When I stopped, Joe stared at me, his face very serious. “Rose, why did you write this list?”
I took another drink of my beer. “Cause I was tired of not livin’, you know?”
“No, what do you mean?”
I sighed for all I was worth. “I wanted to live my life instead of havin’ my momma tellin’ me what I could and couldn’t do and tellin’ me how evil I was.”
Joe took a drink of his beer, quiet for a moment. “Rose, when did you write this list? Number four is Get my own place.”
“I wrote it Saturday, before I came home and found Momma.”
Joe reached over and took my hand in his. “Rose, did you kill your mother?” His voice was so quiet the cicadas almost drowned out his words.
I tried to snatch my hand away. “No! What do you care, anyway? You said it wasn’t for you to decide, remember?”
His grip held tight. “You’re right, I don’t care. I’m just curious.”
“What? Are you afraid I’ll beat your head in with a rollin’ pin?”
Joe laughed and let go of my hand. “No, I’m not afraid of you, not how you’re thinkin’ anyway. If you came at me with a blunt object, I could fend you off with one hand tied behind my back.”
I thought about arguing with him but decided maybe I’d prove him wrong later. I’d bide my time.
“Number twelve, dance. You’ve never danced?”
“Nope.”
“Not even in your livin’ room?”
“Nope.”
“Now that’s a damn shame. Everyone has danced in their livin’ room.”
“Not me.”
“Number fifteen.”
I turned to face him. “Which one is that?”
He glanced up. The teasing expression on his face looked forced. “Do more with a man.”
For the first time since he started reading, I felt embarrassed. “I didn’t say what I wanted. I just said do more.”
“Why do you want to commit all Seven Deadly Sins in one week? Why one week? Why commit them at all?”
I took a drink, suddenly tired of all his questions. “Look, there’s rules with that list. I can only mark them off when I do them. If I don’t do them, they can’t come off. I wrote that one without thinkin’. I thought about how Momma always said I was committin’ deadly sins and I thought I was gonna commit them all and enjoy it. But one day just didn’t seem right, you know?” I stopped to make sure he did.
He nodded with a smirk.
“So I decided one week would be more respectable. But what I hadn’t thought about was keepin’ track of them all. I think I’ll have to write them down or I’ll forget which ones I did and didn’t do.” I stood up. “I gotta pee.”
Joe laughed. “All right. Do you need help gettin’ to the bathroom?”
My snort told him what I thought of his ridiculous question. I turned to go inside the door, teetering because the porch began to wobble. I giggled again.
Joe got up and held onto my elbow. “Be careful.”
I tripped over my foot and started to fall. Joe wrapped his arm around my waist and steadied me, pulling my body to his in the process.
We stood chest to chest, his arm holding me to him. My heart sped up and my breathing became shallow. The warm feeling down below returned with a tingling I hadn’t expected but wasn’t ready to lose just yet.
“Can you list the Seven Deadly Sins?” Joe asked, his voice barely a whisper.
I stared up into his eyes, mesmerized. “Envy, slothfulness, gluttony.”
“Have you ever done any of those, Rose?”
I nodded slowly.
“That’s only three. Do you know the other four?”
“Wrath, pride, greed,…lust.”
His face moved closer to mine. My heart beat even faster, trying to flip-flop out of my chest.
“Ever felt greed?”
“I don’t know.”
“Lust?” His mouth was inches from mine.
Overcome with a yearning I’d never felt before, I didn’t answer, just studied his face.
“Have you really never been kissed? I find that so hard to believe.” His free hand caressed my cheek.
I felt his breath on my face and something in me ached with a need I couldn’t name.
His mouth lowered so close to mine, our lips almost touched. “I can help you with an item on your list.”
“Which one?” I whispered, searching his eyes and trying not to go cross-eyed.
“Number fourteen, a kiss.”
My heart thumped so hard I wondered if I was about to have a heart attack. But I decided if I was gonna die, then kissing Joe was probably a good way to go. “Can you make it a really good one?”
Joe laughed, tilting his head back, to my utter disappointment.
“So you can’t make it a good one or you don’t want to kiss me?” I asked, peeved.
He stopped laughing. “Neither.” The hand around my waist inched up my back, pulling me even closer to him, which I hadn’t thought possible. He did it slow and deliberate, like I was a mouse and he was a cat, playing with his prey. His eyes bore into mine, his mouth inching closer. My heart rate sped up again, the ache inside growing with every second.
“Are you sure, Rose?” he asked, a small grin lifting the corners of his mouth and making his eyes twinkle.
“Yes,” I sighed and closed my eyes.
His lips touched mine, soft and gentle, pulling my lower lip between his. I felt his tongue dart out and tickle my upper lip. I gasped and he pulled me even closer, his mouth working magic on mine, igniting a bonfire in my gut that threatened to consume me. My legs felt weak and I wrapped my arms around his neck to steady myself. His response was to open his lips even more and do things with his tongue that I had never considered before. I clung to him for dear life, certain I would never survive the onslaught of fire raging through my body.
When he pulled his mouth away, we both panted, our faces inches apart. His hand cupped my face and his thumb stroked my cheek. “How was that?”
