The Plan

by Kim Pritekel

Davis Landon burst into laughter as he slung his arm around Lysette’s shoulders. “Oh, yeah, maybe a month ago, I would have believed that.”

  “Yes,” Lysette added. “My little angel with a tarnished halo. A little crooked, too.” She reached over to pantomime straightening said crooked halo.

  “Hey, at least I have one,” Eleanor quipped, sending Davis into a new burst of laughter.

  “You two be good,” he said after calming, which took several moments. He left a fatherly kiss on the cheeks of both teens before striding back across the yard where his two sons had appeared with their fishing gear.

  Lysette watched him for a moment before turning to Eleanor surprised to see her entire demeanor had changed. She was looking down at her clasped hands and her shoulders were slumped.

  “Hey,” she said, placing her hand on Eleanor’s shoulder. “What’s wrong? Was my dad too touchy-feely? I can talk to him. He doesn’t mean anything by it, just his way—”

  “No,” Eleanor said softly, shaking her head as she raised her head and met Lysette’s gaze, her own filled with such sadness. “My father has never kissed my cheek.” She gave her a sheepish smile before her gaze dropped again. “Sorry. I don’t know why that hit me. I guess I just never realized it could be that way with a father, you know?”

  Lysette felt her heart break for her friend. She’d been blessed her entire life with wonderful parents, and it wasn’t until she’d met Eleanor and her mother that she truly realized what she had.

  “Come here,” she said softly, pulling Eleanor to her, a hand coming up to cup the back of her head as she urged it to rest on her shoulder. She smiled as Eleanor relaxed against her, their bodies flush as Eleanor’s arms wrapped around Lysette’s back. “I’ll share,” Lysette whispered, stroking Eleanor’s long, beautiful hair, which she kept down when at the Landon house.

  “Lysette! Eleanor! Come in, please,” Adalyn yelled from the open back door.

  Lysette glanced in the general direction of the house, then gave Eleanor a tight squeeze before loosening her hold. “Are you okay?” she asked softly, bringing a hand up to brush a few long strands of hair out of Eleanor’s beautiful face. At Eleanor’s nod, Lysette smiled. “Come on. Let’s see what the surprise is.”

  Arm in arm, the two made their way to the house, Adalyn standing in the doorway watching their advance, a curious expression on her face.

  “What?” Lysette asked, glancing over at Eleanor to see if her mother was seeing something she wasn’t. “Why do you look so smug?”

  “Come, come,” Adalyn said in lieu of a response.

  They entered the back door, which led directly to the kitchen, a bottle of wine and four glasses on the large prep table and an array of ingredients.

  Lysette’s eyes lit up. “Gâteau de Mamie!”

  “Exactament.” Adalyn grinned, walking over to the table and popping the cork on the bottle, steadily pouring two full glasses of wine and two half-glasses, which she handed to the teens. “Apprécie, mon amour,” she said, giving Lysette a kiss to the cheek, then Eleanor. She gave them a devilish grin. “Let’s bend the law a bit, uh?” she said, indicating the wine.

  “Merci, Maman.” Lysette was excited, not given wine very often. It was essentially only on special occasions. A glance at Eleanor made her laugh. “It’s okay. It’s good.”

  “I, uh…” Eleanor stared down into the dark liquid before meeting Lysette’s excited gaze with fear. “My father would kill me. I can’t.” She was handing the glass back to Adalyn when someone else entered the room.

  “Then I guess we won’t be telling him, will we?”

  Eleanor’s eyes saucered at the sight. “Mama?”

  Emma gave them all a radiant smile. To be honest, Lysette thought that beautiful expression took ten years off her face.

  Emma accepted the full glass Adalyn offered her, as well as the kiss to the cheek, then took Eleanor in a tight, one-armed hug, careful not to spill either of their wine.

  “What are you doing here?” Eleanor asked, her tone breathless after the hug ended. “I thought Father made you go to that revival.”

  “We were going to go, but Gabby invited him to some meeting or something. I don’t know, some stupid group he belongs to.”

