Little Blackbird (8 page)

She sighed and slipped her hand beneath her pillow. The paper felt real enough against her fingers. Perhaps the apology was real as well. Geoffrey had put a lot of effort into saying he was sorry and inviting her to a group outing. She allowed herself a small smile, because regardless of who might comprise this group, Geoffrey wasn’t ashamed to have her join them. It wouldn’t matter if everyone looked at her and believed she had stumbled into the wrong party because Geoffrey would know she belonged there.

It’s a yes, then?

Kate dressed, brushed her teeth, and found her mama and daddy still at the breakfast table drinking Maxwell House coffee and eating scrambled eggs and grits.

“Hey,” she said, “can I go meet some friends at the park today?”

“Well, good morning to you, too, Little Blackbird,” her daddy said.

She slid one arm around his shoulders and gave him a squeeze. He smelled like pine trees and cut cedar. “Good morning.”

Her mama lowered her coffee cup to its saucer. “Who are ‘some friends’?”

“Martha, probably Charlotte, some other people from their neighborhood. Probably Geoffrey Hamilton…a few of them. His friends.”

Her daddy’s fork rested against his plate as he stopped eating. “Boys?”

“Yes, sir.” Kate tried to make eye contact, but his hazel eyes looked at her as though he couldn’t quite figure out who had replaced his daughter with this imposter.
What does he see?
she wondered.

His forehead wrinkled, and the hand he rested on the table clenched. “But boys will be there.”

“Daddy, it’s in the park. Groups go there all the time to have picnics and hang.”

“But
you
don’t,” he said.

“I’m well aware that I’m an awkward nobody and no one ever invites me anywhere, but other kids do this all the time,” Kate said. Her throat tightened. It was one kind of heartbreak to know that kids her own age thought she was uncool, but it was a deeper kind of wound if her parents agreed.

“Your dad doesn’t mean that,” her mama said.

He shook his head. “Absolutely not. I only meant that I don’t know how I feel about you being around boys.”

Kate’s lips parted and she glanced at her mama. “But I’m around boys all the time at school. We’ll be in public, Daddy. Completely out in the open. During
daylight
.”

Her daddy and mama looked at each other. Her daddy’s shoulders lifted in question, and her mama nodded. When her daddy picked up his fork and continued eating, Kate unclenched her fingers.

“Only if your dad drops you off. No riding your bike into town. At least he can see if he approves of the people in the park.”

Kate sighed. “Mama, you know these kids. They’re not roughnecks.”

“Are you sure about that?” she asked.

“Mama,” Kate said with a small groan.

Her mama stood from the table and filled a plate of eggs and grits for Kate. She slid the plate in front of Kate along with a cup of steaming lavender tea. “Maybe your goodness will rub off on them.”

“Oh, yeah, I bet they all want to be just like me,” Kate said, stabbing her scrambled eggs with a fork.

“You’d be surprised.”

A
S KATE AND her daddy neared the park, Kate’s muscles quivered, and she bounced her knees up and down. The blazing August sun beamed off the hood of the car, making it difficult to see anything in front of them. Her daddy turned onto one of the streets that lined the park, and Kate scanned the grassy area for kids her age. She saw a couple of groups of young people sitting on quilts with picnic baskets weighing down the corners. Two young men threw a football back and forth. The ball sailed from Matthias’ hands, and Geoffrey barely shifted his body at all, catching the pass in his long, thin hands. Matthias’ aim was straight.

An ankle brace replaced Geoffrey’s white cast, and there were no crutches in sight. Geoffrey’s head turned just as their car approached, and his green eyes found hers. She pressed herself back against the seat and stared at him, feeling the energy as it twirled its way up her spine and dispersed throughout her body like a starburst, shaking her like a tuning fork. Geoffrey lifted his hand in a wave before walking toward them.

Kate’s daddy slowed the car. She felt her heart slipping up toward her throat, and she swallowed, trying to open up the passageway for air. “You can drop me off here,” she said in a breathless voice.

