What She Wanted

by Julie Anne Lindsey

  Mom had described the allure of a crowded stadium in great detail. From the smell of hot, buttered popcorn and soft, doughy pretzels to the buzzing of laughter and a hundred conversations. According to her journal, she’d attended every home game, determined to support the team, even after being kicked off the cheer squad. Silly as it seemed, I felt her presence there. It seemed like a place her spirit might visit anytime the lights snapped on.

  A family stretched across the silver seats below me, representing every age group from bottle baby to great-grandparents. I slid the phone from my pocket and snapped a picture. What must it be like at their house during Sunday dinner or on Christmas morning?

  Closer to the field, a man in a wheelchair waved a big foam finger as the cheerleaders took center field. They kicked Nikes overhead and shook pompons senseless before morphing into a giant human tower.

  I easily imagined my mom on the top of the structure, holding one ankle in the air and captivating the crowd with her smile. The flyer sprang free, nailing a toe touch before falling into the waiting arms of two girls in matching uniforms.

  I hollered. I clapped overhead and smiled wildly into the night. My mind screamed, Lunatic behavior! Insanity! It was amazing.

  Heidi moseyed to my side with two cans of soda and a paper bag. “Excuse me, did you just woot?”

  “I did. Oh my goodness, why haven’t I ever agreed to come with you before?”

  “You’re here now.” She handed me a drink and bumped me with her hip, taking position on the far side of me. “Looks like your boy’s enjoying himself, too.”

  Dean was shirtless and lined up with his friends at the railing in front of the cheerleaders. He and three other guys danced to the cheerleaders’ music, swinging their hips and moving their arms in sync. Each guy had a giant letter painted on his chest. Together they said “MCHS.”

  I laughed. Seeing him so happy only fed the bizarre joy whizzing inside me.

  Heidi opened her paper bag and the warm, salty scents of hot dough crept out. She ripped a wedge of soft pretzel off with her fingertips. “Concessions is packed. You want a bite?”

  “No thanks.” There was too much to take in. I couldn’t think about food.

  “Oh. Yuck. Incoming. Blaire the Blonde at twelve o’clock.”

  I didn’t have to ask where twelve o’clock was. I’d seen Blaire and her girl posse saunter through the gate several minutes earlier. It took her less than five to target Dean. Every guy in the place broke his neck to watch her pass by. She stopped at the foursome shouting along with the cheer squad.

  Three of the lettermen stopped to chat and ogle.

  Dean slapped his guys some high fives and jogged past the newcomers with little more than a nod. He took the bleacher stairs two at a time and slid to a stop at row ten. “Hey, sorry.” He slipped into place beside me. “Had to do it. It’s a football tradition. I just gave the team good luck all year.”

  “Generous of you.”

  He rubbed his palms together. “Alumni players did it for us when I played. It goes back for generations.” He huffed and smiled.

  Heidi offered him some pretzel. “You kind of blew off your groupies.”

  Dean stuffed the pretzel piece into his mouth. “Thanks.” He sucked salt off the pad of his thumb and looked toward the spot he’d just left. “They know I’m here with Katy. Whatever they think of that is their deal.”

  Heidi plied him with more of her salty treat. “And how about M, C, and H down there? What do they think of your new love interest?”

  His smile grew smug. “They think I’m damn lucky.”

  “Right on,” she agreed.

  Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Whoa. I’m out of breath. I need to get in shape before I develop a dad bod.”

  Heidi coughed hard and waved a hand in the direction of his sculpted pecs and abs.

  I translated. “I think she disagrees.”

  She made a thumbs-up and took a swig from her soda can.

  Sadly, he pulled his shirt back on and dropped the hem around his hips. “I can’t believe this is your first football game. Ohio’s built on this stuff. What else have you missed?”

  Heidi caught her breath and lifted a finger. “So far, she’s missed everything. Dances. Parties. All social events. Ever. She didn’t even visit colleges this spring because there’s only one she wants to attend. Though, she can always come to Kent with me.”

