I’m not sure what to say, so I just squeeze his hand.
“I want you to love me, but I’d rather not die.”
“I love you.”
He closes his eyes and makes a loud, obnoxious croaking sound. I start laughing and don’t stop until he quits playing dead and kisses me.
On my way home from St. Mary’s Hospital a week later, I hear the muffled tune of “Shut Up” and dig into the depths of my Pucci tote. It takes me two years to find the damn thing, this bag is so big. I’m so going back to my Old Navy satchel. It may be cheap and out of style, but at least I know exactly where everything is in it. I hold the phone to my ear.
“How’s Alex doing today?” Natalie asks.
“Oh, he’s okay. I mean, he’s pretty banged up and can hardly stay awake to finish a sentence, but the doctors expect him to make a full recovery. He’s going to make it. And that’s what matters.”
“Are you two engaged yet?”
I snort. “Hel-lo? We’re only sixteen.”
“Fine, then. Have you two done the deed yet?”
“In the hospital?” I ask, mortified that she’d even think that.
She laughs. “Noooo. Before—when he spent the night at your house. You know, the night before the accident?”
“Natalie! That’s so none of your business.”
“I thought so.”
“I didn’t say—”
“Whatever. Anyway, Fuchsia and I are driving up to visit him tonight. Do you want to come?”
“Yeah, cool.” I pass a billboard with a Vail Hot-Air Balloon Fest advertisement. A girl I’ve never seen before is the model, and she looks amazing.
Chase and his buddies are splayed out on the living room floor. Looks like they’re watching that Dukes of Hazzard movie. “Hey, dork! Get the hell out of the way!” Chase yells at me as I dodge a shower of Barbeque Pringles.
“Nice Mickey Mouse shirt, Chase. Did Dad get you the ears to go with it?”
All’s back to normal on the home front.
I venture into the kitchen and find Mom nuking an all-in-one meal. She’s wearing a Tinker Bell T-shirt and capris. I grab a Diet Coke out of the fridge and perch on a barstool, waiting for her to get off the phone. She’s laughing and sighing and really into her conversation. Who’s she talking to?
Five minutes later, after I’ve finished my drink and helped myself to a nectarine, she says, “Yes, she’s here. Oh, really? Well, you know I love surprises. Okay, see you in a little while,” and hangs up.
“Who was that?” I ask.
“Mother.”
“Oh? So since when do you two talk on the phone?” Okay, so maybe not everything’s back to normal.
She nods, smiling wistfully. “After all these years of being so distant, she’s suddenly reaching out. It’s nice.”
Pumpkin scurries into the kitchen and sits up between us, sticking up his little front legs and wagging his tail. “Do we have any more of those doggie cookies you get at the bakery?” I ask, knowing good and well what the little pooch is after.
Mom rummages around in a brown paper sack and presents Pumpkin with his favorite treat. Pumpkin snatches it up and dashes over to the pantry to eat while Mom fills the cookie jar with the remaining treats.
“How’s Alex doing, by the way?” Mom asks, her eyes full of sympathy.
“Fine. The doctor thinks he might be ready to go home in another week or two. He should be able to start school with the rest of us.”
“That’s great. What a horrible accident. He’s lucky to be alive.”
“I know.”
“Oh, I almost forgot. Someone from your talent agency called and wants you to be a hostess at Rob McGee’s parking-lot sale Saturday morning.”
“Okay, I’ll give them a call back.” I’ll have to decline, seeing as how that’s my day to volunteer at the PAD.
Pumpkin starts barking up a storm. I peek out the kitchen window. Sure enough, Grandma’s Lexus is creeping up the driveway.
I run out to the front room to greet her. “I brought snickerdoodles,” Grandma Perkins says. She’s wearing a long gypsy skirt and a wrap blouse. She looks lovely. But seeing her as a non-Siren still floors me. Chase and his friends grab the bag of cookies like it’s the latest issue of Playboy. “Wait!” She snatches the bag out of Chase’s hands, takes out a freakishly large one, and hands it to me. As I take a bite of the cinnamon-sugar cookie, it occurs to me that my grandma is acting like a regular grandma.
