A Kiss for Emily (Emily Stokes Series)

by J. P. Galuska

  And he liked me!

  As a smile spread across my face, the ache in my heart told me that I already missed him.

  Dismissing my paranoid fear of a heart attack, I envisioned our future kisses. Crossing the floor of my room, cool damp air rushed in as I opened my window.

  “So much for global warming,” I grumbled and headed for the shower.

  After slipping on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, I headed for Kitty’s room. As I walked down the hall, the open loft area came into view and I couldn’t help but smile at the music stand still waiting to be used.

  Sitting on the edge of my sister’s bed, I gave her a gentle nudge and waited for the complaining to begin. Kat was not a happy riser; she was always too tired. The path from the bed, to the potty, to the breakfast table was always filled with moans and groans. Luckily, as we sat at the table, the grumpies in her pants seemed to magically disappear as she gulped down her chocolate milk with the aid of a fluorescent pink straw.

  “It’s rainy today,” I said, mostly to break the silence.

  “I can see that.”

  “Do you have a raincoat? I think it’s supposed to rain all day.”

  “So I still have camp?” She looked hopeful.

  “Rain or shine.”

  After dropping Kat off at camp, I decided to drive over to the hardware store to pick up some green paint samples since I’d be in Topeka already. I didn’t think Mom would mind me going without her. Besides, I knew Sam was busy with other plans so I had no reason to hurry home. While driving, I wondered what it would be like to be a farmer’s wife…doing farm stuff every day.

  Contrary to the smelly farmer image I had, I got the impression from Sam that Garret and Tilly Easley were no ordinary farmers. He described them more like fancy citizens. I envisioned his mother putting on a pair of short white gloves, dressed in high heels and a hat that complemented a nicely fitting dress, preparing for a Sunday drive. Quite the image that fit right in line with the 1920s farm I was growing so fond of. It was such a stark contrast to the twenty-first century.

  Missing him, I reached in my purse to get my phone to call Sam, then scowled at my own stupidity for never asking for his phone number.

  Upon entering the paint department, I became a bit overwhelmed by the extent of green options to choose from. I guessed there to be over one hundred shades of green. Immediately, I ruled out anything “minty.” I wanted my room to be calming, not make me hungry for chocolate. Teal greens were eliminated next.

  Closing my eyes, I envisioned the layout of my room. I had two walls with windows, the hallway door in another, and a double bi-fold closet door in the forth wall. Could I really paint my whole room green or would it create the illusion of being lost in an overgrown rain forest? Maybe just one wall, and the large closet doors and wooden window jambs green. I was liking this new idea, and started incorporating a “happy spring” wallpaper border when the clerk walked up beside me.

  “Are you finding everything you need?” His voice matched the lines on his face.

  “I’m thinking about sponge-painting my room. Do you think Festival Green and Shamrock would complement each other?”

  He liked my choices. “There is also a newer technique you might like to try. The flat surface actually looks like brushed suede from the mixture of light and dark hues.”

  “Ooooh.”

  We chatted a bit more before I thanked the man for his suggestions. Excited to get home and tape the samples on my closet doors, I hurried to my car, still admiring the shades of green. Loud obnoxious honking from the street interrupted my peaceful state. At least, the noise bothered me until I saw who was responsible: none other than Rayyan and Bailey, both waving wildly out the car windows.

  “Emily!” Rayyan shouted as she swerved sharply into the parking lot, sending Bailey flying against the car door and her arms flinging wildly.

  Thank God for seatbelts.

  Stuffing the samples into my purse, I ran up to the car window. “Hey! I miss you guys! How’s your summer? Do you have time to head over to the coffee shop?”

  “Girl time just isn’t the same without you.” Rayyan spoke too loudly. “That’s a great idea.”

  “You call Clair, and we’ll meet you there.” Bailey added, already shifting the car in drive for Rayyan.

  Although the weather called for something hot to drink, it had been a long time since I’d been to Java Hut so I ordered my favorite, the Vanilla Chiller, instead. After receiving our order, we took a table in the back.

