It's All in Your Mind (21 page)

"Papa won tonight," I reminded him.

Joel snapped his fingers. "I'll have
to think up another excuse."

"You don't need an excuse," I said. "I mean, uh, that is, Papa likes a good challenge."

"Good, good ...." Joel rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I guess I should be going ...."

"Yes, I suppose so."

Joel reached out and touched my arm, for a second or a minute, I couldn't say which. Then he let his hand drop to his side. He offered me a little half-smile. "See you in the morning."

I brushed an imaginary piece of lint off his shoulder. "Bright and early."

Chapter Fourteen

There was a slight chill in the morning air, the first sign that summer would soon be over. Papa helped me load the mowers onto the truck. Though the doctor said he had to wait only two more weeks, Papa was eager to get back to work. Despite Mama's scolding, he was already taking care of our yard and garden again. That, Papa claimed, was not really work.

I worried a little as he pushed a mower up into the truck, even though he showed no signs of strain. In fact, already he looked as if he would have no problem outworking me and Joel combined. Still, Mama was not going to let him go back to work one day earlier than the doctor said.

I saw Joel's car coming up the street. I was glad I'd had his help. I'd thought I was a pretty good worker, but I never would have been able to keep up with Papa's workload by myself.

As Joel walked over to us, he took a deep breath, stretching his arms wide. "Smell that?" he said. "Fall is in the air. Before we know it, we'll be hitting the books again." He sounded as if he looked forward to that, and I'm sure he did. Joel was not only smart, he had a deep love of learning.

"Don't remind me of school!" I joked. I laughed when I said it, but I did feel uneasy. What would the start of school mean for me and Nolan?

***

Maybe it was because clouds played tag with the sun all day, or maybe it was the tender breezes playing gentle symphonies in the trees, but the day seemed so ... serene. The radio was filled with soft ballads, and as Joel sang along, he stayed with the true words. I found myself humming along with him. He must have liked that, because when I first did it he tapped me on the arm. I gave him a quick glance, and he gave me an enthusiastic smile and nod of approval before I turned my attention to the road again.

With Labor Day not far off, we spent a good part of our time doing late-summer work. While Joel spread mulch, I divided bearded iris, old clumps of daffodils, hyacinths, and other spring-flowering bulbs, and cut delphiniums back to prevent seeding. That would encourage a late summer bloom for the summer people who came back for a few weekends in September. I enjoyed the damp scent of the soil and the feel of the sun on my back. It was no longer a blazing hot summer heat, but a soothing warmth.

Hedges needed only a light trimming, so I took care of that while Joel removed dead flower heads from rhododendrons and azaleas for neatness and strength of the plants. We worked separately and yet together. It reminded me of when I was little and my mother would take me to the park. She would visit with her friends, while I and the other children would sit almost in a circle, not quite old enough yet to be playing with each other, but happy to be playing next to one another.

As we worked I thought how the homeowners merely sat back and enjoyed their yards and gardens. It was Papa, and now me and Joel, who cared for the lawns and flowers and shrubs and trees. We put our backs and our thoughts into them, and now I recognized we truly appreciated doing everyday tasks in a dedicated way that gave us a lasting satisfaction.  

With the extra work, it made for a long day. It was too late for a swim by the time we were done, and it was cool enough that we really didn't need one anyway. Back home, as we unloaded the truck, I felt a certain contentment with the kind of labor where I could see the results with my own two eyes. It would be a bit of an adjustment returning to school, sitting in a classroom, trying not to gaze out the window, and concentrating on something as abstract as the square root of minus two.

When we finished putting everything away, Joel said, "Whew! We sure put in a full day's work. I won't have trouble sleeping tonight." He chuckled. "Not that I've ever had a problem sleeping!"

"Pretty soon school will start and you won't have to work so hard," I said.

"I wasn't complaining," Joel said. "There's something about doing something with your own two hands that feels good." He paused, then said, "Besides, I like working with you. You let me sing to you!"

"You're easily pleased," I teased.

"Actually, I'm very particular." Joel winked, and lightly tapped my chin with his knuckles.

I had no comeback, except for the line of pink I felt creeping up my face. Fortunately, just then Mama called out the back door. "Supper's ready! Joel, can you join us?"

"Thanks, Mrs. Skalbe, but not tonight," Joel said. "My folks are having a barbecue and I have to baste the chicken!" He turned to me. "See you in the morning, Vija."

"Yes, I'll see you then ...."

At supper I filled Papa in on the work Joel and I had done, and listened while Mama "complained," with a twinkl
e in her eye and loving glances, about how Papa washed all the windows "inside and out." Then Papa read the latest letter from Karl. As always, his letter was brief and breezy, and he was counting the days until he would return to the United States. Though no one said anything, I think we all worried about what Karl might not be telling us.

After supper I noticed a light drizzle falling outside, so I decided to go to my room and hunt for a good book to read. But when I got there, I was drawn to my phone. Should I call Nolan? I knew he was busy with his singing gigs, but summer was almost over, and I hoped to see him as much as possible before school started.

If Nolan wasn't there, he'd never know I called. If he was there, at least there was a chance that he might want to see me. I dialed his number and held my breath.

"Hello?"

"H-hi, Nolan ...."

"Vija! I was just going to call you!"

The delight in Nolan's voice made my heart sing. "Oh ...?"

"I want you to meet me over at Nicki's. How soon can you get there?"

My mind whirled. Why Nicki's? Was he performing there tonight? Did he want to sing for me? Is that why he wanted me to meet him there? "Nicki's?"

"Yes. I have a special evening planned."

I tried to breathe, but I couldn't find enough air. Finally, I whispered, "W-what?"

"It's a surprise. C'mon," Nolan urged me. "I want so much to see you."

"All ... all right. I'll be there in ... in half an hour."