“Mother! You’re staying for dinner, right?” Mom calls from the kitchen. “It’s nothing as fancy as what you’re used to, but we’d love to have you.”
“It would be my pleasure,” she says, setting her mondo Gucci handbag on the tile floor. Then she whispers in my ear, “She hasn’t seen me now that I’m not a Siren any longer. Will you be a dear and come with me for moral support?”
I nod and follow Grandma Perkins into the kitchen.
“Hi, Mother,” Mom says, drying her hands on a dish towel and coming at her in hug mode. She stops short and looks Grandma up and down, her brow furrowed. “You look … different. Is everything okay? Are you … sick?”
Grandma does that new little laugh-snort thing. “Couldn’t be better, dear. I just went on a little vacation and got a bit of R and R.”
My mouth suddenly dry, I grab the can of soda pop I was drinking earlier and take a quick swig. Only the can is empty, so I get a new one out of the fridge. “Don’t you just love her hair, Mom? I was always telling her she should try out the natural look. It’s all the rage, you know.” I smile at Grandma and see that Mom is smiling too.
“Yes, she looks wonderful,” Mom says. “So, what glamorous hot spot did you go to this time?”
Grandma’s gaze lowers, making her look almost bashful. “Nebraska.”
I start choking and Diet Coke comes through my nose. Ow! (Warning: Don’t try this at home.) “What the heck for?” I ask when I get ahold of myself.
“Well,” Grandma says, settling herself onto a barstool. “I wanted to get something special for your mother.”
The doorbell chimes. Grandma taps her Cartier watch, her eyes twinkling. “Ah, right on time. Well, Merrilee, are you just going to stand there, or are you going to answer the door?”
Mom gives us a weird look and then heads for the foyer. “What is it?” I whisper to Grandma as we follow Mom.
“You’ll see.”
Mom swings open the door and just stares at whomever’s on the other side. Finally, she says, “Can I help you?”
“Merrilee?” a man’s voice asks.
Then Grandma Perkins steps in. “Merrilee, this is your father.”
Oh my God! This is crazy!
Mom looks at Grandma and then looks at the man, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Are you going to invite him in?” I ask, tagging on a nonverbal hint, hint.
Mom laughs. “Of course, how silly of me! Sorry, I’m just, well, um, this is quite the surprise, is all….”
As her father (my grandfather!) comes inside and introduces himself as Harvey VandenHout, it’s obvious they’re related. I mean, he’s got the same brown frizzy hair and the same pale skin. He’s about six feet tall and, by the size of his biceps, obviously works out. You know, he’s actually quite handsome for an old guy. And what’s more, he and Grandma make an adorable couple.
“Why don’t you two start getting acquainted?” Grandma says, escorting them into the living room. Once my mom and her father are sitting down, Grandma gestures for me to come with her. I take her arm and she leads me to my bedroom.
“Really, Roxy. You should keep your room cleaner than this. This is disgusting.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ll work on it.” More like, I’ll use my Siren powers on Chase again. He was such a fabulous room-cleaner. “So, what’s the story, Grandma? How’d you find Harvey?”
“I’ve known where he lives all along.” She sighs and plops down on my bed. I sit down beside her. “It’s just that I was af
raid to bring him back into my life because I was afraid of falling in love with him. But you already know that.”
“And now that you’re not a Siren anymore, you are free to fall in love!”
“That’s right, dear. But first and foremost, I did it for your mom. You were right. It wasn’t fair to keep her father a secret from her. She deserves to know him. He’s a wonderful, wonderful man.”
“And kinda cute, too,” I say, playfully elbowing her in her ribs.
“Oh, yes. He’s aged very nicely indeed!”
“And I’m sure he’s thinking the same about you.”
We giggle and then hug.
“Gertrude! Roxy! I’m supposed to tell you dinner’s ready,” Dad calls from the hallway.
“Be right there!” I say.
“But first …” Grandma reaches into her handbag and pulls out a gift box. “This is for you, dear.”
I take off the bow and stick it on my head, and then rip the paper off. Oh my God. It’s a Barbie. And not just any Barbie, it’s “Band Girl” Barbie. I open the box and take her out. She even comes with a music stand, sheet music, and an instrument case. I pry the little black case apart, and inside is a miniature silver flute.
