A Bird on a Windowsill (7 page)

She’s mine—my forever girl. I’ll always think of her that way.

E
ben:
You up?

Vannah:
Yep :)

Eben:
I really liked hanging out with you tonight.

Vannah:
:) Me too! We should do it again.

Eben:
Tomorrow?

Vannah:
Tomorrow!

Eben:
Good night, V

Vannah:
Sweet dreams, E

Chapter Nine

Salem 

(Sixteen Years Old)

Day 4,023

I
pull up to Vannah’s house at eight. It’s the quickest I could get here. I had more lawns to mow than usual today.

A few months ago, I got in my head that I wanted to start a mowing business. Dad was against it, at first. He wanted me to start working at the lumberyard. But it only took him a day to come around. That next night, he came up to me and said that maybe it was good for me to find out what it’s like to run my own business. And that was that. I started cutting grass around town the next day. And it caught on pretty good. Turns out, there are a lot of people around here who’d rather
not
deal with lawn mowers and hedge trimmers. And as it turns out, I don’t mind it so much. It’s kind of calming, to me.

But today, of all days, I got a call from Coach Hoffman asking me if I could mow his grass. And of course, I can’t say no to coach. And of course, he’s got the biggest and the hilliest damn lawn in Allandale.

I stop my truck, and the first thing I see is her.

She’s got a white towel wrapped around her body, her hair is down, and she’s not wearing any shoes.

“What are you doing?”

She turns back toward me with her finger to her lips.

“Shh.”

I watch her pull the screen door shut like she’s closing the door to the Taj Mahal. And then she tiptoes over the wooden porch boards and down the narrow set of stairs.

“Why are you only wearing a towel?” I whisper, loudly.

And at that moment, I can’t think of a good reason why I’d ever ask her that question.

“Shh. Turn your lights off.”

I quickly push the knob that runs the lights, and instantly, the space around us grows dark.

“What in tarnation are we doing?” I ask her, when she gets closer to the truck.

“I’m supposed to be packing.”

She tiptoes in front of the truck, and at the same time, I lean over and open the passenger’s side door. And she climbs right in.

“Your parents are gonna have my head.”

“Nah.” She looks as if she doesn’t have a care in her bones. “It’ll be fine. Just back out with your lights off.”

I stare at her. She’s not paying any attention to me anymore. She just keeps stuffing what looks as if it’s her clothes into a cloth bag.

This just might be the best or the worst night of my life. Hell, I guess, it could be both.

And with that thought, my mind immediately changes gears.

“Okay,” I say, shifting in my seat so I can see out the back window.

My heart is pounding. I let the truck mostly roll back down the hill, and then once I hit the gravel road, I turn the lights back on and quickly step on the gas.

“Where are we going?”

“Hogan’s slab?” she both says and asks, at the same time.

“Sounds good.”

That’s all I say. And after a few moments, she finishes fiddling with her bag and looks up at me.

“You sure no one’s going to realize you’re gone?”

She shakes her head. “Whitney’s talking to her boyfriend in her room. They’ll be on the phone all night. And honestly, I haven’t seen Mom or Dad for a week now. They’ve been busy doing whatever it is you do when you move across the country.”

“Like pack?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t you have to pack?”

I try to conceal my smile.

“I’m already finished.”

“Already?”

“Yeah, I stuck it all in four boxes. Two for me. And two for you.”

“For me?”

“Yeah, when I come back, I’m going to need my stuff.”

“You’re coming back?”

“Eventually,” she sighs.

Something in me leaps to life.

“When I turn eighteen, I can do whatever I want,” she adds.

I look over at her.

“I’d like that—if you came back.”

She smiles at me. And my eyes just rest in her green sea. It’s a good moment. But it ends all too soon when the creek comes into view and I pull off to the side of the road and softly tap the brakes.

And as soon as I get the truck turned off, she jumps out and slams the door behind her. And I just watch, motionless, as she dances in that sandy road. Sometimes, I still can’t believe she’s that same little girl that used to steal all my gummy worms when I wasn’t looking.

I follow her with my eyes, until she reaches the edge of the concrete slab and then drops her towel.

Just then, I sit up straight and freeze in my seat.

She’s got some kind of little swimsuit bottoms on, but she’s not wearing any top.

My breath gets stuck in my throat. I try to swallow, but I can’t. And then I sit there for a second, wondering what I should do, until something lights a fire under my ass, and I pull on the door latch and jump out of the truck.

Within seconds, I’m at the slab, just as she’s jumping in.

Water splashes up and soaks into my jeans and tee shirt. And then her head comes back up, and she’s rubbing her eyes.

“Come on,” she says, staring back up at me.

I don’t move. I don’t say anything. I just stand there.

She laughs. “Eben, come on.”

That’s all the coaxing I need. In the next breath, I snap out of my trance, and just like that, I’m kicking off my shoes and pulling off my tee shirt. She watches me as I do it. And as soon as I’ve got my jeans pulled off, I jump into the water next to her.

Immediately, I suck in a quick breath. The water’s ice cold. “What are we doing?” I laugh through my pain.

“Skinny dipping,” she says. “I always wanted to try it.”

