Just For You (13 page)

Maybe Today You Can Put The Past Away

It was a lot greener than she expected.

Cameron was staring ahead at the road. There was nothing much for her to look out at from the window, save for rows and rows of large, looming trees. Every now and then she could make out a house in hiding.

"Maybe I should have moved out here instead of into the city," Imogen said, running her fingers softly up and down her left arm. Cameron spared a second to pass a glance at her. She was turned from him, her right temple flush with the cold glass of the window, her eyes drinking in all they possibly could.

"You really like it that much?"

She murmured something akin to a yes.

Cameron pursed his lips. "The city does get a little stifling once in a while. It's all the dirty air."

"Are you trying to be conversational?" Imogen smiled.

He licked his lips. "Would you prefer silence?"

Imogen's eyes flickered to the radio, which hadn't been touched since they got into the car an hour and a half ago. "No. Please keep talking. It's peaceful."

But now he realized he had nothing to say. He began to feel that tension of awkwardness rise up from his belly and perforate his shoulders and neck.

The freeway was free of other cars for miles. Imogen felt as if she and Cameron were the only two left on earth. Everyone else had abandoned the world, but the two of them- they were survivors. It left a strange sense of calmness in her. There, in that car, at that exact moment, nothing could touch them. Nothing at all.

She closed her eyes.

"
What's this?" She slammed the door shut and her father, coming around the front of the car, stood next to her. She saw from the corner of his eye the way he took her mother's hand.

"
This is our new house," he said. "What do you think of it?"

It was large. Its face was painted a sunny yellow, and large, looming pillars were littered all the way around the house. The top porch was sagging a bit. Vines sprawled across the dirty steps leading up to the front door. Spanish moss from the trees lay broken on the ground of the walkway.

"
It's… old." Imogen said, squinting her eyes against the sun. She tilted her head as far back as it would go so she could get a better view of the house in its entirety.

Her mother laughed. "That's why we're going to fix it up, silly." She placed her free hand on the top of Imogen's head.

"
Don't tell me you already bought it."

"
Of course we did." Her father sauntered up the steps and sat on the old bench next to the door under a window. The bottom fell out of it under his weight.

The three of them laughed.

Imogen took in a deep breath. "Is this house the one you grew up in?"

Cameron nodded.

"Why did you ever leave? I think, after having seen what's outside Chicago, I don't ever want to go back."

"The countryside is beautiful," he agreed. "But have you seen Chicago at night?"

Imogen licked her lips and leaned back in her seat. They watched a few bicyclists as they passed them. Then they were the only people on the road again.

"I'm sorry."

Imogen turned toward Cameron. He shrugged a shoulder.

"I'm not much of a talker."

"You don't have to be. I'm comfortable with silence. The fact that you're even trying to make conversation is refreshing, though."

"Believe me, were it anyone else."

"You wouldn't have said the same thing two months ago. What changed your mind?"

What had changed his mind? It had to be her persistence. No one ever stuck around as long as she did. Granted, Cameron had to admit that he wasn't an easy person to get along with- sometimes he couldn't even stand himself.

"I suppose I've just learned to deal with you now."

Imogen laughed and ran her hands through her hair. "Todd was right when he told me diligence works with you."

"Todd?"

"Of course. He knows what's best for you, even more than you do."

"You're telling me you're best for me?"

"I'm best for everyone. Come to terms with it. You can't escape it."

"You mean I can't escape you."

"Not even if you tried."

"My future doesn't look bleak at all."

"If you don't resist, it could actually be fun."

Cameron tried to hide a smile but Imogen noticed it. She laughed, placing her palm on his forearm, which rested comfortably on the center console. His arm hair prickled up under his jacket.

"This is nice. If you'd been like this when we first met I definitely would have gone through a lot less work."

"I make people work for my friendship," Cameron said, his eyes roaming the road. A car was coming toward them on the opposite side.

His eyes flickered over to where her hand still rested on his arm. He wondered if she would ever move it. He wondered if she even realized she was touching him. He wondered if he liked her touch. He wasn't recoiling the way he used to.

She cleared her throat and suddenly he was very aware of her fingers squeezing around him. "Are you seeing anyone?"

The question caught him off-guard. Lately she'd been doing that to him and still he could never quite prepare himself for one of her off-kilter questions. He ran his tongue across the back of his bottom teeth. "Are you expecting my answer to be yes?"

"No."

"Well then are you expecting my answer to be no?"

