A Season of Eden

by Jennifer Laurens

  “What?” He must have sensed I was distracted. A faint line appeared between his brows. Afraid he’d take his hands from my face, I placed mine over his.

  “Where did you learn to kiss like that?”

  The line between his brows deepened. “Learn?” His hands slowly slid away, he took mine with them, and held them between our chests. “It’s not something I set out to learn.” He studied me a moment. “I just did what I felt, Eden.”

  I felt dirty. Embarrassed. I’d never kissed with anything but technique in mind, with the need to maintain my reputation. Or manipulate someone.

  I couldn’t ever remember kissing from my heart.

  I looked out toward the ocean, wishing I could bury myself in the water and come out clean. All of my backseat, couch, and corner kisses reeked with sleaze. His touch no longer warmed and comforted me, but reminded me of where my life had taken me and who I was.

  I stepped back, the cool air surrounding me. As I gazed at the blue sea, I saw him move a little closer, still watching me. “Everything all right?”

  Everything sucked.

  I wasn’t worthy of him.

  His pure kiss had poured over me like holy water.

  Awakening, yet not cleansing me. I let out a sigh.

  I felt his hand touch my arm and looked at his long, gentle fingers. Fingers that had just touched my face in a gesture more intimate than sex had ever been. Fingers that made beautiful music no matter what they touched.

  Tangled in thought, I turned, picked up my boots and headed across the sand toward the ramp. I wished he wasn’t there. I wished I’d never laid eyes on him, never known how unique he was because that had changed me forever. Nothing would ever be the same. I couldn’t look at guys anymore. How would I look at men?

  I felt him come up behind me, then next to me. “Did I say something?”

  “No.” There was such earnest innocence in his voice, if I looked at him, I’d start to cry.

  “Eden, what?” He took my elbow and the move jolted me to a stop. His face was fraught with concern.

  “I’ve just… this is different for me.”

  “In what way? Can we talk about it?”

  The angles of his eyes squinted in piercing intensity, like he wasn’t going to move one inch unless I told him.

  “I think… I should go home now.”

  Shock shifted on his face. Hurt passed through his eyes. Confusion, plain and raw distorted his features. “I’m sorry if I—”

  “Don’t.” I cut him off. Suddenly I saw him in his church, on his knees, confessing. Or praying. I couldn’t be the reason he sinned. Lost his job, left his church—whatever.

  That was a weight I could never bear. I started for the cement walkway. Again, he grabbed hold of my arm.

  The muscles in his throat constricted, as if he was struggling to keep himself from saying more. I felt guilty for making this hard for him. He deserved something easy.

  Something better.

  He slowly came toward me, his face taut with anguish and confusion. “I don’t know what I’ve done, but…”

  I closed my eyes. “Please don’t apologize. It’s not you.”

  A tear escaped, and rolled down my cheek. My chest surged with quarantined remorse.

  I felt his finger steal the tear and I opened my eyes. A shade of relief brightened his face, still tight with concern.

  “If you want to talk about whatever is bothering you, I’m here,” he said.

  Waves fought in the distance, a crashing battle that rolled onto shore in watery submission. Maybe he was right, maybe this was wrong. But then we were both here.

  He’d kissed me.

  Still, when I looked into his face, illuminated with a joy I was sure I wasn’t imagining, the purity behind his motives shamed me. It didn’t matter what he said. I wasn’t worthy of him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  After I’d purged myself of every last tear, I lay on my bed wasted. William lay snugged against me, having witnessed hours of sobbing. His head rested on his crossed front paws, his droopy eyes looked ready to weep.

  I petted his body and he groaned, bringing the first smile to my lips in hours. My fantasy had dropped right at my back door: James and I kissing on the beach and I’d blown it. Head clearer after the crying jag, I realized I hadn’t blown anything, just seen things for what they really were. James was unreal—a statue carved of marble— something beautiful but untouchable. I’d broken some theological and ethical rule kissing him. Forget that he was a teacher. The spirit inside of James was far more off-limits than Mr. Christian the teacher was. He would never look at me the same again. Whatever he’d seen in me would be veiled now by some confessional curtain once he realized what he’d done by kissing me.

  He’d given himself to me in that kiss, opened his heart, his feelings. I’d never done that when I’d been with a guy.

  Had he sensed that?

  I saw him in my mind again, and again the picture was in some dark confessional on his knees, crossing himself, shaking his head. Knowing that I would cause him to unload regret in this way leadened my heart with more guilt.

  A knock at my door startled me. When the door opened, my dad came into the room. The way he blinked, I knew he was taken aback by my puffy, red face.

  “Eden.”

  I petted William in the vain attempt that Dad wouldn’t look at me. He came close to the bed, something he hadn’t done in years.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I’m okay.”

