“That’s not a good enough reason, Abby. You have to want to, or there’s no sense to it.”
“Okay, fine. I want to. I want to see the farm. Is that good enough?”
“If you mean it and aren’t just saying it to get me off your back.”
“C’mon, Wills. It’s getting hot sitting here in the sun. Let’s go see the farm, get something to drink, and go from there. I don’t know; I’m just feelin’ a little weird about it, okay? Let’s go.” Abby sat straight up in the seat, motioning with her hands to go forward.
“Okay. If you’re sure.” He looked straight ahead, stepped on the gas, let up on the clutch, and shifted into first gear. The old truck lurched forward like a hopping toad, bouncing Abby across the cab into Will’s shoulder. Abby wondered if every time she came into direct contact with him, it would be accidental and bumpy.
Set way back away from the road, the house and barns looked like miniature buildings, tiny specks of wood plopped down in the middle of the fields of cane. As they approached, five dogs of questionable parentage barked and jumped, falling all over themselves to welcome Wills’ now familiar truck. Their tails were slicing through the air, stinging anyone who might get in the way.
Weathered grey, the house seemed dwarfed by the land and the barn. The porch needed a new coat of paint. The clothesline, supported precariously by two forked poles, held overalls and men’s undershorts alongside a few tattered towels and faded blue work shirts. Wills stopped the truck, climbed out, circled in front, and opened Abby’s door, pulling hard at its rusty hinges.
“We made it!” He noticed her eyes riveted on the pack of dogs. “Don’t worry, they won’t hurt you. They’re all good fellas, really, and besides, you’re with me, and they know better than to give me any trouble.”
Jasper Donaldson stuck his face around the corner of the porch and hollered, “Hey there Wills. Who ya brung out to cheer up the old man?”
“Hey there, Jasper. This here’s Abby O’Malley. We’re just out for a Sunday drive and thought we’d stop by. I’d like to show her around the farm if you don’t mind.”
“Well aren’t you a pretty little thing? I’ll be, boy, you do have a fine eye for a good lookin’ gal. Yipper. I reckon yer thirsty after comin’ down from the city. Another hot one, ain’t it?” Abby and Wills nodded in agreement, pulling their sweaty clothes away from their bodies.
“C’mon in, and we’ll see what we got in the fridge.”
Jasper Donaldson loved company; he’d been living alone for three years. He liked the boy; and if things worked out, well, maybe Wills could take over the farm in a few years and have a family out here.
Inside, the battered boards disappeared, replaced by bright curtains, comfortable furniture and roped rugs. Quilts of every color and design lay on the furniture, some smaller ones hung from the walls. The kitchen was a sunny room immediately to the left of the front entry, with its own doors to the porch and to the back yard. The house was lived in, but it clearly had been well cared for. It could use a good cleaning, but the house had that feeling of welcome one could sense and smell.
“Now just sit yourself right down here young lady, and I’ll fetch us some lemonade,” Jasper said.
“Thank you, Mr. Donaldson.” Abby was feeling at home already. She looked at Wills and smiled, the first time since the trip began. She seemed to relax as soon as she sat down.
“You can call me Jasper, missy. All my friends call me Jasper. And if you’re a friend of Wills here, then you’re a friend of mine.” He chortled as he shuffled off to the kitchen.
Lemonade always tastes better when it’s real cold and the air is real hot. This Sunday was no different. They all sat around sipping their drinks, chatting about their families and the farm. It was like Abby had known him for years. She hopped up and cleared the empty glasses.
“We’re gonna take a tour of the farm. Do you want to come along, Jasper?”
“Not today, son. I got cows to milk in a couple hours and a few chores ‘fore then. You run along and have a good time.”
“I’ll help you when we get back, so save me some chores,” Wills said.
“Can I watch you milk the cows?” Abby called from the kitchen.
“Sho’ nuff. You get back by five and you can even hold the pail.”
“Let’s go then, so we can get back in time.” Abby headed outdoors through the front kitchen door, leaving the men inside.
