by Lisa De Jong
Disbelief washes over me. Before he left, I was under the impression that he would wait for me a little while longer. I knew it wasn’t fair to make him wait forever, but five weeks . . . why did he give up so quickly?
I can’t stop the tears from running down my cheeks. I’ve wanted him for so long that he’s become my living dream, and now it’s obvious that he’s going to stay that way. I have many regrets, but if I never get a second chance, this will be my ultimate regret.
I love him.
I make my way out the door and down the sidewalk to the street. I left him behind, and now he’s over me.
“Kate! Wait!” a familiar voice yells from behind me, stopping me in my tracks.
I don’t want to turn around and let him see the tears. He shouldn’t feel sorry for moving on when I’m the one who waited so long to realize what he means to me.
“Look at me,” he whispers, so close that I feel the heat of his chest against my back.
“I can’t. I need to go.”
He stands behind me and presses his hand to my stomach. It feels so right. “Why did you come if you weren’t going to stay?”
“Beau, please,” I cry, leaning my head back against his shoulder, allowing the water droplets from his bare chest to soak into my shirt.
“Talk to me,” he demands.
I could tell him the truth, but I decide to go with a half-truth. “I’m here for school. I signed up for some classes.”
“Why are you crying?” he asks, moving around me to get a better look at my face. He has nothing on but a pair of black athletic shorts and droplets of water are rolling out of his hair.
He’s everything I’ve always wanted, and I’m too late. I don’t want to hear it, but he asked me to always be honest.
“I came for you.”
His eyes move back and forth between mine. “Then why didn’t you stay?”
Pinching my eyes shut, I use the back of my hand to wipe my cheeks. “When your girlfriend answered the door . . . I realized I was too late. I didn’t need to hear you say it.”
He places his finger under my chin. “Open your eyes.”
I hesitate, not wanting to see him when he tells me I’m right. “Kate, I’m only going to ask you one more time. Open. Your. Eyes. Please.”
This time I do, and when I look at him I see the old playfulness I’m used to. I want to run and pretend that this never happened. I want to run back to a time when he was there, telling me how much he loves me and never let him go.
His face comes closer to mine until his lips are a whisper above mine. “You got it all wrong, beautiful.”
“What?” I ask.
“Rachel is my roommate’s girlfriend,” he says, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
I stop, rolling his words around in my head. “ I don’t get it. She was looking at me like—”
“She was looking at you like that because she knows you’re my Kate. Everyone in that apartment, or who has ever been in that apartment, knows who you are.” He smiles.
“She’s not—”
“No,” he says, shaking his head slowly and cupping my face in his hands. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
His lips brush against mine, causing my heart to pound against my chest. When he breaks contact, his thumb runs against my lower lip.
“I’m here,” I whisper, leaning into his touch.
“That’s good because I can’t wait any longer,” he says, lifting me up in his arms. His lips press against mine, this time lingering a little longer.
It’s exactly the moment my dream became a reality.
Beau is my light, my stars, my sun . . . he gives me hope.
He’s where my new life begins.
Epilogue
One Year Later
I’ve learned three things in my life.
First, I can’t keep things locked inside. They will eventually eat me up until there is nothing left, and life is too short to live in solitude. One of the things Asher taught me is that every day should be worth at least one smile.
Second, I should never take anyone or anything for granted. It’s easy to assume that when someone walks into our life they will always be there. But I know that one day, one moment, one ounce of bad luck can change everything. I lost Asher way too soon. He had the most beautiful soul, and without him I don’t know how long it would have taken me to find myself again. I’m never going to be the girl I was, but right now, I’m the person I want to be. I’m content with who I am and where my life is going.
Third, love is a powerful emotion. It has the ability to get you through anything. But you have to let it.
For the past year, Beau and I have learned that over and over again. We’re also learning that you fight with the ones you love more than the ones you don’t . . . but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Hey, are you ready to go?” he whispers in my ear, wrapping his arms around me from behind.
