Chapter Four
When I was twelve, my normally unflappable mother stuttered and stammered her way through a rather muddled explanation of the facts of life, then shoved a book called Becoming a Woman into my hand and ran. By then, of course, Jenna and I had pretty much figured out the basics, thanks to a couple of dogs and a lot of gossip from the other girls in school.
My family kept a close eye on me for a few days after Mama gave me “the talk”, waiting to see if I’d been traumatized beyond repair. Personally, I think the only one traumatized was Mama. Every time I’d look at her she’d turn beet-red.
Sex was a four-letter word in our family. When its use was required, it was always spelled, as if actually saying it would bring down the fiery wrath of God on our heads.
The age of free love might have come and gone in the rest of the world, but in Morganville girls who got pregnant without the benefit of matrimony were still talked about in whispers, behind shielding hands.
Even the women’s liberation movement was viewed as a rather puzzling oddity by our female population. They had always thought they were partners, not slaves, and to them a glass ceiling was just something that was apt to break in a hailstorm. It was the combined goal of all our women to see their daughters happily married to a Good Man, raising a houseful of kids. A career to them was working as a volunteer at the library or hospital, or at the local five-and-dime in the makeup department for minimum wage.
And because no one around me paid much attention to those things, I didn’t either.
My main concern was my body. As usual, Jenna had beaten me to the punch yet again, starting her periods when we were twelve. I had to wait another whole year and I was beginning to wonder if something was wrong with me. With every twinge or unusual sensation I’d run to the bathroom, hope warring with anxiety.
The year I turned thirteen was a momentous one for me in more ways than one. My body finally started to change, hard painful knots forming on my chest, and hair sprouting in places it had never been before. Mama took me shopping for my first training bras, and my monthlies started, which thrilled me for all of two months, and then I was sick of them. My hairstyle went from pigtails in fourth grade, to a ponytail in fifth, then to a braid in sixth. By ninth grade I was leaving it loose to hang down my back.
Mama wasn’t Mama anymore, she was Mother, usually followed by a “pallease!” when she wanted me to do something I considered beneath me. Like wear a frilly dress instead of my strategically torn, stone-washed, designer blue jeans.
That was also the year I discovered Boys. Or maybe I should say they discovered me. By then I knew what they wanted and I wasn’t buying it, although I will admit I 36
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was flattered by the attention and not above a little flirting. After all, I was southern, and southern woman are selectively bred for their ability to flirt. How else were we going to catch us a man and raise us a brood of kids?
The bane of my existence was that Nick didn’t seem to notice all the changes I’d undergone. He still treated me the same way he had when I was eight, with casual warmth and humor. But I sure noted the changes in him.
At fifteen, he was nearly six feet tall. His voice had deepened into a rich baritone that did funny things to my stomach and made my heart race. His body, while still slim, had grown some muscular bulges that I couldn’t help but admire. And I wasn’t the only one. If boys had discovered me, girls thought they’d hit the jackpot with Nick. The fact that he was Frank Anderson’s son and a lone wolf only increased their interest, added a bit of danger to the mix. They didn’t view him as marriage material, but his looks made him desirable as a trophy.
I’d been forced to watch during the last school year while they strutted by his position on the steps, tossing their hair and sending inviting smiles his way. His expression remained stoic, but I saw the way his eyes moved over them and I wanted to yank out their hair, one fistful at a time. Strange, but I was never jealous of Lindsey, even though she’d filled out nicely, too. Maybe because I was used to seeing them together, and she was so quiet that I simply forgot she was there.
When my friends talked for hours about hunky rock stars, I smiled but didn’t participate. There was only one boy I wanted, and I lived for the times when I could be alone with him. It was simple. When I was with Nick, I was happy. When I wasn’t, I was restless and miserable. I became adept at finding excuses to touch him. A hand on his arm, innocently brushing a strand of hair away from his face, legs touching as we sat side by side.
He did nothing to encourage these feelings except be himself. For me, that was enough. But the biggest reaction I’d ever gotten out of him was a puzzled frown directed at the boys flirting with me, like he couldn’t figure out what all the fuss was about.
That was also the year my Uncle Vern moved back, looking tired and old, the traumatized survivor of a messy divorce, and brought his twin sons, Casey and Cody, with him. There were only two weeks of school left when I came home one afternoon and found these three strangers in our living room. I smiled politely while I was introduced and tried not to notice that my newly found, seventeen-year-old cousins were staring at me like I was some species of alien that had suddenly appeared in their garden. Sort of shocked, curious, and eager, all at the same time.