"No."

"Are you expecting me to say 'you'?"

Imogen's heart puttered and stopped. "What? No. Absolutely not."

Cameron was satisfied. It was his turn to take her by surprise and he'd done it. "I am in a loving and understanding relationship. With myself."

Imogen shoved him and went back to looking out the passenger side window, placing her feet against the dashboard. She shook her head and covered her own grin with her hand.

"It's a bad idea to sit like that. If we get in an accident your knee is going to go through your teeth."

"Oh, look at you, all paternal."

"It's a habit. When you have a younger brother it's a role forced upon you."

Imogen's knees came down and she sat forward. "You have a younger brother?" She asked.

He nodded. "And an older brother."

"Will I get to meet them?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll get to meet the entire neighborhood. Don't you fret."

"How exciting," she gushed.

"You act like you've never met other human beings before."

"Not any that are related to you!" She stuck her tongue out.

"Touché."

* * * *

The dining table wasn't any less elaborate than the rest of the house. It stood in the center of the dining room- which was more like a banquet hall than a room- lavishly decorated in a color scheme of snow white and scarlet red; there were no less than six eating utensils at each setting; three plates all differing in size, stacked one on top of the other; and both a wine and a water glass at each place. A large candelabrum stood right in the center, with two large ceramic vases filled with red roses and white lilies (picked from the garden, of course) on either side.

Imogen felt overwhelmed as Mrs. Moody took her on the grand tour, first through the foyer, decorated with
fête galante
art, the same kind seen in the French
salons
of the eighteenth century. Imogen wondered if the pieces were originals or replicas. At this point she couldn't place her bet accurately. Next was the formal dining room. Next was the library. Last were the rooms.

Imogen's room was large, with a canopy bed with deep emerald drapes around a mahogany bedframe. There was an antique vanity against one wall and large French windows.

"I hope you'll be comfortable here," Sylvia smiled.

Comfortable was an understatement.

Sylvia turned and left the room, leaving Imogen to walk around and familiarize herself with her new surroundings. She placed her bag, which now looked meager and low-class to her, onto the floor and shoved it under the bed.

She heard a cough behind her and turned to see Cameron leaning against the door. Imogen's mouth was still hanging open.

"I can't believe this is where you grew up."

"Believe me, it was torture as a child. 'Don't touch this, don't get this dirty.' It's no fun when you're ten. You couldn't care less about antiques. In fact, I still kinda don't. 'Hey, here's something really old. Let's not ever get rid of it, even though it's hideous and prone to breaking easily.'"

Imogen bounced on the bed.

"My mom wanted me to tell you that dinner will be ready shortly. That's why I'm here."

"It's not everyday you join women in their bedrooms, is it?"

Cameron's breath was knocked out of him. Again. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. Um. Anyway. Dining room. You know where it's at."

* * * *

Sylvia and George Moody sat at opposite ends of the table. Imogen and Cameron were placed at either end of Sylvia, facing each other. Bobby and Sarah sat to Imogen's right. Their two daughters, who ate an earlier, separate dinner, were playing outside. Alex, the youngest of the Moody children, sat to his father's right.

Imogen tried to keep her eyes on her bowl of soup, so as not to seem rude. Never before had she been so self-conscious about her own eating habits.

Cameron watched her. His divided attention only caught bits and pieces of the polite conversation between his sister-in-law and his parents.

"The dance recital went fantastically. I have the video tape, since you two couldn't make it."

"I'd love to see it."

"Maybe tonight."

Imogen caught Sarah's eyes and they smiled. She was a nice enough lady. Very pretty. She looked younger than her age. Her daughters looked like her.

"What do you do for a living, Imogen?" Sarah was speaking to her. It took her a few moments to realize.

"Oh," she dropped her head. "I work as a desk clerk at a bookshop in the city."

"You live in Chicago, too?" Bobby, the eldest, asked. It was easy to tell he was related to Cameron. They looked almost exactly alike. If it hadn't been for the fine lines around his eyes, Imogen might have guessed the two were twins. She nodded.

"Yes. I haven't been there long. The drive over here I kept telling Cameron how much I love the countryside. I might be a converted girl, I think."

Bobby and Sarah laughed. Imogen watched Bobby place his hand atop his wife's. "It's a nice place to settle down. It's too hectic trying to raise children in the city."

"I imagine so," Imogen said. She looked up at Cameron. They both looked swiftly away from each other. "Your daughters are beautiful, by the way."