A Notion of Love (11 page)

I could be chipper and perky and hide the real me deep inside, for now.

A week passed and Justin avoided the
café. Dodge still came out every morning, and I had to forcibly restrain myself from begging him to tell me what Justin was doing, how he looked, if he was as miserable as me. Only Gran noticed his absence, and made a point of asking me, which clued me in on the fact that she hadn't missed anything either. I wouldn't go so far as to say she knew we'd made love…but she knew something was up. She was Louisa Davis, the most observant woman I'd ever known, other than myself.

“The boy hasn't been out with you all week,” she observed to Dodge just this morning, and he'd shrugged good-naturedly.

“He's been out of sorts,” Dodge allowed, finishing his coffee with a flourish while Gran trained her suspicious gaze on me, where I'd been refilling the coffee maker and eavesdropping.

“Out of sorts, huh?” my gran had responded, while I cringed internally and tried to appear busy.

“Yeah,” Dodge said, and I heard the note of worry in his voice. My heart sank. I had been a wreck, at least internally, all week. Clinty had no idea; he was finishing up the last two weeks of his freshman year of high school, and basically oblivious to anything other than the fact that summer vacation loomed on the horizon like an oasis of unimaginable beauty. I had been so close to calling Justin that my insides ached; I had even gotten behind the wheel of my car to drive to his house last night, the house he'd shared with Aubrey for all of their marriage and where he now lived alone, and had for the past three years.
Justin, Justin
. Stubbornness and pride prevented me from driving over and beating down his door.

The only thing that had kept me going this week was the thought that Jo and the kids would be here tonight. I couldn't wait to see her. At that moment my cell buzzed and I plucked it from my apron pocket, noticing that it was my sister, as though sensing my need for her presence.

“We just left Milwaukee,” she told me as I answered. She sounded exhausted and depleted.

“Yay!” I told her, not even having to force cheer into my tone. I was that glad that they were already on the second leg of their journey. “Drive safe and we'll leave the lights on for you.”

She giggled a little; I could hear the girls in the car, bickering about something, and the radio in the background. She said, “I can't wait, Jilly Bean.”

“Me, neither,” I told her. I looked over and saw Gran beckoning for the phone. “Jo, Gran wants to say hi, too.” I handed over my phone, glad that Gran would be occupied and therefore unable to grill me about Justin.

Dodge had finished his coffee and ruffled my hair with affection. Justin looked more like his mother than Dodge but he reminded me of Justin enough that my heart ached again. I wanted to burrow against his warm, comforting side and confess that I loved his boy with all of my heart and most of my soul. I was astounded by the strength of my feelings, now that I'd finally acknowledged them. Surely I was resonating at some perceptible level, like a tuning fork.

“See you later, honey,” Dodge said. “Lou, you too.”

Gran waved, still on the phone with Jo, and I went back to work, determined to make the day pass quickly and get my sister here.

Evening came and went; Clint rode his bike into town for a ballgame, arriving back at Shore Leave in time for a late supper. The Saturday traffic was still light this time of year, since the tourist season wasn't yet in full swing, and by nine the place was empty but for us. Rich and Bly had the kitchen spotless, but they were both lingering; Rich to greet Jo and Blythe for the same reason, though no one but me was aware. He had been uncharacteristically silent all evening, taut with nervous energy. After he'd broken a glass I took pity on him and ordered, “Why don't you go grab a beer. I'll get the garbage out.”

He looked gratefully at me and nodded. Dammit, I didn't want him to hurt my sister, however inadvertently. But he was so sweet in his own way, and I had to admit I adored him. Maybe Jo would be too distracted by Jackson's cheating ass and her own problems to take notice. My eyes skimmed over Blythe's huge shoulders as he headed towards Ellen, who was restocking the beer fridge.
Fat fucking chance
, I thought, and rolled my eyes at myself.

“Ma, where's Clinty?” I asked, coming out of the kitchen bearing a heaping bag of garbage.

“He and Gran went up to bed,” she told me. “Poor kid could barely keep his eyes open.”

“Shit, he'll be disappointed,” I said, banging out the screen door. I walked over behind the garage and was stuffing the bag into the dumpster when headlights beamed across the parking lot. My heart began thumping in excitement and I shrieked, “Mom! Aunt Ellen, everybody, THEY'RE HERE!”

