“JD?”
Chapter Four
“WELL, SOME PEOPLE STILL CALL ME THAT.”
More than Celeste’s lifetime ago, that’s what everybody had called him. JD. And in the time it took her heart to regain its natural rhythm, that’s how far Maxine traveled, to a long-ago, crisp Friday night. She saw herself sitting cross-legged on a blanket on the back of JD’s Chevy pickup, throwing Mountain Dew tabs at him, aiming at friends as they streamed through the parking lot after the football game.
“JD, get down! Connor’s going to see you.”
“Shh, JD. That’s Mrs. Shepherd. She’ll tell Mother.”
“Jay, I love you.”
Maxine, the former passionflower, blinked quickly to chase away the vision. She leaned against the table edge and forced herself to focus on the living memory before her. What do people call you now?
“Maxie, Maxie.” He shook his head. “Wow. It’s been a long time.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and moved his weathered bomber jacket from his left arm to his right. The ice in his coffee clinked. “How are you?”
Maxine stuttered apologies to the server and busboy who were clearing away shards and splashes. She pressed a few bills into the server’s hand and then stood and made her way around them, landing a breath away from . . . JD, this person she couldn’t simply close her eyes and wish away or discard like broken glass. She swallowed. “I’m, uh, good. I mean, well. I’m doing well. And it’s Maxine now. You threw me a bit because no one ever calls me Maxie.” Until today. That makes two people.
“I admit I haven’t heard JD in a long time myself. Maxine, huh? That’ll take some getting used to.” He shifted to his other foot.
For a moment, both their eyes were drawn to the tinkling ice. Maxine watched the condensation on his glass pool and drip once, twice to the floor. She took a step back as the busboy swiped the spot before swishing back to the kitchen with the mop and bucket. Watching him go, she finally took stock of the crowded café, heard other people munch and chat away around them. Sassafras, once her shelter in a storm. Feeling exposed to the elements, Maxine retrieved her mustard-colored peacoat and slipped it on. “What are you doing here?”
He wiggled his coffee cup.
Maxine shook her head. “I meant here, in Mount Laurel. Wait. Is that what Evelyn was talking about? You’re the ‘family gathering’? When I ran into her, we talked about your brother and the new baby. You never came up.”
“I was supposed to meet Ev and Kevin later at her mom’s house, after my job interview.” JD took a breath. “I’m moving back.”
“Back where? Back here? To Mount Laurel?” Maxine drew her coat closed as if to protect herself from the news.
Maxine and Evelyn had always walked through life in step before their paths had abruptly diverged. Losing their fathers at a young age. Growing up sweating in their grandmothers’ kitchens. Loving Lester men. Sometimes one skipped just ahead of the other; often, one friend had to carry or drag the other along. As Maxine gaped at the man laughing at her, she chalked up another thing they had in common: their propensity for wearing secrets like bulletproof vests. “What’s so funny?”
“Don’t you live here? Then why is it so preposterous that I would move back?”
Not so much preposterous as disastrous. Maxine draped her small purse across her body and fiddled with the clasp. She forced her hands to work the buttons on her coat.
“Maxie. Maxine, are you okay? You seem . . . different.”
Maxine’s trembling fingers paused for a moment on her last button. Her words wriggled up from her chest and through the wool neckline of her coat to make it between her lips. “Well, yes, my hair is natural now, I’m about ten pounds heavier even though I’ve stopped drinking Mountain Dew . . . among other things. I’d expect I’m a lot different than I was at seventeen. Did you expect you’d find me still wearing your letterman’s jacket?”
“Actually, I didn’t really expect to see you at all. Not today anyway.”
His soft words finally lured her eyes to his, and it seemed that once they were hooked, she couldn’t extricate them. She flailed about, searching for syllables or phrases she could string together into something coherent. She took in a shallow breath and finally managed to exhale, “You look good.”
“Thank you. I was thinking the same.”
Maxine raised a brow.
“About you, I mean, of course. You look really good.”
“Good, but different?”
“You were always a dog with a bone.”
