Summer's End Page 19

  “I'm so sorry. I got caught up with a customer, sweetie, I couldn't call. Thank you for taking her, Lane. You're such a sweet boy.”

  Lane smiles. “I don't mind at all, Mrs. Stone.”

  Dad walks into the kitchen.

  “Lane, how are you?” Lane steps toward Dad to shake his hand.

  “Great, sir. Thanks.”

  “I didn't think we would see you until Sunday.”

  “I gave Regan a ride home.”

  “Oh yes. We had some things come up, thanks for helping.” Dad walks to the fridge to refill his tea.

  “It's no problem at all.”

  Dad sits at the table and gestures for us to sit down. Lane offers me the chair, I sit.

  “Would you like a drink?” Dad offers.

  “No, thank you.”

  “I think I need something.” I scurry to the kitchen for a glass of water. I'm so nervous about this, I'm about to drop the glass. I feel Lane watching me.

  “Mr. Stone, Regan tells me you invited Paul Frak to dinner tomorrow.” He’s sitting up straight, hands in his lap.

  Mom's finishing up with her rolls, and instead of sitting down I stay in the kitchen to clean up for her. “Yes, we have.” Dad sits calmly, sipping his iced tea.

  “Paul's not who you think he may be.” Lane leans up in his seat getting right to the point. “And frankly, sir, I don't want Regan anywhere near him.” That gets my mom's attention.

  She hurriedly washes her hands and finds a seat at the table. “What do you have against Paul?”

  Lane raises his brows and lays it out. “He doesn't respect women.”

  Dad scoots against the back of his chair, tall and straight. “He called me to ask permission to take Regan out. I would call that being respectful.”

  “He's not the kind of guy you want your daughter to go out with.”

  It’s like watching a ping-pong match. Back and forth. “And why is that?”

  “Paul's a—a hunter. He likes to hunt girls.”

  “Is that what you kids call courting these days?” I almost laugh out loud. Is Dad serious? Lane chews on the inside of his cheek.

  “Timothy.” My mom gives Dad a warning of sorts.

  Lane sits back against the chair, glancing at me. He's totally annoyed.

  The phone rings but my hands are messy from cleaning up. “Mom?” She turns to me, and I hold up my hands.

  Lane's eyes narrow slightly as they follow her to answer the phone. He blinks and then focuses on my dad. “No, that's not what we call dating. Mr. Stone, Paul plays this game. He likes to search out a GG, a Good Girl, and takes her out on a date. He courts her for as long as it takes.” He's calmer than I’d be in this conversation. “He pursues her, tells her what she wants to hear, and wears her down until—”

  “Timothy, it's for you.” Mom walks towards Dad with the phone.

  The left side of Dad’s face pinches together. “That's quite an accusation.”

  Lane gives a slight shrug. “He knows how to charm girls and their parents.” I grimace at that last part.

  Mom hands Dad the phone before he can reply. She sits next to him, intent on his conversation as if she's part of it, too.

  I look at Lane, my eyes bugging out, telling him without words that I'm done with all this nonsense. He gives me his it will be okay expression. My grim response causes him to come to the kitchen. Once beside me, he chuckles and says softly, “I think I need a drink now.” I nod to the cabinet with the glasses. He gets a glass of water and refills mine. Thirsty, I wash my hands and chug.

  My dad's words catch my attention. “Thank you for calling, Paul.”

  I spit my water out, coughing, trying not to choke. Lane rips some paper towels off and quickly wipes the floor. I'm still coughing a little when Dad hangs up.

  “Well, that was our dinner guest.” His chair scoots across the floor as he stands. “He called to cancel.”

  “Good,” I breathe, relieved. Lane stands and I mouth to him, “Thank you.” I take the paper towels to the trash.

  Dad places the phone on the table and turns toward Lane. “Did you say something to Paul about Regan?”

  Lane’s eyes flash in surprise, but he recovers quickly and spins around. He clears his throat. “Well …” He struts toward dad, squaring up, straightening to his full height. “I had a talk with Paul. I tried to reason with him about Regan. When he didn't agree, I gave him a black eye to change his mind.” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal.

