Juniper Limits (The Juniper Series Book 2)

by Lora Richardson

  “Yes.”

  “And…” I wrapped my jacket tighter around my chest.

  “Tell me.”

  “Dad got drunk last night. Didn’t come home until the wee hours of this morning.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is that why you didn’t go home at curfew? A little bit of payback?”

  I shrugged. “Nah. No one will notice I’m not home.” Fay’s face turned sympathetic, and I sighed. I didn’t want pity. “Hey, I know. Let’s go sneak in Esta’s window.”

  Fay, used to my rapid gear-switching, jumped to her feet and held her hand out. “At first I hated your fascination with windows-as-doors, but now I’m into it.”

  I grabbed her hand and she pulled me up, and five minutes later, we stood below Esta’s window, out of breath because we’d run the whole way. We laughed our heads off when Esta’s bleary, confused face appeared behind the glass.

  She lifted the window and stuck her head out. “What’s going on?”

  “We missed you,” Fay said. Earlier in the day, we’d all worked a shift together at Heidi’s. We tried to talk Esta into coming with us to Malcolm’s, but she’d claimed fifth-wheel syndrome.

  “Yeah. You never come out with us,” I panted.

  “Have you guys been drinking?” She squinted at us.

  “We’ve been drinking slushies. Are you going to let us in or not?”

  Esta sighed and stepped back from the window. “Fine, but for the love of all things holy, be quiet.”

  I made it in gracefully enough, but Fay, less practiced than I was, tumbled in the window and cracked her head on the corner of Esta’s dresser, landing in a heap on the floor. She groaned in a whisper, which made Esta and I erupt in giggles.

  No sooner had Fay sat up, when Esta’s door burst open and her dad stood there in nothing but his boxer shorts. “What is going on in here?” he bellowed, and flipped on the light.

  “Hi Mr. Nichols,” I said, and waved feebly as my eyes adjusted.

  “Oh, it’s you.” He rubbed a hand down his face.

  “Dad, just go back to bed. Everything’s fine.”

  “Girls, it is after one in the morning. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to call your parents.”

  “No, it’s okay. I don’t have a curfew, and she…doesn’t have one tonight,” Fay said.

  Mr. Nichols looked at us gravely, trying to discern if Fay was telling the truth. He also suddenly seemed to realize he was standing there in his underwear. “Just get on home, alright?” he said, and awkwardly backed out into the hall, shutting the door behind him.

  I glanced at Esta, who looked sort of sad. “He thought a boy was sneaking in here. He wouldn’t have burst in half naked if he knew it was you,” she whispered.

  “I wish it was Bennie who climbed in your window,” I said. Esta had discovered Bennie at school, and had developed a strong affection for him. Unfortunately, Bennie had discovered Molly.

  “If I have to live the consequences of my sister’s teenage pregnancy, it’s too bad I don’t actually have a boy sneaking in my window. “You know what? I am going to sneak out. For more than a year I’ve done the time, I might as well do the crime.”

  Fay laughed and sprawled out on the floor, getting comfortable. I sat down beside her.

  “I’m serious. Next time you do something, I’m coming. Right out my window. You’re going to be amazed.”

  A loud thump echoed through the wall, follow by a shout. “Good night, ladies!”

  Esta motioned with her hands for us to get moving. Fay and I got up and scrambled out the window.

  Safely on the grass, Fay looked up at Esta in the warm glow of her bedroom. “Celia’s birthday. That’s when we’ll sneak you out. I don’t know what we’ll do yet, but something good.” Then she linked her arm with mine, and we took off down the streets of Juniper.

  We stood on Fay’s porch, the light from the front window showing me her furrowed brow. “Mom’s never up this late.” She turned the knob and walked in quietly, and I followed close on her heels.

  Abe lay sprawled on the couch, his mouth slightly ajar as he slept. I heard soft voices from the kitchen. Fay must have heard them too, because she smiled and stepped in that direction. I grabbed her jacket sleeve before she could make too much noise, and tilted my head to the hallway beside the kitchen. “Let’s listen.”

