Jumping Puddles

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Jumping Puddles Page 7

by Rachael Brownell


  “Perceptive aren’t we, Charlie?”

  “What happened? It seemed like things were going pretty well. She was nice.” I try to sound sad about his break up. Maybe, too sad. He glances in my direction and flashes me a knowing grin.

  “She is nice. It just didn’t work out.”

  “That’s all you’re going to say about it?”

  “Yep. Nothing more to tell.”

  I’m not buying it, but I don’t think he cares. There’s more to the story, and I’ll find out one way or another. It won’t be today, though, unless…

  “You know, you never did tell me why she reminded you of me. Care to fill me in now?”

  “You didn’t figure it out for yourself?”

  “I wouldn’t be asking if I had.”

  “Have you looked in the mirror lately, Charlie?”

  “Every morning. Why?”

  “Imagine if your hair was brown instead of blond.”

  I picture myself with brown hair and see a bit of a resemblance. “Okay.”

  “Now, on top of that, picture yourself in the dress she was wearing at the Christmas party.”

  “I wouldn’t be caught dead in that dress. Correction. I would be dead if Scott caught me in that dress.”

  “Humor me, will ya?”

  “Fine,” I reply, disgusted at the thought of me in Emily’s short dress.

  I attempt to imagine what I would look like, my hair down and flowing along my shoulder, a chestnut shade of brown to match Emily’s. I see it. I see the resemblance. Aside from the fact I have two inches on her, and at most ten pounds, someone might mistake us at a glance.

  “So we look similar if you distort reality. That can’t be it.”

  “It’s not all of it, but that’s what drew me to her at first.”

  Letting his words sink in, the car goes silent. When he left here at the end of the summer he was angry with me, I was angry with him, and we weren’t speaking. He met Emily, and she was my substitute. It was his way of seeing me every day in his own screwed up kind of way. I want to be flattered, but I’m not. I’m annoyed. He could have just come home or called me, and everything would have been fine. We wouldn’t have wasted so much time apart, mad at each other. There wouldn’t have been a need for Emily in his life.

  “That’s messed up. You know that, right?”

  “Yeah, but I couldn’t help it. I met her when I was missing you, and it just sort of happened. Then I started to notice there were these little things she would do that reminded me of you. I think, after a while, I kept her around so it felt like you were there.”

  “Okay, I’m going to ask this, but I’m not sure I really want to know the answer. What changed things?”

  “You. I saw you over Christmas, and once we were back in Santa Barbara, those same things that reminded me of you were a constant reminder she wasn’t you. I didn’t want Emily. I wanted you.”

  My heart stops beating completely for at least a few seconds. I replay his words over and over again in my mind, certain I didn’t hear him right. He wants me. Finally, he wants me.

  “Did you hear what I said, Charlie?”

  “Yeah. Just trying to process everything. I need a minute.”

  “Please, don’t tell me you changed your mind.” Suddenly Blake is in full-on freak-out mode. He pulls the car to the side of the road and throws it in park.

  “I haven’t changed my mind, Blake. I just need to process your proclamation. Just like you needed a moment to process mine. Why can we never be on the same page at the same time?”

  “Okay. Process. Do your thing, and I’ll drive.”

  After wiping the sweat from his palms down the front of his jeans, Blake maneuvers the car back onto the road. I watch as tall buildings come into view and then the Bay Bridge.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I wanted to take you somewhere special, so I made reservations at a place across the Bay. I hope you’re in the mood for spaghetti and meatballs.”

  Squinting my eyes at him, Blake grins at me before focusing back on the road. Alice knew more than she let on. I have a feeling the two of them have been planning this for a while.

  The tiny Italian restaurant is perfect. An array of scents floats on the breeze as we walk up to the front door. After being seated at a table, Blake orders our drinks and an appetizer. It has a fancy name, something I’ve never heard of before, but I’m excited to try it.