“Yep, let me grab the cooler, and I’ll meet you outside.”
He kisses my cheek when I look over my shoulder and loosens his grip, resting his hands on my hips. “Don’t take too long, beautiful. I can’t wait to see you in that new blue bikini.”
“Beau.”
“Yeah?”
“The quicker you let go of me, the quicker we can make that happen,” I smile, attempting to take a step forward, but he pulls me back into him.
“One more kiss,” he says, spinning me around to face him. He wastes no time pressing his lips to mine. He starts slowly, gently pulling my lower lip between his teeth. I moan with the tingle it sends shooting down my spine. Every kiss is a first kiss with Beau Bennett. Yet this time, when I’m expecting more, he pulls back. “Hurry up. We’ll finish that when we get to the lake.”
I bite my lower lip, knowing it will make him crazy. He deserves it for leaving me hanging like that. When he tries to grab for me again, I step back. “Go wait in the truck.”
He winks at me, melting my heart like butter. “You better hurry,” he growls, playfully smacking my ass before walking backwards toward the door.
This is our last time at the lake for the summer before we have to return to school. It’s our place, and it always will be. We’ve talked about moving back here after school and maybe buying a house by the lake, but I think it’s a little too early to plan that far ahead in the future. It’s definitely a place we’ll always come to visit.
When I walk into the kitchen to grab the cooler, I catch my mom and Daniel locked in an embrace. Sometimes they’re almost too cute. They have spent every minute this way since they got married. I smile, realizing how similar mine and Beau’s relationship is to theirs.
“Beau and I are heading out to the lake. Are we still grilling tonight?” I ask, stopping at the door.
“Of course. We invited Beau’s parents over too since it’s your last night home,” my mom replies, resting her head on Daniel’s chest.
“Sounds good. We’ll see you later,” I say, waving with my free hand before opening the door.
Beau is sitting in his truck with his arm hanging out the window and country music blaring through the stereo. His smile widens when he sees me, and everything feels right.
I’m going to marry that boy someday. Not tomorrow, not next year, but someday. He’s my forever.
“It’s about time,” he says as I climb into the truck.
“Beau.”
“Yes, beautiful?”
“Just drive,” I smile, sticking my hands out the window to feel the warm summer air. The ride is quiet except for the sounds of country twang and wooden guitars that blare through his speakers. Music has become a symbol of the different periods in my life. I still have the iPod Asher left me, and I listen to it often. I’ll always miss his voice . . . it’s a reminder of all the things he’s given me.
A couple months after Beau and I officially started dating, I told him about it and all the other good memories I have of Asher. I wasn’t sure how he’d react, but he
understood. I’m sure he wishes he could have been the one to save me, but I think he’s grateful to have me back no matter what road I took to get there.
As we pull into the parking lot, I notice that the beach is pretty empty for this time of year. Crowds don’t bother me like they used to, but being here alone with Beau sounds like a little slice of heaven.
“What are you waiting for?” Beau asks, running his thumb along my cheekbone.
“I was just thinking about how much I love this place.” I smile, looking over at the love of my life.
“It holds a lot of memories,” he says, tucking a few strands of loose hair behind my ear.
“That is does. So let’s go make new ones.” I give him my best seductive grin. Anyone else might laugh at it, but Beau gets it.
We waited months before we had sex. It was good because it allowed us to rekindle our emotional bond. Our love is so strong, and nothing could destroy it now. We worked for fifteen years to get to this point, and nothing is going to come between us.
I jump out of the truck and wait for Beau to grab the cooler from the back. We make our way to “our spot”—a little clearing in the tall grass—and lay down an old flannel blanket. I decide to play with Beau a little bit and slowly pull my shirt over my head. His eyes double in size as he takes in my new bikini top, and he watches as I unbutton my shorts and let them slide down my legs. I absolutely love when he looks at me like that.
