The Joining Tree

by Claire Fogel

  I assured him we had, but that it was time to leave.

  “I’m staying here tonight, dear. I’ll be back tomorrow. Hug your mother for me. I wish she could have been here.” He hugged me tightly. “Get home safely. The greys know the way. A little darkness doesn’t bother them.”

  We left to find Ryan and Lora, exchanged more hugs and congratulations, and left for the stable.

  We didn’t talk on the ride home. We were still under that magical spell.

  At my back door, he kissed me. I think we were both fighting the magic.

  Before he left, he put his hands on my shoulders and whispered in my ear, “I love you, beautiful girl.”

  He ran down the steps, taking the last strands of tonight’s magic with him.

  When I was ready for bed, I stood at my bedroom window, enjoying the moonlit forest. I thought I could still hear Jason’s flute playing a sweet, romantic tune, but I was probably imagining it.

  Would I ever stand under the Joining Tree with the man I was in love with? That might be too much to hope for.

  Sean had to return to Penn State the last week of August for the start of football practice. We went to the Pizza Palace on his last night home. It was a very nostalgic choice.

  After he fed all his quarters into the old jukebox, we listened to the oldies as we ate pizza and drank ice-cold root beer.

  When he’d managed to consume an entire extra-large pie, he smiled. “This place is full of good memories for me, Cara. How about you?”

  “Yeah, of course. Our first dates, dancing to the oldies, my first kiss. They’re all great memories.”

  For just a minute, he looked serious. “It’s still him, isn’t it?”

  I nodded. I couldn’t meet his eyes. I still couldn’t tell Sean what he wanted to hear.

  He gave a decisive nod. “For old times sake, dance with me, Cara.”

  On the dance floor, with his arms around me, I simply closed my eyes and enjoyed his closeness, his warmth, and that smell of sandalwood and soap I’d always loved. Sean deserved more than being second best.

  When the song ended, I pulled away. I said softly, “Thank you for being you, for being wonderful. I’ll always care for you, Sean.”

  He took my hand. “But not enough, I know.” The regret showed on his face.

  We left and he drove me home. At the front door, he kissed me. It was not a gentle kiss. I sensed his frustration.

  I pulled away but ran my hand across his cheek, his lips.

  He let me go and said, “If he never comes back, Cara, I’ll still be here and I’ll still be in love with you.”

  And I knew he meant it.

  I went inside, full of regret that I couldn’t love him the way he loved me.

  It was time for me to go back to school. After one last satisfied look at my brand new empty art studio, I locked the studio door and got in my car for the drive back to Syracuse. I’d already said my goodbyes to Mom and Dad and to Amy, who promised to call me every week.

  Kevin had already left for school.

  Over the summer, we’d had fun practicing archery together the way we used to. I had wrung a promise out of him to at least text me if he didn’t have time to call. And he knew how much I hated texts!

  Ralph was in his road trip harness, fastened to a seat belt in the back seat of my car. He’d become accustomed to the regular car rides to school last year, so he was curled up with his chin resting on the edge of a window. He’d seemed a little sad to be leaving Mom and Dad and the woods he loved running in.

  “It’s just you and me this year, Ralph. But if you’re not happy being at school with me, I can always bring you home.” He yawned and went to sleep, apparently not at all worried.

  I put an old Fleetwood Mac CD of Mom’s in my CD player and hit the road. Driving out of Thornewood, I began to wish Gavin was still with me. My apartment would seem empty without him.

  As I sang along with Stevie Nicks, I told myself I was an independent, self-sufficient young woman who was perfectly capable of living alone. I told Ralph too. He gave a little whine. I didn’t think he agreed with me.

  When I pulled up to the yellow house on Birch Street, I unloaded the car, unhooked Ralph from his harness, and we ran upstairs to say hello to Laurie. After she made me a cup of tea and treated Ralph with a bacon-flavored dog biscuit, I went out in the backyard with Ralph to look for good scenes I could paint.