  Lysette’s eyebrows shot up at Emma’s flippant language regarding her husband and his activities. She could tell Eleanor was just as stunned. “So you get to spend the day with us?”

  Emma grinned at her. “The day, the night, and the morning.” She put her arm around Eleanor’s shoulders. “Ladies, we are free for an entire day and night!”

  “This is one heck of a surprise, indeed,” Lysette said, nodding as she sipped her wine, looking ever like the little adult. “Let’s get to baking, ladies.”

  ****

  “Can I just say I had more fun this afternoon than I’ve ever had in my life?”

  Lysette smiled from where she sat on the bench of her vanity table in her bedroom, painting her fingernails. She glanced over at Eleanor, who lay across her bed. “Yes, yes, you can.”

  “Oh, thank you so much for your permission,” Eleanor teased, moving from her back to her side, head resting in her palm. “I had no idea my mom could be so feisty.”

  “I know, that was amazing,” Lysette agreed, pinky sticking straight out as she carefully twisted the cap onto the small glass fingernail polish bottle before spreading her fingers out and blowing on the tacky nails, painted light pink. “Your mama has some serious spunk, that’s for sure.” With both hands up and all ten fingers spread, she made her way to the bed, Eleanor scooting over to make room for her. “How did she end up with your father again?”

  “Well,” Eleanor said, pushing up to a sitting position, pulling her bare feet in to sit cross-legged. “My father’s younger brother, Earl, was actually supposed to marry my mom. I’m not sure how they knew each other. I think a family friend or some such. But Earl was killed in the war, both of his brothers were.”

  “Oh, no,” Lysette breathed, pausing her motion of waving her hands around to dry the nails faster. She felt heartsick. Both her parents had lost so many they loved and cared for in the war, but she couldn’t imagine if both her brothers had been lost like that. “So was it romantic? Your father swooped in and took his place?” she asked, hopeful.

  Eleanor met her gaze, her tone flat. “He swooped in and demanded to take his place.”

  Lysette let out a heavy sigh, carefully leaning on her hands on the comforter to try to get more comfortable without making a tacky mess. “You know,” she said softly, “I try, I really try to find a reason to like and respect your father.” She met Eleanor’s gaze. “For the sheer reason that he is your father.” She shook her head. “I just can’t.”

  Eleanor gave her a small smile. “Trust me, I understand.”

  Lysette was about to say something when she hesitated, glancing toward her closed bedroom door. She heard it again, wild laughter coming from down the hall. Turning to Eleanor, she saw it had caught her attention, too. “Is that your mother?”

  “I think she’s had a bit more wine than she’s used to,” Eleanor said with a small smile.

  More raucous laughter and excited talking followed. “They sound like a couple hyenas.” Lysette laughed. She and Eleanor exchanged a quick look before, as if by silent command, they began an exaggerated imitation of their mothers.

  “Shut it, you two!” Adalyn called out, making the teens dissolve into laughter.

  Fallen to her side, Lysette tried to calm down, her stomach muscles sore. She looked over at Eleanor, who was also coming down from the fit of laughter. She was sitting back against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of her, covered by the skirt she wore, bare feet crossed at the ankles.

  She slowly sat up, mindful of her nails as she curled her knees up beside her, resting her weight on one hand. She studied Eleanor unobserved as those beautiful violet eyes were focused on her own hands, which sat in her lap. She thought Eleanor had such a natural beauty to
her, something she hadn’t seen before, at least not to the degree she did in her best friend.

  It was as though the best features had been taken from her parents, the best features that were associated with femininity: full lips, perfectly proportioned nose and eyes that were not just a beautiful color, but were so soulful and deep, they nailed you to the spot with a single glance. At times, Lysette found herself needing to look away, feeling as though Eleanor were looking inside her, learning all about her deepest, darkest secrets, desires, and fears. She made the normally confident redhead feel unsure and awkward at times.

  She was drawn to her, had been from the very moment she’d laid eyes on her. “Ellie?” she heard herself saying.

  “Hmm?” Eleanor responded, meeting her gaze.

  “I think we should practice.” Lysette was shocked inside by what she’d said, her mind reeling as she tried to find a way out of her proposal.

