by Ann Herrick
"I’ll be here."
While Pres showered I cleared off the kitchen table, took the play papers up to my room, gathered up my French book and notes, and spread them out on the dining room table. I thought it was slightly more conducive to "amour" than the kitchen.
I opened my book to the Chapter I was supposed to study. The words I saw, however, were not those on the page. Instead, the phrase Je t’aime, Je t’aime flashed before my eyes. What a beautiful way to say I love you. I pictured myself in a sylvan setting, curled up on a blanket with Pres. He was whispering in my ear, "Je t’aime, Rebecca. Je t’aime."
"This is what you’re working on?" Pres grabbed the book from my hands and sat down across from me, jolting me out of my daydream. "Okay, conjugate the verb manger, to eat."
For the next thirty minutes I conjugated verbs, described pencils on tables in French, and worked my way through about fifty vocabulary words. I didn’t have time to admire Pres’s gorgeous blue-green eyes or devote myself to even a moment of complete adoration. Pres was a stern taskmaster. For a couple of seconds I felt as if I were studying with Bill.
"Well, I hope it helped." Pres snapped the book shut and handed it to me. "I’ve got to get back to my chemistry."
I was left sitting at the dining room table, staring at my French book and wondering what other method I could use to try to captivate Pres. Studying French together had totally fizzled.
During the next two weeks I was too busy working on an outline for the 350th Celebration play to contemplate any schemes to entrance Pres. Saturdays Josh and I spent most of the day together slaving away. He even dropped by a couple of weeknights to help. I liked working with him. No matter how things were going, he could always make me laugh. That made my huge task much easier.
One evening after I’d done my homework and had devoted as much time to the play as I cared to that particular night, I decided to relax and watch a little TV. But no sooner had I settled comfortably on the sofa, than Bill reminded me about his rule. "Remember, no television on school nights, Rebecca."
Anger bubbled inside me. I shot a glance at Mom, but she was so engrossed in a book that I don’t think she even heard Bill. I stormed out of the room.
I ran to my desk and grabbed the list of arguments I’d saved to use when the "no TV" situation came up again. I was about to charge back downstairs, brandishing my list, but a tiny voice of reason made me stop. Given the mood I was in, I’d only wind up in a shouting match with Bill. I thought he was being arbitrary and unfair, but I wasn’t ready to confront him. Not alone, not full blast. I should talk to Mom, but she probably wouldn’t want to say or do anything to cause conflict so early in her new marriage. Pres, it seemed, was content to live by his father’s rules.
It was a sticky situation. If Mom wasn’t prepared to contradict Bill, my chances to make him see reason were small. I had to live with him too, after all. Maybe I should wait until we’d all settled in before I talked to Mom about her trying to influence Bill.
I crumpled up my list and threw it in the wastebasket. Then I sneaked a peek at the picture I’d drawn of Bill looking like a dragon. That gave me some satisfaction.
Time, I decided, was what we all needed to get used to each other’s ways. In time I’d figure out the best way to deal with Bill. I’d learn how to talk to Mom about Bill without flying off the handle.
Of course, time was all I needed to get Pres to see me in a more-than-sisterly light. Yes, things would work themselves out in the proper fashion, if only I’d let them…
Chapter Nine
By the time I finished the outline for the 350th Celebration play, I was proud of the work I’d done. That is, the work Josh and I had done. I was really grateful for his help. He’d surprised me with his enthusiasm for research, enthusiasm I’d thought he reserved mainly for sports.
After I handed the outline to Bill I excused myself so he could read it without me hovering over his shoulder. I got busy in the yard, cutting forsythia and lilacs for a bouquet.
"Those flowers are almost as pretty as you are."
I whirled around. It was only Josh.
"You startled me," I scolded him. "What are you doing here anyway? We finished the outline yesterday."
"Can’t I come over and just visit?" Josh faked a hurt look, then grinned. "Actually, I couldn’t wait to hear the verdict on our work."
"Bill’s reading it now." I cut a white lilac and sniffed it. "Mmmm, smell this," I said, holding the flower under Josh’s nose.