Hearing the same accusation she’d hurled at Teddy, Maxine made a harsh sound, akin to a bark. Several diners glanced their way.
“JD, I—”
“Maxie, you—”
Their words orbited each other for a second before the black hole between them swallowed their voices and they were left staring silently at each other. Then his arm breached the air space and his right hand cupped her elbow. “How about I walk you out? They probably want to use this table anyway.” He nodded toward the server hovering near the kitchen’s swinging doors and held his cup above his head before he set it down atop a five-dollar bill. Then JD steered her through the labyrinth until they reached the double glass doors. He pushed open one side to propel her through.
The brisk air was ammonia for Maxine, jolting her alert. She freed her arm from his clasp and backed up a step, watching him as he braced open the door for a couple entering the restaurant. Maxine hadn’t finished poring over his face when he turned to her.
“Do you feel better?”
Maxine shook her head, stunned that he could still read her. She sought sanctuary from the nearness of JD in the scene around them: the storefronts across the street framed by the steel-gray sky. A cardinal-red Jeep Wrangler traveling faster than the posted twenty-five miles per hour. A worn pink bunny flung from a passing stroller.
“I couldn’t tell if you were going to laugh or cry in there.”
“I couldn’t either.” Maxine turned her back on the young woman running to retrieve the stuffed animal and faced the man-who-once-was-JD. She didn’t have the emotional energy to hide herself from him. “It’s been a long day, and as they say, ‘I have promises to keep.’”
“‘And miles to go before I sleep . . .’ Still reading Frost.” The left corner of his mustache rose a millimeter as he looked askance at the large clock above the bank that presided over the intersection. “It’s just 4:45. You don’t have a minute or two to catch up with your former—?”
“No.” Maxine waggled her left hand in front of her face, as if her diamond ring could catch the fading afternoon light and throw it back in his face. “I’m getting married.”
“Is that so? To the dude who left you holding the check?”
“He didn’t leave me holding the ch—you saw Teddy?”
“Teddy? As in bear?” He stroked the silky hair framing his jawline, a black Magic Marker tracing his face. “So you’re marrying a teddy bear. I hope that’s working for you.”
Maxine reached into her pocket for her keys. “His name is Theodore Charles. And it’s ‘working’ just fine. I do have to go. But it was . . . good to see you, JD. Good luck with that job.” She withdrew her keys and quick-stepped toward her car parked a few spaces from the door.
“Maxine!”
She whirled around.
This time both ends of his mustache moved as his bottom lip curved gently. “It was nice running into you. And you’ll definitely see me again.”
________
Maxine’s toes barely grazed the dewy grass, but it didn’t matter. The lacy hem of her white dress caught on the taller blades. Soon, her feet and ankles were sopping wet. Her hand brushed against the cold granite on her right and she read the names etched in ornate script, large enough for God above to read: Devon and Michelle, 43 years. She scattered chrysanthemums on the mound. A couple more steps and on her right another stone erupted from the ground: William and Lena, 15 years. More blooms. S
he tripped over a small, nondescript marker memorializing Jacob and Faith, 7 months, and when she landed on her knees with a smack! on the squishy dirt, she read The Lesters on the monument in front of her.
Before she could strew flowers across the grave, a hand clasped her shoulder. She looked up and behind her, shielding her eyes against the blazing sun. It obscured the face looming above her, but she could see his hand reaching for her. She took it and allowed him to pull her to her feet, leaning hard on the firm yet soft hand that cupped her elbow. “Dead. These marriages, my family. It’s over,” Maxine whispered, shaking her head. She dropped the rest of her flowers and brushed her hands against her long white skirt. She ignored the brown streaks of earth on the chiffon billowing behind her in the sudden breeze.
“Oh, Maxine . . .”
“How do you know me?” She squinted, trying to see what her heart seemed to hear so clearly.
He laughed. “I’ve always known you. My covenant with you is forever.”
“Always known me?” When Maxine rolled over in bed, her pillows swallowed her murmurs. A few hours later the morning sun burned away the remaining tendrils of her dream, diaphanous as the dress she’d worn during her graveside inspection.
