She cocked her head to the side. “I think these are very pretty.” She lowered her voice. “Clearly, you’re the best one here, Katie. These other people must be embarrassed next to you.”
“Thanks, Grammy.” She wanted to go look at a hanging installation, so I wheeled her over, then came back to stand nervously with an indirect eyeline at my paintings. No one was looking at them. Lindy couldn’t come because she had a catering job, but, of course, Mason was supposed to be there, and then we were going out later. And not having sex.
“Hi.”
“Sweet Lord!” I spun around and landed in Davis’ chest. He put his hands under my elbows. I just thought of the word sex, and then—
“I thought I’d come.”
Come. Oh, my. My mind was in the gutter.
“Please don’t tell me that you drove yourself over here,” I said, willing the color to fade out of my cheeks. He was still holding my arms, so that wasn’t really happening.
“I got a car.” He looked at me for a moment. “You look pretty.”
“What?” What?
“Where’s your work?” he asked, gesturing with his chin. There was a crowd gathering, because even the arty types in our town were going to stare at Davis Blake. He still was holding me, our bodies almost touching.
I stalled. “I didn’t know you were coming. You didn’t tell me.”
Davis bent his head toward me. “Where are your paintings, chipmunk? I want to see them.”
I tilted my head to the side. “Over there.”
“Let’s go.” He put his arm around me.
“Is your knee bothering you? Where are your crutches?” I asked, trying to take some of his weight, but he just rested his big arm without leaning on me.
“I’m fine.”
We stopped in front of my paintings. More like, I froze in front of my paintings. There were three of them, a kind of triptych, and they were all of Julian. In high school, when we met, strong and sure, running in the sun; sitting outside in a chair, rays of light gentle on his thin shoulders; and last, in bed in the half-darkness, his eyes closed, pain marring his sweet face.
I heard Davis swallow. “My God,” he said. “Katie.”
“They’re not very good,” I told him nervously. “I wish you hadn’t seen them. The shading is so bad in this one, and I had a problem with perspective, right here, and this—”
“No,” Davis said, cutting me off. “These are amazing. I’m amazed.” He stepped closer to look at the picture of Julian’s ravaged expression, and his arm slid from my shoulders.
He turned back to me and he looked different. Soft, somehow, if a face so stern and unyielding could look soft. “Katie, I…Mason.”
“Huh?” I turned and followed his eyes in the direction that he was glaring. Mason was walking towards us, smiling at me.
“Hi,” Mason said, and kissed my cheek. “Sorry I’m late. Davis.” Mason put out his had to shake, a wary look on his face. They clasped hands, and I heard the bones crack from Davis’ grip.
“Thanks for coming,” I told Mason, who yanked his hand free and flexed it.
“I wouldn’t miss it.” He shook his fingers next to his leg. “Wow. Julian!” Mason studied the picture of the running figure. “This is how I remember him.”
“I’m glad,” I told him. “It’s a good way to think of him.”
“I’m going to say hello to Louise,” Davis said abruptly, and I turned guiltily, realizing she had been forced to stare at strange, ugly weavings hanging from the ceiling for quite a while.
Mason made some more remarks about my paintings and then we walked through the rest of the exhibit, looking at the art together. It was very evident that this wasn’t Mason’s thing, but he gamely tried to be an active observer. He made me laugh at some of the comments he made, like that he thought the frames were nice, or (totally seriously), “I think that is…a cactus. Right? With gum.”
“Let’s find my grandma and put you out of your misery,” I finally told him.
“I’m enjoying this,” he said, eyebrows furrowed as he looked at the melted leaves.
“It’s ok,” I said, patting his arm. “You don’t have to like art.”
“I like your art,” he said. “I remember liking it at school. You painted all the scenery for the plays.”
“Then you starred in them,” I said. “You were such a ham.”
“I haven’t lost that.”
