by Spikes J. D.
The four of us congregated far from the hose.
“Well, looks like that will be it for today,” Mr. Philbrook said and attempted to wring some of the water from his shirt. “Let’s go, Zach. Good as it feels after baking in the sun, we should get dry.”
Aunt squeezed her ponytail out. “But I bought swordfish for the grill. Can you come back?”
Mr. P. pushed a soaked lock of curls behind her ear and studied her, not answering, until Zach nudged him none-too-gently with his elbow. That earned him a glower and Aunt a response. “Sure, Eddie. We’ll get cleaned up and be back by six for swordfish.”
Zach licked his lips in anticipation. “With lemon butter, right?”
Aunt laughed. “With lemon butter, of course.”
We gathered the yard tools as Zach and his dad rewound the hose and put the ladder away. Aunt walked toward the Philbrooks’ truck with her list of projects for both Jay and the bicentennial, but Zach remained. I perched on the porch steps to wait for Aunt and see what Zach had to say.
“You’re a good partner in crime.”
Not what I expected, but okay.
“And you’re cute when you’re wet.”
My shirt must have shrunk, because it was suddenly harder to breathe.
“You know, Daph, there’s something else about lighthouses I should tell you. Something you probably don’t know. Because of your age and all.”
O-kay. My age? With a raise of my eyebrows, I demanded, “And what might that be?” enunciating every word.
“When the handyman leaves, the keeper has to kiss him.”
“Hah!” The word burst from me and I started to laugh, but Zach strove to maintain his serious air, so I decided to play along. I composed myself.
“Uh, Zach? Nothing personal but . . .” I twisted my lips and scrunched up my nose.
His earnest expression slipped a notch.
“I really . . . don’t . . . want . . . to kiss . . .” I leaned away a bit with each hesitation and Zach leaned in a bit, his bottom jaw beginning to drop.
“. . . your dad.”
Zach grinned, but his shoulders sagged with relief. He dropped to the stairs beside me.
“I do want to kiss you.”
His head almost spun off his shoulders to look at me. Then he gauged the visuals between us and the truck. “If we’re caught, I won’t be back tonight.”
When he turned to make sure I had heard, I grabbed his face and kissed him. I mean I kissed him. My heart pounded, but as soon as our lips met, all my fears and worry and concern slid away, and I went for broke.
“I missed you.” Simple words, it seems, but powerful. I uttered them then pulled back, away from his lips and his arms. Away from safety and danger at once.
His gaze burned into mine. He fingered my hair, knuckles brushing my collarbone, and his other hand dropped lightly to my knee. “I missed you, too.”
The truck started. Zach stood abruptly.
“I’ve got to go.”
I nodded. “See you in a bit.”
He nodded back, not speaking, and hurried off.
I rose and climbed the steps to the porch. Aunt’s foot on the stair made me pause until she joined me to go in.
“We’re lucky we have them to help us out, Daph.”
“Absolutely,” I responded.
“I wish Jay would charge me right, though. He shouldn’t be discounting and doing work for free.”
“Give Zach a raise.”
My aunt turned to me in the mudroom. “What?”
“If his dad won’t charge you what he should, give Zach a raise. Or a bonus! Yeah, a bonus. The extra you’d pay his dad if he’d take it. It’s not like Zach doesn’t deserve it. And he’ll need it for college next year.”
My aunt mulled this over. “Jay would know what I’m up to.”
“So? He still wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said. “Maybe I can increase his hourly and give him a ‘special projects’ bonus.” She winked at me. “Then it won’t be so obvious.”
As she headed to her room to clean up for dinner, I heard her mumble, “Damn stubborn man.”
Smiling, knowing exactly how she felt, I jogged up the stairs to my room.
Chapter 16
My salad looked breathtaking on the table, grape tomatoes, yellow peppers, and mandarin orange slices tossed together against the green and burgundy leaves of the field greens. I finished oiling the last of the potatoes and added them to the grill. Mostly cooked in the microwave, the skin would crisp up nicely at about the same time the fish was done.
