Another Summer

by Georgia Bockoven

  “My friend needs a ride into town on Thursday.”

  Paul looked at her. “That’s it?”

  “You can’t tell anyone where you take her, and you have to take me and another friend, too.” She waited. “And we have to ask Andrew to give us a couple of hours off.”

  “Okay.”

  Again she waited. When he didn’t say anything more, she said, “You don’t want to know where we’re going?”

  “I figure you’ll tell me when you’re ready. And if you don’t, then it’s none of my business.”

  She really didn’t want to like him any more than she already did, but he kept doing things like this and chipping away at her resolve. “We’re going to have to lie to Andrew and Cheryl. Well, maybe not lie, but not tell the whole truth.” After several seconds she added, “You don’t have to do the lying, I’ll take care of that. But you do have to go along with what I say.” She looked at him. “Can you do that?”

  “What are you going to say?”

  “That you’re taking us shopping to buy something for Cheryl to thank her for bringing us here.”

  “Isn’t she going to wonder what’s going on when you come home empty-handed?”

  “We’re not. I figured you and I can pick something up while Karen and Deanna are at the clinic.”

  “Have you thought about what you’re going to say when Andrew asks why we’re taking time off to go on Thursday instead of Sunday or Monday when we’d have the whole day off?”

  “It can’t be helped. The clinic is closed Mondays.”

  “I take it that means you don’t have an answer?”

  “Not yet. But I will.”

  “Why don’t I tell him I have to take care of a mix-up with my schedule for next semester and that you and your friends are going with me to look at the campus? Everyone knows UC Santa Cruz isn’t like anyplace else, so it won’t seem strange that you and your friends want to check it out.”

  She stared at him. “You’d do that?”

  “I figure you wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”

  She owed him an explanation, especially for involving him in a lie. “My friend is pregnant.”

  He let out a long breath. “I see.”

  “Five months, and she hasn’t seen a doctor.”

  “I take it she hasn’t told her folks.”

  “She doesn’t have any real parents. Right now she’s living with the people who have been her foster parents since eighth grade and she’s afraid they’re going to throw her out when she tells them she’s pregnant. They’re not getting paid to keep her anymore because she’s going to turn nineteen before she graduates high school. There’s no reason they’d go out of their way for her now.” She didn’t expect him to understand, it wasn’t the kind of thing that happened to the people he knew.

  “There’s one thing you haven’t thought of. Andrew and Cheryl are going to ask you about the campus.”

  “I can fake it. I’ve been to Berkeley. Lots of times.” She’d only been there twice, once on a field trip with her advanced English class and once because she wanted to see the buildings she’d missed the first time. A stupid subterfuge, but a matter of pride.

  “They’re nothing alike.”

  “So you can tell me what it’s like.”

  “It’s not the same. Why don’t I just take you there after we get off work tonight? You can call Cheryl and tell her we’re going for hamburgers.”

  It sounded too much like a date. Still, what choice did she have? “When should I tell her I’ll be back?”

  “Make it seven. That will give us plenty of time.” He thought a minute. “Better make it eight. We’ll have to stop someplace to eat or she’ll wonder why you’re hungry when you get home.”

  PAUL WAS RIGHT. UC SANTA CRUZ WAS nothing like Berkeley. Maria felt comfortable in this atmosphere, not like an outsider pretending she had a right to be there. At Berkeley she’d been in awe of everything from the students to the enormous classrooms. No one was in a rush here. Some students even smiled, and a couple greeted her as if she belonged.

  The libraries took her breath away and made her hands and mind itch to touch and feel and learn. She wasn’t intimidated by the classrooms and could easily imagine herself sliding into a seat and waiting for a lecture to begin. She loved the quiet of the forest and the spectacular views of the ocean and the way the buildings looked as if they blended into their surroundings.

  She’d fought coming, and she fought leaving, asking to see the dorms and cafeteria and even the administration buildings. They walked up hills and through the forest where they were rained on by moisture-laden pines. At one point she stopped under a redwood tree too tall for her to see to the top, closed her eyes, and stood perfectly still.

  “Listen,” she told Paul, her voice filled with wonder.

  “That’s a woodpecker,” he said.

  “No–listen to the quiet.” Several moments passed before she added, “No cars, no radios, no people. I’ve never heard anything so beautiful.”

  He leaned back against the rough, fragrant tree trunk and studied her. “You belong here, you know.”

  “Yeah, right. Like that’s something you would know about me.”

  “So what are you saying, that you think you’re going to do better at Berkeley?”

  It took a second for her to figure out what he was talking about. Because she’d told him she’d visited Berkeley, he thought she was planning to go to school there when she finally got around to going. She would have laughed but was afraid she might cry. He was the only person she knew who could make such a dumb mistake.

  “We should get going.” She started up the path before he had a chance to answer.

  “It really is beautiful here,” she told Paul, as they drove down the hill away from the campus. “I wish it were possible.” She didn’t realize she’d said the second sentence out loud until he responded.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I could never afford to go to a place like this.”

