More than you know. I thought of Jackson standin’ out by the creek in the pitch black waitin’ for me, riskin’ his life just to talk to me, and the excitement that chased me as I ran through the fields toward him. “I care. I do care.”
“Then you won’t tell Daddy.”
Lyin’ to Daddy was new to me. Before meetin’ Jackson I’d only lied twice—once two years ago about if Jimmy Lee had ever tried to touch me in ways that weren’t appropriate (I wanted Jimmy Lee to touch me, so I didn’t feel that was really a lie, or inappropriate), and the other time just the other day about where I had been when I missed dinner. I wasn’t about to tell Daddy that I was with Jackson.
“Okay, but promise me that you won’t do anything dangerous.”
Maggie nodded fast and furious, then took me in her long, sinewy arms and hugged me tight. She pulled away and said, “Okay, good. Good.” She hopped over to her bed and dove under the covers.
I lay in bed waitin’ for Maggie to fall asleep, and hopin’ Jackson wouldn’t leave. The hours had passed by so quickly that I was sure he had. But still, I had to try to see him, drawn to him like a thirsty man to a river. The spark of electricity, the pull in my stomach I’d felt when Jackson held me, came rushin’ back and made me shiver. The right and wrong of bein’ together made it that much more titillatin’. How I craved to share my secret!
I wondered if I was missin’ some clue, an indication that Jackson would one day become just as hurtful as Jimmy Lee. Did all boys eventually evolve into selfish, aggressive men? My father didn’t seem that way, but then again, he treated his farmhands like machines. Wasn’t that just as bad?
I don’t know how long I laid there, worryin’ on the thought and cravin’ his touch at the same time, but when I looked over, Maggie was fast asleep.
I turned to face the wall, still in my skirt and blouse, and fought the urge to see Jackson. I didn’t want to put him in danger.
Ten minutes later I snuck out the back door and ran through the field, my heart thumpin’ like a jackrabbit. Please be there. Please be there. I slowed as I neared our meetin’ spot, listenin’ to the soft voices of nature. Inhalin’ the scent of the creek, my nerves pulled tight as a spool of yarn. Maggie’s words and the hope of freedom for the Johns family flitted through me.
I flicked on my flashlight. “Jackson?”
Silence.
I walked toward the water, illuminatin’ the dark night. “Jackson?” I called again. He was gone. Had he even come and waited for me? Fear shot through me like a bullet. Jimmy Lee. Oh, God, no. I turned and ran toward home. If Jimmy Lee got wind of us, he’d kill him. My foot caught on a ditch and my body fell forward, landin’ on the earth with a thud. My hands and knees stung. I cried out as I pushed myself up. The darkness consumed me. I brushed myself off, prayin’ Jimmy Lee didn’t find out about Jackson.
My flashlight grew dim. I reached for it just as it went dark. Dead. A sign? I was too frightened to think straight. I had to find Jackson. Please, Lord, please let him be okay.
“Alison.”
My heart jumped into my throat. I spun toward his voice. Jackson’s worry-filled eyes stole my breath. He reached for my tremblin’ body and pulled me close, one hand on the back of my head, like Mama used to do when I was a little girl, the other hand on my lower back.
“Shhh.”
I shivered from the cold and couldn’t stop the river of tears. The relief in my heart was too big. I opened my mouth to speak, but a coherent string of words didn’t come. I’d already pictured his bloated body mirrorin’ Mr. Bingham’s and couldn’t reconcile the image with the livin’, breathin’ man before me.
My palms pressed into his chest, confirmin’ the surety of him. His heart beat hard and true against my hands. I touched the warm skin of his cheeks.
“Alison,” he whispered.
I put my finger to his soft, succulent lips. Real life fell away—Mama, the farm, Jimmy Lee—none of it mattered or existed. None of it belonged to me any longer. The only thing that remained was Maggie’s determination to make our embrace okay, and how deliciously safe I felt. Jackson brought his hands to the back of my head, his thumbs pressin’ against the hollow beneath my ears. He leaned into me, his body tense, his gaze slidin’ right into my soul. I put my lips to his, tastin’ his sweet breath. His tongue slipped slowly into my mouth, lingerin’ inside me, caressin’ the roof of my mouth, the sides of my teeth. I’d died and gone to heaven. A light rain trickled upon us, drippin’ down our faces like tiny, little blessin’s.