“Happy belated birthday, Roxy.”
I’m sitting under a tree in my front yard, winding an elastic band around my hair in a makeshift ponytail, when Natalie’s yellow Sportage pulls up the driveway. It’s a gorgeous mid-August morning, with just a scattering of puffy clouds in the otherwise clear sky. A perfect day for walking dogs.
“Can you believe school starts in just four days?” Natalie asks, passing me a piece of cinnamon gum as soon as I’m in the car. She’s wearing an adorable newsboy hat and an orange-blue-and-khaki-plaid skirt.
“It’s been a crazy summer, that’s for sure,” I say from the backseat. And I have a feeling it’s going to be an even crazier school year. I’m just glad I have my old group of friends to hang out with.
And I’m psyched to have such an amazing boyfriend.
Natalie reverses onto the street and then coasts to Alex’s house. He’s waiting on the stoop, and when he sees us coming, he stands up and starts making his way across the lawn.
I’m on an emotional roller coaster as I watch Alex’s slow progress. First a swell of love for him, then sadness that he’s still in so much pain. Finally, waves of happiness and relief overtake me, because, you know what? It could’ve been a lot worse.
Cautiously, Alex clambers into the shotgun seat. He gives Natalie a peck on her cheek and then turns back and gives my outreached hand a squeeze.
For pretty much the entire fifteen-minute drive to the Pet Advocacy of Denver, Natalie fills our ears with play-by-plays of how Eva came into Jaded and bought hundreds of dollars’ worth of new back-to-school clothes. “… And while I was ringing her up, she kept gushing about what a gift I have for putting outfits together, and these two girls who look exactly like the Olsen twins overheard, and before I knew it, they were requesting me as their personal shopper!”
“Awesome,” I say when she pauses to catch her breath.
“But that’s not all!” Natalie exclaims, pulling into the PAD parking lot. “Sebastian heard the whole thing, and guess what?”
Alex turns back to me and I give him an exaggerated shrug.
“He’s promoting you to manager?” Alex asks.
Natalie pauses, considering this. “No. But he is giving me a fifty-cent raise!”
“We should go to Murphy’s to celebrate,” I say. “Natalie’s treat, since she’s the one raking it in.”
“Okay, I’ll be your sugar mama, but you remember this when you’re a famous model, girl.”
After Alex and I jump out of her car, Natalie waves and leaves for her shift at Jaded.
The Willington House van driver and one of the PAD volunteers are assisting the six women and a Hawaiian-shirted Benjamin as they gradually unload and line up on the sidewalk. A true tour de force, considering all the canes and walkers.
When the old people spot us, some of them wave and some just smile. Except for Rosie, who’s frowning deeply, her wrinkles pooling on her chin. Looks like she’s her grumpy self today. After we greet everybody and introduce ourselves to the four non-regulars, Alex and I lead the colorful polyester parade along the narrow pathway to the PAD’s backyard.
Alex must’ve noticed Rosie’s sour mood too, because he stops to wait for her. “Rosie, what’s the deal? Aren’t you happy to see us?” he asks, holding his arm out to her and escorting her toward the paved walkway.
Her brightly rouged cheeks twitch, but she doesn’t smile. “Of course, Alexander. I’m tickled pink that you’re all right. And I’m glad Roxy has become such a beautiful young woman. But, you see, Deana made me wear these walking shoes and I don’t like them one bit.”
“They look comfy,” Alex says, plainly trying to console her. But I sense a storm, so I hold back in case he needs help.
“Exactly!” she shouts. “That’s the problem. Shoes aren’t supposed to look comfortable. And furthermore, they don’t go with my pants. Whoever heard of wearing white walking shoes with black slacks?”
“Well, Rosie, if anyone can pull it off, it’s you. Your blouse is lovely,” I say into her good ear, gesturing at her black-and-white floral shirt. “Very fashionable. And I’m sure you have a killer shoe collection, but there will be plenty of other opportunities to wear them.”
She sighs loudly, her grimace unyielding. “Yes, I suppose so.”
“What’s this, Rosie?” Eleanor says in her low, scratchy voice. “You butterin’ up these kids so they’ll let you walk the poodle this time?” She winks at Alex and me.
