Dark River Road Page 8

  Outside his open window, the moon tracked across the sky and the breeze got really cool. A bird whistled. It was soft and quiet inside, not even Rainey making any noise. He’d passed out early tonight. Chantry lay looking at the stars and waiting for sleep to come. For some reason he felt all restless. Maybe it was the cool air.

  When he heard a faint scratching sound, his first thought was a mouse or maybe a raccoon had come up on the porch. Then a head suddenly appeared on the other side of his window screen and he sat up like a shot. “Hey!”

  “Shh,” Tansy said with a soft giggle. “Come outside.”

  He lowered his voice. “Are you crazy? What are you doing here?”

  “Come outside and see, dumbass.”

  This wouldn’t be the first time they’d snuck off at night to go walking or even down to sit on the riverbanks, but not in a long time. He grabbed his Levi’s and shoes and put them on, then snatched a hooded sweatshirt from the dresser and went out his window. Tansy waited for him under the black walnut tree at the edge of the front yard. Hard green and black shells littered the ground.

  She had a sack with her, and held it up. “Thought we’d drink a little cherry wine.”

  “You are crazy.” He shrugged into his sweatshirt. “Where?”

  “I knew you’d be interested. Come on.”

  “What’s the big occasion?” he asked when they were farther away from the house. Tansy walked slightly ahead of him, and when she turned off to take the field road, he knew where she was headed.

  “Independence day,” she said over her shoulder.

  “That’s in July.”

  “Not mine.”

  “Oo-kay.” She’d sounded a little funny. She wore a short skirt and a sweater, and her long legs were bare except for some little boots that came up to her ankles. Once they got back onto the road, it was pitch black. Only the moon provided any light, and now that the trees were bare, it flickered down to barely illuminate the familiar path. Not that either of them needed it. They’d been coming this way since they were six years old, and could have walked it blindfolded.

  They didn’t talk again until they reached the gully near the railroad bridge. It was a lot cooler here, since the river was just down the bluff to the west. Long ago they’d made a hideout, their own personal place to go whenever they wanted to be by themselves. Sometimes they went alone, but by unspoken consent, neither had ever brought anyone else here. It was just theirs. Through the years they’d furnished it with candle stubs, lanterns, cast-off cushions and blankets, and plastic tubs with a changing supply of basics.

  Tansy set the wine down on a wooden spool that had once held electrical cable, and felt in the dark for the lantern. Even though it was near the river, it rarely flooded here. The railroad had built up the entire area with tons of dirt and rock, and then planted trees to stop erosion. In the summer, kudzu got a good hold on the place, leaves draped down all green and thick to hide the entrance from view. Now the kudzu had died back and only brown leathery vines formed a veil.

  Chantry spread out a blanket he took from the plastic tub. It smelled musty, and minty too from the sprigs of mint Tansy had put in to keep moths and mice away if they somehow chewed through the barrier of plastic. Light flared as the lantern took, then steadied to a flickering glow.

  Tansy poured wine into two plastic cups and gave him one. “Cheers,” she said, and tilted back her head and drained hers. He stared at her.

  “What’s the matter with you?”

  “Nothing. Everything.” She suddenly sounded miserable.

  He took a sip of wine. It was sweet. It was warmer in here in the cave formed by dirt and rock and vines, and he unzipped the neck of his sweatshirt. When she was ready to tell him, she would. She just had to find her own way to tell it. He drank some more wine and waited.

  It smelled like cherries and mint, and he breathed deep, staring out the shrouded entrance at the chipped moonlight dancing on the river. He liked the sound the river made, liked the way it looked at night, all silky and mysterious. Kinda like Tansy. He looked over at her again. She stared back at him, lantern light flickering on her face and wide eyes. Her legs were pulled up to her chest, long and bare and really pretty. He could see almost all the way up her skirt. He looked away.

