Laney (12 page)

“Of course you do. He’s just trying to get to you and you’re letting him.” He pulled her into a hug again and she still didn’t hug back. I wanted to know what they were talking about. And why was I feeling a bit of jealousy?
She’s his sister, after all, and he’s not even mine.

Two people walked out of the house, a man and a teenage girl. Julz pulled away from Oliver as the girl ran up to him and threw her arms around him with a big hug that he seemed happy to return.
Must be the niece.

The guy walked up to Julz. He looked at her, no expression on his face, squared his shoulders, and crossed his arms. She dropped her head like she was ashamed of what she’d done. What had she done? Or intended to do? Then he grabbed her into his arms. This hug she returned, burying her face into his chest. He was about six inches taller than she was. I imagined that’s what it looked like when Oliver held me. When he let go, she stepped back and folded her arms across her chest and looked down at the ground. She seemed somewhat defeated and a little ticked off. The younger girl seemed suddenly distracted and started looking in my direction. I hadn’t moved; I was just watching, silently. She started toward the car. Oliver noticed, and in a couple of quick strides, he was at my door before she could make it there. I was nervous. I wasn’t expecting to meet anyone, especially any of Oliver’s family.

He opened my door and smiled awkwardly. “Would you like to meet my family?”

A hesitant “Sure” escaped my lips.

He held out his hand to take mine and he helped me out of the car. The teenage girl had joined the other two; they stood beside each other watching us as we walked up the driveway. It was awkward and uncomfortable and I really just wanted to get back into the car and hide.

He introduced me to his sister, Julz, the gothic princess, with her chaotic, amethyst hair. She stood a couple of inches shorter than me with a slender, petite figure. She still had her sunglasses on, but by the sneer on her face, it seemed she wasn’t all that thrilled to meet me. She said nothing at all, just kept her arms crossed and smirked. She was beautiful, but in a different way from Oliver. Other than their curly brown hair, which wasn’t even close to the same shade of brown, I couldn’t really see any resemblance between them. I hadn’t yet seen her without her glasses, so maybe that would be where I found the resemblance.

Then I was introduced to Isaac. I assumed by the way he had his arm around Julz’s shoulder that he was her “man.” He was tall and thin, with messy, golden-blonde, mid-length, surfer-boy hair that was dyed turquoise on the tips. He had on jeans, a faded blue T-shirt, and flip-flops. He nodded at me with a smile. He seemed very polite and a bit older than Julz, who looked like she was in her early twenties. I thought Isaac might be in his early to mid-thirties. He waved a little to say “hi” from the hand that was draped over Julz’s shoulder. He was attractive, for someone with probably fifteen years on me—but as we’ve established, age is just a number. He had the cutest dimples and very pretty hazel-green eyes that stood out against his tan skin.

Finally, I was introduced to Oliver’s niece, Hayden. Hayden appeared to be about sixteen. She was beautiful, fully developed, and looked nothing like her parents. She had beautiful, light-colored skin, not like Oliver, or even Julz, who were both rather pale, or Isaac, who was darker than all of us. Her skin looked more like mine, just light. She had gorgeous, long, thick, straight, hair the color of dark chocolate and brilliant, sapphire-blue eyes. She was about as tall as me and very thin. The bottom line was that she was absolutely stunning and I realized she looked quite a bit like Oliver.

“This is Laney,” Oliver said with the sweetest smile.

Hayden smiled a perfect smile and came forward and wrapped me in a hug. “Oh,” I said, taken by surprise. I wasn’t expecting that—but today had been filled with the unexpected so far.

“Okay, Hayden. That’s enough,” Oliver chuckled and Hayden stepped back to stand beside her dad.

“It’s really nice to meet you,” Isaac said and smiled at me again, his dimples appearing.

Hayden grabbed my hand and tugged at me a little toward the front door. “You’ve got to come in and stay for dinner.”

“Oh…well…I…” I stammered.

“Laney has plans to eat with her aunt tonight,” Oliver added quickly.

“But thank you,” I said.

Julz had walked away and was at the front door.

Suddenly Oliver shouted, “Julz, don’t!”

She opened the front door and a massive dog came barreling toward us. Oliver grabbed me and quickly shoved me behind him protectively. He said something in a language I didn’t recognize and the dog stopped just in front of him. I held onto the back of his shirt and peeked around him. The dog stared straight into my eyes. It had the most amazing golden-amber eyes. Oliver said something else I didn’t understand. The dog looked at him, plopped down on its bum, and started wagging its tail. Its tongue flopped out of the side of its mouth and then it eyes met mine again.