“For a minute there, I could have sworn Helen was in the kitchen.” Jasper’s voice was shaking. “Mighty fine young lady there, boy. She’ll make some man a good wife, I reckon.”
He looked over at Wills, searching his face for telltale signs and thoughts. Wills stood still, his chest out, shoulders straight. He had his hand on the curtain and stared out the window after Abby.
“Yep,” he said half to himself and half to the old man next to him, “I’ll marry her someday. I can feel it in my bones.”
“Expect yer right, boy. Now go on and stop daydreamin’.” Jasper pushed him toward the door.
Outside, Abby was having quite a time with the dogs. They each wanted her full attention. Her best efforts were not quite enough. She only had two hands to keep them all happy. “You silly pups, I’ll be back later to get anybody I missed.”
“They’ve fallen in love with you already. Can’t say as I blame ‘em,” Wills said.
“Oh, they’re so friendly! You can tell they’ve been loved. We had a dog once that we adopted. He’d been abused by some awful person. It took us months before he’d wag his tail when we talked to him, and longer before he stopped cringing when we reached for him. It was so sad.”
“What happened to him?”
“He died. He was pretty old even when we got him. When I was still pretty young, though, we got Maxine. She was a puppy then, and she probably kept Buster alive a lot longer. We thought she was a boy at first, called her Max. Old Buster got awfully frisky when she...well you know...anyway, she had one litter and then we had her fixed. She’s old now and sleeps a lot, always in my room. Except for Emmy, she’s my best friend, she’s always been there for me.”
“Well, I’ll have to introduce myself next time I come by. But let’s go before we run out of time.” He opened her door again and offered his hand. She took it without thinking.
In that instant the energy sparked between them. Abby looked him square in the eyes. Wills caught his breath and held her gaze. He should have let go of her hand. She should have let go of his. They were both transfixed in the unreal world of first rush, neither wanting to break the spell.
She looked down first, and they both let go. A low cough cleared his throat before closing the door. Abby shifted her body in the seat as close to the door as possible.
Jasper watched from the kitchen window and chuckled to himself. “Yipper, he’s a goner, he is!”
Wills drove around the farm on the makeshift pathways full of sand and potholes. They bounced around like two ping-pong balls in a basket. He finally came to a stop when they reached the Bayou that formed the northernmost boundary of Jasper’s land.
A clearing in the woods emerged with a log table and stump stools tucked in beneath the trees. Like all water in this part of the country, this too was another finger of the Mississippi River. It was about fifty feet across. A crude handmade wooden and rope bridge provided the walkway between dry land and the tiny picnic island in the middle of a runoff stream and the larger body of water. Silvery tentacles of Spanish moss hung from nearly every branch.
“Let’s stop here and sit a spell,” Wills suggested.
Since leaving Jasper’s house, Abby had gradually loosened her grip on the door handle, settling down closer to him, but not too close. Conversation was easier now. The names of his brothers were now familiar, and he knew she moved from Boston at the age of seven, that her father died right after she was born and that her mother was in the war. There was no mention of Jack Mitchell.
To a young man who had lived all
his life within a thirty-mile radius, Abby was a mystery, even more fascinating, more desirable.
Once again, Wills circled in front of the truck to open Abby’s door. When he did, she started to climb out and lost her balance. She fell into his arms as he broke her fall. He held her for a moment before releasing her to the ground. She didn’t resist.
Abby was embarrassed by her clumsiness and sputtered but then recovered. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately. I’m not normally so clumsy,” she said.
“It’s the truck, so high off the ground. Don’t worry about it.” Wills held her hand to guide her over the bridge and the irregular footholds. When they reached the other side, he didn’t let go. He brought her hand to his lips and brushed it with a kiss.
“Mademoiselle, may I show you to your table?” He grinned and bowed slightly.
Abby laughed. It was the first time he had heard her laugh. Music. A full head back genuine laugh, surprisingly robust and lovely. Her eyes sparkled like sand crystals that catch the sun; her lips turned up and transformed her already beautiful face into a vision of joy. He was in love. All he wanted to do was make her laugh again and again, and kiss her and make her laugh again.
