I stopped at the store and bought whole milk instead of skim, and got regular coffee instead of decaffeinated. I forgot the yogurt entirely. My mother helped me unload the bag when I got home, and when she saw what I had done I expected to get a lecture on absentmindedness and paying attention to what I was doing. But she put everything away in silence, glancing at me when she was finished. “Cory, is something wrong?” she asked. “Is everything all right at school?”
Everything was never all right at school, but that wasn’t what was bothering me. I knew that she meant well, but I just couldn’t tell her about Tom. She disapproved of strangers, and would not understand my strong feelings for a boy I’d just met. And the misgivings I had about him were so vague and undefined that I could never put them into words. What would I say? That I couldn’t understand why he didn’t ask me for my phone number or try to set up a date? It sounded ridiculous. I’d only seen him twice. But the disquiet remained and made me tense and abstracted for the next couple of days.
* * *
I dressed with special care on Wednesday night, trying on and discarding several outfits until settling on jeans and a cornflower blue blouse that matched my eyes. There was little that could be done with my hair; it was perfectly straight and fell in an uninterrupted line to my shoulders. I stared at myself in the mirror and wondered what Tom thought of me.
I was pretty enough, I suppose, or so my mother and various other relatives constantly told me. My problem was not physical attributes but mental attitude. To put it bluntly, I had no confidence with boys. Whenever a likely candidate expressed an interest I either clammed up entirely or babbled nonsense until I was forced to stop in embarrassment. Gina Fusco’s casual self assurance eluded me; past experience had left me totally unprepared for my instant rapport with Tom. And I very much feared to lose what I had found.
Tom did not show on Wednesday, or Friday, or Saturday. I stopped asking if anyone had come in to see me at the agency because I could tell that people were feeling sorry for me. By the time the weekend came I was so depressed that I tried to back out of a slumber party at Linda’s. Gina and a few of the other popular girls were going to be there, and I couldn’t face the talk of boys and who liked this one or that one. The one I liked apparently did not like me.
Linda, as I expected, was having none of it. “What do you mean, you can’t come?” she demanded. “You’re not sick, are you?”
“No.” I had just gotten back from work on Saturday afternoon, and she had stopped off to pick up a cot we were lending her for the party.
“Then what’s the matter?”
“I just don’t feel like it, that’s all.”
She was struggling to fold the cot, and banged her shin. “Ow! I’ll bet I know what the problem is. You haven’t heard from that guy, right?”
I tossed Stella a biscuit. She snatched it out of the air and ran with it to her corner. “Right. And I don’t want to talk about it.”
This, as I should have known, was the wrong thing to say. Linda immediately turned into the Grand Inquisitor, pulling out a chair opposite me at the kitchen table and sitting on it. She leaned forward and stared at me.
“You haven’t seen him since Monday?”
“You know I haven’t.”
“And he hasn’t called you.”
“He doesn’t have my number, Lin. I told you that.”
“Hmm.” She bit her lip. “So you haven’t heard from him.”
I sighed. “Correct, Linda. That’s the general idea.”
She considered this. “He didn’t ask you out the last time you saw him.”
Why was she repeating everything? I had told her he didn’t at least five times. “No, he didn’t.”
She brightened. “Maybe he’s too poor.”
“To go to the movies? Nobody’s too poor for the 99¢ movie in Morrisville,” I said disgustedly.
She spread her hands. “I only said it because you told me his clothes were old and beat up. Give me a break here.”
“Linda,” I said patiently, “it doesn’t cost anything to walk down the street. I asked him to walk me home, and he said he couldn’t. And I haven’t seen him since.”
Linda gave Stella, who had returned and was whining at her feet, another biscuit. “Maybe he’s the sole support of seven brothers and sisters and had to get back to mind them.”
Linda had just done a report on immigrant families in the New York garment district during the early 1900s and had taken the matter very much to heart. “I don’t think that’s it, Lin.”
She gave up. “Look, come to my house tonight. It will give you something to do; it’s better than sitting here alone brooding about it.”