Jo parked and the girls tumbled out and raced at me, hooting and laughing. They caught me at the edge of the parking lot and we tumbled over and into a heap. Chester and Chief were going apeshit, leaping on us; Chester caught hold of Tish's shorts and began tugging her. She laughed and shoved at his big wet nose as Mom, Rich and Aunt Ellen flooded outside to wrap Joelle into their arms. I noticed that Blythe had not been bold enough to venture after them. I hugged my nieces tightly, loving the scent of their girly perfume and flowery hair products; they smelled like Jo and me, once upon a time. I managed to extract myself from them and then bolted across the parking lot and launched myself at my sister.

She hugged me tightly, still taller than me by a good three inches. I clung to her, breathing in her particular scent, familiar to me as my own, or my son's. The girls were passed around for hugs, everyone chattering at once.

I drew back from Jo and studied her for a moment; she was so beautiful, even if she wouldn't believe me if I said so anymore. She'd been spurned, and Jackie had taken up with a younger woman, and no one could convince Jo that this was anything but commentary on her desirability. But as she stood there and regarded me with her golden-green eyes, her soft lips with a fond smile, I knew Blythe was going to eat his heart out when he saw her.
Shit
. Trouble, that's what that was, and she was about to walk right into it, totally unknowing. Jo had let her hair grow out long again, making her look more like her teenage self than ever. It was soft and golden-blond, hanging over her shoulders. She wore a faded blue t-shirt with what was probably a coffee stain on the lower front, faded blue jeans; her feet were bare. I knew she thought she looked terrible, but all I could see was what Blythe would: a lovely woman who still had a knock-out bod, and whose husband had cheated. Someone who might possibly need a little convincing that she was still sexy.

Tish was asking me, “Aunt Jilly, where's Clint?”

To silence my worried mind, I grabbed Tish in a headlock and gave her scalp a thorough knuckling. I told her, “Not here, punk. He must not care that you guys were coming.” Of course she knew this was a total lie.

Minutes later Ellen had hustled the kids inside and Rich took his leave. I joined Jo at the porch rail, where she leaned for a moment, drinking in the familiar sights to comfort her soul. I knew the feeling. I leaned on my elbows beside her and she tipped her head to my shoulder for a moment.

“You okay?” I murmured. I knew we'd have a good talk after everyone else went to bed.

She lifted her head and sighed, but then asked, “Rich's grandson? He doesn't have any kids, does he?”

Here we go
. I said, “Actually it's his stepdaughter Christy's son. You remember her, don't you?”

“Yeah, I guess, vaguely.” She thought a moment. “Boobs and big hair, like 1978, right?”

“Yeah, that's her. She stayed with him and Pam that summer. Crap, it seems like a million years ago now,” I said, and sighed a little too. “Anyway, she had a kid, and now he's staying with Rich in his trailer, even though Pam's gone. Mom hired him to help in the kitchen this summer.” And finally, “He's actually here now, having a beer.”

“Dammit,” my sister muttered, and I could sense her annoyance at him infringing on her homecoming. Her eyebrows drew together and she demanded, “Is he even old enough to drink?”

“Yeah, he's in his twenties,” I told her. And then, because she had to know, “And he was in jail.”

Jo's head snapped around and she stared at me with her eyebrows now raised in shock. She asked, breathlessly, “What?”

“Seriously, I freaked a little too, but Rich insists he's a good kid,” I said, purposely using that word, though Bly was the furthest thing from a kid I'd ever seen. I didn't tell her how sweet he was, or gorgeous, or how much we all liked him. Maybe she wouldn't notice these things. I saw then that she was truly upset and said quickly, “He stole a car and some cash in Oklahoma, two years ago.”

I watched as Jo looked back at the café and could almost hear her thoughts churning. She whispered, “Jilly, what was she thinking?”

At that I couldn't help but laugh, so glad to have her here beside me on the porch again. I was going to do everything in my power to keep her here forever. I ran my hands through my hair and squeezed her arm, teasing, “It's not like you have to whisper, Jo. I don't think he has superhero senses.”

Mom climbed the porch steps now, and Jo wasted no time rounding on her, snapping, “Mom, how could you?”