He kissed my cheeks, my neck. “Alison.”
I pulled him down to the ground, our bodies now a part of the field. He pushed my hair from my face. “Alison,” he said again, lyin’ beside me.
Desire swallowed my voice. Love poured from his fingertips as they trailed my blouse. “We can’t,” he whispered.
I pushed him onto his back. “We can,” I said, and brought my lips to his, alightin’ warmth between my legs. I reached for the buttons on his pants. He grabbed my wrist, shakin’ his head.
I lowered my lips to his fingers, drawin’ them back from the ridges of my wrist, and moved them slowly into my mouth, one by one. I wanted to taste every inch of him. His body trembled in anticipation. He closed his eyes. I watched him bite his lower lip, fightin’ his desires. Know your place, my father’s voice whispered. I was surprised how easily I was able to ignore it.
I pushed his shirt up around his neck and kissed his chest, gently movin’ his arms away when he reached for me. Tears fell onto his chest as I ran my tongue down his stomach. He sucked in a breath, liftin’ my head, meetin’ my eyes.
“I’m leavin’. In a week, I’ll be gone.” His eyes pleaded somethin’ between desire and fear.
“We have now.”
He shook his head, and pulled me alongside him. He leaned over me. “I want more than now.”
I moved beneath him. “I’ll wait for you.” I didn’t know if I meant those words or not, but at that very second, their meanin’ felt as real as the ground beneath me. I reached for his cheek. He grabbed my arm and brought it between us. Our eyes met over my ring.
“You’re not mine to have.”
We stared at each other for interminable minutes. The rain sprinkled the ground around us.
“I am, here,” I laid my hand on my heart, “where it matters.”
Sadness laced his eyes. He turned away.
“I won’t get married.” I said, and in the heat of that moment I meant it. “When you get out of the military, we can go to New York, with your friend, and my sister.”
Hope swelled between us like a heartbeat. Jackson rested his forehead on my chin. I arched my neck and kissed his worry lines away.
When he entered me, I gasped from pleasure, every nerve inside me sprang to life. He moved slow and careful, watchin’ my eyes, askin’ if I was okay. His body shook, though his muscles strained beneath my hands. He kissed my cheeks, my eyes, licked my lips, in ways Jimmy Lee never had. We moved together like a perfect chorus to a familiar song. The brown of his eyes basked in love so true I could feel it wrappin’ around us like a blanket. Suddenly his body shivered and shook. He grit his teeth and let out a few fast, hard breaths.
My future became clear. I could no longer be with Jimmy Lee. My heart belonged there, with Jackson. No matter how wrong Daddy might think we were, and for as long as it might take until we could safely be together, I would wait for him.
Chapter Nine
I awoke in a panic Saturday mornin’. What had I done? How would I get myself out of my impendin’ marriage? I ran down the stairs and bolted out the front door. I needed air.
Mama and Maggie were headin’ toward the house from the garden out past the barn. The mornin’ sunlight illuminated Mama’s golden hair. Her striped, blue dress hung past her knees, the only thing that differentiated her age from Maggie’s. Maggie’s short shift stopped mid-thigh. I wondered what Daddy might think. Maggie threw her head back and laughed. I longed for her
strength and confidence.
I heard Daddy’s tractor in the distance, and looked for Jake’s bike. It was gone. Jake had been spendin’ more and more time away from home, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.
“Pixie!” Maggie’s voice broke through my worry.
Headin’ in her direction, I yelled, “I like your boots.” I’d only seen knee-high boots in fashion magazines. Maggie wrapped the crook of her arm around my neck.
“Now I’m one of the cool girls,” she said with a pose.
“Until Daddy sees you. He won’t let you wear those.”
Mama lifted her eyebrows in confirmation.
“Come on, Pix, before we go I want to show you somethin’.” Maggie grabbed my hand and ran toward the barn. She called over her shoulder, “We’ll be back in a bit!”