  He thought suddenly of his guilty dreams, and felt uncomfortable. He shouldn’t even think of that when he was here with her. It felt like a betrayal somehow.

  “Chantry, do you think I’m pretty?”

  He hadn’t expected that question and answered honestly. “You’re the prettiest girl I know, except maybe for Cinda.”

  She bit her lower lip and looked away, and he knew he hadn’t given her the right answer. It made him feel bad. And confused.

  “What’s going on, Tansy?”

  She put her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook, and he realized with horror that she was crying. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to comfort her, but wasn’t sure if she really wanted him to touch her or even if he should.

  After a minute, she put down her hands and looked up at him. Tears still streaked her cheeks. “You were right, Chantry. I should have listened to you.”

  He got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what she would say next.

  “About . . . about Chris.” She looked down at her hands, twisted her fingers together for a moment, then reached for the wine again. She poured another cup, and looked up at him with a trace of defiance when he made a sound of protest. “I guess I really knew it, but I didn’t want to think it was true. I wanted to think I was different. Dammit, I am different. I don’t fit in anywhere I know. What am I supposed to be? Who am I supposed to be? Look at me, Chantry. I’m not ugly and I’m not stupid. I have feelings. I have dreams. There are things I want to do in life, places I want to go. I don’t want people to look at me and say There goes a black girl. I don’t even want them to say There goes a white girl. I want them to say . . . to say, There goes Tansy Rivers. Isn’t she something?”

  “I’ll say that, Tansy, and I’ll mean it. You are something.”

  She gave him a look almost of desperation, and he felt like he hadn’t said the right thing. Again.

  “I don’t know how to say what I feel,” she said after a moment. Her voice lowered to a soft whisper. “I just feel so . . . different. So alone.”

  He understood that feeling well enough. Except for Tansy he didn’t have anyone to talk to either. But he didn’t know if he’d know how anyway. He wasn’t good at saying stuff.

  “You’re not alone, Tansy. You have me.”

  “Do I?” Her eyes swung back to him, studied his face. “Do you love me, Chantry?”

  He frowned. “Of course I do. I always have.”

  “No. I mean do you love me. Really love me.”

  He didn’t know what she wanted him to say so he didn’t say anything, just looked at her. Time ticked past, marked by the rush of the river outside and the flicker of the lantern. Tansy leaned close to him. He could smell the flowery perfume she used, and something else, something that wasn’t familiar. Her voice was low, intense.

  “Have you ever done it, Chantry?”

  “Done it?” She couldn’t mean what it sounded like. He stared at her. She stared back.

  “You know. Had sex. Done it with a girl. Have you?”

  “Jesus, Tansy, why d’you want to go and ask me something like that?”

  “You haven’t. If you had, you’d say so.” She took another sip of wine, looked at him over the rim of the cup. “Me either. I want to do it with you, Chantry. Now. Tonight. Right here.”

  He started to sweat. His throat got tight and he had this funny feeling low in his belly and then even lower. He looked away from her. “You don’t know what you’re sayin’.”

  “Yes, I do. Oh yes. I do. I want to . . . to be with you. My choice. My decision.”

  His eyes narrowed with sudden suspicion. “Did Chris Quinton do something bad to you?” />
  “Not like you mean. But you were right. That’s what he wanted from me. That’s all he wanted from me. He said . . .” She paused and her throat worked soundlessly for a moment. She looked down, then back up. Her lashes made shadows on her cheeks. “He said girls like me can’t expect anything else. He’d said he wanted to be with me, to spend time with me, to show me off. And I thought he meant he wanted to take me to the Fall Festival.”

  “But he didn’t,” Chantry said when she fell silent, and she shook her head.

  “No. He’s taking Mariah Sewell. She’s white. I’m not.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth to steady it. “He said I’m colored, not white, not black, just—colored.”

  He put a hand atop hers. “You’re a beautiful color. Like a . . . like a rainbow.”

