Skinny Dipping Season

by Cynthia Tennent

  I looked closer. Her hair was more natural than the usual dark black tone and her face was smoother and less wrinkled. But it was Grandma. I sat back and let it sink in. The girl in the picture seemed a little older than Cherry. I was pretty sure she wasn’t my mother. In fact, I didn’t recognize her at all. I turned the picture around. Jennifer Boardman ’73.

  Reaching into the box, I pulled out another picture. Same decade, but a different young girl. This time the girl was in a cap and gown and she clutched a diploma. The back of the picture read Holly Szymanski ’76. I pulled out several letters typed on thin typewriter paper from the old days. They were smudged where someone had tried to correct mistakes. Some were addressed to colleges and some were addressed to Harrison County High School. I frowned as I read. All of them were recommendations by my grandmother for various students to attend colleges and junior colleges in the state.

  After that, I pulled out pictures of a man in uniform who I knew must be my great-grandfather. Another picture of the same man with a pretty young version of Grandma. There were several pictures of my family, including the one of Grandma and me that last evening in Toledo. She had framed it after all.

  Sitting back on my heels, I reached for my phone and dialed Nestor. “I’m going through my grandma’s box.”

  “Well, it’s about time. I was beginning to wonder when the hell you were going to finally call me!”

  “What does it mean?”

  “It means that your grandma was one of the finest ladies in this county, is what it means.”

  “She helped all these kids somehow?”

  “And more! She tutored scores of young girls and boys. And she did it for free! Without her, dozens of kids would never have graduated high school, much less made it through college.”

  “Why didn’t I ever hear about it?”

  “Your grandma didn’t like to brag. Besides, she didn’t want the kids to be embarrassed by the fact that they needed her help. I’m not sure your mother even knew. She was too busy rubbing elbows in Washington.”

  “But did Grandma even finish college?”

  “Hell yes! Summa cum laude at the University of Michigan, class of fifty-four. And that was an era when many women didn’t even go to college.”

  For the second time in a week I felt my world shift. Grandma had quietly done what she believed in. She was more than her funny dark hair and her housecoats and her hopeless cigarette habit. She was a remarkable woman. Of course, I knew that. But I never understood the full extent.

  “I just can’t believe after all these years I never knew.”

  “Well, now you do!” Nestor challenged me. “So just what the hell do you think you’re going to do with that knowledge? Go work at Booties again in that obscene leopard bra?”

  “How did you find out about the bra?”

  “I have my sources, young lady. And let me just say that your grandma is probably rolling in her grave right now.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Rolling in her grave, laughing her fanny off!” he said with a chuckle. The chuckle turned into a laugh and suddenly I was laughing with him.

  “Do you really think she’d think it was funny?”

  “Hell, yes. Nobody had a better sense of humor than she did.”

  I wished I had known my grandmother better. I stopped laughing and sighed. “I miss her, Nestor.”

  “Me too, my dear. Me too. And I’m thinking, your grandma would be real proud of the way you have handled yourself this summer. You’ve grown stronger, you know.”

  “Thanks, Nestor! Having you say that means the world to me.”

  “Any time, love.”

  When I hung up I stared at the burn in the carpet. More than ever, I missed J. D. I wanted to share all my new knowledge with him.

  I wanted to share something else, too.

  I loved J. D.

  The truth wasn’t earth-shattering or explosive or a dangerous feeling. Not like in the paperback books I had been reading. It was much more solid, like a rock. Reality beat fiction hands down, I decided.

  I took the picture of Grandma and me and put it up on the coffee table, next to the gnome the girls had glued together.

  The evening gnats had made their way through the holes in the screens. They gravitated toward the light in the ceiling and flew circles around the room. They would disappear when they were ready. I wandered into the kitchen, opening up the refrigerator. I wasn’t really hungry. But I grabbed a jar of peanut butter and a used spoon from the counter.