“It’s okay,” Oliver said. “She won’t hurt you. Her name is Lola.”

I hadn’t taken my eyes off of Lola. Still holding onto the back of Oliver’s shirt, I cautiously reached toward her from behind him and Lola leaned into my hand so I could pet her head. I relaxed, released my death grip on Oliver’s shirt, and came around the front of him. I felt he’d protect me if anything happened. I squatted down to her level, which was not that far down. She was actually bigger than me when I was crouched.

She was so soft, softer than any dog I’d ever felt before, and silky too. She looked like a giant German Shepherd with floppy ears. She had cute white toes, white tips on her ears, and a white tip at the end of her tail. While I stroked her head, she closed her eyes like she was really enjoying herself and when I stopped, she nuzzled my hand for more. She didn’t smell like a dog. She smelled familiar, but I couldn’t place it. It was a comforting smell.

“What kind of dog is she?” I asked, still rubbing her, but with both hands now. She opened her eyes when I spoke and quickly licked my chin. Then she was back to nuzzling my hands. The dog “kiss” made me laugh a little.

“She’s a Brookehaven Shepherd, a cousin to the German Shepherd.”

I’d never heard of the breed before, but then again, it’s not like I had a vast knowledge of dog breeds. “Brookehaven, huh? Brooke was my mom’s name.”

I was lost in loving the beautiful dog when Oliver said, “I’d better get you to your aunt’s.”

Reluctantly, I said, “Okay.” I stood and Lola rubbed against me. When she stood, she came up to my waist. At five-foot-seven, it’s not like I was short. She was huge—a gentle giant.

We said our “goodbyes” and “nice to meet yous.” Well, everyone did but Julz. She stood at the door with her arms crossed. She wiggled a couple fingers toward me in what I assumed was a wave and Hayden came in for another hug.

Oliver opened my door again and smiled at me. My heart fluttered.

When he got into the car, he said, “I’m really sorry about that.”

“About what?”

“Throwing my family at you like that. I would rather have had you meet them on better terms.”
The fact that he wanted me to meet them was enough—yes!
He shot me a quick side glance as though he had heard my thoughts and I blushed a little.

“They seem nice,” I said.

“Ha! I’m not sure Julz could have been more rude. She has a serious attitude problem,” he said, as he started the car and we drove away.

“It’s no biggie. Maybe next time she’ll be friendly.” I was testing the water here—seeing if there would be a next time.

“I hope so,” he said absently.
YES!

He shot me another glance, like he had heard me or like I’d done something weird.

We talked a bit about Lola—I really liked that dog—about Hayden, her age, and why she wasn’t in school. “She’s thirteen and homeschooled. She’s really mature for her age. I sometimes think she’s the adult in the house. I treat her like she is,” he told me.

“How old is Julz?” I asked. “She doesn’t look old enough to have a teenager.”

“She’s older than she acts,” he chuckled to himself. “She was twenty-two when Hayden was born.”

“Wow, she’s thirty-five! She looks great!” Like I had any idea what thirty-five looked like. I remember when I thought twenty was old. I saw the corner of his mouth go up like he found that funny.

Once we were off the highway, I directed him to my aunt’s and we arrived in the early evening. The sun was starting to set.

He parked on the street near the mailbox, in front of the white two-story house I grew up in. It was due for a new coat of paint and the wood porch and four wood steps leading up to it needed to be re-sealed. The grass was somewhat lacking in the front yard and there was a large walnut tree just to the left of the front of the house. Hanging from the tree was a single wood-seat swing held up by two very long white ropes. A gravel driveway curved around the right ending behind the house where the carport was located. The lights were on downstairs. The grey front door was centered in the middle of the porch. To the right of the door, the white lace curtains were open in the large window in the formal dining room. You could just make out the polished cherry wood dining set. To the left of the front door was the much smaller kitchen window. I caught a flutter of movement and knew Aunt Lilly would be out any moment.

“Your turn,” I said to him.

“My turn for what?” He was clearly clueless.

“Your turn to meet my family.” I nodded toward the house.

“Oh, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” He had turned the car off. He looked down and began fiddling with his keys.

“Why? I didn’t get a choice.” I smiled at him trying to work my charm. He removed his sunglasses and shot me a sideways glance with just a hint of a smile. He caved.

He grabbed my bags for me and we headed across the front yard toward the house.