________
“You saw that boy two days ago?” Vivienne threw the ball. A large white puff of fur shot after it.
“You mean JD.” Maxine watched her mother’s standard poodle bound through the dead leaves toward them. He dropped the tennis ball at Vivienne’s feet.
“I don’t care if he calls himself Kunta Kinte. What else did he say?”
“Nothing. Nothing much, anyway.”
“Good boy, Milo.” Her mother stopped long enough to stroke his head. She lobbed the ball again. “You know, I noticed you the other day. You rolled in right past me when I was settin’ up the smoker in the driveway, but I figured you wanted to stew in private. What’s he doing here?”
After seeing JD, Maxine had driven home from Sassafras, barely able to focus on the traffic signals, driving too fast through the fog enshrouding Mount Laurel and too slowly to keep up with the speed of her thoughts. “He interviewed for a job. I guess he’s moving here?”
“I know you’re not askin’ me! What in the world?” Mother frowned. She turned away from Milo as he darted among the spindly pine trees that towered around them, hunting for his toy.
Maxine followed her mother’s gaze. Both sets of eyes rested a minute on Celeste, who knelt by the stream running along the edge of the property. Maxine looked away from the girl and Vivienne as her thoughts drifted beyond the treetops. She squatted to pick up a miniature pinecone and added it to the considerable collection in her pocket. “Moving back here, and of all times . . .”
Vivienne threw the fuzzy yellow ball and watched Milo sniff at leaves rustled by the breeze and chase squirrels chittering all around them. The dog seemed to give up on the game as he trotted down to Celeste. “Well, it’s home. You came back, didn’t you? Two times, as a matter of fact.”
The first time, Maxine had been a runaway teen, and she’d had nowhere else to turn. The second, she was a young adult, and there was nowhere else she’d wanted to be. Her spiritual amnesia had helped her pretend that her life BCC—before Christ and Celeste—had not only been forgiven; it had never happened. Celeste was her sister. But now, JD’s return served as yet another striking reminder of the life she’d left in the bottom of the baptismal pool in Valdosta. Here it was, soaking wet but resurrected. “You’re starting to sound like JD,” she muttered.
“Like that boy? Do I now?” Mother whistled, and Milo trotted back. “Those are words I never expected to hear.”
“What I mean is, that’s what he said to me the other day. But it made sense for me to move back to Mount Laurel. My . . . family is here.”
“But he has family in the area too.” Vivienne glanced again at the stream’s edge. “Maybe he came back for his mama. You know she’s suffering from early onset Alzheimer’s. Annie has never been my favorite person, but she sure could use all the love and support she can get right now. To surround herself with what and who is familiar—even if we consider him unwelcome.”
“Mother, you know there has never been an if for you when it comes to JD. He was unwelcome, period. Regardless, knowing he was gone gave me breathing room. One minute I’m planning my wedding to Teddy, and the next . . .”
“And the next, you’re still planning your weddin’ to Theodore.” Vivienne clipped the leash to Milo’s collar and tugged him in the direction of the house. “Seeing that boy doesn’t change any of that. Not even your guest list.” She cupped her mouth and called, “Celeste!”
“That’s not funny, Mother. Why are we heading back?” Though she hadn’t wanted to go on the walk in the first place, crunching through the leaf beds had helped drown out the noise of her thoughts.
“Because I have sweet potato pies in the oven, and Celeste has a science lab to finish. Don’t you have a column to write?”
“Aaaaaaah!” Maxine’s scream set a flock of blue jays to flight. The angry flutter of their wings rained down needles on them, and the birds mocked her with their shrieks. “Everybody is so worried about this column!”
Celeste crunched toward them. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Your sister’s got so grown she forgot herself.” Vivienne cut her eyes Maxine’s way. “But thirty or not, I don’t appreciate you raisin’ your voice to me even if you’re tellin’ me Santa Claus is comin’ to town. I’m not everybody.”