  Restlessly, I strolled back into the living room. Out of the blue, I heard a rap on the front window and saw the sheerest image of a face peeking at me. I dropped the jar of peanut butter and the spoon on the table.

  A sense of déjà vu overtook me.

  This time I opened the front door.

  “Just for the record,” J. D. said, standing on my front porch. “I kind of liked the bra . . .”

  I threw myself into his arms, almost knocking him backwards down the step. I buried my face in his neck and breathed him in. He turned his face into the mass of curls at the top of my head and did the same.

  I wrapped my legs around his hips and J. D. carried me through the door. I never wanted to let him go.

  Much later, we moved from the living-room floor to the bed to the kitchen. And then back again.

  A refreshing rain shower soothed the warmth of the night. Faraway dim flashes of lightning and a gentle thunder paced themselves. A cooling breeze blew through the window, lifting the curtains. The puff of air smelled of dirt and woodsy plants.

  J. D. watched with hooded eyes as I raised myself up on my elbow and looked down at him. The dim light filtering in from the hallway bathed the room in soft shadows.

  “Where were you?” I asked.

  “Sheriff Howe’s hunting lodge. No cell service, no phones, no electricity. Don’t be mad. I needed to get my head on straight.” He reached out to smooth the lock that fell across my forehead. “When I came back into range and got your two thousand text messages, I figured I’d come straight here.”

  “What happens now? Are you in trouble after the fight?”

  “Nothing happens. Bootie doesn’t want the trouble—so he agreed not to file charges of disorderly conduct against Dylan, as long as Dylan doesn’t file a complaint against me. Sheriff Howe and I figured it was best if I took a short leave.”

  “That was easy,” I said.

  “You could file a charge of harassment against Dylan if you wanted.”

  I shook my head. I was done with the whole thing.

  “And you? What have you been doing while I was away?”

  “Well, I took a risk and told the truth. Elliot and I sat down with Dad and spent a long time talking. Once confronted with the facts, my father actually believed that those weren’t my drugs.”

  J. D. grunted. “He should have questioned it from the start.”

  “Maybe. But I also learned what really happened the night of my arrest.” J. D. smiled at the excitement in my voice. “Dad made some inquiries and hired an investigator. It turns out that Colin and Alexa drove my dad’s car the day of my arrest. Colin, the man who hates people who smoke, doesn’t seem to think pot smoking counts. When my father confronted him, he claimed he needed the marijuana for medicinal purposes. Severe anxiety.”

  “Asshole.”

  I put my head back on his chest. “The bar association is interested in his rationale.”

  “Good.”

  “And did you know that in the state of Ohio it is possible to have your record expunged? It might take time, but there is a good chance I could be cleared by the end of the year.”

  “I am so happy for you.” He ran his fingers up and down my shoulder.

  Suddenly I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Well, the last thing I learned is really the kicker. I learned I love you, J. D.”

  He froze. His body turned to stone and his breathing halted.

  I raised my head. “J. D.? Are
you okay?” I should have never said it. “Oh God, I just ruined everything.”

  Gathering himself, he pulled his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. His breathing started again, heavy and ragged. I ran my hands across his back, trying to calm him down.

  “I’m sorry, I’ll take it back if it really bothers you.”

  When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. “No . . . no . . . it’s all right. I just—give me a moment to let it sink in.”

  “Okay,” I said. I stroked his back and prayed that he wasn’t about to run away.

  He turned his head. “Are you sure you want to say that? I mean, I pretty much made a fool of myself in front of half the town last week.”

  “Actually that was me.”

  “Listen, E, do you understand what you’re getting yourself into?”

  I crawled over the sheets until I straddled his lap. I placed my hands on his shoulders. “Just because you were in trouble as a kid doesn’t mean you are hopeless for the rest of your life. In fact, you’re stronger than anyone I know. I mean—my God, J. D.—you’ve built a whole new life for yourself.”