Zach and his dad arrived with corn on the cob and citronella torches. I helped Mr. P. with the torches since Zach was too busy drooling over the fish to lend a hand.
“Your aunt never remembers,” Mr. Philbrook explained as we drove the torches into the ground diagonally from each table corner. “You’d turn in tonight looking like bubble wrap.”
The visual made me laugh out loud and Zach’s dad seemed pleased by that.
Dinner went off without a hitch. I thought it was going to be weird, sitting through a whole meal with both of them, almost like a double date, but it wasn’t strange at all. The four of us had plenty to talk about, with the bicentennial so near, and even normal conversation never lagged.
We lined up at the fence near the base of the tower at sunset. The water lapped the rocks far below us, calm ripples in the windless night. The sun painted the white tower pink, cranberry, and blue, paler and paler until it disappeared beneath the horizon.
Four heads automatically looked up, checking that the light shone out across the water. We smiled at each other.
Clean up was quick and the torches burned low, but the night was still young.
“How about a movie?” Aunt suggested.
A ten minute debate later, we’d agreed to watch a movie, but not which one. A murmured conversation between Aunt and Zach’s dad followed.
“Daphne, we’re going to run to the video store. Do you know if we have popcorn left?”
“Yeah, but you might want to grab some soda.”
“Okay.” The two adults eyeballed us, gauging. “You coming with us, or staying here?”
Zach and I shrugged at the same time.
“Guess we’ll wait here.” I grinned. “Zach could use a few turns around the yard to walk off that food.”
They laughed at Zach’s pointed expression and Aunt put her hand to Mr. P.’s arm.
“I’ll meet you out front, Jay. I have to grab my purse.”
She watched him walk away then turned to us, her face serious. “Don’t make me regret this.”
Our solemn nods reassured her. She crossed the yard and disappeared into the house.
Zach and I started across the yard. We passed the table, one on either side, and continued on to the fence. Back to the sea, the shush of lazy waves. Back to the siren’s call.
I leaned on the wall of the tower, watching Zach. Zach rested his hands on the rail, watching the sea.
“You never told me, Zach,” I said, my voice hushed in the twilight. “What did you do while under house arrest?”
He didn’t look my way but answered, “Got lectured.”
“Lectured?”
No response.
“About what?”
“Responsibility.”
“Huh?” He’d lost me. I wasn’t thinking clearly, or I would have seen where this was going. Of course, I’d been asleep for the good parts of our last encounter, so I should be excused.
Zach turned his back to the sea and hopped up onto the top rail. He stared at his hands. “My dad reminded me I’ll be going to college come fall, and how young we are. That I should think about your reputation, and just plain think.” He tapped his temple. “With this head.”
“OH!” My hands flew to my mouth and I sagged against the lighthouse tower.
He glanced at me with a lopsided grin. “Sorry. But that’s what he said.”
I couldn’t look at him, but I couldn’t not look at him. Heat rushed up and down, up and down me, from head to foot.
He jumped down from the fence but leaned there, his eyes dark pools of restless ocean water. “Don’t be . . . I told him we didn’t do anything, Daph. The whole thing was just—we didn’t do anything.”
“What did he say?” I mumbled through my hands.
“That we were damn lucky and we should damn well think next time and damn, we should discuss it first if we think of doing it because if we’re old enough to do it, then we’re damn well old enough to talk about it and the damn consequences.” He heaved a sigh. “He’s been real fond of the word damn.”
Silence dropped over us. The moon rose, painting the sky dusky and romantic. My arms slid down to hug my waist as I dropped my gaze to the ground.
“Daphne?”
My heart banged a ponderous beat, like trying to run in a dream. He had moved, standing before me now.
“Have you ever thought about, you know . . . doing it?”
Without looking up, I felt my face relax, if not the rest of me. I could answer that safely. Didn’t just about everyone my age think about it at some point?