My mother was going out, and I really wasn’t looking forward to staring at the television set. Maybe I’d be able to stand Gina and company after all.
“Okay,” I said. “What time should I be there?”
“Come around eight. And bring potato chips or something, whatever you can. My mother wouldn’t let me buy too much.”
Linda’s mother believed that junk food was contributing to the downfall of teenage America. A snack at her house consisted of cottage cheese and carrot curls. This was a stigma Linda sought earnestly to overcome.
“I’ve got pretzels and two bags of cheese puffs,” I said.
Linda beamed. “Great. Help me wrestle this thing to the door, will you?”
We shoved the cot out onto the porch, and Linda’s brother put it in the car when he came to pick her up. I waved goodbye as the car pulled out of the driveway, wondering how I was going to get through the night.
* * *
Linda’s party wasn’t too bad. Gina brought her cousin with her, and the girl, whose name was Michelle, turned out to be pretty nice. While everybody was talking in the den, listening to Gina’s tales of social success, we went upstairs to one of the empty bedrooms. Linda had two sisters away at college, and their room was in the attic. Michelle told me about her school, which was a private academy for girls. It sounded like a concentration camp. They all wore uniforms and had rules that put Alcatraz to shame. I thanked my lucky stars for Delaware Valley High, something I thought I would never do, and asked Michelle to call me the next time she came to visit Gina. She said that she would.
Sunday my mother’s friend Mrs. Lafferty came for a visit, so I went to my room and pretended to do homework. Mrs. Lafferty had a boy my age, a total creep, and every time she saw me she was struck by the notion that I should get together with her son. I had found that the best way to handle this was to stay out of sight. Jim Lafferty’s idea of a good time was to fill balloons with water and drop them on people from a height, a practice I had outgrown by the age of five. He also found firecrackers and cherry bombs particularly amusing. He was an advanced case of arrested development, and I spent the day in hiding to avoid another cozy suggestion from his mother.
I sleepwalked through school on Monday, and hadn’t much hope for Monday night. If Tom had been sincere about his interest in me he would have shown before this. I could only imagine what the competition must be for a guy like him, and I was certain that he was besieged by hordes of teenage girls, all of them resembling the models on the covers of magazines. I didn’t bother to change, wearing the same clothes I’d worn to school but adding a sweater to combat the night chill. My feet dragged through the fallen leaves on the way to the agency. The night was moonless and still.
Things were hectic when I arrived, as they had been since the previous week. I tried to entertain a yodeling toddler while his mother looked at multiple listing books, but to no avail. The coffee pot went on the blink, producing nothing but rusty water, and Agnes sent me out to the diner for coffee. When I got back the place had settled down somewhat; mother and child had vanished, to everyone’s eternal gratitude, and I spent the next hour answering the phone. It was nine o’clock before it stopped ringing. Agnes and Alice Glass looked whipped, and Agnes left early without explanation. Alice put her feet up on her desk and sipped tepi
d coffee from a styrofoam cup, making notes on index cards. I prowled restlessly around the room, killing time until I too could leave.
I kept thinking about the door Tom had shown me, and the balcony at the back of the mill. It had been on my mind all evening, but I had not had a chance to go out there. Now I walked soundlessly past Alice, watching to see if she looked up. She remained absorbed, scribbling intently. For some reason I couldn’t explain to myself, I didn’t want anyone else to know about that door.
I went to the back room and pushed aside the filing cabinet, pausing to listen for movement from Alice. There was none. I unlocked the door stealthily and slipped outside, closing it noiselessly behind me.
It was very dark. A cold breeze blew in from the river, stirring the waters of the canal. I shivered and wrapped my arms about my torso.
In seconds I sensed that I was not alone. I turned my head, and my heart stopped as I saw a dim figure detach itself from the shadows. Then suddenly, joyfully, I knew who it must be.
“Cory,” Tom said.
I gave a glad cry and rushed into his arms.
