October Breezes (5 page)

Once inside, I watched him drive away. As I stood there, my mother walked into the room and asked, “How was your date?”

She smiled, expecting details. She wore her flannel bunny rabbit pajamas and house shoes.

“It was okay.” I headed to my room, stil thinking of Kelin’s kiss. Lying on my bed, I closed my eyes, stil feeling the intensity of his blue eyes. I remembered his strong hand as it held mine.

I don’t know how long I lingered in that memory, but the tapping of stones against glass finaly broke the reverie. Wondering if Kelin had returned, I scurried to my window and raised the blinds. Devin stood there in the ful moonlight, poised with another rock in hand so intent in his aim he failed to realize I'd opened the window.

The pebble whizzed past my head and sailed into my bedroom, where it pinged off the dresser. “What are you doing here?” I whispered loudly, propping my arm on the sil's ledge.

“I wanted to talk.” He sheepishly shoved his hands into his pockets. “Can you come down?”

I glanced at the clock. Midnight. “Are you crazy? Your mother wil kil you if she finds out you're here.”

“That’s a big ‘if.’” He took his basebal cap off and turned it backwards. I don’t think you’re going to tel her. Can you come down?”

Although I knew my mom would kil me if we were caught, I also knew I could pretend to be looking in the garage for a novel which had been packed away. “Meet me around the side.”

I half-expected my mom to be awake and still watching television. Instead, she had slipped off to bed. The downstairs was completely dark save for the kitchen light she always left on. I tiptoed out to the garage and the backyard, where I met Devin.

“What are you doing here?” I opened the gate to let him inside the yard.

“I wanted to make sure you were al right.” He avoided my gaze and shoved his hands deeply into his pockets as though he needed something to do with them.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I shivered and wished I had brought my jacket.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he unsnapped his denim jacket and handed it to me. “You look like you’re freezing.”

“Why did you think you needed to check up on me?” I asked again, slipping my arms into the jacket. I snapped it to block the wind.

“Morgan’s reputation is wel-known.” Devin frowned.

"The colar's tucked in." Without waiting for me to fix it, he reached out and adjusted it.

Nodding, I said, “Yeah, but that doesn’t make it true.”

Devin tapped his fists together. “That doesn’t prove it’s wrong, either. Why are you so quick to defend him?”

I thrust my hands to my hips and glared. “Why are you so intent on damning him?”

“Because I’d rather get to him before he gets to you, not after.”

Furious, I started pacing, shaking my head. “Damn it, Devin, you’re the one who said I should trust people. You can’t have it both ways, you know? You should make up your mind and let me know, al right? In the meantime, you’l be pleased to know I can’t see Kelin this weekend because I have to see my dad.”

I didn’t wait for him to say anything. The last thing he'd do is apologize for caling Kelin a jerk. I hurried inside and locked the side door before hustling back to my bedroom and turning out the light. It was only then that I realized I stil wore his coat. For some reason, I leaned over and sniffed the denim. Maybe it was because I wanted to believe our friendship would get past this. Maybe it was because Devin made me feel safe when no one else could. I couldn’t imagine a world without him. Without taking the jacket off, I climbed into bed, and I fel asleep waiting for the stones against glass that never came.

“Your father caled this morning,” Mom said as I sat at the kitchen table, my fingertips drumming the surface. Her long layered hair softly framed her face. She wore jeans and a sweater and had already set out a juice pitcher. “Why don’t you set the table?”

“What did he say?” My fingers drummed faster as I tried not to get excited. Mom glared at my hand, effectively silencing me.

I grabbed two plates from the cabinets.

“He wants to take you to the movies next Saturday.” She speared the sausage.

I set the plates and regarded her face, trying to figure whether there was something she wasn’t saying. “Is he driving in to see me?”

She extracted the fork. “No. He moved back here.”

I went to the silverware drawer. Frowning, I thought of the last postcard he'd sent. Where had it come from? California?

“When did he come back?”

“This morning was the first I'd heard of it. You were the one getting the postcards.” She pointed to the pantry. “I bought some napkins.”

As I grabbed them, I wondered if it were true. She normaly didn’t lie, but I also knew how angry she stil was at my father. Her terseness suggested that setting up an appointment to have a root canal would be preferable to having this discussion; even talking about this would dredge up bad feelings for her. But maybe my dad wanted to come back. Maybe the Mocking Bird Man was the one causing problems. “Why did he cal? What did he have to say?” I tried not to sound enthusiastic, but I couldn’t help it.

