Evening in the Yellow Wood

by Laura Kemp

  “One guess,” he answered. “And I’ll even give you a hint.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “Then why’d you ask?”

  I saw Dylan’s hand grip and release the windowsill before he said, “Whatever you had planned for tonight is officially off. Head to town and I won’t give you a ticket.”

  “Jealous?” Jamie snickered, and I felt my throat tighten even as the blood died at the back of it.

  “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  I would have been insulted if I hadn’t felt his comment was meant for Jamie alone. He seemed to think the same, silently fuming as I sat holding the Kleenex to my nose, wondering if I was making the biggest mistake of my life by not opening the door and jumping out.

  “Take her home,” Dylan’s voice cut my thoughts in half. “Now.”

  “Looking forward to it,” Jamie said, his tone speaking to my instincts as he rolled up his window and started the Chevy, tires crushing gravel before I had the guts to scream, “Wait!”

  Jamie slammed on the brakes and in an instant, I threw the door open and jumped out.

  I saw Dylan pivot as Jamie turned in his seat, idling for a moment as our eyes met and in them, I saw anger and disbelief and for just an instant, relief.

  “Go on, then,” he said, his words slow as he sat a moment longer, letting the implication settle before shutting his door and pulling back onto the road.

  I stood watching his taillights until distance reduced them to embers burning in the forest, wondering where my fear had come from and how I would explain myself to Dylan, who was now standing in front of me.

  “What’s going on?”

  I looked down, embarrassed, and crumpled the bloody napkin in my hand.

  “Justine?” he took a step closer. “You can tell me.”

  But I couldn’t explain. Not here, in the middle of the road with the wind picking up and gooseflesh rising on my arms.

  “We can talk in the car.”

  I nodded, followed him to the cruiser, and climbed in. I was just thinking how surreal my situation was when he asked, “Been dating Stoddard long?”

  “We’re not dating.”

  Another chuckle, “That’s not what he thinks.”

  “I don’t care what he thinks.”

  “He try something?”

  I shook my head.

  “Intuition?”

  I sat silently.

  “Good enough for me,” he shifted in the seat, his arm grazing mine as he reached to adjust the radio, and an image of his girlfriend popped into my mind.

  “Thanks for the ride but I can call my roommate and have her meet us somewhere.”

  “Holly Would?”

  I scowled, realizing she was probably in no condition to pick me up.

  “It’s my job,” he smiled while pulling back onto the road. “Rescuing damsels in distress.”

  “I’m not in distress.”

  “Could’ve fooled me.”

  “Listen,” I began, hating the defensiveness in my voice. “I don’t need your help. I can walk.”

  “In those shoes?”

  I glanced down at my pink flip-flops and felt my anger rising.

  “Don’t get mad,” he said. “I had a bad feeling when I walked up.”

  “You did?”

  “And then I see you sitting there,” he paused, and I saw him glance at my necklace.

  I felt my fingers reach for it and blurted out, “Jamie started talking about his fiancée—”

  Dylan nodded as though he knew the story. “Karen?”

  “I have the feeling he’s not over her.”

  “Can’t say I blame him.”

  I touched my forehead, willing away anything that had to do with northern soap operas, wishing for my bed and Joey cuddled up beside me when I saw the lights of Lantern Creek glittering across the bay.

  “What was going on back there?” I asked, knowing I’d better get it over with before we got home.

  Dylan looked straight ahead and I studied his profile, the straight line of his nose, the swell of his lips and the way he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

  “Stoddard’s always had a chip on his shoulder.”

  I looked ahead again, “He said Karen’s parents didn’t think he was good enough for her.”

  “He wasn’t.”

  Wow, this guy was tough to crack.

  “If you don’t want to tell me—”

  “There’s nothing to tell. We just didn’t get along in school.”

