I Made You My First (17 page)

“I love you, Hummingbird,” she said in a whisper. 

My eyes were brimming now and it was all I could do to hold my breath to keep from collapsing on the bed and crying my heart out.  When I arose, she had her eyes closed and I took her hand again, “I love you too, Auntie...I love you, too.”  I turned, releasing her hand and heading for the door.

 
              I stepped from the room and silently let myself cry.  I felt hot tears while I stood frozen, letting the pain release itself from my body.  I stood against the wall slowly letting myself slide down to a crouch.  I needed to get John but I couldn’t walk yet.  I couldn’t look at those people’s faces looking the way I did now.  I took a deep breath that sounded like a gulp, wiped my face with my shirt, and tucked my hair behind my ears.  Slowly lifting myself, I took another deep breath and made myself move. 

When I reached the top of the stairs, I looked down into the empty living room.  I took each stair one by one looking around the room.  When I reached the bottom, I heard voices coming from the front of the house and I looked out the picture window.  John and Irish were standing on the porch, maybe five feet from each other and John was yelling at him.  I froze, trying to hear what my brother was saying.  I couldn’t make out any words, so I moved closer to the door staying out of John’s sight.

“That little blue book that you’re so damn proud of had better get burned, and that’s not a request, Irish,” was all I heard. 

After a moment of silence I opened the door.  John looked at me and I knew he must have thought the worst about Auntie.
  “No, she wants to see you,” I said trying to keep my composure. 

John turned and raced passed me, taking the stairs two at a time.  The door slammed behind him and I jumped.  Irish stood still, looking at me. After studying my face, he held his hands out to me and I ran to him, burying my face in his chest and letting the flood gates open.  He held me tightly, gently rocking me with his whole body.  I’m not sure how much time passed, but the slamming of the front door jolted me back to reality.  When I pushed myself from Irish’s body, I saw John standing in the doorway. 

His eyes were red but no tears.  “Uncle Clay’s with her.  She just passed.” 

When I heard his words, I could only think about checking the flowerbed.  I was numb.  I turned and ran down the six steps and stood in front of the daisies as if they held the solution to all of my problems.
Standing there, I realized the flowers were perfect.  Nothing was trampled.  The daisies looked exactly as they did before I’d left for California.  I dropped to my knees and began to sob uncontrollably.  She’d tried to distract me.  She used the flowerbed to let me think about something other than losing her. 
That was her gift to me
, I thought. 

I soon felt Irish’s hands lift me to my feet.  I didn’t resist but let him melt into me.  I finally composed myself and we
just stood there in silence.  I turned into his body and wrapped my arms around him.  I was well aware of John’s presence but I didn’t care.

Looking into Irish’s eyes and speaking loud enough for my brother to hear, I said, “Irish, I’m asking you to marry me.  I want to spend the rest of my life exploring this big world with you.  I want us to take care of each other every day and celebrate our fiftieth anniversary together.”  I dropped my face into his chest, hiding maybe, but waiting to hear his response.  I felt his finger move gently under my chin, pulling my face to his. 

He smiled but looked away from me to John for a moment, and then back to me and said, “Jurnee, it would be my honor to marry and take care of you for the rest of our lives.  You don’t know how happy you’ve just made me.”  He pulled my body into his and I could feel his warm breath under my hair. 

In my ear he softly said, “I love you more than you’ll ever know.” 

I squeezed him and whispered back, “Irish, I love you just as much.”  

I didn’t hear John.  I didn’t hear anything.  I stood there holding Irish in front of Auntie’s daisies.  A chapter of my life had just ended and another was about to begin.  Standing in front of the house in which
they were both born, I knew my mom and aunt were smiling down.

The funeral was beautiful.
  Unknown to me, my aunt and uncle had taken care of everything months before, probably during one of my vacations.  Everything was done exactly the way she wanted it.  John and I actually managed to get along better than ever before, and I was so grateful I had Irish there for moral support.

* * *

We were leaving North Carolina tonight so I’d been up in my room packing my belongings.  Everything that I’d accumulated over the past two years easily fit into three suitcases.  As I was sitting on my bed looking at my luggage, it suddenly made everything feel so real.  My life in this moment was a giant question mark.  I took a deep breath and covered my eyes with both hands.  I could feel myself getting ready to have a
moment
.  First my face froze with a silent cry and then my eyes began to water.  Taking a deep breath and letting it all pass through my body allowed me to get it all out in the privacy of my bedroom.  It usually lasted only a few minutes, and then came the air gulps along with the last of my tears to finish up what I called my
cry-cleansing
. 

As I sat with my head in my hands, I heard a gentle knock on the door.  I wiped my eyes with my shirt and tried to pull myself together.  Sitting straight up, I was ready.  “Come in.”  I watched the door open slowly and smiled when I saw Irish standing there.  He stood in the doorway and
cautiously took several steps into my room. 

He studied my face for a few moments and finally said, “So, this is your room?”

I smiled, “Yep, this is it.” 

Smiling back at me, he
began looking around as if it would tell him my intimate story. I jumped up and walked to the bay window with an old oak bench and a quilted pillow my aunt had made for me.  When I was with her, I used to sit here looking outside or reading almost every day.  I sat down and patted the bench, inviting Irish to sit with me.  We stared out at the beautiful trees that grew alongside the meadow.  They seemed to go forever without another house or building in sight.  I felt him reach for my hand and sandwich it between both of his. 

Not looking at me he said, “You know, you’re going to be happy...I promise.”

