A Season of Eden

by Jennifer Laurens

  I decided to ditch last period.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I found a moving truck in our driveway, its fat rear end butting up to our front door. Stacey was in her fawn-colored Juicy velour sweats barking out orders to two bulbous movers making trips in and out of our house with chairs and paintings.

  Stacey’s brown eyes widened when she saw me. “What are you doing home?”

  “What are you doing?” I demanded. One of the movers had just hoisted an old painting from the living room. Dad and I had had the painting long before Stacey had come into the picture. “That’s Dad’s!”

  “It’s mine now. Just take it,” she ordered the mover when he stopped. He looked at me.

  “It’s not yours.” My voice raised an octave.

  “Shut up, Eden.” She swung her ample hips around and stayed on the heels of the movers.

  Irate, I went out the front door and marched up the ramp and into the moving van to see what she had taken. I gasped, pulling out my cell phone. I dialed Dad. The phone rang and rang. Then I got his voice mail. He never picked up when I called.

  Traipsing back into the house, I dodged a mover with a set of lamps. “You can’t take whatever you want,” I told her.

  “Oh, yes I can.” She cocked one of her hips. “Your father and I came to an agreement. Now go plug into your iPod and shut up.”

  Dad may not have wanted that old painting or even the fancy lamps, but my mother had wanted them at one point and seeing them carried out ripped open old scabs deep inside. “I don’t want you taking anything!”

  “Tough!”

  “You take what you bought and leave what was my mom’s!”

  She angled her head as she slowly came toward me. Her eyes lit with spite. “I’m taking my crap and your mother’s crap, Eden. How do you like that?”

  I slapped her.

  The movers froze. Rage turned her brown eyes black.

  She slapped me. The sting sunk through my cheek to my jaw, rattling my teeth. Tears sprung from my eyes. A sob choked my throat. I was ready to beg. I had so little of my mother, to see any of her possessions being taken from me pierced deep in that hollow, abandoned place inside of me.

  “I’m calling Dad,” I managed to say.

  “You do that.”

  I turned, my fingers frantically pressing his number.

  Again, he didn’t answer. I pressed speed dial over and over again and continued to get his voice mail.

  Stacey went back to ordering the men. I crumpled on the bottom step of the stairway, tears streaming out of control down my face. Each time something of my mother’s passed me, more tender scabs were ripped away.

  I endured an hour of the infliction before I went to my bedroom. I slammed the door to show my displeasure and so I wouldn’t hear her flirting with the movers.

  I fell onto my bed as if a flood was ready to burst me open, my insides ready to explode. Through tears I looked at my watch. School let out ten minutes ago. I quickly raced down the stairs, pretending not to notice the holes Stacey’s greed had left in our home.

  She didn’t say anything. I doubt she even saw me leave.

  I got in my car, screeched down the drive, and headed to school.

  I parked in the red, as near to the music room as I could. I ran to the closed door and yanked. It was locked.

  Frantically I pounded on the cold steel surface, the dam of emotions inside of me pressing against my will, threatening to burst.

  When the door opened, tears streamed from my eyes.

  “Eden?”

  I almost dove into him, so anxious to bury myself somewhere. He moved aside so I could enter.

  When I passed him, I took in a deep breath, searching for his scent because it would calm me.

  “What happened?” Then his hands were on my shoulders and he turned me to face him. “Eden?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t… I had to talk to someone.”

  “Okay. You want to sit down?”

  I wanted him touching me. I didn’t want to move. I shook my head, staring up into his face as if it was a rope and I was lost at sea.

  He tentatively skimmed his fingers from my shoulders to my elbows, sending rockets of heat up my arm and through my now trembling body. Immobile, I stood with my teary gaze locked with his. “Just a minute.” He went over and locked the door, then came back, standing so close, the spicy orange scent of him soothed me. “What happened?”

  I took a deep breath. “Today… was a very bad day for me.” Though tears balanced on my lashes, I fought letting them fall. “Things just… they got out of control. My dad and my stepmom were arguing this morning. They’ve been arguing a lot lately, so, you know, it’s no big deal. When I got home, she was moving her stuff out. But not just that, she was taking some of my mom’s stuff. My mom. It’s so wrong.” My chest buckled, and I knew another sob was coming. His eyes were so caring, I couldn’t stop crying.

  I wept openly, hunching over in an effort to cover how deeply this tore at me.

  “I’m sorry.” His voice was a soft whisper, and I continued to weep uncontrollably. Finally, I looked at him.

  His face was twisted in discomfort. I wasn’t sure if it was for me or for him.

  More than anything, I wanted him to do something.