  She frowned at me, but let me lead her around the edge of the room, and we stopped in hallway where we could hear without being seen.

  “There’s plenty of room here. You know Fay and Celia would love to share a room again,” Olive said.

  Fay looked at me, a mock-horrified expression on her face. I put my hand over my mouth to stifle my laugh.

  “And what? You and I will share a room, too?”

  “I don’t see why not. We did it until you married Todd and moved out.”

  “And we fought terribly,” Mom said. They both laughed softly, likely remembering arguments past. It was quiet for a moment.

  “I don’t want you to go back there, Donna.”

  Mom sighed. “I am twisted up in knots. Nights like last night are rare.” More silence. They communicated in looks, a lot like Fay and I. Words weren’t always necessary. “Todd still writes me love notes, can you believe that?”

  “That…no, actually. I’d never have thought so.”

  “I have shoeboxes full. Mostly they’re just little scribbles, hearts on a scrap of paper, that kind of thing. I found a good one in his sock drawer last week. It said, Boo! Thanks for keeping my socks white as a ghost.”

  Olive chuckled. “Oh, wow. He’s in the holiday spirit.”

  “No kidding. He even drew a little ghost on it.” Mom sighed again. “He’s always been goofy like that, and I’ve always liked it.”

  “It’s complicated,” Olive said. “I get it.”

  “It’s hard to think about leaving, instead of thinking about helping him. It doesn’t feel right.”

  “It’s not what you want, but maybe it’s what you need. And what the kids need. And maybe even what Todd needs.”

  There was no response, so I could only assume Mom had nodded.

  I could feel Fay’s eyes on me in the dim hallway, but I kept my head turned away from her.

  “Don’t give a second thought to the money,” Olive said. “That part will take care of itself.”

  “I did see the gas station is hiring.”

  I pointed to the living room, and Fay nodded. I tiptoed to the door, and we both stepped outside onto the porch. Fay didn’t say anything, but simply put her arms around me and squeezed me tight. I squeezed her back, and then slipped into the darkness toward home.

  25

  Paul pulled open the front door, revealing Celia standing on his porch. “I just walked you home from the restaurant an hour ago.”

  She smiled. “Is it okay if I missed you?”

  “It’s more than okay.” He grabbed her hand and led her into the house.

  “Is your mom home?”

  “She is, but she’s already in bed.”

  Her brow furrowed. “It’s only eight o’clock.”

  Paul shifted from foot to foot and avoided her eyes. “It means we have the living room to ourselves.” He squeezed her hand and they sat down on the couch. “I’m glad I don’t have to wait until tomorrow to see you.”

  She was quiet a minute. “Paul? I did miss you, but I also just needed to get out of the house.”

  He propped one foot up on the coffee table and leaned into her, resting their joined hands on his thigh. “Any particular reason?”

  “Um…” Her voice shook and she swiped underneath her eyes with her free hand, unable to finish her thought.

  He flipped her hand over and looked at the lines running across her palm. He traced his finger over the one closest to her fingers. “This is your worry line. See how it’s made of several lines laced together?”

  She bent her head over her palm and nodded, a true smile o
n her face this time.

  “It’s twisted up like a rope. That means you’re worrying about something.”

  She pressed her palm to his and entwined their fingers again, resting their joined hands on the couch. “Am I that easy to read?”

  “It was right there on your palm.”

  She shoved his leg with hers.

  After a minute, he asked, “What happened tonight? At your house?”

  She scooted down low enough to rest her head on his chest. “More of the same.”

  Paul wrapped both arms around her and held her tightly. Her breath warmed his shirt.

  “Your birthday’s in a few days. You’ll get to make a wish.” He pulled her palm toward him again. “And look, your birthday line is long and curved, and that means it’s going to be a perfect day. Can I give you your present now? I don’t want to wait.”

  She laughed, and then nodded. “If you really can’t wait.”

