Keep Me in Your Heart (39 page)

“I’m all right,” he said.

“Let me see.” She lifted the paper towel. “Scalp cuts bleed something fierce, but I don’t think it’s too deep.”

Lisa returned with a damp cloth and antiseptic cream. The two women hovered over Nathan, making him feel nervous and embarrassed. A little cut didn’t warrant so much attention. After a few minutes they were finished, and Nathan said, “Thanks.”

Jill sized him up. “So you go to school with Lisa.”

It was more a statement than a question, but Nathan said, “Yes, ma’am. I’m Nathan.”

“ ‘Ma’am?’ ” She looked amused. “Don’t call me ma’am, makes me feel old.”

Nathan colored. He’d been raised to say
yes, sir
and
yes, ma’am
. “I—I didn’t mean—”

Jill squeezed his arm. “Why, aren’t you the cutest thing! You’re blushing.” She turned to Lisa. “Hang on to him, honey. Gentlemen are hard to come by.”

“Mother!”

“Well, he is cute,” Jill insisted. “He’s adorable. And just look at those eyelashes. Boys shouldn’t have eyelashes that long. It’s not fair.”

Lisa shot her mother a threatening look. “Don’t you have something to
do
, Mom?”

Jill smiled brightly. “Reckon I can put away the things we bought.” She went over and picked up the sacks. “Now, you come back any time you want, Nathan. Any friend of Lisa’s is always welcome here.” She breezed down the hall.

Lisa waited until a door shut, then turned to Nathan. “You sure you’re all right?”

He saw that she was flustered and he pressed his advantage. “Maybe I should come over tomorrow for a checkup.”

“Don’t push it, Malone.”

He caught her wrist. “Why do you always call me by my last name?”

“First names are too personal.”

“I’ve heard you call others by their first names. Why be personal with them and not me?”

“You ask too many questions.”

He eased her onto his lap, felt her tense up. “I’m not going to bite, Lisa.”

“Why are you here anyway?”

He explained about Skeet and Jodie. “Did you know they liked each other?”

“Sure. Didn’t you?”

“I was clueless.” He rested his hand against the small of her back, felt the warmth of her skin through her clothing. “Did you plan for them to hit it off?”

“No one can plan those kinds of things. But I was hoping they’d like each other. And now they do.”

“So why them and not us?”

She stiffened and her eyes looked shuttered. “There is no us, Malone.”

“There could be.” He got an idea, lifted her up and stood. “Tell you what. Come home with me today. My mother’s one of those Christmas freaks who has to put up a tree right after Thanksgiving. We’ll be decorating it tonight. You can help.” She started to shake her head, but he caught her face between his palms and kissed her lightly. “I’m your patient, remember? You need to keep an eye on me, see to it that I don’t slip into a coma from this nasty head wound I suffered while trying to help fix Charlie’s truck. It’s the least you can do, Lisa.”

“T
ell me, Lisa, have you chosen a college yet?” Nathan’s mother asked at dinner that night. His parents had been surprised when he had shown up with Lisa and announced that she was staying for dinner and the tree-decorating ritual. He’d never brought a girl home for dinner before, plus they’d always done tree trimming only as a family. Karen had eyed Lisa like an interloper and even flashed Nathan a few questioning looks that he ignored.

“Not yet,” Lisa said. “I’m not planning on going to college.”

Nathan glanced at his mother, knowing that Lisa had uttered heresy. Her answer had surprised him too, though.

“Nathan’s going to college,” Karen declared.

“He should,” Lisa said. “He’s smart.”

“Lisa’s smart too,” Nathan said, feeling a need to defend her.

“So what will you do in lieu of college?” Karen asked. The twins, in matching high chairs beside the table, sucked on matching pacifiers. At four months, neither could sit up on her own, but the chairs had a semi-reclining position, and the two together in matching reindeer outfits looked adorable.

“I stopped making plans years ago.”

Nathan wondered what she meant by that.

