“You’d know,” Sarah said wryly.
“Well, I’m putting it in context to Frost’s poem. Fitzgerald’s character sees some value to it – the beating.” He paused and smiled. “That sounded masochistic, but I didn’t mean it that way. I meant it in the Judeo-Christian tradition of a little adversity being good for the soul.”
What I really wanted to say was, “How can you just pull a line from a book out of thin air like that?” I held back because I knew he would hate that question. Instead I muttered, “Adversity certainly doesn’t feel very good, even if it’s good for you.”
“No, it doesn’t. I’m officially changing the mood,” Sarah announced. “Good old Billy, he always comes through for me,” She held up her book of Billy Collins poems. “Now listen for a minute,”
“But it is hard to speak of these things
how the voices of light enter the body
and begin to recite their stories
how the earth holds us painfully against
its breast made of humus and brambles”
“Doesn’t that make you feel better?” she asked. “It doesn’t even matter what he’s talking about. Frankly, I can only guess. But we live in a world, we are part of a race, we are possessors of a language that can say that. It makes the world more beautiful.”
“The words might describe things differently, but they are still the same things,” Nathan argued. “If I call it a ‘breast of humus and brambles’, it’s still the same underbrush you’re used to. The words can’t make it something it isn’t.”
“Wrong!” Sarah cried victoriously. “They do change! Words are … they’re like cameras. There’s a million ways to take a picture of the same thing. But only a few have the eye to master it. Only a few people can really see it. And those few can use the camera, the words, to capture it. And when words capture it, and you capture the words, then you own a piece of the world you didn’t have before.”
“I see it!” I said, a frantic pulse in my voice. “I saw what you meant. For a second.”
“God.” I thought Nathan said it in derision until I spun to face him.
“It’s one of those flashes. I saw it, too.” He mused. “Well put, Sarah. A camera.”
Her lips spread into a smile. “Thank you, Nathan. That means a lot coming from you.” Her words seemed to be a benediction on the evening, a close, so I waited for Nathan to stand and tell us good night.
Instead he turned to me and asked, “Do you want to walk halfway home with me?”
The only way to describe how that sentence sounded in my ears is to picture a rabbit in the dead of night. Small and furry, he is nibbling a weed, wrinkling his nose to catch the scent of a predator, aiming his ears to hear the almost silent swoop of owl or hawk. Then suddenly, the world explodes in light and noise and the rabbit raises and freezes in a car’s headlights, because this is something his instincts never prepared him for.
I was that brown rabbit, stunned and immobile. I took far too long to squeak out my hesitant “sure.” Sarah’s eyes widened and for the first time the glint of suspicion flashed in her face. Nathan didn’t wait for the moment to grow more obvious.
“Okay, good. Good night, Sarah. I’ll meet you over here to put the banner up tomorrow.” He sounded professional, relaxed. Not a hint of emotion. The banner was the last decoration we were in charge of. We were supposed to hang it over Main Street at the start of the holiday weekend.
“I’ll be right back,” I mumbled and gave her a quick, baffled shrug before following him. He kept a solid distance, a wall of space between us, his hands crossed firmly over his chest. When we reached the back yard he started to speak.
“You said you think you’ll still be here Saturday. Do you think Claire - sorry, your mom - will come before then?” I couldn’t tell why he cared, if it was me or Sarah he was thinking about.
“Not really,” I answered in a wary voice, careful to sound like I was speaking to someone who meant nothing to me. “My dad is taking her down to Kansas City for the Fourth.”
“But then …?” he looked confused.
“I’ve sort of been looking for flights home, but not until after they’re back. Maybe Monday.”
“But your mom …” he stopped walking and turned to face me, taking a step closer.
I pretended not to notice and kept going, “I don’t think that will work out. I’m getting homesick.”
“Do you mean you’re not going to try to get her here? When Sarah wants to see her? I thought …” he was loping beside me, trying to pull in front of me.
