Jo knew I wasn’t truly angry because she flicked my earlobe lightly, pestering in a teasing voice, “And?”
Again my words came flowing out. “We went right at it on the dock.” Did we ever. “My knees were full of splinters for days. It was amazing. I wanted him so much.” Want him so much, I mentally corrected myself. At least Jo knew a part of the truth, finally.
“Jilly, don’t beat yourself up,” my sister was saying, misinterpreting my tension. “You know you have a right to be happy.”
I shook my head, knowing what she meant, saying, “It’s not that.” Then again, it was Chris’s birthday today, and I amended, adding, “Well, maybe it is, a little.” But then I clarified, “It was more afterward. Justin was angry at me, actually angry, thinking I was…” My voice trailed off for a second before I finished, “taking pity on him.”
“He said that?” Jo yelped.
“He didn’t have to,” I defended, looking over at her. “When I saw him the next day he was so remote, and when I got him alone he told me I didn’t owe him anything, and that we’d made a mistake.”
“He did?” Jo sounded furious now, and I had a sudden vision of her confronting him, full of self-righteous wrath. “What the hell?”
I hurried on, saying, “He’s protecting himself, don’t you see?”
“Fuck that,” Jo spit out. Then, with a note of wonder, “I would never have suspected in a million years. You guys seem so normal around each other.”
Well, Jo wasn’t exactly the most observant woman in the Davis clan. Plus she’d been so overwhelmed by Blythe. I said, truthfully enough, “It’s been so totally awkward. No one suspects anything, so please don’t say a word.” Well, I couldn’t bet on Gran not suspecting anything.
Jo assured me, “You know I won’t. But I want to punch him. How could he insult you like that?”
“He’s not insulting me,” I insisted, suddenly unwilling to tell her about any of our additional encounters since, namely the night of the golf cart incident. She was too ticked off on my behalf to understand. I explained, “He’s so afraid of feeling something for me that he’s purposely pushing me away.”
“But he could at least listen to you, believe that you meant it,” she insisted. And then, as though with great insight, “It’s all because of his scars.”
Honestly, Joelle. I said, “Well, yeah.”
“Would you want to date him? What would Clint think?” she continued on, studying me.
Date him? I wanted far more than that, but I couldn’t let on at the moment. I knew I she wouldn’t accept me parrying her question so I said, a half-assed way of explaining my behavior in the past twenty-four hours, “I really like him, Jo, and that’s what was freaking me out last night when I was talking about Chris. God, today is Christopher’s birthday, and all I can think about is that I was worried about Justin drinking too much last night.” And, oh yeah, I am in love with him and want to have his babies. And he won’t admit how he feels about me, so I’m totally miserable and want to beat him. And then fuck his brains out. But I couldn’t burden my sister with that much truth.
Jo said then, “That’s all right, you know,” and I knew she was genuinely concerned for me.
I admitted, “All I can think about lately is Justin.” I felt tears in the corners of my eyes as I thought for the millionth time about what we’d shared that first night on the dock. “He was so tender that night, it was so beautiful. We couldn’t get enough of each other, we made love four times.” At least! “And then he held me against him and he smelled my hair. It was so sweet, it was almost more intimate that what we’d just done. I catch him watching me, but when I look back, he looks away.”
“I like Justin a ton,” Jo replied. “I always have, you know. He’s a good guy who’s been through a lot of shit the last few years. But it he can’t acknowledge the truth about how you feel, if he’s that bitter, then that pisses me off. You don’t deserve that.”
But, to be fair, he didn’t know the truth about how I felt. I told her, hedging a little, “The funny thing is, I never would have guessed how much I could like him. He’s been around forever, but I didn’t notice, at least not on the surface.”
Justin, Justin. Goddammit, I love you so much. The more I thought about our past, the more I realized just how long I had known this, and had unknowingly buried it inside.
Jo was saying, “Jilly, if you like him that much, tell him.”
“I’ve been trying,” I said, though to be fair, I hadn’t said the words. I was waiting for him. Dammit. I suddenly realized we were getting close to the exit and asked, “Do you really want to go to Wal-mart?”