I thought about it, unsure how to respond. “It’s hard to say, since I have nothin’ else to compare it to, but I think it was probably pretty good.”
“Pretty good?” he asked with a mischievous look in his eye. “Why, if I didn’t know better Rose Gardner, I would suspect you were a tease. Are you telling me that you need something to compare it to?”
I nodded, licking my lower lip where he had nipped.
His eyes followed my tongue. The playfulness fell away and his lips found mine, much more insistent this time, much more demanding. I never thought it possible to lose oneself in someone else, but I lost myself in him. When he stopped, I had no idea if I stood on my own. Turns out I didn't. Joe held me up with the arm around my back.
“Was that one better?” Huskiness filled his words.
“Does it get even better than that?” I asked, trying to catch my breath.
“Yes,” he said, his breath tickling my face. “But it involves more than just kissing. You would have to move to number fifteen.”
“Do more…?”
“Yes.”
“Can you help me with that one too?” I asked, eager.
Joe groaned, pulled my face to his chest and murmured into my ear. “You have no idea how much I want to help you with that, but I can’t. You’re drunk and it wouldn’t be right.”
I pulled back in protest. “I’m not drunk!”
“You most certainly are. Try to walk a straight line.”
I had serious doubts about my ability to do that.
“There you go.” Joe said, smiling. But he looked a little sad too. “Do you still have to go to the bathroom?”
I nodded.
“Can you make it by yourself?”
“I think so…,”
Joe decided it would be better if he escorted me inside. I shut the bathroom door behind me, looking at my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks were flushed and my eyes sparkled. I’d never seen myself look
that way.
When I walked out, Joe waited outside the door.
“Now what?” I asked. “Are you going to go home?”
“Not if you don’t want me to. We could watch TV.”
I smiled. “That sounds nice. But I don’t have cable.”
“Yeah, I know, because of number three. Get cable TV.”
“Why do I think I’ll regret showin’ you my list?”
He laughed. “Because you probably will.”
“We can go to your house if you want, you probably have cable and a sofa.”
“I think we can both squeeze in that chair over there.” He gestured to the oversized one in the living room.
I blushed a little. For both of us to sit in that chair meant we had to sit very close together.
Joe took my hand in his. He sat in the chair and had me sit on his lap, my legs over the arm of the chair. I laid my head in the crook of his neck.
“Comfy?” he asked, turning on the television with the remote.
“Mmmhmm…” I had never felt so comfortable in all my life.
Between the beer, the coziness of being held and the murmur of the television, my eyes got heavy and I decided I’d rest them for a minute.
“Rose?”
“Hmm?” I hovered on the edge of wake and sleep, when you’re straddling both but belong to neither.
“I really like your hair.”
I fell asleep, lying against his chest listening to the soft beat of his heart in my ear, my own full of joy.
Chapter Eight
The next morning, beer and I mutually decided our relationship wasn’t going to work out. I wondered why it decided to turn on me as I clung to the toilet, waiting to puke my guts out. Everything had been going so well the night before. I lifted my head, trying to remember what happened, and groaned when it all rushed back. I dropped my head in dismay, whacking my forehead on the porcelain. Just what I needed to help my already aching head.
What did I do? What did I do? What did I do? ran through my head like a Buddhist chant. What did I do? I drank a beer. And then another. Joe showed up. And he brought me a sandwich. I drank another beer. And he read my list.
I groaned again. He read my list. How could have I let that happen? Then I remembered our kiss. If my stomach hadn’t been rallying the rest of my intestinal track into a march of protest, I might have enjoyed the rush of heat and anticipation that accompanied the memory. I remembered asking him to help me with the do more wish and I groaned again. What had I done? But I remembered both kisses and I couldn’t find enough shame to muster any guilt. I felt like a fool and Joe surely thought I was a complete idiot, but I wasn't sorry I kissed him.
And there you had it; I was paving the highway to hell in beer bottles and kisses.
But I checked off another wish on my list. That brought a smile to my lips, right before I puked.
When I made my way to the kitchen, I found a note on the table, written on the back of a Stop-N-Go receipt. Next to it was my Wish List, which now had tiny check marks next to the numbers one, ten, fourteen and eighteen.
I picked up the gas pump receipt, the print small enough to fit on the three-inch long paper.
Rose,
I hope you feel okay today. Be sure to drink lots of water and I’ll check on you later.
Joe
PS. In case you missed it last night, I really like your hair.
I clutched the receipt to my chest. My first note from a boy. Well, a man. Joe definitely wasn’t a boy. Giddiness washed through me, in spite of my overall ickiness. I really wanted to share this with Violet, but I wondered if she was still mad.
The wooden box on the kitchen table caught my eye. I had to tell Violet about the will and I needed to figure out where I would live. The thought of moving away from Joe filled me with sadness. You’re getting ahead of yourself. There’s nothing between you and Joe. But I hoped there was anyway.
I picked up the phone, took a deep breath and called Violet. She answered, her tone cool but not as chilly as before. Of course, she knew it was me from her caller ID.
“I miss you, Violet. I don’t want to fight anymore.”