“He caled to talk about you. That’s it. He wanted to set up a time for the movies--not that I think it’s a good idea.” She poked the sausage again, this time setting it on a plate covered with napkins to soak up the grease.

“What do you mean?”

She set the oven. "He’s getting your hopes up again, Skye.”

I ignored the conversation she wanted to have and picked up the newspaper. I robbed the rubber band from around it and used it to pul my hair into a ponytail. “What time is he picking me up?”

“Two o’clock.” She speared more links and set them on the plate before taking the milk from the refrigerator to the table.

“You want milk?”

Shaking my head, I replied, “No, juice.” I picked up the pitcher and filed my glass.

The doorbel rang, and my mom looked at her watch.

“Maybe he’s early."

I frowned and took a sip. Then, after the tart, pulpy liquid had slid down my throat, I asked, “Who?” I set my glass on the table.

“Why, Warren, honey.” She peered at her reflection in the oven door, and she touched the hair around her face, checking it.

“Oh,” I said, my fingers drumming the table. “You’re stil seeing him?” I stood, grabbed another glass, and filed it with juice.

“Of course. He’s a great guy.” She pointed to the stove.

“Watch the sausage while I answer the door.”

She stroled out of the room wearing this sickeningly sweet smile—a smile I don’t think she’d ever worn when she’d thought about my dad, let alone spoken about him. Frustrated, I strode to the stove, prodded the meat, and found each piece done. I fished them from the pan.

A moment later Mom, returned not with Warren but with Devin. He offered me a smile and a wave. “Look who showed up for breakfast,” she said and pointed to where she normaly sat.

“Have a seat and join us.” Devin lowered himself into a chair and tried to make his long legs as unobtrusive as possible.

I brought the plate of sausage to the table. “Don’t you have any Fruit Loops?”

“Nope. I ate the rest yesterday.” Devin grinned deviously. "And you know how I love to eat."

“Skye, don’t be rude!” Mom said and smiled at Devin,

“Don’t mind her foul disposition.” Then she turned to me and waved her index finger in warning. “Get Devin a plate and glass, please.”

“Fine,” I muttered and retrieved a plate and glass I set in front of him.

"Can I have a fork, too?" He flashed me a fake smile.

"Grrr!" I snapped, striding to the silverware drawer and grabbing a fork, a knife, and a spoon. "Here!" I snapped. "This should cover al the bases!"

“Thank you.” He gave me a saccharin smile. “And by the way, don’t be rude.”

I glared, biting my tongue to keep from saying what I realy felt. My mother began scrambling eggs, the metal wisk ringing against the bowl. The oven beeped, letting me know that it had preheated.

“Put the biscuits in the oven, please.”

“Okay,” I said, heading to the fridge to retrieve a can of biscuits. I loaded the dough onto the baking sheet and shoved it in the oven.

My mother turned the eggs. “So, Devin, are you dating anyone?”

A flush crept into his cheeks. “No, not presently, Mrs.

Wiliams.” His fingers fumbled with the napkin, and he dropped his fork. Smirking, I got him another one.

"What about your lab partner, Bethany?" I asked innocently.

Devin shot me a scathing glance. "We're just friends."

My mom filed her own plate. “Wel, it appears that Skye has a new beau.”

I cringed, jerked my napkin from the table, and smacked it onto my lap. “Beau? Speak English, Mom.” I glared at Devin, warning him to keep his opinions to himself.

“Al right,” Mom agreed, arching her eyebrows. “Skye has a new boyfriend–Kelin Morgan. Do you know him?” Her weighted stare told me she trusted Devin's opinion.

Devin clenched his jaw and cleared his throat. He stiffened. “No, Ms. Wiliams, I can’t say I realy know him much at al. I mean, I’ve seen him around, but that’s about it.” He kept staring at his food as if he expected it to grow legs and walk away.

He lifted the fork to his mouth and ate. Once his eggs had vanished, he polished off his sausage.

“Can’t we talk about something else?" I suggested, tapping my fork against the plate. "How about Daddy?”

Before she’d managed to respond, the doorbel rang a second time, saving her. “That would be Warren. Excuse me.” She set her napkin on the table and left.