They moved closer to the table. Wills reached up for some moss and worked with it until he had made a necklace, which he placed around her neck. A makeshift fishing pole was waiting for him. He picked it up and angled it in the moist ground like Huckleberry Finn might have.
“If we’re lucky, we’ll catch a catfish for Jasper’s supper,” Wills said.
Abby laughed again, remembering out loud the time her grandfather first caught a catfish. “He brought its ugly face and all home to Gramma, and she screamed bloody murder until it was removed from the house. Fit to be tied, she was,” Abby chortled. “To this day, catfish are not allowed in the house without first being properly dressed.”
Abby received instructions about how to hold the pole. Wills sat behind her, rubbing his chest against her back with his arms over hers. He wanted to kiss her neck, but resisted. To save himself, he stood and tidied up the area around the table. No bites on Abby’s pole.
“Catfish can be stubborn,” he said. “Don’t take it personally.”
“Well, maybe next time,” she said. “I guess we better go.”
Wills guided Abby back over the bridge, through the weeds and to the truck. “Let me help you up this time.”
He lifted her toward the waiting seat. He meant to put her down; he meant to close the door. But instead, he curled his arms around her and pulled her down just slightly, enough so her face was a hair’s breath away from his. Looking at her with an intensity that could turn rocks into dust, his eyes asked for permission, his heart pounded beneath his shirt, and sweat trickled down his temples.
Abby didn’t flinch. Her face softened, and her eyes closed. Not wasting a second, he kissed her full mouth, gently, no intrusion. He groaned, and his breathing became uneven. He let her go.
“I didn’t mean to...well, maybe I did. Abby, I’m sorry.” He extended his arms out, holding her away from him, waiting for a reaction.
“It’s okay.” A look of pleasant surprise washed over her face. “I’ve never been kissed before, by a boy, I mean. It was nice. Can we do it again?”
He just looked at her with awe. “Kissing you is what I want to do the most.”
“More than farming?”
“That’s different.” Up she went, supported by his arms. He closed the door, raced around the other side and climbed in.
“Come on over here.” He patted the space next to him and held out his hand.
Abby slid next to him and took his outstretched hands in hers. He kissed her gently, and then gradually opened his mouth searching for hers. Abby pulled back, shocked by the new kiss. He pulled back and kissed her neck. She shuddered in response. Her body became limp as he tried again to kiss her deeply. This time she didn’t resist. This time she relaxed and let him.
Too much was happening to her body; her mind had turned to jelly. He kissed her and kissed her, their bodies were drenched in sweat. Abby’s hair was no longer neatly pinned and ponytailed behind her head; he had released it all so he could run his hands through miles and miles of it. His fingers began searching her body. He rubbed her arms and below her neck.
As he started for her breasts, he stopped abruptly.
Like a freight train screeching to a halt, Wills changed gears. Abby was slumped over his shoulder like a wet noodle.
“What is it? What’s happening?” she asked, suddenly aware of the change in tempo.
“Abby, that was real nice—too nice. If we don’t stop...well, we better head back,” a breathless Wills told her.
“Did I do something wrong?” Abby looked hurt.
“No, I almost did. I nearly took advantage, and that wouldn’t be right.” Wills was looking at her now; he wanted to kiss her again, and she would have let him; he knew it. But it wasn’t right; he knew that, too.
The rear view mirror told Abby what she didn’t want to know. She was a mess, hair everywhere, makeup smeared, a complete embarrassment.
“What will my Mama think of me, lookin’ like this?” Abby finally said.
“Your Mama won’t have to see you lookin’ like anything. You look great to me, but you can always freshen up at Jasper’s.” Wills hesitated and then blurted out, “I’m sorry if I made you do something you didn’t want.”
“No one’s ever kissed me before.”
