house."

"Then stop by and see me afterward. It's just across the street."

I shook my head. The truth was I was scared to death of meeting his parents. I knew who Mr. and Mrs. Carter were. But I'd never talked to them face to face. I remembered when I was little and I'd sit outside the bank president's office next to Mom while I watched my father go inside and shake Mr. Carter's hand. But that was about as close as I'd ever gotten to the man. I think Luke knew about my fear of his parents but he didn't bring it up. And I was glad he didn't force the issue.

Instead, he sighed. "Fine." He let each lock of my hair slip one by one from his fingers. "I'll let you go for now, then." He 153

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sounded wistful, like he already missed me. I thought it was possible only because I already missed him. "Goodnight, Carrie."

"Goodnight," I slurred back, right before I slipped out of the car and stumbled my way up the front walk. Luke didn't drive off until he saw me open the door. I moved inside, smelling of wine and burnt sulfur from the fireworks. The house was dark and silent. My over-trusting parents were asleep in their beds and I was a changed person. I'd just given a part of my soul away to Luke Carter, whether he knew or wanted it, or not.

When Thanksgiving Day came, I missed him. I was tempted to show up at his house, but I still had that fear of meeting his parents and that they'd instantly realize I wasn't good enough to date their son.

So I went with my mom and dad to the house across the street. Jordan was there, and she talked and talked to me about all the different boyfriends she had back at her school in Paulbrook. I was startled to learn she was doing things I'd just now experienced with Luke. I wanted to say, "But you're only twelve." I'm sure though, if I'd told my story to someone older, they'd have said, "But you're only sixteen." And that was the last thing I wanted to hear. So I kept quiet and only listened to Jordan's tales.

Marty actually showed up but he was late. We'd already cut into the turkey and Aunt Kay had said the prayer. I knew instantly something was wrong with him when he stumbled in. The first thing I did was sniff his shirt to see if he'd been 154

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drinking but he passed that test. All I could smell on him was the grocery store.

He glared at me when I leaned in and I quietly said,

"What's wrong with you?"

"I've got to spend the afternoon with you," he said. But he didn't have that mischievous grin he usually did when he said such things.

His clothes were rumpled like he'd slept in them. Yeah, I know, I know. He wasn't living at home anymore so there was no reason his clothes should be starched and ironed. He looked terrible, though. Maybe if he'd had his shirt tucked in and his hair combed, I might not have noticed. But the flicker in his eyes was...well, I couldn't explain it. I'd never seen Marty look this way before. He seemed drained and exhausted yet edgy and on alert. It was like he'd just beaten off an attacker but was braced for another assault.

"Are you on drugs?" I hissed in his ear. He put his hand on my forehead and pushed me away. I took that as a no.

I'm not sure if anyone else noticed. They were so tickled to have him in their company again, they overlooked any problems. Mom stayed by his side throughout the meal and told him everything that'd been happening in the house since he'd been gone. Dad didn't say much. But his, "It's good to see you, son," revealed his pleasure. The entire lunch felt phony. Everyone except Marty and me plastered on fake smiles and passed pasta around, making jokes about how the turkey would turn out this year. 155

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Mom asked if she could refill Marty's glass with iced tea. When he lowered his head and said he was fine, she poured anyway and kept talking to him like he was interested. When she got into gossiping about Luke spending two evenings at our house, Marty's head shot up and he nailed me with an intense look. I wasn't sure what the warning in his gaze meant, but I met it and stared back at him, lifting an eyebrow and daring him to say something about my love life. Finally, he glanced away. Mom had already started in about our neighbors across the street getting their driveway paved. When we went home, Marty came with us. For some reason, he'd walked to Aunt Kay's for Thanksgiving dinner. I don't know, maybe he just needed a good walk to clear his head. All I knew was he came home with us. Jordan, Uncle Stan, and Aunt Kay waved us off and Marty sat in the back seat next to me for the short ride. It surprised me at first that he'd said OK to Mom's invitation to supper. He rested his head against the window and stared out as Mom chattered away in the front seat. I was sure something bad was going on with him then.

Marty waited half an hour after we made it home before he dropped the bomb. Since I already knew something was up, I'd been hanging around the living room to get in on the action when things went down. Marty was sitting in the middle of the sofa, not leaning back but with his back straight like some kind of guest. Mom had situated herself next to him. Dad was relaxing in his recliner with the footrest kicked up, and I lay sprawled on the loveseat, letting my feet dangle over the armrest.

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"Mom, Dad," Marty said, taking in a deep breath, "I need to tell you something."

