Heart and Home

by Jennifer Melzer

  I looked toward the ceiling, listened hard for some sign of her upstairs, but after several minutes the only sound that answered was the flush of the toilet, and water rushing through pipes behind the kitchen walls.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The rain finally started to taper off around half-past five, and by seven there was nothing left but a trace of silver-lined clouds crawling from time to time across a waxing moon. The streets were still wet and reflected headlights glared back at me as I drove to Becky’s after dinner. Dad and I said nothing else to each other about my mother’s lingering on, and he did his best to act as though we never even discussed it at all. Whether he thought I was losing my mind, I couldn’t tell, but I was glad to say goodbye when I finally left for Becky’s around seven-thirty.

  I was looking forward to spending time with her and Marty, but the butterflies in my stomach only had one thing on their mind: seeing Troy again. Our afternoon encounter, left suspended like the fading smoke after Fourth of July fireworks, still clouded my thoughts, making it nearly impossible to think about anything beyond following through with what we started.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his hands felt against my bare skin, the look in his eyes just after he’d told me I was beautiful. Foolish, yes, and when taken into consideration with Troy’s own advice about not making any rash choices so soon after my mother’s death, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was trying to destroy the whole thing before it had a chance to get off the ground, or get it started so quick we wouldn’t have time to look back until we were so wrapped up in each other there was no turning back.

  My secret hope was for the latter, and that realization coupled with all the obstacles that seemed to stand in the way of that coming into fruition only seemed to make me want him more.

  I was so caught up in my fantasies that I seemed to float to Becky’s on autopilot and was a little surprised when I sat back to turn off the ignition.

  Marty greeted me at the door and explained, “Becky’s upstairs getting the boys around. Let me go on up and get her.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  “You can come on in, and have a seat, make yourself comfortable.”

  I took a seat in the parlor. How strange it was that just five days earlier I ventured into Becky’s home for the very first time since we’d become adults. It already started to feel like I’d been coming over to visit with her and Marty forever, especially after Troy and I came over together. It reminded me of what she’d said while we were doing dishes the night before, about how those visits with friends become the nights you fantasize about being married to each other and having friends over to your own place.

  She was yelling back up to Marty as she marched down the stairs, something about making sure socks actually matched, and then she ducked into the parlor and grinned. “You’re early.”

  “Sorry, I had to get out of the house.”

  “Anything wrong?”

  I shrugged, “I don’t know. Just ghost stuff.”

  “Oh no,” furrowing her brow, she slipped in and sat beside me. “What happened? Something new?”

  I nodded, widening my eyes for dramatic effect. “Oh yeah, something big.”

  “Well?” she nudged me with an impatient elbow.

  “Troy and I were having lunch when I heard a commotion upstairs.”

  “Lunch again, huh?”

  Eyes rolling, I ignored her superficial query and went on. “So I go up to see what it is, and he follows me, probably thinking there’s a raccoon in the attic or something. I search the sewing room, their bedroom, the closets and bathroom, and nothing. So I turn to my room, and when I open the door, the suitcase I just finished packing is laying on the floor, only now it’s empty.”

  “Oh my god,” she whispered, her hand shooting up to cover her mouth.

  “All of the clothes had been put back in the drawers or hung in the closet, and when I opened the closet, I noticed my old stereo speakers knocked over on the floor, so that is what I told Troy. It was just the speakers.”

  “Oh wow,” she shook her head. “Oh, Janice this is almost too much now.”

  “Almost?” I widened my eyes. “Becky, it has gone beyond almost too much. And to top it all off, I got brave when my dad came home and he doesn’t seem to think there is anything out of the ordinary going on around the house.”

  Her face wrinkled with sorrow, “I’m sorry, Janice. I wish there was something I could do to help.”

  “Maybe once I go back on Sunday, it’ll stop.”

  “Yeah,” she looked away, nodding. “Maybe.”

  “Too bad there weren’t any ghost busters or whatever around here.”

  “There are a couple of paranormal research groups in the county, but I don’t know anything about them. I can look into it for you.”

  “That would be nice,” I nodded. “Though I can’t imagine Dad will want anyone poking around the house with voice recording stuff and weird video imaging cameras.”

  “No, but sometimes they don’t even have to do that. Maybe it would be even better to find a medium or something.”

  “You mean one of those people like they have on talk shows that pick random audience members and badgers them about a relative with an M name or something trying to reach out and tell them they left the dryer on?”

  Her laughter had a way with lifting my own spirit. “Yeah, one of those people,” she was still laughing. “But seriously, most mediums aren’t so crazy. I think Lydia might know someone legitimate. I’ll talk to her and see what she says.”

  “Okay,” I agreed, “but don’t tell her why we want to know, please, Becky.” I looked deep into her eyes to double-emphasize my plea. “I don’t really want this going beyond you and me right now.”

  “My lips are sealed.”

  “Thank you,” I drew my arm across her shoulder in a warm hug. “For everything. I don’t know what I would have done without you this last week.”

  “That’s what I’m here for,” she squeezed me. “Even after you go back.”

  “I know, and I am there for you too, even after I go back.”