“Laney Jo,” Aunt Lilly called happily, as she came out to meet us. She was wiping her hands on a dishtowel. She was wearing a cream-colored apron with pale pink trim over a lavender top and her usual khaki pants. I recently convinced her to stop wearing blue with her khakis, when I told her she looked liked she worked at Wal-Mart. That’s when she confessed to me that someone had asked her where to find packing tape the last time she had been there. At the time, she’d had no idea why someone thought she looked like she’d know where the packing tape would be. My observation made it clear to her.

Oliver nudged me with his elbow. “Laney Jo?” he said with a quiet chuckle.

“Don’t you start,” I said, nudging him back. “I know it makes me sound like a hillbilly. It’s short for Delaney Josephine.”

“That’s a beautiful name.”

“Thanks.” I smiled and shied away.

Lilly stopped abruptly on the top porch step, looking shocked. She stood stark still with the dishtowel in hand, staring at us.
God, I hope she doesn’t make a big deal about me being with a boy.
I smiled and waved and she seemed to come back to herself.

“Aunt Lilly, this is Oliver,” I said, as we reached the bottom of the four front steps.

“Hello, Ma’am.” His voice was quiet. He suddenly seemed shy and nervous.

“Hi,” she said in a flat tone.
What’s with the rude ladies tonight?

“Well, I should go,” Oliver said quickly.

“It was nice to meet you, Oliver,” Lilly said in that same flat manner. It sounded almost condescending.

“You, too,” he said in that same quiet voice. I was confused. I didn’t understand why they were behaving in such an odd way toward each other.

Oliver handed me my bags and brushed those stray hairs away from my face again as I stood there bewildered by the attitudes of the day. He glanced at my aunt and quickly pulled his hand away. “I’ll see you at school,” he said, backing toward his car.

“Thanks for the ride.” I didn’t want him to go. After the “warm” welcome from Aunt Lilly, I was thinking I wanted to go with him.

He gave me one more heart-pounding, beautiful smile before he got into his car and drove away.

Chapter 15 - Aunt Lilly

I watched Oliver drive away and then I stormed up the steps, across the porch, and into the house, with Lilly trailing close behind. I stomped through the front door and across the entryway to the foot of the stairs, which were between the dining room and the kitchen.

I spun around on her. “Why were you rude to him?” It was obvious I was just a bit ticked off.

“I wasn’t,” she denied.

“Um, yeah, you were,” I countered, with heavy sarcasm. I turned to the stairs and stomped up to my room.

I dropped my bags on my floor as I walked into my room and then flung myself onto my bed. I lay there fuming at the ceiling. What was with people today? Why was Lilly rude to Oliver? And why was Julz rude to me?

I took several calming breaths and a few minutes later there was a quiet knock on my door. Lilly poked her head inside. “I made dinner—your favorite,” she said in her normal sweet voice. I wasn’t sure if I should be more irritated at her because she was acting like nothing happened or if I should just let it go. I pondered it for a few seconds.

I was hungry, so I let it go.

I sat up and smiled back at her. She seemed relieved, which only made me wonder…

I gave her a once-over before she turned for the staircase. Her graying auburn hair was tied back in a knot; her face showed lines from age and it made me wish even more that those lines were from happiness instead. Her light-brown eyes showed a hint of sadness, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. What bothered me most was why she was sad, and that I didn’t know.

I sighed and followed her down the stairs to the kitchen where “build your own tacos” was waiting for me.

I happily built myself the grandest—yes, I said grandest—taco ever seen. It was huge and full of everything you can possibly stuff into a soft taco shell. I took a seat across from Lilly at the little table in the kitchen. I shot her a grateful smile just before devouring my taco. I enjoyed every last bite.

We didn’t say much during dinner, mostly because I was too busy stuffing my face.

For dessert, we moved into the living room, which was just off the far end of the kitchen, opposite the entryway. We had vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce in front of the TV and things seemed to lighten up a bit.

She asked how things were—my classes, the apartment, and friends, Kiera in particular.

“She’s doing really well. She and Carter are finally an item, so I haven’t seen much of her lately.” I, of course, did not mention Kiera spending the night with him. When it came to boys, Aunt Lilly could be a little old-fashioned.

“Are you lonely?” she asked.

“No. Why would I be?” I said, over a spoonful of ice cream. She gave me a suspicious look like she knew something I wasn’t sharing. I knew she wanted to know about Oliver, but I wasn’t sharing unless she asked.

Then she did. She asked the big question: “So, tell me about Oliver—about you and Oliver.” She said it in a knowing tone, knowing there was obviously something between us. I wished I knew what that “something” was, or if it was going to turn into something more, like I wanted it to.

