A Season of Eden (20 page)

The nerves in my stomach drew tight. “You mean we’re never going to meet anywhere but Starbucks?”

“I’m getting used to being seen in public with you. It’s a risk for me, Eden.”

“Yeah, and your chances of being seen by anyone at my house are a lot less than at Starbucks. My dad’s never there.”

For a long moment, his gaze held mine. I wondered if I was going to have to hold his hand through this. Part of me found the idea lame. I had to remind myself that he was a super, hot and rare commodity. Not dwell on the slick moves the boys I’d dated had left in my head, tainting me into thinking that was what was real.

“After school tomorrow.”

“In broad daylight?”

I laughed. “Yes, in broad daylight.” His hesitation both annoyed and intrigued me. “I’ll leave the gates open. You can pull your car right up to the house, that way no one leaving the school will see your car and know that you’re there.”

“I seriously doubt anybody knows my car.”

“Everybody knows everybody’s car.”

“Seriously?”

I didn’t dare tell him I’d stalked him just to see what he drove. That I’d then followed him home. He’d freak. I felt ridiculous. The natural course of our relationship would lead me to his house, that I had no doubt of now. “Or we could meet at your house.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“Let’s just say that my mom is conservative.”

“Do you think she’d like me?”

“She’d be too afraid for my future to like you as anything but one of my students.”

“That’s lame.” I couldn’t keep disappointment from my voice. “So we’re really going to be in hiding?”

“Hiding’s not the right word—careful. I think that’s the best for now.”

He’d thought enough about this to have a plan. That was cool. But it stunk we couldn’t go public. Again, I counted the months until graduation.

“I better get going,” he said, rising.

I didn’t like being told it was time to end a conversation or anything else. Matt had talked to me as long as I wanted, stayed with me until I’d had enough. My feelings prickled. “Oh. Sure.”

He walked me to my car. I didn’t want the evening to end, but he’d said he had to go. “Give me your keys, Eden.”

“My keys?” Surprise tingled through me. I dug through my bag and handed him the keys.

Deliberately, his fingers brushed mine and held my hand for a moment, his blue eyes sparkling. He unlocked the car door and held it open. The gentlemanly gesture made me feel special and helped soothe my prickled defenses.

“Thanks for the coffee.”

“You’re welcome.”

On the far out fantasy that he might kiss me, I waited a moment.

His gaze dropped to my mouth and he touched my lower lip with his finger, gently lingering. “Still hurt?”

“N-no,” my voice rasped. He smiled.

“Keep that Carmex on it.”

“I will.” My heart thudded at his touch. As if he knew my knees were melting, he kept his finger on my lip, drawing it slowly down to my chin before he put his hand back in the pocket of his hoodie.

“Tomorrow. Redondo Beach. Five o’ clock.”

Excitement stole my voice. I nodded.

I got into the car and looked up at him.

“Have a good night, Eden.”

“You too.”

I drove home with my heart pulsing joy through my body. James was the coolest, nicest guy I had ever met, the best of two worlds; a hottie that didn’t know he was a hottie. There was no way I was going to let anyone else know this. And no way was I going to let any other girl near him.

I’d never been jealous. I’d never felt possessive. In my relationships, I’d been the hot one. The most sought after.

I’d been a shopper at a boutique, picking and choosing what I wanted, when I wanted it. When I’d had enough, I moved on.

At home, I walked in the house and found silence. It was nine o’clock, so I went to the garage door and peered out into the garage. Dad’s car was there. Uncertainty knotted my stomach.

I went to his office and peered through the glass French doors. Empty. I checked out the family room next, and found him sitting on one of the big, leather couches, staring at the television. He was watching his and Stacey’s wedding videos.

From the big screen Stacey’s face beamed like a celebrity on the red carpet. I hated these videos. They could have been titled the Stacey Show for all that Dad and I or anyone else was in them. I swear she’d paid the cameraman to film only her.

“Dad?” He turned for a second to look at me but didn’t say anything. I walked up behind the couch to sneak a closer look at his face. Faint red rimmed his eyes, the only sign of what was going on inside of him.

“Why do you watch this if you know it will hurt?” I asked.

He didn’t reply.

“She doesn’t deserve this, Dad. You’re so much better than her. And you can do so much better than her.” He didn’t say anything. “You’re not still mad at me, cause that would be totally lame.”

Like a zombie, he didn’t move. Only his eyes blinked.

I let out a sigh. I couldn’t believe he was pining away after the gold digger. I was glad she was gone, and hoped he would see her for what she really was sooner than later.

Save himself hours of self-inflicted torture.

I turned and headed upstairs, digging my phone out along the way. I dialed Brielle.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Hey, what’s up?”

Upstairs, I dropped the whisper I’d spoken in. “Dad’s being so lame right now.”

“Because of Stacey?”

“He’s sitting in a vegetative state in front of the TV

watching his wedding video.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I can’t believe he’s sorry about this.”

“Well, they were married, right?”

I shut my bedroom door. “So?” Not once had Stacey been satisfied with simply being in the gorgeous house Dad provided. She asked him for new this, more of that. At Christmas, she gave Dad a watch or a new suit while she expected a twenty-thousand dollar bracelet and a trip to Dubai.

I plopped onto my bed. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you, Brielle.”