  Tiny teardrops clung to the tips of her lashes. She blinked them away. One slid down her cheek and he caught it with his fingertip, smearing it on her skin. She caught his hand and held it in hers, staring at him.

  They were so close that he could almost hear her heartbeat. He looked at her mouth, the way her lips were parted and soft, and thought, This is Tansy. I can’t do this.

  Then she kissed him before he could pull away. It was his first real kiss. It felt like he’d been sucker punched in the belly. All the air left his lungs and all he could focus on was how soft her mouth was and how good she tasted. His heart beat faster and all the blood rushed south. He felt like he did in his dreams, hot and achy and full.

  They kept kissing and he didn’t know where to put his hands, didn’t want to touch her and didn’t want to not touch her. He thought of her that day at Six Oaks, her bare breast and the taut nipple that had been just inches from him. Then he remembered how Chris had stared at her too, and how Dempsey had come up to stop trouble before it started. Dempsey.

  It took an effort but he pulled away, breathing as hard as if he’d run a mile. His voice came out all wrong, hoarse and raspy. “I can’t. We can’t. It . . . it’s not right.”

  Tansy jerked away from him, eyes wide and golden in the lantern light. Her lips quivered. He stared back at her, feeling stupid.

  She made a strangled little sound, then got up and ran out of their secret cave and left him sitting there alone, knowing he’d ruined everything.

  He didn’t see Tansy for a while after that. She avoided him at school, didn’t come to the phone, and when he finally got up the nerve to go to her house, Dempsey told him she wasn’t there.

  “She stays busy lately,” he said, looking at Chantry as if he should know why. “I don’t hardly see her, what with her schooling and the extra work I been doin’ for the Sheridans.”

  Chantry nodded. He felt awkward. And guilty. He didn’t know why he should feel so guilty except maybe because he still had those dreams about Tansy, only worse now. Sometimes he didn’t want to go to sleep even when he was really tired after school, his job at the vet’s, and doing homework. He wanted the sleep, but he didn’t want the dreams.

  “Somethin’ goin’ on I should know about, Chantry?” Dempsey looked at him, and he had to look away.

  “I just wanted to know if she’s going to the Fall Festival. I’m helping Mama set up for it.”

  “Um hm. All right, then. I’ll tell her you came by.”

  It was the first time he could remember that he hadn’t been honest with Dempsey, but it wasn’t all his secret to tell.

  The day of the Fall Festival, he woke up with a cold. His head hurt, his throat felt scratchy and he kept sneezing. Mama told him he could stay home since he was sick but he’d already taken off work to help her and said he’d be okay. She gave him some cold medicine and told him to be in her sixth period class as soon as the bell rang. There were tables to set up, bunting to hang, and decorations to put on the gym walls.

  The cold medicine eased his symptoms but made him feel like he walked around in a daze. By his third period science class, all he could think about was taking a nap. He sat in the back of the room and tried to focus on the principles of chemical reaction. His eyes burned and he rubbed at them. When he took his hand away, a folded piece of paper lay on the surface of his desk.

  He blinked in surprise. He looked around, but no one looked back at him and he didn’t know who’d thrown it. It probably wasn’t even for him. The teacher, Mr. Winstead, still droned on about the properties of sulphuric acid. He put the note down in his lap and unfolded the top of it to look inside.

  Chantry, it read in girlish script, will you go with me to the festival tonight? It was signed Cinda. He read it twice to be sure it said what he thought. Then he looked up.

  Cinda Sheridan had her head bent over her open book, but she slanted him a sideways glance real quick. He didn’t know what to do, so just nodded even though he had no idea if he meant it. Mama was counting on him. And he had this damn cold.

  After class she came up to him when he got up from his desk. “Are you sure? I mean, I know it’s the last minute and all.”

  He stacked his books together to give himself time to think, and then said, “I thought you were going with Justin Dawson.”

  “I was. He has the chicken pox. And I need a date.”