  Next on the list was food. Groceries were a must, so I left Ralph with Laurie and drove to the nearest market to stock up. When I got home with far too many bags of food, it dawned on me that I only had to shop for one person now, not two. I had definitely bought too much food. Well, that’s what freezers were for. I chuckled. Maybe the Lieutenant would stop by for another snack.

  I went over to the Café for dinner, but there was a sign on the door. “Closed for Summer. See you in September!” Which was still two days away. I sighed, went back to my apartment and made myself a ham and cheese sandwich.

  Ralph was sitting in front of the door, looking over his shoulder at me, wagging his little tail. Ah. He was waiting for his nightly walk, which was up to me now.

  I was still in shorts so I quickly changed into jeans and boots, slipped my phone and my keys into my pockets, my knives into my boots, and fastened Ralph’s leash to his collar.

  “Okay, Ralphie, let’s go for a walk.”

  Since I didn’t know the entire neighborhood that well, I decided to stay on Birch Street. We walked six blocks in one direction, then turned around and walked back. I’d have to explore the side streets during the daytime. It was dusk now, but streetlights were going on up and down Birch Street, creating the illusion of safety.

  Two blocks from home, I spotted a familiar green van parked at the end of one of the side streets, Oak Street I think. I was tempted to walk down there but there weren’t as many streetlights on Oak. Feeling like a big chicken, I decided to wait for daylight to do any exploring. After all, I’d just arrived back in Syracuse. Why go looking for trouble? If past experience was reliable, I was still a disaster magnet.

  I sighed. I hated feeling like such a wuss. Ralph whined a little, his head turned toward Oak Street. “We’ll explore another day, Ralphie.”

  When we were back on our own block, I was surprised to see a police car parked in front of our house, Lieutenant Fox casually leaning against the hood, his arms crossed.

  As we got closer, I thought he was looking much too serious. I just got here. What could I possibly have done?

  “Cara Blackthorne, not even a phone call to warn me. You know it’s going to take the rest of the force at least twenty-four hours to get up to speed.” Then he smiled at me, laughing softly.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. For a few seconds, I thought I was in trouble again.

  “Nice greeting, Lieutenant. You had me worried for a minute.” I smiled back.

  He leaned down to scratch behind Ralph’s ears and welcomed him back. When he straightened up, he said, “It’s really good to see you, Cara. How was your summer? In fact, before you say anything, can I take you out for a burger? Then you can fill me in on all your summer adventures.” I thought I could see a new—and different—look in his eyes, which made me curious.

  Standing up straight, he began jingling his car keys. “So, are we on for burgers?”

  I’d had a sandwich only an hour ago, but the offer of a burger was tempting.

  “Okay, let me take Ralph inside. Maybe Laurie would like his company for a little while.”

  The Lieutenant drove us to an upscale coffee shop for our burgers. Rudy’s was a very classy coffee shop, much fancier than The Grille.

  The burgers were to die for, the milkshakes especially creamy.

  “Lieutenant, this place is really great. My favorite place in Thornewood is the Village Grille, but this place has it beat.”

  He smiled. “Glad you approve. I’ve been eating here for years. By the way, I’m off duty, and you’re legal now. I think it wo
uld be okay if you called me Aidan.”

  “Oh.” That took me by surprise. He could see it on my face.

  “Cara, I’m not being forward, but I’m still in my twenties, not that much older than you. We’re friends, right?” Ah, I was beginning to understand that look in his eyes. Gavin might have been right, which made me smile a little.

  “Right.” So I began calling the Lieutenant by his first name. It felt strange at first, but gradually I got used to it.

  Over our burgers, I told him about the art studio I’d had built over the summer.

  “My dad gave me that piece of property two years ago. All I was using it for was a practice area for archery and knife throwing. There was plenty of room to build on.”

  “Were you practicing over the summer?”

  “Absolutely. I was rusty. My friend Kevin and I spent one entire summer training, but there wasn’t much time this past year. This summer we got together to practice three times a week after the construction workers left. I think I’m now almost as fast as I was two years ago.”

