Her Mother's Daughter (31 page)

“I had a couple of beers.”

“More than a couple, I'd say. Were you down at that old quarry? I've told you how dangerous it is down there.”

Tansy wanted him to shut up so she could run upstairs, close the door, and lie on her bed in the dark remembering what Bobby had done to her.

She heard her mother's voice in the hall. “She's home now, Jack. Let her go up to bed.”

Her father let her go by. As she ran up the stairs she heard him say to her mother, “Why can't she be like Bay? We never had this kind of trouble with her.”

“Now, Jack…”

Tansy slammed her bedroom door and fell on her unmade bed. She buried her face in the blankets until she could hardly breathe, then rolled over, stared at the ceiling, and hugged herself. “Bobby,” she whispered. “Bobby.”

She got up to look in the mirror, pressed her lips with her fingers and remembered how his tongue had felt inside her mouth. Her hands touched her body where he had touched her body, but the hollow ache she felt inside would never be filled unless he was with her again.

Tansy was exhausted the next morning; she'd tossed and turned until the sun came up. Her head ached from all that stupid beer. Her father was right on that score. Slipping on her bathrobe, she opened her door and crossed the hall to the bathroom. The door was locked and the shower was on.

She pounded on the door. “Bay!”

“I'm in the shower.”

“No shit. Unlock the door, I need to pee.”

The door clicked. Tansy opened it in time to see Bay's arm disappear behind the shower curtain. Tansy pushed the door closed behind her but it didn't catch. No matter. She sat on the john.

“What time did you roll in?”

“I have no clue.”

“Did you go to the quarry?”

“Yeah.”

“Don't you guys get sick of hanging around down there?”

“What else is there to do in this godforsaken town?”

“You make it sound like you live in Siberia.”

“I might as well be.”

Tansy reached behind and grabbed some toilet paper. When she flushed Bay screeched as the water went cold. “Don't do that, you idiot.”

Tansy washed her hands. “Sorry.”

“No, you're not. You do it every time.”

“One of these days you'll miss these endearing little rituals.”

“Don't count on it.”

Tansy shut the bathroom door behind her and went downstairs to the kitchen. Her mother was in her usual spot in front of the kitchen stove, with her apron on.

“Morning.” Tansy plunked herself down on the nearest kitchen chair.

“Want some oatmeal?”

“Mom, when have I ever wanted oatmeal?”

Her mother put a tray of tea biscuits in the oven and turned on the timer. “You used to love it as a kid.”

“I'm not a kid anymore.”

Now her mother busied herself taking juice out of the fridge and poured it into a glass. She passed it to Tansy. “Is that why you think you can gallivant around town with ruffians and guzzle beer until two in the morning?”

“Don't start.”

“Your father's right. You're too young—”

“Mom, I'm seventeen. I'm not a baby.” Tansy drank her juice and wiped the side of her mouth. “Besides, everyone else is allowed to go out with their friends. I don't know what Dad's problem is.”

“He's concerned about you and so am I. You know…”

Tansy tuned her out. Her mother continued to walk around the kitchen, wiping a glass here and a plate there, talking the entire time. She had beans in a strainer that needed to be snapped, and a large pot of glass jars boiling away at the back of the stove, almost ready for the strawberry jam she'd made earlier that morning. How she could do all that and still have the energy to give her a lecture boggled Tansy's mind. She figured it was a mom thing.

“…and Flo told me that you were at the top of the street one night, necking away with that Jamison boy. You need to be careful, young lady. You could get a reputation.”

Tansy grunted. “Not difficult in this boring town.”

Her mother took a bowl and a box of Cheerios out of the cupboard and put them in front of Tansy. She reached down and took Tansy's chin in her hand. “It doesn't matter where you live. Life is what you make it.”

Then off she went to stir a bowl of batter.

Tansy poured some Cheerios in the bowl and knew she was going to make her life as exciting as possible. She just had to track down Bobby to do it.

The trouble was, it was next to impossible to find him.

Like all strapping young lads, he was busy from morning to night, and since he was four years older than her, he didn't hang out with her crowd. Her only chance was maybe another night at the quarry, or seeing him down by the wharf on a late summer evening. After a while her friends were fed up with her, because she never wanted to do anything but hang around and wait for something to happen.

She did see him on a few occasions, always with a crowd around him. They talked and laughed, but it was never alone. He always seemed glad to see her, but it ended there. The only thing that made her feel better was that he never seemed to be with a girl. He spent most of his time laughing with his cronies.

Finally, on Labour Day weekend, there was going to be a big bonfire on the beach at the edge of town. A last hurrah to summer, as kids headed back to university or out West or took jobs in Sydney. People started to gather around nine in the evening, and by eleven the party was jumping.

Tansy sat on the hood of a car and pretended to have fun, but her radar was on the road that led to the water. Every time car headlights showed up, she'd wait to see who approached, but it was never him. She'd about given up when she saw him come out of the dark with a couple of boys she didn't know.

Her heart did a flip in her chest and she realized almost too late that she wasn't breathing. She needed to calm down. Bobby walked up to the fire and greeted everyone with his cheerful smile. He glanced at her for a moment and acknowledged her with a wave of his hand, but then grabbed a beer and talked to his buddies.

By midnight she knew she had to do something; her curfew was one at the very latest. She made her way over to him and slid her arm around his waist. He looked down and gave her a squeeze.

“Hey, Tansy, how's it going?”

“Good. Can we talk?”