  “Practice?”

  “Yeah,” she said, changing her position as she sat up straight and crossed her legs in front of her. Though her heart raced and she knew deep down it was wrong or unfair, she forged on. “You may never get married, but I plan to fall in love someday. So why not help a girl out?” she finished with a quirky grin.

  Eleanor pulled her legs into her body to mirror Lysette’s position. “I still don’t follow.”

  Lysette looked into Eleanor’s confused eyes before taking in those full lips and finding her gaze again. She knew in that moment she could call the whole thing off. Eleanor wasn’t fully understanding what she was saying, so she could laugh it off, call it a joke, or tell her she wanted to practice the Charleston. But the truth was, she didn’t want to dance, and what she was feeling was no joke.

  In lieu of an immediate verbal response, Lysette scooted around so she was seated directly in front of Eleanor, their knees touching. She spared a glance to Eleanor before reaching out and taking her hands lightly in her own.

  “Now,” she finally said, taking a silent breath to try to calm her racing heart and nervous stomach. “I need to know what to expect or what I need to do for future situations, right?”

  Eleanor nodded slowly. “Right.”

  “So,” she drawled, giving Eleanor a teasing smile. “Why should I bother with a mirror or my arm when I have a living, breathing guinea pig here?”

  She was relieved when she saw a deep blush color Eleanor’s cheeks as realization hit and not offended repulsion. “Oh,” she breathed. “Practice.”

  “But only if you want to,” Lysette said softly, not wanting Eleanor to think she had no choices with her. “You know, no big deal.”

  “No, no,” Eleanor said, shaking her head. “It seems to be important to you. Besides,” she added with a small smile. “We wouldn’t want your future husband disappointed, now would we?”

  “Never.” Lysette winked at her, grateful for the slight bit of humor that had been brought into the situation, one which she’d created and now felt a bit like a cad for.

  “Okay, so uh…what do I do?” Eleanor asked, gaze filled with her uncertainty and discomfort.

  “Stay still so I don’t miss my target,” Lysette responded, trying to keep the lighter tone. “Close your eyes,” she whispered, the butterflies in her belly intensifying as Eleanor did as asked. Taking a deep breath, she leaned in.

  Lysette’s eyes slid closed as she moved into Eleanor’s personal space, able to feel her shallow breaths against her face, mingling with her own. The first touch of Eleanor’s lips was amazing.

  “Your lips are so soft,” she murmured with a smile, never opening her eyes.

  “So are yours,” Eleanor whispered.

  Lysette went in again, pressing her lips to Eleanor’s for a bit longer, familiarizing herself with the feeling, the softness, pleased when Eleanor didn’t open her mouth and try to suck in as much of Lysette’s mouth as she could, like the boy she’d kissed the year before.

  As their lips moved lightly against each other in small, tentative movements, Lysette felt Eleanor’s fingers tighten around her own. In response, she intertwined them, bringing a bit of intimacy into what they were doing. Essentially having no idea what she was doing, Lysette allowed herself to go off instinct, allowed her lips to feel what they wanted, her bottom lip to brush against Eleanor’s, which to her delight, brought a soft sigh from the very lips she was exploring.

  She felt Eleanor’s body relax, less stiff as their kiss continued, Lysette’s head tilting slightly. By accident, she sucked Eleanor’s bottom lip into her mouth, her tongue brushing against it. Lysette backed up slightly when Eleanor gasped and started. Their gazes met.

  “Sorry,” Lysette murmured. “Want me to stop?”

  Eleanor shook her head. “No, it’s okay.”

  Lysette slipped a hand out of Eleanor’s, about to place it on her knee for better leverage when there was a soft knock on the closed bedroom door. The two quickly backed away from each other, Lysette nearly falling ass over appetite off the bed.

  “Come in!” she called, steadying herself. She glanced over at Eleanor, who had pulled her legs up, arms wrapped around her shins. For a moment, she was truly worried that she’d crossed a line that never should have even been flirted with, but the quick look and smile Eleanor gave her stilled the heavy lump of dread in her gut.

