A Shiver of Wonder (11 page)

The two of them climbed the steps of the
church, but the doors to the narthex were locked.

“Another time, then,” said Genevieve as,
disappointed, they retraced their steps to the street. “Can we go
to the park for a bit? Will you be too cold?”

David gave her hand a brisk squeeze. “Isn’t
it supposed to be me asking you that?”

She smiled. “I’m fine. You just have to let
me know when you’re ready to go back to the house. I was hoping
you’d want to come in for a bit.”

“Oh! Pressure’s on now. Let’s go up on the
stage! I came here a few times to see plays when I was a kid. I
always wanted to see what it looked like from up there.”

So they jumped onto the concrete stage of
the outdoor amphitheater, and David strode about, testing various
lines from various Shakespeare plays in his best stentorian
tones.

Genevieve remained silent, but eventually
pointed out to David that a group of teenagers was not so subtly
enjoying his theatrics from the audience, where they were passing
around what looked like a pair of marijuana cigarettes.

He blushed, gave one last brief oration from
Hamlet
as Genevieve hopped off the stage, and then bowed
before following her. They wended their way through the square down
to Oak Avenue, and then rested for a few minutes on the town hall
steps, watching as the moon rose slowly, slowly over the eastern
edge of Shady Grove.

“I like it here,” said David, taking her
hand again. He pulled her toward him, and she slid a few inches
closer.

“I like it here, too,” she replied. “And
look. Right there, above the tallest tree. That’s the window where
we stood, that day we met. Three weeks ago.”

“Three weeks? That’s it?” David tossed her
hand back. “Too soon, too soon. Small town rules: no holding hands
until at least six months have elapsed.”

“Ha!” She reached for him again. “My father
always said that I could start dating after I got married. But
you’d be surprised. For all that big cities have a bad reputation
for things like that, it actually occurs a lot quicker in places
like this. I’d be embarrassed to tell you how many girls in my
graduating class got pregnant their senior year.”

“Were you one of them?”

“God, no! I was the perfect-in-every-way
valedictorian.”

He snorted. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Oh, I worked for it. While everyone else
was out partying every weekend, I was the nerdy girl hitting the
books and volunteering at The Restful Nook.”

“And you still do.”

She leaned into him, pushing him to the
side. “I go now because I love to, silly. I went then because I
thought it would look good on my college applications. And it
did!”

David righted himself again. “Do you have
any dreams beyond Shady Grove? Expanding Gâteaupia, maybe? Or
opening it in a major city?”

“No,” she replied without hesitation. “Why
would I want that? Business is good, and if I need more,
you
can drum some up with that website of yours. We can knock out ten
wedding cakes a weekend! How about you?”

He shook his head. “Nah. I’ve had my big
city experience. I think I’m done with it. Or maybe it’s done with
me, I’m not sure which.”

She released his hand, and then threaded her
arm through his. “I do want more. But I want to do it here. I want
to make things better in Shady Grove.”

“Like how? A longer trolley route? More
dessert shops?”

That earned him a slap on the thigh.
“Nobody’d better
try
to open another one. I’ll eat ’em
alive!”

“I bet you would. And they’d deserve it,
too.”

“I joined the board of the business
association last year. I got someone to nominate me and ran. You’ve
been down to Easton Avenue, right?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “A little gamey. You know
I live a block away. It can get scary down there at night.”

“I know. I want to try to do something about
it, stop it from spreading into the town. Too many people are
leaving Shady Grove, though, and not enough move here like you.”
She closed her eyes. “I also want to start a support group to help…
well, people who need support. Because they’re confused sexually,
and they don’t know what to do.”

“Are
you
confused sexually?” David
asked. And then he took a breath. “And I’m sorry. That came out
really stupid. Please, go on.”

Eyes open, she flashed him a weak smile.
“No. Not me. But I know people who are. They feel… isolated, I
suppose. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a while now. You’re
only the third person I’ve told.”

“I think it’s a great idea.”

“So did Lydia and Jess.”

“Jess, your friend from back East?”

