Loving Liberty

by Belinda Boring

  “It’s a new experience.” I stared up at the menu. Unlike Jake’s, there were no servers, no real menus and there weren’t as many choices. I scanned the list to see which sounded most appealing. “I’ve never had a hot dog before. Do I just choose or is one better than the other?”

  “Pick whichever you like,” Oliver replied, already placing his order.

  “Well . . . I’d like the Seattle Dog, please.” Without the chili, there’d be no spilling it down my clothes and the tomato, cheese, and mustard sounded delicious. “But hold the onions.” I blurted out, blushing at the afterthought. If I was going to get a kiss from him tonight, the last thing I wanted was bad breath.

  Repeating my selection and adding a soda to it, I waited over by the window seats for our food. It gave me a chance to study Oliver, liking the way he looked in his blue jeans. They weren’t as tight as his black pair, but I still appreciated the view. He also wore a brown suede jacket over a white t-shirt, the entire outfit making him look as though he’d stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine. He might have thought it was casual, but sexy was more like it.

  “Here we go. Bon Appetit!” Setting our dinner down, Oliver grinned and sat beside me. “Let me know if you want to try some of this chili. The owner doesn’t use beans so it has a different taste. Meatier.” He took a bite, chewing it before taking a sip of his drink.

  I looked around for some cutlery. Even though Oliver was eating with his hands, my food looked too messy to trust holding it. The second I’d stared down at my order, I knew one drop on my top and I’d never hear the end of it from my mother. “Umm.”

  “If you’re worried about spilling something, use extra napkins.” Showing me he’d thought of everything, he slid a stack of serviettes toward me. “You should be okay, though. It’s the chili you need to watch out for.” As if to prove a point, some dripped from his hot dog, splattering dangerously close to his white shirt. Oliver must’ve had good karma, because it narrowly missed and left a largish mess on the table. “See what I mean?” Wiping it up, he tossed the soiled napkin off to the side.

  “Oh, I trust you.” I laughed, finally taking a bite. It was definitely different from what I was expecting, the mustard zinging against my tongue. “This is good.”

  Oliver nodded, swiping his fries through extra sauce. “So, what kind of mischief did you get into today? Rob any banks? Get a tattoo? Start a riot?” This was becoming a tradition between us, him asking about all kinds of outlandish and rebellious acts, and me denying them.

  “Nope, just the same old boring stuff. School, school, and school.”

  “But, did you have fun? That’s the main thing.”

  There was no way I’d tell him the only excitement I had today was sitting in class day dreaming about this date. “I tried.”

  “Which is code for no. Just as well I’m here, then. I’ll make a rebel out of you, yet!” Oliver winked, taking another bite. “You sure you don’t want to try even a little bit? You know you want to.” He waved the half he hadn’t eaten from in front of me, his attempt at offering.

  Laughing at him, I shook my head. “No, thanks. I’m good.”

  “But . . .” He passed it by my face again, making moaning noises before bringing to his lips. “It’s soooo good!” Oliver was being goofy, a side of him that melted my heart.

  “Your jeans think the same thing,” I said, pointing down at his leg, where another glob of chili now lay. “Have you even got any in your mouth?”

  “Damn,” he cursed under his breath, taking yet another napkin and wiping it up. “At this point, I’m not even sure.” He tossed the remaining few bites back on his plate and sighed. “Classy, huh?”

  “Absolutely! I always have fun with you, Oliver. You make me laugh.” Already getting full, I slid the rest of the hot dog over to him. “Here, hopefully you’ll have better luck with mine.”

  “Thoughtful as ever. I knew there was a reason I liked you, Sweetheart.”

  Bantering aside, we spent the rest of our time at Matt’s just chatting, Oliver sharing what he’d done that day. It fascinated me hearing about the different options he had, sometimes not knowing what work he’d be doing until he made some calls. He spent today working at his friend’s catering company, serving at a luncheon for a women’s business club. It was funny hearing his stories, and the comments made to him.

  One particularly risqué comment caused my eyes to widen.