  “I got a job!” Rayyan was the first to brag about her summer news. “At the mall. It’s mostly nights, so I still get to play all day. And no, discounts don’t apply to friends, so don’t even ask.”

  “What about you, Clair, anything new?” I asked.

  “Yeah, that jerk Rob broke up with me, the day after school let out. Apparently he didn’t want to waste any time finding a college babe now that he’s done with high school.”

  I thought she seemed to be taking it extremely well when she admitted she was sick of him anyway and had been eyeing a guy who worked at Dillon’s grocery.

  “I’m always running to the store for Mom. She loves it.” Clair giggled and took a sip of her caramel latte. “And you sure are tan,” she said, pointing her straw at me.

  The door opened and in walked a well-dressed couple. A breeze followed them in and it made me shiver. The man must have been wearing too much cologne because I could smell it from where I sat. I liked it though. It reminded me of Sam. I actually caught myself looking around the coffee shop just to make sure Sam wasn’t here. Automatically, I licked my lips to brush the taste away.

  “You’re tan,” Clair repeated her comment, recapturing my attention.

  “Oh?” I looked at the shade of my arm. “Yes.” I mumbled, embarrassed to admit my current hobby.

  Dissatisfied with the lack of details, Bailey questioned, “So, what are you up to? Is country living as bad as you were dreading?”

  Three pairs of eyes focused on me.

  “Get this,” I sidestepped the questions and pulled out my cell phone. “I haven’t heard a word from Alex since—well, besides the night I moved out of town.”

  “You never told me he came over,” Bailey scoffed.

  “What did he say?” Clair’s eyes were wide.

  I wrinkled my nose and shrugged. “So yesterday morning, I get this text from Alex, which I just ignored. And then,” I leaned in closer to the center of the table to whisper, “when I looked at my phone last night, I had twenty-seven missed phone calls. All from him!” I showed them my phone as proof.

  “OCD,” Rayyan said.

  “Stalker!” Bailey sneared.

  “Eww, creepy.” Clair shivered. “Did you call him back?”

  “Oh, no. I put my heart through enough pain.”

  “Guess what I heard,” Rayyan gossiped. “Danny saw him over by the—you know where—buying you know what.” She cringed as she said it.

  “Just say it, Rayyan.” Bailey challenged. “The meth house.” She spoke louder than necessary. “No one is going to arrest you for talking about it. In fact, no one in this store would do anything even if you said you did it. Watch.” Bailey stood up, cleared her throat and stated matter of factly, “Let’s go to the corner and score a bump.”

  Clair’s expression turned to shock as she ducked beneath the table. The look on her face was priceless.

  I nearly fell off my chair laughing.

  “It’s not funny,” Clair hissed, returning topside, looking everywhere. “Somebody might see us.”

  “You’re such a sissy,” Bailey laughed, adding a snort.

  The pig sound took me over the edge. I couldn’t catch my breath. Tears streamed down my face and I couldn’t speak. The more I tried to control my laughter, the funnier it all seemed.

  “Snort!” went Rayyan.

  “Not you too!” Clair groaned.

  The mania quickly spread, and three of us were snortin
g hysterically.

  “Quiet over there,” a man ordered from behind the counter.

  “See?” Bailey observed, hushing her voice. “He’s more worried about the noise level than our illicit drug use. Snort!”

  Another round of laughter exploded from the table. Although I was laughing on the outside, a part of me was worried for Alex. This was not good.

  “Seriously, how is Silver Lake?” Rayyan asked once the laughter died down.

  “It’s very small, but has a lot of unusual street names. I’d like to visit the city hall and read up on its past.” Strangely, the taste of men’s cologne settled upon my tongue again, but this time I thought of brain damage.

  “You are so weird, Emily!” Clair remarked.

  “You should talk, missing school for a hair appointment.” Rayyan backed me up.

