"Yes,” his father replied. “Anybody object to one more movie before we turn in?" No response.
"Yea! I'll make popcorn," declared Melinda, heading for the kitchen.
"Cassie, why don't you come with me and you can change into some pajamas before we start the movie. You look like you're going to fall asleep any minute. If you do, we can get you up to bed, but I wouldn't feel right about you sleeping in your clothes," suggested Mrs. Stuart.
"Up you go, sleepyhead," Will commented as he helped me up from the sofa.
I followed Mrs. Stuart to her room at the opposite end of the upstairs hall from Will's. It was a calming room―green, mauve and cream in simple patterns with traditional oak furniture. A subtle but strong blend of color and texture and line that struck me as suiting Will's parents quite nicely. "Here you go," Mrs. Stuart said, handing me a pair of blue flannel pajamas with white snowflakes all over them. "These may be a bit large on you, but should work for tonight. Why don't you go on in my bathroom and put them on? There's a new toothbrush on the counter if you want to go ahead and brush your teeth. If you don't want any of Melinda's popcorn, that is."
"Okay. Thanks," I answered sleepily, heading into the bathroom.
"You're welcome," she replied as I shut the door.
While I got ready for bed, I couldn't help thinking again about all that had transpired since yesterday afternoon when I was utterly convinced that I would never see Will again after my "problem" surfaced at the football game. Not only was I still seeing him, I was now in his home in his mother's pajamas―with Mark and Gina's knowledge and consent. And, on top of all that, I had agreed to marry him.
Sometimes life was just strange. But at least this was a good strange.
"Mrs. Stuart, where should I put my clothes?" I asked as I exited the bathroom.
"Do you want them washed?"
"No. I think they'll be fine for tomorrow."
"Then just put them here on the bed, and I'll hang them up later. By the way, Gina mentioned she would bring a change of clothes for you tomorrow in case you wanted them." Just like Gina. Worried about what in the world was going on with me this week―and with good cause―but still thinking about practicalities such as clean clothes.
"Sounds good." It wasn't until then that I noticed she had also changed into some flannel pajamas. Hers had teddy bears of different colors all over them.
She noticed me looking at them. "I believe in comfort at this time of day, especially for watching movies. And I don't want you feeling awkward because you're the only one in pajamas.” She nodded at the ones I had put on. “Those should be modest enough to satisfy my commitment to Gina about you and Will, don't you think?" She seemed to believe that I knew what that commitment entailed, yet she hadn't told me. She must be assuming that I had helped myself to the information. Was that something else I had routinely done?
I looked down at my attire and smiled. "I think so."
"Good. Well, let's go watch the movie," she said as she put her arm through mine and we made our way back to the family room.
The following day, I could remember Will complimenting me on my fashion sense (ha, ha) as his mother and I entered the room, and cuddling me in his arms as the movie started. And I had a vague recollection of someone carrying me and lying me gently on a soft bed with a softer pillow; then covering me up, kissing my cheek, and whispering in my ear, "Goodnight, Love." That was all. And it was more than enough.
As I woke in the morning, I first noticed that the sun was up and it looked like a beautiful day outside. I was lying in a queen size bed. Guest room? Probably, I concluded. As I began to get up, I also noticed that I wasn't alone―Will was sitting in a chair between the door on my left and the dresser on the wall opposite the bed. I couldn't help smiling to see him there.
He smiled back. "I have parental approval to be here as long as the door stays open all the way. (It's a spending-the-night thing.) Mom asked me to tell you that your clothes are in the closet," pointing toward what turned out to be the door to said closet, "and your toothbrush and some toiletries and other things are in the bathroom," to which he also pointed. "Mom likes to be well prepared for guests. Also, clean towels, are of course, available should you wish to shower.
"Do you wish?"
Yes, I definitely did. But exactly how I wished to do it at that moment . . . . Where was that coming from? My imagination was running wild. Best to stop it right away. I took a deep breath, then shook my head as if to dislodge any errant thoughts.
Another how many months?
