Maine Squeeze (28 page)

So at dawn I tiptoed out of the house. I took my bike instead of the car. It was a misty, cloudy, humid morning, and I could feel my clothes becoming damp as I rode.

I wanted to bring Betty something to eat—I'd promised I'd drop by with something for breakfast. But I couldn't cook, I hadn't baked, and I couldn't go to the Landing and see Haley—I was too embarrassed. Also, I didn't want to be yelled at by her for being with Evan.

I dropped by the general store and browsed through the rack of Drake's baked products. Hm. Would Betty like Devil Dogs or Ring Dings for breakfast?

“Colleen!” Aunt Sue's voice rang out behind me. “What are you doing up and about so early?”

“I'm going to visit Betty,” I said.

“Well, isn't that sweet of you. I'd heard you two had become buddies,” she said.

I couldn't quite picture Betty ever referring to herself as anyone's “buddy.” She was a bit too curmudgeonly for that.

“I actually was hoping to pick up something to eat. She always makes tea for me, so—”

“Why don't you take her a couple of muffins? No, wait. I'm out of muffins.” Aunt Sue tapped her chin as she thought. “How about a lemon-blueberry pound cake?”

“Yum. That sounds great. But did you have plans for it?” I asked.

“No, don't be silly. Now come on.” She paid for her half gallon of milk and we walked down the road to her house, which was only a quarter mile away or so. I walked my bike beside her.

“So, anything new?” she asked.

“Not really.” I shrugged.

“Have you been riding a lot this morning?”

“No, why?”

“Your cheeks are awfully pink,” she commented.

“Oh. Well, I think I got a little too much sun yesterday,” I said as we approached her house.

“Really? What were you doing yesterday?” she asked.

Again, I could feel myself blushing, so I glanced at my watch and said, “You know, I really should get going. Betty's expecting me, so …” That wasn't the truth, but I didn't see how that little white lie could hurt anyone.

“Well, just wait a second and I'll get you that cake!”

Aunt Sue hurried inside her house and came out carrying a loaf shape wrapped in aluminum foil. I put it into the wicker basket on the bike's handlebars. Maybe that was why my grandmother had put this basket on her bike—to carry Aunt Sue's pound cakes home. It fit perfectly in the basket.

“Thanks—see you later!” I called as I rode away.

I'd escaped two things: (1) Telling my aunt about sleeping with Evan, not that I would ever do that, unless someone was sticking pins into my skin, and (2) Telling my uncle I was going to see Betty, and hearing “You should paint, Colleen, why don't you paint!” for the thousandth time.

“How many blueberry recipes does your aunt know, do you think?” Betty asked as I unwrapped the aluminum foil and started to cut us some slices of pound cake.

“Twenty? Fifty? A hundred?” I guessed.

“Oh, no. Got to be at least a thousand,” she said. “She should open a bakery instead of handing it out for free all over the island. How does she even find enough berries?”

“I think she has Cap buy flats of them for her at the farmer's market near the wharf. I'm not totally sure, though.”

“Hm. Well, at least she's good at it. Everyone should be good at something. And baking is an art, just like cooking's an art. You've got to be creative.”

“Yeah, I guess you're right. I never looked at it that way,” I said.

“What, did you think you were the only one who inherited some of your grandmother's talent?” Betty asked.

I hated to admit it, but I guessed I did.

She took another bite of pound cake. “Do you know that you're sort of glowing? You look so happy today. What's new? And don't tell me it's this pound cake.”

How did these women know that I'd had sex? Was it the way my skin looked? The way my hair looked? This was not sex, this was humidity, people. A frizzone. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail. “Nothing's new,” I said.

“Has something old changed, then?”

“Uh. Um.” I didn't know what to say, or whether to say anything. I didn't confide in Betty about my love life, or at least I hadn't yet. I didn't necessarily want to start. I liked that we talked about a couple of subjects—like art, and independence, and her annoying son. Couldn't we just keep it at that? Then again, I enjoyed her take on things. Maybe it would be worth asking what she thought.

“Colleen.” She refilled my mug of tea. “I don't subscribe to a satellite dish or to the island grapevine. You know that. You could tell me you were madly in love with Pastor Cuddy and I wouldn't tell a soul.”

I burst out laughing. “It's not Pastor Cuddy!”

“Then who?”

Was it Evan? Was I in love with him? Or was it just that I'd done something I'd really wanted to do? “I don't know. Does it have to be someone? Can't it just be me?”

Betty nodded. “Sure it can.”

But I still couldn't get Evan out of my head. On my way home, I stopped by his cousin's to see if he was around.

“Hey, Colleen, nice party last night,” Jake said when he opened the door.

“Um, thanks,” I said, suddenly feeling ridiculous. Evan had come to the party with Jake. He definitely hadn't left with him. If anyone knew what went on between us, it was Jake.

“Looking for Evan? He actually went to town today,” Jake said.

“Oh. Really?” What was he doing there? Why hadn't he mentioned it to me earlier?

“Yeah. Should I tell him you were here?”

“No, that's okay.” I thought it over for a second. Didn't I want him to know I was looking for him, that I expected him to be around? “Well, yeah. Tell him I came by.”

Samantha, Erica, and I spent the afternoon at the beach. It was one of the few times we'd all been able to do that on our own. I kind of liked not spending all of my day off with Ben. I had a lot more options.