  We keep the conversation light over dinner. Blake finds a way to touch my hand or brush his foot against mine every once in a while. His touch causes me to shiver and goosebumps to appear on my arms. My body is on sensation overload by the time we’re headed back across the bridge.

  Pulling into Blake’s driveway, I’m sad the night has to end. I was hoping to have more time to talk about important things, like us. I wanted to avoid the conversation earlier because I wasn’t sure how I felt about everything. I know I love him, and I want to try, for real this time. I just don’t know how to say the words without sounding stupid.

  “Want to come in and watch a movie?” Blake asks as we approach my front steps.

  “I’ll have to ask Alice if it’s okay. Give me a second.” I take the steps two at a time and burst through the front door with more enthusiasm than necessary.

  Alice is sitting in the living room, reading a book. She smiles up at me as I walk in, a curious look on her face. “How was dinner?”

  “It was good. Blake was wondering if it was okay if we watched a movie at his place.”

  Looking up at the clock, Alice nods her head in agreement. “Make sure you come back right after the movie, though.”

  “I will. Thanks, Alice.”

  I shuffle through Blake’s movie selection twice, making suggestions, before we finally manage to agree on one. Judging by the fact we’re watching Pretty Woman, I have a feeling Blake gave in because it’s my birthday. Either that or he was sick of debating about which movie we should watch and why.

  “Come up here,” he suggests, patting the spot next to him on the bed.

  Crawling up on the bed, I place a pillow against his headboard and settle in just as Richard Gere drives away in his lawyer’s car. Blake drapes his arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer to him, his hand dangerously close to my breast. I stare at it limply hanging there for a moment. My attention is drawn away by his other hand on my chin, turning my face to meet his.

  Without warning, Blake’s lips meet mine. There’s a sense of urgency, a passion behind this kiss I’ve never felt from Blake before. Our first kiss was amazing. This kiss is out of this world. After a few minutes, Blake’s lips begin to wander, traveling down my chin and grazing against my neck.

  A moan escapes me, causing Blake to smile against my skin. I smile, too. As nervous as I am right now, knowing we are alone in his room, in his house, I’m perfectly comfortable, as well. I need to know what he expects, though. I need to mentally prepare for this moment if this is going to be that kind of a moment.

  I’ve thought about it before. Many times. A lot more recently. I think seeing him with Emily, interrupting whatever they were doing in this room, triggered something inside me. As attracted to Blake as I’ve always been, as in love with him as I’ve fallen over the past two years, I’ve never once had the urge to jump his bones. Not until recently. Right now, that’s all I can think about.

  The way he’s making my body feel… it’s as if I’m craving him, and the only way to satisfy that craving is to give in to my desires and give myself over to him. It’ll be my first time, but I’m sure it won’t be his. That could be a good or bad thing. Maybe it won’t be as awkward since he’ll know what he’s doing, what he wants, and what he likes. I’ll just play along and pretend.

  “Blake,” I say, breathless. “I need to know where this is going. What are we doing here?”

  “What do you want to do, Charlie? It’s not about me today. I’ve wanted this for longer than I care to say. I can wait as long as you want me to.�


  “And if I don’t want to wait?”

  His lips stop moving, releasing the sweet spot they were caressing on my neck, and his eyes find mine. I watch as he looks for any signs of doubt. He won’t find any. This is what I want. I can’t imagine a better time, place, or person to share this experience with.

  “Then we don’t wait.”

  “Then we don’t wait,” I repeat.

  Unsure of what to do next, I bend down and capture Blake’s lips with mine, hoping to give him the encouragement he needs. My plan works perfectly. Blake slowly begins to remove his clothing, followed by mine. I take a moment to memorize every inch of his body before he turns the TV off, our only source of light, and covers my body with his own.

  Lying next to Blake, wrapped in his arms, skin to skin, is an amazing feeling. What just happened between us was almost as amazing. I took sex ed class, so I knew it would be uncomfortable the first time. I was ready for the “twinge” of pain they talked about. I wasn’t prepared for the pressure, the immense pain, and the ultimate pleasure. Those are things they don’t tell you in class.