“I’ll talk to her when I get home. I’m going to try to get her to come for the holidays this winter. I think I can convince her.” Nathan’s calloused hand caught my shoulder and I flinched, but stopped. He stepped in front of me.
“Why are you homesick?” He looked guarded, but sincere. A teacher addressing his student.
“No specific reason. I just miss it. I miss my friends. I miss my house. I’m ready to go,” I whispered the last part, refusing to look at him. Refusing to show him.
“Jennifer,” his voice saying my name made my eyes gloss with tears. I blinked several times and managed to command them back to the heartache from which they came. “Won’t you miss …” he cast his eyes around zealously, “the ocean?”
“The ocean?”
“Yes, won’t you miss it?” He passed through the break in the underbrush that led to the beach and I followed him. Not wanting to walk any farther, I sat on the sloping hill that looked down to the water and he joined me.
“I get a little claustrophobic here, actually,” I told him.
“Here?” he asked incredulously, looking out to the endless plain of water.
“Yes, here. I know it’s big, but it’s not like Nebraska. It’s not like the fields.” He turned his curious eyes to me. “Here - this,” I gestured to the waves, “A person feels small. You feel like you live in the shadow of something bigger and stronger than yourself. You feel like the world just ends and you could just drop off, drown. Here, the ocean feels endless.”
I pictured the winter wheat. It would be harvested by now, the muddy field looking like a shorn schoolboy without a cap to hide his bare head. “But in Nebraska, a person feels endless. You look out over the fields and you turn in every direction and there’s nothing to stop you. You feel like the world is just waiting for you to strike out in any direction. When I sit beside my wheat field it encourages me. When I sit beside the water she intimidates me, reminds me that she’s bigger and tougher.”
“You’re plenty tough,” Nathan muttered. “Are you sure you won’t stay? Wait for your mother? Just a little longer?” His words were so soft that I think if I had turned to him, given him my face, he would have kissed it again. Maybe just as an experiment. I shuddered and watched the tide drop her arms full of foam on the waiting beach. I don’t know if it was pride that stopped me, but something kept my eyes trained forward.
“I’m pretty sure, Nathan.” My stomach was diving, but I sat still, waiting for the dizzying sensation to pass.
“But you’ll still come to the rock, right? You’ll stay for the Fourth, right?” He was more open than I’d ever seen. I knew he wanted me to say yes.
I exhaled a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. “Nathan, why do we do this? This back and forth? This pretending?” His eyes widened in baffled innocence, but there was guilt in the set of his mouth. He swept his eyes over the beach, calculations running through his head. As curious as I was for his answer, I knew it wouldn’t be real. He was weighing every word. Every reaction. Lying to both of us, slowly and wisely. I sighed my defeat. “I’ll come see the fireworks.” Before he could convince himself to leave me once again sitting in the night, I rose up. “I told Sarah I’d get right back.”
“Wait. I’m trying,” the words struggled to his lips, but his mind fought harder, tying them to his tongue.
“I know. Good night, Nathan. See you in the morning.” My stomach sank an
d my heart dropped in complaint. My body wanted me to stay, regardless of pride, in spite of reason.
He nodded, something like regret in the set of his chin. This time I left him and made my heavy way back to my home that was not my home.
CHAPTER 36
Ten o’clock Friday morning found me shifting my weight outside the Sturgeon while Nathan tried to obey Sarah’s shouts from the ground on how high to hang the banner. The words on the sign rippled, making a red, white and blue wave on the air that spanned from the brick roof of the restaurant to the top of a light pole across the street. I was following their progress, trying not to look as useless as I felt when a car horn beeped sharply. I turned to see Claudia leaning over Will to call out of his open window.
“Jennifer, we’re going to get some more fireworks. Come with us!” She motioned to the car as Will pulled over to the curb across from me.
“Have to go to the next county. Can’t buy ‘em here,” he said. Michael rolled down the back window manually – the old car didn’t have automatics – and waved at me.
“I’m sort of helping here,” I said lamely, as I stood empty- handed in the middle of the street. It was pretty obvious I wasn’t contributing anything.