"Ah." Josh smelled the lilac. Then he sniffed my neck, smacked his lips and rubbed his hands together. "Almost as nice as you, my sweet." He clicked his teeth and pretended to bite my neck.
"Watch out or I’ll get my silver stake."
"You wouldn’t do that to me." Josh dropped to his knees, clutching his heart. "Not to innocent me."
"Well ... not if you behave yourself," I said, laughing. "Come help me arrange these flowers in a vase. Bill should finish reading the outline soon."
After we’d arranged the flowers in a crystal vase and placed them on the dining room table, Bill came in with the outline in his hand.
"This is good," he said. "It’s a bit long. I’ll have to cut it. The Patch Man can be deleted, for example. But overall, it’s quite good."
The meager words of praise passed right through me. "But, Bill," I protested, "the Patch Man was one of the most interesting characters in Sandy Cove."
"I agree," Bill said. "He’d deserve an article in the newspaper maybe, but he didn’t really contribute anything significant to Sandy Cove’s history. He’s a fascinating footnote, but that’s all."
"A fascinating footnote?" I dug my fingernails into the palms of my hands. I could feel my anger rising, but I couldn’t tell if I was angry more on my own account, or Josh’s. After all, he was the one who’d found out about the Patch Man in the first place. I’d considered it his special contribution. "But—"
"I see what you mean," Josh interrupted, speaking to Bill. "The Patch Man is interesting, but not vital." He rested his hand on my shoulder, as if to absorb some of my anger.
I relaxed a little when Josh defended Bill’s decision. If it didn’t bother Josh, maybe I shouldn’t let it bother me. But I wanted more than just facts included in Sandy Cove’s history. I wanted to capture its heart and soul too.
"Well, I’ve got to grade some essays." Bill handed the outline back to me. "I’m looking forward to seeing your first draft. Keep up the good work."
"Arg!" I wailed after Bill left the room. "We just finished slaving over the outline and now he wants a first draft."
"Take it easy," Josh said. "You knew a first draft was next. You’ll have me to help you."
"Would you?" I clutched his arm. "Do you have time to help me today?"
"I’ll make time."
"Great!" I exclaimed. "We’ll set up everything in the kitchen."
Just as we got everything organized on the kitchen table, Pres drifted in.
"It’s ten o’clock and he’s just making an appearance," Josh said. "At least he’s dressed."
"Since when did you stop sleeping in on Saturday?" Pres asked as he peeled a banana.
"Since I found a reason for getting up early."
Before we could grill Josh on just what that reason was, Mom and Gramma popped in with eager looks on their faces. Mom said, "Have you checked your application status for Yale recently? I've heard that some people are starting to hear."
"I'll bet it would be good news," Gramma said, a twinkle in her eye.
While I realized it kind of put Pres on the spot, I hoped he'd check. I was also sure it would be good news..
"Um …." Pres, hesitated, then pulled out his smartphone, but I didn't see his thumbs moving.
"Aren’t you going to check it?" Josh asked. For once he didn’t joke. It was obvious this meant a lot to Pres.
Pres shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I should wait."
"Well, if you think that's best," Mom said.
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"But I bet it's good news," Gramma said again. "And we'd all love to hear it."
Pres stared at his phone.
We all waited, not saying anything, barely breathing.
Finally, I saw Pres's thumbs move. His eyes widened. He gasped. "I got in!" he yelled. "They’ve offered me a scholarship!"
"Pres, that’s wonderful." Mom hugged him and Josh jumped up and slapped him on the back.
"Congratulations, Pres," Gramma said, shaking Pres’s hand and giving him a big hug.
"I’ll get Bill," Mom said. "Isn’t it wonderful, Rebecca? Both our boys getting into the schools they wanted—and so close to home."
My heart raced. It was a great opportunity for me to hug Pres. Too bad it wasn't in private, but I couldn’t have everything. I walked over to Pres and embraced him.
"Congratulations." I said.
Pres returned my hug. My heart raced in circles around my chest. This could be the start of—
"Thanks." Pres danced me around the kitchen.