  “After what happened last time I brought it up, I’m almost afraid to say this. I started to tell you that first day that you don’t need to afford it. This is part of the California system. All you need are decent grades and it’s free–as long as your family income is low enough.”

  “Trust me, that’s not a problem. But it doesn’t matter. Even if you did know what you were talking about, I still couldn’t come here.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t work for play money the way you do. My family needs what I make. I have to get my brother and sisters through school before it’s my turn. And that’s at least twelve years away.”

  “Why can’t you work and go to school? Isn’t that what you’re doing now?”

  He really had no idea what her life was like or how much effort she had put in to get where she was. And she would never tell him. Pride was a foolish road, but she’d been on it so long she didn’t know how to get off. “You ask a lot of questions that are none of your business.”

  “How am I supposed to know where you draw the line?” he snapped. He turned into a residential section of the city and drove past houses with manicured lawns and expensive cars in the driveways. Neither of them said anything until the silence became a third passenger that took up more space than the two of them together.

  Maria was the first to give in. “You don’t have to stop anywhere for us to eat. I’m not hungry.”

  “What if I am?”

  “Then stop. I can wait in the car.”

  He gave her a dirty look. “You know you can be a real pain in the ass.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “Oh, so it’s not just me who thinks so.”

  “Get in line.” She was confused and frustrated and angry. Three weeks ago she’d known exactly where she was headed and why. Her life might not have been what she would have chosen, but at least it had direction. Now she had dreams, wishes, desires–none of them practical or even remotely possible. “
Okay, I’ll have a hamburger with you. Just don’t make a big thing out of it.”

  “Wow. What a favor.”

  “I’ll make you a deal.” She was tired of fighting him, tired of fighting her feelings for him.

  “I can hardly wait.”

  “I won’t give you a hard time … if you don’t make me.”

  He actually laughed. “I can live with that.”

  He took her to Carpos in Soquel and talked her into ordering a loganberry milk shake to go with her hamburger and fries.

  “Well?” he asked after her first taste, a smug smile in place.

  She couldn’t fake it. “This is sooo good.”

  “Wait till you try the fries.”

  She did. “Not as good as the milk shake, but close.”

  “I probably shouldn’t tell you this–”

  “But you’re going to anyway.”

  “Do you want to hear it or not?”

  “How can I know until you tell me?”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” He popped a fry in his mouth. “I overheard Alfonso talking about you to Andrew this morning.”

  Alfonso was the toughest boss she’d ever had. She put her hamburger down to listen. “What did he say?”

  “That you were a natural, and Andrew should do whatever it took to keep you.” Until then high praise from Alfonso had been a rare grunt of approval as he walked by a table where she was working. “He really said that?” “He said other stuff, too, but I don’t want you getting a big head.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like how you could spot a flat that was planted wrong before it started showing signs of stress.”

  “That’s easy.”

  “And how you knew it was time to water by the change in the leaves.”

  “That’s easy, too.”

  “It’s not easy for me.”

  She shrugged. “All you have to do is look. The leaves change color when they start to dry out.”

  He smiled. “You and Andrew are the only ones who see it.”

  “You’re kidding.” But she could see that he wasn’t. “It’s so obvious.”

  “Every time he leaves for more than a week, the plants suffer because there’s no one left who can read them the way he does. Too much or too little water, and it can set them back months. Instead of a plant setting its first bloom a year out of the flask, it could take two.” He stopped to take a bite of hamburger. “Don’t be surprised if Andrew tries to talk you into moving down here when you graduate.”

  “I can’t,” she said automatically. “There’s no way I could live here when my family is in Oakland.”

  “You want me to tell him?”

  “Then he would know you told me.”

  “I’d find a way that he wouldn’t have to know.” Finished with his own fries, he reached over to take one of hers.

  “Are you going to keep working when school starts?”

  “I’ll cut back to a couple of days a week–until Andrew tells me he doesn’t need me anymore.”

  “You don’t need the money. Why bother?”

  “He bailed me out of trouble a couple of years ago. I figure I owe him.”

  “What kind of trouble?” The question made him uncomfortable. At first she thought he wasn’t going to answer.

  Finally, reluctantly, he said, “My mom had moved down here to be with Peter, and I had to come with her because my dad had moved into a studio apartment. I was pissed because I had to change schools my senior year and stole some stuff from a grocery store thinking she would send me back if I got in trouble. Andrew was there when it happened. The owner was a friend of his and wanted to make an example out of me because he’d been losing so much stuff to shoplifters. Andrew talked him into dropping the charges if I agreed to come to work for him.”

  Second chances didn’t come so easily in her neighborhood. “You were lucky.”

  “I didn’t think so at the time. My dad threw a fit. He said my mom was too busy with Peter to pay any attention to me and that I was going to wind up in jail. He wanted to ship me off to boarding school. My mom talked him into giving me another chance. I lost my car, my freedom, and my girlfriend that summer.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Almost eighteen.”