“Uh, huh.” She turned to look at him. “And
Lydia with the hummingbird on her shoulder who thinks you’re cute,
and who cooks up crazy cake names to make you smile. Do you have
any friends who aren’t straight?”

David blinked. Unbelievably, he couldn’t
think of any. Any friends, period. And beyond that, any former
friends who had been brave enough to step out of the closet. “No,”
he answered aloud. “I don’t.”

“Well, then I won’t make you go to any
meetings. If we ever get that far.” She stood. “Walk me back to my
house?”

He rose as well. “Absolutely.”

And though they only kissed and cuddled that
night, nothing further, it was a magical evening that both of them
thought of often. A perfect, enchanted few hours that nourished
their bond, and nurtured their hopes that the future might hold
similar experiences.

Similar experiences there had been, but not
in the abundance either had wished for. Still, they each made it
work.

They wanted to. They needed to.

After a couple hours of light work, David
was ready to take Johnson out for a walk. He’d built the template
for an entire series of Culpepper Mills product web pages, but all
he’d been able to think about was Clair. Clair, and the kooky
things she’d said to him.

You will know yourself, David
.

What the hell did that mean?

One day. Soon.

Wednesday? Friday? Was he about to join a
self-realization fellowship?

And Clair had almost indicated that she
did
have some sort of idea as to when she and David would
next see each other:
Maybe I do. But maybe not
.

What was with that screwy girl? And how had
Johnson known she was in the courtyard, anyway?

“Johnson!”

The dog raised its head to gaze at David.
His ears were perky, his tail wagging. He knew what time it
was.

“Johnson, how did you know Clair was there
earlier?”

Johnson barked.

“No, seriously. How did you know?”

No response. Only the eagerness of a simple
animal, ready to savor the innumerable pleasures that an excursion
about the streets of Shady Grove could offer.

“Fine. Keep it to yourself. But I’ll let you
maul an entire bully stick if you spill.” David stood up, and
grabbed Johnson’s leash off its hook. “Ready?”

But Johnson was already ahead of him. Leash
snapped on, they stepped into the common area and David closed the
door behind them.

“Hi, David.” The voice was shy,
uncertain.

He turned. “Janice. How are you?”

Janice didn’t look good. She was haggard,
her features drawn and pale. Her blond hair, usually her best
attribute, was bedraggled, appearing to have been snared in its
limp ponytail.

“I’ve had better weeks,” she said without a
hint of levity. “I tried to find you last night, but you weren’t
home.”

“No,” David answered, “I was out pretty
late. I looked for you too, yesterday afternoon. Wouldn’t blame you
for staying away, though.”

Her eyebrows lifted and then fell. “I missed
two days at Bargain Bin this week. Swapped days with someone to go
see my mother Wednesday, and then I couldn’t work Thursday ’cause
of this. Had to make ’em up. You and Johnson going out?”

“Just on a walk.”

She shifted her purse. “Mind if I tag along
for a bit? I have to get dressed to go to work again soon, but I
don’t like being in there too long.”

David nodded. “Sure. You’re always welcome
to.”

“Let me put this inside. Be out in a sec.”
She turned toward her apartment door and stepped inside.

Two minutes later, she was back. Her hair
was down, and her face had been scrubbed clean. “Didn’t realize how
crappy I looked,” she said by way of explanation. “Certainly
couldn’t show up to the The Hot Spot like that. Gonna have to pile
on the makeup tonight.”

“Long shift?” David asked as they headed
through the lobby, Johnson in the lead.

“The usual for Sunday. Six to ten. This
morning was rough, after a Saturday six to midnight.”

“Rough week overall,” he commented as they
turned right onto Piston.

“Yeah. Shitty. Totally.”

They walked in silence then for a few
minutes. Janice’s footsteps were hurried, almost frantic, and David
slowed his pace a jot, realizing that she’d probably always had to
walk like this, her legs being quite a bit shorter than the average
person’s. She didn’t glance over at him even once, just stared
straight ahead of her as she plowed forward.