I pulled the bottom of my skirt as low as it would go to cover the backs of my legs. The hay tickled my skin. Maggie wiggled beside me, pushin’ the hay flat beneath her thighs. “This loft used to be much more comfortable,” I laughed.
“We’re orderin’ your weddin’ invitations today,” Maggie said.
I looked out the small window that overlooked the fields. “I know,” I said.
“So, if you’re gonna back out, now’s the time.”
“Maggie!” I swatted at her arm. “I can’t back out. Mama’s already booked the church. Everyone knows about it. Daddy would kill me.” Please help me back out.
“So what?” Maggie pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her pocket and withdrew one cigarette. My eyes about popped out of my head as I watched her hold it elegantly between her lips and light the tip with a match.
“What are you doin’?” My eyes swept the entrance of the barn, afraid our parents might catch us.
Maggie took a long drag of the cigarette and held it in my direction with a nod.
“No, no way. You’re gonna get in so much trouble.” She exhaled and smoke wafted around us. I inched away, fannin’ the air.
She laughed. “I forget how young you are—and how sheltered. Everyone smokes, Pix.”
Maggie looked so sophisticated, jealousy wrapped itself around my muscles and squeezed. She held her hand out again in my direction. I reached for it, fumblin’ to hold the cigarette the way she did, and dropped it on the hay below us. Maggie scooped it up and tamped down the embers.
“Careful! You’ll burn the barn down.” She held the cigarette butt toward me and I moved my lips over it, sucked in a breath of awful-tastin’ smoke, and hacked until I fell over on my side, my face hot. My lungs burned. I knew then that I’d never be the same risk taker that Maggie was. I spat the ashy taste onto the hay. Maggie burst out laughin’, and I was only seconds behind her. The next thing I knew, Maggie had put out the cigarette and we were rollin’ around, throwin’ hay at each other.
Maggie climbed on top of me and held me down, my arms pinned beneath her knees. We were laughin’ so hard my stomach hurt.
“Truth,” she said. “Do you want to marry him?”
“Truth?” I sobered.
“Truth.”
I looked at Maggie for a long time, wantin’ desperately to make her happy, to side with her in whatever her dreams and goals might be. I ached to be as cool as she was, and as worldly, but I knew I didn’t have it in me. I didn’t even possess the strength to confide in my own sister and admit that I didn’t want to marry Jimmy Lee. I shrugged.
“Uh-uh. That doesn’t work, Pix.” She pressed her knees harder into my arms.
“Ouch!”
“Mama and Daddy can’t make your life into what you want, Pix, only you can. This is about you. Tell me.”
I turned my head, gazin’ out the window, and prayin’ for strength. “I don’t know.”
Maggie slid off of my arms. I rubbed the pulsin’ soreness from them.
“That’s better,” she sighed. “Now that we know the truth, tell me more.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Do you want to marry him? Are you sure he’s the only person, the only man you want to be with? Ever?” She turned “man” into a two-syllable word.
I bit my lower lip.
“Pixie, I’ve been your age. I know what’s goin’ on in that body of yours, the way your hormones are dancin’ ‘round in ways Mama and Daddy would kill you for.”
My cheeks burned with embarrassment.
“Yeah?” There was that mischievous smile again. “So, tell me.”
“I can’t,” I said, movin’ away from her.
“Have you done it?” she asked.
My jaw dropped open. “Sheesh, Maggie. A little direct, aren’t you?”
“Real, maybe,” she smirked. “Come on, I’m your sister. Okay, I’ll start.” She crawled over to where I was sittin’ and leaned against my back. Maggie must have known that it would be easier for me to talk to her if I didn’t have to look her in the eye. “I did it when I was your age. Remember Mr. Crantz?”
“That substitute from Mississippi?” I was mortified. “He was so old. Gross.”
“He was not. He was twenty-seven, and he was adorable.”
“Gross.”
“Okay, your turn.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Pixie, what are you afraid of? That I’ll run and tell Mama and Daddy? Uh, no. This is me you’re talkin’ to.”
I locked my eyes on the tips of my fingers, tappin’ them up and down on the hay.
“Are you careful at least?” she asked.
I nodded against the back of her head.
“Always?”
No. “Yes.” Another painful lie. My stomach tightened.
