Jane studied Jennalee. “You’re certainly chipper. What gives?”
“Harley invited me to the fireworks with his mom and dad. Leave at seven, picnic at the park, home after. Can I go? Dad says it’s okay with him.”
“These are…”
“Yes, the motorcycle people. They’re really nice and they seem to like me and I really like Harley.”
“It’s fine with me, just not too late.”
“Okay.”
“Wait,” Jane said. “Will you be on a motorcycle?”
“Yes, that’s how they roll. They’re not kids, Mother. They’re responsible riders. I’ll wear a helmet. I’ll be safe.”
Once more Jane had to force her trust, this time fighting down her Mother Bear side which was seldom rational. “Okay, fine,” she said and Jennalee was off to her room to decide what to wear. She’d tried on a dozen outfits when something occurred to her and she ran back to her mother wearing just a T-shirt and panties, having reconsidered the panty issue.
“You’re not wearing that!” Jane said on seeing her daughter.
“Of course not. Oh, Mother. No, I just thought of something I wanted to ask you. Did you talk to Vaughn Southerland about sex outside?”
“No, not yet. Why?”
“You better do it soon. He and Lorene Sutherland exchanged handjobs in the pool, all underwater so nobody noticed.”
“Except you.”
“Well, me, Harley, and Haskel, his dad. Haskel pointed it out to us. The old guy is pretty cool.”
“Oh, God,” Jane cried, jumping up, book falling to the floor. “Gerald!” she called as she ran out into the lobby.
Jennalee didn’t follow. She hadn’t intended to upset her mother and certainly not her father, but someone should speak to the man because there was still the rest of Sunday to get through, not to mention Monday morning. How many times would Vaughn do it? Could he do it? She knew boys were inexhaustible in this regard, but had no idea about old men. And what was a sixty-year-old penis even like? A shudder ran through her as she returned to her room, hoping her folks weren’t totally freaking over pool sex.
Chapter 17
Jennalee had hours before her date with the Laidlaws and she found, instead of her usual impatience with all things Malvern, she was anticipating a good time. She’d take care to select the perfect outfit, she’d do her hair just right, and in between she’d curl up with Bascomb Bunny to share the anticipation.
She hit the kitchen for an apple and a Coke, then peeked out into the lobby to check on her folks who, by now, should have spoken with Vaughn Southerland about sex on the grounds. She saw Jane at the desk, two Sutherland women speaking to her, while Gerald was absent. Was he out there speaking with Vaughn or maybe arguing with him? Had their exchange gone badly and Gerald was laid out in bed, heart run ragged? Jennalee slipped out into the lobby, circling behind the desk to wait until Jane was free. This took another ten minutes, during which Jennalee mentally thumbed through her closet. What was best for fireworks? For a picnic in the park? For the back of a motorcycle?
“Where’s Dad?” she asked when her mother was free.
“Lying down,” Jane replied, as if that were enough information.
Jennalee waited, then realized it was to be a closed subject. She’d never approved of closed subjects and wasn’t about to change now.
“So what happened with Vaughn Southerland?” she asked Jane.
“It’s been handled.”
There was an edge to Jane’s voice that Jennalee didn’t like, mainly because it wasn’t the familiar edge, the one she pushed her mother to so often. This was the kind of edge people jump off. “Okay,” said Jennalee. “Just curious. I’m going to go plan my outfit for tonight.”
Jane said nothing more, leaving her daughter adrift. Jennalee looked around the lobby, finding it surprisingly empty. Had Sutherlands finally learned how to handle things themselves? Were they satisfied they’d worn out the help? She retreated to her room, hugged Bascomb Bunny for a couple minutes, then waded into her closet, for real this time.
Jeans were the start of the outfit, that and the ankle boots. The top was what was key. First she paired the jeans with a red-checked sleeveless blouse, tied at the waist, then untied. This gave way to a yellow gauzy thing that let the breeze flow up under, plus it looked good against her dark hair. After this came a royal blue halter, then a patched, army green shirt. After countless changes, she asked Bascomb what look she was after. Princess? Rebel? Sweet? Salty?