  “You’re kidding me, right? Women don’t say those kinds of things!”

  “Oh, yes they do. Especially after a few glasses of champagne.” Oliver chuckled, shaking his drink before sipping up the last bit. “Alcohol seems to loosen even the most prim and proper tongue.”

  I couldn’t imagine it. The idea of my own mother being that liberal, unheard of. She was always harping on about decorum and the right way to do things. She’d rather die than act loose in public.

  “You ready to go?” Oliver asked, gathering up our trash.

  “Whenever you are.” Not sure what was happening next, I followed him over to where he’d parked his bike and climbed on.

  “There’s somewhere I want to show you. It’ll take about fifteen minutes.” He handed me the helmet and helped me buckle it securely. “I think you’ll like it.”

  Entering traffic, straddling the bike behind Oliver, there was no doubt I’d love wherever we were going.

  How could I not?

  I was with him.

  I knew my mouth was hanging open in amazement, but I didn’t care. “This may be my favorite one, yet.” Entering into the section of the exhibition hall called Mille Fiori, the incredible sight around us dazzled me. “Absolutely incredible.”

  The moment I’d caught sight of the unique artwork outside the Chihuly Gardens, I was instantly infatuated. Blown from glass, one piece was huge with bright yellow and swirls of reds threaded throughout it. It looked like a squiggly tree, created from the balloons clowns use to make animals at children’s parties.

  We walked through the different exhibits, each one more spectacular than the last. I’d almost fallen over, looking straight up at the Persian ceiling displaying unique flowers in every shade and color. Oliver was watching me more than the glasswork and easily caught me before I embarrassed myself. A soft chuckle from a passing employee told me I wasn’t the first to have the same reaction. As a precaution, Oliver held onto my hand, keeping me out of trouble, yet leaving me free to simply enjoy the artist’s creative vision.

  “What do you like about it?” Oliver asked, smiling at how animated I was.

  “Everything. It makes me feel like I’m small and I’m travelling through a beautiful garden. Kind of like Alice in Wonderland. Look how vibrant the colors are. It’s magical.” I carefully came closer, my heart beating with excitement. “See how different each piece is, the swirls, twists, and loops.”

  “It’s pretty cool,” he admitted. “It would be cooler if I could see it through your eyes. I love how invested you are.”

  “I told you my dream was to travel. This is the reason. I want to go anywhere and everywhere, experience new things, and witness beauty like this. Someone made this with their own two hands. It started as an idea and grew.” Hearing how I must sound to him, I started laughing. “This is freedom.”

  Tears started to form, surprising me. It wasn’t every day something moved me to where my emotions were overloaded. Whether it was where we were, or the fact Oliver had really been listening to me, struck a chord. He’d promised me the perfect date, and here we were. The night wasn’t over yet, but I’d already deemed it a success.

  “This means a lot, Oliver,” I whispered. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Seeing you happy and having fun has made this a great night.”

  “I don’t know how anything will top this,” I admitted, unable to look away from the garden. Just when I thought I’d noticed everything, my head turned, and I caught a glimpse from a slightly altered angle. Everything was so incredibly beaut
iful.

  “That sounds like a challenge.” He chuckled. “I have no problem taking the challenge, either.”

  His comment warmed my insides, a funny dipping sensation coursing through my body. More dates with Oliver could lead to something beyond friendship and I wanted to spend as much time with him, as possible.

  Having finally seen all the displays the Gardens had to offer, we reluctantly left. I gave everything one last longing glance, desperate to memorize every flourish and burst of color. I didn’t know if I’d have another chance to return and I wanted to remember this night. It had been amazing.

  “We can always come back another time,” Oliver said, noticing my hesitancy in saying goodbye. We were walking outside now, heading toward the street where a line of taxis waited, neither of us stating the obvious—our night was coming to an end.

  “I’d like that,” I answered, melancholy creeping into my voice. I looked over at the Space Needle all lit up, bright against the night sky. “I know it sounds silly, but the thought of never seeing those glass pieces again, makes me sad. Crazy, huh?”