At Third Street, she veered left, and David,
who would normally head north or go straight here, followed. After
a brief second of confusion, Johnson was back in front again.

“Do you – ” David began to say. But Janice
had started to speak simultaneously. “You first,” he said with a
smile.

“You didn’t grow up with money, did you?”
she asked.

He considered. “I wouldn’t exactly say that.
My folks were up and down. Sometimes we’d be skipping out in the
middle of the night, sometimes they were so flush it seemed like
the money would never run out. But it usually did. Why?”

“You’re a little off sometimes. Though I
don’t mean that bad. You fit in, but you’re educated. You’re nicer
than most people who’re educated. I just wanted to know, is
all.”

They turned right onto Easton, and David was
reminded yet again of why he and Johnson didn’t come down here too
often. Broken bottles littered the gutters, the front lawns of
decaying apartment buildings were brown, the street itself looked
as if it hadn’t been paved in decades.

“I like the park up here,” Janice said.
“It’s a nice place to just sit sometimes.”

David kept his reaction off his face. The
only park on Easton was Denby Pocket Park, a civic renewal project
that had probably needed renewing itself within weeks of its grand
opening. “You don’t like the public square?” he asked.

“You mean that chichi park in uptown? No.
It’s too big, and I always feel like I don’t belong there. Saw a
show once in that theater they got with one of my friends from
work, but neither of us could understand a single thing they were
saying, so we left.”

David couldn’t help but smile. The Shady
Grove Elizabethan Players was an amateur acting society that put on
free performances several nights each summer. They were amusing to
watch not only for the plays, but for the familiar hams who
invariably emoted as if they were strutting the boards on
Broadway.

“See? It’s just like the garden back at our
building. The right size for a park, and lots of places to sit,
too.”

David took in the desolation of Denby Pocket
Park. There
was
plenty of seating, mostly because there were
more concrete benches than grassy areas. Two street people were
camped in a corner eating their supper out of cans, and at the far
end was a huddle of scrawny men, clearly taking care of some sort
of iniquitous business.

Janice’s pace didn’t slow, for which David
was grateful. The last thing he wanted to do this afternoon was to
sit a spell on Easton Avenue while Johnson whimpered because he
wasn’t allowed to go off leash.

They began to cross Second Street.

“Heck came down here a lot,” Janice said.
“When he was in town.”

David thought it best not to reply.

She glanced over at him. “I’m not an idiot.
I know what he did. I never had nothin’ to do with it, though.”

He cleared his throat. “I never would have
thought so, Janice. And from what I read in the papers, the police
didn’t, either.”

“The police!” she spat out. “That oaf who
looks like he slid right out of a magazine so his shit don’t stink.
Someone should go off him, see how many folks miss
his
bull
crap!”

David grinned. He’d had a feeling that
Janice wouldn’t have developed a fondness for Detective Ormsby.

“At least it didn’t get out what Heck did to
me,” she said in a gentler tone. “I appreciate that. You not sayin’
anything and all.”

“I would have had to answer if he’d asked
specific questions,” David replied. “But he didn’t.”

She nodded. “Bill left it alone, too.”

“He said he helped you clean up. Was it…
awful?”

She emitted a sound that was a cross between
a snort and a snicker. “You mean, did it suck, mopping up my
boyfriend’s blood and brains off the kitchen floor? Yeah. Bill did
all the heavy stuff. I just tried not to cry while I handed him
things.”

David drew a long breath as they turned
right on First to head north. “Do you… I mean, what happened was
terrible. But is there a part of you that… that…”

“That’s glad Heck died?” she finished for
him. “Don’t worry, David. You’re not the first to ask.
Yes
,
there’s this part of me that’s happy. A very small part. But if it
wasn’t Heck, it would’ve been someone else.”

“You mean, doing that to you?”

She shot him a hard look. “Guys have always
beat on me, David. Startin’ with my Dad and my brothers. Maybe it’s
the size thing, maybe it’s my hair or my mouth. I don’t know, I’m
just used to it, I guess. If they didn’t hit me once in a while,
I’d probably start to worry.”