Just then Abby dropped her pacifier and let out a wail. Lisa bent and retrieved the thing. “I’ll go rinse it off.”

“I’ll do it.” Karen took the pacifier.

The moment she left the dining room, Nathan’s father said, “It’s okay if you don’t want to go to college. It’s not a capital offense.”

“My mother already has the twins enrolled,” Nathan added, irritated by his mother’s third degree.

Karen swept back into the room. “What about your parents? What do they want you to do?”

“They pretty much let me do what I want.”

Karen looked shocked. “Really?”

“It’s a long story.”

Nathan watched Lisa withdraw. She wasn’t going to say anything that revealed more than she wanted. Lisa had walls around her that no one breached. He willed his mother to change the subject.

Karen apparently got his mental message because she said to his father, “Did you get the tree set up?”

He and Nathan had wrestled the overly large fir into its tree stand earlier. “It’s standing. But I still need to put the lights on it.”

“And I need to get the girls in bed.”

Lisa slid her chair away from the table. “How about if Nathan and I clean up?”

“Thank you.” Karen’s voice was crisp.

Alone in the kitchen with Lisa, Nathan said, “I’d like to hear your long story someday.”

Lisa looked over at the refrigerator at Molly’s drawing hanging dead center. “And I’d like to hear yours.”

Nathan glanced at the artwork. It had hung there for so long, he sometimes failed to see it. “Not much to tell. I was three when it happened. Molly was six. She sneaked out of the house during naptime and drowned in the pool. I don’t really remember much about it at all.”

“Do you remember Molly?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes I think I do. But I get the images all mixed up with the photos Mom keeps of her in our photo albums. So I can’t really say for sure that I remember her. But that’s okay, because Mom never lets any of us forget her.”

Lisa reached over and removed a glass that Nathan was holding. “You were squeezing it so tight, I thought you might break it,” she explained quietly.

“I guess you’ve seen enough of my blood for one day, huh?”

“After we finish here, can I see your room?” she asked, changing the subject.

Nathan took her all over the house, room by room. She asked questions, and he wondered what she thought of his lifestyle, different from hers. He wondered too what
did
matter to her. She seemed more relaxed than ever, smitten with the twins, and not intimidated by his parents. The girl was a puzzle and a surprise, all in one package.

They ended up in the basement, right outside the door of what had been his classroom for so many years. She asked, “Do you miss being homeschooled?”

“No.”

“But you’re not crazy about Crestwater either.”

“I don’t feel like I fit either place. This is too isolated. The other, too fragmented. I’m not sure my mom did me any favors.”

“My mother couldn’t have done it for me. Charlie could have, but he had to work to pay the bills. Besides, he never graduated from high school.”

“You’re kidding. He was quoting Shakespeare to me.”

Lisa smiled. “I never said he wasn’t educated. He reads all the time. He’s the smartest man I know. Maybe even smarter than Fuller. He took courses at a college but he says he screwed some things up. I don’t know the story, but he likes working with his hands outdoors, and he’s been good to us. He understands life can give you a bad hand.”

“How long has he—” Nathan faltered. This wasn’t any of his business.

“Lived with us?” Lisa didn’t appear offended. “He
moved in when I was nine, and he’s been with us ever since.”

He wanted to ask about her real father but didn’t have the guts. Besides, what did it matter? Charlie was the dad in her life, and that was what counted.

“We’re ready to trim the tree,” Nathan’s father called from the top of the basement stairs.

Upstairs, Nathan’s mother had set out a tray of hot chocolate and warm cookies and a large bowl of popcorn. A fire crackled in the fireplace, and boxes of beautiful decorations flanked the tree, now aglow with ribbons of tiny white lights. Christmas carols played on the audio system.

Karen stayed busy decorating the mantel with pine branches, silk magnolias, candles and a platoon of glass and china angels. Craig sat on the floor, gobbling cookies and untangling light strings for the stair banister.

“Your house looks like a still-life painting,” Lisa whispered to Nathan. They stood together trimming the tree. “You do this
every
year?”