  “What did you miss the most?”

  He grinned. “No contest, the car. It was a midnight blue 1985 Mustang. Some guy in San Jose bought it and totaled it three days later. It still makes me sick thinking about it.”

  “I love old Mustangs.”

  “What else do you love?” He took another fry.

  She thought about it. “Spring days, long walks on the beach, curling up with a good book, and drinking champagne in front of a roaring fire.”

  The smile he gave her started at the corner of his mouth and ended with a knowing wink. “Got those single ads down pat, I see.”

  She really liked that he was quick and funny and didn’t mind being teased. “I love the way rain makes everything look better than it really is and, I’ll deny it if you tell Cheryl, I’m beginning to love old movies. I like chocolate milk, not the kind you make yourself, but the thick kind that comes in a carton. And popcorn and Junior Mints eaten together.”

  “How do you do that?”

  “Take a handful of popcorn and put it in your mouth then pop in a Junior Mint.” When he made a face, she added, “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

  “What else?”

  “Long skirts and boots. Stephen King and Harry Potter and Nora Roberts. Christmas and my birthday.” She saw his hand moving toward her plate and picked up a fry and handed it to him. “What about you?”

  “I’m partial to fog. Not the kind we get around here in the summer, but the valley fog where I grew up in Woodland. Sometimes it’s so thick you can’t see the white line in the middle of the road. I don’t have a favorite candy–I’ll eat just about anything except the M&Ms with the crispy stuff in the middle.”

  “Holidays?”

  “I don’t care about my birthday, but the Fourth of July ranks right up there with Christmas. The only thing I read anymore is stuff for school, but I used to like King and McCaffery.” He smiled. “As for long skirts and boots, they’re okay, but short skirts and boots are better.”

  “Movies?”

  “Anything with Chris and nothing with subtitles.”

  “He’s nice.” The next came harder. “I can’t remember if I thanked you for taking me to his party, but I should have.”

  “You did. But it’s nice to hear it again.”

  She glanced at the clock on the wall over the salad bar. “We should be going,” she said reluctantly. “I don’t want to push things with Cheryl.”

  He stood and waited for her to come around the table. “How does your being here with her work? Is she a friend or what?”

  “She’s one of the people who help run an after-school group where Deanna and Karen and I volunteer a couple of times a month. We look out for the kids who come by, organize games, things like that. We used to go there when we were kids, and now we all have sisters or brothers who do.”

  “That will look good on your application.”

  “What application?”

  “To college.” He held up his hand to stop her before she could say anything. “When you decide to go.”

  “They want to know things like that? I thought they just looked at grades.”

  “We need to talk about this–for the future. Should you change your mind and decide you want to go to college.” He put his arm around her shoulder as they walked to the car.

  He opened the door but she looked at him before she got in. “Why are you doing this?”

  “What?”

  “Pushing me to go to college? Why do you care what I do? Another week and a half and I’m out of here and we never see each other again.”

  “How do you know? Maybe Andrew will talk you into coming back next summer.”

  Her first reaction was anger. He was doing i
t to her again, giving her something to dream about. But then she looked into his eyes and saw that he really cared. He wanted her to come back. Impulsively, she leaned forward and kissed him, quick and clean.

  Stunned, it took him a second to respond. “Is that a yes, or a maybe?”

  She smiled. “I don’t know.”

  He put his hands on the sides of her head and brought her forward for another kiss. This time it was long and slow and deliberate. “That was my vote. Do I need to explain?”

  She shook her head, for the moment not caring that she was traveling a road she’d sworn she would not take. She had ten days to enjoy the ride. If the destination was a broken heart, at least she would always have the memory of the journey.

  7

  ANDREW DIDN’T SEE CHERYL SITTING ON his front step until he pulled into the driveway. She had on white shorts and a red tube top that set off her newly acquired tan and made her skin seem to glow. She had a bottle of wine in one hand and a bouquet of nasturtiums in the other. He parked his car and met her on the walkway. “I was hoping I got the message right.”

  “It’s just you and me for two whole hours. Paul took the girls to town to do some shopping and to show them the campus.”

  While he’d been invited to dinner twice and had joined Cheryl and the girls on the beach a couple of times, the two of them hadn’t had ten minutes alone the entire three weeks she’d been there. “Just two hours, huh?”

  “I’m sorry. I really thought we’d have more time while I was here.”

  He took her in his arms for a quick hug. “Me too.”

  She looked up at him, “You’ve been wonderful about all this.”

  “You really think so?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Then I have to tell you, it’s worked out exactly as I’d planned.”

  She laughed. “How clever you are to have arranged for me to bring the girls without my knowing you were involved.”

  “I’m good. What can I say?”

  “How about–come in, Cheryl, I have some fantastic cheese and crackers to go with that wine you brought.”

  “That would be a lie, I’m down to my last can of beans and quart of milk, but I’m sure if we dig around long enough we’ll come up with something.”