Out (15 page)

I don’t know
what to say to that, so I just smile, hoping I look somewhat genuine. David
saves me by saying, “Chris, sit down. We’d like to talk to you.”

 
I glance out the window.
 
Hours to go before I see her again. For now,
I sit, as instructed.

McFarland
smiles, his brown, piggish eyes crinkling at the edges. I think of what Ben
said, what Sam told me about the Cave, about how this man condemned people to
live there. It’s hard to look at him. It makes me feel stronger, though,
thinking about what he did.

“So, how’s
school, Chris?” he asks, slurping up more Margarita.

“Fine.” I shift
in my seat. I nod, as if there’s more to say, but there really isn’t.

David jumps in,
of course. “Chris has one of the top GPAs at school,” he brags. “He’s very
smart. I wanted him to get involved in some sports, or some social action work,
but he’s so busy with his hobby.”

“Oh, what hobby
is that?” McFarland cocks his head sideways, studying me.

“Astronomy,” I
blurt out. I don’t really want to tell him anything about myself but it seems
like the best way to avoid any more analysis of my grades or what I spend my
time doing.

“Studying the
stars, eh?” McFarland nods as if he approves. “Great. We have a fantastic
observatory in California. If you go to
Westhaven
, I
could probably get you an internship.” He nods again, as if his head is on a
swivel. “Assuming, of course, that you have the good sense to go to
Westhaven
.”

They laugh as
if someone has told an especially good joke. God, all I want to do it bolt up
out of this chair and run away! But if this is going to work, if I’m really
going to do anything meaningful with my life, I have to stay glued to this spot
for the moment. I have to convince this man that I want to go somewhere with
him. I’d pray for help, but I don’t think God would answer.

“You know
where’s a great place to see stars?”
 
Words tumble out of my mouth almost as if they are independent of my own
thought. “Indian Lake. It’s a resort about fifty miles from here, gorgeous
cabins, no ambient light. You can see billions of stars.” There. I put it out
there. Let’s see if he takes the bait. My stomach is flopping around like a
fish out of water.

“Indian Lake?”
McFarland shoots a glance at David. “Sounds fun.”

Warren sweeps
into the room. “Ready for some chips and homemade guacamole?” He presents a
ceramic platter filled with salsa, crispy chips, and the creamy green spread.
Seems like a good time to escape.

What to say?
How can I make it sound believable and still get away from this crocodile? “Hey,
I have to call
Andi
...we agreed to work on our
project over the phone at…uh…” I check my watch, “Now. So, I’ll be back as soon
as we’re finished.”

Before David
can object, I bolt upstairs like something is chasing me. I hear him say, “Chris
is very responsible about school. A great student.” Right.

Upstairs, I
knock at Jana’s door, and go right on in.
 
She asks, “What did you tell them?”

“Study date
with
Andi
. On the phone.”

“That won’t buy
you too much time.”

“I know.” I
pace like a tiger in a too-small cage.

“Dude, you’re
going to wear out my carpet. Sit down.” She pats the bed next to her. “I have
an idea for you, for later. You need to get out after supper, right?” I nod. “He
might have left by then, but if not, I’ll come down and give them some sob
story about how I need you to help me with this essay I’m writing.”

“Who’s going to
believe that you’d want help with an essay?” I moan. “You don’t give a flip
about school.”

“Okay, okay.
What then?” She closes her eyes and bites the inside of her cheek, her standard
thinking pose. “Hmm. Wait. Maybe…yes. Genius.”

“What?”

“You tell him
that after supper, you’re going with me to Bible study at a friend’s house. How
can they argue with that?”

“Bible study.
That has got to be the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard, Jana. You and me? Bible
study?”

But after I go
back downstairs (milking the “phone call” for a solid 45 minutes), it becomes
clear that McFarland has no intentions of leaving. We polish off lunch, we talk
about church issues, we talk about college. He manages to awkwardly find his
way to the kitchen twice while I am alone (once getting water and once just
trying to escape.) Dinnertime rolls around; Warren, who I know is fuming at the
imposition, insists we order a pizza, which we do. It arrives, we eat it, and I
watch nervously as the day slips into night.

