Reaching Through Time (12 page)

Was that supposed to console him? Drake never knew how to deal with any girl, let alone a kind one.

They stopped at the gym’s entrance. “We’re here. Why don’t you go register and then let me give you a guided tour? And when school starts, look me up. I’ll intro you around to my friends.”

“Go on,” his mother said. “I’ll wait in the bleachers.”

Drake shot her a hostile look. Didn’t his mom get that he didn’t want to hang around and go on a tour with a girl who probably pitied him?

Beth put her hand on his shoulder. “Get it done and come right back.” She leaned closer, gave him an impish grin. “And welcome to the jungle.”

“I don’t like it when you’re mad at me,” Gina said from the doorway of Drake’s work space.

He looked up. “I’m not mad at you.” The truth was, he was hurt.

“You’re mad because I wouldn’t go to the movie with you.”

“I’m over it.”

She came to his worktable and turned him to face her. “Believe me, I would have gone with you if it had been possible.”

Her eyes were so blue and so sincere that Drake felt his cool resolve begin to melt. When a mist filled her eyes, he came undone. “Look, Gina, I understand that going out with a guy who walks like he’s drunk isn’t every girl’s dream date.”

“Is that what you think?”

He heard an edge in her voice. “It’s the way it is. I’ve learned to accept it.”

“You know, Drake, you’re the only one who thinks of yourself as crippled. I don’t see your limp when we’re together.”

“Hard to believe.”

“Hard for me to believe that you don’t see what I see when I look at you.”

“What do you see, Gina?”

She rose on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I see someone I care about.”

She left the room and he stood staring at the space that had held her, desire eating through him like a virus.

The warbling from Gina’s music machine kept crashing into Drake’s ability to concentrate on his work. The sound grated like fingernails on a blackboard, and for some reason seemed louder than usual even though it was coming down three flights of stairs. Every now and then it slowed,
stopped and then speeded up, letting him know that she had wound the crank handle. How could she ever dance tending to that crappy machine every few minutes?

He threw down his paperwork and hobbled to the door. He glanced at the old clock, was surprised to see that it was only two-fifteen. Except for the ticking clock and the tinny music, the house lay silent. He had no idea where Dennison was, but at the moment, he didn’t care. Taking a deep breath, Drake crossed the hallway and began a long slow climb up the stairs.

He stood outside the door of the attic room sweating, waiting while his shriveled leg muscle and breathing settled down from the exertion. When he regained control of both, he stepped through the doorway. Gina was pirouetting en pointe, her arms and legs in classic ballet poses. His heart thumped crazily, but not from his climb. She was sheer beauty, as fragile as a flower. Sunlight shot through the windows, and in its beams, tiny flurries of dust rose from the floor as she spun. Her white blond hair was pulled into a severe bun, accentuating her cheekbones and eyes.

She spun so much that Drake grew dizzy watching her. She broke her pose, bounded across the wooden floor, whirling as she leapt. Her athleticism amazed him. There might have been a time when he would have felt intimidated and left wanting, but now he was mesmerized by her skill and beauty. When she finally caught sight of him, she cried, “Drake! What are you doing here?”

He snapped from his trance, felt his color rise. “I, um—I wanted to see you dance.”

She came to him, splay-footed because of her toe shoes. Her face was rosy with the glow of exercise, and perspiration stood out on her face and throat. He stared at the throbbing pulse in her neck and wanted to suck it. He snapped his gaze to her eyes. “Do you mind if I watch?”

She laughed. “I haven’t danced in front of an audience since I left Boston in the spring.”

“Then it’s okay?”

“It’s okay.” She took his hand and led him into the large room.

“Maybe I can wind your music machine so you don’t have to stop every time and do it.”

Another smile lit her face. “That would be wonderful.”

“I could bring a better machine to you. One that runs on batteries. I can pick up a few CDs if you tell me the ones you want.”

Her smile turned tender, a little sad. “We’ll be going home soon. No need to bother.”

His heart wrenched. He didn’t want her to ever leave. “I’m sorry,” he said, meaning more than he could put into words. Sorry she was leaving. Sorry he’d withdrawn from her.

She touched his arm, ducked her head to meet his eyes. “I know.”

With the two words, he knew she’d forgiven him. He
swallowed against a hard knot of emotion clogging his throat.

“I have an idea,” she said. She knelt next to a stack of disks in paper sleeves, riffled through them, came up with one and exchanged it for the one on the turntable. She reached for the crank.

“Let me,” Drake said. He wound it tight, set the needle on the disk. Voices sang.

“It’s my favorite,” Gina said. “ ‘Till We Meet Again.’ ”

The music was scratchy, the beat slow and the words sentimental. He’d never heard the song before and he didn’t think much of it, but if Gina liked it …

She slipped her arms around him. “Dance with me.”

He drew back, shocked by what she was asking. “I can’t dance.”

“Of course you can.”

Looking into her intense blue eyes, he believed her. “I—I’m clumsy.”

“I don’t care.”

His arms went around her and she snuggled against his chest. They swayed together, their bodies touching, his body aching with need and longing for her. She raised her chin and he bent his head and kissed her.

K
issing Gina. Drake revisited the moments over and over in his head that weekend. He’d heard dopey love songs telling of “sweet kisses.” Lame. But remarkably true. Gina tasted of apples and sugar, and the taste lingered in his mouth.