  When I looked up, he was shaking his head. “Your father told me how skilled you are, but do you really think you need those defense skills now?”

  I looked him in the eye. “Aidan, I will never be victimized again if I can help it. Gaining these skills has given me more confidence. I’m not very big and to be honest, being able to throw a knife accurately has saved my life more than once.”

  He nodded. “Uh-huh. Unless someone comes up behind you, hits you over the head and knocks you out. Or drives his SUV into your car.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yes, unless. Maybe, Lieutenant Fox, you and your merry band need to work a bit harder to keep men like that off our campuses and streets.” I narrowed my eyes in an accusing look and put down my empty milkshake glass with a bang.

  Both eyebrows were raised as he said, “I guess I’ve been told.” He shook his head and chuckled.

  As he drove me home, he said, “By the way, I stopped by Barrett’s Art Show last Spring. I saw your painting of your father. It was beautiful work, Cara.”

  “Thank you.” I told him about the two Art Galleries that had shown my work in Albany and New York City.

  “And they’ve sold your work?”

  “Yes, and at prices I still don’t believe.” I giggled. “My agent puts the prices on my drawings and paintings. I would never have asked so much!”

  “Wow.” He chuckled. “At eighteen, you’re already a successful artist. That’s amazing.”

  “It’s what I’ve always wanted to do, Aidan. Of course, I expected to be a ‘starving artist’ for many years. I think I’ve been very lucky.”

  “Or exceptionally talented, Cara.”

  We’d reached my house. He got out of the car with me and walked me to the front door. I thanked him for taking me out to eat. He insisted it was his pleasure.

  As he walked back down he stairs, he said, “I’ll call you soon!”

  When I went upstairs to get Ralph, Laurie said, “So you’re dating the handsome Lieutenant now?”

  “Not exactly. He wanted to hear about my summer and he was hungry.” I shrugged. “I think that’s all it was. We’re friends.”

  I wasn’t sure she believed me.

  Over the next few days, the campus gradually filled up and the Café finally opened. I was grateful for both. The usual group, minus Gavin, met for dinner most nights, talking about our respective summers and comparing notes on this year’s classes.

  Ralph and I did some exploring during daylight hours, and I learned that the side streets were similar to Birch Street, just rows of older homes, some of which had been turned into student housing. The tree-lined streets were pleasant to walk along due to the very old trees that formed a shady canopy over the streets. Everything was still lush and green, and I enjoyed the smell of just-cut grass. It still felt like summer, which was fine with me. I was in no hurry for winter.

  My classes were interesting, to put it mildly. My watercolor class was concentrating on various types of still life displays. It was harder than I expected. I’d always worked on landscapes, flowers, and even the Victorian houses sprinkled throughout Thornewood. Painting a simple bowl of fruit on a tablecloth sounded easy, but it wasn’t. Shading, texture, showing the difference between shiny and dull, rough and smooth was challenging.

  The Life Drawing class was a different kind of challenge! Seeing naked models at the front of the room always made me want to cover them up with something. Mr. Goldman, our instructor, remembered me.

  “Welcome to Life Drawing, Cara Blackthorne.” He smiled. “You still look too young to be in my class.” He looked at what was on my easel and nodded. “I can see you’re having difficulty with this.” He walked back to his desk, took something off his bookshelf, and returned to me.

  “I don’t normally assign homework, Cara, but I think I have to make an exception in your case.” He handed me a large, coffee table sized book. “Take this home and study every picture in it. I hope it will accustom you to what we’re doing here.”

  I nodded. “Thank you.”

  After he walked away, I turned to my drawing again. I’d sketched the model’s face in great detail. Nothing more.

  When I got home after classes had ended for the day, I took Ralph for a walk first. I knew I was putting off the inevitable.

  I kept my eyes open for the green van, but didn’t see it parked anywhere in the neighborhood.