Mom didn't immediately answer, reaching into the front pocket of her overalls to extract her smokes. She passed one to me, lit her own, and then handed over the lighter. I lit one and blew smoke over the railing, ready to act as referee. Finally she said, “Honestly, Jo, he's a good kid. Do you think Ellen or I would've hired him if we didn't think so?”

“Because of Rich,” Jo bitched at our mother. “You couldn't say no to him, you know it.”

Mom shook her head and I elbowed Jo, telling her to cool it. Mom bitched back, “Rich wouldn't have taken him in, even in honor of Pamela's memory, if he thought Bly was dangerous. Criminy, Joelle.”

Jo turned to me and asked, “Bly?”

“His name is Blythe,” I supplied, blowing smoke through my nostrils. Mom went inside without responding further, annoyed at Jo within the first fifteen minutes of her being here. Well, that was expected. I was dreading the moment when Mom would start to trot out the whole ‘why you should still be with your husband' argument. As the screen door clacked shut, I couldn't resist teasing my sister, saying, “And she's wrong, he is dangerous.”

Jo glared at me but I just smiled around the filter in my lips. I heard the girls chattering with excitement and followed after Mom, informing over my shoulder, “The girls are meeting him right now.”

Jo hotfooted it after me. I heard Ellen saying, “Girls, this is Rich's grandson,” as I popped around the arch into the bar. Blythe's eyes flashed immediately to me, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously. I would have bet his hands were sweating. He realized it was me and I could almost hear his thoughts:
No, that's not who I was waiting for
. And then Jo came around the corner, her cheeks flushed, and I continued to watch Bly, who looked for a moment as though someone had just punched him in the gut, hard. Jo stopped as though she'd just come up against a glass wall. I sighed internally as I watched several things pass over her features before she looked away, fast, her cheeks flaming even brighter. Camille, Tish and Ruthie were still chattering, vying for Blythe's attention, and Mom was telling him something, so he looked back at our mother, a smile playing over his mouth. I hoped that no one else noticed the flush that had crept into his cheeks too. Fuck, that was fast. But what had I expected?

Aunt Ellen took charge, saying, “Honey, this is Rich's grandson, Blythe Tilson. Bly, dear, meet my niece, Joelle Gordon. She's just in from Chicago.”

Blythe's eyes were drawn back to Jo's face like a magnet to its mate. He said, “Hi,” and reached to shake her hand. I had the impression he would have shoved everyone out of the way to get to her, though he was playing it cool.

“Hi,” my sister responded, her voice low and throaty. She added, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he said, sounding so polite and yet I could hear the notes of wonder in his tone. He seemed to gather himself together and said, still looking at Jo, “Well, Joan, Ellen, I better head home, let you have some family time.”

Joelle stared after him wordlessly as everyone else trailed him to the door. When she turned back to me, where I had perched on a barstool, she blinked and then sank to the seat beside mine as Bly called back to us, “Have a good night, ladies. Good to meet you, Joelle.”

I inched my own seat closer to her and said, totally resigned, “Told you so.”

***

By the
time I went to bed that night, in the smallest of the wee hours, I wanted Justin so much I could hardly even bear the thought of lying in my bed alone. From his room, Clint was snoring like a lumberjack; I knew if I were to peek in on him, he'd be positioned on his back, right arm flung up over his head, exactly like Chris used to sleep. And just like his father, all I had to do to quiet the snores was lower that arm, but I didn't bother my son. Instead I went to my tiny kitchen and poured myself a vodka and lemonade, then sat at the table and proceeded to caress my cell phone and debate calling Justin.

Damn him.
He was stubborn as hell, doing this to me, keeping away in a long-distance equivalent of the silent treatment. But then again, I could take the bull by the horns and tell him how I felt. I imagined for a moment, in the darkness of my apartment, lit only by the dim green glow of the microwave clock, driving over to his house and telling him so. I played out what would happen next, from his stunned face to his own words of love, and then he'd pull me into his arms and I'd tear off every stitch of clothing he was wearing, which probably wasn't much since I doubted he slept in anything but boxers in this weather…oh my God, I wanted to rip those from his body with my teeth…and then we'd make love on every horizontal surface in his house.