“Yes, I need tampons,” my sister responded and despite everything, I giggled.
Chapter Thirteen
A week passed with the usual flutter of June heating into July, both with the weather and with the increase in business as Landon’s busiest tourist season kicked into high gear. And yet despite the bustle, I found moments to both confess to Joelle that I was in love with Justin and confront her about Blythe. She’d been sympathetic about my feelings for Justin and, by contrast, angry at me for expressing my fear about her getting hurt. And she knew that it would come to that, eventually. We were bitchy at each other for a few days, playing the silent treatment, until I couldn’t take it another moment and vowed to confront her and make amends. I bided my time, waiting until late evening, after dinner rush. Clinty had been planning a bonfire all week, inviting two of his best friends over to camp out, and I resolved that there was no better time to talk to Jo. Though I shortly discovered via Mom that Jo had already made plans to go into town and hang out with Leslie Gregerson.
I looked at our mother as she mixed up a pitcher of lemonade for Ruthie, whose own buddies, Liz’s triplets, were tagging along with Dodge for our bonfire. Her hair was in a long braid, drawn over one plump shoulder, her earrings large, neon-yellow hoops. Probably Ruthie had picked them out for her. I studied her familiar face, her sunburned nose and summer freckles, as she bent over the task, and couldn’t help but think, Are you serious? You actually believe that she’s going to meet Leslie? But then I reminded myself that Mom, while loving and dear and whose opinion could always be counted upon, was also less than observant. A free spirit, Great-Aunt Minnie had always called her. Joanie the dreamer.
My sister breezed through the café just then, wrapping the strings of her apron around one finger as she headed into the bar. Ellen was back there, mixing up grasshoppers for the girls, and I followed after a moment, entering just in time to hear Jo lying about meeting Leslie.
“Have fun,” I couldn’t resist chirping to Joelle and she turned and met my eyes with a look of such guilt that I relented slightly. No secrets between us anymore, and on one hand, I was truly delighted for her; shit, she was practically glowing with buoyant happiness, but I feared so much for the fall that was inevitably coming.
“I will,” she said, reassuring me with her tone. Then she added, “Keep an eye on Camille and Ben’s brother, will you?”
I nodded, knowing she was worried about Camille’s sudden relationship with a local boy. At that moment Dodge came banging into the café, calling out, “I’ve got firewood in the truck, heard we were having a bonfire out here tonight! Clint, get out there and help the boy unload.”
Justin. I hadn’t expected him this evening. My heart was all at once radiant with excitement and hope.
Jo gave me a salacious grin and poked her finger into my waist. Her eyes were sparkling at me as she said, “You have fun too, Jilly Bean.”
She headed back over to the house to change, while I darted into the bathroom in the bar, my face suddenly hot and my hands all shaky. He was here to hang out, whatever that meant, after the past week of exchanging heated glances but avoiding me. I yanked off my apron, hearing the girls chattering excitedly with Aunt Ellen as she fired the blender to life again. I regarded myself in the small mirror, then fished my lip gloss from the front pocket of my apron, applying
it carefully, straightening my hair, wishing I had time to run home and shower. But that would look too suspicious, too obvious. I pulled my Shore Leave t-shirt over my head, glad I was wearing my favorite flowered tank beneath it. I tugged the neckline a little lower, smoothed the soft material over my belly and then twisted around to make sure my jean shorts were stain-free after working dinner. They were, and my legs looked tanned and sexy, if I did say so myself. I dabbed again at my lip gloss, ran the tip of my index finger over my lashes and then gathered myself together.
Out at the bar, the girls all had green milk mustaches. Ellen was just disappearing out the screen door with a six pack of beer in one hand. Ruthie smiled at me and said admiringly, “Aunt Jilly, you’re so pretty.”
“Aw, Ruthann,” I told her. “Thanks, kiddo.”
Clint was banging in the porch door then, yelling for me, his voice cracking. Boy, I couldn’t wait for him to outgrow that. He appeared in front of us, looking sweaty and disheveled; I couldn’t help but smile at him.