  “You what?” I told him not to do anything stupid.

  He continues calmly. “Cameron was with me. Paul's not the guy you’d let your sister go out with.” He turns to face me. “Cameron and I both had a talk with him. Paul knows we're both good friends of yours. He won't lay a finger on you.” He turns back to my dad.

  “I'm impressed.” He grasps Lane's shoulder.

  My eyes pop out at his response. “Dad.” I can’t believe this. My dad is for Lane punching Paul?

  “He's protecting you.” Sometimes I don’t get Dad. He's not into violence but applauds Lane for punching Paul? “I thought maybe you two were just trying to get Regan out of dinner tomorrow.” Dad drops his hand from Lane's shoulder.

  “Of course, I want her to be at my party, but I don't play games like that.” Look at him, going toe-to-toe with my dad but still being what my dad would consider respectful. Anyone who can hold up against my dad like that is … awesome! Dang, Lane just became more attractive.

  Dad grins. “Thank you for looking after my daughter.” He steps into the kitchen to put his glass in the sink.

  I move to stand next to Lane. He glances at me. “My pleasure.”

  Between my too tight ponytail and the drama of the whole night, the headache I’ve been fighting isn’t going away. I close my eyes, reach up, and unwind the rubber band out of my hair. It's strangely quiet, but I continue to shake out my hair running my fingers through it, massaging my scalp where the band pulled tight. When I open my eyes, and look up, Lane's watching me, and his eyes look like they did that night in the shed. Intense, studious, with a half grin. He’s like a magnet when he looks at me like this. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see my parents are looking at us. “What? All this talk about Paul is giving me a headache.” I massage my scalp again.

  “I should get going.” Lane turns to my dad. “Good-night Mr. Stone. Thanks for hearing me out.”

  Dad shakes his hand. “It’s been very enlightening.”

  Mom gives him a hug. “Regan’s lucky to have such a good friend.”

  16

  The first day of school was all wrong. Even with Tobi, Haylee, and Cameron, I still feel like something’s missing. In between classes, I kept expecting to see Lane in the hallway or at lunch. The only thing that was normal was Stacey. I worked with her Saturday. She had a little girl with her for the first shift. She swam while Stacey lifeguarded. I found out the girl is our new science teacher’s daughter. He knows the Fanigers somehow. Stacey wasn’t her normal self that day—she was almost nice. By Monday, she was back to her nasty self. She chose to sit right next to me in first period, dual-credit composition. She’s been snarling at me ever since.

  I have volleyball practice until six every night but Friday this week. Lane’s been over every night after practice. We play cards, board games, and sit on the patio, or go fishing or swimming. He has something going on at EIU today, and he won’t be around.

  I didn’t want to get out of bed this morning. I can’t seem to focus. I keep wondering what Lane’s doing. I have no idea what's going on in class. It's like I see the teachers, but their voices come out like waves of white noise. Practice is terrible. I end up running a lot for missing digs.

  “Regan, what's with you? Square up and get under the ball.” Tobi tries to get me to snap out of it.

  After practice, she gives me a ride home. “Rey, what's going on with you? You've been weird all day.”

  I'm sitting there like a zombie, staring out the passenger window
, and don't even realize it. “I don't know. I just feel like, like I can't focus or something. I've been out of it since I got up this morning.”

  “I bet you got in an extra mile from the sprints Coach made you run.”

  “Yeah.”

  Silence.

  “What's Lane been doing this week?”

  My elbow is propped on the door frame while my hand holds my head up. “Uh, he's been over some. Just hanging out.”

  Silence.

  “Hmm. I haven't seen or heard from him since the weekend.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Huh.”

  Silence.

  “He told Cameron he has a lot going on this week, and he's too busy to play ball or get together.”

  Silence.

  This short conversation takes place over the entire drive to my house.

  “Regan, what's wrong?” I look at her and shrug. “I'm your best friend, right? I hate it when you clam up like this. Talk to me.”

