As darkness fell, the clear skies reflected in the river. I maneuvered away from the crowd. My ears were ringing, and my head ached a little. As I stood at the riverbank under the arching branches of a large oak, I was buffered from the worst of the noise, the blasting music, and the smells of alcohol and smoke.
I watched the river flow by in the night. The river water, even in daylight, was dark like Cub Creek, but otherwise, it was very different. The South Anna River wasn’t as wide or graceful as the James River but much wider and more forceful than Cub Creek. Yet the difference was more than that. I tried to imagine this river flowing through the Hollow and decided I wouldn’t want it. It was powerful and beautiful, but it was too accessible. It wasn’t private. It would be too hard to shut out the world.
“Join us,” Spencer said. He handed me a bottle.
“Where’d you go? I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“I had to help get things set up. It’s my fault, though. I should have smarter friends.” He laughed. “That’s a joke, you know.”
I held the bottle but did no more than that. Spencer touched my arm and got bolder and put his arm around my back.
“I’m sorry, Hannah. I should’ve told them to fix things themselves.” He touched my hair. “Listen, if this isn’t what you want . . . If you want to leave, just say the word. I’m with you either way, stay or go.”
I believed him. “No, this is OK. It’s . . . loud.”
He laughed again. “Yes, it is. Look, if you’re willing to stay, then I’m glad because I’m kind of one of the hosts, and it would be rude to leave, but I will, I mean it.” He tapped the bottle. “Take a drink and come over by the fire. Relax and have fun.”
I took a sip and grimaced. Spencer laughed again and pulled me closer. I leaned against him, and we turned away from the river and joined the group.
In the end, the party was a blast. Gran was awake in bed when I came in. She did some pronounced sniffing when I came near, and she might have picked up on the beer because displeasure showed in her face, but she only said, “Did you have a good time?”
“I did.” As I told her good night and bent to kiss her cheek, I was grateful that the heavier smoke from the fire pit probably disguised the worst of the alcohol smell, or else I would likely have gotten a lecture.
“They treated you right, Hannah? The boy and his friends?”
“Yes, ma’am, they did.” In fact, I hadn’t felt the class division I’d experienced in high school, and here we were, barely out of school. Had we grown beyond the artificial social boundaries of that brick building so quickly, or had I imagined they existed? More likely, my welcome was no more than a temporary acceptance because the guy I was there with was one of them.
As I drifted off to sleep that night, I wondered if Spencer would call again. I thought of his laughter and his breath on my cheek when he lowered his voice and spoke only to me. I remembered his arm around me as the evening had worn on. And I thought he probably would.
Spencer and I went out a few times after. I thought I was in love—a sudden love that was all the more amazing because I’d never imagined it was lurking anywhere around us when we passed in the school hallway. Because I was in love, I made some poor decisions. We’d graduated. We were adults now. The kissing and hugging combined with the alcohol, and I said yes. But in the end, it was a crush. Just a crush. I knew it for sure when he didn’t call me afterward, and then I was truly crushed. When I called him, he didn’t answer or return my call. Finally, one day, he did. I happened to answer the phone. When I heard his voice, my heart nearly flew out of my chest and heat rushed up my body to burn my face.
I blurted out, “Why haven’t you called?”
“I’m sorry, Hannah. Really. Things have changed, you know?”
“What things?”
“Well, college is coming up, and I’ve got stuff to take care of and all that.”
I didn’t answer.
He added, “I don’t have time for you right now.”
The words felt like a knife twisting in my gut. “Time for me?”
“Not right now.” He sounded awkward. “I don’t mean not for you, but for hanging out with anyone. Not even with my friends.”
I shook my head. He couldn’t see my head shake, but honestly I was speechless. Gran was nearby. The house was small. She might try not to listen, but how could she not hear?
“Hannah.” His tone changed, softened. “I’m heading off for college in a couple of months. My dad and mom want me to do some things with them, a trip, and my dad wants me to spend time at work with him.”
Which didn’t preclude spending time with the person you loved, right? Unless you’d realized you didn’t love the person after all, at least not as much as the fun stuff you might miss out on by choosing the tougher path of integrity and loyalty.
“I see. I have plans, too. You should’ve been more considerate, had some guts, and not made me chase you down. Have a good life.”
I hung up. I’d tried to keep my voice low, but what were the odds Gran hadn’t heard? I couldn’t face her. I walked out the kitchen door and crossed the yard to the pottery cabin. I sat on the seat at the wheel. All around me, in the corners and above my head in the loft, were things Grand, or others, had stored here over the decades. Sometimes it was like being buried amid someone else’s junk. Other times it was like hugs and memories wrapping around me, a certainty that life had gone on for centuries in our Hollow, not only for the Cooper family but for the Native Americans here before us and for whoever might have preceded them. Life goes on—I’d heard it said many times.
I wanted to be devastated over what amounted to the boy’s abandonment of me. His perfidy. My Grand had been a lover of impressive words, and he’d taught me a bunch of his favorites. Perfidy was a fine one that sounded exactly like its meaning. Treachery. Disloyalty. And I was hurt and angered by the boy’s cowardly actions, but the truth was, I wasn’t really all that hurt. My pride, yes. My feelings, certainly. I’d made some bad choices and tried to fit myself into this person’s life, a life in which I didn’t belong. I lived in Cooper’s Hollow. This was where I belonged. One day, I’d go off to college and be smart and successful, and when I came back to Louisa County and our cozy Hollow, everyone would see how brilliant, beautiful, and fabulous I was.
“Hannah?”
Distantly, I heard Gran’s voice. I’d left the cabin door cracked open for light and air. I got up to look out. She’d pulled a kitchen chair over to the back door and had wedged her cane into the door hinge to prop it open. She was wearing the knee-length housecoat she called a duster. Her legs were encased in the tight white stockings Mildred made her wear for swelling. On her feet were the same worn-out house slippers she’d scuffed around in for years, and she rested the soles on the threshold. She saw me at the cabin door and yelled, “Are you all right, honey?”
Despite a tear or two trickling down my cheek, I laughed. It was a short, embarrassed laugh but already a strong sign of recovery.
“I’m fine.” I wiped at my cheeks and joined her on the porch.