I clung to him desperately, giving way to sobs. I knew that I was making a fool of myself but I couldn’t stop.
“Don’t cry,” he said soothingly, pushing my disordered hair back from my face. “I’m here, don’t cry.”
“I didn’t think you would be back,” I mumbled, my face pressed against his shoulder. “I waited, and looked for you, but you didn’t come.”
He held me off at arm’s length, trying to see my face. I could barely discern his features in the gloom.
“Cory, listen to me. I’m going to tell you something, and I never want you to doubt it again.”
I was silent, waiting.
“I will always be back,” he said firmly. “Unless I tell you otherwise. I can’t say when, and I know the uncertainty is difficult for you, but I want you to understand that I will come to you whenever I can, as often as I can. Do you believe me?”
“I believe you,” I answered softly, and I did.
“All right,” he responded, pulling me close again. “Now I don’t want you to worry about that any more.”
“I won’t.”
“Good.” He was quiet for a little while, holding me close. Then he said, “Cory, I know that you have a lot of questions, and I realize a number of things must seem strange to you. I’m going to ask you to trust me and try to forget everything else. Do you think you can do that?”
“I’ll try.”
“That’s my girl.” He kissed my forehead and tightened his grip, shielding me from the rising wind.
“Tom,” I said, “let’s go inside. It’s getting too cold out here.”
He stiffened. “No.”
“What’s the matter?”
“That woman is in there.”
“Alice? She’s okay. I’ll introduce you to her.”
“No, Cory. You said that you would try to understand.”
Understand what? Was he shy? He seemed to be alarmed, almost afraid, and I couldn’t fathom it.
“Go in if you’re cold,” he added. “I’ll join you after she’s gone.”
I wanted to stay with him, but my teeth were chattering.
“She’ll be leaving in a few minutes,” I said. “Won’t you freeze out here?”
“I don’t feel it the way you do,” he answered. “Now go on before she starts looking for you.”
“I’ll try to get rid of her early,” I promised. “I can’t stay after nine-thirty myself.”
“All right,” Tom said. “Get going.”
I left him on the balcony and went back inside, putting the cabinet back where it had been. I tiptoed in to find Alice. She was as I had left her, still writing.
She looked up at my approach. “What happened to you?” she asked. “Where’d you go?”
“I was outside,” I said vaguely.
She glanced at me curiously, but didn’t comment.
“Alice, why don’t you go?” I asked. “You’ve had a busy night. I’ll lock up.”
I could see that she was tempted. “I’m supposed to be with you until nine-thirty. These are your supervised hours.”
“I know that,” I said impatiently. “But I won’t tell if you won’t. What can happen in twenty minutes? Go on home and relax.”
She didn’t need much convincing. She was packed up and on her way out in record time. I waved her on her way with relief, and heard the sound of her departing car fade into the distance.
I turned to get Tom, and found him standing behind me. I jumped, startled.
“I was just coming for you,” I said. “You must read minds.”
“Something like that,” he answered, and pulled me into his arms.
Chapter 3
I stayed with Tom until ten o’clock. I would have chanced it for a while longer but I was afraid that someone might see the light on and stop to investigate. I locked up while Tom watched me in tense silence. It was getting harder to leave him each time.
He walked me outside as he had done before and waited as I put my keys in my purse. I glanced up at him. He looked so sad.
“I wish we could go out someplace together,” I said wistfully.
“I wish we could too.” He lifted my chin with the tip of his forefinger. “If you had your choice,” he asked, “where would you like to go?”
I thought about it. “To Lake Afton. I’d like to show you the ducks again.”
He smiled. “That would be nice.”
I looked nervously around at the dim, silent parking lot. “Tom, I have to go. I’ll see you again?”
He nodded. “That’s a promise.”
“Good night.”
“Good night, Tom.” I walked away with a light heart, not looking back.
If he’d said I would see him again, I knew I would.