  What, I wasn’t sure. I knew he couldn’t go to my house and straighten out Stacey. I felt like I had the day they’d lowered my mom’s casket into that deep hole. Part of me had wanted to fall down in there with her. Another part of me had held onto my dad’s hand like a life line. But he’d let me go.

  With tender hesitation, James wrapped his arms around me. Heat wound around my grief. I was drawn to the flame as helplessly as a moth, and my arms slid around him. His gentle hand soothed my head in soft strokes. The comforting sensations were so strong, my weeping began to subside.

  The first moment of silence between us steamed hot as an August day. I went still. My head pressed against the firm contours of his chest. I heard his heart thudding. Felt him swallow. Felt his comforting caress slow and finally stop. He held me for what seemed like minutes of thick, heavy quiet. Then his hands slipped up to my shoulders and he eased me back. His gaze was like tightrope strung between us and we each held an end.

  “I’m sorry I unloaded on you.” I was mortified. I’d gone into his arms like a baby. I had the horrible realization that he now saw me as a child. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “I’m sure my problems are the last thing you wanted to know.”

  “I’m glad you told me.”

  “Just what you needed, right?”

  “It’s scary when things happen at home.”

  I nodded, another rush of pressure building in my chest. “And my friends bailed on me. All of them.”

  “All?”

  “The ones I hang with—my core group. At the beginning of the semester I decided I didn’t want to be attached, you know? So Matt and I broke things off. He’s been a total retard about it since. Now, my best friend Brielle, has moved in on him. That doesn’t bother me. The thing is I know he’s just using her.”

  He continued to listen.

  “So today he told me to screw off.” I searched his open face for any signs of emotion but he remained neutral. “Anyway, that’s not that much of an issue. Not compared to what Stacey did.”

  “Your stepmom?”

  I nodded. “I… I’m afraid to go home and see what’s left.”

  “Does your dad know?”

  “He knows. I can’t believe he’s letting her walk out with everything. Those things were a part of my mom, you know? It’s so unfair.”

  He nodded and lightly touched my shoulder, guiding me to the chairs. We both sat. My eyes followed the graceful caress of his fingers. “You have beautiful hands,” I said.

  He let out a light laugh. “I do?” He eyed them. “Is that a female thing?”

  “Most girls like great hands.”

  “Oh.” He hid his hands then, tu
cking them into the pockets of his pants.

  “When your dad left, how old were you?” I asked.

  “Ten.”

  “And you haven’t seen him since?”

  “Nope.”

  “Do you even know where he is?”

  “I have a vague idea. When I was a teenager, I had this insatiable curiosity to find him. Mom hated it, but she didn’t stop me. I think the teenaged years are the defining years.

  Junior high and high school are brutal. They can cut you to shreds or carve you into the person you’re going to be.”

  “Wow, that’s… you’re right.” I couldn’t believe how insightful he was. I would have never had a conversation like this with Matt.

  “So, did you find him?”

  “I came close. I knew he still lived in Los Angeles. So I called him one day, told him who I was and that I wanted him to come see me.” He lowered his head for a moment, his hands coming out of his pockets, fingers pressing together as he leaned forward on his knees. “He told me that part of his life was over. He was sorry if I wanted to see him but that was never going to happen.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged. “It was another carve of the knife, you know? Sure, I was disappointed, but I had my mom. She’s been great.”

  “I won’t miss Stacey at all. She wanted two things: my dad’s money and my dad—in that order. It was disgusting.”

  “People get into relationships for all kinds of reasons, Eden.” His eyes flickered with something I didn’t understand but chilled me with the unknown.

  “My reasons have changed,” I stated.

  He tilted his head and sat back. “How so?”

  “I can admit I’ve hooked up with a guy for the wrong reasons—how hot he was or whatever. But that’s changed.

  I mean, one thing I’ve learned is just because somebody’s hot doesn’t mean that they have anything worthwhile going on inside. In fact, nothing’s more disappointing.”

  A faint smile curved the edges of his lips. “I agree.”

  “I guess that’s something we all figure out, my dad later than most.”

  “You’ve got a strong head on your shoulders,” he looked impressed. “I imagine you acquired it through a lot of experience and study, and I don’t mean purely academic study.”

  Pleased that he would notice, my cheeks heated. “Yeah, I like watching people—studying them. It hasn’t kept me from making plenty of my own mistakes, but I avoided a few.”

  “I wish I could say that.” He stood, slipped his hands in his pockets. I wondered if he wanted to leave. Being here—with him— gave me the security of being tucked into bed.

  “Do you have to go?”

  He studied me a moment, emotions I tried to read shifting on his face – curiosity and guilt, the last thing I wanted him to feel.

  “Eden, if you look at me that way, I… I won’t be able to.”