I was still feeling a little guilty, though, about the way I'd acted, about how I'd slowly but steadily pushed Ben away. On our way home, when we had to drive past his house, I mentioned it to Erica and Sam.

“Coll, look. You know as well as I know that there's no point staying with someone just because he's
nice
,” Samantha said. “Nice only gets you so far.”

“Same with charm,” I commented.

“Yeah, okay. But you and Evan had this … I don't know. Fire. Passion.”

“Which also only goes so far,” I mused.

“Unless you're not careful,” Sam added. “If you know what I mean.”

We all started laughing, and I glanced at Erica and Sam as I turned into our driveway. Did they know about me and Evan and last night? If they did, they were acting as if they didn't. I hadn't told them yet. It felt like something so private, and so strange, that I had to hold on to it myself for a while yet.

And then, as we got out of the car, we all saw it. This giant bouquet of red roses sitting in a glass vase on the porch. There must have been at least two dozen—maybe three.

That's why he went to the mainland, I thought. To get flowers. I ran over to the bouquet and plucked out the little white card.

“Are they from Ben?” Erica asked excitedly as I read the card. “Are they from Evan?”

I felt my heart sink and shook my head. “No. They're for you.” I smiled and held the vase out to Sam.

“
Me?
No way!” She read the card out loud. “‘Dear Samantha, thanks for a great vacation. I'll be thinking of you, Troy.'”

I was so happy for Sam and so overemotional myself that I felt tears filling my eyes.

Why was I hoping for something from Evan that I knew he absolutely refused to deliver? Not just flowers. A whole, intact relationship. Evan wasn't about romance, though, not in the sweet, present-giving, thoughtful way.

I went upstairs to my room and stared at the bed. Hutch was curled up at the end of the bed, on top of the blanket. I sat down next to him and petted his fur. Maybe I felt confused, I thought with a smile, but what about Hutch? How much had he seen in his lifetime, how many things had he witnessed that he didn't want to see? No wonder he'd stopped sleeping in the closet.

Maybe I should
start
sleeping in there.

I pictured Evan's body, his shoulders, his chest, the little hollow where his shoulders met his chest....

I was hopeless.

I couldn't fall asleep that night. I was too revved up. The air outside was thick with humidity, the kind of humidity where towels don't dry and everything is just heavy with dew. The sheets were sticking to me. I'd turned off the light at eleven, and it was midnight now.

I hadn't heard from Evan all day, and it was killing me. I couldn't stop thinking about him and about last night. How was he feeling about it? Had he taken off for Philadelphia on the first ferry? Or was he lying in bed at his house, feeling like this?

I wanted him to be here. And wanting that as much as I did terrified me. I didn't want to feel like this, as if my life were on hold until I saw him again. I'd thought I was past this, somehow. And yet it was more physical than emotional. I didn't need him, I realized, as much as I just wanted him.

But it was still frightening to want someone so badly. Especially Evan. Especially after last year.

I turned on my light and read for a while to make myself sleepy, to stop myself from thinking about my life. It worked. I switched off the light and was about to drift off when I heard a creaking sound. Like a hinge that wasn't quite working right. The screen porch door, I realized, sitting up in bed. We never locked our doors on the island.

I heard a cat meow outside in the hallway. And then my bedroom door opened.

In the dark, Evan made his way toward the bed. “Hey.” He sat on the edge and leaned down to kiss me. He ran his fingers down the side of my cheek.

“Hey,” I said.

“Did I wake you up?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I couldn't sleep.”

“Yeah. Me either. You know what? I really can't stay away from you,” he said.

I smiled, glad that he felt the same way I did. “Where were you?”

“Running,” he said. “I've actually been trying to stay away from you all day.”

“So, you succeeded,” I said as I pointed to the alarm clock beside my bed. It was 1:15
A.M
. “It's tomorrow now.”

“Finally.”
Evan kicked off his sandals and climbed into bed beside me.

Chapter 24

It seemed like I had been asleep for only a few minutes when I woke up again, but I guess it had been a little longer.

The weather had changed. Now the wind was blowing fiercely, and a branch kept scraping against the window. The leaves of the trees around the house were rustling in the wind, and when I glanced out the window I saw a flash of lightning in the distance. There was a low rumble of thunder.

Somehow Evan could sleep through this. Neither he nor Hutch had moved yet. Hutch was curled up at the foot of the bed—lying right on Evan's ankles, if I wasn't mistaken. So. Even Hutch was drawn to those ankles.

I gently pulled off the top sheet and quietly walked to the door. I closed it behind me and went downstairs.

Starsky hated thunderstorms. He was sitting on the kitchen counter, where he knew he wasn't supposed to be, his pupils completely black and dilated as I switched on the overhead light. “It's okay,” I whispered, rubbing his head.

I poured myself a glass of milk and stirred in a spoonful of chocolate syrup. When I sat down, I found that I was face-to-face with the infamous poster board of house rules.

I felt this nervous gnawing in my stomach that the milk wouldn't help. I was
really
breaking the rules here. My parents trusted me
so much
. They'd felt okay leaving me here for ten weeks because they did trust me, because I was almost always responsible. And now, what? My boyfriend, or whatever Evan was to me, was asleep upstairs.