  Dean fixed me with his happy stare. “I wouldn’t argue with that. You’d love Kent. They have an excellent film school.”

  I rolled my eyes. “So I’ve heard.”

  He pulled me in front of him and wrapped his arms around my stomach. “You’re going to have so much fun tonight.”

  I leaned my back against his chest. “I already am.”

  “I’m glad.” His sweet breath tickled my cheek as he moved his lips beside my temple.

  We screamed and danced for the next two hours, utterly carefree. Dean occasionally puppeteered my arms into clapping overhead when something especially footbally happened. My skin snapped and tingled from the thrill and rampant energy of the night. I wanted more nights like that.

  The parking lot afterward was in an uproar. The varsity team had creamed the JV, and the wound-up spectators galloped and partied all the way to their cars, blaring air horns and hollering at the moon. A few tailgaters fired the grills back up.

  “Will you be late for curfew if we stay a while?” Dean asked when his truck came into view.

  Heidi tapped the screen of her phone. “I’m telling my mom I’m staying at Katy’s.”

  I shrugged. “I want to check in on Mark, but he won’t be waiting up, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Well then.” Dean lowered his tailgate and hoisted me up by my hips. “I’ve packed a cooler with drinks, snacks, and blankets. You can sit on the blankets so your legs don’t get dirty or uncomfortable.”

  Heidi hopped up beside me. “This is awesome.” She flipped open the cooler and dug through partially melted ice for a round of drinks.

  I wrapped my heels around the backs of Dean’s legs and hauled him closer. “Thank you.”

  He let me wrangle him until his hips bumped the tailgate.

  I buzzed with anticipation as he pressed his palms on either side of my legs and lowered his sexy face to mine. “I’m sorry you missed so many things, but I’m glad you let me be part of one of your firsts.”

  Heidi chuckled.

  Dean pulled back in a crazy smile. “I’m talking strictly football.” He melted me with a shit-eating grin only true country boys could manage.

  “Uh-huh,” she teased.

  I curled my fingers in the soft cotton of his shirt and lifted my chin. The night had made me bold. “Come here.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The words were a slow Southern drawl as he lowered his lips to mine.

  I kissed him with restraint and released my grip on his shirt in favor of running my palms over his broad shoulders before placing them back in my lap. “One of the things on my list is to live. I had no idea what she meant by that. Did she mean survive? Did she mean be healthy and don’t get cancer like her and my grandma?”

  Heidi opened a bag of cheese doodles beside me. “No. I think she meant this.”

  I absorbed the night around me. The laughter. The families. The friends. “I think I’ve been afraid to have fun.”

  Dean relaxed and snagged a cheese doodle. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m only here because she put off treatment to save me. I have full-on guilt for existing. I was ashamed and confused, but that wasn’t what she wanted. I think she wanted stuff like this for me. She did what she did so I’d have a chance at happiness. A chance to chase my dreams. Fall in love. Laugh. Give. I think I’d want that for my baby, too, especially if I knew I might not be around to see it. I’d still want her to be happy.”

  Heidi lifted a cheese doodle in a toast. “To Katy’s mom.”

>   I lifted an invisible doodle with hers.

  Our voices rose together. “To my mom” and “To Katy’s mom.”

  I shook off the urge to cry and savored the moment. I was alive and, for the first time in forever, I felt like it. Confidence surged through me. I pressed my heels against Dean’s legs again. “Kiss me.”

  His lips were instantly on mine and moving with purpose, unlike the chaste exchanges we’d shared before. He curled one arm against the small of my back and nestled the fingers of his other hand in my hair, supporting and cradling my head as he leaned hard against me. With a gentle tug, he pulled my bottom lip between his.

  A gasp tore through me, and I wrapped myself around him, towing him closer. Our lips parted and his tongue swept over mine, warm, wet and wanting. The move stole my breath and ignited longings I’d never felt. Heat pooled in my chest and radiated out to every part of me.

