He pushed himself to his feet, stepped across the center walkway and sank down beside her, close but not touching her. She didn’t move, as much as part of her wanted to move closer into his arms. The other part, telling her to move away, was a little stronger. She could not give in to his much too charming wiles.
Miles picked up her hand, held it firmly but gently in his, then kissed her fingers while looking into her eyes. “You are beautiful when you are annoyed.”
She didn’t move. She was annoyed with him. With his casual, carefree attitude, his certainty that she was his for the taking.
“And even more beautiful when you aren’t.” He pulled her closer, his arm around her shoulders.
She could not stop herself or him. She raised her face for his kiss, and responded fully to it.
He closed his arms around her, pulled her closer, enveloping her as he always did, filling her with a desire she hadn’t known before, awakening hidden parts of her heart. She let herself be drawn into his charming promises, even if she knew better.
“Ah,” he whispered smugly. “You are still alive. This Barry guy hasn’t stolen you from me after all.”
He had broken the spell again and she pulled away, too angry to speak.
He sat straighter again but kept her hand in his. “Has he?”
She couldn’t meet his eyes. She had seen his desire there, true if only momentary. She wasn’t so sure of her own. “That really isn’t any of your business, is it?”
“Very much my business.”
“And why is that?”
“You’re my Bonny Thea. Not his.”
She knew it was cruel, but she needed to hurt him as he hurt her. And she wanted to be sure. “I’ve agreed to go out with him again.”
“Have you, now?”
“He asked and I said yes.”
Miles sat back against the cushions, but kept her hand in his. “How long have you known him?”
Longer than I’ve known you. “Since last spring. He rented a unit at the self-storage where I work.”
“And I suppose you had secret meetings in there? Romantic trysts?”
His sarcasm was too bitter. It shredded the last vestiges of the spell he had cast, and she pulled her hand free. “Of course not. What do you think I am?”
He smiled gently, returned to his musical voice that usually enthralled her. “I think you are a lovely woman, one I want to see much more of. I’m sorry if I offended you, but seeing you leave with him . . .” he let his voice trail off while he met her eyes again. “It was more than I could take right then. I had come to find you.”
She relented. She had to. “That is one of the problems, Miles. You only come looking for me when you want me.”
He caught her hand again and pulled her a little closer, gently. “That’s how I am.”
“And it is very annoying.” But he was much too close, his lips too inviting, and her desire too overwhelming. She gave in, in spite of it all.
“Lips like cherry wine,” he said softly, and then, withdrawing slightly, “or is it sherry wine? I can never remember.”
“Does it matter?”
“Not to me.” His fingers tightened on her arms. “You matter to me.”
But her annoyance returned, her inability to trust him, to know what he really thought. “Do I, Miles? Really?”
He didn’t answer for a long moment and avoided her eyes. “You do.”
“But how much?”
“Isn’t it enough that I care? That I am here with you?”
She said truthfully, “No. I don’t know what you really think. You are all poetry and music. I need more than that.”
“That is what I am.” He pushed himself to his feet, picked up his harmonica from the opposite bench and turned back toward her. “You are my Bonny Thea. Remember that when you go out with what’s-his-name. He can’t offer you what I can.”
She sat still, watching him stride across the back lawn toward the oak grove where he usually parked his car. She was too stunned to breathe, her heart too frozen to beat properly. He can’t really have left me, can he? Why did I say all of those things?
But what she had said was true. No matter how she felt when he held her, what kind of spell he cast, how charming he was, she didn’t know him and she couldn’t trust him with her heart. She got up slowly and walked home, no longer wanting to walk through the garden. She needed a good cup of tea.
CONVERSATION WITH CONNIE
“Miles stopped in yesterday,” Connie told Althea when they met for supper on Tuesday in Connie’s bright cheerful kitchen, as they frequently did. Otherwise, Connie said, Althea would eat alone, frequently just snack, and she needed a few good meals. “He seemed to be sad about something. Not his usual bubbly self.” She intimated that Althea knew why and cared.
“He tends to be a little moody.” Althea didn’t want to go beyond that. “And sometimes he’s so ‘up’ I wonder if he’s on something.” She knew he wasn’t. His highs were brought on by music and his natural exuberance. That was part of the problem, but she certainly wouldn’t describe him as bubbly. Effervescent might occasionally describe him, and that was part of her attraction.
Connie laughed. “What did you say to him the last time you saw him?” She paused, eyeing Althea quizzically. “Whenever that was.” She was definitely fishing. Althea decided to enlighten her, up to a point.
“Sunday afternoon. He comes around sometimes when I’ve closed the stand.” She recalled that conversation a little ruefully, but was sticking by what she had said. Who I go out with is my business, especially since Miles has never asked. “Sometimes he plays for me. He’s quite good on a lot of different instruments. Mostly old-fashioned ones.”
“That’s what Glo said.”
“Glo?”