  I stopped talking, mystified by his brusque manner as he pulled into my driveway. I sat for a moment in silence. The only sound I could hear was my heart in my ears, the only question on my mind was whether I had the strength to get out of the cruiser, feeling the anxiety I always did when faced with a choice I did not want to make.

  “About Stoddard,” he turned to me, clearly struggling with something. “You were right to get out of the truck.”

  I looked down, fiddled with the bracelet again.

  “I was going to follow you,” Dylan said. “Make sure he took you home.”

  I opened my mouth, searching for the right words that would make me seem mysterious and alluring and unattainable and came up with, “I was really hoping you would.”

  He paused, startled by my confession and I looked away, my mortification complete when he said, “Things are kind of complicated right now.”

  “Oh, sure,” I mumbled while reaching for the door handle. It’s not like I didn’t know about his supermodel girlfriend. “Forget I said anything.”

  “Justine—”

  “I understand. Thanks for the ride.”

  “Wait.”

  Something about his tone made me stop. I turned and looked at him, really seeing him for the first time and noticed how intently he was watching me, how his eyes skimmed the line between blue and gray—a sky that couldn’t decide—and how his hair held tints of gold that would curl around his ears if he ever grew it out.

  I imagined putting a hand to that face and bringing it to my own, imagined what it would feel like to have his mouth move against mine and remembered the girl with the lightning storm hair.

  The girl who was probably waiting for him at home.

  I let my mind wander to the beautiful house I’d seen on the shores of Grand Lake and imagined him removing his clothes and crawling into a large bed where he would touch her shoulder and roll her towards him.

  I imagined myself in her place.

  I wanted him now—just as I’d wanted Dad to stay and Mom to grow a heart. I wanted it and I couldn’t explain why it scared me.

  “I heard you were hired on at Three Fires,” His voice interrupted my thoughts and I smiled, thinking he might have been talking to Dave about me. “I want to know if Stoddard gives you any trouble.”

  As in call him? On the phone?

  “I don’t… I mean… I don’t have—”

  “I’ll give you my number.”

  “Sure,” was all I could say. I hadn’t felt this way since Jake Jones and I were paired up in middle school science lab.

  “I said things were complicated, but I didn’t mean impossible.”

  I sat dumbfounded, thinking again of the pretty girl he’d driven all the way to the library, the girl who worried about him when he worked the night shift. Just like I would.

  “Dylan,” I began. “I don’t think—”

  “I’ve got other commitments, but nothing we couldn’t work around.”

  My eyes widened as he leaned towards me.

  “You’re on duty,” I reminded him—not believing I was reminding him.

  He smiled, checked the clock on the dash. “Not anymore.”

  Fast as lightening my hand shot out and I smacked his face. Immediately I felt better, then sick to my stomach when I saw how shocked he looked, as though he’d honestly expected me to shut up and pucker.

  I drew my hand back while muttering, “Does your girlfriend know you troll the street
s looking for damsels in distress?”

  “Girlfriend?” He rubbed his cheek, and to my horror, I saw a red mark appearing.

  “The one you took to the library,” I muttered.

  He shook his head, tried to grin but grimaced instead. “My sister needed a ride to work.”

  I felt like throwing up, literally, right in the middle of my driveway at one o’clock in the morning. “Sister?”

  He rubbed his face again. “Damn, you got me good.”

  I thought of the way he’d put his arm around her shoulder, the way it had appeared romantic but could have been nothing more than brotherly affection.

  And now I was seriously screwed.

  “Oh, Dylan,” I stammered. “I thought—”

  “How did you know I gave her a ride to the library?”

  I wanted to lie and tell him I’d recognized his truck while picking up Chinese takeout, that I’d never stalked him in broad daylight or been close to his lake house.

  “I was driving by the lighthouse the other day.”

  “The lighthouse again?”

  I nodded.

  “Listen,” he shifted in his seat, anxious to wrap things up with the only girl in Presque Isle who’d ever rebuffed his advances. “It’s getting late.”