  Power surged through me. I didn’t move, hoping he wouldn’t either. “I like being here.”

  “Yeah.”

  Another silence pulled between us. He held my gaze for a while. It caused my heart to flutter. The flickering of concern was still in his eyes and it plucked guilt inside of me. I shouldn’t keep him, he had a life of his own, things he had to do. I lowered my head and looked at my hands clasped in my lap.

  “Thank you for… listening.” I stood. Though I wanted to stay, our brief talk had lifted my spirits. I could face going home now. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

  He took a few steps to the piano and wrote on a yellow Post It. Then he turned and came toward me with his hand out. “Here’s my phone number.”

  My eyes widened and I worked to remain casual. I took the yellow paper and looked at the number—his number.

  “That’s my cell. Call me anytime.”

  I wanted to wrap around him again, I was so elated. I nodded and smiled. “Sure. Okay.” The yellow Post It pad caught my eye on the piano behind him. I crossed to it, picked up the pen he’d used and felt his warmth still there.

  After I’d written on the paper, I peeled off the piece and went to him.

  “The offer goes both ways.” I extended my cell phone number.

  He looked at the paper in my hand as if considering whether or not he should touch it, let alone take it. I waited, my breath held. Finally, his fingertips brushed mine and he took the note.

  “This has to remain between us, Eden,” he said, gently tucking the paper into the breast pocket of his shirt. His expression was solemn.

  “I told you, there is no one in my life. You just heard for yourself.”

  He took in a deep breath. “That’s not true anymore, is it?” Our eyes held again. He opened the door for me and I left.

  •••

  When I got home, the moving van was gone. So was Stacey’s car. My dad’s Lexus was in the open garage.

  I looked at my cell phone for the time. Five o’clock.

  Dad never walked through the door before six-thirty.

  Nervous, I walked in like I always did, not sure what to expect. Another glimpse of the empty places where furniture had once been, where paintings had hung, and I felt as though I’d been slugged in the stomach. Even the smell of Camilla’s garlic and spices didn’t do much to help me feel comforted.

  My feet echoed on the tile floor. I stopped in the entry room, listening for where my dad might be but heard nothing. Taking my purse upstairs with me, I went to my bedroom.

  Farther down the hall, the master bedroom door was slightly ajar. I heard Dad weeping. For a minute I stood unable to move. I hadn’t heard him cry since Mom had passed. A flash of anger stole any sympathy I had for him.

  How could he even compare his love for Mom with what he’d had with Stacey?

  Curiosity moved me to his door. I peered in.

  The bed was torn apart; vases of silk flowers had been thrown across the room and had shattered into pieces. The scent of Stacey’s perfume hung heavy in the air. The entire top of her dressing table had been swiped clean. Perfume bottles, framed photos of Stacey, of Dad with Stacey, now lay broken on the floor.

  Dad sat on the bed, his suit jacket discarded in the rumpled sheets, his white shirt and tie loose around his neck. He held his head in his hands, bent over in the soft sounds of weary mourning.

  “Dad?”

  His head jerked up. Red rimmed his swollen eyes.

  “Eden. I didn’t think you were here.”

  “I just got here.”

  He took in a deep breath. “So, you know that Stacey’s gone.”

  I nodded and took a step into the room the scent of her perfume, mixed with his cologne like marital battle odor. “I came home earlier. She was taking a butt-load of stuff. Dad, how could you let her?”

  He looked at me a minute. “You’re a selfish girl, Eden.”

  “Excuse me?” Bitterness and old anger soured my tone. “I’m not the one who spent years in a relationship with a gold digger. You couldn’t even give Mom two years respect. What? Was Stacey that great that you could forget Mom and me?”

  He rose as if he carried a mountain on his shoulders.

  His face hardened. “Like I said, you’re selfish. I don’t need to explain what I do to you.”

  “Then who do you explain anything to?” I steamed.

  “Your law partners? What an asinine answer that is.” Tears threatened to spring out of my eyes. I fought them.

  He started picking up the mess and didn’t say anything.

  I wanted to scream at him that he was a hypocrite. I was selfish? I wasn’t the one who had spent the last ten years in an older man-younger woman relationship. I wasn’t the one who had completely ignored his daughter for a decade.

  I let out a trembling sigh and left him to clean up his own carnage.

  William was at my bedroom door and I bent down and scrubbed him. “Hey, Will.” He followed me into my bedroom and I shut the door, still simmering, still teetering on the verge of tears after Dad’s
comment.

  Flopping on the bed, I patted the mattress so William would join me. He labored up on his hind legs panting, but needed me to pull him onto the mattress. I wrapped my arms around him, blinking back the last of the tears threatening to fall.