  “I’ve actually stopped in the town twice now. Once to buy new furniture and then on Sunday for church,” I confessed. “I’ve really just been hanging out at the new house—” A little tickle on my neck interrupted my sentence and I brushed it away.

  “That’s dreadful!” Clair said, probably imagining life without daily shopping.

  “It was at first,” I agreed, but not for the same reasons. “Country life has been growing on me.” I looked at each of their faces and waited for a reaction. They remained silent. Nervously, I wiped the puddle of water collecting around the bottom of my plastic cup. We all took a sip of our drinks to fill the lull in the conversation.

  “You are so full of crap.” Bailey pointed her finger at my nose. “I know there’s a guy involved.”

  I threw up my hands in surrender. “What?” I crowed pretending to be innocent. The girls wanted details and I knew there was no way getting around it. “Okay, okay,” I caved in. Still, I was going to have fun with it.

  With as little emotion as possible, I shrugged and casually mentioned, “I planted a vegetable garden.” With cup in hand, I folded my arms across my chest, and leaned back against the chair. I took an extra long sip of my drink trying to hide my smirk.

  Looks of intense disappointment stared back at me. “That’s why I’m so tan.” I attempted to sound as indifferent as I could.

  Three damp napkins bounced off my chest.

  There wasn’t really an elegant way to describe Sam, so I went for the bold approach. “I met a farmer.”

  That was definitely the wrong approach. Three pairs of horror-struck eyes starred at me.

  “A farmer?” Bailey gasped.

  But the unavoidable smile spreading across my face just kept getting bigger. I closed my eyes to get a clearer mental picture of him in my mind’s eye.

  “We just met a few days ago, but I tell you, he is nothing I ever thought a farm boy would be,” I said, basking in his memory. “Instead, he’s turning out to be everything I could ever hope for. I’m completely in love with him.”

  The shop door opened again allowing two ladies to enter, carrying another round of musky cologne, but this time, the wind rushed past me from the other direction. Instinctively, I tuned to check the rear exit. It was closed.

  “Wow!” Clair exclaimed, indifferent to the draft. “That’s so romantic.”

  All three of my friends rested back in their chairs, pondering what could be so special about a farm boy.

  Shrugging off the unusual airflow, I continued my stories about Sam.

  “Of course he’s gorgeous, but beyond that, he is so…amazing.” Words continued to flow as I reminisced of our time spent together: the first time I saw him standing by the old Ford truck, the walks through the prairie grass, laughing as we planted the garden, swimming in the pond, talking to the animals.

  “How long have you known him? It seems kinda fast,” Bailey said. “Besides, I thought you gave up trying to date again.”

  “I know. I must seem so fickle, but I can’t help myself. Plus, he is so smart! He seems to know everything. He’s like this history expert, and makes the United States seem like this fabulous culture museum. And science, he would make an excellent science teacher.” My cheeks were getting sore from grinning so wide. “And the best part about him, is that he never makes me feel stupid.” Talking about Sam made me miss him terribly.

  I looked across the table at my friends. Apparently, my words needed some time to soak in.

  “He sounds too good to be true,” Rayyan finally commented. “How old is he? He sounds older.”

  “Well, a little. I’m not sure how old, exactly,” I confessed. “He avoided the question when I asked him.” The girls eyed me with worried expressions.

  “What did he say,” Clair asked flatly.

  “That he was old enough to know better, but young enough not to care.”

  “That’s not good,” Bailey stated.

  “It’s just an old saying,” Rayyan added. “You’re reading too much into it.”

  “He’s admitting he shirks responsibility,” Bailey scoffed.

  “Can it, Bailey. I’m beginning to think you don’t like anyone,” Clair said. Then she looked at me. “How old do you think he is?”

  “Oh—” I really didn’t want to say a number out loud. It would make the gap too real. I chewed my fingernail for a second, stalling for more time. Then I noticed my knee bouncing nervously up and down. After a heavy sigh I looked them all in the eye. “Maybe even twenty.” Their reactions were not as shocked as I was expecting. Maybe they were still recovering from the farmer thing.