Jana walks down
the stairs looking for supper and I nod to her in what I hope will be a clear
sign that yes, I was down for Bible study. She grabs a slice of pizza, folds it
in half, and devours it, strings of cheese hanging from her lip. “Hey, so,
Chris,” she says, her mouth full. “Isn’t it, like, six o’clock? We have that
thing to go to, don’t we?”

“What thing?”
David asks.

“Book club,”
she says, smiling broadly. “I know, who would’ve thought that Chris and I would
share a love of books, right? But we’re trying to bond, you know. Before he
goes off and gets married or something.” Jana wipes her hands on a napkin, then
grabs another piece of pizza. “So, we’d better go. We’re walking, right? Need
to stay fit.” She pretends to stretch.

At this point,
I want to kill her. It is so obvious that there’s some sort of scheme here that
only an idiot would fail to see it. But David smiles. “Well, that’s really
nice, Jana. I’m glad you and Chris are getting along so well.” He turns to
McFarland. “See? They are just such blessings.”

Warren, who is
draped over the sofa and clearly has a tequila buzz, grins at us. “Book club.
What are you reading?”

Jana stares at
me. I’m really the only one who ever picks up a book, so I blurt out the only
thing I can remember reading in school: “Night by
Elie
Wiesel.”

Warren sniffs. “A
little light reading, huh? Well,
godspeed
kids. I
prefer the romance genre, myself.”

That’s it.
We’re free, as impossible as it seems. The three men start talking about some
cooking-related thing, about some kinds of pans or something, as Jana and I
slip out the back door. She squeals gleefully. “That was awesome!” she says.
She kisses my cheek. “You go have fun.”

“Where are you
going? Shouldn’t we come back together?”
 

She snorts. “I’m
certainly not going with you. I’ll meet you back here in an hour.”

“That’s not
enough time—”

 
Jana puts a finger to my lips. “You can’t risk
staying out too long. One hour. Tell her I said hello.” She skips with me to
the end of the driveway, out of the circle of the porch light, then darts down
the road toward town. I continue on into the thicket of trees.

I run through
the field behind the house, breathe, breathe, try to be invisible. Focus in the
dark, trying to find the path to that tree. Leaves crunch, cold wraps around me
like a frozen coat. I stop, heart pounding.

“Chris?” A
small voice whispers.

She’s there,
huddled next to that tree, and I fall on her like waves on a beach. I drink in
the scent, the feel of her hair, the softness and warmth of her skin, will my
fingers to memorize the contour of her waist under a scratchy woolen sweater. “I
didn’t know if you’d come,” she whispers. Her words are caresses.

“You knew I
would.” How could I stay away? She’s my hope. The fire that burns in me now.
She woke me up, and she’s here…still here. She isn’t running from this. From
me. How could I ever run? How could I ever deny this?

 
I lift her into my lap, wrap my arms around
her, settle my face in her neck as if it’s always meant to be there. I am so
afraid and so full of joy, afraid to breathe and afraid not to breathe. I want
to melt into her even as I want to run screaming from the woods, to pretend
this was all a nightmare. But it’s also the most real dream I’ve ever had.

“Hey.”

“Hmm?” She
looks up, the moonlight silvering her face.

“What do you
want to do? When you grow up?”

She laughs. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

She inches up
so the top of her head is at my chin. Her hair, all jasmine and
woodsmoke
, tickles my lips. “I guess….I always wanted to
write. Books, you know.”

“Me too!” I
stroke her hair. “But I don’t really write very much. I read a lot.”

“I love to
read.” She snuggles closer. “Who’s your favorite?”

“Ray Bradbury.”

She sits up,
startled. “
Fahrenheit 451
?”

“Absolutely.
And
The Chronicles of Narnia
. I love
those books.”

She laughs,
delighted, as if I’ve given her a Christmas present. “I used to disappear into
my mom’s walk-in closet, wishing
Aslan
would take me
away,” she says. “I spent so much time in there. I started to smell like moth
balls.”

It feels good
to laugh with her, so good.

“What book
would you be?” She asks. “I mean, if you had to memorize one, like in
Fahrenheit
?”