“With me.”
My eyes locked on his. My lips parted, tongue flicking out to wet them, and my arms dropped to my sides out of protect mode. Fingers gripped the tower wall, but I straightened, swaying away from the stone at my back.
Unintentional messaging as old as time, he moved closer, honed in on my willingness.
It was so hard to breathe. I kept thinking I should run, but his intense attention kept me glued in place. His hands skimmed my arms, shoulder to elbow and back again. Twice, then he stopped, but his eyes continued to roam over me. The effect rippled across me, blocking reason. My body gelled; my limbs weakened and surged with strength at the same time.
“I wouldn’t . . . ,” I started, looking away, trying to save myself, and he leaned in.
“But have you thought about it?”
I lifted my eyes to his. “Yes.”
His face softened, tension leaving it though the air was still tight between us. “Me, too.”
Zach dropped his arms to his sides, but he didn’t step back.
I reached out and rubbed his elbow. His hands found my waist then settled on my hips, their weight an unspoken signal. Almost on their own, my palms went to his chest, my heart pounding as I slid them past his open, white button-down shirt, to rest on the muscle t-shirt beneath. The heat of his skin through the cloth warmed my fingertips to a fine tingle.
His hands slid back up to my waist, bunching my shirt as they went.
I pressed back against the wall, panicked and excited when his thumbs brushed the skin of my stomach and shot the tingle right up my arms. I gripped his shoulders to steady myself.
Zach pushed closer and his hands moved higher. Chills skittered up ahead of them. His lips came down on mine.
He consumed me—I can’t think of any other way to describe it. Though our bodies barely touched, electricity pulsed back and forth like some storm experiment gone haywire. I vibrated in places I didn’t believe I could and all my senses seemed to scramble up.
I flung my arms around his neck and he crushed me close. Our bodies were a perfect fit.
We spun away from each other as though burned. I backed to the fence, gripping the nearest post for balance. Zach planted one hand against the lighthouse, the other on his hip, and stared at the ground. His breath seemed to come as sharp and shallow as my own.
“I’m sorry, Daph. I shouldn’t have . . .”
It would be so easy to let him take all the blame. After all, aren’t guys just walking hormones waiting to pounce on the first unsuspecting female?
But I knew in my heart I was as much at fault. I had called him to me, as anxious to explore this realm as he was—and as scared.
“We shouldn’t have, Zach,” I managed at last, finding breath to power my words. “But I’m not sorry.”
A sea breeze washed over me, chilling, as his gaze flashed me with fire. Goosebumps speckled my flesh and my knees teetered. Zach straightened and held out his hand. “Let’s go sit at the table.”
“Opposite sides.” I smiled and slid my palm to his. His hand clenched with mine seeped strength back into me.
We settled at the table, across from each other. Zach hadn’t let my hand go yet.
“Any luck with the journal hunt?” he asked, tracing my fingers against his palm.
“No. And I can’t tell you how disappointed I am. I was so sure Ro would’ve kept one.”
“Maybe it isn’t in the library. Maybe she would have hidden it somewhere else. Someplace private.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Why didn’t I think of that?”
He shrugged but his smirk said I rule.
I stuck my tongue out at him. The truck rumbled up the drive. Zach and I blew out the torches and went into the house.
For grownups they’d done a pretty good job. They picked up the latest comedy send-up of horror movies, which Zach and I had talked about just yesterday. We made popcorn and split it into two bowls. Aunt and Mr. Philbrook took the couch, and Zach and I tossed the four floor pillows into a pile and leaned on those.
Mr. Philbrook started to say something, and Aunt stuffed popcorn into his mouth. He scowled at her but didn’t look mad.
Aunt pinned me with ‘the look’. It always made me feel grown up. I knew it meant something, but I’d never been sure quite what.
Until today.
As though the words were printed on her eyeballs, I read it clearly.
I trust you.
I would prove myself worthy.
