Embrace Me (19 page)

“You'd be surprised.”

“So what's up?” I ask. “You all having a New Year's Eve party at Shalom?”

“Nah. Jessica and Rachel are going down to the square to watch the fireworks, and that just leaves Justin, who's in bed by seven every night.”

“Are they all monks?” I ask.

“Well, they've taken the vows.”

Lella lifts up her head. “What vows?”

Augustine explains, going so far as to tell about the whole eternal chastity business.

She lays her head back down on my lap and listens. “I've never heard of this sort of thing, Augustine. Is it binding?”

I smile. He smiles. “Of course. I promised God.”

“But does He hold you to these promises if, well, if other opportunities come along?”

Augustine's no dummy. He reaches out and touches Lella's cheek with the tips of his fingers. “Lella.”

She closes her eyes. A tear slips from the corner and slides down the ledge of her nose. “I'm sorry,” she whispers. “I don't know what I was thinking.”

Augustine kneels in front of her. “No need.”

“I wish—”

“That your eyes didn't display your heart?” he asks.

“Oh, yes.” Her eyes remain closed. I look down upon her.

Oh, Lella. Oh, Lell.

“There are other ways to love.” He lays a hand of blessing on her head and he looks at me. “You know that. Many ways. Look at the love between you and Valentine.”

I nod, yes, that's right. Lella nods. She opens her eyes. “Do you love us, Augustine? It seems as if you do.”

“Yes. God's stamped you on my heart. And when I see the both of you, something rings, a sort of song.”

“I could never be much good to you or Shalom,” she says.

Confusion stitches a line from brow to brow. “You two have no idea how precious you are, do you?”

We stare at him.

“I wish I could hug you, Augustine. I've never given anyone a hug in my entire life.”

Augustine lifts her into his arms and holds her against his chest. “I'm sorry, Lella. But pretend you're hugging me, all right, and I'll feel it in my heart.”

She closes her eyes, screws up her face.

Augustine blesses the top of her head with a kiss. “Yep. I felt the love!”

Lella smiles. “I did too. You can put me down, if you please.”

“She hates to be held like a baby, Augustine.”

“Oh! Sorry.” He lays her back on the bed then sits back down, rests his palms on his knees.

I shake my head. “Don't mind me for saying so, but that was a little, well, TV movie-of-the week.”

“I'm not very original, I guess.”

“It was a lovely gesture.” Lella.

“Why don't you tell us why you're here, Augustine?”

He taps his fingers in succession. “I came over with an invitation for tonight. Blaze told me yesterday you all had no plans for New Year's Eve.”

“Oh, dear me, no!” Lella almost gasps. “It's the most depressing night of the year as far as I'm concerned.”

“We were just talking about that,” I say.

He rubs the tops of his legs with the palms of his hands. “Remember Poppy Fraser?”

“Of course,” I say.

“She's part of a group of ladies who get together for prayer every week, along with Charmaine and a few others. So they're having a little feast over at Charmaine's to ring in the New Year.”

“Ring in or pray in?” I ask.

“Ring. Wanna come? I've borrowed Rachel's truck. Room enough for all three of us.”

“How can we, Augustine?”

“Oh, but, Val!” Lella screws her head around, eyes teeming with excitement. “Wouldn't it be fun?”

“I'm sorry. I just can't. You should have known better, Augustine.” I lift Lella's head with the pillow and slide out from under her. “I've got to go to the bathroom. Maybe you should see yourself out now.”

I close the bathroom door behind me and lean against it, feeling the indentations of the panel along the back of my ribcage. With about as much emotion as a refrigerator, Judy Garland, recorded years ago in
Girl Crazy
, sings my favorite song.

My bedroom door clicks shut. Augustine must be gone.

“He tries too hard,” I say loudly enough for Lella to hear.

She doesn't answer. She's probably a little miffed at me for turning down the invite for the both of us.

After slapping some cold water on my face and combing my hair back into a neater ponytail, I step back into the bedroom. Lella's gone.

Lella's gone!

He took her with him? That rat!

I rush down the steps and yank open the coat closet door, the coat I made her nowhere in sight. The stroller is gone. Shoving my feet into my boots, I grab my parka, my scarves, and run out the door into the coldest night of the year. Nine o'clock, the hall clock begins to chime. Nobody loiters about. No pedestrians traverse the sidewalk.

And there are the tire tracks. I am not going to Charmaine's. But I'm not going to sit alone with the space heater either.

Zipping up my coat, winding one scarf from ear to ear and the other to circle around my face, I head off under the stars toward Lake Coventry. I walk by the hot spots on the town square and beyond. Hotel Oak is thumping with a live band, Java Jane's has a guitarist and a singer in the back corner. Nobody looks my way. Just another soul bundled up against the soon-coming January.

On the road to the lake I pass Josef's. A party's going on there too.

What in the world are these people so excited about? Don't they remember they failed almost every resolution last year and that life is still a big old pile of quiet desperation? What in the world is the matter with them?

I haven't come here yet this season. To my dock on Lake Coventry. Its stumpy legs disappear into the shining waters of the lake, a full moon lighting the expanse sitting calm in no wind at all as if nature proclaims it just another night, not even worthy of the breeze. I wonder if Charmaine will show up.