Both boys had a more masculine version of our family looks. Dark hair, blue-green eyes, medium height. Their northern accents sounded funny to my ears, sharp and staccato, and I felt a bit overwhelmed by so many males in my predominantly female household. But my family was ecstatic to have them back. Even Aunt Darla was excited now that my uncle had come to his senses and rid himself of “that woman”. The noise level in the house was giving me a headache and I’d smiled until the muscles around 37
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my mouth hurt by the time we’d finished supper. At the first opportunity I slipped out the back door into the warm spring night.
I was surprised to see a light in the shed since I hadn’t been expecting Nick that night. He and the Judge had long since finished restoring the Chevy. It sat in the garage, covered by a tarp which protected the beige and brick-colored paint job. The Judge only drove it on special occasions, like the day he’d taken Nick to get his learner’s permit.
He’d been offered a small fortune for the car, but he always refused to sell.
Thrilled that I was going to see Nick tonight, I stopped in the shed door, my gaze going from him to the mangled Ford pickup that occupied the spot where the Chevy had once sat.
Nick grinned when he saw me. “What do you think of my truck?”
“I think you need to jack it up and run another one under it.” The truck was in horrible shape, one door completely gone and the other bashed in. Jagged pieces of metal curled up around the fenders. It was impossible to tell what color it had once been. Now it was just rusty.
“Where did you get it?” I leaned beside him and peered under the hood, making sure my arm rested against his.
“Someone brought it to the salvage yard last week. It’s not as bad as it looks. The motor is in pretty good condition and the body can be fixed. The Judge said if I’d bring it over, he’d help me work on it. I’d like to get it finished before I get my license.”
“Are you going to take me to the Star-Vu to see a movie when you do?” The Star-Vu was our local drive-in. On the weekends it was taken over by teenagers, being one of the few places in town to take a date.
“Sure thing, Peewee.” He slid a finger playfully down my nose, then glanced toward the house as a burst of laughter reached us. “Sounds like they’re having a party.”
“I guess they are, kind of. My Uncle Vern is back, and he brought his sons with him. They’ll be seniors when school starts in the fall.” Nick frowned. “Are they going to move in with you?” He wasn’t comfortable around other males, except for the Judge, and I realized he was afraid he’d have to stop coming over so often. I hurried to reassure him.
“No. Uncle Vern already has a job at the Morgan’s lumber mill, and he rented that small house of Mrs. Thompson’s on the edge of town. They’ll only stay here until it’s ready to live in, a few nights at most.”
“So why aren’t you in there celebrating?” He leaned back over the motor and removed the air filter.
“They were giving me a headache.”
“You don’t like them?”
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I shrugged. “That’s just it. I don’t know them well enough to decide, but everyone expects me to treat them like I’ve known them forever. And the boys keep looking at me funny.”
He straightened, his gaze piercing as he stared at me. “Funny how?”
“I don’t know, just funny. It makes me uncomfortable.”
“Stay away from them,” he growled. “Don’t let them get you alone.”
“Why not?” Maybe I was older, but my curiosity was still intact.
He looked away before he answered me. “Because they’re guys and you’re a girl, and you said yourself you don’t know them.”
Hallelujah! He’d noticed I was a girl! I was gloating over that when what he’d said sank in. Nervously, I chewed my bottom lip. “They’re my cousins, Nick. You don’t really think they’d…well, you know, hurt me, do you?”
“Trust your instincts. If those guys make you uncomfortable, there’s a reason.” A shiver ran over me. What if he was right? At least I knew Nick had my best interests at heart, and I wasn’t too sure about my new relatives. “Okay.” A sound from the front of the shed had both of us turning in that direction as my cousins came to an abrupt stop, identical expressions of surprise on their faces when they saw Nick.
The boys eyed each other warily while I stammered my way through the introductions. Although he was two years younger, Nick was three inches taller than Casey and Cody, and he didn’t look like the kind of person you wanted to mess with. I was extremely glad he was there.
“Are you Alix’s boyfriend?”
Casey was the one who asked. They were identical twins, but I’d discovered that Casey had a small scar nearly hidden in his eyebrow that Cody lacked.
Nick hesitated and glanced down at me. “You could say that.” It was all I could do to keep from gaping at him. Lord, I wished I had a tape recorder in my pocket, because by tomorrow I’d be doubting my own ears. He gave me a half-smile, then looked back at Casey.
“You got a problem with it?”
Casey held up a hand. “No skin off my nose. She’s all yours.” The twins didn’t stay long after that. As soon as I was sure they were gone, I turned on Nick. “You lied.” I was standing with my feet apart, hands on my hips.
His gaze ran over me and to my absolute shock, his face turned red. “Not exactly.”
“You told them I was your girlfriend.”
As though he couldn’t help himself, his eyes wandered over my body yet again, like he was really seeing me for the first time. “Well, you are a girl, and we are friends.” He cleared his throat. “Besides, your feelings were right about them. Now that they think you have a boyfriend they’ll leave you alone.”