“I guess I just think, well, it’s nice when people can work things out.”

“I don’t know, to me it’s so clear. I can see it for exactly what it was. I just can’t understand why he can’t.”

Brielle didn’t say anything more. I didn’t like her silence.

I wasn’t happy that she’d sided with Dad. But then maybe she had rug burns after being Matt’s doormat.

“So, how are things with Matt?” I knew how bad regret would be for her when Matt dumped her. And I knew he’d dump her eventually.

“Good. Fine. Good.” Her fake enthusiasm told me the circulation was already draining from their relationship.

When she didn’t elaborate, I said, “Oh. Good. I’m glad.

You guys hook up yet?” She paused and I continued, “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me. But if you want to talk about it, you can.”

“That would just be too weird.”

“You’re probably right.”

We talked a few more minutes about other stuff then said goodbye. I’d just clicked off my phone when Dad opened my bedroom door and peered in. He hadn’t entered my bedroom for years, no doubt as uncomfortable being there as I was having him there.

“Dinner, Eden.” He shut the door to avoid my reply.

Stunned, I couldn’t move Dinner? He hadn’t asked me to come down and eat with him since I was fifteen.

Numbly, I took the stairs down wondering what in the world we would talk about.

Camilla had prepared lasagna. The deep baking dish sat in the center of the dining room table as if awaiting a large party. Two thrown-together place settings dressed one corner of the twelve-foot table.

Dad was already sitting, hands clasped over his empty plate. He watched me enter and sit down.

We both picked up our cloth napkins at the same time.

I would have smiled at the coincidence, but the air was so thick with weirdness, I was having a hard time breathing.

He gestured to the lasagna, which meant I was supposed to dish up first. I did. I reached for the salad bowl and scooped myself a small mound, then handed it to him.

He handed me a soft garlic roll, then took one.

There was no sound but the crunch of chewing. I started to sweat. I snuck glances at him, staring down at his plate, his jaw going round and round. He sat with his forearms poised on the table. His wedding band was still on his finger. I wasn’t surprised. His lawyer mentality wouldn’t give up easily.

“How’s school?” His voice cut through the awkward silence like truth through a lie.

“Fine.”

“Graduation’s coming. You ready for finals?”

“Dad, that’s three months away yet. Yes, I’ll be ready for finals.”

“I can hardly believe you’ll be leaving for Santa Barbara soon.”

He just got rid of Stacey, was he anxious to be alone?

“I’m not going to USSB.”

He froze a moment, then locked his courtroom glare on mine. “Why not?”

“I’m still enrolled, don’t get jumpy. I’m just thinking about staying in town. Maybe USC.”

“You hate SC.”

Yeah, but it’s closer to home.
And James
. I shrugged.

“Things change. So why are we suddenly eating dinner together?”

His eyes steeled. “Things change.”

We ate the rest of our meal in silence. Stacey’s presence had made us roommates and left us strangers.

After I’d finished, I rose, ready to take my plate to the kitchen. Dad lifted his to me. At first I stared at it. When I could see he was serious about me taking his plate along with mine, I glared at him. His steady gaze was straight from the courtroom – all business, no b.s.

I took the plate.

The next afternoon I raced home when school was over. As expected, no one was there. Camilla had come, started dinner, and left, her note on the granite counter with our menu.

I let out a sigh of relief, still spooked after last night’s dinner with Dad. The impromptu family eating experience had stuck with me like indigestion.

I changed from my jeans, tee shirt and hoodie into a gauzy skirt in milky white with a matching long-sleeved tee with
Sweatpea
across my chest. I pulled on my calf-high cream boots and sprayed on some perfume.

I’d counted the hours all day, my concentration zapped by the excitement I carried inside. During Concert Choir, I’d passed out sheet music, sung, and collected the music when class was over like I normally did. I’d caught James glancing at me throughout class and refused to acknowledge our secret meeting with any hint of furtive eye contact.

Now, I was in my car, speeding down the winding cliffs on Palos Verdes Drive North as if I was a race car driver.

On the Esplanade, I inched along in traffic toward the Redondo Beach entrance, searching for James’ grey Toyota.

My palms were wet, my heart was pounding. Spotted. I parked, got out and jogged across the street to the long declining cement ramp that led to the beach.

At that hour of the afternoon, the beach was nearly empty. Rollerbladers skated the biking/walking path. A few dogs led their owners by the leash. Salty air tickled my nose and a light, cool breeze lifted my hair from my neck.

Beyond the reach of the darkening Pacific, the sun hovered in golden red splendor.

I scanned the stretch of beach for James. He stood near the edge of the ocean, barefoot, in a pair of jeans and the same red hoodie he’d worn yesterday. I forced myself to walk down the ramp, rather than run. At the bottom, I slipped off my boots and carried them, my toes digging into the cool, grainy sand as I crossed to him.

“Hey.”

He had his hands in the front pocket of his jeans. “Hey.

Wow.” His gaze swept me from head to toe. “Another great outfit.”

“Thanks.”

We didn’t say anything for a moment. A chill of awkwardness chased down my spine. At last we were alone. What would we do with it? I couldn’t talk nonsense to him like I could with any teenaged guy, nonsense just to fill the air with noise.

“Here we are,” I said.

He smiled, looked at me and then back out at the sun.