The Understorey, Book One of The Leaving Series (16 page)

“Mr. Jacobs” I said and offered my hand.

He took it and shook it with a firm squeeze.
I returned the pressure in kind. My dad had always told me that was
the only way a man knew if a new acquaintance was a real man or
not.

    “Julia!” He yelled down
the long hall next to the front door.
Jules’ room
, I
mentally took note. “Elliott Gray is here!” He yelled up the
staircase.
For Jules’ mom
, I assumed. I’m not going to lie,
she scared me a little. She was menacing looking with her black
hair and pale skin. Jules looked just like her but somehow on Jules
it looked fairy tale-like.

“Come. Sit down in here with me,” he
said.

He gestured to a little sitting room that
faced the dark, wide winding wood stairs. The house had to have
been at least a hundred years old, same as mine, same as most of
the homes in Bramwell but The Perry House, The Jacobs’ home, was
one of the most well preserved. It had all the original dark wood
throughout. The sitting room he led me into had a massive cast iron
fireplace, probably original as well. I wondered what it must have
been like for Jules growing up around the Victorian furniture as
uptight as was in that home. It reflected her mother’s personality
to an exact point. Don’t get me wrong, it was beautiful and matched
the home perfectly but I would have felt stifled there.

I lived in a farmhouse from the same era but
it was a lot more laid back in its architecture as well as my
mother’s taste in furniture. I suspect it proved for a lot more
comfortable childhood in comparison.

Just to give you an idea, if you went back in
time to the late eighteen hundreds to a moment where the first
owners of our homes were still about their houses, you’d see a silk
clad woman with layers of heavy expensive fabric and a tightly
brimmed hat piled high with feathers at Jule’s house and a simple
cotton dressed woman with a white apron at mine.

Not much had changed since that era because
that was still the difference in social standing between Jules and
myself. Jules had jumped the tracks, so to speak. Her father and
mother were executives at the company who owned the coal mine my
dad worked at and my father was only a miner.

We were from two different worlds, but Jules
never acted as such. I knew her mother well enough and I also knew
Jules had not gotten that personality trait from her so I
reasonably assumed she got it from her father and thus felt very
comfortable sitting across from him at that moment.

    “Mr. Jacobs, my mom made
these for Mrs. Jacobs.”
I handed him the white cardboard box full of homemade cookies my
mom had wrapped with a pale blue ribbon. She said that it was
impolite to show up to someone’s home you’ve been invited to
without a gift. I didn’t know a thing about any of that stuff and
really didn’t care but I didn’t argue with my mom. Refusing would
have gotten me a slap to the neck.
    “Wow!” He said, peeling open the lid. “These
look incredible!”
He took one out and began to eat.
    “Don’t tell Ann you saw me eating this in here,”
he grinned propping his feet up on a very expensive looking coffee
table.
I laughed. Definitely where Jules got her personality from.
    “Cross my heart,” I said.
    “So boy....” he began.
    “What are you yelling up the stairs for? Mom’s
not here. There was an emergency at the church, something about
broken pipes,” Jules interrupted from behind me.

I turned and saw a pair of long legs stride
toward the sitting room. I gulped and started to panic. At that
precise moment I felt very self-conscious, having no clue what
Julia Jacobs wanted with me. I fiddled with my glasses and pulled
at my sweater. She was too radiant to bother with the likes of me.
I turned my head and faced Jules’ dad again. He sat with his
eyebrows creased. I must have taken too long to turn back around.
Whatever the punishment for staring too long at someone’s daughter
was I didn’t want to find out because his eyes told me it might be
penalty of death.
Oops.
I had no intentions of disrespecting
her father and after that held little to no eye contact with Jules
to remedy how uncomfortable I had made him.

    “Are you ready?” Jules
asked.
    “Sure,” I said, wiping my sweaty hands on my
jeans.
    “So, where are you going?” Her dad asked.
    “Dad, you
know
where. I told you this
morning. The Kanawha County Library in Charleston.”
    “Okay,” he sighed, “but if you’re going to be
home past seven you need to call Julia.”
    “No problem pop,” she reached up and pecked him
on the cheek.