Drake couldn’t get over how different she was from other girls. At school, the popular girls traveled in packs, like show dogs strutting before panels of judges, always on display. Their clothes shouted “Look at me.” Their hair was usually a perfected snarl of messiness and their lips pouted with thick layers of shimmering gloss. They giggled, talked loudly enough to draw constant attention to themselves and hung like ornaments on the arms of the guys they liked. Less popular girls were often quieter, moving like shadows in the halls, not flamboyant, but aloof, worshiping from afar the others, male and female, the ones who owned the limelight.
The outsider girls strutted the halls, brimming with attitude. The pecking order was vicious. He recalled a day when he stared a little too long at one girl with spiked purple hair. She’d turned and snapped, “What are you looking at, gimp?”

Gina was like none of them. She was sweet and never talked down to him. She treated him as if he were an important person instead of a tall clumsy boy with a shriveled leg. He found her intoxicating. He didn’t want summer to end. He wanted to be with her for all time.

He was grilling burgers on the patio one Sunday afternoon while his mother sliced tomatoes onto a plate at their picnic table. She looked over at Drake and said, “You look happy.”

He sent her a sidelong glance. “Why do you say that?”

“You just do.”

“Gee, let me wipe it off my face.”

“Don’t be sarcastic. Happy looks good on you.”

He shrugged self-consciously.

Connie spread the tomatoes in a semicircle on the plate and opened a jar of pickles. “I’m your mother. I know when something’s up with you.” She paused, cocked her head. “Are you in love?”

Drake almost dropped his spatula. He felt his face redden. “What are you saying?”

Connie walked over, her arms crossed with a knowing smile on her face. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

He waved her away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s not a bad thing, son. Nothing to be ashamed of. I’m just wondering why you didn’t tell me that you’ve met someone. Talk to me.”

He took a deep breath, knowing that she’d eventually wheedle the information out of him. “Okay … so I know a girl. She’s the professor’s daughter.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Nothing to tell. Her name’s Gina and … and she’s nice.” He was uncomfortably warm. He probably should have mentioned Gina to his mom before now, but he hadn’t. Keeping Gina to himself had been self-protective at first. No use talking about what he couldn’t have. But now, after holding her and kissing her, he felt she was somehow a part of him.

“Am I going to meet her?”

He thought about Gina’s reaction when he’d asked her on a date. She’d said, “I can’t.” Maybe now she would. “I don’t know. They’re going back to Boston after Labor Day.” School would start for him in a week. He wrapped up his job soon.

“Oh,” his mother said, looking disappointed. “I’d really like to meet her.”

“I’m going to see her as much as I can until they leave,” he said. “I’ll try and bring her by for a visit.” He was taking a chance—he had no idea whether she’d come.

“She must be special if you like her,” Connie said.

What was special was that she liked him, but he didn’t say that to his mother. He scooped up the burgers and put them on a plate. “Dinner,” he announced instead.

Drake had noticed that although it remained hot in the city at the foot of the mountain, the air was growing cooler on Sandstone. On his drive up in the mornings, he saw hints of autumn color in the foliage, saw berries on bushes turning red and birds beginning to flock together for long flights to sunnier climates. Fall was coming—everywhere except at 13 Sandstone Mountain.

“You must be a heck of a gardener,” Drake said to Gina one afternoon. They were holding hands, walking the path that wandered between flowerbeds.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because these flowers look just the same as when I first came to apply for my job.” He paused on the path. “Like these.” He gently shook a pink mop-head hydrangea.

“Oh, they’ll die when it gets colder.”

“You mean without you to take care of them.” Drake looked over the gardens, at roses still full and bright, at black-eyed Susans standing tall and summery, at tulips still holding on to their waxy spring petals.

Gina turned to face him, slipped her arms around his
waist. “Are we out here to talk about flowers? Or do you want to kiss me?”

He grinned, bent toward her lips. “What flowers?”

Drake made his way along the crowded hall on the first day of school. He hugged the wall, not wanting to become entangled in the swarm of foot traffic. His mood was dark because the last time he’d seen Gina, they’d argued. His mother was on his case about meeting Gina, but nothing he said could persuade her to come down the mountain with him. He’d become so frustrated with her refusals that he’d made her cry. Now he only felt miserable, because Gina had hurt him all over again, and he’d said things to hurt her.

“Hey, Drake!”

Surprised, he turned and saw a dark-haired girl weaving through the mass of bodies toward him. She skidded to a stop. “It’s me—Beth,” she said with a breathless smile. “You know, your faithful guide.”

She clicked into place in his head. Beth from registration day. “Hi.”

“Crazy, isn’t it? First week is wild … everybody trying to find their way.”

“I take my time,” he said.

“So let me see your class card.”

He pulled out the card and she quickly scanned it. “We have third-period trig together. That’s cool.”

“Sure,” he said, not meaning it. He realized she might honestly be a nice person, but he didn’t care about anything except Gina right now.

“Our lunch periods overlap too. Look for me when you hit the cafeteria and I’ll intro you around to my posse.”

He didn’t crack a smile. His mind was truly elsewhere.

She leaned in. “Get it? Posse? Friends?”

“I get it. That’s fine.” He was not quite rude. Beth was trying to make him feel welcome. “I’ll look for you,” he said, with an apologetic shrug. “I had a tough weekend. I’m a bit out of it.”

“No prob,” Beth said.

“Guess I’d better get to first period.” The human traffic crunch had thinned and Drake pushed off from the wall.

“I’ll walk with you,” Beth said.

“I’ll just slow you down. Make you late.”

“Like that’s never happened,” she said, rolling her eyes. “This way.”

They walked in silence, Drake ever mindful of his bad leg and wounded heart.