"Yes, I wish."
The avid look on Will's face sent my heart racing. He responded not really to what I had said, but to what I had tried not to think. "I do, too. In time."
"Right." What else could I say?
Better get busy. I went to get my clothes out of the closet, then headed for the bathroom.
"Do you mind if I wait?" he inquired.
"I think I would mind if you didn't," I replied.
"Good enough."
Mrs. Stuart had thought of more than I would have: Toothpaste, deodorant, lotion, soap, shampoo and conditioner. She had even included various combs and brushes, including a very large tooth comb just right for my new hairstyle.
I located towels, set out my clothes, undressed, and got in the shower. I figured it had been close to twenty-four hours since my perm, so I let my hair get wet, but, of course―pursuant to the strict instructions given me by Norma―didn't shampoo it. I turned the water off, got out, and was wrapping my hair in a towel when there was a knock on the bathroom door.
“Yes?”
"May I inquire as to how much longer you will be?" my favorite voice asked.
"Why?"
"Because I'm feeling impatient. And the chef would like to know when to have breakfast ready."
The chef? His mom? "About five minutes."
"Okay. Thanks." I heard him speak briefly to someone, but couldn't quite make it out. I could sense enough, however, to know it was Melinda that he was talking to. I already knew―or remembered―the whole Stuart family well enough that I could pick them out easily by their . . . feel, I guess, would be the best word.
When I thought he had finished, Why didn't you ask me this way instead of knocking?
"Still out of the habit, I guess. It's coming back to me, though. Like picking up on what you were starting to visualize when I mentioned taking a shower." I already knew that. But did I mind?
Did he?
Did it . . . bother you?
"Oh, yeah," he replied, "but not in the way you mean."
Oh. I understood. And grinned at myself in the mirror. It was so exciting to experience these new feelings―to know that I actually could. (Before, I had always kept a tight grip on all my emotions, denying anything out of the ordinary in order to keep myself safe.) And to feel them about Will, who felt them back every bit as powerfully as I did. It was wonderful! However, and although I knew that it was all real, my life experience of the last ten years made it hard to wrap my mind around this reality in particular.
Just a few days ago, I hadn't even allowed myself to consider the possibility of such a relationship. And now . . . .
This isn't going to be easy, is it?
"No. But it will be worth it."
Really?
"Honest."
Well, all clean, all dressed, hair combed. Towels hung. Pajamas folded. Bathroom straightened. Waterproof, smudgeproof mascara mostly gone. But what was left looked okay. Breath? Hmm. Brush teeth. Okay. All done. I was ready.
It was a good thing that I had decided to brush my teeth. The second I opened the bathroom door, Will scooped me up and kissed me eagerly. I put my arms around his neck to help him. He continued kissing me as he walked over to the bed and sat with me on his lap. "Good morning," he greeted me when we finally came up for air.
It took a bit to recover enough to speak. For someone who had so little actual experience, he was certainly . . . adept. Or maybe it wasn't tha
t. Maybe it had more to do with our feelings for each other than his skill. But he was still . . . adept. Very. "Yes, it is, isn't it?"
"Yup." He studied my face, considering. Then kissed me again. "Hungry?"
I caught myself beginning to visualize again. Another brief recovery period, and a sigh. "In more ways than one, I'm afraid."
He smirked at me. "Well, let's take care of the hunger for food. Breakfast should be ready by now, and the chef doesn't like to be kept waiting." He put me gently off his lap and, taking my hand, started out the door.
"Who is 'the chef'? Your mom?"
"No. It's Dad. He cooks every once in a while. This morning he’s fixing whole wheat waffles, hash browns, scrambled eggs, bacon, and orange juice."
My mouth began watering just hearing the menu. "Come on. I'm starving." I started walking much faster, dragging Will along by the hand.
"In a hurry, huh?" He pulled me back to him, slung me up over his shoulder, and rushed down the stairs, through the other rooms and into the kitchen. "Cassie was in a hurry to sample your cooking, Dad," he explained as he positioned a chair and lowered me onto it.