I took Jules’ bag from her, politely shook
Mr. Jacobs’ hand and led Jules to my truck. I opened the door for
her and swung her bag into the bed. I hopped in, waved to a glaring
Mr. Jacobs and headed toward Main.

    When we reached the end of
her street I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. I
finally looked at Jules. She had her legs crossed and her right
elbow on the window’s edge twisting a curl in her hand.

“You’re sweating Elliott Gray,” she said
coolly.

    “What?” I said, reaching
my hand to my forehead, wiping away the perspiration.
    “Need a towel?” She teased.
    “Yes, actually,” I laughed, “I nearly
hyperventilated from the very look of you. I don’t think your dad
was too happy with me when it took me forever to break my
stare.”
    “He’ll survive,” she said. “Besides,” she leaned
in close, “I like the way you stare at me. It’s a sweet stare. It
makes me feel beautiful.”
    “That shouldn’t be a problem for you Jules. You
should feel that regardless.”
    “It means a little more when you make me feel
that way though. So, thank you.”
    “You’re welcome ma’am,” I said and tipped an
imaginary hat her direction.

On our way to the library in Charleston,
Jules and I talked about anything and everything. When the
conversation turned toward music, it got heated though. We were
both extremely opinionated when it came to music. Ironically, we
loved all of the same bands but differed in opinion when it got
down to the nitty gritty of the inner workings of individual songs.
The heat was awesome actually. It was fun to talk to someone who
held legitimate interest and opinion in something that mattered to
me and we traded banter for almost an hour on the subject. When we
reached the library and parked in the garage across the street, I
put my truck in park and sighed with satisfaction. She was the most
intellectually stimulating conversation I had ever had.

“You’re somethin’ else miss Jacobs,” I said
trying to catch my breath.

“You’re quite a match, my friend. Sparring
with you sure does bring out the spirit in a girl.”

I got out and ran to the other side of the
truck. I opened the door for her and grabbed her hand. She thanked
me and I grabbed our bags. We walked up the giant steps of the
large stone library and ducked through its majestic entrance.

“This library is my Mecca,” whispered
Jules.
    “If I could, I would set up a tent in the back
and read my life away,” I whispered back. “Join me?”
    “Yes, sir. I will. I would,” she said looking up
at me.

I grabbed her hand and we left a sparkled
trail leading to a secluded table in the corner at the back of the
library. Jules looked behind us.
    “We have a supernatural gift that only we can
see and benefit from Elliott,” she said matter-of-factly.
I stopped short.
    “You know, for weeks I’ve tried to pin it down,
get an exact name for it. I’m still trying to decipher its
capabilities and parameters and all but it’s definitely our own
exclusive gift. It’s fascinating.”
    “And awesome.
Really
awesome,” she barely
whispered the last part.
We smiled at each other.

Jules and I smiled a lot. So much, that I
found my cheeks actually hurt when I finally rested my head at the
end of the day. I would rub the muscles in them, readying them for
their inevitable workout the next day. We were unashamed about
showing the way we felt on our faces. That’s what I liked about
Jules. She was not afraid to tell me through words, expressions, or
our ability what she thought and how she felt. What a firework.

    We sat at opposite ends of
the table and poured our books onto its dark veneered surface. An
hour had passed, I looked up and noticed we were absolutely alone.
I interrupted her frenzied writing by placing my hand on
hers.
    “Jules?”
Her head popped up.
    “Yeah?”
    “Can I? Can I try something?”
A sly smile spread across her face.
    “What?”
    “Lean towards me?”
She did as I asked and I brought my cheek to hers, before
whispering into her ear.
    “Keep your head very still.”

She didn’t say anything but her breathing
became as labored as mine. I softly kissed her cheek and the
library lit up like the fourth of July. Fiery flowers burst like
rockets from our table, exploded in the air above our heads, and
their remnants misted to the table, chairs and floor beneath us
like snow. I felt her anticipation and I know she felt mine. I felt
her happiness and I know she felt mine. I felt her longing for more
and I
know
she felt mine.

    We sat upright, wide eyed
and overwhelmed.
    “Do it again,” she whispered.
    “Okay,” I happily agreed but when I leaned in
and she closed her eyes, prepared for the coming sensation, I
stopped.
    “You try it,” I whispered. “You’ll like
it.”
    “Okay, lean into me then.”