“Ma, where’s my dive shoes?”
“Look down on the dock,” I told him, while Tish leaped up at the mention of going back in the lake.
“Wait, Clint!” she yelped after him, leaving her mug on the bar. I snatched it and took a long drink of the minty froth.
“Aunt Jilly, do you care if I go with Noah for awhile?” Camille asked.
“Sure, that’s fine, honey,” I told her, hearing Justin’s voice outside. My heart was slapping my ribs.
“Thanks,” she said, and Ruthie finished her drink with a gulp.
“Can I come with you guys?” she asked Camille.
“No, Ruthie, sorry,” her big sister said, and Ruthann pouted.
Justin was inside the café then, just around in the dining room. He called, “Ruthie, you in here? The kids are looking for you!”
Her protruding lower lip disappeared, replaced with a smile, and she raced around the corner. Camille had already disappeared out the porch door, leaving me totally abandoned. I heard Justin greet Ruthie as she darted outside. His footsteps were advancing towards the bar, my heart keeping pace, then ricocheting hot blood through me as he appeared in the arch between the two rooms. He pinned me with his dark eyes, leaning one shoulder casually against the wall.
He looked amazing. I hadn’t been alone with him, hadn’t so much as talked with him, since he’d pulled me out of the rain last Sunday, and my heart was insistent that this was way, way too long. His black hair was all shaggy and I wanted to mess it up even more. He was wearing orange swim trunks and a white t-shirt, sunglasses hanging on a cord around his neck. He looked tan and lanky and sexy and dangerous and I wanted to leap across the room and directly into his arms. My breath was coming faster, revving me up to do just that. I sensed that things were about to change and my entire body pulsed with anticipation.
I. Love. You, I thought intensely, projecting it into the air with all my might.
“Hey,” he said. His voice was all husky. A smile hovered around his lips and then he said, before I could reply, “You’ve got ice cream on your lip.”
Dammit.
He moved towards me, deliberately. Two feet away he stopped and was drinking in the sight of my face just as much as I was his. His eyes stroked over my lips and then back up, and he was grinning now, relishing this opportunity to tease me.
I squared my shoulders and said with as much attitude as I could muster, daring him, “Well, get it.”
His grin deepened and he reached and curled one hand around my upper arm, drawing me close without hesitation. I couldn’t help myself and gasped a little, my heart just about beating through my ribs. He used his thumb to gently swipe my bottom lip, and then leaned back, while my knees almost gave out.
“There,” he said, and then backed away, turning as though to head outside. I was pleased beyond measure to catch the way his voice shook a little on that word, as cool and calm as he otherwise appeared.
I was frozen in place, burning up. At the arch he looked over his shoulder and asked, “You coming or what?”
I couldn’t let him see how much he affected me and so I pulled myself directly together and said, injecting as much sass into my own shaky voice as possible, “I’m coming.”
Still it took me a minute to make my legs move forward. I finished Tish’s abandoned drink with a gulp, then slipped behind the bar to fetch myself a beer, which I held to my forehead for a moment. Outside the air was static and the lake crystal blue in the evening light. I felt a shudder of appreciation ripple through me as I drank in the familiar sight of Flickertail glinting beneath the slanted beams of setting sun. The trees along the water’s edge were backlit in a honey glow; I was just in time to see Mom’s station wagon head out of the parking lot, my sister behind the wheel on her way to “visit Leslie.”
There was intense activity around the fire pit, with Dodge directing operations as usual, his voice booming out. I smiled and watched from my semi-secret vantage point on the porch for a moment; Dodge had Tish, Clint and his buddies setting up two tents while Justin carted more wood from the back of Dodge’s truck. Justin’s arms were bulging with muscle as he deposited another armload, and my stomach danced just watching. Mom, Ellen and Gran were already settled into lawn chairs, sipping from the plastic cups we kept behind the bar. Ruthie and the triplets were arranging a blanket and laying out food. Gran lit a smoke and caught sight of me, where I was spying from above. She beckoned and I moved down the steps, heading over to help Clint stake out his army-green tent.