If only I could shut out everything and everyone except the two of us.
"Come on in, Celeste," Josh shouted.
I hadn’t even noticed the knock at the door.
"Is this a party?" Celeste asked.
"Sort of." Josh pulled Pres away from me and propelled him toward Celeste. "Congratulate the man. He just got accepted at Yale."
"Pres!" Celeste shrieked as she hugged him. "Congratulations."
"News spreads quickly, doesn’t it?" Bill stood in the doorway, grinning. He had his arm wrapped around Mom as he watched the celebrating.
He held out a hand to Pres. They grasped hands, then Bill gave Pres a big hug. "Congratulations, son."
"Thanks, Dad."
It was great seeing everyone so happy, but I still wished I’d been alone with Pres when he’d gotten the good news. Maybe my congratulatory hug could have led to something more … intimate.
"Hey," Celeste said to me, "I almost forgot in all the excitement. I’m on my way to the Hair Conditioner for a trim. I thought maybe you’d like to come along, and then we could go to lunch and do some window shopping."
"Thanks," I said, "but I’ve got to work on a script for the play." Too bad, I thought. I hadn’t seen enough of Celeste lately. But, who wants to leave when maybe I could work in another congratulatory hug or two.
"Rebecca," Celeste said. "All work and no play makes for a dull girl."
"Don’t worry," Josh said. "I’m helping her .…"
"... And things are never dull when you’re around," Celeste said.
Josh grinned.
"I can leave then, knowing you’re in such good hands, Rebecca." Celeste laughed.
"Wait," Pres said. "I’m headed in that direction. Want a lift, Celeste?"
"Sure. Thanks."
Why couldn’t Pres have said something sooner? I would have gone if I’d known he was going to give us a ride.
After they took off, Josh and I started working on the script. I had trouble concentrating. I kept thinking how great it had been to be in Pres’s arms, and how happy I was that he’d be going to Yale. I could see us going for long walks around campus on crisp autumn days, holding hands and kicking leaves on the sidewalk.
"I said, ‘aren’t you ready for a break?’" Josh’s voice jolted me out of my daydream.
"Sorry. Uh, I guess I was lost in Sandy Cove’s past." I felt the heat of a blush creeping up my cheeks and I wondered if Josh knew what I’d really been thinking about.
Ordinarily I could share my feelings with him, but his friendship with Pres ruled out confiding in him now. He might let something slip, and I didn’t want Pres to know how much I liked him until it was obvious that he felt exactly the same way about me.
"Well, Sandy Cove’s past is an interesting place to be," Josh said, "until it’s time to eat."
"Oh?"
"I’d rather raid the refrigerator than have to go out and shoot my lunch."
"I get it," I said, finally noticing the sparkle in Josh’s eyes. "You’re hungry."
We had a quick lunch, then worked on the script again. At one point Bill came in to check on our progress.
"Hmmm. This looks interesting so far." He rubbed his chin. "Of course, you have a lot of work ahead of you, a lot of rewrites. You’ll want this play to be the best it can be."
"I-I’ll try." I gulped.
"I know you will," Bill said. "Well, I’ll get out of your way now."
After Bill left, I said, "I think he’s worried I’m going to destroy his reputation as a director."
"Relax." Josh patted my hand. "I think he meant just what he said. He wants you to do your best, for the sake of the play and for you."
"Think so?"
"Absolutely."
That reassured me enough to get back to work, though I still had some doubts.
I didn’t notice until my butt started to hurt just how long we’d been at it. It was almost five o’clock. I stood up. "No wonder my, uh, posterior aches. We’ve been sitting here for hours."
"Hmmm?" Josh stared at me, a dreamy look on his face.
"Wake up." I snapped my fingers and he blinked. "I think we’ve worked on this long enough for one day."
"I enjoyed it."
"Me too," I said. "But enough is enough."
"You’re right. We need to relax. Why don’t we—"
Just then Pres came in.
"Where have you been all day?" Josh asked.
"I met Celeste for lunch after her haircut, and then we had banana splits at the new ice cream shop. After that we went to the Pet Palace and Celeste practically had to drag me out. There were these kittens, and one kept coming up to me, trying to catch my finger."