  That was pretty blunt. He must have looked funny because she said real quick, “And I figured you’d never ask me to go anywhere so I’d just have to ask you.”

  That was true enough.

  “What about your cousin?” he asked after a minute, aware that the room had emptied and they were alone. “We don’t exactly get along.”

  “Chris is a jerk.”

  “Yeah, I know. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

  She smiled, and her green eyes nearly took his breath away. “He’s taking Mariah. Besides, he doesn’t have any say about who I see or where I go. He’s only my cousin.”

  Right. He didn’t say anything, only lifted his brow and after a second she shrugged. “I’ll worry about Chris. He won’t say anything to you while I’m with you.”

  “I’m not worried about him saying anything to me.”

  “Look, the bell’s gonna ring. Do you want to be my date tonight or not?”

  “Sure. I just don’t want any trouble.” He had no idea how he’d manage it. “Do you, uh, want me to pick you up or anything?”

  “No, I’ll just meet you here at seven. Out front. Okay?”

  She flashed him a smile and headed for the door, leaving him staring after her. He should feel pretty good right now. But he was scared half to death.

  CHAPTER 6

  Mama understood. He should have known she would. He did everything she needed him to do, set up the tables and strung bunting and lights from the high ceiling of the gym, folded the bleachers back and out of the way, and helped put cloths on all the tables. Donny Ray Caldwell helped, too, and he and Chantry went out back to drink a Coke after they were done.

  Donny Ray pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and shook one out, then looked up at Chantry. “Want one?”

  He’d never smoked a cigarette, except for one time when he was little and Beau had left one burning and he’d picked it up. He’d choked so badly he hadn’t wanted to try it again. Now he shook his head. “No thanks.”

  Donny Ray lit it, the smell of burning tobacco curling into the crisp afternoon air between them. “You comin’ back for the dance?” he asked, and Chantry nodded.

  “Yeah. Are you?”

  “Thought about it. My mother likes for me to participate in school activities. I’d rather be somewhere else. Anywhere else.”

  Donny Ray had gotten into a different crowd this year, boys with a lot of free time on their hands and just enough money to spend on things like cigarettes and hanging out at the Hamburger Shack. A rougher crowd hung out there, too, and sometimes there was trouble between them. Not often enough the sheriff had to get involved, but from what Chantry heard, often enough that it had a reputation as being a place to go if you wanted to find trouble. Even Chris and his gang hadn’t shown up there. Maybe because t
hey knew they’d probably get their butts kicked.

  “Got a date?” Donny Ray asked, and he didn’t want to answer so just shrugged.

  “Girls are too much trouble and too expensive,” Donny Ray said then, and took a deep drag off his cigarette. He was almost Chantry’s height, with brown hair and eyes and a pretty good build. He’d run track the year before and been pretty fast, Chantry recalled. “My dad said I could have the car tonight if you want to go somewhere after we get done here. Feel like it?”

  “I, uh, am s’posed to meet somebody,” he said after a minute, and because he wasn’t even sure Cinda would really show up like she’d said, felt stupid for saying that much. “Maybe. If it works out.”

  Donny Ray grinned. “Yeah? Did Cinda finally ask you?”

  Chantry stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

  “I heard them in the cafeteria a couple of days ago. Mariah said Cinda should ask you to go with her to the festival. She said you were pretty hot just ‘cause you beat up Chris Quinton, and that it’d show everyone if Cinda went with you to the dance. I don’t know what it’s supposed to show everyone except she’s got bad taste in guys, but girls never make much sense.”

  Donny Ray ducked sideways as if expecting a blow, still grinning, but Chantry was too surprised to play. They were talking about him? It felt weird to know Cinda had been talking about him to her friends.

  “I didn’t beat up Chris,” he said finally. “They kicked my ass.”

  “Not the way I heard it.” Donny dropped his cigarette to the gravel lot and ground it out with his foot. “You’re some kinda superhero for takin’ on three guys.”