  He hopped up off the couch, and came back with his hand behind his back. He sat down facing her. “Close your eyes.”

  Celia squeezed her eyes shut, freeing him to gaze at her face without her asking him what he was staring at. He must have stared a little too long, because after a minute, she said, “Paul?”

  He grasped her right wrist and turned her hand. She opened her fingers, and he set the box on her palm. She curled her fingers around it, and opened her eyes, smiling at the pink wrapping paper. “Now, it’s not like something Malcolm would give Fay. I don’t have any talent for making things.”

  “I don’t want you to be like Malcolm. I want you to be like you.”

  “Well, that’s good. If I were Malcolm, your parents would never let you be here with me.”

  “Paul, you know me well enough by now to know that I do what I want. I don’t care what my parents think.” Her eyes darted to the cuckoo clock on the wall, and she studied its gaudy features.

  Actually, he knew her well enough to know that wasn’t true. She did care what they thought. She didn’t want to, but she did. She may say she did what she wanted, but he knew she walked a tightrope, trying to keep everyone happy, and her own happiness often came last.

  “They don’t know you’re here, do they?”

  She shrugged. “No.”

  He leaned over and kissed her forehead.

  She squirmed in her seat, shifting the present from one hand to the other, until she blurted, “Aunt Olive invited us over for cake after dinner on my birthday, and I want you to come.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “Me and your family in the same room?”

  “Yes, you big dope.”

  This was a huge deal. “They won’t mind? There will be enough cake to go around?”

  “There isn’t enough cake in the world to feed you, Paul. But Olive told me I could invite some friends if I wanted. I pick you.” She shrugged again, her way of telling him not to make a fuss about it.

  “Sure. I’ll come.” He tapped the present with his finger. “Open it. I want to see what you think.”

  She pulled off the pink paper, and revealed that it was a velvet box—the kind from a jewelry store. She glanced up at him, and he wondered what she was thinking. Did jewelry indicate a certain level of seriousness? He hoped so. He hoped it did, and that she let it mean to her what it meant to him.

  She flipped open the lid to reveal a silver chain with a heavy, silver raindrop pendant. She brought her hand up to cover her mouth. She was either horrified or overcome. He spoke before she could. “It’s a raindrop, not a teardrop. Just wanted to make sure you knew that.”

  “I knew.” She touched the drop with her finger and looked up at him. “I knew it was rain.”

  “I think of you when I think of rain.”

  She pulled out the cardboard and released the necklace from it, holding it out and letting it dangle for her inspection. He took it from her and wrapped it around her neck, clasping it behind her and lifting her hair over the chain.

  It rested on her sternum, and she covered it with her palm. “I love it, Paul. I love it.”

  “I’m glad.”

  She reached over and rested her hand on his cheek. She studied his eyes, and he hoped she found what she was looking for. She lifted her mouth to his.

  He enjoyed the kiss for a moment, then pulled back. “I bought you this necklace to tell you something.”

  She fingered the raindrop. “What is this telling me, Paul?”

  “That I think of you when you’re not around. That you’re practically all I think about. That I care about you.” He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck. “That you’ve taken me over.”

  She placed her hand on his chest, pushing him back until he was lying on the couch. “You care about me, huh?”

  He was distracted by the teasing smile dancing around her lips, by her fingers pressed into his chest. “Mmhmm.”

  “I hate to one-up you at a time like this, but I more than care about you, Paulie. I love you.”

  She leaned over him and the ceiling spun above him, and her body came to rest on top of his. She put both her hands in his hair, and her lips on his lips, and he murmured against them, “I love you, too. I do. I love you, Celia.”

  26

  I brushed my fingers through Fay’s hair, parting it at the crown to begin a French braid. “I understand now, why you didn’t spill every detail about things with Malcolm.” She didn’t say anything. “I can hear you smiling,” I said, and her shoulders shook with laughter. “Now sit still so I can braid.”

  “Sorry, I’ll behave.” She straightened her back. “Some things defy words.”