“Aunt Jilly, Clint says only they get to stay in the tents,” Tish complained, hunkering beside me as I shoved with both palms on a stubborn stake.
Only Tish. In her sweet little soul she was one of the boys and couldn’t understand why Clint would abandon her for his buddies. I said, “Honey, you don’t want to sleep in there with those guys. For one thing, they kinda smell.”
She giggled a little and Clint said, from ten feet away, “I heard that, Mom.”
“You can have a sleepover with me if you want,” I told her. Unless of course someone else was planning to stay the night. I mentally kicked myself, almost giggling at the thought of trying to smuggle Justin up into my apartment with so many pairs of watchful eyes around here.
“Maybe,” she said, slightly mollified, her feather earrings twirling.
“Jilly Bean, would you be so kind?” Dodge called from over by the fire, holding out his mug. In his other hand was the fire stick; I grinned at him with affection. He was like a little boy, obsessed with playing in the flames.
I stood and said, “Sure thing,” taking his mug and darting back inside to refill it with the concoction that made my throat sting just inhaling the fumes. Dodge didn’t drink that often anymore, but when he did it was this moonshine business. I truly hoped Justin knew better; he drank plenty too, though mostly beer.
“Thanks, honey,” Dodge said as I returned outside. I went on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. I saw that Justin had taken the lawn chair beside the one he knew was mine, and my insides were all jittery, my nerves tingling along every inch of my skin. But I sat with what I considered admirable poise, tipping my knees toward him just slightly. Gran, on the opposite side of the fire between Mom and Ellen, caught my eye as I sat back and sipped delicately from my beer, giving me just a flash of a wink before she turned back to Ruthann.
Justin sat with his feet widespread, forearms braced on his thighs. He was two-thirds of the way into a beer himself. As I sat he shifted almost imperceptibly closer to me, too.
“Justin!” my son was calling then, barreling over, followed by his friends. We both looked up and Justin’s lips crooked into a grin; Clint and the boys looked like trouble with a capital T. I could only imagine what they wanted. Clint asked earnestly, “You wanna take us in the motor boat?”
Justin said, “I would but it’s getting dark. We’ll go on the Fourth though.”
Oh, really?
Clint’s shoulders slumped a little but
then he agreed, “All right. But can we go swim, Mom?”
I nodded assent, watching as the three of them, Tish on their heels, went racing down the slope to the lake. Seconds later there were multiple splashes and then laughter.
“Those damn kids said they wanted to learn poker,” Gran commented.
“Gran, no swearing,” Ruthie said. “Remember, you told me to remind you.”
Gran flapped a hand and everyone laughed. I reminded her, “Gran, Clint knows how to play. You taught him when he was seven or so.”
“Jo’s girls don’t, though,” Gran said. “And Clint hasn’t learned a thing from me. He has way too many tells. His face is an open book.”
I giggled.
Ellen said, “Dodge, you watch that big log on the top,” and he groaned and made a playful swipe at her with his fire stick.
“Grandma,” Ruthie told Mom, “we’re gonna run inside and get more marshmallows.” And so saying, she and two of the triplets went running. The third, Fern, instead came bounding over and climbed on Justin’s lap. He grinned and cuddled his niece for a moment, and she requested, “Uncle Justin, tell us about the time when you drove Grandpa’s truck into the store.”
Justin yelped good-naturedly, “How do you know about that?”
Dodge guffawed his big laugh while I watched Justin holding the little one on his lap; I couldn’t help but think about what a good daddy he would be, and how I would be more than happy to give him the opportunity. Then I took a long swallow from my drink and thought, Holy shit, Jillian, slow down there.
Mom supplied, “I remember that. You couldn’t have been more than twelve or so.”
Dodge filled in, “Fern, what happened was I told your uncle that he couldn’t do something, which in this case was get behind the wheel of my truck, and of course the first thing he did was get behind the wheel of my truck.”
“Hey, you left it running,” Justin said in defense. “What did you expect?”
A Notion of Love Page 15
