Magic Hands (7 page)

Her interest in acting was pricked after she saw Jennifer bravely take on roles in junior high. This reading on the side was her own little secret, and until she felt ready to let the world in on it, it would remain just that.

There were seven gathered tonight; some in wheelchairs, others propped on couches and chairs scattered in the room.

They al perked up when she entered. The sight warmed her heart and brought a smile to her face.

“Hey.” She laughed when some of the old guys pul ed her down for a kiss on the cheek.

“Here’s our girl.” With a twinkle in her eye, Mannie was always happy to see her. The older woman patted Rachel’s hand. “What are you going to read to us tonight, lovey?”

Rachel pul ed a seat up close to the little semi circle, since hearing was an issue for most of them. “Hamlet.”

“Oh,” gushed Lily, her frail hands clasped to her chest.

“One of my favorites.”

Martin Fowler scowled. “Blitsy, I say.”

“Want me to wheel you over to the window so you can look out at the deer?” Rachel asked him before she began reading.

“Hel no. A blitsy love story is better than watching a herd of dul deer any day.”

“I’d hardly cal Hamlet a love story, Martin.” Mannie shook her head. “It’s a tragedy.”

“Aren’t they al love stories?” Martin shot.

“See?” Lily nodded. “You do like our girl.”

“Wel of course I like her,” Martin scoffed. “I just don’t agree with her choice of reading material.”

“Wel she’s not going to come in here and read an old war book, not when you’re out numbered five to one, Martin.”

Mannie pointed her finger at him.

“Why not?” Martin asked. “Spies and bombs would be a hel uva lot more entertaining than dancing and romance. Or Shakespeare. Maybe I wil go over to the window after al .”

In a burst of pride, he tried to wheel himself away from the wide-eyed gathering, but his feeble body was too weak.

Rachel pushed him to the window. She tried not to smile.

Little bickerings were common between Martin and Mannie.

She often wondered if the two old people real y liked each other and were just juvenile about their feelings.

“Anytime you want me to come get you,” Rachel whispered to him, “raise your hand or wave.”

“I’l do neither tonight!” Martin turned away from her.

Rachel joined the others. The eager faces of the women touched her heart. She opened the script, one of many she col ected, and started reading.

As usual, she threw herself into the story and the characters, playing each role with such enthusiasm she lost track of time. When she finished, she blushed at the soft applause that fol owed.

“Is there anybody special in your life, lovey?” Mannie asked.

“Heavens yes.” Lily leaned forward with effort. “She’s so beautiful. There are many young men in love with her.”

Rachel’s cheeks heated. “Nobody’s in love with me, Lily.”

“Why not?” Agatha asked. Usual y she said nothing, her oxygen tube the only hum Rachel ever heard from the woman. “What’s wrong with them?”

“I should say,” Mannie protested. “They need their eyes examined is what’s wrong with them.”

“I have lots of guy friends,” Rachel said.

“So you say,” Mannie piped. “But a girl as pretty as you should have young men knocking down her door.”

Lily nodded her little head. “In my day, I had fifteen suitors at one time. Good-looking fel ows at that.”

“I’m sure.” Rachel couldn’t keep the smile from her face.

The fervor these ladies felt for her social life was hilarious.

“But I’m not interested in getting serious.”

“And why not?” With great effort, Martin had made it half-way across the floor to them. Rachel wheeled him back to the little circle.

“Because—”

“Mannie’s right,” Martin scoffed. “You should find a fel a and settle down.”

Rachel laughed. “I’m only seventeen.”

“I was engaged at your age,” Lily’s soft voice was light and dreamy. “Met my Henry when those packs of young men were coming around. He was one of them.”

“See?” Martin boomed.

“But girls don’t get married that young anymore,” Rachel protested good-naturedly.

“That’s the problem with society.” Mannie was getting worked up, Rachel could tel by the way her face reddened.

“If young people found their companions and settled down, there would be less trouble, I know it.”

“Nonsense.” Martin waved disagreeably at her. “Marriage has everything to do with trouble.”

“I was wonderful y happy with my Henry for seventy years,” Lily said. Rachel’s heart ached for the little woman whose eyes misted now.