Will's dad grinned, commented, "I see," then went back to his culinary pursuits. His mom also found the situation to be humorous, but was moderating her response. Melinda didn't even try―she just burst out laughing. And kept laughing until her mom prompted her, "That's probably enough, Sweetheart."
"Okay, Mom," Melinda managed to say while she wiped her eyes. "That was great, Will. I like seeing you do things like that to someone besides me." Then she added, "Although Cassie doesn't seem to mind it at all." She looked at me, as if expecting a response. I just grinned.
"Breakfast is ready," Dr. Stuart called out. We went through their family ritual of blessing the food, then everybody dug in. It sure looked and smelled delicious. And was. It was different from what I was accustomed to. (The only cooking Mark ever did was outside on the grill in the summer.) But, somehow, it didn't feel unfamiliar.
In fact, particularly for as little time as I had spent with the Stuart family―of late, that is―my comfort level had increased dramatically. Like it had been with Will, although not as immediately. Remembrances were now coming to me in an easy flow. Gently, reassuringly. Not like the deluge of the previous day.
By the time Mark and Gina arrived that afternoon, I felt quite at home. (Which, again, was virtually unheard of for me anywhere.) And they seemed to feel that way pretty quickly, too. It would have been hard not to be at ease with Mrs. Stuart. She was so open and friendly, and in a totally non-controlling way. She greeted Mark and Gina when they rang the doorbell, introducing herself as Laura (the first time I really thought of her as having a first name―probably left over from ten years ago when I was seven), and Dr. Stuart as Richard (same thing).
Will and I had decided it would be judicious to detach ourselves from each other for a while (which was much more easily said than done) so as not to alarm Mark and, especially, Gina. So, when they were shown into the family room, Melinda and I were innocently watching a movie and Will was . . . somewhere else. Probably his room. I got up to give each of them a hug, and Gina handed me a bag with some clean clothes. "Although it doesn't really look like you need them," she commented.
"Probably not. But thanks, anyway," I responded. "I'll run them upstairs for now." Hurray! An excuse to go find Will. It did actually occur to me that I was behaving in a somewhat obsessive fashion. But why should that stop me?
I hurried upstairs to put the bag in the guest room―which was next to Dr. and Mrs. Stuart's room―then almost ran to the other end of the hall and Will's room. His door was wide open, and he was sitting with his back to it, working on the computer at his desk. He had music on. Something classical. And I wondered if there was even the slightest possibility that I could sneak up on him. (Right.) So, for fun, I walked slowly and carefully across his room until I was just behind him. I was deciding whether to put my hands over his eyes or my arms around his neck, when he deftly whirled his chair around―catching my legs with his outstretched ones and the rest of me with his arms―and landed me on top of him.
Well, that was a failure. Or was it? Will had me in his arms, and―oh, yes―now he was kissing me. Hmm. It didn't feel like a failure. I was just beginning to seriously kiss him back when we were interrupted.
"Psssst. Cassie," Melinda was calling from the doorway in a stage whisper.
"What?" I responded, quite distractedly.
"Mom and Dad are giving your parents a tour of the house, and they're coming upstairs next. Quick, come in my room." And she headed into her room which was right next to Will's.
"Oh . . . phooey!" I got up and started after her―Will's arms reluctantly letting me go―then did an about face. "Quickly," I said and, taking his face in my hands, kissed him as fervently as two or three seconds would permit. Then I dashed for Melinda's room, making it through her door as her parents and mine reached the top of the stairs. She certainly seemed to be enjoying this cloak and dagger aspect of my relationship with her brother. In fact, she already had cards set up on her bed so it looked like we were partway through a game.
We heard Dr. Stuart's voice, "This is Melinda's room," and her mom saying, "Hi, girls," as they looked in and moved on. Dr. Stuart continued, "Will, Mr. and Mrs. Campbell are here."
"I've already met Mrs. Campbell," he replied, and I could imagine him again holding out his hand to shake hers.