  He grabbed my arms and removed them. Struggling not to feel hurt, I leaned away from him. “It’s me, isn’t it? Listen, I know I’m a mess that you don’t want to clean up. I completely understand that. I just want you to know that I love you. Is that so awful to hear from a crazy lady?”

  He paused before blurting out, “I’ve never heard anyone say that to me before.”

  “You never heard anyone say I love you?” I leaned forward and cradled his head in my hands. “Do you want me to take it back?”

  The corner of his mouth tilted up. “Just let me get used to it.”

  “Well, you may want to think about it carefully—you’ve met the Livelys. You already know about my OCD issues. My family could easily employ a team of psychologists for years. Believe it or not, my little brother is the most normal one of us. It turns out the other relative who I always loved, but was told my whole life was a trashy, crusty old lady, was the best of the whole family. That’s the most ironic part. Grandma was better than all my upper-crust Lively relatives put together.”

  J. D. reached out and pulled me to him. “You take after her.” Tears rose in my eyes.

  “Oh my God, J. D., I swear I’ve cried enough in the last few days to turn the Gobi Desert green.” He kissed the tears at the corner of each eye.

  “For the record, J. D., anybody—and I mean anybody—could have responded the same way to that idiot Schraeder. He was such a jerk that I almost crawled over the crowd to go at him myself.”

  “Yeah, but I’m law enforcement. I should have known better.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m a teacher, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to act like a kid once in a while! I am so sorry.”

  “Elizabeth, stop apologizing for what happened. I forgive you. But if you ever do something like that again, I’m going to throw you back in the muck.”

  “I promise.”

  We sat holding each other, listening to the distant thunder.

  “So?”

  He was involved in kissing a spot just behind my ear.

  “So?” I said again.

  A smile that I couldn’t see but I could feel was making it difficult for his mouth to kiss me properly. I waited. And still he said nothing. I wiggled and pulled away. He reached out and held me. I was making him happy in all the right places.

  “Okay, buddy. You have to respond somehow here. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

  A low rumble began in the back of his throat, joining a departing rumble of thunder in the distance. The thundershower was moving away.

  “So . . . hmmm,” he teased me, bringing a finger to his lips. “Do you want to talk about something?”

  If he made fun of me any longer I was going to clobber him far worse than he had clobbered Dylan Schraeder. He must have sensed that I couldn’t take much more. Bringing my hands to his mouth, he planted a gentle kiss on each of my palms.

  Then he met my gaze. “What can I say? From the moment I met you, I lost my mind. You made me madder than anyone—well, except Dylan Schraeder, but I hate to put you in his company. You and your junk-food loving—”

  “Hey, I threw out the Twinkies—”

  “This is my speech, stop talking!”

  I nodded submissively.

  “Okay, where was I?”

  “Something about how wonderful you have felt since you met me.”

  “Oh, yeah, you have been a pain—well, you also have made me feel incredibly wonderful, and accepted, and cared for, and—”

  “—and loved.”

  “Elizabeth!”

  “Oops—sorry.”

  “And . . .” He held my chin and looked me straight in the eyes. “I love you.”

  “You do?”

  “I just said it.”

  “You really do?”

  “This is new for me, you know. I have to ease into it.”

  “Yeah. But I said it first, so you have to say it several times to be even.”

  He flopped backwards on the bed with his arms out.

  “You win! I love you, Elizabeth! I love you! I love you!”

  I had won.

  Chapter 21

  The next morning, I sat in the parking lot of Our Lady of Perpetual Peace. My clammy hands clutched the steering wheel. J. D. sat in his SUV parked next to mine and stared straight ahead. Neither one of us wanted to climb out of our cars and face the town for the first time since Booties lost its top, so to speak.

  J. D. made the first move and exited his truck. He stood tall and straightened his hat, squinting up at the sky.

  The rain last night had taken away all the humidity in the air and the sky was a blue topaz that was startling in its clarity. By all accounts it should have been a perfect day. But I would have preferred a root canal in the middle of a hurricane.

  J. D. bent down and knocked on my passenger window. I put my hands across the steering wheel and buried my face in them. He knocked again.