  “What do your parents think?” Rayyan asked.

  “Of course Dad wigged out, mostly because he remembers what he was like when he was young. But my mom seems to be okay with it. I think she trusts me more than Dad trusts hormones.”

  “If not hormones, then some other artificial aphrodisiac,” Bailey sneered. “He’s too old.”

  Of the four of us, only Bailey had had sex before. And she doesn’t even remember it. She went to a party and some jerk put something in her soda. She remembers almost nothing of the party, or the rape. An adult walked in while it was happening and pulled the guy off of her. Bailey said that her father was the one who supported her through the whole ordeal, never blaming her in any way for what happened.

  Rayyan’s eyes suddenly went wide. “You’re a minor! He could go to jail for dating you!”

  The disapproval was beginning. I didn’t want to hear this. Eyeing the extra napkin laying on the table, I considered stuffing it in her mouth. “It’s not like he’s twenty-five. Besides, we haven’t even really made out yet.”

  “And how long do you think he’s going to be content with that?” Bailey asked accusingly. “Doing nothing?”

  “Well, even I would not be happy doing nothing.” I answered sharply. “Besides, the police don’t drive around seeking out illegal relationships. I’m going to be eighteen in a few months and he knows I’ll be a senior in the fall. He has no qualms about it. Not all guys are horny pigs.”

  My closing statement was definitely not as elegant as my mom might state her closing remarks to a judge and jury, but I believed it to be just as effective.

  “Well, when you’re barefoot and pregnant, standing in the middle of this guy’s kitchen cookin’ up his homemade meal, don’t blame us. Just be ready for ‘I told you so.’” Bailey snapped.

  Or not.

  I should have just stopped my useless persuasion, but I couldn’t. “It’s not that way at all. He’s past all the high school drama we are used to.”

  “So why would he be interested in you?” Bailey snapped.

  Pretending not to hear her, I continued, “Sam is unlike any person I have ever met.”

  Understanding that I was not going to convince my friends of Sam’s remarkable qualities, I decided to switch gears and try another approach. Before finishing the first word in my next sentence, the voice of caution screamed out that it was a very bad idea. But too eager to show off Sam, I blatantly ignored the voice, again, and continued with my question, “Would you like to drive out and meet him?”


  “Right now? Seriously?” Clair beamed.

  Bailey nearly knocked the table over racing to the car.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  ROAD TRIP

  WITH EACH STEP towards the vehicles, my stomach knotted tighter like it knew something I didn’t. I wracked my brain for a valid reason to take back my offer. I plunged forward.

  “Let’s take two cars,” Rayyan suggested. “Clair, you ride with Emily and then I’ll bring you back after we meet Sam. That way, Em can stay behind for a little smoochie-smoochie action.” She ended her sentence with a giggle.

  With my hand on the door handle, it dawned on me that he might not even be home. What if he was still running errands? This was stupid. What was I trying to prove, anyway?

  Unfortunately, bad ideas usually have bigger problems to go along with them. Since it was still raining, we obviously weren’t going to walk to Sam’s farm from my house, and that was the only sure way I knew how to get there.

  “Doesn’t your phone or car have GPS or something?” Clair asked. She always had the newest of everything.

  Annoyed, I answered, “Yes, but I don’t know his address.” I dug through my glove box and found a wrinkled map. I showed them the approximate area of Sam’s farm and the road I saw yesterday while cooling off in the pond. Tracing the lines on the map, I followed our route. “We’ll take Humphrey Road off of 24. If we pass 62nd, we’ve gone too far.”

  Clair and I made small talk about the landscape that whizzed by the car windows as we sped out into the country. She was impressed by its tranquility. I showed her the samples I picked out from the hardware store and we both laughed at the idea of me becoming a country girl. She liked the suede sample best, but I was still leaning toward sponge painting. We turned our conversation to the boy at the grocery. She admitted to only knowing his name because of his name tag. She was thinking about asking him to a movie this weekend. I complimented her on her bravery.