  For a minute he stood in silence. He was used to staring at people, getting them to open up, say what he wanted, do what he wanted. So I kept petting William and didn’t look at him.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I did. So badly I wanted someone to unload to, but this was a solitary road I had chosen to walk. “I just miss Mom.”

  I always missed her, so I wasn’t lying. I was sure, in fact, that she would listen to me if she had been there. And I could trust her, if I told her.

  “I’m sorry.” He moved closer and stood twitchy as a racehorse at the gate, not sure if he should touch me or not. He kept his hands in his pockets. For years we hadn’t exchanged anything more than obligatory hugs. I wanted him to hold me. Not ask questions, not say anything.

  But comforts like that had died long ago and I’d learned to bury that need. When the need resurfaced, I lost it in hanging with my friends or in being with boys.

  My skankiness made me shudder with guilt. Again, I saw James’ face, felt the softness of his lips, the beat of his heart.

  Disgusted with myself, I closed my eyes to prevent more tears from falling. I heard Dad move and my eyes flashed, shocked that he’d actually brought himself closer.

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  There was worry on his face. It had been so long since he’d looked at me that way. Stacey had been his focus. The years of neglect had created a constant storm I wasn’t sure either one of us knew how to navigate our way through.

  “I’m sure.” If I didn’t shut up, he’d keep questioning.

  “You want dinner tonight? I thought maybe we could go out.”

  My eyes widened with surprise. “I’m not really up for it.

  But you can go.”

  “Who am I going to go with, Eden?” There was sarcasm in his voice.

  I shrugged, continuing to pet William. “So you and Stacey aren’t going to try to work it out?” Though I’d wondered, with the furniture gone, I pretty much figured she was gone for good.

  “I don’t know.” I hated hearing hope in his voice.

  “Well.” Awkwardness returned. “I’ll eat here then.

  Camilla made chicken pepperoni.”

  “Yeah?” That was one of his favorites. He nodded, relieved that a subject as simple as dinner was all that was between us now. He started for the door. “Come down when you feel better.”

  Eating was the last thing I felt like doing. Eating a meal with him was a
nother, but I nodded anyway. He closed the door and I wept again.

  I wanted to skip Concert Choir the next day, but that was cowardly. I’d never hidden from bad situations with guys before, and this wasn’t like a dump-job. I just wasn’t sure what James was thinking. I knew where my head was—lowered—with enough shame that I didn’t look at him when I went to my seat. But his classical music dove straight to my heart, working it like putty.

  In my peripheral vision I saw him watch me. His interest strummed my insides, remembering how he’d kissed me, touched me, said my name. How whole I’d felt in his arms.

  Noise filtered around me. Soft music, a theme song I recognized but he’d never played for us before. I tried to distract myself by searching my brain for what it was, but the movie never came to me.

  At last I glanced at him. He’d watched me since I’d come in and his beautiful face was mixed with concern and curiosity, pleasure and wariness. He made no gesture of greeting, just reached for his music stand and adjusted it.

  “Okay, let’s get started.” He scanned the group.

  “Anyone know this music?” I rolled my eyes when Leesa raised her hand. “Leesa?”

  “It’s from The Notebook.”

  He gave her a nod. Leesa wiggled with glee. I was glad he didn’t tell her how great she was for knowing.

  “We do both of our songs without the sheet music today because you guys should know this stuff by now, right?”

  Mumbling followed. The routine of class comforted me, filling in the empty spots inside of me that I didn’t know what to do with. Able to watch James now that class had started, I realized the feelings I’d had for him had not disappeared after yesterday, but were more intense. As he spoke and sung along with us, I was captivated by his mouth, the way it moved. I stumbled over lyrics, unable to find room in my head for anything but the memory of his kiss, of how safe I had felt against him. Every time our eyes met, something pure and innocent sparkled in his. Guilt forced me to look away.

  When class ended, I hoped to sneak out without notice, filled with a jumble of emotions I had to sort out without being near him.

  “Eden.” When he said my name, I stopped in my tracks.

  If I looked at him, I might explode or dissolve, both were frightening. “Can I talk to you, please?”

  The class had nearly emptied, all but Leesa who loitered nosily. “Leesa, if you don’t mind, shut the door on your way out,” he told her.

  His bold request shocked Leesa as well as me. She glanced at me, then at him, before sulking out.

  “There’s not a lot of time.” He started toward me when the door shut with a thud. “I…” He looked me over, as if hoping to discover why I’d been weird yesterday. I nervously fingered the strap of my backpack. “I wondered if we could meet tonight.”

  “Sure,” I said too soon.

  “Starbucks?”

  I nodded, my eyes finally meeting his. “Yeah. Sure.”