  My nose began to tingle.

  “I’ll see you around.”

  I nodded again, feeling exquisitely miserable before reaching for the door handle.

  “Justine.”

  I turned to his voice as he reached up slowly and touched my cheek.

  “Is it safe?”

  I nodded, every stringed instrument I’d ever heard playing in my mind.

  “Just the same,” he smiled again, “I think I’ll keep my distance.”

  “That might be for the best,” I said, not meaning it but feeling something in his restraint that was different—and good.

  He chuckled, left me wondering when I would see him again when he took a piece of paper out of his pocket and wrote his number down. One look and I knew I would not be dialing up the sheriff’s office.

  “Sleep tight,” he said while placing the piece of paper in my hand, his fingers lingering for a moment against my own.

  I imagined him doing just that. Imagined what it would be like to be the girl he came home to.

  “Thanks,” I managed while opening my door and stepping out into the arms of an early morning. “But I don’t think I will.”

  He smiled briefly before backing out of the driveway and I stood for several minutes after he’d left, listening to the sounds a small town makes past its bedtime—then slowly made my way inside.

  Chapter Seven

  I was standing in the middle of Cabin Five on my first day at Three Fires with vacuum in hand, ready to tackle the main rug when Pam laid a hand on my shoulder.

  I jumped, my nerves frayed from the night before, and turned to face her.

  “Can you start at the tavern tonight? I know it’s short notice, but Nat called in sick and Saturday’s our big night.”

  “Gee…”

  “Our manager’s there and you can train on the job.” She stopped and smiled at me in a way that must have captivated dear old Dad. “Best way to learn if you ask me.”

  I frowned, trying to be brave in the face of this new challenge, but just showing up this morning had been a monumental feat. The possibility that Jamie might harass me seemed promising only in the respect that I would have an excuse to call Dylan. But Pam had sent him out to clear trails, a task that would keep him in the woods and out of my hair for most of the day.

  “I’d do it myself but I’m taking Adam up to Mackinaw City tonight.”

  “You are?” I asked while bending to scoot an ancient end table that supported exactly four copies of Good Housekeeping off the rug. The smell of dust and mildew and traces of Pine-Sol met my nose when I did so.

  “A guy I dated lives up there and he likes to see Adam every now and again.”

  A guy she dated?

  I stopped, stood back up and wiped my sweaty forehead with the back of my hand. I had dressed the part in a pair of cut off jean shorts and a gray Detroit Tigers shirt. Not that I cared about sports, but Brad had been sweet enough to pick it up for me when he took the boys to a game.

  Which made it perfect for scrubbing toilets.

  “So you’ll do it?” Pam asked.

  “Yeah,” I answered, forgetting about the bartending gig, wanting to know what sort of guys she’d dated and if Dad had ever called or written or sent paintings to pay for what he couldn’t give his son.

  “About Uncle Rob,” I said hesitantly, sticking my toe in the bathwater to see if it was warm. “What happened between you two?”

  She wiped her own forehead and shook her head. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  I didn’t really want to think of that, but she’d cracked the door and I was going in.

  “You said there were no bad memories.”

  Pam looked at me, scrutinizing at first before her face softened into the person my Dad must have loved.

  “I met Robert while canoeing the Ocqueoc River. Came around the bend and there he was, standing in the middle of my current with a fly rod in his hand.” She paused, wiped her face again and I saw the flush wasn’t from heat alone. “Ran right into him!”

  I imagined Dad, his khaki waders protecting him, his flies tied to his vest, his shoulder-length hair pulled back in a ponytail and wondered if Pam had loved him at first sight, and if he had pushed the memory of the girl he’d married in the country chapel out of his mind.

  “We dated for a few months and I got pregnant. Robert had a job downstate and spent a lot of time there, but he made it back for Adam’s birth. We lived together for a while, but he never asked me to marry him.”

  I felt my jaw tighten. “Did you want him to?”

