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“Why didn’t you? You could have asked me out, or talked to me. Why not?”
“Because you were so perfect. You are so perfect. And I was a bearded mountain man roaming the forest like a beast. I thought you might faint if I talked to you.”
She straightened her spine. “Faint? Are you kidding? What do you think I am? I’m not perfect. What do you think you are?”
“I just said what I—”
“Do you really think I’m afraid of a beard?” she interrupted. “Why would you have a crush on someone who’s afraid of a beard?”
“It’s not just the beard, it’s everything.” He ducked his head, looking miserable.
She remembered something he’d said on the trail. “When we were hiking, you said I could never be ordinary. That was because you had a crush on me?”
“It’s because it’s true.”
There was so much more she wanted to ask…was he ever planning to tell her…what about when they kissed…did he still have this crush…was it real or one of those transient, fantasy things that disappeared when they met reality…
But raised voices from the dining room interrupted. And then came a crashing sound.
Brenda ran into the dining room to find one chair upended, and her grandmother on her feet, brandishing a cluster of grapes in one fist.
Her mother was in mid-rant. “CeCe, you’re a terrible influence on my daughter. She never would have behaved this way before she came here.” She wheeled on Brenda. “How long are you going to stay here in this forgotten little wasteland? It’s about the size of a frog that got run over by a car. It’s not funny anymore. You should both come back to Connecticut. ”
Brenda exchanged a shocked look with her grandmother, then faced her mother. “Is that why you came here? To get us to leave?”
“It is. Since the senior home burned down, this is the perfect time to make the move.”
“Boo on you.” CeCe pelted her with a grape. Then she threw another, and another, until Laney shielded herself with her arms.
“See? You’re all turning into barbarians!”
As if on cue, Galen stepped into the room and into the path of one of CeCe’s grapes. He captured it with a quick motion, eyed it, then popped it into his mouth.
“Barbarians,” repeated Mom.
seventeen
Later that night, Galen lay awake in his king-size bed with the lush pillowtop mattress—his haven when he got back from a guiding job. The windows of his first-floor bedroom were flung open, because even though it was early October, he needed air.
Had dinner with the McMurray women been an unmitigated disaster, or just a minor disaster? He couldn’t decide. After that grape had gone into his mouth, he’d lost track of events. Perhaps even dissociated a little, the way he did when an especially obnoxious group wanted to throw beer cans into ravines.
There had been angry words spoken by everyone except him. There had been threats of various kinds—never speaking again, telling your father, disinheriting.
Every time he tried to leave, Brenda would grab his hand and silently urge him to stay. So he did, even though he had nothing to say that was at all helpful, except for occasionally speaking up for the goodness of the Lake Bittersweet community.
When he’d finally left, Brenda had put a hand to her ear in the “I’ll call you” gesture. But she hadn’t. He hoped she was okay, and that she wasn’t already typing up her letter of resignation from the school.
A hiss sounded from his open window, an odd bird sound that he didn’t recognize. He sat up in bed and saw a dark figure hovering outside his window.
“Galen. It’s Brenda. Are you awake?”
“Yeah. What’s wrong?” There had to be some bizarre emergency to bring her to his house after midnight. How did she even know where he lived? Then again, anyone could have told her, it wasn’t exactly a secret.
“Can I come in?”
“There’s a window screen,” he said stupidly, as if that was the main issue. “I mean, yeah, hang on.”
He got out of bed and crossed to the window, where he set about uninstalling the screen.