The walk home was brisk and cold. Leaves as dry as parchment fluttered from the trees with every breeze, and pinpoint stars glittered in the dark sky. I jammed my hands into my pockets and shivered, picking up my pace. By the time I reached the house my face was whipped with windburn and I was almost running.
Stella attacked me as I came through the door. I fended off her advances and got on my knees to scratch her ears, an attention that calmed her down and made her eyes slit with pleasure. She danced at my heels as I went through the house looking for my mother.
I found her in the den, where she was watching television. Or rather, staring at the screen. She wasn’t watching anything. Her expression was tight lipped, angry.
“Your father will be in town this weekend for a visit,” she said flatly. “He would like to see you.”
“Did he call?”
“No, Cory, the Archangel Gabriel was just here, and he told me your father was on his way.”
Oh, no. Sarcasm was a sure sign that I was in for trouble. “Is it all right with you if I see him?”
She picked up her book of crossword puzzles. “That’s up to you,” she replied without inflection.
“I’m asking what you think, Mom,” I said patiently.
“What I think doesn’t matter,” she answered, erasing something on the page viciously.
I could feel the tug-of-war begin. These conversations always went nowhere.
“I’m tired,” I said noncommittally. “I’m going up to bed. I’ll think about it and let you know.”
She nodded stiffly. The conversation was over.
* * *
In my room the moonlight streamed through the window and made a pool of pale luminescence on the rug. Stella jumped up on the bed and watched me as I changed into my nightgown. As soon as I lifted the quilt to get into bed, she darted under the covers and curled into a ball.
I thought I would not be able to sleep, but it wasn’t long before I was dreaming. I knew I was dreaming because I was having a conversation with my grandmother, who’d been dead for six months. We were downstairs in the kitchen, drinking tea. Grandma was wearing her old blue chenille r
obe, the one she said reminded her of Bette Davis movies. She was telling me, as she often did, that I had to become more independent and do things for myself. My mother never appreciated her giving me this advice.
There was an abrupt transition, and the next thing I knew I was downtown, across the street from the park. The atmosphere was the same as during my walk home earlier: crisp and chilly, with an autumn wind gusting through the trees. The ducks glided on the lake in majestic silence, looking more like their elegant cousins, the swans of the famous ballet. I couldn’t see the surrounding houses or anything beyond the trees too well. The area was enclosed in mist, so that I could focus only on the water and the grassy bank above it.
I seemed to be alone, but I didn’t feel alone. I sensed a friendly presence nearby, and as I looked into the distance a figure detached itself from a tree. It was Tom.
I knew it was Tom even though I could hardly make out his shape in the gloom. His height and posture gave him away. He just stood quietly and watched me as I came toward him.
When I got close enough, he held out his arms and I ran into them.
In the night around me, I knew that it was cold rather than felt the chill. I was apart from it, safe and protected. Tom held me for a while and then turned me against his shoulder, taking my hand. We walked down to the water’s edge and sat, as if by prior agreement. There wasn’t a sound from the park or the street, no traffic noise or echo of voices. Everything possessed the unique stillness that exists only in a dream. I curled up next to Tom and closed my eyes.
Something disturbed me, and I stirred, almost waking. I was confused. Was I home in bed, or down in the park with Tom? The scene shifted and we were no longer by the lake but walking up the street toward my house. Tom stopped at the foot of the steps and turned me to face him. He bent to kiss me.
Stella was barking. I started, blinking. Now I was out on the street by the lawn, barefoot in my nightgown. Stella was by my side, yapping wildly, her tail wagging furiously, staring at a spot on the sidewalk.
My heart was banging against my ribs, and I could actually feel the blood pounding in my temples. I grabbed Stella and tried to shush her. She licked my face quickly, in apology, and then struggled loose again, circling back to the porch steps. I shivered, wrapping my arms around my torso, and glanced around at the empty yard. I was more puzzled than afraid. I was on familiar territory, after all, but what was I doing out here in the middle of the night?
Season of Mists (Young Adult Paranormal Romance) (Cupid's First Strike - Teen Love In The 80's) Page 4