  “No, it makes sense. When you feel something passionately, you forge a connection.” Looking at me, I wondered if he was referring to us, as well. The entire evening had proven there was something special between Oliver and me. No stranger could have chosen these perfect places to go without understanding who I was. Oliver hadn’t chosen places he wanted, disregarding my thoughts. His goal had been to give me a night I wouldn’t forget. In contrast, Andrew was an epic fail.

  Oliver smiled. “I love that you get it. The meaning gets lost when you have to explain it to someone—that is if they are even bothering to listen in the first place.” When our hands banged against each other, I didn’t pull away when he entwined our fingers. We were now by the cabs and there suddenly didn’t seem like enough time to say everything I wanted to say to him. The evening had gone by way too fast.

  “So, did I do a good job?” Oliver asked, grabbing my other hand and swinging both slowly between us. “I promised to show you how a proper date should be.”

  “You did. I had a lot of fun.” Looking up into his face, I wondered if this would be where he kissed me. When he did nothing but stare back, heat pooled low in my stomach. He could say so much with his eyes, the way he smiled; and right now, I knew he was thinking the same thing.

  Moistening my lips, I waited to see what he’d do—whether he’d simply lean in and kiss me, or pull me into his arms, first. Either way was fine with me. As long as his mouth would be covering mine, nothing else mattered. Not the taxi honking nor the fact within the hour I’d be home and away from him. Whatever he chose would be like the icing on the cake.

  It would be magical.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Classes passed in a hazy blur. In one, I didn’t even unpack my bag or take notes. Oliver occupied my thoughts, completely. When he’d told me he wanted to show me how a real date should be, he blew away any expectations I had. The entire night had been spectacular.

  Sitting at the desk in my bedroom with the day almost over, I brushed my fingers over my lips lightly. Even though I’d chickened out at the last moment and kissed his cheek, I couldn’t stop reliving it in my mind.

  He’d gone quiet and simply stared at me, the ends of his mouth curled into a soft smile. There was a slight tilt to his head, like he was thinking about something, and when he leaned forward; I knew the moment had arrived.

  Oliver Nichols was going to show me what my first kiss should’ve been like. As far as I was concerned, the other was a horrible nightmare and this one—this one counted. A tremble passed through me as I waited. We were already close, but the few seconds it took to close the distance, dragged on forever.

  It was just enough time for my courage to flee and to hear Andrew’s vile voice in my head, telling me we’d work on my technique. Suddenly panicking, I didn’t want Oliver knowing I was inexperienced. Doing what any good coward would—I started talking and broke the moment.

  He wasn’t the only one disappointed. There was nothing more I wanted than to be truly kissed and by Oliver. I’d imagined all kinds of different scenarios and what it would feel like.

  Instead, I settled for rising on my tiptoes and pressing my lips against his lightly stubbled cheek before escaping into the taxi.

  Staring down at the text message he’d sent me shortly after the cab pulled away from the curb, I chuckled. He hadn’t been mad. He’d teased me good-naturedly.

  Chicken.

  I brushed my finger over his next comment.

  You owe me a proper kiss, Liberty.

  It made my heart race thinking about it. When would it be? Where would it happen? Would I see him coming or would he catch me by surprise? One thing I knew for sure, there were no ifs, ands or buts; I was in love and I really hoped he felt the same way.

  Pulling out my textbook, I stared down at the foreign text. My pen tapped out a random tune on the page as I struggled to make sense of it. Even the graphs were just a series of squiggles and lines. Flipping through to the end of the chapter to get an estimate of what was involved didn’t help either. More gibberish.

  It was the same for the rest of my course load. Each time I managed to grasp a concept, it reminded me of something Oliver did or something he’d said, and then I was launched back into another lengthy fantasy.

  I have it bad.

  There was no point trying to fight it. Packing everything away, I gave in to the inevitable and sprawled out across my bed. This was such a strange feeling for me—to be so preoccupied by someone that I would cast aside my responsibilities, and succumb to daydreaming, instead. In the past two years, I’d never failed to complete any assigned homework.