“I couldn’t help myself. The day I saw you on your porch, I knew I would kiss you. Just like that.” He snapped his fingers in front of her. He leaned over to kiss her nose. She pulled back.
“What does it mean?”
“I dunno what it means, Abby. But I know that I want to see you again. I want to kiss you again. You know how it felt just a while ago? Like we were meant to be together, like we fit?”
“Yeah, that was nice,” she said and smiled, “real nice.”
“Let’s just give it a chance then and see what happens, okay?”
Wills looked at her. She nodded, still smiling, and tilted her head slightly, watching him, wondering what she had gotten herself into.
Jasper was already in the barn when they returned. Abby went in the house to brush her hair and clean up. An hour passed by the time the chores were finished, and by then, it was time to get back to town.
“Y’all come back now, ya hear. I need to see a pretty face every now and then. Keeps my blood movin’!” Jasper waved at them.
“Oh, we’ll be back, Jasper, you can count on it.” Wills flashed his irrepressible smile over his shoulder as he helped Abby up to her seat. “I’ll see you Wednesday.”
Wills and Abby waved from inside the truck, turned the ignition over four times, and rambled down the dusty road. Between shifts, he found Abby’s hand. They both seemed comfortable saying nothing.
Along the road back, Wills stopped the truck in front of a fruit stand.
“Why are we stopping here?” Abby asked him.
“I promised my mother I’d get her some fresh greens on the way home. But you can stay in the truck if you want; I’ll only be a minute.”
Nothing could have prepared Abby for what happened next. Wills emerged from the fruit stand with one armload of greens in a paper bag. Floating above his other arm was a fist full of balloons. Red balloons.
“Here. I had a feeling you might like these.” He handed them to her, watching her face.
Abby looked as though she’d seen a ghost. “How did you know?”
“They just seemed right, that’s all.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek, patted her hand, and started the truck—on the first try.
CHAPTER 14
I can’t understand you Ab. I mean, God! You have a gorgeous hunk in love with you, he’s taking you to his prom, and you’re a wreck. If anything else goes right, you’ll probably have a nervous breakdown!” Emmy was trying to help, but Abby was impossible.
“I know, I kn
ow, but what if the flowers don’t look right, and what if my shoes hurt my feet before the night’s through? Mama spent so much money on me, I hardly made anything babysitting, and besides how could I save with all the things I’ve had to buy lately? I just want it to be perfect, that’s all.”
“Oh yeah, I know what kind of stuff you have to buy, like makeup and records and clothes you wear once before you get bored with them. C’mon Abby, relax. Everything is gonna be great, and I want to hear every single detail of the whole night, so take notes if you have to. Everything, do you hear me?”
“Do you think the dress really looks good on me? And what about my necklace, what should I wear? Oh, this is just great.” Miniature droplets of worry water began to form above her lip.
Excitement did one of two things to Abby. It either sent her into orbit or depressed her. On rare occasions, it did both. On the day of the prom, she teetered on the edge.
Emmy knew the signs. “Aunt Mary, we need you in here.” She knew Mary could calm her, like no one else.
“Oh, my, look at you, so pretty, so grown up. Now what’s all the fuss?” A look of sadness mingled with pride crossed Mary’s face. Small puddles began to form in the corners of her eyes, but she quickly brushed them aside.
“Oh, Mama, what am I going to do? I hate these plastic pearls with my dress! I just want everything to be...”
“Perfect?”
“Yes. Perfect. It has to be, or I’ll just die.” Abby plopped down on her canopied bed, looking defeated.”
“I don’t think so, certainly not on such an important occasion. Wait here. It’s time I gave you something. It’ll be perfect; you’ll see.”
Mary returned with a black velvet box in her hand. Inside could have been the Hope diamond, the way she carried it, with reverence, with grace. Her fingers shaking slightly, Abby’s mother opened the lid.
“Your daddy would have wanted you to have this today. It is the cross he gave me right after we were married.” With slow, deliberate movements, she lifted the cross from its resting place, reached for Abby’s hand and placed it in her palm.
Cross of Ivy Page 11