"Sounds like you painted the town red," Josh joked.
I’d missed out on a fun afternoon with Pres, I thought, biting my lip. At least he’d been with Celeste and not some predatory female eager to get her hooks into him. I was glad he could be friends with a girl, and that he didn’t feel he had to flirt with every girl in school the way it sometimes seemed that Josh did. Pres was a gentleman, not a player.
"I’m not sure Sandy Cove has the qualifications for being painted red." Pres grinned. "But I was in the mood to celebrate, so I made do with what was available. I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you stay for supper, Josh? We can celebrate our acceptances to the colleges of our choice. I’ll make pizza."
Josh hesitated. He looked from Pres to me and back to Pres again. "Thanks, but no. Three’s a crowd. Besides, I’m kind of worn out. Guess I’m not used to so much paperwork."
A twinge of guilt pricked at me—I was glad Josh turned down Pres’s invitation. I wanted to be alone with Pres. Josh looked tired, anyway, the way he was slumped in his chair.
After Josh left I hung around in the kitchen while Pres made pizza. Finally I sort of sidled up to him as he sifted flour, and I squeezed his arm. The tips of my fingers tingled from touching him. "Congratulations again on getting into Yale."
Pres turned to look at me with those hypnotic blue-green eyes of his. "Thanks," he said. "I’m really happy about it. And Dad is proud."
I wondered if I dared congratulate Pres with a kiss, or if that would be overdoing it. I should’ve done it when we first heard the good news, then it would have been more spontaneous. Whatever else I did, I was at least going to keep the conversation going with him. "Yale has a great law school, too, doesn’t it?"
"Oh, yeah," Pres said as he kneaded the dough. "They also have a good drama department and the Yale Repertory Theater."
"Drama?"
Pres laughed. "You don’t have to look so shocked. I was merely stating a fact."
"I’m not shocked."
Pres must have been joking. His jokes just weren’t obvious like Josh’s were, that was all. Pres was too serious to consider acting as a career. Everyone knew Pres was going to be a lawyer. A dedicated, compassionate lawyer. Everyone knew that ….
He must have been joking.
Chapter Te
n
I sat at the end of the front row in the school theater and read along in my script as Pres and Celeste rehearsed their parts as James and Alta Peck. They were perfect in the roles, just as I’d intended.
What I couldn’t understand was how Bill could have chosen Alicia Johnson as Celeste’s understudy. She was more than a bit scatterbrained for the part. He must have been influenced by the fact that her build and long black hair were similar to Celeste’s. I’d written a specific description of Alta into the script, hoping that would clinch the role for Celeste.
"Where do you suppose I’ll ever find a Revolutionary War cannon?" Josh whispered as he slipped into the seat next to me.
"You’re resourceful, you’ll think of something," I said. "Besides, you didn’t have to volunteer to do the props."
"I wanted to have something to do with the play after investing all that time on the script. You’re assistant director, so that was out. I’ll bet you have an in with the director."
"Shhh!" I elbowed Josh to be quiet.
I wasn’t really sure why Bill wanted me as his assistant, but I knew it wasn’t to disturb rehearsals by talking. Celeste would never say "I told you so," but she’d been right about how long it might take for me to form a close relationship with Bill.
I wasn’t getting very far with Pres either. He was nice enough, but in such a brotherly way that he might as well be an actual sibling. I’d seen more of Josh than Pres in the past few weeks, since Josh had spent almost every free moment he had helping me with the script. He’d been great at bolstering me whenever I needed it, especially whenever Bill suggested cuts in the script. Josh accepted them better than I did, and was able to point out that the cuts helped the pace. I, unfortunately, had a tendency to think that my words were carved in stone.
I had to remind myself that Bill probably had my best interests at heart. Just this morning he’d given me what seemed remotely like a compliment. Mom had come in with the mail, waving a post card.
"This is for you, Rebecca!"
I wondered why she was so excited until I saw the return address. "It’s from the magazine where I submitted my play for fourth graders. They’re holding it for further consideration."