“Come here,” he demands, holding out his left hand.
I do as he asks, but I walk to him slowly, enjoying the anticipation. When I’m close enough that he can touch me, he grabs my hand and presses my body against his. He skips the ‘slow’ this time and presses his tongue into my mouth. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I feel every part of him, inside and out. His touch is warmer than the sun on my skin, and it’s easy to get lost in him.
He’s my true love and my best friend.
As his mouth and tongue continue to dance with mine, his hands run up and down my back. Everything he does, he does carefully, but the second I pull his hair between my fingers, he gets the hint and runs his thumbs over my nipples.
A few miraculous raindrops fall from the sky and land on my head. When I look up, I see a lone storm cloud over our heads. A laugh escapes my lips as I finger the umbrella around my neck.
“Thank you,” I mouth before letting my eyes connect with Beau’s again.
He picks me up off the ground and spins me around, kissing me again with his warm lips while the rain pours down.
“I love you so fucking much,” he says, resting his forehead against mine.
“I love you too,” I say, pulling him in for another kiss.
When it rains think of me. I look up, letting the rain hit my face and smile.
In the Fields
By Willow Aster
Prologue
1977
There is not one specific minute, hour, or even day that changed my life. It was one summer; one twisted summer when everything derailed into endless complication.
It was the summer I said goodbye to my childhood.
****
The memories are suffocating me. I should have never come back.
I walk into the kitchen, a place so familiar and yet, I’m a stranger here. My hands shake as I pour my umpteenth cup of tea. I lean against the counter and stare out the window. It looks the same as it did all those years ago. I see the place it happened. I feel the sweltering heat of the day. I hear the cries and curses that were spoken.
My breath is ragged as I abandon the tea and walk into my old bedroom. Pale lavender, with a few stuffed animals sitting on top of the chest of drawers—nothing has changed. When we left, Nellie kept everything together for us, never giving up hope that we would be back. I’m not sure if I left everything because I thought she might like to have my things, or if I simply never wanted to see them again. Maybe a little bit of both.
I make my way into my parents’ bedroom. I will always think of it as their room, even though they haven’t slept here together in years. A picture of Gracie and me sits on the nightstand, turned toward the bed. The tears fall then, and as much as I try to fight them, they’re unrelenting.
In my dad’s closet, I pick up one of his shirts and try to smell it, hoping to feel connected to him somehow. I don’t smell anything but cotton. I hang it up again, feeling disappointed with myself and the shirt.
The screen door slams and I hurriedly swipe the tears away. Leaving the bedroom and hopefully some of the ghosts along with it, I square my shoulders and take a deep breath.
Gracie stands at the sink, her ringlets bouncing with each movement. Her face is shining with sweat, but she doesn’t seem to mind the heat. She’s eating a peach and with every bite, the juice drips down her chin. I hand her a towel and she grins up at me. Her face falters when she sees my splotchy face, but I put my hand over hers with a smile and she relaxes.
“You all right, Mama?”
“I will be, baby girl.”
She lays her head on my stomach for a minute and pats it, and then leans back over the sink.
“This is the best peach I’ve ever eaten,” she says with her mouth full.
“Mr. Talbot’s peaches—I’ve had a few of them in my day,” I say.
“I filled up a basket and put it on the back porch. Do you think we can make a pie?”
“I don’t see why not. We don’t have to be at the funeral home for a few hours yet. We’ll be overrun with pies shortly from all the little old ladies in town, but I happen to have all of Miss Sue’s recipes right here.” I tap my right temple. “All other pies are just a waste of time.”
Gracie beams.
Anything to distract myself from the memories of this place is a welcome relief. As we get all the ingredients assembled, Gracie chatters nonstop, not minding if I answer or not. I’ve been distracted since we got here, but she’s been too excited to notice. She has heard stories about Tulma for as long as she can remember. I felt I had to keep it alive for her somehow since I knew I’d never be back, but here I am. Inside this God-forsaken house.