I stopped swinging my foot, knowing this was it. Mom took his hand and smiled. "What is it, honey?" He licked dry lips and stared down at the floor. He nodded his head a little as if giving himself a mental pep talk before speaking. Then he said, "Abby's pregnant." My feet hit the carpet floor and I sat up just as Mom covered a gasp with her hands. "Oh! Oh no," she moaned.

"Who's Abby?" Dad said.

Mom's eyes flashed to his. "Dean," she hissed. "I told you Martin was seeing Abby Eggrow."

Dad scratched his chin then, as if his beard was itching. Slowly, he lowered the footrest of his chair. When he was in the upright position, he calmly folded his hands in his lap and eyed Marty critically. "Eggrow?" At Marty's nod, he continued.

"She any relation to the principal?"

"She's his daughter," Marty said quietly. Dad nodded thoughtfully, as if letting that soak in. "Does he know?"

"She said she was going to tell her family today." Mom started to weep into her hands. She looked frail as she leaned away from Marty. I sank further into the loveseat, hoping it would swallow me whole, and suddenly, I couldn't breathe. It felt as if an anvil had been laid on my chest. My brother had gotten a girl pregnant.

Dad stood and patted Mom on the back.

But she pushed his hand away. "Don't touch me." 157

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"Now, Andrea." He sat next to her. "Just calm down. It's not that bad. Think about it on the bright side. We're going to be grandparents."

"No," she cried out and jumped to her feet. I think she startled everyone in the room because we all gawked at her. She glared at Marty. "How could you do this? How could you do this to such a nice girl like Abby Eggrow? How could you do this to me?"

Marty said nothing. What could he say? He lowered his head.

Mom wiped at the tears that were flooding her cheeks. "Do you not think at all, Martin? What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't," he said.

Dad had to turn his back to them as Mom laid into Marty. I cradled my stomach and tried not to cry.

When the front doorbell rang, I jumped. Mom immediately wiped her eyes and turned away. Marty buried his face in his hands. My head swerved around to gawk at the door. Only Dad had the presence of mind to stride to the entrance and answer the bell. I was certain it would be some Eggrow, either Mr. or Mrs., here to beat Marty to a pulp, or maybe it was Abby herself, running to Marty for support. I had no thought the caller would be for me. So when Luke filled the open doorway, I jumped to my feet and let out a gasp. My heart sank as my father's voice echoed back to me.

"Not tonight, Luke. Carrie can't see you right now." Luke glanced past him, right at me, saw my pale face and then looked over to Marty and Mom. He took a step back and nodded to Dad. Then he sent one last look my way before 158

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Dad shut the door in his face. When my father turned back to the family, his eyes slid accusingly toward me. I noticed then that Mom and Marty were also glaring at me like I was the guilty party here. I clenched my jaw and said nothing. The silence was oppressive. I slid back down onto the loveseat. Finally, Dad turned to Marty. "Well, what're you going to do about all of this?"

Mom huffed out an angry sound and started in again, but Dad finally had control. "Andrea," he said in warning. "That's enough. What's done is done. We've got to see about fixing it as best we can now."

Mom glared at him, then spun away and left the room. Marty jumped when she slammed her bedroom door. He scrubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

"I don't know what to do, Dad," he said, so quietly I was afraid I'd misheard him at first.

But Dad came and sat next to him. "I wish I could tell you. I wish I could fix this for you, but you're a man now, Martin. And you've got to make a decision your mom and I can't make for you." Dad blew out a breath. "There comes a time in a person's life when they have to make a choice and there is no easy solution—when either option means a big change." Marty glanced up at him and nodded. "I guess you're right. I've got to do this by myself." He ran the back of his hand across his nose and sniffed. Then he set his palms on his knees and rose to his feet. "I think I need to talk to Abby and get everything straightened out."

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Dad laid a supporting hand on Marty's back. "I'll tell you one thing. You're a Paxton. You're my son. And I'm confident you'll do the right thing. I'll support you any way I can."

"Thanks, Dad," Marty told him and held out his hand. "I'm glad you didn't lose it like Mom did. I really needed to hear a reasonable voice right now."

Dad nodded and walked him to the door. He handed Marty his coat. "Don't worry about your mother. After the shock wears off, she'll be better." When Marty only lowered his head, Dad patted him on the back and opened the door.

"She'll come around. Before you know it, she'll be buying baby toys by the carload."

Marty lifted his face and gave Dad a half smile that said he wanted to believe him but couldn't. My brother glanced briefly at me and then left.

Dad shut the door behind him, but didn't lower his hand. He stared at his fingers on the doorknob for a while. Then he dropped them and sighed. When he turned, he saw me still hovering on the loveseat. He paused.

It was only five in the evening, but he said, "Go to bed, Carrie."

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