Heart and Home (16 page)

I breathed him in and noted
a definite hint of sandalwood and cedar, mixed with the fresh air from outside
made me long to be outdoors with him. Under the moon, no care for the cold,
just the two of us with the stars as our witness and the earth beneath our
feet.

He returned his mouth to
mine, lips parted, our tongues ready for the velvet dance, and as we both
relaxed into the peaceful release of that kiss a thousand thoughts shot through
my mind. Primarily in place was the notion that I had never been kissed that
way in all my life. I could feel it in every cell of my body, tingling all the
way down in my toes, and though he’d kept his hands in gentlemanly places, the
passion his touch ignited in me was unlike anything I ever felt.

I knew right there if it
went any further than a kiss I would be lost on my own quest, unable to ever
turn back from the path I was sure wasn’t meant for me to follow.

On the other hand, I wasn’t
about to give up the intensity of that kiss. The voice that guided me into the
moment and told me to deal with the consequences later kept whispering inside
me, “It’s just a kiss.” But just a kiss or not, it was the most incredible kiss
I’d ever had, and it was already inspiring a ton of half-baked notions in my
head.

It had been a long time
since I’d been with a man, over a year, and even that was nothing to write in
my diary about. There was definite electricity between Troy and me, and I could
only imagine that if the sparks from a simple kiss were so intense, how might
things be if we were to make love?

And then, as if he were
following the lead of a voice all his own, he finished the kiss off with a
lingering movement of his lip against my cheek. “I swear this isn’t why I
brought you out here.” His voice was a rough whisper that sent shivers through
me.

“I know that.”

I wasn’t sure why, but from
any other man I might have expected such a move, but Troy’s animation while
showing off the hayride was genuine and just a little bit childlike. To show
him my trust, I leaned inward and kissed him again before resting my head on
his shoulder.

“All I’ve been able to think
about is being close to you and holding you,” I admitted, the warmth of an
embarrassed confession rushing into my face. “And talking about everything and
anything.”

“We’ve got plenty of time
for all of that,” he promised, nuzzling the tip of his nose against my cheek.
He didn’t say it, but I sensed he was thinking that as long as I didn’t forget
about him or Sonesville once I’d gone back to my life.

I don’t know how long we sat
together like that, curled close, wrapped up in the occasional moment where one
kiss just wasn’t enough. When he finally admitted he had a lot of work around
the farm he needed to get done in the morning, I buckled into the middle seat
and sat content with his arm around me all the way home.

“Can we do this again
tomorrow?” I asked between kisses.

“We can do anything you like
tomorrow,” I felt his grin against my lips.

“Good,” I drew away. “Call
me when you’re finished with all your work.”

“I will.”

He drew me into another
kiss, and it was five more minutes before we finally said goodnight. He
lingered at the curb until I unlocked the door and turned to wave. He lifted
his hand in goodbye, and then I slipped inside and closed the door behind me. I
locked and pressed my back against the door, feeling the intense agitation of
butterflies inside. They hadn’t stopped for hours, and every time I closed my
eyes and thought about his kiss they only grew stronger.

“Janice, Janice,” I sighed,
“what are you doing, girl?”

I started toward the stairs
cautiously expecting to see my mother’s ghost standing there at the top again
waiting for me. There was nothing, not even the light from her sewing room shed
into the hallway, so I climbed the stairs and headed into the bathroom to wash
my face and brush my teeth. It took forever to finish my routine because as I
stood in front of the mirror studying my face I tried to understand what he saw
as beautiful.

It certainly wasn’t the
smattering of freckles across the bridge of my nose, the kiss of the faerie
folk, my mother called it when I was a kid. By the time I’d reached high
school, I’d called it just plain annoying. I’d tried every freckle-removing
remedy I could find, but it was no use. They were there to stay. A lot of guys
liked red-heads. I tousled fingers through my ginger hair, noticing that the
golden, summer highlights had all but faded. Hazel eyes with flecks of gray and
green squinted back at me in judgment.