  “Good.”

  She didn’t ask about Troy after that, but my mind was never far from the butterfly-invoked state of euphoria that flooded through me at the mere thought of him. I still wasn’t ready to share the afternoon’s events with her, preferring to keep them secret and safe, as though telling would somehow curse the act of full consummation from occurring.

  I helped distract Galen and Brennan while Becky and Marty finished getting ready to go themselves, and finally around quarter after eight we left for the farm. It was just going on 8:30 when we arrived, and as we waited for the next ride, I got my first real taste of what Becky and Marty went through regularly having two little ones so close to each other in age. When they weren’t picking at each other, they were wonderful, but the moments that they left each other alone were few and far between. Becky was on her second threat to take them both home and put them to bed when the tractor came ambling back around the loop to let the previous passengers unload.

  “A tractor, a tractor!” Brennan cried.

  “I should have made them take later naps,” Becky moaned, shifting Brennan to her other hip. Galen, who insisted that I carry him, was growing heavier by the minute, and I was sure that come morning the muscles in my arms were going to be severely strained.

  “They really should award mothers with massive honors,” I noted, readjusting the toddler in my arms.

  “Yes, they should,” Marty laughed. “I know I would nominate Becky for every honor and award they had.” His compliment touched her, and the smile she responded with, though meant to be secret, showed me the romantic side of Becky at work in her own life. It was no wonder she saw princes on white stallions and blissfully happy endings in everyone’s future—she had her very own Prince Charming right beside her every day.

  “I have to admit though, this is actually a rare evening out,” Marty added. “The
y’re behaving really well.”

  “That is true,” Becky agreed. “For as late as it is, they are both being exceptionally good. Let’s hope it stays that way.”

  “I wanna ride that tractor,” Galen pointed in the direction of the tractor, which paused to let off the first round of passengers. Spirals of smoke touted from the stack, rough gray against the black sky.

  “We will,” Marty reached over and tousled his hair. “We just have to wait our turn.” As he started to squirm, I was grateful that Marty took over, and lifted him out of my arms.

  The tractor chugged forward and started to crawl toward us, exciting several of the other small kids in the crowd. While I’d never have admitted it to anyone else, I was a little excited myself. I’d heard songs on the country radio stations about women finding farm equipment sexy, but I’d certainly never expected to count myself among them until I caught sight of Troy behind the wheel. There was something incredibly powerful about it, the smoke and rumbling engine, and I could tell it was going to taunt my fantasies in the future.

  Equally happy to see that we’d made it, Troy’s face lit up, and he gestured for one of the guys taking money at the entrance to come over and take his place. He climbed down and sidled up to us, much to the excited cries of both Galen and Brennan.

  “Troy, it’s Troy!”

  “I hope you don’t mind,” he slipped an almost possessive arm around my waist and I leaned back into his chest. I breathed in diesel fumes mixed with autumn damp, both mixed with whatever laundry detergent he used and clung to the hooded flannel he wore in a strange, but intoxicating way. “I’m gonna ride along with you guys and play the spectator this time around.”

  “Like we’d mind,” I nudged him playfully.

  “Yeah really,” Marty chimed in. “Thanks for inviting us out.”

  “Hey Troy, can I come and see your chickens today?” Galen asked.

  “Not today, buddy. It’s too dark, but maybe sometime during the week your mom could bring you over to see them.”

  His excited cheer was muffled by Becky’s promise to take him up on his offer.

  One by one we began to climb up into the scattered bales of hay that littered the trailer. Troy fell into a seat and tugged me down so I was nestled tight between him and Becky. Crowds of people, families with kids, teenagers on dates, all piled into the cart until we were snugly packed against the damp chill of the autumn night.

  Troy wrapped his arms around me and leaned close to my ear, whispering, “I didn’t think tonight was ever gonna get here.” The surprise of his facial hair against my neck sent a thrill of shivers rushing through me as the tractor surged forward.

  “It was a long day,” I admitted, pressing my back against his chest. “You know my dad came home about ten minutes after you left,” I raised my eyebrow as I glanced back at him.

  His face seemed to flush pink at the mention of our near miss. “That could have been awkward.”

  I nodded, “He says we’re the talk of the town. Everyone wants to know what’s going on, what we’re up to.”

  He leaned outward to look me over in question. “Let them talk.”

  “They will whether I let them or not,” I pointed out.

  He snuck his tickling fingers across my waist in search of my hand, and then he tangled our fingers together. It felt good to be so close to him again, and my mind flashed back to the memory of him standing in the doorway of my bedroom on his phone, shirtless, hand rested half-closed over the soft patch of golden hair that trailed into the top of his unbuttoned jeans.

  “Do you have any plans for later?” he asked.

  “Just going home and going to bed,” I admitted.

  “Now, that sounds like a plan,” he whispered, his lips brushing softly against my ear. I could feel him smiling against my cheek, and it spread warmth all through me.

  “Well, I would invite you to join me, but there’s that whole thing about staying in my parents’ home.”

  “Maybe I should invite you back to my place, then?”