Connie returned to tending her smothered pork chops, which she was serving with candied carrots, two of Althea’s favorites. “Oh, she stops at the stand every once in a while. Being neighborly, she says. She’s quite nice. Asks about preparing some of the vegetables she’s unfamiliar with, like rutabagas. Last week she asked if I knew how to make Harvard beets. I haven’t made those in ages. Ed doesn’t care for them, likes his plain with butter and salt.”
Althea asked, because she had to, “Miles asks about me?”
Connie laughed. “Always, but sort of in passing, not directly. Usually it’s just a how’s she doing? Or you work too many long hours, or what a nice stand you have. Nothing personal, of course.” She glanced at Althea again. “But he’s interested. He can’t hide it. And I don’t think he really tries.” She paused again. “How about you? You don’t talk about him.”
Althea considered. Just how much do I want to say? As an older relative, Connie assumed a right to be a little inquisitive. Althea didn’t mind, having no mother close by to talk to, and Connie had always been there to listen to her and answer her questions, offer help with problems, for her to lean on. “He’s interesting, different from anyone I’ve met before,” she said carefully. “He’s very good looking, and certainly has charm. He has a nice voice, and I like to listen to him play the old music.”
“Have you invited him in to see your collection, Emily’s pile of music? Try your old organ? Or doesn’t he do piano, just guitars and a flute?”
“No. We haven’t gotten that far. We’ve never talked about it, so I don’t know about the piano. I guess most musicians can at least pick out a tune. Part of their training or something.”
Connie regarded her silently for a long moment. “And he fixed the pump for your watering system. Don’t forget that. Ed was very impressed then and hasn’t changed his mind.”
Althea laughed. Ed did not have a high opinion of most of the young men he encountered, thought them impractical and not too well educated in daily living. “Ho
w could I? And I think I’ve thanked him profusely enough for doing that. He refused any payment, you know.” And, she admitted to herself, she had thoroughly enjoyed paying the price he exacted, but she couldn’t talk about that, not even to Connie. His ardent kisses had aroused too many feelings and suggested avenues she wasn’t sure she wanted to follow. Not yet.
Connie returned to meal preparations. “Ed said he saw the two of you sitting in the rose arbor. Apparently not talking business.”
Althea laughed. That would depend on what you call business. Miles was serious enough. “You have to admit he has a certain charm.”
“He does, and he’s very good looking. Movie star kind.” She handed a stack of plates to Althea and said, “Finish setting the table, will you? Ed’ll be along in a minute.”
Althea stood and accepted the dishes.
“And now there’s Barry back again. What are going to do about that?”
“Do about what?”
“About Miles. You have been seeing him, if only kind of casually.”
Althea didn’t know and didn’t want to think about it. Miles left her too confused. “I’m going out with Barry again.”
Connie didn’t comment, keeping her attention on moving the pork chops to a platter and spooning the apple-onion-brown sugar sauce over them. They smelled heavenly, making Althea realize just how hungry she was.
Althea released a long breath, deciding what to say. “Miles has never asked me out. He’s never said anything to me at all.” But he has shown me, in many ways.
“That I don’t believe. You have too many stars in your eyes. And you are too practical to just dream where there is no basis.”
Althea couldn’t say anything. She did occasionally think about it. What it might be like to be with Miles. She just couldn’t really picture it.
“Just be careful, honey.” Connie put the platter on the counter and reached for the pot of potatoes to mash. “I don’t want you to be hurt again, like you were by that high school jock you mooned over for so long. I hoped you’d get over that when you went to college.” She paused again. “I’m afraid Miles is like that, just out for what he can get, and will never give back. Just leave when he’s gotten what he wants.”
She had that thought as well, and discarded it. Miles isn’t like that. I can feel he isn’t. But how can I know? She heard Ed at the back entry and finished putting the plates in place, then found the glassware in the cupboard. “Miles is interesting, fun to be with. He likes my kind of music, and plays it for me.”
“And he’s suggesting that you make some music together?”
That was an old-fashioned concept, and she smiled at it. That might be fun, but he is so much more talented than I am. “Not yet.” She wondered if he ever would, and what she would say or do if he did. “I don’t know how he views other musicians.”
Connie said drily, “I wasn’t talking about playing the piano.”
Althea knew that, and didn’t comment. She didn’t have music in mind, and Miles had only hinted in that direction.
Ed came in and she turned her attention to him. There were garden things to discuss, work to be laid out. A schedule to be set for fall. It was, after all, the end of September. She firmly put Miles out of her mind.
But later, when she had returned home, done her own chores, and settled down to watch a favorite sitcom, she wondered. Will Miles come back? And just how much do I want him to? She didn’t know, but he bothered her dreams singing songs she did not recall when she awoke.
WITH BARRY AGAIN
It had been a week of unsettled weather, cloudy with a few showers, threatening storms that never materialized, even though they had produced lightning, then heat and thick unseasonable haze. For Althea, it was unsettling in numerous other ways as well. It was a bad week at the storage company with one of the part-time people on vacation and one of the two full-time people out with a sprained knee, the result of a novice trying too complicated rock climbing. It would be another week before he came back, and in the meantime, she had to either do his work or put it on hold until someone came back. She didn’t like either solution, since Rob, the full-time man, was basically the janitor, and not doing the work on time could create a mess. There was, however, little she could do. It’s not really my problem. Let Stan handle it. He’s the boss. But that really wasn’t a solution, either. Some things just have to be faced and taken care of. Now.