“Sure.” Bobby motioned with his beer bottle to his friends. “Sorry, guys, I need to talk to the lady.”

His friends made appreciative noises and one of them yelled, “Can't you talk to me too?!” They laughed as Bobby led her away.

“Don't mind them,” he smiled. “They're joking. So how've ya been? I haven't seen you around.”

“I've been busy.”

“Well, it's good to see you.”

They walked towards the edge of the beach.

“Can we sit down?” she asked.

“If you like.” He took off his jacket and placed it on the dune grass for her to sit on. He sat beside her and put his arm around her again. “Are you sure you're not too cold? Don't you want to sit by the fire?”

“No. I want to be right here with you.”

“I'm flattered.”

“Are you seeing someone?”

“You mean do I have a girlfriend?”

“Yeah.”

“No, I don't.”

“Why not?”

“You could say I'm a loner.”

Tansy's eyes widened. “A loner? The only time I ever see you, you've got a crowd of people around you.”

“Doesn't matter who's around you. It's a state of being.”

“Oh.” Tansy was unsure what he meant.

“I just live day to day. Life is an adventure.”

“It's not much fun around here.”

“Oh, I don't know about that.” He looked out over the water. “I love it here.”

Tansy couldn't wait anymore. “Bobby?”

“Yes?”

“Please kiss me.”

He smiled before he reached over and did as she asked. It was slow and almost lazy, soft and warm. If it was possible, it was better than before. He took his time as he pushed her back onto the grass and lay on top or her. Everything was in slow motion after that. She pulled at his shirt until she got her hands underneath and felt the hard muscles in his back. When he pressed down and moved his body against hers, it was as if she'd melted into the ground and become one with that dark velvet night.

He reached down to unbutton her jeans. She tried to help him. And that's when he groaned and let his head drop, as if he'd remembered something.

“Don't stop. Please don't stop.”

He looked at her. “How old are you?”

“What difference does that make?”

“It makes a big difference.”

“I'm almost eighteen. I'm old enough.”

“Not quite.” He rolled away from her and lay on his back.

She was desperate. “I'll never tell anyone. No one has to know.”

“I'd know.”

She got up on her elbows. “Don't you like me?”

He sat up and rearranged his shirt. “Sure I do. You're a sweet kid.”

“I'm not a kid.”

He stood and reached his hand towards her. “Come on, now. Let's go back the party.”

Taking her hand, he pulled her up and then reached down for his jacket and put it over her shoulders. He put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head, as if she were a little girl.

Tansy wanted to die.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Bay and Gertie were in the kitchen helping Bay's mother slice up a whole tub full of small cucumbers so she could make bread-and-butter pickles. They had an assembly line going. One washed, one peeled, and one sliced.

“Once we have enough,” Liz said, “we have to put some rock salt in the bowl.”

“What does that do?” Gertie wanted to know.

“You leave it overnight and the salt draws the water from the cucumbers. That way you'll get a crisper pickle.”

“How did you learn this stuff?” Bay asked.

“My mother, of course,” Liz said. “She had me making pickles by the time I was ten years old. There wasn't anything she couldn't do. She won first place for her pickles and chow every year at the fall fair. But I'll never forget the year Mr. Greer entered his pickled beets as a lark, and didn't he win. My mother was heartbroken.” Liz smiled at the memory. “My dad took us out for ice cream that night to try and cheer her up.” She shook her head. “Silly things you remember.”

Bay and Gertie grinned at each other.

Bay's dad came in the back door. He held out a nail and a drill bit. “Bay, could you run down to the hardware store and get me a pound of three-inch galvanized nails and a one-and-a-quarter-inch drill bit? I'm in the middle of something out there and I want to finish it before dark.”

“Sure. I need money, though. How much will it be?”

Her mother pointed at her purse. “I have a ten in my wallet. Take that.”

“I'll stay here and help your mom,” Gertie said.

Bay wiped her hands on a tea towel and went to get the money. Her father gave her the nail and the drill bit. “Show these to Burt and he'll know what to give you, but make sure they're galvanized nails.”

“Okay.”

“Thanks.” Out he went back to the shed.

Bay was almost out the door when her mother said, “Put a sweater on. It's cold out.”

Bay took her sweater off the hook in the back porch and put it on as she ran down the back steps. It was one of those September days that made her glad to be alive. Fall was in the air. It smelled like black earth and leaves and McIntosh apples. The air was crisp, and on days like this the light made the far shore past the lighthouse look close enough to touch.

She almost wished she had a skipping rope. This was the time of year little kids headed back to school and sat in their classrooms looking out the window, longing for the dismissal bell to ring. Skipping ropes made her think of thick sidewalk chalk, and hopscotch, and the smell of crayons and Elmer's glue.

“What are you grinnin' about, girlie?” Eldon shouted from his front porch.

“Nothin', Eldon. Need anything at the hardware store?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. A couple of twenty-amp fuses. Here, I'll give you the money.”

“I have enough. I'll catch you on the way back.”

Eldon raised his hand in thanks.

It was a ten-minute walk, and by the time she got to the store, her cheeks were red from the biting wind and her hair was every which way. The bell tinkled on her way in as she entered a world inhabited by men. Paint cans and tools and brown bags full of nails and screws and washers seemed to be everywhere. Burt was at the back of the store talking to two men who held a piece of equipment, so instead of interrupting him she slowly went up and down the aisles looking for the proper size of drill bit. She picked up packages and measured them against the one she held, because she couldn't remember if her dad said one-and-a-half-inch or one-and-a-quarter.