  Confusion and urgency flashed on his face. I felt bad that I’d put it there. Unanswered questions hung in his eyes.

  The door flew open and a rush of kids entered. Where our covert talks and after class visits had never bothered me before, I looked at the faces of those who had just come in, sure they sensed that something more than a teacher-student talk was between this teacher and student. No one seemed to notice.

  He backed away, bumping into his music stand.

  When I walked out the door, I found Leesa waiting for me. She stayed at my elbow like a dog begging for a scrap he knows is hidden somewhere in your pocket. I started toward my locker, wondering if she could see the emotions of happy and sad on my face.

  “What did he want?” she asked.

  I shot her a raised brow. If I didn’t answer, she’d be suspicious. Still, I wanted her to know I didn’t find her question appropriate. “He wanted to ask me something.”

  For the first time, I saw jealousy flicker in Leesa’s usually happy eyes. “He did? What?”

  “I imagine if he wanted you to know, he wouldn’t have asked you to leave.”

  I turned the corner to our locker hall. She stayed with me.

  “He likes you, doesn’t he?” she asked.

  My heart pounded. I worked to keep my face even, my walk steady. “Likes me? He’s my teacher, Leesa. I hope he likes me. I try to be nice to all the teachers.”

  I stopped at my locker and she did too, her face so close, I could see the individual hairs on her head blow in the breeze. I stared at her, afraid she could somehow see the truth.

  “You’ve always been a kiss-up,” she said, her voice trembling. She looked like I’d just slapped her. I glanced around, shifting my feet. “You flirt with whoever and don’t care about the rest of us! It so unfair!”

  Stunned, my fingers froze on my locker dial. I stared at her. “He’s the nicest guy too.” Her voice rose. “Why would you do that to him?”

  “Leesa,” I kept my voice low in hopes she would do the same, “I haven’t done anything to him.”

  “Then why does he watch you all the time? Why did he ask you to pass out the sheet music? How come he wanted to talk to you alone?”

  Visions of her storming into the principal’s office and ratting on us terrified me. I swallowed. But then, she sounded like a love-sick groupie with a bad crush on her teacher; surely Mr. Edwards would see that?

  “Leesa.” I reached out and laid my hand on her arm, using the gesture to calm her. She looked down at my hand as if an angel had just touched her. Her face softened. “I’m sorry if you think I’m flirting with Mr. Christian. I’m not.”

  “I know, I know.” She looked embarrassed now, and couldn’t meet my gaze. Her nearly-bald head flushed red.

  “I’m probably just seeing things.”

  “You like him, don’t you?” I kept my hand on her arm.

  She blushed and nodded. “Can you tell?”

  “Um, like a baby screaming in a chapel.” She laughed. I let my hand fall away. “It’s cute that you like him, Leesa. I’m sure he’d be very flattered.” We both opened our lockers.

  My racing heart started to slow.

  “Do you think he knows?” she asked.

  “Uh, not sure on that one.”

  “But you won’t tell him will you?”

  “Cross my heart.” I made the crossing motion, and James’ face came into my mind. I smiled at Leesa and she smiled back.

  “Hey,” she said as I started off to second period. I turned and walked backward so I could see her. “Maybe you and I could go somewhere, do something?”

  “Um, yeah. Maybe.” I gave her a wave. She stood at her locker, her face happy.

  Chapter Twenty

  James was waiting for me at seven o’clock. I sat in my car staring at him through Starbucks’ big windows. In jeans and a dark brown turtleneck, he looked like he’d just morphed from an old Beatles movie. The outfit was adorably wrong.

  I could tell he was watching for me, the way he squinted into the glass trying to look beyond the reflection.

  Though I wanted to be there, I wondered how it would all play out. I prepared myself for being dumped. I figured he’d had enough time to think about my odd behavior and had decided I was just too young and stupid after all.

  The idea sickened me.

  I got out and crossed the parking lot, making sure he saw me, but without looking at him. If he was tired of me, the pre-coffee sighting would confirm in his mind that he was glad to soon be rid of me. I honestly couldn’t believe that I was there for anything more than an “I think this is over” talk. I lowered my head.

  Rather than extend the inevitable, I looked right at him when I entered. He stood, a small smile on his lips.

  At the table, he pulled out the chair. “Eden, have a seat.”

  “Thanks,” my voice cracked. I held onto my bag as if it was a life preserver and I was floating in the middle of the ocean and forced myself to meet his gaze.

  “So,” I started.

  He
set his elbows on the table, clasping his fingers at his lips. I looked at his mouth, remembering how sweet his kiss was. He caught my stare. A guy ready to dump a girl would have had a look of disgust on his face, wouldn’t he? James’ intense stare held me pinned. I blushed and set down my bag, then clasped my own hands on the table.