  I couldn’t avoid it any longer. I opened the door and stepped out, wishing I was back in bed with his arms around me. I gazed across the roof of my car at his sympathetic face.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I think I’m going to throw up,” I said, without even trying to hide the whine in my tone.

  “That makes both of us.”

  “This is going to be s-o-o awful. I haven’t seen anyone but Nestor and the girls since Booties. Based on Nestor’s reaction, I can’t imagine the rest of the ladies are going to appreciate the sight of me.” My complaining was slightly exaggerated because I wanted to take his mind off his own plight. I had it easy compared to him. Walking around town, knowing everyone knew you’d sent Dylan Schraeder down the bar like a bowling ball, was going to be tough.

  I bit my lip. “We make a pathetic pair.”

  “We have to show our faces sometime,” J. D. said.

  I took a deep breath. “Everyone is either going to turn their backs on us or stone us.”

  He moved his lips back and forth, considering that possibility. Then he smiled. “They won’t do that. But they might make you burn that bra.”

  He reached out his hand and I met it with my own and squeezed for encouragement. Then he let go and moved off down Main Street.

  Watching J. D.’s squared shoulders as he walked under the Timberfest banner reminded me why I loved him. He didn’t shy away from what needed to be done. What a man!

  Keeping my eye out for flying rocks, I pocketed the keys and crossed the road. A mother was trying to fit a toddler into a stroller ahead of me, and a teenager was talking on his cell phone near the entrance to the diner. I pushed on the door, trying to keep the bell on top down to a mild jingle. Taking a brief glance around, I noted the usual Wednesday crowd.

  I figured it would be best if I confronted Corinne and Marva right away. I skirted a group of older ladies and tried to avoid eye contact. Someone
called my name. Would it be rude to act like I didn’t hear anything?

  “Hi, Elizabeth! Want some coffee?” asked Flo. She must have missed out on the latest gossip if she was being so friendly to me.

  I smiled weakly. “Thanks, Flo, but I have to talk to someone first.”

  “Well, you come on back when you’re ready for some refreshments. We’re all talking about the craft tent at the Timberfest and we need your opinion.” The ladies at the booth smiled and nodded their heads.

  I thanked her and waved as I stepped backward. I made my way to the counter where a group of women stood looking at a display board. I peeked over their shoulders to see a series of historical photographs. A large woman in front of me, wearing a pink-and-purple toucan–printed Hawaiian shirt, turned around and I came face-to-face with Marva. Her pink glasses glared in a ray of sunlight that peeked through the front windows.

  “Well, well, look who came to town! Just in time to see the mock-up of our historical display. What have you been up to, Elizabeth?” There was a bite to her tone, and I knew she was upset.

  “Hi, Marva. I’ve just been laying low for a few days.”

  “You don’t say,” said Marva with her hand on her hip. “I’ve got to admit I was really disappointed in you.”

  My heart dropped, but I thought of J. D. and how bravely he must be facing the town and decided I could do the same. “I know, Marva.”

  Marva tilted her head out of the sunlight so that I could finally see her eyes. She looked me up and down, from my curls that were pulled back in a ponytail to the simple white V-neck T-shirt and modest light-blue shorts and sandals.

  “You know, huh?” Then she smiled. “Janet Grotelarz was really disappointed in the turnout and I know you would have loved the home-style jams. I hope you don’t mind, but I put you down for a raspberry and cherry.”

  “What?”

  “Well, I knew it was probably a busy week with your family just having been by, and . . . well . . . you know all the other stuff. So I will excuse you just this one time. But since you were invited to the northern food feast-tasting night but never showed, it was the least I could do for Janet. She said if you wanted another type of jam she would be happy to exchange. And she left a brochure for you. It’s in the trunk of my car and you can pick it up before you leave today. I didn’t want to put the jam in there, of course, because you know with this heat it would be bad for the preserves. So I can drop those off to you sometime.”