Her daddy shifted the car into park. She fumbled trying to move out of her seat, and her sweaty fingers slipped off the door handle. She grabbed the plate of lavender cookies her mama made for the picnic, and they tilted in her hand like a seesaw. Her daddy caught them and righted the plate in her hands. His gaze drifted up and out through the windshield.

“Is that Geoffrey Hamilton?” her daddy asked.

“Yes, sir,” Kate said. She flung open the door when Geoffrey was halfway to the car. It didn’t look as though Geoffrey had any intentions of stopping and waiting for her to approach him. He was headed straight for them. Her daddy probably doubted that she had any sort of relationship with Geoffrey—even a speaking relationship—and Kate worried Geoffrey would appear too friendly with her.

“Okay, Daddy, thanks. I’ll see you later.”

“What time should I pick you up?” he asked.

Kate paused. She had no idea how long these sort of get-togethers lasted, seeing as how she’d never been to one. Before she could come up with an answer, Geoffrey stood by the car. He grabbed her car door and leaned down to look inside at her daddy. Sweat glistened on Geoffrey’s forehead and neck. His red-striped button down shirt had been rolled up to his elbows.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Muir,” Geoffrey said. “It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too, Geoffrey. What time, Kate?”

Kate glanced at Geoffrey. “How long do you think we’ll—I mean,
everyone
—will hang?”

Geoffrey shoved the football beneath one arm and shrugged. “A few hours.” He turned to look at her daddy again. “Matthias and I can bring Kate home if you like. I don’t mind.”

Kate watched indecision narrow her daddy’s eyes and thin his lips. He twisted his bear-size hands on the steering wheel. She imagined he was trying to decide whether or not he wanted his only daughter to be left alone in the car with two young men.

“You remember Matthias, don’t you, Mr. Muir?” Geoffrey said with an easy smile. “He’s a few years older than me and played ball with Evan. He’s studying to be a doctor at the university. He just made the Dean’s List again, and he’s apprenticing under my dad this summer at his practice.”

“Yes, of course,” her daddy said. “A good boy.” His jaw relaxed, and he nodded his head at Geoffrey. He scratched his beard. “Sure, thank you for offering, but, Kate, you need to be home before dinner.”

“Yes, sir. Thanks, Daddy.”

“We’ll have her home on time. See you soon, Mr. Muir,” Geoffrey said as he shut the car door and waved to her daddy.

Kate lifted her hand in a pitiful wave. As he drove away, her heart fluttered madly in her chest. She couldn’t believe she was actually standing
in public
with Geoffrey Hamilton. When her gaze drifted toward the quilts, everyone in Geoffrey’s group was watching them. Her spine stiffened.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he said.

“And miss all the stares?” she asked. She grabbed a fistful of her black skirt in one hand and squeezed the plate of cookies in her other. Was it too late to shout for her daddy to stop? Could she toss the cookies into the air and run home?

“What stares?” he asked.

She angled her head toward the others, and Geoffrey followed her gaze.

“Ah, well, they’re curious. They’ve been expecting you. I told them you were coming.”

“But you just said–”

“I was staying positive,” he said with a slow smile. “And I’m glad you did.”

She looked up at his face, unable to stop herself. And then her insides softened like dandelion seeds, feather-light and full of air pockets. Kate felt the pull toward Geoffrey return. She imagined a rope, looped with a slip knot, cinched around her waist, tugging her in his direction. She dug her heels into the soft grass.

Her daddy’s car rounded the corner and drove out of sight. She took a deliberate step away from Geoffrey. “I noticed you weren’t proclaiming your own good qualities to my daddy,” she said, braving another look at him.

Geoffrey grinned. “What good qualities?”

Her gaze shied away from his intense stare, and she laughed, shaking her head. “I’m having second thoughts about spending time with you today.”

Before Geoffrey could comment, Matthias walked up to them.

“Hey, Kate. Good to see you again.”

She exhaled and tried to forget that just yesterday Matthias had dropped her off on the side of the road after a terrible first visit to Honeysuckle Hollow. She glanced toward her schoolmates waiting across the park. What were they thinking? Would they ignore her today just as they normally did in school? Did the usual rules not apply during the summertime? She looked at Matthias instead, wondering if the pity from yesterday remained in his sky blue eyes, but she saw only his smile. A hint of peppermint drifted on the breeze.