Davis was sitting next to my grandma, and they were both sipping sparking water. Davis looked so out of place among all the people in their floaty scarves or severely black clothes, but he seemed totally at home talking to my grandma.
“Mason Whitaker,” she called to him. “It has been a long time.”
Mason shook her hand, much more readily than he had shaken Davis’. “It’s nice to see you, Mrs. Bell.”
She asked him about his parents, and his sister, and his cousins, because of course my grandma knew everyone in town.
“Katie tells me you’re working for your father,” my grandma mentioned.
“Yes. For now.”
“No long-term plans, then?”
Mason laughed. “I’m too young for long-term plans.” She continued her subtle interrogation, finding out that he still lived at home, but he considered it easier because he liked to go away most weekends with his friends, and his mom could take care of his dog. She also discovered that he hadn’t dated anyone for longer than two months since high school and was still yearning to start things back up with his band and try to go on tour. I looked at Davis over my grandma’s head while she pumped Mason for information. He met my eyes for a long minute, then looked away. When she paused for breath, he stood up.
“My ride is here. Louise, it was nice to see you.”
“Don’t forget what I told you,” she ordered him. When I looked a question at her, she said, “We were talking about places to visit in the Upper Peninsula. He’s never been there.”
I was kind of trailing after Davis. “Gavin’s room is all ready for him. There’s a bunch of stuff for you guys to eat, and he can drive you.”
“I think we’ll be able to take care of ourselves,” he said gruffly.
“Right. Of course.” I looked away.
His big hand fell on my shoulder and squeezed a little. “See you Monday, Katie.” He mumbled something in his deep voice, but I heard it. My smile spread across my face.
“What did he say?” Grammy asked me.
“‘See you Monday,’” I answered. Chipmunk.
I wrenched my grandma away before she could get Mason under the bright lights and apply her thumb-screws to him and drove her back to Lakeside Cottage, not really beside the lake or a cottage. “Heading out with Mason?” she asked me.
“Yep.” I helped her into her room. For once, Mrs. Lusk wasn’t there, a genuine relief. As soon as I could afford it, I was getting my grammy a private room.
“He’s still a nice boy.”
“He is,” I agreed.
“A nice boy,” she said again. “A nice boy.”
I stood back, and looked at her. “Is there a reason you’re repeating that?”
“No,” she told me, eyes wide and innocent. I narrowed mine in response.
“Ok, then. I’ll talk to you later.” She was going on an excursion to Frankenmuth. “Have fun, don’t eat too much chicken.”
She kissed my cheek. “Bye, Bug. Have fun with that nice boy.”
“Grandma!”
I did have fun with that nice boy. I meant, Mason! He picked me up from my house and we went out to dinner together.
“You grandmother knows everyone in my family,” he said, and it sounded a little rueful.
“Mason, everyone knows everyone in your family. You guys are kind of famous around here. Your name is on everything. I went to Whitaker Junior High. My grandma used to teach at Whitaker Elementary.”
“I went to the private school down the road,” he mentioned, and sighed deeply.
; “Poor private school baby,” I laughed, and he smiled.
“Yeah, feeling sorry for myself coming from a wealthy, supportive family. Life is tough, huh? Getting to run the show at my age, stepping in to take over rather than working my way up for years.”
“It doesn’t sound like working at the car dealership is what you want to do though, right? For keeps?”
“No,” he answered. “But for now, it’s good. I’m good.” He didn’t look entirely happy.
Again, we went out after dinner. I ran into a girl, Kristina, whom I’d known slightly in high school. She had graduated in the same year as Julian, and she had been nice.
Now she was drunk. “Oh my God, Katie,” Kristina said loudly. “Oh my God. I saw you on TV. I didn’t know you grew up to be a Woodsmen Dame.”
“I was just filling in for someone. I was a temp Dame,” I explained.
“Huh?” She stared at me.
“I was…never mind. Yeah, a Woodsmen Dame.”