There was no figuring what Harley liked. Different from every boy she’d known, he remained elusive, which added to his appeal. Boys back at Lowell had worked at being unpredictable, but that was the problem, they worked at it. With Harley, it came naturally. He was easy and confident and she loved that about him, except she wasn’t sure how to be what he wanted. Standing at her mirror in the army green shirt, she worked to understand. After some confusing minutes, she plopped down on her bed amid the pile of clothes, working toward accepting Harley didn’t like her in the way she wanted. That teacher ruined him. Or did he? Maybe it was just experimentation, getting influenced by somebody older. So why couldn’t she, being someone younger, influence him back the other way?
She jumped up and saw her clothes in a new light. Maybe a plain T-shirt with the jeans, embrace the tomboy look. What better way to pull him back where he belonged than to ease the way?
She chose a bright gold tiny tee that hugged her to the waist. It had a plain yet sassy look and she stood at her mirror turning this way and that, smiling. Totally right look. All was complete. Except…
Her hair hung straight about her shoulders and she gathered it up, found a clip, but there was no way to secure it without looking like a girl with a clip. Tossing aside the clip, she studied her image, then laughed. So simple. She got scissors from her desk and started cutting.
She hadn’t cut her hair herself since she was six, so it was an adventure. At first she left bangs, then declared them too girly and chopped them away. Amid the snipping, her hair gradually went short in front, short on sides, until after half an hour she had herself a somewhat ragged pixie.
Setting aside the scissors and taking a long look at her whole self, she saw the boy she wanted. Not a bad looking boy, she decided, as she turned and swayed, not acting boy-like at all. But maybe that was it. Look like a boy, act like a girl. How could Harley resist? He’d find her more appealing than before, allowing his like for male company while slipping over to her side. She was making his coming home easy. How could he resist?
Munching her apple, sipping her Coke, Jennalee checked for texts. She found six from Jimmy What’s-his-name and a picture of his erect penis. After trolling Twitter and Facebook, she watched YouTube videos until six, at which time she began to shower and dress. She was still twenty minutes early, so she strolled out to the lobby where Gerald now manned the desk. When he saw her, his mouth dropped open.
Jennalee saved him the question. “Just wanted a change,” she said, running a hand through her hair, finding it felt odd with so little there. “So, did you talk to Vaughn Southerland about sex?”
Gerald rolled his eyes. “Yes,” he said, “I made him aware he’s acting inappropriately.”
“Did you say he’d been seen doing it?”
“I’m not going to get into details, Jennalee. It’s done.”
“We’ll see. Best keep an eye out. If you see Lorene, Vaughn will be lurking nearby.”
Just then Jane breezed in, fanning herself and announcing, “It has to be a hundred out there.” When she saw her daughter, she added, “What on earth?”
Jennalee assured her all was well, she was just tired of long hair. Jane didn’t buy this, but since she had no evidence to the contrary, she said only, “Cute, actually.”
Jennalee smiled. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll see you later.”
“Have fun.”
Still early, Jennalee sauntered along the winding path toward Building Eight. The pool area remai
ned lively, though a good many adults now huddled under umbrellas, sunburned and tired. How many, Jennalee wondered, would manage the fireworks?
She saw Kendall Sutherland get out of the pool, recalling all she’d done—and not done—with him. That seemed so distant now, this boy. She was relieved when he didn’t spy her. Poor guy, she thought. If only there were girl Sutherlands. Then he could get up to it with some sixth cousin.
Near Building Four, she encountered Haskel Southerland rolling himself along. “Young lady,” he said. “Don’t you look sweet? I like your haircut.”
“Thanks, Mr. Southerland. Where you headed?”
“Just a stroll—or roll. Out and about.”
“Have a nice time.”
At Building Five, she saw Kimmie Sutherland surrounded by a glut of people. Parker stood at the edge, so Jennalee went over. “Everything okay?” she asked.
“I guess,” said a resigned Parker. “The secret’s out about the baby. Kimmie told Melody in strict confidence which, to a Sutherland, means run right out and spread the word. Major blab fest so we’re now buried in well wishes, which is fine, don’t get me wrong, but it’s a bit much.”