  The second time was better than the first. It didn’t last nearly as long, but it didn’t matter. I was able to enjoy every second of it, and this is where I landed. Blake is snoring lightly behind me. I’m staring at the time on his alarm clock, wondering how I’m going to explain to Alice and Scott why I’m hours past my curfew. I’ve never lied to them before, and I’m certain they are going to see right through me.

  I know I need to go home, but this is where I want to be right now. Maybe if I wait until morning, I can tell them we fell asleep. It will be a partial truth. Blake is sleeping, and if I allow myself, I could join him at any moment. My body is exhausted, but my mind is working overtime. I have so many questions.

  What happens now? He has to go back to school eventually, probably in the next day or so. I’ll still be here until the end of the year. We’re both finally on the same page. We want this to work, but how is that going to be possible? There has to be a way. I’ll think of a way.

  Waking up next to Blake is almost as wonderful as falling asleep in his arms. His lips brush mine, kissing me fully awake. I turn to face him and find he’s freshly showered, dressed, and grinning at me from ear to ear. What time did he wake up, and why did he let me sleep?

  “Alice called your phone a few minutes ago. You might want to head home soon. Or stay here. I can tell her you were abducted by aliens last night. I’ll take you back to Santa Barbara with me, and no one will ever know.”

  “Right. Because she’ll buy that coming from you.”

  “Seriously, though. You may want to at least check in with her. I’m sure she’s worried.”

  “I know, but I’m not ready to leave you yet. Can’t we just stay locked in your room until you leave?” I stick out my bottom lip at him, causing him to chuckle.

  “That sounds like a great plan except my plane leaves in a few hours. I have to head to the airport soon.”

  “What? You only came back for the night?”

  “It’s the only flight back that wasn’t booked. I tried to leave tomorrow, but nothing was available. I’m sorry, Charlie. I was hoping to make it an entire weekend adventure.”

  “I understand. Will you at least walk me home? If you’re there, they may be more lenient when it comes to punishment for missing curfew.”

  “I doubt that, but I wasn’t planning on letting you walk yourself home.”

  “Such a gentleman,” I say, pushing against his chest as I sit up and reach for my t-shirt.

  “Not really. I was hoping for one more kiss before I left.”

  Of course, he was. I was hoping for the same thing.

  “CHARLOTTE! THERE’S SOMEONE here to speak with you,” Alice hollers up the stairs.

  “Be right down.”

  It’s been two weeks since my birthday, and I’m finally off phone restrictions as of this morning. I was about to call Blake when Alice called for me. I can’t imagine who might be here. I know for a fact Blake can’t come home this weekend. He’s working on a group project for one of his classes. He tried to convince Alice and Scott to let me visit him, but they were still angry with me when he asked.

  Rounding the corner into the dining room, I find Alice sitting at the table across from a pudgy, older man. They’re both sipping coffee, sitting in silence. Alice looks nervous, though she’s hiding it rather well. If I didn’t know her, I’d never be able to tell.

  “Hello,” I say, extending my hand across the table to the man.

  “Ms. Hill. It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.” His accent is southern and strong. “My name is Charles Emeritt.”

  Why does that name sound familiar? I feel like I should know it like maybe I’ve heard it before, but I have no idea why.

  “It’s nice to meet you. Have we met before?”

  “I don’t believe we have. I represented your parents, rest their souls. I was their attorney.” The mention of my parents causes me to inhale sharply. I take a seat and wait for him to continue. He’s obviously traveled far to find me. “I also represented your Aunt.”

  “Okayyyy,” I say, drawing out the word. “Why are you here, then?”

  Looking to Alice for permission before continuing, “Well, Ms. Hill, I represent their estates. Now that you are legally an adult, those assets have been passed on to you, therefore, I represent you, as well, if you like.”

  “What do you mean their estates?”

  “Your parents had a will. I have a copy if you’d like to read it,” he replies, presenting a briefcase and opening it.