“But we’re not...”

She holds up a tiny pair of swimsuit bottoms.

I feel my eyes grow wide.

“Savannah Catesby, you’re gonna kill me yet.”

She tosses the bottoms, and they land on the slab. And then she gives me a prodding look.

“Okay,” I say.

I take off my boxers and throw them onto the slab, too. I’m happy, for my sake, this old creek water is kind of murky, but then again, looking at her, I also wish it weren’t.

I smile at her, and she gives me a proud look back.

I can’t help but laugh at that.

“Girl, it is sixty-five degrees, and this water’s even colder. You couldn’t have picked to do this in July?”

She laughs, and her voice carries over the water and lingers in the misty air.

“But I won’t be here in July.”

My smile starts to fade, but hers stays.

“Are you cold?” she asks.

“Yeah, hell yeah, I’m cold.”

“You wanna get out?”

That’s a trick question. Half of me wants to get the hell out of this freezing water and put my dry clothes back on, but the other half realizes that I’m also next to Savannah Catesby, and she just so happens to be...naked.

“I’m getting out,” she says.

“What?” I laugh. “Already?”

“It’s freezing in here,” she screams.

I watch, with a smile on my face, as she swims to her towel and climbs out of the water. She’s pretty crafty at getting that towel around her so fast, but I do manage to steal a quick glance at her upper thigh before she’s all covered up.

“I brought you a towel, too,” she says, turning my way.

I quickly drop my gaze before finding hers again.

She just gives me a playful, scolding look, before she grabs her little cloth bag and pulls out a towel.

“Here,” she says, holding it out to me, “unlike yourself, I won’t look.”

I try to hide my mischievous smile, as she turns her face. I’d hesitate, but it’s too damn cold to be self-conscious.

I pull myself back up onto the concrete slab and wrap the towel around my waist.

And then she faces me again and lets out a soft, desperate scream. “I’m so cold,” she squeals, crossing her arms against her chest. “I feel like a human Popsicle.”

I laugh. She looks so cute. Her hair is slicked back, and there are little beads of water on her long eyelashes.

“But you’re a cute little human Popsicle, at least.”

She shivers some more.

“Here,” I say. I walk over to her and wrap my arms around her. She lets me do it, but she keeps her arms crossed over her chest. And she probably doesn’t even think anything of it, but feeling her warm skin against mine makes me think back to when we were kids and arm wrestling and playing Red Rover and all those thumb wars. Her skin on mine didn’t matter a hill of beans back then. But now...it makes my senses come alive.

She squeals, as she shivers some more. I squeeze her tighter. And then, she grows quiet. And I hold her there for a few more long, silent moments, until her eyes travel up to mine.

She’s got a smile on her face. I want to kiss her. And something tells me she’d kiss me back.

“Um.”

I hear her voice, and I loosen my hold on her.

“Maybe we should get dressed,” she says.

I can tell she’s nervous. I’ve known Vannah too long not to know what she’s feeling.

My heart sinks a little in my chest.

“Yeah,” I agree. “Maybe.”

She walks over to her bag and pulls out some dry clothes. And then she turns back to me.

“Can you, uh, maybe turn that way?” she asks, pointing behind me.

“Uh, yeah, of course.”

I turn around and go to my boxers and jeans and tee shirt, which are strewn about the concrete. And as she puts her clothes back on, I shake out the sand and throw on mine, too.

And when I turn around again, she’s sitting on the edge of the slab—fully clothed—dangling her feet over the side.

I press the towel to my head and rub it into my hair, and then I take a seat beside her.

“Do you see how the moon makes the water light up?” she asks.

I look at the creek water and notice the moonlight reflecting off of it.

I nod. “I do.”

She keeps her eyes on that light, so I do, too.

“That’s why I like it here,” she says.

I take my eyes off the water, and instead, focus on her. She’s got this look in her eyes. And if you didn’t know her, you’d probably guess it were wonder. But I know it’s something more like
wander
, instead. Her mind is wandering...through tunnels and caves and old, abandoned sheds we used to find out near my house when we were little. And if I had to guess, I’d guess it was also wandering through the future...through times we haven’t even had yet.

“I’m guessing you’ve been here before, at night, I mean?” I ask, breaking her silence.

I force my eyes back to the creek water, but I can feel hers on me.

“I have,” she says, softly, returning her attention to the moonlight.

“I’m just going to pretend it wasn’t with him.”

I feel her eyes on me again, and this time, I look at her.

“Okay,” she whispers. A roguish smile stretches across her face.

“Vannah, did you like him?”

She breathes in, holds the breath in her lungs for a few beats and then forces it out.

“I did.”

I nod. “But I mean, did you really like him?”

She presses her hands against the concrete slab and leans back.

“I thought I did.” There’s a pause, and the air between us grows thick. “But maybe I didn’t.”

I try to conceal my thankful sigh by bringing my fist to my mouth.

“Because I didn’t want to spend my last month here with him,” she adds.

Her words hit my ears and somehow melt my heart. And even after it turns quiet, I just keep replaying her last sentence in my head, until a question takes hold of my thoughts and won’t let go.