  I was becoming a rebel and it felt amazing.

  As though he could sense his daughter was on the verge of defying everything, Mary, our maid, appeared at the door with a summons from my father. “You’re wanted in his study, Miss Liberty.” Nodding that I’d heard, she gave a brief curtsy and left.

  Fear instantly replaced everything. Thoughts began screaming through my mind. Did he know about Oliver? Did he suspect I was slipping away from being his obedient and compliant little girl? Had I made a mistake? Was I not perfect enough?

  Quickly dissecting the past weeks’ activities, I hurried downstairs. It had been months since he’d asked to see me, alone. My palms were sweaty and my heart racing when I knocked on the door, waiting for him to invite me in.

  “Come in, Liberty,” my father boomed, loudly.

  Be brave. He doesn’t know anything. Don’t let your imagination run wild. Keep calm. My inner voice sought to soothe my already frazzled nerves, but I was already too far-gone. As I walked in and kissed my father’s cheek, I’m surprised he couldn’t hear my knees knocking together.

  Taking the seat he gestured to, I sat quietly, waiting for him to make the first move. This was the protocol he’d established since I was a little girl: no one speaks until he does. My father was used to being the center of attention and having people hang on his every word. He demanded respect and expected his orders to be carried out to the letter. Lyle Montgomery was uncompromising and unforgiving. He tolerated nothing less from his family and failure was never an option.

  “I understand it’s been a while, so I thought it might be a good idea to have a talk. Father-to-daughter.” He was still sitting behind his desk, presenting a formidable front and I longed for him to come around the table and sit by me. It had been a childhood dream to have a close and loving relationship with him—one filled with hugs and proud smiles. It was a sad day when I realized that it was never going to be a reality for us.

  “Yes, sir,” I responded, respectfully.

  “How is school going? I was talking with the Dean today, and he shared that you’re at the top of all your classes and your professors speak highly of your work. They commend your keen mind and ability to grasp the subject matter.”

  “I’m enjoying the classes you enrolled m
e in. I work hard to make you proud.”

  “Good, good. That’s what I want to hear. I’m glad to see you’re taking every opportunity to improve yourself and not waste this chance to receive an education. I know your mother would rather see you married already, but I believe that holding an intelligent conversation has just as much merit as planning out a dinner menu. Do you understand, Liberty?”

  “I do. You want me to be an asset to whomever you chose for me to marry.” I could give these answers in my sleep, knowing exactly what he expected to hear. He was judging whether his daughter was still securely under his thumb and control. Little did he know that his tight grasp was slowly slipping.

  “Good girl. Do you need anything from me regarding school? More money for supplies?” He was already reaching for his checkbook.

  “No, I’m fine. I try to be frugal with what I have.” I didn’t tell him about the pages and pages I’d doodled Oliver’s name on.

  “You’ll make someone a fine wife. You’ve grown into a wonderful young woman.” My father sat back in his chair and offered me a rare smile. “I understand Andrew Hampton has come courting. We spoke briefly a few weeks and he shared his intentions for you. I must say I’m impressed.”

  I wanted to tell him I wasn’t and beg for him to intervene. A daughter should be able to rely on her daddy for help and protection. At least that’s what I assumed. I had no doubt that this man loved me in his own way; it just wasn’t in the way I needed to be loved and protected.

  “He’s taking me to the symphony on Saturday,” I added.

  Please, Dad. Say no. Tell him he doesn’t deserve your precious little girl.

  “Ahhh, wise choice for a second date. Make sure he brings you back before midnight. He may be a powerhouse in the courtroom, but he still needs to abide by my rules.” Then he reached over for the stack of papers in front of him and began thumbing through them.

  I remained seated. I’d made the mistake, only once, of getting up before being officially dismissed; and I never made that error again. I still remember the look of sorrow on the Mary’s face when she came in to spank me. That was another thing about my father; he didn’t even care enough to administer his own punishment.