I felt my cheeks get warm at the thought of talking about this with her. “He’s sweet,” I offered, trying to hide how uncomfortable it was to talk about this with her. What was odd was that I had never been uncomfortable telling her anything before, but something about how she acted toward him made me nervous.

“Sweet? That’s all you’ve got for me?” she said in a more light-hearted tone. She smiled and her eyes crinkled at the sides.

I loosened up a little.

With a deep breath, I laid it out for her. “He’s sweet and gentle; he’s thoughtful and a gentleman. I feel safe around him, like he’d never let anything hurt me.”
There’s something alluring and dangerous about him, but comforting and protective. When I think about him, my stomach knots, my heart rate quickens and…and I could go on…
But I definitely wasn’t going to share all of that with her. What I kept from her was for her own good.

“You’re getting a little too serious about him, aren’t you?” She was back to being serious, and, I thought, maybe even a little judgmental.

“What’s wrong with that?” I felt the frustration creeping back up.

“You’ve never even had a boyfriend before. Don’t go thinking you’re falling in love with the first cute boy that comes along.”

“I’ve had a boyfriend before! And I didn’t say anything about love!” I wanted it, but for now it was just the hope of love that I was clinging to.

“When? When did you have a boyfriend?” I could hear her panic starting to surface. She didn’t like the idea of me dating.

“The neighbor boy. We used to sneak out into the orchard together.” I hated having to admit to sneaking around.

She became flustered. “Well, that’s just one boy.”

“There have been others, but I have never felt this way about anyone before!” My voice was starting to rise and I knew it would be unwise to mention any other boys I had dated.

“I just don’t want to lose you.” She was unexpectedly sad.

“Why would you lose me?” I lowered my voice.

She sighed and set her bowl down on the end table between us. In all seriousness, she said, “You sound just like your mom did when she fell in love with your dad.”

That surprised me. I stared wide-eyed and speechless at her.

“Just be careful, okay?” She got up from her chair and took both of our bowls to the kitchen.

I was still shocked by her comment, mostly because she never spoke of my dad. I was sure she blamed him for losing my mom. I was also sure she’d never admit to that.

Lilly and my mom hadn’t been very close, I think mostly because there was an eight-year age difference between them—my mom being younger. Lilly was a career woman. She had no desire for a family and my mom did. But, when my mom died, Lilly gave up her life and moved from the city to this big house on the outskirts of a small town to raise me. I was just two years old when my mom died at twenty-two; Lilly was thirty. It was almost another year later when my dad brought me to her. Now, as she was approaching fifty, I thought perhaps what she had lost and missed out on was hard for her to deal with. I also considered that she regretted not being closer with my mom.

I stared around the living room from where I sat in one of the two overstuffed chairs that were just to the right of the opening to the kitchen. Not much had changed since I was little. The walls were still a light blue, the floors were hardwood throughout the house, and there was a cream-colored, oval, braided rug on the floor of the living room. On the far left wall, an old tan leather couch was placed under the window as it always had been. There were end tables on either side of the couch with a lamp on each one. The lamps were clear glass with light tan shades. A fireplace that we rarely used was on the wall opposite from where I sat and, to the right of it, in the corner, sat the TV. There were a few pictures placed around the room, some on the walls, a few on the fireplace mantle, and one on each end table.

I picked up the picture on the end table between the chairs and felt my body slump. The one thing that always changed was that Lilly constantly rotated the pictures throughout the house. This one took me by surprise. It was a picture of my parents on their wedding day. I had one of their wedding pictures in my room at the apartment, but it was different from this one. Mine was of them facing each other. They each had a hand on the other’s waist, their eyes were closed, and my dad had his other hand resting gently at my mom’s neck. He was just tall enough that his lips pressed gently to her forehead without him bending down. I loved that picture; it was my favorite. It showed in that one image how much they loved each other.

The photo I now held was a close second, but it wasn’t my favorite. This picture was taken from the waist up, just like the other one; but, in this one, they were smiling, laughing maybe. Their wedding attire always surprised me. It was almost medieval, peasant-like, but beautiful. My mom was looking at the camera, while my dad, from beside her, was looking at her with a smile only true love could produce.

From what I had seen and been told, I looked exactly like my mother, except for my eyes. I had my father’s eyes. My mother’s eyes were a beautiful crystal-blue. My father has—I say ‘has’ because he’s still around somewhere—brown hair and the darkest brown eyes. He’s just a little darker complexioned than I am. He’s on the average side for height and he has a lean build. He didn’t sound like much when described, but he was something to look at, and that was coming from his daughter.