She's been meeting me here for three off-seasons now.

Probably not.

Maybe I shouldn't be so hard on the world. Maybe they know something I don't. Maybe I could take a lesson on this night when people decide to pull back a little or take chances, when hope for change ripens fully yellow, begging to be plucked and bitten down to the seeds.

But it's at night when I feel with a desolate song that we are allowed only a few drastic chances, and Daisy, as she rubbed the Drano into my skin, used up almost all of them.

I was pretty. I was just one of those fresh pretty girls you see on the street with swinging hair and a little bounce to her breasts.

A board creaks behind me. I turn.

“I knew you'd be here. When Gus came carrying Lella, and you not in sight, I just said to myself, ‘Charmaine, now get on over to that dock, 'cause sure as rain in spring that girl's going to be there.'”

“Hey Charmaine, come on over.”

She sits down next to me. “I'm not going to ask why you didn't come. I already know.”

“Yeah. So how come you left the party?”

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a knit cap. “Oh, I don't know.” She shoves the cap over all that hair. “I figured it would be so much better out here in the freezing cold night than sitting by our warm fire with a cup of tea and a plate of home-made cinnamon rolls. Call me crazy.”

Charmaine just makes me laugh.

“Why don't you come on over, Valentine? Poppy made crab cakes and she's from Maryland. They're really good.”

“Nah. I really don't want to. Plus, you'll have to say you found me, and I don't want everybody coming down feeling sorry for me and acting all sad. I mean, pity's okay, but not when it pulls people away from a party. And then they'll realize we're closer friends than anybody knows.”

“Except Harlan. He knows everything.”

“I don't want everybody in Mount Oak thinking they can be my friend just because you are.”

She sighs, puts on some gloves, and leans back on her hands. “Sometimes it's nice to keep something or somebody mostly to yourself. I like that about us. So you'll never guess what I did.”

“What?”

“I actually volunteered to cook dinner next week at Shalom.”

“Oh no, Charmaine. Why would you ever do a thing like that?”

“It's Augustine. He could talk a fish onto dry land. He said he needed a couple of big pots of stew or soup or something for Wednesday night. There's some group coming into town, The Psalters. They're a band of Jesus-minstrel types or something like that. Augustine had a hard time pinning down their style.”

“Jesus-minstrel types?”

“That's what he said. Kinda gypsyish too.” She waves a hand. “Don't ask me, Valentine. And there'll be some of the street people. When they hear there's a meal at Shalom, a few always show up. Folks from the neighborhood too. You need to help me cook. I'm terrible in the kitchen.” She waves a hand. “Oh, I try and Harlan's so nice about it, always complimenting the meal no matter how horrible it tastes, but cooking for a crowd? You know how to do that in your sleep.”

I lay a hand on her leg. “Charmaine, think about it. I don't want to go to a party tonight
or
share you with anyone. So why would I help you out in public?”

“Because I need help. Augustine went on and on about moving outside our money and busyness so we can see God in fresh new ways.” Her eyes deepen like the waters. “I need to see God in fresh new ways, Valentine. And so do you.
You
.”

Her hot steel gaze slices through my frozen soul. She knows. She knows who I really am down underneath this crust of skin and scar.

Looking up at the crystal stars, I say, “Can we cook in the middle of the night and maybe you can heat it up the next day?”

Charmaine hugs me. “Of course you silly.”

“I was just totally manipulated, wasn't I?”

“Not a bit, Val. You talked yourself into it all on your own.”

“I must be slipping.”

The next Tuesday, Charmaine drifts into the driveway at mid-night, lights off, engine off.

I jump down off the porch. I open the passenger door to her plain white sedan. “Well, we don't have to be quite this clandestine.”

She waves a hand. “I just thought it'd be more fun this way.”

“You're right, it is.”

“I got bags and bags of groceries in the backseat.”

I look in the back as I hop in. Seven paper sacks line the bench seat. “IGA?”

“Only game in town far as I'm concerned. I got everything on your list.” She starts up the engine. “I tried that new Safeway out near the mini-mall right when it opened. Too big and fancy. My lands, I don't need to buy Chinese take-out where I get my Captain Crunch. Honestly, how we're going to support a big Safeway is beyond me.” Charmaine turns onto Mortimer Street. “So I got in the checkout line and you should have seen the magazines at eye level! My lands, talk about body parts. More body parts than I want to see!”

“You crack me up.”

“It's not that I'm all against body parts, in the right circumstances. Fine. God made all the bodies and all the parts. I just don't want to see your body parts when I'm buying milk and eggs.” She quick turns her head in my direction. “Well, no personal offense meant.”

“None taken. I'd rather keep my body parts to myself anyway.”

“Me too. But bras are pretty good these days. For a while, back in the eighties there were those underwire things with the flimsy fabric. Now me, I like a little padding.”

“Me too. Not too much, but enough for no topographical show-through.”

“That's exactly right!”

“Don't you just love girl talk?”

Charmaine's the only person in the world who talks to me like I'm just another woman. “You don't know how much.”