“I’m sorry, Mother, but I’m just tired of hearing about what I’m supposed to be doing.” Maxine threw a pinecone into the woods.
“Maxine, if you don’t stop . . .” Vivienne struggled to restrain Milo, who was determined to retrieve what he must have considered toys tossed for his pleasure. She uttered a low tsssst and tugged twice on the leash, settling the dog. Vivienne none too gently clutched Maxine’s fingers. “You’re lettin’ all this get the best of you.”
“What do you mean—the best of you?” Celeste tucked the vials she held into a pocket in her backpack and slung it over her shoulder.
“Mother thinks I’m succumbing to the pressures of work and wedding planning. What do you think, Sis?”
“Well, maybe if you . . .” She looked from one woman to the other, then swallowed. “I think you’re just as crazy as always. Over-the-top and you don’t know how to chill.” Celeste laughed and dodged the playful punch Maxine aimed at her shoulder and reached for the leash. “Milo and I are going to take the long way back to the house. That okay, Mama?”
“Just don’t make it too long. You have work to do. And you need to eat—something with lots of fat and protein, preferably. Those jeans are whippin’ your behind.”
“They are not!” But Celeste twisted around and checked. “Anyway, I hid a slice of pizza from Zan. I was having that for lunch. Come on, Milo. Bye, Max!” She loped off, Milo dancing beside her, itching to charge whatever would run from him.
Freedom. What does that feel like? She took a breath so deep it rattled her whole body. “I thought Teddy was the best of me. I know Celeste is.” She stared into the pale-blue sky, though she could’ve been blind to the clouds and deaf to the jays that still fussed at them from high in the pines. She could only focus on her current predicament. “But I’m afraid that I’m going to lose my best, that JD is going to get the best of me. Again.” Tears forged a wet trail to the corners of her mouth.
Vivienne tightened her grip on Maxine’s hand. “Maybe that boy—”
“JD.”
“Whatever. His showin’ up here could be the motivation you need.”
“Motivation?” Maxine swiped at her face with her gloved hands and fixed her eyes on her mother. “To do what exactly?”
“To action, Maxine. You thought you could just float along through the rest of this year until your wedding, trading this identity you created for another one—wife of Theodore Franklin Charles, headmaster. Just because you told everybody to
stop calling you Maxie doesn’t mean that’s not who you are.”
“So you think I’m still that wild girl in high school?” Again, Maxine’s outcry ruffled the feathers of the wildlife around them.
“Of course not, Maxine. But when you were a girl, you were either looking for a daddy you’d lost or cuttin’ and runnin’ from the one I’d brought home for you. Since then you’ve been hiding from your mistakes instead of owning up to the choices you made. Bad ones and good ones. The sassy mouth and rebelliousness might not be you, but all these knee-length skirts, acoustic Christian music, and the ‘Miss Vacation Bible School’ aren’t you either.”
Vivienne stroked Maxine’s cheek down to her chin—which she cupped as she stared into eyes that mirrored hers. “But it doesn’t matter what anybody thinks about your past—”
“It’ll matter to Teddy.”
“Maybe so. However, the covenant God made with you overrides the one you’re plannin’ to make with Theodore. That first relationship makes the second possible, something I didn’t realize when I was your age. But you know better. Now let’s go home . . . Max-ine.”
“My covenant with you is forever.” Maxine thought about her dream as she watched her mother pick her way through the fallen branches, underbrush, and fallen leaves. She considered pitching a tent where she stood, planted next to a fir tree in the woods. But after a moment she followed Vivienne, stooping to pick up miniature pinecones every other step as if they would help her find her way home.
Chapter Five
MAXINE INCHED HER CHAIR CLOSER to her walnut desk. She gazed into the backyard, squinting so she could see the creek. Something about the inexorable nature of the slow-flowing water motivated her in the churning out of her column. She became someone else—“Maxine the Ready Writer,” so different from the insecure woman who weighed every word before she opened her mouth, as if saying too much or too little would keep her from wearing her wedding dress. Because it would.
'Til I Want No More Page 4