“Maybe he’s blind,” I
decided with a cynical scowl.

Tucking my hair behind my
ear, I left the bathroom and tip-toed toward my bedroom. I snuck a glance over
my shoulder at the silent sewing room and wondered if maybe all those times I
imagined it all. Stress and grief conjured up images of her, and I saw what I
wanted to see. I’d never even got to say goodbye.

Turning the knob in my hand,
I reached for the light-switch before fully opening the door. The room was
empty, and with a sigh of relief, I closed the door behind me and stripped out
of my clothes. As I was lifting my shirt up over my head, I noted the faint
scent of Troy’s cologne mingled with my perfume. I breathed it in and sighed.

“You are digging yourself a
hole,” I whispered with a stern headshake, but the greater part of me didn’t
care at that moment about the hole I was digging. As long as Troy was that
hole, I wanted to bury myself under the weight of the situation and stew there.

I switched off the light and
crawled into bed, and for the first time since I was a teenager, I curled up
with my shirt and fell asleep breathing in what was left of his scent.

Chapter Fifteen

It was the familiar sound of
her quiet voice that woke me, and when I say quiet voice, I mean that she
deliberately spoke in a hushed tone. For a moment I thought I was still
dreaming, suspended in some place and time from my youth. She’d done that often
when I was a girl, come into my bedroom to sit at my bedside watching me sleep.
She didn’t say much in that quiet voice, but sometimes she would press her lips
against my brow and tell me how much she loved me, how proud of me she was and
how she knew that no matter what path I chose in life, I would shine.

As I was crossing the
threshold between sleeping and waking I heard her say the words, “and even
though the events that led you to this place were painful, this is your path.”

“Mom?”

I propped up on my elbow in
the bed and searched the shadows of the room for her. I breathed in and smelled
the faint lavender scent of her, and the spot just on the edge of my bed felt
cold, as if a block of ice had been resting there. I swallowed and sat up
fully, remembering Becky’s suggestion about trying to talk to her and find out
what she wanted.

“Mom, if you’re here, it’s
okay. I want to see you and hear you.” I waited. “I miss you.”

Sunlight curled around the
edges of my blinds, and when I looked to the clock, I groaned to see it was
only 7:30. Under a normal schedule, I would have been up, out the door and half
way to work, I realized, even if I was out late the night before. We hadn’t
even really been out that late, I sighed and fell back into the bed. I closed
my eyes and thought about Troy and our date, momentarily distracted by the
daydream.

“Come on, I want to tell you
all about it, Mom,” I admitted as my throat constricted with emotion. “I want
to ask you what I should do, if it’s too soon to even worry about the future.”

There came no reply, and
though I was more than certain she really had been there only moments before,
no trace was left, and I was alone. I rolled over onto my side and just laid my
hand over the spot on the bed where I’d felt her sitting. I closed my eyes
against the sting of my tears, but in the end I gave over to them and let
myself cry.

I never thought about my mom
dying, or planned for the day when I’d no longer have her to turn to when I
needed sound judgment and good advice. Realizing I’d always just taken her
presence for granted made me cry even harder.

When I finally crawled out
of bed I spent an eternity under the hot shower. At first I used the steam to
battle my puffy eyes, and then I started to relax. Thinking and daydreaming
about my date with Troy, I replayed every bit of conversation, every caress and
kiss, and I couldn’t wait until I could call Becky and gush over it all. With
my forehead pressed against the shower wall, I wondered what he was doing right
then, what he was wearing, and if he was thinking about me.

I wasn’t sure what was
happening to me, or how any of it could possibly work out in the end, but it felt
good not knowing, like I was living just a little bit closer to the edge than I
had been before.

I laughed as I toweled my
hair. Sonesville and life on the edge… somehow that had to be an oxymoron.

After breakfast I set out to
pack up as much of my mom’s clothing as I could. My dad hadn’t felt any need
for it, but I’d convinced him that doing it early and donating the clothing to
the church or the women’s shelter in Williamsport would be something she’d have
wanted us to do, especially so close to the holidays. I also felt strange
leaving him alone with all those memories of her everywhere he turned. It’d be
easier for him to manage if there weren’t so many reminders of her around every
corner.