A hand went up from inside the crowd and Parker said, “Excuse me. I have to get my wife out of there.”
Seconds later, Kimmie emerged holding his hand. She appeared drained. Jennalee wondered what it felt like to carry a person around inside you, even a tiny one.
She was relieved to reach Building Eight, more so when she saw Harley sitting on his father’s motorcycle. He wore black jeans, boots, and a blue shirt that made him look nearly hunky. She approached slowly, taking in the sight, and when he saw her, he laughed. She perched on the seat beside him and he ran a hand over her hair. “What’s this?” he asked.”
“Just got tired of it long. What do you think?”
“Looks cool, literally.”
“Thanks.”
The big motorcycle was on its side stand so their feet were on the ground, more leaning than sitting on the bike. “You hungry?” Harley asked. “Because I’m starving.”
“I’m starving, too.”
Just then Earl and Lizann came out, both in their leather jackets. Jennalee nudged Harley. “Jackets? In this heat?”
“True bikers always dress.”
They hopped off the motorcycle and Earl got aboard, started the engine. This caused a drape to yank back next door, followed by a door thrown open. Noel Sutherland strode out to occupy his little porch like some general commanding things by his presence alone.
Harley climbed on behind his father while Lizann called, “Lee, here behind me.” She also started up her bike, which caused Noel to stiffen and shake, as if a motorcycle were about to run him over. Jennalee donned a helmet and, as the motorcycles drove away, Noel kept his disapproving frown. She watched until he was out of sight, wondering what he’d be like to poor Phyllis when he went back inside.
Soon the little party was riding slowly along the winding path, heads turning. Jennalee liked not only being seen with the Laidlaws, but seen on this motorcycle, as well. She basked in a new sense of freedom, shaking her head to savor not having hair blowing into her face.
Malvern proper was less than two miles from the inn and Jennalee enjoyed the warm breeze the motorcycle created. She felt it tug at her face, water her eyes, and she held up a hand to catch still more, her equivalent of a dog with head out a car window. At McDonald’s, they turned in and parked. “Burgers, fries, and Cokes?” Lizann asked.
Jennalee said yes and Lizann went in for food while Earl stayed on his bike. Harley got off and came to Jennalee. “Enjoy the ride?”
“I love it. Manmade wind.”
Soon Lizann returned with two large bags of food and drink. She handed one to Harley, one to Jennalee, then got onto her motorcycle and started the engine. Again heads turned. Again Jennalee felt a silent giggle roll through her.
Sanders Park wasn’t all that different from what lay beyond. Lawns, green in pre-drought times, were now a trim yellow flat version of the rolling gold hills in the distance. Picnic tables and a parking lot told you it was officially a park, but Jennalee thought you could sit on a hillside and get the same effect. There was one big difference, though. A large flatbed truck sat on what looked to be another parking lot at the far end. Men scurried about, fireworks men. Barriers circled them for a good fifty feet to keep people a safe distance.
The Laidlaws parked at the end of a row of cars, motorcycles having an advantage in this. Lizann then opened the little trailer behind Earl’s bike and took out two sleeping bags, which she unzipped and spread out under a modest tree. Picnic spot created, she unpacked dinner. Bigger trees were already populated with people underneath, blankets, ice chests, lawn chairs. Apparently people kept in the shade until dark, then moved out to watch the show.
As the Laidlaws and their guest settled onto the sleeping bags to circle the food, that guest tried to recall her last picnic, but all she could think of was a concert in San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park which was all crowds, noise, and the smell of pot. This wasn’t even a miniature version, being so tranquil. The only noise was children playing on swings and slides off to one side. Jennalee wondered how many Sutherlands were over there. Did Sutherlands even do fireworks?
Partway through a burger, she asked. “Do most of the Sutherlands come over for the show?”
Earl issued a kind of snort while Lizann sighed. “The ones with young children will come over, but that’s all.”
“Parker and Kimmie will be here,” Harley said. Then, reconsidering, he added, “Maybe not, though. I didn’t tell you, Mom. Kimmie told Melody about the baby being a girl and you know Melody told the world, so there was all this fuss. Kimmie may be in hiding.”