  The shock of his suggestion raked across the coals of the fire he’d lit in me earlier, and I turned my head quickly to check his expression. He looked away at first, as though embarrassed by his own proposal, but I caught the sly movement of his lips just before his eyes met mine.

  I swallowed quickly and said, “Maybe you should.”

  He nuzzled his cheek against mine again; the sensation of his unshaven skin against mine sent prickling fits of desire through me that were so powerful I actually shivered. “What do you say?”

  I felt like the whole world was watching us, but we already approached the first stage and were an invisible corner of the crowd. Not even Becky tuned into us, and I was glad. It seemed to make the game we were playing even more exciting.

  “Will you spend the night with me?”

  He leaned outward again so I could turn my gaze to meet with his. I nodded slightly, “I’d like that.”

  “Me too,” he said.

  As much as I had been looking forward to experiencing the hayride, my attention was elsewhere after his proposal. I simply soaked in his presence and enjoyed the warmth of his arms around me while I listened with a longing I hadn’t ever experienced before to Becky explaining that the skeletons were just pretend to her little boy. I watched the moon weave in and out of the clouds, and thought about what it might feel like to be someone’s mother. When I looked over at Becky, both boys moved in and put their arms around her, as if clinging to her very being would make all the wrongs in the world all right.

  Hadn’t I felt that way about my own mother as a little girl?

  My first memory of Halloween was a similar excursion. We’d gone to the local farm to pick pumpkins and the people working the stand dressed up in costumes. I vaguely remembered being afraid to walk over to the pumpkin I really wanted out of fear. She knelt down and took my hand to explain that they were just people dressed up in costumes because Halloween was the one time of year that a person could dress up to be anything else in the world that they wanted to be. I could still hear her laughter when I asked her why people wanted to be skeletons and vampires, but she hadn’t laughed at me, just my observation.

  I glanced around the cart, little girls with their daddies, boys holding their mothers’ hands, and as Troy gave me an affectionate squeeze, I wondered what he was thinking about, and whether or not he had any hopes for a family in the future, or dreams of being a father one day, despite the rocky relationship he had with his own father.

  It was fun to watch their faces, the fear and realization that it wasn’t real, the moments of surprise and laughter as they leaned in to whisper some funny thought or secret observation to the parent beside them. I glanced over at Becky and Marty, both seemed to be more occupied with their kids’ reactions than the actual show outside the cart, and while just a couple of months earlier I might have thought something like that an inconvenience, now I wondered how much more exciting it life would be through a child’s eyes if that child were your own.

  And it wasn’t just Troy, or the romance building between us. Despite my tangled emotions I knew I wasn’t ready for anything as serious as that with him, or anyone else for that fact. Thinking about my mother, about how many times she said as long as I was happy, she was happy, or bragged about her big, smarty-pants writer daughter working for the city paper…

  Was that what parenthood was all about? Living and dreaming through your children?

  For the first time in my life, I wondered if that was one of the great secrets of being a mother.

  “What are you daydreaming about?” Troy left a soft kiss on my cheek.

  I shook my head, “The future.”

  It was as simple as that. There were no strings attached to it, no immediacy about it. I just realized for the first time that there were children in my future. There must be, because despite all the differences between us, despite my career minded goals and lack of enthusiasm about scrapbooking and baking homemade a
pple dumplings, my mother taught me that to be a mother was the greatest joy in the world. And while I hadn’t known anything for certain about my life since I that that job in the city, I suddenly knew in my heart that someday I wanted to be someone’s mother.

  I almost laughed out loud at myself, and how funny the mind worked. One minute I couldn’t keep my mind off of Troy half dressed in a doorway, and the next I was daydreaming about motherhood. Whether there was any connection between the two hardly mattered, but I still couldn’t help grinning a little stupidly about the whole tangled mess inside my head.

  After we circled back to the entrance and unloaded, I promised Becky I’d meet them at the car in a minute while Troy and I sorted out the details of our plans.

  “So, do you want me to just meet you back here?”

  “The last run should be over around ten-thirty, so you can do that,” he drew inward and kissed the top of my head.

  “I’ll see you then,” I stepped back, squeezing his forearm before letting him go.

  As I slid into the car, Becky turned back to eye me with suspicious glee. “What was that all about?”

  “Oh, we’re meeting up when he finishes the last run.”

  “And what color did you want your bridesmaids to wear? I can give you a list of colors I don’t look good in if you’d like.”

  “Rebecca!” Marty scolded with a snort of laughter.

  “Oh, it’s all right, Marty,” I latched the lap belt into its buckle. “She’s got our whole future all mapped out. Kids, the white picket fence, you name it. What were our dogs names again, Becky?”

  “That’s enough.”

  “She’s a sucker for everyone else’s romance,” he sighed.

  “She is, isn’t she?”

  “All right you two, stop talking about me like I’m not here.” She turned back in her seat with a joyful smirk and added, “How am I supposed to help it that I can take one look at a couple and tell whether or not they’re meant to be together.”

  “Next thing you know, she’ll be on Oprah, hired out as a relationship psychic, or something,” Marty teased.