Things weren’t a great deal better at home, and she didn’t want to deal with those problems, either. Ed was away on an annual fishing trip with several longtime friends. They would be out west somewhere in the Rockies for a week. Althea hoped he was having a good time and looked forward to some of the trout, but it left her with more work to do. Connie took advantage of his absence to clean closets.
“I don’t need him telling me what I should keep,” she said practically. “I don’t see him throwing away any of his horde.”
And what of mine should I keep or throw away? She ignored the thought. “That’s probably something I should do. One of these days.” But she was plagued by the problem of Miles and Barry.
Ed’s absence left her shorthanded. Granted, delaying cultivation a week did no harm, but vegetables needed to be gathered every evening. She hired Connie’s nephew Jonas for the week, mostly to do the carrying.
She did not see Miles, and did not expect to. According to Connie, he rarely came to the stand when she wasn’t there. She had agreed to go out with Barry again on Friday, and she would keep that date in spite of her misgivings. She was starting to regret that decision, but did not see any graceful way to cancel. I might as well go and get it all finished, over and done with. But do I really want to do that? He’s kind of a nice guy, dancing with him is fun, and it might lead to something better. But better than what?
She wasn’t sure about that, either. She didn’t trust Miles’ intentions and was unsure of her own. When she was with him, she was totally under the spell of his charm, wanting him to hold her, sing to her, make her feel as she had never felt before. Away from him, his unpredictable arrogance was galling. And what is he doing during the week, when he isn’t here? Does he have other girls out there somewhere? That thought was heart-wrenching. She knew he did not have a regular nine-to-five job. Am I only his Thursday girl? Here on the weekends when he feels like it? When that other girl isn’t available? And what, really, does he do for work and where does he do it?
He had told her part of that, but not in depth. Is that what Glo had tried to warn her about? That Miles was simply carefree, and didn’t want to get involved in any kind of relationship. He was just out to pursue, not catch? That thought was galling in another way. Aren’t I as desirable as he says I am? He calls me his Thea, but am I?
In spite of her sober consideration, her practical mind was telling her to back off, to not get involved with him. Her heart was saying something else. She wanted his arms around her, holding her close, but could not say so. At least not to Miles. She didn’t like saying it to herself. He did not meet any of her long-held fantasies, except for his devastatingly charming good looks. And his music. Always his music. And his poetry whispered in her ear.
Connie was no help, either. “It’s your problem,” she said shortly, her disapproval plain, when Althea had mentioned the date on Friday. “If you want to string two men along, that’s up to you. I’d say one at a time. It’s certainly easier that way.”
She didn’t think she was stringing anyone along since she wasn’t committed to either one of them, but Connie was right. Why give Barry hope when there was none? What if he really was hoping for a chance for a future with her, not just looking for a dance partner when he wanted one? She didn’t want to think about that, either.
Well, wait until Friday and see what happens. At least I should get a good dinner and a fun night out.
~ ~ ~
Althea spent most of Friday outdoors, finally finding time and inclination to mow the strip of grass between the gardens and the fieldstone walls that marked the edge of the cultivated part of her land. It was a space just wide enough for Ed’s tractor and trailer, and one which she liked to keep clear. She noted, and told herself firmly, that sometime this fall she would have to do some brush cutting. She wanted her walls to be clear of the encroaching juniper and a variety of hardwood saplings. She had left a couple of feet of soil at the base for a flower garden, spring bulbs, day lilies, and a variety of wildflowers that came on their own. Those volunteers, field daisies, black-eyed susans, bright pink musk mallows, orange and yellow hawkweeds, pale yellow shrubby cinquefoils, and the pastel hues of dame rockets, provided a cheerful splash of color along the wall until late summer. She did have to occasionally hoe them out of the beets and carrots, but keeping them along the wall was worth it.
She would leave the recurring problem of poison ivy to Ed – he wasn’t as allergic to it as she was – and she didn’t like spraying it. She disliked any use of herbicides. They tended to be indiscriminate, and she loved plants of all kinds, including what most people called weeds when they were growing in the wrong place. Without spraying, the poison ivy had to be pulled by hand and carefully disposed of. Too bad it was such a pretty vine, shiny green and then bright red in the fall.
Althea liked mowing, seeing the completed swath behind her and the neat edge of the tilled garden, but it gave her much too much time to think about distressing subjects. Like Miles. And would he be around this weekend? Wandering in casually as if he owned the place and her? So sure that she would be there waiting for him when he did come, ready and willing to fall into his arms, as she knew she was. And what would she say to him if he did show up? Demand some answers? Say she needed to know his intentions? Why not just enjoy him, his charm, and his music? Did she have to have more than that? She knew she did.
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