I smiled and continued looking out the window, sitting quietly.  “When we get back, you and I will go to San Francisco and get settled there.  We can have all of your things in our new house within a couple of weeks.”  He set my hand on his knee.  I felt him looking at me, so I turned his way and waited for him to continue.  He released my hand and reached for my body, gently pulling me into his and began kissing my head.  The gentle kisses felt comforting. 

In a whisper he said, “I know that this all feels like it’s happening so quickly, but if you can trust me and let me take care of you for just a little while, everything will fall into place. 
You’ll see.”  I didn’t move, staying safely in his arms and enjoying my feeling in that moment.  Suddenly I felt his chest take two simultaneous breaths and I pushed myself from his hold and looked at him.  His eyes were red and glazed.

“Irish, what’s wrong?”  I reache
d my hand to his face and turned it, seeing his tears.

His wasn’t like one of my
moment
cries, but more like many moments.  He neither smiled nor changed his expression.  He just stared at me and I knew that look so well.  It was the look one held onto because he knew if he changed it even just a little bit, he’d be crying.  I didn’t understand why Irish had that look.  Before I saw it coming, he dropped his face into my shoulder.  We both froze there, wrapping our arms around each other.  I didn’t say a word sitting quietly.  I was confused.  Minutes passed and he slowly raised his head.  I looked at him, trying to read his face.  He wiped his eyes and cleared his throat as I waited.

“John’s right, you know,” and he took a deep breath.  “I’ve been a real jerk to many women, and so
his
not trusting me, well I deserve that,” he said still looking in my eyes.  “You won’t ever have to worry about other women, or me cheating on you, Jurnee, I promise you that.  John doesn’t trust me but, I
need
you to trust me; I
need
you to believe that I’d never hurt you...and I need to hear you say it before we board that plane tonight.  I need to
know
you trust me.  Then I’ll be able to ignore what anyone else thinks.”  And he turned and looked out the window.  I saw a tear roll down his cheek. I reached over and gently wiped it away.

“Irish, I trusted you the moment you told me you wanted to start over.  I decided then that I believed you, and you haven’t let me down.”  He turned and looked at me.  I saw a smile.  He took a deep breath and reached out to hug me.  I hugged him back, nestling my face into his soft stubble. 
I did trust him
, I thought,
maybe more than I trusted myself right now
.

“We’re going to be okay, Irish,”
 I whispered.  I felt him run his fingers under my hair, gently massaging my head.

“So it’s agreed then,” he finally said. “When we board that plane tonight, we’re Jurnee and Irish, in a solid relationship forever.”
  I lifted my head from his chest and raised an eyebrow at him.  He stared and gave me his cutest
“what”
face.

“So does that mean you have no intention of marrying me after I almost threw myself at you in front of my brother?”

He gave me the biggest smile and hugged me into his body.  “Oh yeah..,” and he snickered, “I did accept, didn’t I?”

I laughed and slapped his arm, “Yes, Mr. Thompson, you did.” 

We held each other, both feeling a little better and maybe stronger about what was going to happen to us as a brand new couple.

Chapter Nine

When we landed at
 Gillespie Field it was close to four in the morning. Irish and I had slept the entire five hours it took to fly home. We said goodbye to John.  Then Irish and I headed for his car with all three of my suitcases. Once they were packed in the trunk, we climbed in and sat there for a moment. 

“
I could really use a cup of coffee and a cigarette.”

He reached for the ignition but stopped.
  “How about you come to my house and stay with me and I’ll drive you back to Judy’s later today? That way we don’t have to wake her.” I thought about that for a moment.  I’d spoken to Judy several times while we were in North Carolina, and she knew that I’d be coming home today, just not
when
I’d arrive. 

“Is that
what you want to do, Irish? You must be tired; I know I am.” 

“I’
d love for you to come home with me and get a couple hours of sleep.” And he gave me a devilish smile.

I smiled too. “Okay, I’
ll call Judy when we wake up.”

He
winked at me and started the ignition. Irish stopped at the first 7-11 we came to and while he went to buy coffee, I stepped out of the car to smoke.  I tossed the butt in an ashtray when I saw him coming out of the store. He carried a can of whipped cream tucked under his arm and was holding a cup of coffee. I rushed to meet him. He sprayed a mountain of whipped cream on top of the coffee while we headed back to the car. During our ride to his house, we listened to the radio and Irish sang along to several songs. Looking at him, it felt as if I’d known him forever, instead of a little over a week. Why was that? When we finally pulled off the main road and onto the private drive, the big gate that was closed on our first visit now stood open.

“
Well this can’t be good,” Irish said as he drove slowly through the wrought-iron fence. He stopped for a moment, looking at the house that he’d pointed out before as his parents’ home. All of the house lights were on. The sky was just starting to get light, but the glow from the house lights was still clearly visible.  He stared at the house, apparently deciding what he should do.  “Let’s go to my house first and I’ll call my dad from there.”

When we
arrived at the house, we headed for the kitchen
.
Irish reached for his phone, dialing his parents’ number. I put the whipped cream in the refrigerator and snooped around, looking for something to eat. Irish walked into the living room and I heard him talking quietly. Besides some bottled water, six yogurts, a loaf of bread, and a small tub of margarine, it was clear that Irish didn’t eat here often. I closed the refrigerator door and turned around to see him staring at me.

He motioned
with one finger to come to him. He had a devilish grin on his face and I smiled impishly. “There’s something I’ve wanted to do to you for days now,” he said in his sexiest voice.  I stood frozen, but I could feel myself blushing. I took a step toward him, moving closer. His eyebrow went up and he said, “I can’t possibly do what I want to do to you from there,” and I grinned.