  A whooping round of applause went up around us, and I startled, torn from the too-good-to-be-true moment. I wrapped my arms around my middle, collecting heat where chilly night air replaced Dean’s body heat. His cheeks darkened in a blush so delicious, I wanted to be the cause next time.

  Slowly, reality wiggled though the haze. Three shirtless guys chanted at Dean’s back while he ran his thumb across his bottom lip. “Da-ty. Da-ty. Da-ty.”

  Dean braced his palms against the tailgate and dropped his head onto my shoulder. His chest bobbed in laughter, and his nose found the curve of my neck.

  Heidi leaned closer. “Daty. Dean plus Katy. It’s your celebrity couple name. I made it up. They loved it. You two hadn’t come up for oxygen in so long, you lost your chance to vote.”

  I covered my face with both palms and doubled over in laughter. It was unequivocally the most embarrassing, wonderful, amazing moment of my life.

  I never wanted it to end.

  Chapter 20

  I couldn’t get in touch with Mrs. B by phone the next morning, so I decided to pay her an impromptu visit and set up our lunch date. I needed photos for the brochure anyway. If she wasn’t outside in the garden, as I suspected, I’d leave her a note when I finished shooting.

  I found Mark on our front lawn, sifting through a stack of letters. “Bills. Bills. Bills.” He stopped on a shimmery silver envelope. “Ms. Katherine Reese and guest.”

  I snagged it. “Thank you.”

  He ripped the end off the next letter in his stack.

  I turned the fancy envelope over in my hands. Sylvia had toiled over the perfect stationery for her invitations. I ran my fingertip beneath the flap and admired the card within. “I’m officially invited to the gala I helped coordinate.”

  Mark shook his opened letter at me. “I’m officially released from this domestic torture.” He put the papers back in the envelope and clamped a hand over my shoulder. “Light duty. The doc says I can go back to work with some general restrictions.”

  “That’s great.” I hugged him.

  He squeezed me back. “Someone’s got to pay the godforsaken medical bills. It’s probably the main reason he released me. He can’t get paid if all his patients are sitting at home on their asses.”

  For the first time ever, Mark wasn’t the first to let go.

  I cleared my throat. “Well, congratulations. Now you can mow the lawn.”

  He examined the overcast sky and hustled for the house.

  I zipped the invitation into my camera bag and headed for the Baxter place. The walk was beautiful and well shaded by leafy overhanging trees, my favorite kind of routes in July. A number of cars lined the Baxters’ drive and the street out front of their property. It was a great day to enjoy the butterfly garden and walk the paths throughout the property.

  Sounds of playing children met me at the mailbox. If Mrs. B was too busy for a chat today, leading tours or answering questions about the insects, I could still get plenty of good shots, maybe a few of her in action. People loved seeing happy children in photos and most parents had no trouble signing off on the rights for ads like the brochure.

  I hefted my camera from the bag and took a shot of the front door. A hand painted “Welcome” sign hung overhead. A beautiful monarch took the place of the letter O.

  I wandered into the office and took another couple shots of the walls and desk. The first floor rooms of her old farmhouse had been renovated many years ago, transformed into a museum and information center on butterfly awareness, specifically monarchs, various swallowtails, and other native Ohio species.

  Each first floor room served a purpose in the Baxters’ quest to inform and delight. Benches and folding chairs filled the space, just beyond the office, where a projector played an education video on a loop for self-guided tours. The other rooms had brightly colored walls with murals of trees and plants, all labeled for their part in a butterfly’s life. Framed posters of butterfly life cycles, food webs, and fun facts ran the perimeter of the room, just below eye level, so guests of all ages could get a prime look. Bins of plush butterflies sat beside tables with matching games and small mesh tents where Mrs. B displayed her catch of the day. The day’s mascot was new every morning, caught after breakfast and released at closing.