“I miss you too. I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?”
I started to cry. “Of course! You’re my sister, I have to forgive you.”
We laughed, still awkward in our reconciliation.
“Look, Violet, we need to talk about Momma’s will.”
“Oh! How could I forget all about that? I’m sure it won’t be that big a deal.”
I forced cheerfulness into my voice. “I wondered if I could run over later and we could look over it?”
“Sure, want to come over for lunch? Then we can chat while Ashley and Mikey nap.”
Lunch sounded like a terrible idea. The March of Protest began rumbling in my gut at the thought of it. “How about I skip lunch and come at naptime. My stomach hasn’t been the best.”
“Oh sure, darlin’. It’s probably nerves.”
I wanted to say, No, I’m sure it’s the beer, but didn’t trust Violet’s reaction, so I said nothing.
“Why don’t you come around two?”
I hoped that gave me enough time to get myself together. “Yeah, see you then.”
I got a glass of water and lay down in my bed. I had woken up there that morning, but for the life of me couldn’t remember how I got there. The last thing I remembered was falling asleep on Joe’s lap, which brought a combination of embarrassment and joy. The logical explanation was that Joe helped me get here. A moment of panic filled me at the thought of being so out of it that I didn't remember going to bed. But I woke up fully clothed, minus my shoes. If Joe wanted to take advantage of me, he would have done it when I flung myself at him.
I napped, and felt a little better when I got up. Crackers and a hot shower also helped. When I arrived at Violet’s house, my stomach had settled, but my head still ached a bit, nothing I couldn't manage.
I placed the trunk in a large paper shopping bag. I figured it was part of the will so I should bring it to show Violet. But anxiety ate at me as I knocked on Violet’s door. I told myself I had nothing to be nervous about. It couldn’t get any worse.
When Violet opened the door, she pulled me into a hug, the bag banging against the door.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“I’ll tell you in a minute. Are the kids down for their nap?”
“Yeah, let’s go into the kitchen.”
Violet poured glasses of tea for both of us, which I had trouble choking down. I hadn’t decided if I would admit to the getting-drunk part, but I knew I couldn’t leave until I told her about the kissing part of the previous night.
I set the envelope on the table and slid it to her. “Read this.”
I sat back, gnawing on my lower lip. Violet sensed my anxiety and narrowed her eyes as she picked up the envelope and pulled out the papers.
I watched her face as she read, her expression changing from concentration to surprise, then horror. She looked up with huge eyes, the color drained from her face. “Oh, my goodness! I had no idea! I swear to you, Rose. I had no idea.”
“I know, Vi. I know you didn’t.”
“What are we gonna do?” Her question sounded like a wail.
“I don’t know. I guess you need to decide what you’re going to do with the house.”
“But that’s not right, Rose. It’s not fair.”
We sat in pain filled silence. Finally, I patted her hand. “It is what it is.”
“But I don’t want it all! I want you to have half.”
I twisted my mouth into a lopsided smile. “I got somethin’, too.”
“What?”
I pulled the box out of the paper bag and set it on the table. “This.”
“What in tarnation is that?”
“I believe it is the wooden box bequeathed to me in Momma’s will. You’ll see it on the next page.”
Violet flipped the page, running her finger down the print
until she found my name. After reading it, she looked up, fire burning in her eyes. “What the hell?”
“Violet Mae!”
“What kind of nonsense is this? A wooden box? What’s in there?”
I scooted it toward her. “I have no idea. It’s locked.”
She fumbled with the padlock. “We have to figure out how to get this off.”
“I know, but I have no idea how. I couldn’t find the key.” Part of me didn’t care what was in there. Anything from Momma couldn't be good.
Violet grabbed a dishtowel and scrubbed the dust off the top of the box. “There’s writin’ under all this dust!” She bent over the box again, invigorated by her discovery, and traced the etching with her fingers. “It says Dora.”
“Who’s Dora?” I couldn’t remember Momma or Daddy ever mentioning a Dora.
“I don't know…” her voice trailed off as she turned the box around, looking for more clues. “It’s kinda like our very own mystery.”
My laugh was only slightly bitter. “Yeah, I suppose it is. We could have our very own Let’s Make a Deal. Violet Beauregard, do you want to trade your inheritance for the mysterious contents of a small wooden box?”
Violet’s eyes grew misty. “Rose, I’m so sorry. Really, I am. I’ll make this right. I promise.”
“Maybe you should wait to see what’s in the box before you go offerin’ me anythin’. There might be a pirate’s booty in there.” I tried to sound lighthearted. None of this was Violet’s fault. There was no sense making her feel bad.
“How can you tease like that? Momma cut you out of her will!”
“No, she didn't. She gave me a box. Besides, it was no secret Momma didn’t like me. I’ll admit to bein’ pretty upset when I found out, but I’ve had time to get over it.”
Mostly.
“I should have been there for you,” she said, “but I was being stubborn and spiteful. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, water under the bridge and all that. But I have other news to tell you.” My face lit up into a big smile, eager to change the subject.
Rose Gardner 01 - Twenty-Eight and a Half Wishes Page 9