The movie lived up to its hype, scary and funny. I think we laughed more at Aunt’s aversion to gelatinous drippings, though, than the actual scenes they occurred in. We started a contest to see who could name the movie being spoofed first. Mr. P. and I were tied until the spiders showed up.
Did I mention I hate spiders?
Every time their creepy, sneaky, hairy selves showed up on the screen, I hid. First behind my hands, then behind Zach’s shoulder, and finally behind the right side of his shirt.
Zach threw his arm around me and pulled me close. I huddled to his side, yanking the shirt in clenched fists to my eyes.
Zach’s dad grumbled, “Spiders are good, Daphne. They eat lots of bad bugs that would ruin garden plants.”
“Shh,” Aunt shushed him. “I don’t care how useful they are. Daphne’s right. They’re sneaky and creepy. At least she’s getting some sympathy.”
“Awww. Poor baby,” he said, and pulled her near.
And so the rest of the night passed. When the movie ended, they rose to leave. I walked Zach to the truck while Aunt and Mr. P. spoke on the porch.
At the back of the truck Zach dropped the gate and we both hopped up. He moved close. When we swung our legs, it seemed we were hinged together at the knee.
“I could probably get to the town library tomorrow, Daphne, and look for, I don’t know, diaries I guess, in the Maine room.”
“That’s so sweet, Zach, but I really don’t think we’ll find anything there. Thanks anyway, though.” I bumped his shoulder with mine. “And thanks for letting me wrinkle your shirt to death.”
He ran two fingers along the edge of my hair and tucked it behind my ear. “My pleasure.”
I ducked my head, embarrassed and pleased. He placed his hand over mine and we twined our fingers together. Our legs stilled.
“You know, Zach, there is something you can do for me.”
“What’s that?”
“Next rainy day when I go up to search the attic, you can come along and slay spiders.”
“What if there’s lightning?” He brushed his lips across my temple.
My eyes drifted closed with the sensation. “Then I guess I’ll be wrinkling another shirt.”
I peeked open one eye. He was right there, so
close, that one-sided grin so adorable.
I pressed my mouth quickly to his then jumped down from the truck and started toward the porch.
“Hey!” he called, “where are you going?”
I turned and threw my arms up. “To watch the weather channel!”
His laugh followed me up the porch steps, past Aunt and his dad, and warmed me all the way to bed.
Chapter 17
I cannot grasp the unkindness of a world that spurned our beautiful Sarah. If the townfolk wish to claim victory with her passing, as though a curse from God, may God forgive them. Ignorance, I have discovered, cannot be reasoned with.
Ah, Vincent . . . how I miss you and Sarah and the life we could have lived. Oft’ times I know not how I bear such despair, nor how I do not run from it.
Still, my love, I would not quit this place as well you know, for I will not be driven from all I hold dear.
I do remember your words on that glorious afternoon when first we kissed. Who would have guessed such life could spring forth amongst the headstones? I did not understand the need for caution then, but now take your warning to heart that small towns have long memories.
I pray to my last breath this is so. If it is curse and legend they crave, I will gladly oblige. Let my words be found a curse, and legend rise from it: A Wentworth woman will forever tend this light; able of body, proud of heart—an authority that cannot be shunned or ignored. She will have a Philbrook by her side, be they friend or lover. Yes, my love. Your family—your people—will always be welcomed here.
Alas the night calls. I will see to the lights, a beacon to guide other lonely souls, and then I shall retire. Perhaps, in slumber, we will meet again.
Ro snapped the green velvet cover closed, and I awoke. Flat on my back, the white ceiling reflected the nothingness, the emptiness inside me, and hot tracks of tears began to flow down the sides of my face and into my ears.
I couldn’t move. I did not want to move. I wanted to close my eyes and return to unknowing, the blank state of deep sleep.
My alarm clock sounded and I had to rise. The tears shifted direction, salting my lips with their despair. I slapped the off button and got up, walking to the window. To the sea.