“Guys.” She didn’t want the discussion getting out of hand. “I’m not going to get married any time soon. I have to graduate, go to col ege.”

“Wel at least find yourself somebody to be arm-in-arm with, lovey,” Mannie said. “Bring him round to meet us, wil you?”

Lily nodded. “Oh, how lovely to meet him. What did you say his name was?”

Rachel laughed. “I didn’t say.” She stood and kissed each one on their soft cheeks. Martin grabbed her arm and kept his shaking hand on it as he pul ed her down for a whisper.

“You don’t listen to those old dames. You take your time but don’t wait too long or you’l end up like me.”

Martin had never married. He often complained about it, along with everything else he complained about. But Rachel sensed the deep regret behind those complaints.

“Next week bring us the Dirty Dozen,” he told her, loud enough so the women would hol er at him. They did.

Rachel walked to her car with a smile but inside she carried a dul , familiar ache. It was always like this when she left Countryside—joy mixed with sorrow. She never left without thinking about life, love, and choices.

When she had her first serious crush, she was devastated that the boy had been childishly cruel and ignored her. It hurt her young heart so much she swore she would never be serious about another boy until she was mil ions of miles away from Pleasant View and in her late twenties at the very least.

The commitment was extreme, and kept her home a lot of weekends because she refused to go on single dates—

choosing instead to hang with friends in groups. She couldn’t believe she’d made it to her senior year without going to a dance or a prom or anything else like it.

It wasn’t for lack of friends or invitations. Al of her friends were guys and al of them at one time or another had asked her out. But she preferred hanging in a casual group. That way, things never got too deep. Her feelings stayed intact. She was afraid of getting hurt, a secret she only admitted to herself.

She thought of Cort as she drove by the now-dark Chachi’s. Something about him was different than her other guy friends. Probably the part of her that was guy-starved imagined Cort was different—because she wanted him to be.

She pul ed into her driveway.
You’re doing it again, setting
yourself up.
This same kind of irrational emotional thinking had made her think her first crush was different—and he hadn’t been.

But then they’d only been in sixth grade.

The house was dark, her parents had gone to bed and the usual note was stuck to the fridge for her.

Rache-Dad flies out tomorrow so we went to bed early. Some
boy named Cort came by for you around nine-fifteen. What a cutie. Is this someone I should know about? We’ll talk over breakfast.

Love, Mom

Cort Davies was going for
her
. Rachel smiled, enjoying a delicious fluttering deep inside. Maybe she’d let the feeling stay a little tonight, it felt so good and completely dissolved any of the sad feelings she often carried for hours after being at Countryside.

She grabbed a yogurt, set the house alarm and went up to her bedroom. The house was quiet, the way she was accustomed to, when the thumping sounds of their five cats at play was the only sound that bounced off the wal s.

She went right to her computer and got on Facebook.

One of the guys from her group of friends had messaged her and she clicked on it, disappointed the message wasn’t from Cort.

TOD:
Rache, Just wanted to ask again – for the dance
tomorrow night. Come on, can’t you, just this once? For me?

For a second, Rachel let herself think about what she would do if the invite was from Cort. Going to a dance with Cort Davies would definitely start a rumble of gossip. Being seen with him would launch her into a stratosphere she wasn’t sure she wanted to orbit in.

She’d never strove for popularity, always the center of attention in her own comfortable way, and that worked for her. But no teenage girl could deny how excel ent it would be to be seen with a guy like Cort.

But a guy
like
Cort wasn’t who she’d be seen with. She let the brief fantasy of the two of them continue in her mind.

Cort is who she’d be seen with. He was the top of the social ladder at Pleasant View.

She dipped into her yogurt then typed a reply to Todd.

sorry, toddy. can’t. you know how i am.

Sitting back, yogurt in hand, Rachel stared at the screen knowing ful wel that if Cort was asking, she’d be tempted to say yes. As cute as Cort was, as interesting as it was to watch him make moves for her, she’d have to do just as she did with any other guys—refuse. That was the only way not to have her heart derailed.

The instant message popped onto the screen and that warm fluttering in her bel y returned.

CORT: hey.