  “Thanks, Tobi. I, I don’t know.” I rub my arm. “I’m still trying to figure it out myself.”

  “I know what your problem is.”

  “What?”

  “This weekend is D-Day.”

  I stare at her and raise my brows. “No comprendo.”

  “Lane's leaving this weekend.” She looks at me incredulously. “For being so smart, sometimes you’re so dumb.”

  My head falls back against the seat and I stare at the ceiling through her moon roof. “Thanks.”

  “It's okay for you to like him, Regan. It's okay for you two to be together. Really, it is.” I sigh and roll my head to the side to see her small smile. “Now get out of my car, I need to go home and change for the sale barn. I'm not even going to bother to shower. The only cute things I see while I'm there are the calves anyway.” She always finds a way to make me laugh when I need it. “Maybe those old men will stay away from me if I smell bad.”

  “You're such a goober.” I get out. She revs her engine and takes off, throwing rocks with her tires at the end of the drive as a farewell.

  The lightheartedness Tobi left me with diminishes as I sit down at the table to do my homework. I think about what Tobi said but try to push it out of my head to do my work. There's not much for me to do, a little math, but I'm up and down, asking dad the score of the Cardinals game, getting a drink, using the bathroom, anything—for over an hour. Mom’s working on an alteration at the table, too.

  “Regan, you’re wearing me out with your up-and-down business. What's the matter with you?”

  I shrug, closing my book. “I don't know.”

  “How was school today?” She has her glasses on, hand-stitching something on what looks like a wedding dress.

  “Boring. Fine.” I watch her fingers move slowly and deliberately with the needle and thread.

  “Boring?”

  “I felt like I was trapped in that boring classroom from Ferris Bueller's Day Off. 'Anyone—Anyone.'“

  She snickers. “Really, which class?”

  “All.”

  “Hmm.” She keeps an amused smile on her face. “Is Lane coming over tonight?” She glances up from her project to look at me.

  “Probably not. He's moving some things into his dorm room today.”

  I've gotten used to the idea of our being more than friends. I've gotten used to seeing him every day, just being with him, feeling—more. If I'm restless because of him … because I haven't seen him today, how am I going to handle not seeing him for a whole week or even longer? I grit my teeth. These walls are closing in on me. I need to do something, anything.

  “I'm going for a walk.” I stand up so fast, I knock the chair over. After I pick it up, I put my homework away in my bag and toss it on the floor of my room.

  Mom knocks on the door frame as I pull my shoes out of my closet. “Do you mind if I go with you?” She hasn't been on a walk with me for a long time, since spring, maybe?

  “Uh … sure I guess.” I’m not in a good mood and would rather go by myself. Shoes in hand, I take a small flashlight off the counter where we keep the keys on the wall. I sit outside on the steps, and put my shoes on while I wait for her. She comes out the door. “Where do you want to walk?” I ask, spraying myself with the mosquito repellant. She reaches for it to spray herself.

  “Wherever you were planning on going is fine.”

  Okay then. I'll lead the way to Fox Creek, hoping to find it soothing tonight.

  “It's starting to get dark. Do we need a flashlight?”

  I hold up the small one. “I already have one.”

  We hit the path across the yard. The light is soft and gentle, and there are already shadows in the woods. The crickets and frogs replace the song of the locust. Though the leaves of the canopy are rustling, I don't feel the breeze down on the path. At least the humidity has lessened. Inhaling deep, my lungs fill with the woodland air laden with leaves of plants and trees, hints of earth and honeysuckle. I relax a little.

  Mom gives me just the right amount of time before she speaks up. “What has you riled up this evening? You seem out-of-sorts.”

  “I don't know. A lot of things simmering in my mind, I guess.” I keep my pace, eager for the sight and sound of the creek.

  “Tell me one thing.”

  Tell her one thing? Sure, let's see what she has to say about this. My eyes narrow, but I look down the path. “How about you tell me why you went along with Dad's invitation to Paul for dinner when you knew Lane's party was that night?”