I didn’t know a lot about my parents or their relationship; looking at that photo brought tears to my eyes for a couple of reasons. I wish I had known them, for one. Also, it was so rare to see such love in a couple, to see that they clearly had everything in each other. I couldn’t help wondering what life would have been like had my mother lived.

I set the photo back where I’d found it, wiped my eyes with the palms of my hands and headed for the laundry room.

As I mindlessly started my first load, I thought more about my parents. They were young when they married; my mom was just nineteen. I don’t know how old my dad was, but he couldn’t have been more than a couple of years older than she was. I wondered if I, too, would someday find the kind of love that my parents had shared.
Could I possibly be at the beginning of it?

I trudged upstairs to get ready for the night. At the end of the hallway, Lilly’s bedroom door was closed. It occurred to me that I must have touched a nerve during our conversation. It was unlike her not to tell me “Goodnight.”

After changing into my pajamas and washing my face, I settled into my window seat with a book I had no intention of reading and my cell. I gazed up at the stars; it was another beautiful night. Lilly’s house was surrounded by trees, except in the front; there was only the one lone walnut tree out front. There was an orchard of walnut, almond, and various fruit trees that stretched on as far as you could see. The neighbors’ houses were close enough to see, but just far enough away that it didn’t really seem like they were there. There were no fences dividing the property lines; the houses weren’t close enough for them to be necessary.

Something in the distance caught my eye. There was something, or someone, moving near some of the distant trees. I squinted, trying to get a better look. My phone beeped. It startled me and I jumped.

It was a text from Oliver:

Goodnight.

It made me smile to think he was thinking of me. I responded with a “Goodnight” and returned my attention to the trees. I couldn’t find anything; nothing moved.

The following day with Aunt Lilly was much better—almost like normal for us. We hung out, watched TV, and painted our toes. I did more laundry and we relaxed, enjoying each other’s company. She did express her concerns about Oliver again—of course not directly—and also about Kiera fainting and school. She was a worrier, in case you couldn’t tell. I kept waiting for her to bring up the attack on the girl and her boyfriend, but she never did. I certainly wasn’t going to bring it up—she’d freak.

Together, we made chicken parmesan with salad and bread for dinner. After we ate, we were sitting in the living room when she said, “You seem really distracted. Is there something you’d like to talk about?”

Of course I was distracted, with my Oliver daydreams and all. I missed him. We hadn’t really been apart since Tuesday night and I had grown accustomed to him being there. It was almost like I was having Oliver withdrawals. “Nope. Everything’s fine,” I answered.

“Just remember to keep an open mind and remember that the unimaginable is always a possibility,” she said out of nowhere, as she got up and left the room.

I stared after her.
What the…?
She had been telling me for years to keep an open mind. It just seemed really out of context here. And what was with her and her “last word” before leaving the room? This was a new development.

I waited for a while, but she didn’t return. I cleaned up the dinner dishes, shut off the TV, made sure the doors were locked, and turned off the lights before heading upstairs.

After getting ready for bed, I folded the last of my laundry and packed it back into my freshly washed laundry bag. I grabbed my phone and the white eyelet bedspread off of my bed and cuddled up in my window seat. My old room was just as I’d left it almost a year ago. I usually went back and stayed with Lilly every other weekend. I frequently thought that I should update my room. But why? It wasn’t like I was going to move back in. I had moved out and moved on, but the simplicity of being young and having no worries would always be a desire. I stared out into the orchard, but nothing caught my eye.

Another text came from Oliver:

Goodnight. See you tomorrow?

My Response:

Night & Yes. (:

He responded:

;) Oliver

This made me excited to go home—not like I wasn’t already looking forward to seeing him again. This meant he was looking forward to seeing me, too.

I climbed into bed, too excited to sleep. Fantasies of Oliver ran through my thoughts for a long, long while until I finally drifted off.

I woke up and it was dark, just the glow from the moon shining in through my open curtains. I felt a familiar cool arm around my waist and a firm body snuggled against my back. My heart rate picked up. Had he snuck into the house to be with me? I ran my finger down his arm as I had done before, found his hand, and intertwined my fingers with his. He kissed the back of my head as he had done before, but a few strands of my hair got pulled and I pulled away to get them free. His fingers tightened on mine and it started to hurt.

“Ow, you’re hurting my hand,” I whispered.

He didn’t ease up on his grip and I turned to see if he was awake. Terror shot through me as I looked into the eyes of that horrible freak from the other night. I tried to scream, but he covered my mouth before I could get anything out. I kicked and struggled wildly under his grip. Tears filled my eyes as my heart raced, beating so hard it made my ears throb.
It was him I’d seen in the orchard! How had he found me?