“Poor thing,” said Lizann. “I don’t think Parker fully warned her what she was marrying into.”
Jennalee stuck to her burger after this, enjoying the easy exchange between Harley and his mother. She had the same attitudes he did, saw the family in the same light, and his laugh was like hers. Earl hardly said anything. He seemed to enjoy getting as close to a nonentity as possible.
After the burgers were gone—Jennalee had two, which surprised her—and everyone settled in to enjoy dusk coming on, Harley suggested a walk. “We’ll meet you at the bikes after,” he told Lizann, who nodded. Jennalee sprang to her feet, elated he wanted to get off by themselves.
“Your mom is great,” she told him. “Just so cool, so laid back.”
Harley chuckled. “Until somebody crosses her. You should see her in action, if somebody does wrong to her or anybody in the immediate vicinity. No crap allowed.”
“She’s so sure of herself.”
“The rock of our little family. I think some of the Sutherland women secretly envy her. They’re all so locked into appearances and she doesn’t care about that. I really admire her.”
“It shows.”
Lacking a winding path, they strolled across the yellowed grass. Jennalee looked for familiar faces among the children but found none, though this didn’t mean they weren’t Sutherlands. That family was ridiculously large.
She and Harley were going along in silence when somebody called his name. “Over here.”
Jennalee looked at a picnic table where a dark-haired guy stood to beckon them his way. It was Troy.
They headed toward the table where others sat, Jennalee’s mind stuck on Troy being the gay one. And Carl, she saw as they got closer. And who else? Anita. Vaughn’s Anita.
“Anita?” she said to Harley as they closed in.
“She’s Troy’s mom. Looks like they brought her out for some fun. Good idea. She could use a break from Vaughn.”
Anita looked a different person than the one who’d made such scenes earlier. Her hair was nicely styled, her makeup good, and she was smiling. Jennalee decided this change was due to Vaughn’s absence.
“You remember Lee,” Harley said by way of introductions. “Lee, you met Troy and Carl, an
d of course, the lovely Anita. Hello, Anita. I’m glad you came out for the show. Always a good one.”
“Harley, you’re so sweet,” said Anita. “Lee, please sit down.” She patted the bench beside her, so Jennalee sat.
“Are you here with your parents, Harley?” Anita asked.
“Didn’t you hear the motorcycles, Mom?” Troy asked. “They rode in about an hour ago. You can always tell when the Laidlaws arrive.”
“I keep telling Troy we should get a bike,” Carl said, “but he won’t have it.”
“You’d kill yourself,” Troy said, nudging his partner. They were lightly dressed, in tees and shorts.
“We loved your playing at brunch,” Carl said. “Especially that fast stuff during the fight. What was that?”
“Chopin Études. He’s my favorite composer and the one I played, the one that sort of gallops, is called The Horseman. I chose that due to all the action.”
Both men laughed and Troy said, “You fit right in.”
A veritable feast sat upon the table, and Harley and Jennalee were invited to eat all they wanted. “We had McDonald’s,” Harley said, “but that salad looks good.”
“Help yourself.”
“Where’d you get all this?” Jennalee asked.
“We picked it up at Steerman’s, that big restaurant in town,” Troy said. “We do it every year, order a meal and they pack it up for us, even though they technically don’t do takeout. The Southerland way. Grease the wheel and it shall turn.”
“Oh, Troy,” said Anita, chuckling as she gave him a light slap on the arm.
Harley dished up a plate of salad and, without asking, did one for Jennalee. “After all that beef, we need greens.”
“This dressing is incredible,” Jennalee couldn’t help saying. “And these veggies, I’m in heaven.”
“Steerman’s never fails,” offered Troy.
As she ate, Jennalee enjoyed listening to family exchanges, picking up bits about Harley’s competitions and plans. It became apparent this part of this branch of the family was a nice part. Anita, in welcoming surroundings, seemed to blossom, and Troy made every effort toward warmth, as did Carl. Vaughn seemed the sole exception. It was too bad that, at the end of the day Anita had to return to him.
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