  She pauses so long, I’m not sure she’s going to answer. “Your father is very hard-headed on some things. I've learned over the years which ones he’ll budge on.” Her voice is calm and even.

  I shake my head. “Did you even tell him I had plans? I mean, it was an important night for Lane and for me.” My voice is raised, and my arms become more than a little animated.

  “Yes, I did tell him. But he forgot about it, sweetie.” She rubs my back gently as we walk. “When Paul called to ask for his permission to take you out, he was so impressed by it, he asked Paul to supper.”

  My hands clench into fists by my side. “Why wouldn't he cancel when I told him and you told him about Lane's party?” I keep looking back and forth from her to the opening ahead.

  “I know it's hard to understand. He gave his word, and he didn't want to go back on it.”

  “He gave his word and even though the information was flawed, he had to keep it? Even after I told him Paul already asked me out and I told him no, he wouldn't cancel? Even if I gave my word to be at Lane's party?” I want to scream. “Argh!” I need to run, to get away from here. I want to run down Lane's hidden railroad tracks behind the pond at the park. Run to some far-off place. Run to freedom. My stomach begins to churn. Can I take two more years here? Two more years of my dad’s interference? Two more years without having Lane to lean on through the week?

  “It all worked out, though, didn't it?” She tries to soften my thoughts.

  I rub my palm against my sternum, trying to release the pressure in my chest. “Thanks to Lane. If I'd told Dad what kind of guy Paul was, he wouldn't have believed me. I'm not sure he would've believed Lane if Paul didn't call to cancel. And if Lane hadn't given him a black eye.” At least I'll have Tobi here when Lane's not.

  Mom doesn’t say anything. I want to throw myself on the ground, kick and scream, it’s not fair. But I know it would only make things worse.

  Mom chuckles. “Lane certainly took care of Paul.”

  I glance at her sideways with my brows raised. “I had no idea he was going to do something like that. Guys are, are …” I start giggling. “I would like to have seen Lane and Cameron both in action. Cameron was probably hilarious.” I begin to laugh hard just thinking about some of the idiotic things he would've said. I can picture Cameron doing some Three Stooges thing. Mom's laughing, too. I stop and catch my breath.

  I sigh and stand upright. “Come on.” I see the clearing and pick
up the pace again, anticipating the change. It's dusk already. At least when I get back to the house, it’ll be an acceptable time to go to bed.

  Mom moves to the bench. “Let's sit.”

  We sit on the bench together. I have so many memories here, but right now I only think of the ones with Lane. I try to focus on the movement of the water, but it's getting hard to see, so I close my eyes to listen to the water flow.

  “Is there anything else—other reasons—you've been out of sorts tonight?”

  She can tell something else is wrong, but I don't think she necessarily suspects that I want Lane here to calm my racing mind, to hold my hand, to tell me everything will be okay. I try to ignore her and hold on to the rhythm of the water washing against the banks, fallen limbs, and rocks. Mom’s talking again but, I've tuned her out, clinging to the little relief the liquid music brings me.

  “Regan …” Mom leans against me. The physical contact gets my attention.

  I open my eyes. “Hmmm?”

  “Did you hear anything I just said?”

  I sigh on the inside. I don’t want to talk about it. “You want to know why I'm acting weird?”

  “That was earlier.” She puts her arm around me and hugs me into her side. “Are you having trouble with Lane leaving?”

  That's all it took. I close my eyes and my lip begins to quiver. The water works start streaming as if someone turned a switch on. I’m trying like crazy to fight them back.

  “I know you two are close. Maybe you’re closer than you think.” She rubs my arm. “There's something different between the two of you.” I give no indication, say nothing—other than my stupid tears—that she's right. “If I'm right, you two better talk to your father before he finds out some other way. He's very protective of you. I know you don't understand it. He loves you so much.”

  We walk back to the house in silence. I'm not willing to utter any words. The solace of the water was short-lived, and I'm fighting to keep the restlessness away, hoping a hot shower will wash it down the drain with the mosquito spray. I lie in bed and wait for sleep to come carry me away.