"Great! See ya!"

I quickly changed into a pair of pink tapered pants and a peppermint striped top, combed out my hair, and put on a touch of lipstick. As I headed downstairs, I practiced what I was going to say to Mama and Papa. I wanted to sound convincing, and I wanted to say it quickly so they wouldn't have time to ask any questions.

I half-stepped into the living room and said in my most cheerful voice, "I'm going out. Some of the girls from my class are going to see 'The Diary of Anne Frank' over in
Monroe. I'll see you later!"

"Drive carefully," Mama said.

"Don't be out too late," Papa said.

"I will. I won't. Bye!" With that, I dashed out the door, hopped in my car, and decided there had to have been some truth in what I said. Surely some of the girls from my class
would
be going to the movie. And Nicki's was on the way to Monroe. I'd read the book, and seen previews of the movie, so, if asked, talking about it would be easy.

The drizzle became a light rain, so I turned on the wipers. I switched on the radio and heard Paul Anka singing "Lonely Boy." I had to laugh, remembering Joel's version of the song. Funny, I'd known Joel a long time, but I really learned a lot about him working with him this summer. I'd known he was smart, of course, but, come to think of it, that's pretty much all I'd thought about him. Joel the Genius. One of the
intelligentsia. Now I knew he had a great sense of humor, that he was kind enough to help me with Papa's work, when, really, he'd had a perfectly good job as a caddy.

A car from a side street started to pull out in front of me. I hit the brakes and skidded to a stop. The driver just drove on as if I weren't there! I took a deep breath to calm my nerves, and continued driving. What was I doing thinking about Joel, anyway? I needed to concentrate on the road. Nolan was waiting for me.

The rain let up a bit by the time I pulled into Nicki's parking lot. Just as I parked my car, Nolan bounded out the front door. He knocked on my window. I unrolled it.

"Hey," Nolan said. "Move over. I'll drive tonight."

Drive? Where? "Um ...uh ...."

"Don't worry." Nolan opened the door and nudged me. Reluctantly, I slid over to the passenger seat. "I've got insurance, a license, and I'm a good driver." Nolan held up one hand. "I swear."

"O-okay ...." I decided if Nolan could handle a motorcycle, he could drive a car.  "Um ... where are we going?"

"You'll see." Nolan pushed back the seat and adjusted the rear-view mirror, then pulled out of the parking lot. If the towel on the seat bothered him, he didn
't mention it. He turned off the radio. "I told you I had a special evening planned. Remember?"

"Yes. But I thought
— I mean, that is ... where are we going?"

"Just wait. You'll see," Nolan said firmly.

I sat back and listened to the rhythm of the windshield wipers. I knew Nolan wanted the evening to be a surprise, and that should be exciting. But for some reason not knowing what he had planned made me uneasy.

Nolan made a turn off the
Post Road, and I realized we were heading toward the Monroe shoreline. I wondered if he had a gig at a big party, or maybe at the Monroe Country Club. But I didn't ask. Nolan wanted it to be surprise.

My mind fluttered with curiosity when Nolan turned onto a side road just past Mrs. Holland's house. When he pulled into the alley leading to the old carriage house on the property, I felt as if my breath was cut off. Mrs. Holland was just the type of person to call the police if she saw us. We could be arrested for trespassing!

Nolan pulled the car over next to a door that had to be for the little apartment in the carriage house. He turned off the engine and the car lights. "Here we are."

I didn't want to upset Nolan, but I didn't want to get into trouble either. "I
... I don't think we should b-be here," I said.

"Don't worry. It's fine." Nolan got out of the car, walked around and opened my door.

I hesitated, but when Nolan offered his hand I got out of the car. My knees shook. My words of worry caught in my throat.

Nolan unlocked the apartment door. He reached inside, flipped on a light switch, and gestured for me to go in.

At first I was too surprised to do anything but nod and step inside. As I took in the large stone fireplace, beaded board ceiling, chintz-covered sofa and huge four-poster bed in the one-room apartment, I found my voice. "Who ... who lives here?"

"I do."

"I ... but ... what? H-how can you afford a place like this?"

"Free is very affordable." Nolan grinned.

"F-free?" Then it hit me. "Mrs. Holland is a patron of the arts. Is that it? Is she your benefactor?"

"In a way."  Nolan grinned.  "She's my aunt."

"Your aunt?" I dropped down onto the sofa in front of the fireplace. My mind swirled with the images I'd conjured up of Nolan, the starving artist, living in a cheap, run-down walk-up in New Haven or somewhere like that ... anywhere but Mrs. Holland's carriage house!

"Yeah," Nolan said. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle, then took two glasses from a cabinet. "I'm sure I've mentioned that before."

"No ...."

"I must have. You just weren't listening." Nolan set the glasses on the coffee table in front of me. "But what else could I expect from you?" He laughed, as if it were a joke, then poured what I at first thought was champagne. I was surprised, because Nolan had told me he didn't drink. But then I saw it was sparkling cider. He picked up one glass, and handed one to me. "To us."

We clinked glasses, and sipped the sparkling cider.

"It's time for one of my private parties." Nolan took my glass and set it back on the table. He gathered me into his arms and gave me a soft, slow kiss. He planted kisses on my neck, my shoulder. I savored every moment. He slid his hand over my breast. Blood pounded in my head as that warm
-and-cold tingle swept through me.

Nolan slipped his hand under my blouse. His other hand skimmed my hips, my thighs. Then his hand was reaching inside my pants.

"No—" I started to say. But Nolan buried my words with a long, probing kiss. The tingle turned to dark icy fright. I tried to tell him to stop, but my voice was smothered. I struggled to get his weight off me, but he was too heavy. Finally, I reached up with both hands and pushed his face away from mine. "Stop!"