It felt strange rifling
through her drawers and handling her things. She’d taught me all about privacy
and boundaries, promising that she’d never spy or snoop through my things, as
long as I paid the same courtesy to her. It actually took me a few minutes to
convince myself that packing her clothes away wasn’t the same as snooping
through her things. Even if I came across some secret collection of diaries or
something, I would never have been able to read them, but fortunately there was
nothing of the sort in her dresser drawers or her closet.

When Becky finally called,
it made the task of sorting and folding easier, mostly because my mind was
elsewhere. As I spilled all the details from my date with Troy, keeping the
location of our parking session somewhat secret, she couldn’t help herself from
squealing and awing over everything I said.

“I can’t believe he had a
crush on you in high school, but was afraid to ask you out,” she sang dreamily.
“That is so romantic.”

“I know, tell me about it! I
was not expecting that at all.”

“So, if you guys have a June
wedding, would it be asking too much to be a bridesmaid?”

“Seriously girl,” rolling my
eyes, I carried the third and final garbage bag full of clothing out into the
living room and dropped it beside the others on the floor. “You are out of
control.”

“Come on, you said yourself
you felt totally connected to him while you were making out.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it
making out.” I plopped down into the easy chair my father liked to nap in and
closed my eyes. Just closing my eyes brought it back, the feeling of his cheek
against mine, the stubble both smooth, but rough and tantalizing as it grazed
my skin.

“You were parked in his
truck out in the middle of a dark cornfield,” she pointed out. “I’d call that
making out.”

“Making out sounds so
cheap,” I decided. “And then, get this, he tells me that wasn’t his intention.
To get me out there to you know…”

“My word,” Becky’s sigh
reached through the phone line, and I imagined her collapsing onto her sofa to
accommodate the drama of her mood. “There has got to be something wrong with
him, I mean seriously, he’s too perfect.”

“I know!” I agreed. “He’s
the perfect gentleman. He’s romantic, complimentary and good God can he kiss! I
don’t even want to think about it going any further than that because frankly,
I don’t think I could handle it.”

“Oh my god, you’re probably
right,” she paused for a second. “He’s probably perfect in bed too! Damn, you
lucked out.”

“See,” a snort of laughter
escaped me. “Now you’ve got me sleeping with him.”

“Yes, but you forget that
you’re already happily married in my mind, so, it’s not as tawdry as it
sounds.”

“Oh, you make it sound so
easy,” I said. “But Troy aside for the moment, I had another experience this
morning.”

“Seriously? What happened?”

“I woke up because I thought
my mom was in the room.”

“Did you get a chance to do
any research?”

“A little bit, but not much
that seemed very helpful yet. I have to do some more digging today.” I went on
to tell her about that strange feeling, waking to her voice and those odd
words. “And the bed was ice cold where she was sitting. I could still smell
her, Becky. You know how everyone has a smell about them, especially people
you’re close to?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I know
what you mean. And you’re sure that was what she said? Those were her exact
words?”

“Word for word.”

“Well, in a way, it’s kind
of reassuring,” she noted. “I did a little bit of research myself, but it was
kind of hard because I couldn’t really turn to you and ask if that’s what
you’re looking for.”

“It’s too bad we can’t get
together again and look through some of that stuff,” I sighed, picking at the
fraying edges under the arm covering.

“Who says we can’t?”

“Well, I’ve got to take this
stuff to the shelter this afternoon before Dad gets home, and then I’m supposed
to be going out with Troy again tonight.”

“Again tonight,” I heard her
click her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “It’s all falling into place,
I’m telling you.”

“Falling out of place,
maybe.”

“Threads were made to be
unwoven,” she said. “So what are you guys doing then?” In the background I
could hear her boys making some kind of motorized sound effects, like they were
racing cars around the living room. “Did you already make plans?”