I obeyed her and could barely control my
laughter. She stilled my head by grabbing my chin and tilting my
face and she kissed my cheek softly. The same spirited flames flew
above our heads and filled our chests with its sonic boom. We sat
up once more, equally as stunned as before.

I had an idea.
    “Stand up,” I said.

We scooted our chairs behind us and carefully
maneuvered around the corners of the table coming face to face and
panting in expectation. We both watched as my right hand link
fingers with hers then again with the left, savoring every touch
and every feeling, every spark. We looked into each other’s eyes
and waited to steady our rapidly beating hearts for fear they’d
burst before we’d get the chance to do what we’d waited so long
for.

“Stop,” she whispered, trying not to
laugh.

“Stop what?” I laughed.

“Stop intensifying how I feel inside. I don’t
know how much more I can withstand. We keep trading emotions up and
up and up.”

“What do you mean?” I said, nearly bursting
with laughter.

“Whenever I show you how I feel, you react to
the feeling and vice versa. It keeps magnifying. You’re driving me
crazy!”

“Okay,” I said, almost toppling over with
happiness.

We let go of our hold on one another and
stepped back. Once we caught our breath and stopped laughing for at
least a five second stretch, we repositioned ourselves and slowly
intertwined our hands once more.

    “Let’s start this place on
nonexistent fire,” I teased.
    “Promise.” She sucked in an excited breath.

We closed our eyes and I placed my feverish
mouth to hers. Immediately, violent, zealous flashes of shimmering
flames climbed to the furthest point, trailed like rain down the
pitched ceiling and spilled down the walls, gathering at their feet
pools of fervent, bubbling, silvery liquid electricity before
evaporating into nothing.

    We pulled away from the
magnetic gravity that was our first kiss but kept our hands
intertwined. We patiently lingered while our insides came back into
our own control.
    “That was......”
    “The best thing I’ve ever felt and tasted in my
entire life,” Jules finished with an intense twinkle in her bright
green eyes.
    “Exactly. What do you think? Will they all be
like that? How about one more for good measure?” I flirted.
She nodded and bit her bottom lip in a smile.
    “This time,” I continued, “let me hold your face
with my hands.”

We did ‘one more for good measure’ six times.
The only reason we had to stop was because I glanced at my watch to
see how much time we had to practice. It was approaching seven
o’clock and Jules needed to ring her dad to let him know I was
taking her to dinner in Charleston and wouldn’t be home until
eleven o’clock or so.

    “Pop?” She said on her
cell phone. “It’s Julia. Yeah, I know, who else. We’ve finished
studying,” she winked my way, “but Elliott wants to take me to a
restaurant while we’re in Charleston. Is that okay? Uh, huh. Uh,
huh. Uh, huh. Around eleven, dad. Okay. See you then. Love you
too.”
She hung up and smiled at me.
    “Done,” she said. “Should you call your
folks?”
    “No, I told them I’d be home late, but before
curfew and they waved me off.”
    “Cool. Well, where to? I’m starving. You wore me
out Mr.Gray,” she said with another wink.
    “What’s your favorite food Jules?”
    “On the count of three,” she teased. “One, two,
three....”
    “Italian,” we said in unison, then laughed until
we almost spilled onto the ground.
    “You’re so fun,” she said.
    “No.
You’re
so fun.”
    “Where to eat?” She asked, clasping her hands
together.
    “Excuse me?” I asked a local walking by, “The
best place to get Italian?”
    “Oh. Yeah. Fazio’s on Bullitt. It’s about five
minutes northeast from here,” he said pointing in the direction of
Fazio’s. “Just follow Capitol to Smith Street, take a left. Right
on Court, left on Piedmont, tight on Bullitt. Fazio’s is on your
right.”
    I thanked him and dragged Jules to the truck. I
threw her into the passenger seat and playfully leaned over her to
put her seat belt on for her and kept my face close to hers.
    “Comfortable miss Jacobs?”
    “Yes, very,” she breathed deeply.

I kept my hand on hers and caught my breathe
when I felt things I’d never thought I could share with someone let
alone feel. I moved my face close to hers and our breaths washed
warmly against each other’s cheeks. I just stared as she bit her
bottom lip.