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“Oh.” All the wind went out of my sails and disappointment left a hollow place in my chest as he picked up a wrench and went back to work on the truck motor.
“You’re not old enough to have a real boyfriend,” he muttered.
I stiffened. “If I’m old enough to have babies, then I’m damn well old enough to have a boyfriend,” I ground out. “And just as soon as I decide on who it’s going to be, I’ll let you know so you can stop lying to people.” The wrench he was holding hit the engine with a stunned clang, but I wasn’t waiting around to hear what he had to say about my pronouncement. I ran all the way back to the house, up the stairs, and into my room, locking the door behind me. It was two days before I deigned to talk to him again, or even acknowledge his existence, but I did notice he was paying more attention to the boys who flocked around me, and he wasn’t frowning anymore. He was downright scowling. But the real problems didn’t start until a month after school was out for the summer.
For once, I was home alone, something that didn’t happen often in a family like mine. The Judge had gone to some kind of civic meeting, Aunt Darla was at the Children’s Home, and Mother and Aunt Jane were grocery shopping, something I hated and avoided whenever possible. I’d finished my chores, then read for a while, but I was too restless to sit still for long.
Grabbing a soda from the fridge, I went outside to sit on my swing. The seat had been replaced a few times over the years, and I knew I was too old for it now, but I couldn’t bring myself to give it up yet.
The heat outside was miserable, the humidity so high it was like breathing underwater. Not a breath of air stirred the leaves on the tree above, and for once, the robins weren’t fighting over nesting space. There wasn’t a sound anywhere, I realized abruptly.
I lifted my gaze to the line of thick black clouds rolling in from the southwest. I’ve never been afraid of storms, but when you live in an area prone to tornados, you learn to respect them. You also learn the warning signs pretty early in life, and this one looked like it was going to be bad. Maybe it would be smart to check the local TV
station and see if any warnings had been issued.
Before I could suit action to thought, Nick captured my attention. He’d stepped out of the woods behind the barn and was heading in my direction, pausing now and then to look up. I went to meet him and we converged at the corner of the yard, both of us staring at the sky like two old farmers anxious for their crops.
“What do you think?” I asked him. The world around us was turning a sickly green color and the wind was picking up.
“It doesn’t look good. Where’s your family?”
We watched a streak of neon purple lightning flash across the sky while my nervousness increased. “They aren’t here. I’m getting worried, Nick.”
“Come on. Let’s head for the cellar.” He put his hand on my back and herded me toward our concrete hole in the ground.
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“But what if they don’t make it home in time?”
“There’s nothing we can do about it, and they would want you out of danger.” He lifted the metal lid and laid it back against the ground, then descended the steps. There was the scrape of a match and the dim glow of the hurricane lamp filled the cellar before he rejoined me.
Together, we stood and watched the clouds roll and tumble across the sky. The wind began to howl, nearly lifting me off my feet with its violence, and the thunder was a constant, angry rumble, low and menacing. I was wiping the first splatter of rain off my arm when I saw the slender tail drop down, form a funnel and stretch toward the ground.
“Oh, my God,” I whispered.
Nick’s head whipped around and the next thing I knew, his arm was around my waist and he was dragging me down the stairs. The cellar door slammed shut and he shot the lock into place with a frantic push.
“Down in the corner! Hurry!”
We had both grown up hearing stories about twisters driving two-by-fours through concrete cellar walls, so I obeyed automatically. Nick crouched beside me, his arms wrapping around me protectively. I had always sworn that if I were ever interviewed on TV after a storm, I would not be one of those people who say things like, “It sounded just like a freight train running through my house.” But now I knew why they said it.
There wasn’t another way to describe the sound that came anywhere close to what I was hearing. It seemed to go on forever, getting louder and louder with every second that passed. When the cellar door started banging and shimmying in its frame, I screamed and did my level best to crawl inside Nick.
He was holding me so tightly that, if I hadn’t been scared out of my mind, I’d have worried about my ribs.
“It’s okay,” he murmured in my ear. “You’re gonna be alright. It’s almost over.” But I could feel him trembling against me.
The metal door stopped its dancing and settled back into place, and the noise faded away into the distance.
I raised my head and looked up at him, not quite ready to believe the nightmare had ended and we were still alive. He wiped my tear-damp cheek with his thumb.
“It’s okay,” he whispered again. An odd look lingered in his gray eyes as he gazed down at me, but I didn’t know he was going to kiss me until his lips touched mine.
I’d never been kissed before, and I doubted Nick had ever kissed anyone. At first, it was hesitant and clumsy, eager and endearing. It was a spontaneous reaction to our brush with danger, and while neither of us was experienced, we had instinct on our side.