I blow my
breath out, and see a cloud of steam in the starlight. “Wow. I don’t know. I
haven’t ever thought of it. Have you?”

“Yes.” She
grins. “I’d be a Jane Austen book.”

“Ah.” I touch
her cheek. “A romantic.”

“She said,
‘What is right to be done cannot be done too soon’.” Her smile eases into a
thoughtful, worried expression. “The problem is knowing what is right, isn’t
it?”

When I look at
her, there is no doubt in my mind about what’s right. I could pretend to forget
when she’s not there, just a little, but with her bright eyes and her…her
essence there in my hands, I can’t ignore it. This is right. I glance up toward
the house; I feel my body slump against the tree.

She follows my
line of sight to my back porch. “He’s there, isn’t he?” She pushes me away
slightly so she can see my face. “McFarland?”

In sparse
moonlight, her face is a tapestry of shadow and light. “Yeah he’s there. I made
an excuse to get out. I can’t stay long.”

She holds me at
arm’s length. “Jana told you? About the group? The plan?”

“Yes,” I
murmur, pulling her to me. Press a kiss to her lips, drink in the smooth, soft
wetness of her tongue, stroke the silk of her hair. But she stops me again.

“And?”

“And what?”

“What are you
going to do?” She gazes intently at me, eyes shining silver.

“You mean, am I
going to lure him into a trap and run away with you?” I settle back against the
rough bark. “Are you thinking it’s a bad idea?”

“No.” She
shakes her head, smiles lazily, caresses my cheek with one finger, and that
alone sends electricity zinging into my chest, into my pants. Desire, swift and
undeniable, washes over me; I don’t want to control it.

“It is a bad
idea, probably.”

She nods and
smiles. “Where are you supposed to be right now?”

“Book club.
You?”

“Meditating.”
She lightly kisses my lips, soft, so soft. “So, Mister Bryant, you’re willing
to leave all this and run away with a perfect stranger?”

“Perfect.
That’s true.” I absently caress her hair. “I’ve never felt like this, about
anybody.”

She turns,
grins at me. “You mean like stars are zipping around inside your veins?”

“Yes.” I kiss
her lightly. “Exactly like that.” I gaze at her silhouette. “I don’t even know
what you like, or really
anything
about you. Isn’t that weird?”

She grins. “No.
Not weird. Love isn’t facts. But anything you want to know…just ask.”

I laugh. “I
should know the basics, at least. When’s your birthday?”

“October 8
^th
.”
She tilts her head sideways. “Yours?”

“April 15
^th
.
Tax day.” She laughs, which is the best music. “David planned it that way.”

She caresses my
face. “Who was your first?”

“My first what?”

She smiles
shyly and turns away. “You know.”

“Oh.”
 
My face feels hot. “Uh…I guess I don’t have
one. What about you?”

Her eyes shine,
reflecting moonlight. “I was hoping it might be you.”

We’re quiet
then, and I concentrate on the patterns in the night sky. “Are we making a huge
mistake?”

She doesn’t
answer immediately, but clutches my hand more tightly. Finally, she whispers, “I’ve
spent my whole life afraid. If the only way I can stop being afraid is to run
away, I’ll do it. What is right to be done cannot be done too soon,” She frames
my face in her two small hands. “Romeo and Juliet got married in three days.”

“Look what
happened to them.”

She laughs,
sweet music. Then she looks more serious.

“Their world
killed them,” she says. “Their world wouldn’t let them be together, even though
they knew from the first time they touched. I think I love you, Chris. I really
do. I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen, and I don’t want this world to
kill us.” She kisses me, and I melt into the warm sweetness of her breath, her
lips, her body. After several heartbeats, she whispers, “This could be our last
night together.”

My heart picks
up. She slides a hand down my body, and I tense. Sweat breaks out on my brow.

“I want to,”
she whispers. Her hand dips below my waist.
 

“You want to
what?”

 
She lifts the sweater over her head, revealing
nothing but round, creamy breasts, perfectly formed, pink rosebud nipples that
harden in the cold night. “Oh,” I manage to say weakly, staring. “You want to…”

“Yes.” She
folds her legs around me, and any resolve I felt melts away.