  “No. Can you just tell me what it says?”

  “Of course. In the event of their demise, your parents left everything they had to you. Since you were a child when they passed, they left you in the care of your aunt. She and I were in contact over the years, more so after she found out she was sick. She had me write her will, as well, to ensure her estate would be yours. The fact you were a minor meant you were not allowed access to anything at the time. Now that you’re eighteen, I am here to ensure you are aware of what you have and help you decide what you would like to do next.”

  Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and hold it in for a second. Talking about my parents and my aunt are something I try to avoid. The pain of those memories is still real to me. I relive that pain every day, no matter what’s going on around me. The most random thing can trigger a memory. Some days, it can be as simple as the way Alice hugs me or a song on the radio. Most often it’ll happen when it rains, which is does a lot here. I realize he doesn’t understand, so I take a moment and compose myself.

  “Okay, I’m sorry. As you were saying, I now have my own estate. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, Miss. A rather large estate.”

  “Large?”

  “Yes. Your parents made it clear your childhood home in Georgia was to never be sold. They also made sure their business was never sold. I’ve been managing the upkeep of both since their passing. There is also the matter of life insurance, stocks, and other assets. On top of that, your Aunt was terrific at managing her money. She had a life insurance policy as well as a substantial savings account. All of these things now belong to you.”

  I reach for Alice’s hand, and she meets me halfway. Squeezing gently for support, I manage to hold my tears at bay for the moment. “Mine?”

  “After we sign some paperwork, yes.”

  “May I ask a question, Charlotte?” My attention drawn to Alice, I see she’s hesitant. I’m not sure why; she’s my family now. If I didn’t want her to know any of this, I wouldn’t have allowed her to be here once I figured out what was going on.

  “Of course.”

  “Mr. Emeritt, how did you find Charlotte?”

  “It took some work, Mrs. Waterman. I’ve been looking for her for a few months. It wasn’t until after her birthday when her records were updated in the foster system I was able to find her.”

  “It wa
s my understanding, as long as she was in foster care her records were sealed.”

  “Yes, ma’am. However, when she became of age, all her records became publicly accessible. She’s still part of the foster care system if I read the information correctly. That’s why I asked you to stay while I spoke with her, but she’s legally an adult.”

  Alice nods, accepting his answer, but I can tell she’s not happy with it. What does it matter if my records are sealed or not? I couldn’t care less. If anyone asks me about my parents, I tell them I’m a foster kid. It doesn’t make me more or less of a person. I’m as well adjusted as I can be for my situation. I got lucky. I have a great home and great foster parents. I’m not ashamed of my life or my situation. I hope Alice isn’t, either.

  “Besides their home and restaurant, what else is now mine?”

  “Well, there’s a great deal of money. You won’t have any issues paying for college or supporting yourself while attending.”

  College. Something I hadn’t given much thought to because I never planned on asking the Waterman’s to pay for it, and I knew I’d never be able to afford it on my own. Since my grades are stellar, I could always apply for late admission or skip fall semester and start in the spring. I would need to find a place to live in the meantime. It doesn’t sound like I have to worry too much about finances. At least not for a few years.

  “This is a lot to process. My brain is pulling me in a million different directions. Do you have something I can look at and maybe we can talk again in a day or two?”

  “Sure. I’ll be here until Tuesday afternoon. How about I come by Monday evening after dinner, and we can talk some more?”

  “Thank you, that sounds great.”

  After handing me a folder, Mr. Emeritt leaves Alice and me to sort through everything on our own. I pull out one piece of paper at a time, read it, and then pass it off to Alice to inspect.

  My parents were not only amazing people, from what I remember, but smart as hell. Their will was specific. They wrote it shortly after I was born and had it amended every year on their anniversary.

  The house—mine. It’s been cleaned weekly for the past twelve years. Mr. Emeritt has even included recent pictures. It looks freshly painted and the landscaping is beautiful.

 

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