  After I fed Ralph, I made myself a peanut butter sandwich, just to hold me over until dinner. Aware that I was still procrastinating, I curled up on the couch with Mr. Goldman’s book.

  The book was full of nudes! Some were drawn, some painted, and some photographed. Men, women, some old, some young, some middle-aged. I leafed through the book until I was accustomed to seeing naked people. But I still wasn’t comfortable with the whole subject. I realized that was what Mr. Goldman hoped the book would do for me.

  I went back to the first page and began again. I studied the arms, the hands, the legs, the feet, and yes, everything in between. I concentrated on the lines, the curves, the muscles, the light and the shadows.

  Finally, feeling comfortable with all parts of the human body, I closed the book and looked at the clock. Crap. It was nine o’clock and I’d missed dinner. I wasn’t sure I could face another peanut butter sandwich.

  I had a brilliant solution. Grabbing my phone, I called the Lieutenant.

  He answered right away. “Cara, is something wrong? Are you all right?”

  I laughed. “I’m fine, Lieutenant. But I was studying and missed dinner. Have you eaten yet?”

  I could hear his smile on the other end of the phone. “No, I haven’t. How about I bring over a pizza?”

  “Sounds great. I’ll supply the sodas.”

  He arrived twenty minutes later, carrying an extra-large pizza covered with all kinds of toppings. I pulled two sodas out of the fridge and we sat down in the kitchen.

  “So, tell me. What were you studying so intently that you forgot about dinner?”

  I looked at him, slightly embarrassed. “Hard to explain, but after we eat, I’ll show you.”

  He smiled, looking intrigued. “I can hardly wait.”

  When we’d demolished the pizza, I grabbed two more sodas and we moved to the living room. Aidan saw the huge book on the couch, sat down and picked it up. “This is what you were studying?”

  “Yes. It’s for my Life Drawing class.”

  He opened it and his eyebrows went straight up. “Whoa. Your Life Drawing class is drawing nudes, I take it. You’re having trouble with this?”

  “Yeah. All I’ve been able to draw is his face. In class, when I look at our model, all I want to do is throw him a towel.”

  He looked at me and laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’ve never seen a naked man before?”

  I shook my head. I felt my face getting hot. I didn’t think the photos of Gavin counted.

  Chuckling, he muttere
d, “Well, that answers two questions I was too polite to ask.”

  I rolled my eyes, still embarrassed. “Two questions?”

  “I wondered if you had a boyfriend.”

  “Uh, no. Just good friends who happen to be boys.”

  Smiling, he stood up. “I’d better be going so you can get back to your studying.”

  “Thanks for the pizza, Aidan. By the way, you said two questions.”

  “He walked to the door, winked at me, and said, “I really am too polite to ask, but I think I already know the answer.” He was chuckling as he ran down the steps.

  “You can call me anytime, Cara.”

  In my Life Drawing class the next day, I carefully sketched the rest of our model’s body, without adding too much detail.

  Over my shoulder, Mr. Goldman said, “You’re getting there, Cara. But more detail is needed. Keep the book for a few more days, okay?”

  I nodded, taking a deep breath. Obviously, another night staring at nudes would be required. But I wouldn’t skip dinner this time.

  The rest of my classes were going well. I had a different instructor for Oil Painting this year, which made me happy. The subjects he gave us for our class assignments were interesting too. The one I was working on reminded me of Win Mason’s street scenes, but I honestly thought Win’s paintings were far better.

  I continued to go home every weekend. Sure, I missed my parents, but that brand new studio was calling my name. I began bringing a few art supplies home with me on each trip.

  One weekend I unlocked my studio to find a large, non-portable easel waiting for me, along with a couple of blank canvases. My father was right behind me. When he heard me gasp, he laughed. “This is a studio-warming gift from Francis Sullivan, Cara. He actually came here to see it. He rarely leaves Elvenwood, but he was delighted to learn you’d used his studio as a model for this one and wanted to see it.

  “The easel was his idea. He had Garrett build it for you.”