My arms slid up until they curved around his neck, and when I felt his tongue touch my lips, it never occurred to me to resist. This was Nick. My Nick. A low, 41
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agonized sound came from somewhere deep inside him as I returned the kiss, and his hand moved over my back, under my shirt.
I don’t know how long it lasted. It could have been hours and still not been enough to suit me. But suddenly he went still.
“No.”
The word ripped from his throat with more pain than I’d ever heard from someone his age, and I found myself alone on the cold, damp floor. Confused, my senses spinning from so many different emotions in such a short space of time, I clambered to my feet.
“Nick?”
He didn’t answer me. He was fumbling desperately with the lock on the door.
When it finally opened, he bolted. By the time I stepped outside, he was vanishing into the woods. He’d left me all alone, something the Nick I knew would never have done under circumstances such as these.
Upset, uneasy, and scared all over again, I turned on my shaky legs to look around me. The house still stood, but the windows were shattered and bare patches of plywood showed through missing shingles. Debris littered the yard; downed tree limbs, rocks, and some boards that looked as if they might have come from the front wall of the barn, were nearly covered by a million leaves. And the tree that had held my swing was gone, the twisted remains of its stump lying beside a huge gaping hole, roots exposed like skeletal arms unearthed from the grave. The rain fell in a fine mist now, and in the west the sun was already breaking through the clouds.
I stood there, frozen with shock, as Mama’s car peeled into the driveway on two wheels, followed hard by the Judge’s truck, then Aunt Darla’s sedan. I was passed around and hugged and fussed over until neighbors started to arrive and everyone went to check out the damage. The general consensus was that we were lucky the tornado had never reached the ground. It had only hovered in the air above the farm before being sucked back into the clouds.
Someone noticed I was shaking and a blanket was located and draped around my shoulders. Bobby Donovan, a local contractor and our nearest neighbor, had been one of the first on the scene. He was busily writing up repair estimates, conferring occasionally with Pete Townsend, our insurance agent, until they reached a mutually satisfying dollar amount, and Pete wrote the Judge a check. The repair work would start first thing in the morning.
But no amount of repair was going to fix the hollow feeling inside me. Something was desperately wrong for Nick to abandon me the way he had, and I was afraid of what he’d say the next time I saw him. I didn’t know it would be two weeks before he set foot on the farm again, or that he’d ignore me so completely when he finally did. It was as though I’d ceased to exist for him, and nothing in my life had ever hurt me as much as that did.
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June faded into the hottest July on record. The windows in the house were replaced, the roof reshingled, and new carpets were put down to replace the water-soaked ones.
The hole where the sweet gum tree had been was filled in and smoothed over, and grass was already growing over the scar. The Judge even made me a new swing in another tree, but it was never the same and I only used it enough to keep from hurting his feelings.
Nick started using his room in the barn again, but he waited until all the lights were out in the house before he’d show up. The first time I slipped out to talk to him I found the door locked, and he wouldn’t answer me when I called to him.
It was right after that painful discovery when I began keeping a journal.
Somewhere in my mind, I thought that if I got the entire thing down on paper, maybe I could figure out what I’d done wrong and fix it so Nick would talk to me again. But I’d filled half the leather-bound notebook and was no closer to understanding than I’d been when I started.
I was miserable. My whole world had been turned upside down and a huge chunk torn out of it. Weepy and depressed, I pushed my hair behind my ear and stared down at the journal pages lying on the kitchen table.
“I bought some of those cookies you like,” my mother said. She was standing at the kitchen sink, hands buried in suds as she washed the lunch dishes.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’re never hungry anymore. If you don’t start eating, you’ll dry up and blow away.”
I could feel her gaze on me when I didn’t answer.
“Did you and Nick have a fight?”
“No.”
“Then what’s going on? He never comes to the house anymore, and you’re acting like someone kicked your favorite cat.”
“I don’t know, Mama. Why don’t you ask Nick?” And if she got an answer, I hoped she’d share it with me. I glanced out the back door in time to see him disappear into the shed. Every part of me surged with the longing to join him, make him talk to me, but I knew at the first sight of me he’d leave. The only time he tolerated my presence in the shed these days was when the Judge was helping him, and even then he acted like I wasn’t there.
“I’m going to my room.” I closed the journal and went upstairs, determined not to cry again. It would only make Mama give me the third degree and there was nothing I could tell her.
And so it continued for the rest of the summer. It was worse than the week before midterms in fourth grade. At least I’d known that week would end when Mooney killed me. Now I had no hope at all. Nick hated me and he didn’t show any signs of getting over it in the near future.
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It was almost time for school to start when the entire thing came to a head. The resulting emotional explosion came damn near to making both Nick and me casualties of my stupidity. But something had to give. I just didn’t know it was going to be me.
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