  “Yes.” My fingers flew as I weaved her hair. All day at school she’d smiled at me in the halls, saying, “Happy birthday!” each time we passed. After the last class, she was waiting at my locker and said I was acting distant and weird and that she was coming home with me after school.

  I was distant, and floating farther away as each minute passed, lost in my own cloudy head. I hadn’t told her that Paul and I loved each other—that we’d said it and meant it. I’d shown her my necklace when she demanded to know why I was so spaced out. That was all it took. One look at that necklace, and then one look at my face was all she needed to know what was up. “Paul.”

  I had nodded. “Paul.”

  I finished her braid, handed her a mirror so she could see it, then immediately combed my fingers through it to start something new. “Hey, I liked that one,” she said.

  “Nah, it wasn’t right. I’m thinking of a braid all around the base of your head.” I grabbed some hair by her ear. She had the best hair to play with.

  “Sorry my mom is having the family over. She just thinks sixteenth birthdays are special. I don’t think she gets that you might rather hang out with friends.”

  “It’s not like I was going to have a Sweet Sixteen party or anything.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Nothing, but don’t make plans for Saturday night.”

  I looked down at my cousin’s blonde hair wrapped around my fingers, and my heart about burst. “I don’t need two parties, Fay.”

  “Yes you do, especially when one is given by my mother.”

  I smiled. “Tell me this, though. Your mom’s not making the cake, is she?”

  Fay laughed. “No, don’t worry. She’s picking it up at a bakery right now.”

  “That’s a lucky break.”

  She pinched my calf, but I just laughed. “Um, Fay? There’s something I didn’t mention.”

  “You terrify me, Celia. I never know what you’re up to.”

  “Oh calm down.” I reached for some bobby pins and tucked the ends of the braid under, pinning it to her head, and patting it to make sure it was secure. “There, we’ll keep this one.”

  “What did you do, Celia?”

  “I might have invited Paul.”

  She turned to face me, her eyebrows sky high and her mouth han
ging open. “To dinner here, or to cake at my house?”

  “Just cake.”

  A smile broke across her face, and she put her hands on my knees. “That’s perfect. I don’t think you need to worry at all.”

  I sucked in my bottom lip, thinking of how Dad was throwing out his promises along with empty whiskey bottles. “Yep, I’m sure it will be fine.”

  Fay pushed off my knees to help her stand. “I better go home and make sure Mom remembered candles. Thanks for doing this.” She patted her hair. “I’ll see you at my house in a couple hours.”

  Three hours later, my birthday dinner rested on our good dishes, congealing as I stared at it from the doorway of the dining room. Mom bustled around in the kitchen, and I had no idea what she could be doing because every inch of that room was spotless. Abe sat on the living room couch with his arms crossed and his nostrils flared.

  “Let’s just eat,” he said, for about the tenth time.

  “No,” Mom said from the kitchen.

  “Why should we suffer because he’s late?”

  Mom walked out of the kitchen and across the dining room, and stopped right in front of him. “We do not eat birthday dinners if one of us is missing. We are waiting for your father, and do not ask again.”

  He got to his feet and stomped to his room. Mom looked at me as though expecting me to commiserate with how exasperating he was being. I just looked away, because frankly, I was with Abe on this one. She went back to the kitchen, and a minute later, Abe stomped back out, holding a flat, rectangular present, wrapped in the comic pages of the newspaper.

  He spoke through gritted teeth. “I bought this with my own money, so it doesn’t matter if Dad’s here to see you open it or not.”

  I took the present from him, but sighed. “Abe.”

  He hung his head. “I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be grouchy on your birthday. I’m trying not to be.”

  I pulled him to me, startled to see that he was as tall as I was. “You’re getting too tall, Abe.”

  He nodded fiercely. “I’m trying to do that, too.”

  I tucked my smile away and let go of him. “I’ll open it now.” I went to the couch and he followed. “Where’d you get money to buy me something?”