  The door opened, and Emma peeked her head inside. “Eleanor, honey,” she said, looking ever the tired, heavy-hearted woman who Lysette had always known her to be before that afternoon. “It’s getting late, and we have to be up early for your father.”

  Without a word, Eleanor scooted to the side of the bed and got to her feet. She walked over to her mother but turned and looked at Lysette over her shoulder. “Thank you for such an amazing day, Lysette,” she said softly, the look in her eyes soft and filled with an emotion that Lysette couldn’t quite interpret.

  Chapter Ten

  In Scott’s borrowed Packard, Eleanor waited for a boy to pedal by on his bicycle before she turned left onto the dirt road that would lead to her mother’s two-bedroom house that sat on five acres of land, much of it taken up with the endless flowers and garden she planted every year.

  Eleanor smiled when she saw the white house with the black roof and the chimney with smoke billowing up into the overcast November day. She slowed as she approached the long drive that ran along the side of the property and house. She’d lived on the property for years, and though Eleanor often worried about her mother being out there all alone in such a rural area, her mother loved it, and it truly was beautiful. In any given direction, the Rocky Mountains could be seen, their white-capped tops evidence of the sometimes harsh but always stunning Colorado winters.

  Pulling the car to a stop, Eleanor smiled when her mother came running out of the house, apron still tied in place and arms held out wide.

  “Hey, Mom,” she said, climbing out from behind the steering wheel.

  “My little girl!” Emma crowed, gathering Eleanor into her arms almost painfully tight.

  “Not so little anymore,” Eleanor laughed, returning the hug and leaving a kiss on her mother’s cheek. Pulling away, she looked her mother over, making sure she was taking care of herself and eating properly. Her mother had survived the Depression and Ed Landry, so she had been conditioned well in caring for others before herself.

  “Come in, come in! I was so excited when you called, I made your favorite!”

  Eleanor mirrored her mother’s affection by placing her arm around her shoulders as they headed into the house. “Stuffed peppers?” she asked, hope in her voice even as her belly growled in anticipation. At the smile she got, she nearly giggled in girlish delight.

  “I thought Anne would be with you,” Emma said, dropping her arm from Eleanor’s shoulders to push open the front door, a wave of warm, wonderfully scented air hitting them.

  “Oh, my, that smells so good.” Eleanor grinned, closing her eyes. She let out a happy sigh as her eyes opened again, following her mother through the small fron
t room to the kitchen where a metal pot sat on the stove, the meat sauce she knew her mother had been cooking all afternoon simmering. “No, just me,” she said, finally responding to her mother’s earlier statement.

  Emma grabbed the dish towel that rested on the counter as she walked to the stove, using it to keep her fingers from getting burned as she opened the door and peeked inside.

  “Just about ready.”

  “Mind if I put some music on, Mom?” Eleanor shrugged out of her jacket and hung it and her purse in the closet off the kitchen.

  “Go for it,” Emma called from the stove.

  Eleanor wandered through the front room where a warm fire was popping in the fireplace. She had mixed emotions when she saw the old rocking chair sitting near it, an unfinished book lying on the seat. It was the only thing in her mother’s house from the old farmhouse as far as furniture went.

  The story was, her grandfather had made it for Emma when she found out she was pregnant with her first baby, a boy, who was stillborn. There were a lot of secrets around that situation that Eleanor didn’t understand. She’d heard a whisper that the child had been lost due to a beating her mother had taken, but she’d never dare ask about it. Six months after the baby was lost, her mother was pregnant again, and Eleanor was the result.

  She ran her fingers along the top of the smooth carved back of the rocker and headed to the corner where the record player rested on a small table. A wire rack next to it held all her mother’s favorite albums, which she fingered through until she picked her favorite Billie Holiday record. Carefully slipping the vinyl from its sleeve, she put it on the machine and set the needle in place.

  About to turn back to return to the kitchen, a framed picture caught her eye where it sat on the mantel. Grabbing it, she brought it down to study the young faces grinning back at her, caught in an eternal burst of laughter. She remembered precisely where they were when that picture was taken, and she remembered precisely what it was that Lysette had said to make her laugh right as the picture was snapped.