“Hey, Matthias. Nice throw,” she said as she pulled her arm back and mimicked his passing stance. The plate of cookies teetered in her hand again, and Matthias steadied the plate.

Then he lifted his open palms in front of his body and shrugged. “If the university doesn’t work out for me, I’m thinking of trying out for the Browns.”

Geoffrey shoved the football against Matthias’ chest. “Keep dreaming, Matt. You’re too scrawny.”

“Which makes you completely out of the question for football then,” Matthias joked.

“Hey, I’m wiry. Quick and agile,” Geoffrey said, flexing his bicep.

“Don’t forget skinny and reminiscent of Ichabod Crane,” Matthias said, and he laughed when Geoffrey punched him in the arm.

The sunlight warmed Kate’s dark hair like cast iron on a hot burner. She reached up and combed her fingers through it, thinking she should have pulled it back from her face or done
something
with it. The other girls’ hair was styled, rolled, pinned up, but hers was long and straight and lying flat against her back.

“Your cast,” she said, looking at Geoffrey. “It’s gone.”

“Nothing gets past you,” he said, bumping into her with his elbow. He walked with a slight limp toward the picnic blankets, and Matthias fell into step beside them. “Got it taken off just this morning actually. Matthias did most of the work. It’s a little uncomfortable, but,
God
, I was sick of that cast. My leg itched so badly. I had to beg Dad to let me remove it early. He advised against it, but I’m going to take my chances.”

As they neared the picnic blankets, Kate found it difficult to concentrate on what Geoffrey was saying. Her skin burned beneath the stares of those waiting and watching, and although the group smiled, a few of the girls’ expressions reminded Kate of porcelain dolls whose smiles were painted and forced.

“Hey, guys, y’all know Kate, I’m sure,” Geoffrey said. “But just to be proper like my mom taught me, this is Kate Muir. Kate, this is Sally Rensforth, Martha Lee, Charlotte LaRue, Betsy Cavenaugh, Ted Fletcher, Mikey Gill, John Kane, and you know Matt.”

A chorus of
heys
greeted her. Kate tried to smile, but her lips felt stiff and unresponsive. She managed to say hello just as a strong breeze rushed across their faces and carried her voice with it. She watched it tangle in the oak trees and then gust off into the scorching, blue sky.

The girls occupied one quilt, and Martha glanced at Charlotte before she scooted over, trying to make room so Kate could join them. As soon as she was settled in her new spot, Martha smoothed out the skirt of her dress, fanning it around her lower body in a perfect semicircle.

Kate inhaled and exhaled slowly in an attempt to stop her insides from feeling as though she’d just sprinted across the suspension bridge spanning across Murphy’s Gorge. Then she sat down between Martha and Betsy. She placed the plate of lavender cookies in front of her.

Kate was so nervous she almost burst out laughing, thinking of how she’d supposedly been at Martha’s house the day before, but Kate contained her mania by folding her hands together in her lap and clutching them together so tightly it was as though she was holding pixie dust during a windstorm.

Kate couldn’t help but notice that all of the girls were dressed in a similar fashion. Full, brightly colored skirts ballooned around them, covering their legs, revealing only their identical ballet flats. Martha’s and Betsy’s dresses were sleeveless and dipped at the neck in a rounded curve, while Charlotte’s and Sally’s dresses had sleeves that stopped at their elbows, cuffed in white trim that matched their white, scalloped collars. Their dresses drew in tightly about their waists, which was meant to accentuate their feminine curves, something Kate did not have.

Kate imagined that when the girls stood, they resembled an assortment of fine baby dolls, their skirts swinging from their waists, looking like church bells. Kate had worn her cleanest, simplest outfit, but her sapphire blue top and calf-length black skirt did nothing more than make her feel like a thistle among the roses. Even if she’d owned an identical dress that matched the girls, she would more likely resemble a broomstick in a dress rather than a blossoming young woman.