“You got him last time,” Rosie says through pursed lips.
Now Benjamin has caught up to us. He taps his walker by Rosie’s white sneakers and says, “Neither of ya got the cotton-pickin’ poodle last time. He was adopted.” Benjamin starts walking away, muttering, “Damn women, can’t remember nothin’….”
Eleanor’s dark brown eyes glisten. “Adopted? What a lucky dog!”
“I know how he feels,” Alex whispers in my ear as he wraps his arm around my waist. I can’t help but blush.
Alex and I wait until everybody makes it to the section of benches by the walkway, and then we head inside the building to help the PAD folks leash today’s dogs. He takes my hand in his, and a zing of electricity zaps through my body.
“So, how does it feel?” Alex asks.
“It makes me want to run back behind that bush over there and do more than just hold hands,” I blurt.
He gives me this really weird look and I bite my lower lip. Have I said something wrong? Am I being too forward? Is there a rewind button?
Alex’s eyebrows eventually return to their normal position and he lets out a big laugh. “I was talking about being back at the PAD.”
I’m totally speechless. Thank goodness Roberto, the PAD director, interrupts this moment of extreme awkwardness by bringing out the dogs.
“Get back here!” Roberto cries over all the barking and yipping. Though the dogs are leashed, they’re yanking the husky man across the lawn like he’s nothing more than a blowup dummy. Alex lunges forward, trying to grab as many dogs as possible by the collars. But the dogs break free from him, and Roberto can’t hold the leashes any longer.
They’re. Heading. Straight. For. Me.
Alex and Roberto watch in stunned silence as the dogs form a circle around my feet, tails wagging, tongues hanging. I look behind me, and, sure enough, the folks from Willington House are staring in disbelief. How the heck am I going to explain this?
“Must be my new perfume,” I say with a nervous laugh, trying to shake a little white terrier off my leg.
To my relief, Alex nods as if he gets it. “That’s some perfume!”
“Well, it’s just something that I picked up at—”
Before I can babble another word, Alex puts his hands on my shoulders and steers me over to the bush—the o
ne I was talking about jumping him behind. The dogs follow in Pied Piper fashion.
“So what’s going on, really?” Alex asks softly, so no one besides me can hear. “I know it’s not perfume, Rox.”
I sigh. “Okay, you got me. I thought I could get away with it, but you’re too smart a cookie.” I reach into my satchel and pull out a paper bag, swaying it in front of Alex’s face.
He snatches the bag and peeks inside.
“Gourmet doggie cookies,” I inform him.
Grinning, Alex tosses the treats high into the air. The dogs scatter in every direction, chasing and catching the cookies.
Alex cradles my head in his hands and pulls me in for a delicious kiss. The kiss lasts for an eternity, but it’s not nearly long enough.
As time passed, Thelxiepia’s womb grew large with the sailor’s child. This daughter, upon reaching the age of womanhood, found herself not only a creature of spellbinding beauty, but of musical mastery and great power. It is in this way that the legacy of the Siren shall live on, as it does in you.
About the Author
Wendy Toliver earned her BA in speech communication/broadcast from Colorado State University. She’s explored a variety of jobs, from impersonating Marilyn Monroe for singing telegrams to impersonating a computer geek at an advertising agency. Now she calls Eden, Utah, home and lives with her husband, her three little boys, two dogs, a cat, and an occasional mole. When not working on her next novel, Wendy enjoys reading, skiing, snowboarding, acting, volunteering, and traveling. Visit her online at www.wendytoliver.com.
LOL at this sneak peek of
Love, Hollywood Style By P.J. Ruditis
A new Romantic Comedy from Simon Pulse
“I think I’m in a funk,” I said.
“A generic funk or something specific?”
“A guy funk,” I said, taking a bite out of my salad.
“Ah,” she said.
“There seems to be a pattern developing,” I said, finally forcing myself to deal with the thing I’d been avoiding for weeks. “I D-Q’d Dairy Queen guy, slammed the book on the worm I met at Barnes & Noble, and couldn’t even find an interesting way to describe how boring the dude from the surf shop was. All before we even got to a second date.”
The Secret Life of a Teenage Siren Page 16