“That’s so cool. You’re so pretty!” She lifted the heavy, dark brown waves of hair off my shoulders and let them drop.
“Thank you,” I told her. “You are, too.”
“No, I mean, you’re hot.” Now she looked speculative.
“I’m here with someone,” I said, heading off this line of thinking, and I pointed at Mason, who waved back at me.
“Wait, isn’t that Mason Whitaker? But weren’t you with that guy? The one with the disease?”
I felt my face freeze up. “Yes.”
“Did you break up with him? Oh my God, the poor guy! I mean, I get why you would, but I felt so bad for him. Like, he was so sickly, like, I remember him keeling over in physics class my senior year!”
I just nodded. I remembered that day, too. I had ridden in the ambulance to the hospital with him.
“Julian passed away,” I told her.
Kristina went on as if she hadn’t heard me. “You guys were so romantic! The cutest couple, just like Romeo and Juliet. Tragic young love, right?” She reached forward to mess with my hair some more, but I stepped back out of her grasp. “But then you should have died too! Then you could have been together, forever.”
I stood up and walked away. She didn’t know what she was talking about; besides being drunk, she was also an idiot. “Wait,” Kristina was calling after me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that! I was joking!” I turned and watched her try to follow me. She fell off her stool onto the sticky floor.
I left the bar and stood outside for a minute, looking up at the night sky. “Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine...”
“Katie?”
I turned to see Mason. “Hey. I’m just getting some air.”
“Do you want to go?”
“No.” I shook my head, hard. “No, I don’t want to.” I smiled at him. Fake it till you make it. “Let’s do a shot.”
Mason visibly startled. “What? I didn’t think you even drank.”
“I’m over twenty-one.” I put my arm through his and pulled him back into the bar, on the other side from where Kristina was now drunk-crying and being comforted by her friends.
Mason, who was driving, declined to do the shot, but the rest of the people we were hanging out with stepped right in alongside me. And then right alongside me again. And then there was some dancing, and possibly some singing and another drink. By the time we were driving home, I was really wishing that I had declined as well, if not the first, for sure the second. Mason thought it was hysterical. “I’ve never seen you like this,” he kept saying, laughing his head off.
I was just hoping not to puke in his car. “Sorry,” I managed. Not really the behavior you were going for on a second date, if you wanted a third.
Mason walked me up to my front door. I managed to find my keys and got it open.
“Ok,” I said. “Steady as she goes.” Mason held out his arms but I had it. “Nope. I’m good. I got it.”
“Are you ok? If I leave you?” he asked.
“I’m not that bad. Seriously. I just don’t really do that this very often,” I explained.
“I could tell by the way you were sipping the shot. Most people drink it down all at once.”
“I can’t swallow all that liquor at one time! That’s just too much.”
Mason wiped under his eyes. He was literally crying with laughter, at me.
“No, I’m ok. Seriously.” I patted Mason’s shoulder. “Thank you again for driving me.” I patted his cheek. “You really are a nice boy.”
“Thank you. You’re very nice, yourself.” He leaned forward and I thought he was going to kiss me. No! I stepped back so fast that I tripped on my doorstep and went backwards, arms wheeling, into my living room/studio.
“Oh my God! Katie!” Mason charged in after me. “Are you ok?”
I sat on the floor, where I had fallen on my ass. Where I had propelled myself to avoid kissing Mason.
Sweet Lord. What was I doing?
Chapter 10
“Party all night, sleep all day.”
“Shut up, Lindy.”
I was really, really not in the mood. It was my first Saturday off since Woodsmen rehearsals had started at the beginning of the summer, and I was hung-over and sick. And really, really regretting the way the night had ended.
“It’s eleven, Katie. If you’re going to come…” Lindy held up my bikini and waited. When I hadn’t answered her texts and calls about coming to her parents’ house for the day, she had taken it upon herself to visit me and force the issue. I had been in bed. Lamenting and bemoaning.