“For as long as I can remember. Don’t you put up a tree every year?”

“Sure. Just not like this.”

She didn’t elaborate, and he was left to wonder what her Christmases had been like.

From one of the boxes, Lisa picked out an obviously homemade ornament—a Styrofoam ball thick with flaking gold glitter. “Your craft project?”

Before Nathan could say a word, his mother yelled,
“Don’t drop that!” She rushed across the room, seizing the ball from Lisa’s hands and cradling it tenderly in her own.

“I—I’m sorry,” Lisa stammered.

Karen looked flustered. “I didn’t mean to yell. It’s just that this one has special meaning for me. I-it was made by someone special.” She hung it reverently on the highest branch she could reach.

Lisa sidled Nathan a look of understanding, then offered, “If you really want to preserve it, maybe you should buy one of those special cases used for showing off baseballs. They can be sealed airtight, and that will really keep the ornament from falling apart. And I noticed a drawing on your refrigerator. It can be laminated, and that will keep it from falling apart too.”

Nathan saw by his mother’s expression that she had never thought of these things. She was stuck in a time warp about Molly and couldn’t see the obvious. “Good ideas,” he said. “Don’t you think so, Mom?”

“Yes,” Karen said stiffly. “I’ll look into your suggestions.”

When the tree was fully decorated, they stood around it, admired it, and sipped hot chocolate. Nathan had hoped to have Lisa stay and watch a movie with him, but once the tree was complete, she asked him to drive her home. “It was nice to meet you,” Karen told Lisa, but her voice held none of the warmth Lisa’s mother’s had held when she first met Nathan.

He drove her home, nervous about saying good
night because he wanted to kiss her in the worst way. He pulled in next to Charlie’s truck, but before he could turn off his engine, she jumped out of the car. “I had a good time.”

“Hey, wait up. I’ll go with you.”

“No. I think Charlie and Mom are asleep,” she said, leaning into the passenger window. “I’ll see you in school on Monday.”

Confused, and burning with desire, Nathan watched her hurry up the walk. He just couldn’t figure her out. They’d had a good time together. She wasn’t one bit put off by his mother. Lisa’s own family seemed nice enough, if unconventional, so he didn’t think they were the problem. So what was it? What made Lisa run?

I stand and watch you from afar. I wish upon you, like a star.…
The words of his own poem returned, and with it, all the confused longing he’d felt the night he’d first written it. “Still, I love you better than you know,” he said aloud, and swore to himself he would get inside her heart. Somehow.

“Did you have a good time?” Lisa’s mother asked when Lisa let herself into the apartment. She was sitting on the worn sofa, scratching off silver finishes from a stack of lottery tickets.

“Mom, why do you waste your money this way?”

“Simple—if I don’t play, I can’t win. When I strike it rich, you and Charlie both will be eating your words. Now tell me about your dinner at Nathan’s.”

“I had a great time.”

“Well, he’s cute as can be and he sure seems nice.”

“He is nice.”

“And his family?”

“They’re nice too, although I don’t think his mother likes me.”

Jill sank against the sofa. “That’s crazy. Why wouldn’t she like you?”

“Just a feeling.”

“Have you—” Jill faltered. “You know … said anything to him yet?”

“I’m not going to do that.”

“I don’t get why you’re so secretive. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Mom, please don’t lecture me. You all agreed to let me play by my own rules.”

“Yes, but—”

Just then Charlie came into the room. “Let her be, Jill. She knows what she wants.”

Jill’s expression turned sour, and she scraped furiously at another ticket.

Charlie handed Lisa a piece of paper. “Your call came Wednesday. I didn’t tell you until now because I wanted you to have a good holiday. You’re set up for two-thirty, five days a week.”

“Two-thirty! But that means I’ll have to leave school at one-thirty, and for weeks I’ll miss half of the only class I really like.”

“Your teacher will understand. If you have a problem, I’ll speak to him.”

“Fuller knows already.” Lisa struggled against the lump in her throat. “I—I just thought I’d have more time to be normal.”