  She nodded, the color in her cheeks again. “I loved him.”

  Of course she loved him. Everyone loved him—Mom and I included.

  “He left for good not long after Adam was born.”

  A terrible thought formed in my mind, and I opened my mouth, shut it again before I had the guts to mumble, “Did he know? About Adam?”

  Pam shook her head, and I could tell the subject bothered her, which meant she’d thought about it. “Adam didn’t show any signs until he was two.”

  “You never saw him again?”

  “No.”

  “No note or anything?”

  She looked at me, her green eyes seeming to go deeper than I was comfortable with, and answered, “He left nothing.”

  “I’m sorry—”

  She shrugged. “I’m assuming you don’t know where he is.”

  “No,” I said quickly. “Of course not.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Can I take a break?” I asked, feeling strange, lightheaded, and heavy.

  “Sure thing,” she answered. “If you need to cool off go out on the porch.”

  “I will,” I said while moving off to do just that. Once seated in a white plastic chair, I stared out at Ocqueoc Lake while a memory from my childhood took root and found a place in the present. Dad and I were sitting at the breakfast nook in our house on Harbrooke Street, the one with the bay windows. He was holding a cup of coffee and I had my coloring book.

  I had just finished a picture and Dad had leaned closer to see.

  “What is it, Muffet?”

  Laying my crayons aside, I held the picture up. I’d drawn a man with a long riding coat and high leather boots. A man with no face.

  “Is that a cowboy?” my father asked, his tone tender, hoping.

  “No,” I answered, certain he was no such thing.

  “Does he scare you?”

  I nodded, “Sometimes I see him in my dreams.”

  Dad had come closer then, leaning down, his hair just brushing the side of my cheek and I touched his face. He turned so I could look into his eyes.

  They were worried.

  “He can’t hurt y
ou, Muffet.”

  I looked up at him, unsure. “Does he scare you, Daddy?”

  My nodded. “Very much.”

  “Feel better?” Another voice coated my memory, dissolving it as water would a chalk drawing on the sidewalk and I was left with Pam at my left ear, coaxing me back to the present moment as gently as a warm wind.

  “Yep,” I said while standing up and turning towards the cabin.

  Just then the screen door opened and Jamie Stoddard walked out looking every bit the backwoodsman with a chip on his shoulder. Gunning for me, no doubt. Wanting to bend my ear for ditching him in the early morning hours. But he didn’t say anything, just stood with his arms crossed and waited.

  Pam turned as Adam entered behind Jamie, his dark eyes searching the room for me.

  I KNOW WHO YOU ARE.

  I heard it as surely as I’d heard Pam speak a moment ago, only stronger, as though the voice trapped inside this boy had been rattling the cage that imprisoned it. And while this should have been the strangest thing to ever happen to me, it didn’t surprise me as much as it would have two weeks ago.

  Holding his gaze with my own, I tried to direct my response in a way he might hear and tossed my thought towards him like a baseball toward a catcher’s mitt.

  WHO AM I?

  Adam moved closer, put a hand to his left ear.

  YOU’RE MY SISTER

  I felt his words like a bucket of ice water to the face—which soon passed into the warm feeling of an expectation realized. Wanted. Hoped for.

  “How’s your first day going?” Jamie asked, his voice a rude reminder of where I was and who I shouldn’t be able to hear inside my head.

  “Fine.”

  “Not too tired, I hope.”

  I wondered what he thought I’d done after he drove off then gave a quick shake of my head.

  “She’s doing great,” Pam offered. “And she’s gonna switch hit for me tonight.”

  Jamie’s gaze shifted to me again. “Starting at the tavern?”

  I nodded.

  “Maybe I’ll swing by and give you a hand.”

  “Mallard’ll be there. Nothing to worry about,” Pam stepped in, leading Jamie back towards the side of the cabin to talk about which trails he’d cleared—and I was grateful.

  But who the hell was Mallard?