RACHEL: heard you came by

CORT: wanted to ask you something but it’s too late now

RACHEL: hmm. going to tel me or keep me in the dark?

CORT: doesn’t matter now. your mom’s nice. i didn’t know your dad was an airline pilot. no wonder you get around RACHEL: i’l take it you meant geographical y. yeah, we’ve always traveled. nice perk CORT: lucky you. the rest of us have to earn it RACHEL: hey, wait a minute. my dad’s gone half the month. we earn it, believe me CORT: O man Sorry

Cort stopped, waiting to see if she was mad. That was the last thing he wanted to do—make her mad at him. After a long pause, she replied: RACHEL: you stil there?

CORT: i didn’t mean anything by it. sorry A guy who could apologize. Rachel liked that. Another point for Cort. Now, he’d pricked her interest asking her something and then not asking her. She had to know what it was.

RACHEL: i’l forget it if you tel me why you came by CORT: it’s too late. there’s no point Truthful y, Cort was afraid if he told her and she didn’t like the idea of going to the dance with him, she’d be turned off before he had a chance to prove himself.

CORT: you going to the dance tomorrow night?

RACHEL: was that it?

CORT: no

Rachel chewed on the spoon in her mouth, disappointed.

RACHEL: no, I’m not going

CORT: me either. i have to work

Rachel felt a rush of relief. He wasn’t going with anyone—good. She decided to let down her guard just a little.

RACHEL: so i can come in and get my nails done then?

Hadn’t he been waiting for that for al week now? He’d count the hours until tomorrow.

CORT: i’l be there, if that’s what you mean RACHEL: so, what happened?

CORT: what do you mean?

RACHEL: i didn’t think you ever missed a dance.

CORT: this wil be the first but, hey, it’s cool. i’l get to spend the night with you Rachel’s spine tingled. He was dangling himself as bait.

No wonder he was so hot. If she could, she’d reach through the computer and… After that, wel , she wasn’t sure what she’d do but she was pretty sure it would include wrapping her arms around him.

RACHEL: you have a way with words

CORT: just tel ing it like it is. so, where were you tonight your mom said you were at work. i didn’t think you worked Rachel set aside her spoon, tried not to feel irritated that he thought she was some rich, spoiled girl who didn’t do anything but live off of her parents’ money.

RACHEL: i have to go now

Cort’s pulse skipped. He’d screwed up.

CORT: did i say something?

RACHEL: you said enough

CORT: let me say i’m sorry again. wil that help?

RACHEL: maybe

CORT: i didn’t mean anything by the not working comment. ok, i’l admit, i heard you were rich. i saw your house tonight, and you drive the beemer can you blame me?

RACHEL: no, and i can’t expect you to be different than anybody else, either. see you later, Cort.

CORT: rache, wait

Cort waited for her to respond, his fingers tapping on the desk. He couldn’t believe he’d blown it. In two seconds he’d blown it. Would she leave it at that? He typed again, desperate.

CORT: rache? if i had your phone number, we could talk. i could – i don’t know, say i’m sorry again, kiss your feet, wash your car – something.

Cort ran his hands down his face and let out a sigh, staring at his own words on the screen.

RACHEL: you’d wash my car?

CORT: right now.

RACHEL: you’d kiss my feet?

CORT: i’d kiss wherever

Rachel shuddered thinking about it.

RACHEL: i’m not going to touch that. i’l see you tomorrow at school

CORT: what about your nails?

RACHEL: my nails need to be done so i’l see you at Miss Chachi’s around seven Cort sat back on a groan. She played him like a yo-yo, and it drove him lusciously crazy. He’d never sleep now, not with her surging through his veins.

He fel onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling where a poster of Sundance ski resort was tacked. He’d stuck the poster there years ago; found that dreaming about the slopes helped relax him on nights like this. But that was before he knew about girls. About how girls could keep his blood in a whirl that nothing could slow.

He wanted to talk to Rachel on the phone, hear that low, bass and guitar voice of hers. He wanted tomorrow to be here.

He had a long night ahead of him, an even longer day with work. Until then, the poster wouldn’t be enough.

He got up, sat down in front of his computer and clicked onto favorites. From there, he was one click away from the New York City web cam.