Before I know it, she’s putting the pie in the oven. My heart turns over with love for her. I hope and pray that everyone will be kind to her. A fierce protectiveness overtakes me at the thought of anyone mistreating her. If someone so much as looks at her cross-eyed tonight, we’ll leave. Another middle-of-the-night getaway. She doesn’t even know to be anxious, and I seem to be enough for both of us.
Gracie goes back outside and stretches out on the hammock my dad put between the two oak trees closest to the house. If it had been there when I was a child, I would have spent a lot of time reading there. I finally move away from the window and hope the past will finally be put to rest.
Chapter 1
New Beginnings
Tulma, Tennessee
May, 1971
Do you ever wish to be invisible, but when you are, feel desperate to be noticed?
This morning I woke up at 6 o’clock, took a quick bath, unrolled the pink foam curlers my mom insists I wear every night, made scrambled eggs, ate them, put the leftovers in the refrigerator for my parents to eat when they got up, let Josh the dog out, picked up my dad’s beer bottles from last night, ironed my mom’s shirt for work, dusted off her Miss Tennessee picture, and was on the bus for school all before 7 o’clock.
This is my daily routine. There are a few variations, but it mostly stays the same. To mix it up sometimes, I make waffles instead of eggs or iron my mother’s shirt first, but I find that any change throws me off schedule.
I hate routines. I wish I could sleep in and that when I went into the kitchen, my mom would be standing at the stove, saying, “I’ve got your breakfast all ready, sweetie.” I’d say, “Oh, thanks, Mama, how did you know I was hungry for pancakes?” She’d tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear and kiss my cheek while I ate my delicious breakfast. My dad would saunter in, smelling like aftershave and say, “How are my girls this m
orning?”
I’m going to be fifteen in a month. I hope to get my wish for a normal family then.
****
Today Miss Greener has a baseball cap with a pink feather peeking out over her ear. Her grey hair is going every direction, tamed only by the cap. Most days, she doesn’t care about her mop-top. She’s proud of her hat collection and can’t be bothered by whether they ever match her outfit or not.
As she opens the door of the bus for me, I feel the gust of wind on my face and it cools me off for a second. May is usually the nicest time of year, not too hot yet, but we’re having record temperatures this spring. Yesterday, it hit 100 degrees and the humidity was so thick you could bounce it like a ball.
“Caroline, how are you this refreshing morning?” Miss Greener is perpetually sunny.
“I’m good, Miss Greener. I thought of you this morning. The peony bush out back looks almost as pretty as yours.”
“Oh my, I’ll have to take a look at that on Saturday. Are you still up for me bringing over my azaleas?”
“I can’t wait.” I take my place on the right side of the bus and take my book out while we stop every other minute on the way to school.
I’m fully engrossed in my Beverly Cleary book by the time Clara Mae gets on and plops down beside me. She immediately starts telling me about a crazy dream she had and once I tear myself away from my book, I’m fully engrossed in her story, laughing at the way she goes on about it. This makes her sit up taller and talk even faster.
I can’t figure it out. Outside my home, in the real world, people like me. I could do jumping jacks all day long in front of my parents and they wouldn’t even blink, but at school and even around town, where I’m horribly shy and would rather just be left alone, people reach out to me. Maybe my shyness disguised as standoffishness makes kids at school try harder. I guess I can just pretend to be mysterious, when really I’m about as bold as a bowl of noodles.
The black girls love my long hair. It falls in soft waves with a halo of frizziness around my scalp. I don’t care for it very much, but they think it’s beautiful and soft. Jackie does six tiny, perfect cornrows on my head before she gets in trouble from the teacher. My hair gets greasy from all the hands, but it doesn’t bother me a bit. When they play with my hair, it makes me feel like I’m one of them, and I like that. I like to take out Jackie and Beck’s braids and arrange their hair in pretty, cottony curls.