“What are you doing here?” I hissed, stil glaring.

“I came to see you. To apologize.” Devin pushed away his empty plate. “I hated the way we left things last night. Maybe I shouldn’t have come on so strong.” His gaze sought me out.

“Maybe I don’t know Kelin; maybe he deserves a chance.”

I picked up my fork and pushed my eggs, merging them with the sausage. “What's wrong with you this morning? You’re acting weird, like aliens have abducted my best friend and left an impostor.”

He didn’t get a chance to respond before Mom came back with Warren. The moment Warren walked in, he smiled at me. He wore Docker jeans with a knit shirt tucked in. A brown leather belt and loafers completed his ensemble. “Good morning, Skye. How are you doing?” My mother held his hand.

I forced a syrupy grin as I said, “Oh, I’m just great.

Considering my dad just caled, how could I be better?" I gauged his expression and felt disappointed by his neutral smile—so I upped the stakes. "My mother was so glad to hear from him.”

“Skye,” she said in a warning tone. The color washed from her face, and a scowl replaced the smile. She picked up Devin’s plate and rinsed it.

“He did cal, Mom,” I argued. I picked up a sausage link and took a bite. “Mmmm. This is realy yummy.” Trying not to be too conspicuous, I watched for Warren's expression to change.

Warren smiled even brighter. “That’s great that you heard from your dad. I know your mother was realy worried that he hasn’t been in touch with you the way he should have. What did he say?” He stepped toward me, awaiting my response.

I leaned back in my chair and lifted the front two legs off the floor. “He wants to take me to the movies this weekend.” I glanced at my mother, who loaded the dishwasher. “I thought maybe my mom would want to join us.”

“Skye!” Mom snapped, slamming the dishwasher shut.

“Put that chair on the ground and be quiet.” She was so mad her whole body shook. She jerked the dial, and the dishwasher hummed to life.

Warren turned toward her, his palm finding her shoulder and squeezing. “It’s al right. We’ve talked about this.” The smile stil lit his face, and his voice seemed calmer than it had been. Then he turned to me. “I realy hope you have a great time, and I hope he realizes just how lucky he is you miss him so much.”

Mom eyed her stil-ful plate and glared at me. “Warren and I wil be going out. Maybe you’l be better mannered when we return.” She nodded toward Devin. Patting his arm, she said,

“Don’t be a stranger.”

“They don’t make them any stranger than him,” I muttered, watching the two of them leave, Warren stil unphased. Devin nodded and waited until he heard the front door slam shut before he exploded. “What the hel has gotten in to you?” The color had drained from his face, and he couldn't have looked at me any more strangely if I'd grown a third eye right in the middle of my forehead.

"If I'd spoken to my mom that way, she'd have slapped me into next week."

“Did you see him holding my mom’s hand?” I stood and picked up my plate, preparing to dump the rest of the sausage I no longer found appealing.

“Are you going to eat that?”

“No!” I snapped, smacking the plate down in front of him.

“Help yourself.” I walked to the window and looked at the backyard where the trampoline stood, the same trampoline on which, as kids, Devin and I had spent countless hours jumping together. “Did you see them?” I persisted loudly. "She acts like she's in high school again."

Devin speared the sausage with a fork. “Yeah, I did see them. Couples do that, Skye, and they are a couple, no matter how you feel. Besides, Warren seems decent.”

“He's mental!” I crossed my arms over my chest. “What’s wrong with him? He’s so damned calm. If he’s not worried about my dad caling, he should be. That shows he doesn’t realy care about Mom.”

Devin brought my plate to the dishwasher and loaded it.

“Let me get this straight.” He grabbed my shoulder and turned my body so I'd have to face him. Then he lifted my chin, forcing eye contact. Knowing that the minute he moved it away, I'd break our gaze, he kept his fingers in place. “You think he doesn’t care because you love your dad and he’s not feeling threatened?”

“Wel, yeah,” I replied, frowning. I liked it better the way I’d phrased it.

Devin saw a strand of hair in my face and gently pushed it behind my left ear. “There’s no reason he should be threatened, Skye. There’s room in your heart to love lots of people, not just your father. Besides, your mom and dad have been divorced for years.”

“That doesn’t mean they can’t get back together,” I protested. I folded my arms across my chest.