  My heart swelled with each step through the home. I had wonderful memories of field trips to the garden and picnics along the trails with Heidi’s family. The memories before those were even sweeter. Grandma and I had often walked to the butterfly garden together and visited Mrs. B upstairs, in her private quarters. The ladies had coffee and I always had ice cream. I’d felt like the most important girl in the world on those days. The second floor was large and roomy, complete with overstuffed couches and whimsical décor to match her warm and jovial personality. Nothing like the severe, broken-down things Mark had chosen for our home. The Baxter grandchildren were more fortunate than they knew.

  I followed the sounds of laughter through the rear exit and into the first phase of the garden, where wide paver stones made it easy for wheelchairs and strollers to travel. Moms and children wandered the paths lined in flora the butterflies loved. I snapped pictures as I moved, getting in closer to my subjects than I’d dared before. Their antennae and legs were unbelievably frail looking.

  I zoomed in and marveled at a Black Swallowtail’s proboscis, a curly, straw-like thing used to siphon plant nectar. “Gotcha,” I whispered. The insect took flight, and I shaded my eyes to see where it went. There was something magical about the way butterflies moved. Their beautifully painted, paper-thin wings could carry them high into the sky and deliver them gracefully onto the most delicate leaf with little more than a jostle. I had trouble walking in sneakers. My feet were too big and my limbs were too long for any measure of grace. If I had wings, I’d be a trainwreck.

  My phone buzzed. Heidi appeared on the screen with both hands forming peace signs and a giant pink bubble-gum bubble masking half her face. I balanced the phone between one ear and shoulder. “Why aren’t you texting? Is this an emergency? Is Tom Hiddleston single again?”

  She made a dreamy sigh. “Not yet, but celebrity women are stupid, so I just have to wait for her to see a squirrel and run the other way.”

  I sat on an empty park bench along the path and stowed my camera for safety. Sometimes it took Heidi a minute to remember why she’d called.

  “Oh! Hey. No fair with the Hiddleston mention. I almost forgot. I got an invitation to the gala.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Are you going? You have to. What will you wear? You can borrow something of mine. Is it black tie? When I shop, do I think prom, wedding, or fancy dinner? Never mind. Mom will know. I’ll ask her, and we can raid her closet if needed. She’s a fancy dress junkie.”

  “I didn’t think I was going until the invitation got here, but now I want to see it. I probably should offer to work that night. She can’t do it alone. She has to hostess. Besides, how often will I have the opportunity to attend a Sylvia Reynolds gala?”

  “Oh, you have to go. Going is manda
tory. You’re my guide to all things photography. Are you inviting Dean?”

  I twisted a loose thread from my shirt around one finger. Memories of our kiss after the scrimmage and then later when he dropped me off hijacked my thoughts.

  “Hello, Katy?” Heidi’s singsong voice taunted. “Yoo-hoo.”

  “Sorry.”

  “You were thinking about kissing him, right? Please tell me you don’t classify what I witnessed as ‘nice.’ You said the water tower kiss was ‘nice.’ I’m just sayin’, what I saw was hot and a little awkward for me, but I’m not going to lie. I watched.”

  I laughed. Children turned my way and smiled. “No. I happen to agree with you on that. Not nice at all.”

  “Tell me more.”

  “I’m at the butterfly garden taking promotional photos. There are children.”

  “Gotcha. The story is at least PG-13, and I will arrange quiet, big-girl time as soon as possible so you can tell me if you’ve had an opportunity to bounce stuff off his stomach. I mean, it’s military grade ridiculous. Who looks like that?”

  “I have to go. I’ll call you when I’m finished and we’ll shop for the gala.”

  She squealed in agreement and hung up on me.

  “Bye,” I told the phone as I pushed it back into my pocket.

  Mr. B appeared at the tree line, holding a baby to his chest and whistling his way down the path toward the building. His eyes lit up when he noticed me. “Hello, Katy.”

  “Hi, Mr. B.” I pushed onto my feet and went to meet him halfway.

  The baby fussed, and Mr. B bounced lightly on his shiny black shoes in response. “I stopped at home to see this little angel before my next appointment. I didn’t know I’d get to see you today.”