“No, it’s fine. It’s already up. Come with us.” Claude insisted. I looked down the street where Sarah was still calling directions.
“Pull the top one more – it’s still a little crooked,” she instructed.
“I didn’t ask Sarah,” I stalled. They were fun to be with, but I preferred to stay closer to home, closer to Nathan.
Claude checked the street for traffic and hopped out of her door, jogging to Sarah. A minute later she yelled, “It’s fine. Sarah says okay.”
“Excellent,” Will said. “You can talk to Claude about the smart stuff,” he winked at me. Claude’s shouting grabbed Nathan’s attention and he looked over the side of the building, first seeing her sprinting down the street, and then my upturned face. As soon as he took in the old, khaki-colored car his eyes narrowed.
“Come on,” Claude commanded and pulled on my ponytail, leading me to the Oldsmobile. The door creaked as Michael shoved it open and I dropped in beside him, out of excuses. I dared a last look up at the roof and glimpsed Nathan’s angry expression.
Just as we neared the turn Haven Lane I said, “I need to stop at the house.” Will glanced in the rearview mirror and made a smooth turn onto the road. I made my excuse nervously, hoping it wasn’t too transparent. “I forgot, but I promised to call home this morning. You’ll have to go without me.”
There was polite arguing as they told me to call in the car or call later, but when Will parked in Sarah’s driveway I apologized again and told them I couldn’t call later. From the porch, Charlie stirred and let out a volley of excited barks before running to me.
Claudia’s lip pushed out in a small pout, but Will smiled at her as I stepped out. “That’s okay. Jennifer’ll be more surprised if she doesn’t know what we’re shooting off.”
“Yes, but then I have to hang out with you boys,” Claudia complained as I pushed Charlie’s head down so he couldn’t jump on me anymore.
“Oh, the horror,” Michael teased her as he pretended to shake with fear. “See you later, Jennifer. You’re going to watch them with us, right?”
“Uh, no. I don’t think so. I’m watching from somewhere else,” I didn’t think Claudia knew Nathan was taking me and since they were not in each other’s good graces at the moment I didn’t want to bring up his name. “But I’m sure I’ll see you around this weekend. Bye guys.” I made a hasty retreat, glad that Sarah had given me my own key. Charlie followed me into the house and I sat on the sofa, relieved by my escape. Not that I didn’t like Claudia’s friends. I liked them much better than Nathan did. I just didn’t feel like the jokes today, didn’t want to be three towns away if Nathan decided to talk. I could tell he was thawing again, slowly melting out of his self-carved ice prison.
I picked up Sarah’s Billy Collins book and searched for the poem she had quoted the night before. Several poems later I gave Chester’s back a stroke and lumbered into the kitchen looking for a snack. I was cutting a slice of pumpkin bread from a small loaf when the sound of an engine rumbled through the open window along with the crunch of gravel of the driveway. I knew it was Nathan and Sarah when I heard her voice over the slam of heavy doors.
“Do you want to come in? You look tired.” She said to Nathan. I paused by the kitchen door, well out of sight.
“I’m not tired,” he answered grumpily.
“Nathan, is it Will again?” Sarah sounded exasperated. “They are just buying some fireworks. They’ll be back soon.”
“He’s always with her, Sarah. Always! I know you don’t think it’s serious, but it is. And I know that Claude thinks he’s a nice guy. Even Jennifer believes that!” His voice rose, spitting out my name in disgust.
“He is a nice guy, Nathan. You really don’t know him,” Sarah’s weary voice came from the porch where they stopped to talk.
“Even you! He’s got a foul mouth. He’s got one thing on his mind.”
“He’s a teenager. And he’s not like he was when you went to school with him. He’s growing up. He’s changing. People change.”
I couldn’t see Nathan’s face but there was a long silence. For a second I worried they would walk in to get a drink and catch me eavesdropping in the kitchen. I edged closer to the back door, ensuring a quick getaway.