“No, he’s supposed to call
me when he comes in for lunch. He had a lot of work to do today.”

“Well, maybe when he calls
you could convince him just how much fun it would be to come over and have
dinner with me and Marty.”

I grinned at the idea, my
mind picking up her train of thought whether she knew it or not. “Are you sure?
I wouldn’t want to impose on you guys,” I said.

“Nonsense!”

Her mind was already working
against me, just as it had been from the first minute she found out I liked
Troy Kepner. Anything she could do to make everything feel cozy and right, and
what better way to do that than in the company of friends. Surely, Troy knew
Marty, and he already knew Becky. We’d all laugh together and have a good time,
and it would just make everything seem and feel even more right than it already
did.

“I’m sure you’ll want to
spend some time alone, but dinner and maybe a game or two of cards or something
before you drive off to make out in some field somewhere?”

“You’re terrible, you know
that?”

“You’ll thank me one day, I
promise.”

“Okay, I will run it by him
when he calls and let you know.” Before she had a chance to reply the call
waiting beeped, signaling another caller on the line. “In fact, that might be
him now. Do you want to hold on, or should I just call you back?”

“Call me back. I gotta get
lunch around for these monsters.”

I pressed the flash button
after quickly clearing my throat, and tried not to sound too eager when I said,
“Hello?”

“Hi, Janice?” There was just
a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

“It’s me.”

“Have you had lunch yet?” He
asked.

“No, not yet, why?”

“Well, look out the front
door,” he said.

“Okay, why?” I asked with a
nervous hitch in my voice. I rose from the chair and started toward the front
door. I unlocked the deadbolt and freed the chain before pulling the door open.
The nerves moved quickly down the pathway to my stomach, and all those
butterflies I’d thought had left me when we’d said goodnight came rushing back
at once.

“Because my mom makes the
best ham and bean soup in three counties,” he said. Parked at the curb in his
truck, he sat in the front seat with a cell phone to his ear. He grinned out
the window as I approached. “She made a fresh batch of bread rolls and said I’d
be a fool not to bring it over here and have lunch with you.”

Still holding the phone to
my ear I started out the door and down the walk in my bare feet. “It’s a good
thing I haven’t eaten lunch yet then.” I hardly even noticed the damp, chilly
paving stones under my stocking feet.

He held up the phone and
clipped it shut before opening the door. “Even if you had, I would have come up
with another excuse to see you if I needed to,” he said, stepping down onto the
walk as I lowered the phone and turned it off. His admission about doing
whatever he needed to just to see me nudged me to step forward and lean up into
his surprised kiss. The surprise quickly passed and he slid one arm around the
small of my back to draw me in closer. I could feel the pull of his grin
against my mouth as he started to pull away. “I would have come for breakfast
if I’d have known I’d get such a warm welcome.”

“I don’t know,” I stepped
back. “Your breakfast was probably about three hours before mine. I probably
would have been a little on the grumpy side.”

“Good thing I waited until
lunch,” he turned back into the truck and brought out a cooler. “This is still
hot, should we eat?”

Troy followed me up the walk
and into the house. As we passed through the door, I suddenly became
self-conscious of everything around us. My mother was an avid collector of owl
knick-knacks and Dad had quite a collection of Hess trucks in a glass case in
the living room. I could only imagine what he was thinking as we navigated
through the house and into the kitchen, but instead of looking around in
curious disbelief or even disgust, when I turned around after reaching into the
cupboard for two soup bowls, he had his eyes on me.

“I was just talking to
Becky.” I placed the bowls on the table. He opened up the cooler and brought
out a plastic pale of soup. The steam rolled off, the peppery aroma wafting out
as he peeled back the lid.

“How’s her boy, by the way?”

“Oh, he’s fine. Turns out it
was nothing.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, grabbing
the soup ladle and leaving it on the table while I grabbed the butter from the
refrigerator. “Anyway, she wondered if we might want to come over to her place
and have dinner with her and Marty tonight,” I said. “I’ll completely
understand if you don’t want…”