“I’m coming,” I said angrily. I wasn’t angry at her. She was the one who was nice enough to invite me to a day on the lake, then to come over to make sure I got there. “Sorry.”
“Like I said, party all night…”
After a shower and some dry toast, and Lindy’s hangover cure, tomato juice with pepper, I did feel better. I put on the biggest sunglasses I could find and an equally oversized hat and was ready to go.
Lindy was looking at me curiously while she drove. “What happened to you?” she asked me. “When was the last time you ended up like this?”
I thought back. Just like the last time I had gone on a trip, the last time I had partied too hard was a distant memory. How old was I? “I don’t even know, and I’m sorry I ended up like this now. The next time someone says, hey, how about shots, and it’s me saying it? Feel free to hit me over the head with something.” Speaking of, I reached into my bag to get some aspirin.
“Shots?” Lindy started cracking up. “You can’t even do them! You take little sips and make a face the whole time.”
“That was pointed out to me last night also.” I rubbed my head. By Mason. Oh, Lord. Mason.
He had hauled me off the floor of my house and I had yanked myself free, completely embarrassed and now with a sore butt. “I’m good! I’m good!” I’d had on repeat. He had left after assuring himself that this was the case. I could tell by the way he was looking at me that he knew perfectly well why I had jerked away from him. I hadn’t wanted to kiss him. I hadn’t wanted his mouth anywhere near the vicinity of mine.
But why? Mason was awesome. Smart, funny. Cute, very cute. Steadily employed, nice family. In fact, he was kind of ideal. So what had I done when he’d tried to kiss me?
Reverted into being Nutty and done a pratfall into my house. Ugh! I buried my face in my hands.
“Is this physical pain from the hang-over, or were there some behavioral things involved?” Lindy asked me.
I remembered singing the ABBA songs in the bar. Actually, singing and dancing to the ABBA songs. “Both. Sweet Jesus. I don’t want to think about it, please.”
She was trying not to laugh. “Sorry, it’s just that usually you’re the one holding my hair, not the other way around.” I leaned back against the seat and tried to clear my mind of all thoughts of the previous night.
Lindy’s p
arents lived in an old summer cottage set back in the woods off Glen Lake. They had retired there after Lindy and her brother moved out, and really, it made my house look like a mansion in terms of size. I had known her parents forever, since Lindy and I bonded in kindergarten over our mutual distaste for the wheat bread sandwiches in our lunchboxes. We preferred the kind of bread you could make into a squishy white ball with your hands, that turned greyish if you hadn’t washed well after recess.
The Baumgartners were happy to see me, and were also happy to let me plant myself in the shade in a chair for a while until I was totally up to speed. Then we spent the afternoon out on her dad’s boat, with Logan and me tubing and trying out the ancient pair of water skis her dad had dug up from somewhere. It was all fun and games until I lost my top. Logan was quite the gentleman while I treaded water and he found it for me, his eyes averted.
Lindy had told her parents about the baby and they were so happy. Her mom and I discussed a shower, which I was thrilled to throw for Lindy in a location other than my own home. Mrs. Baumgartner had always tried to step up for me in the maternal department, which I appreciated—she gave me a sex talk, when I started getting serious with Julian, and she was the one who took me shopping for a dress to go to his prom (with Lindy offering her own fashion tips, mostly “shorter” and “tighter” and “more boobs.”) Lindy’s mom had also helped me plan my wedding, which we hadn’t gotten to have.
“Katie’s seeing Mason Whitaker,” Lindy told her, licking peanut butter off a knife.
Her mom took it from her. “Did I fail to teach you any manners? That was for everyone to use!”
“We’re all friends here,” Lindy replied. “Did you hear me? Mason Whitaker!”
“It’s not serious,” I pointed out. “It’s just more fun to go out with him than Lindy’s friend with the weeping carbuncle.”
“I did say sorry about that, right?” she asked me, and stuck out her tongue and made a disgusted face.
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