“Is that really the problem, Nathan? You think Claudia and Jennifer are going to be seduced at a firework stand? I know you’re protective, but …”
Nathan’s words burst out of him, cutting her off. “Women are tar pits!”
A pause before Sarah asked in a puzzled, almost clinical voice, “Are you quoting?”
Nathan swore and I could imagine the angry set of his face, “No, Sarah. I’m not quoting,” he said it like another swear word. “But you can write it down if you want, because truer words were never spoken!”
“How are we like tar pits, Nathan?” She asked softly, psychiatrist to patient.
“I can’t get free of any of you! My mother can’t take care of herself, let alone four kids. My sisters need me to be their dad. Even you!” he hissed. I imagined Sarah leaning back under the assault of his words. I know I would have.
“What about me?” Her professional voice quivered.
“I worry about you! You’re too smart and good to be alone. So I hear your niece is coming and she loves you and I think I will at least be free of one worry…”
“But what?” Sarah asked, her voice tight with anxiety.
“But I take one step too close and she’s just another tar pit! Another reason to stay where I can’t stay. Another reason to go where I can’t go. Just a tar pit!” he roared.
I slunk against the wall, down to the floor, my heart jackhammering inside my chest, making my pulse throb in my hands and thunder in my ears. A tar pit. A reason. He was stuck by me. I closed my eyes and filled my lungs with a scratchy breath before squeezing my hands into fists.
“You like her,” Sarah said so quietly I almost couldn’t hear.
Nathan didn’t say anything but I would have given anything to see his face, read his answer. I heard Sarah’s murmurs but I could not distinguish any words because the dishwasher burst to life, beginning its timed cycle. Scared by the sudden noise, and terrified of being discovered, I jerked out of my stupor and opened the back door, escaping noiselessly. All the way to the beach I threw paranoid glances over my shoulder, praying they stayed on the porch where they couldn’t see me.
Even the ocean could not still my frantic pulse. My heart beat in jagged contrast to the sea’s slow hiss. A tar pit. Is it strange that I found those words the most beautiful I’d ever heard? Harsh, and wild, and beautiful. Like the cove itself. I don’t know how long it took before my body settled into more natural rhythms and my thoughts started to organize. As soon as I felt calm enough I considered walking in th
e back door and announcing myself, but I wasn’t sure I could face him yet. If I caught him that emotional, he’d likely avoid me for a week. And since I only had a few days left I couldn’t risk it. I decided to stay put, let him go home before telling Sarah I’d decided to stay and spend some time on the beach. I was trying to decide how much time was enough when Nathan appeared suddenly over the ridge. I stood and we both froze, carved statues dropped on a deserted beach.
“What are …” he started but I jumped to the offensive.
“Aren’t you working today?”
“No. Not much. Did you guys decide not to go?” He came closer until we stood ten feet apart, assessing each other. Did he see a tar pit?
“They went. I just didn’t feel like it. I decided to come read on the beach.”
Nathan’s eyes swept the ground. “No book.”
My face blanched. “I left it at home so I’ve just been thinking.”
“You were here all the time?” he asked, a worried note in his voice.
“All what time?” I asked innocently. It was equally satisfying and disturbing to find out what a good liar I was.
“Since they left.”
“Yeah, mostly since they left. I hung out at Shelter Cove for a while. Are you just walking? If you wanted to be alone I can go …”
He continued to walk toward me, “No, I’m just … hanging out.”
“Oh, okay.” I sat back down, interested to see how much space he’d leave between us. He surprised me by lowering himself only a foot away from me.
“Still leaving after tomorrow?” he asked.
“I think so,” I told him. I’d been asking myself that same question. Could I bear to leave right when I knew he felt something for me? Could I bear the angry look in his eyes every time he realized it? “I found a cheap flight Tuesday morning.”
He nodded. “They’ll be glad to see you.”
“I guess.” What mattered more was whether he’d be sad to see me go. “Nathan, about leaving - can I ask you something. Something personal?”
On Little Wings Page 25