She let out a relieved sigh. “Good, because the last thing you need is to get pregnant.” She spun around and in the next moment was sittin’ next to me. “Is that where you were last night?” The high-pitched excitement in her voice matched my fear of her knowin’.
“What are you talkin’ about?”
“Gosh, Pix, do you think I’m dumb? You went to bed with your clothes on. Anything you’re doin’, I’ve already done—many times over.”
I doubt that. I put my head down on my knees.
“You don’t have to tell me, but you know if Daddy finds out you’re dead meat.” She went to the window and tapped on the panes. “See the path? Daddy will see that one day and you’ll be in a lot of trouble. You need to be more careful.”
I looked at the flattened plantin’s, a clear path leadin’ to a large flattened area where we were last night. I crossed my arms to stop them from shakin’.
“Pix,” Maggie said, turnin’ my head with her hand so I was facin’ her serious eyes. “You can’t get caught. You hear me?”
The truth in her words was more significant than she knew.
“Girls?” Mama’s voice sang into the loft from below, stealin’ my chance to tell Maggie what was really goin’ on. “Let’s go.”
Before we climbed down the ladder, Maggie whispered in my ear, “Don’t confuse sex for love.”
Chapter Ten
The pungent smell of flowers greeted us at Mrs. Watson’s front door. I looked around for a vase of newly picked stems, but saw none as we walked through the threshold of the old farmhouse. Lace doilies covered every surface of the dark furniture. Mrs. Watson bustled around us in her skirt and newly-pressed blouse.
“I can’t believe the big day is so close!” Mrs. Watson clapped her hands together. Though she was only in her mid-sixties, she moved slowly. Mama wondered who would take over the invitation business when Mrs. Watson no longer wanted to sell them. From her enthusiasm, I wondered if that day would ever come.
When she leaned in to hug me, I realized that the overpowerin’, sweet smell was comin’ from Mrs. Watson’s perfume.
“You’ve grown up so much, Alison.” She embraced Maggie. “Oh, dear, when are you gettin’ married?”
Maggie looked at me and rolled her eyes, then turned on a charmin’ smile and said, “I don’t know, but I’ll be sure to
order my invitations from you when I do.”
Mama glared at Maggie.
“Of course you will.” Mrs. Watson led us to the livin’ room, nicely appointed with braided rugs and a dark wing chair at the front, which she stood behind as she pointed to the couch. “Please, sit.”
Mrs. Watson’s gray hair was piled high on her head like a puff of frostin’. She sat down in the wing chair, settin’ a thick, paper catalog on her lap, and a permanent smile across her thin lips. “Alison, this is a big decision for you. Do you have a color scheme in mind?”
I couldn’t take my eyes off of her nose. I had never noticed the way it pointed and turned toward the right, just slightly at the tip. I blinked away my stare. The idea of plannin’ a weddin’ with Jimmy Lee turned my stomach. Instead, I thought of what I might want if I were to marry Jackson. “Yes, ma’am. Beige and white, please.”
She sat up straighter and moved her feet in closer, knees so tight they could hold a penny between them. “Beige? For a weddin’?”
“Alison likes things simple,” Mama offered.
Maggie kicked my foot. I looked at her out of the corner of my eyes and she mouthed, You can still get out of this.
“Girls, pay attention,” Mama said.
I snapped my eyes back to Mrs. Watson’s nose. “Yes, ma’am. I like things simple.”
She said, “Well, it is your weddin’, dear,” but her tone said, It will be ugly, but it’s your choice. She flipped through the catalog, sighin’ and glancin’ up at me. “We don’t have much with beige.” Flip, flip, flip. “I don’t believe I’ve ever ordered beige invitations before.”
I wanted to run out of the room. I didn’t care what she wanted, and with Maggie sittin’ beside me, I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about what she said about love and sex. Maybe I was mixin’ up sex and love with Jackson. Ugh! My life had become much too complicated.
Finally, after what felt like an hour, but in reality was only minutes, Mrs. Watson said, “Here we go, beige,” with feigned enthusiasm. She pointed to two invitations, one with brown letters and one with a lighter shade, though not exactly beige. The embossed flowers were so tiny that they looked like bugs crawlin’ on the paper.
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