"Gina, please," she said.
"That's right. Thank you, Gina."
"And this is Mark," Gina offered.
"Nice to meet you, Will," and Mark would be shaking hands with him. "Just call me Mark."
"Thank you. It's nice to meet you, too."
And it was over. Mark and Gina had now both met Will Stuart, the center of my world, and nothing bad had happened. Maybe it was silly, but I was tremendously relieved. Or maybe it wasn't so silly. The better they liked him, and his family, the more likely it would be that they would be supportive when we informed them of our engagement. Though I was still confident that there would be no way to obtain their consent for me to marry while I was still seventeen. I sighed.
"What?" Melinda asked.
Probably better not try to explain. I didn't know how much Will wanted her to know. "Oh, I just can't seem to draw the card I need." Which was true.
"Well, they're gone now. So we can quit if you want."
"Okay." We bounced off the bed and went to look around the door frame into the hall to make sure the coast was clear. It was. "Thanks, Melinda."
"I owed you one. You know, for the math tutoring?" she reminded me.
"Oh, yeah. Are we even now?"
"No. This is too much fun. Just let me know when you need me again," she blithely declared. "I'll stand guard if you want to go back in."
"Thanks. I'll check with Will." But Will was no longer in his room. "He must have gone downstairs with them."
Melinda snickered. "You know what's going to happen when you two are together. You're both going to forget and start holding hands or something. Just the way you look at each other is enough to give it all away." Sometimes she was too precocious.
"Any suggestions?" I asked, somewhat perturbed by her observation.
"Cassie?" It was Dr. Stuart's voice calling.
"I'll think about it. But it may already be too late . . . ." And Melinda went back into her room.
"Yes?" I called back.
"Will you come down for a minute, please?"
"Sure. Coming." Now what?
He met me at the bottom of the stairs. "Mark and Gina are in the study waiting for us. Are you ready?"
Uh-oh. I took a deep breath and let it out quickly. "As ready as I'll ever be, I guess."
He smiled and put his arm around my shoulder. "Don't worry. I've talked with many parents." Yes, but not on behalf of someone who's desperately in love with your son. Or, with that someone's parents who don't even know about that yet. And, who will, according to Melinda
, figure that out almost immediately. If they haven't already.
But he turned out to be right. There was no need to worry. Dr. Stuart had Mark and Gina in the palm of his hand, so to speak, in no time. In fact, they were very grateful that he and Will were able and willing to help me. They had been more concerned about me than they had wanted me to know (which I had already sensed), and expressed to Dr. Stuart that they had even been praying about my anxiety issues for a long time. (I had always done my best to honor their prayers by staying out of them as completely as I was able. My efforts had apparently been more effective than I had realized.) They hadn’t known what else they could do after all the counseling resources had been exhausted. So, this was like a miracle in their eyes.
Dr. Stuart explained to them how Will and I had really "hit it off," and that he was sure that a good part of it was because we had so much in common. We were both very bright, and, related to that, very sensitive to our environment. Will had experienced similar difficulties earlier in his life, and had learned techniques which were effective for him. He offered to work with Will in teaching those techniques to me.
Gina said she had noticed that Will and I seemed to be strongly attracted to each other, and she was concerned that our relationship might be progressing a bit fast, especially considering our relative ages and my “inexperience.” Dr. Stuart validated her concerns, then went on to demonstrate quite respectfully and convincingly that they were not necessary. I couldn't remember afterward exactly what he said, because I was fascinated with reading Mark and Gina as he very logically and irrefutably laid out his viewpoint.
By the time our meeting was over, Mark and Gina had essentially given me carte blanche to consort with Dr. Stuart's family at will, the only proviso being that I have Dr. and Mrs. Stuart's consent. In fact, Gina confided to Dr. Stuart that she had never been entirely easy in her mind about my going home to an empty house after school. She would actually prefer that I come home with Melinda, knowing that Laura would be there. (She didn't comment on the fact that Will would also be there, which seemed a good thing to me.)
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