All the Little Lights
Page 40

“Really?” Leigh said, excited.
John nodded and kissed her one last time before nodding to me. “Nice to meet you, Catherine. Hope we see you around more often.”
“You will,” Elliott said.
John and Leigh were exactly what marriage should look like. Helping each other, affection, and understanding. They were on the same side, like Elliott and me. I smiled at him as he helped me put on my jacket and again when he held the front door open for me. I stopped on the porch, waiting for him to slide on his letterman jacket before taking my hand.
“Ready?” he asked.
We walked together in the dark toward the Juniper. Dead leaves somersaulted down the street, their brittle edges hissing against the asphalt as they moved together in herds with the chilly wind.
“So? What did you think?” he asked, his tone laced with hesitation.
“Tonight was fun.”
“Which part?”
“Um,” I began, “watching you play. Sitting with Leigh and Kay. Eating dinner with your family. Watching you inhale your mom’s and Leigh’s cooking. Now this.”
He held up our clasped hands. “This is my favorite, and winning, and making that touchdown, and when you held up your hand.”
“You mean this?” I said, making the I love you sign with my fingers.
“Yeah. My mom use to do it before my Pee Wee games. Then Aunt Leigh did. I don’t know, though. With you, it’s different.” He paused, thinking about his next words. “Did you mean it?”
“Are you asking if I love you?” I asked.
He shrugged, looking vulnerable.
We stopped at my gate, and Elliott opened it, closing it again after I stepped through. I rested my arms on top of the iron, smiling. He leaned over to peck my lips.
“How do you know?” I asked.
He thought about my question only for a few moments. “Catherine, every time I’m close to you, I’m aware of every breath you take. When we’re not, everything reminds me of you. I know because nothing else matters.”
I thought about his words, then turned to look at the Juniper. I had responsibilities, but were they more important than Elliott? Could I walk away from them if he needed me to? Mama needed me. I didn’t think I could.
Elliott saw the worry in my eyes. “You don’t have to say it. You don’t have to say anything.”
I slowly held up my hand, extending my index and pinky fingers and thumb. Elliott smiled, did the same, and then cupped my cheeks, kissing my cheek. His lips were soft, but they blazed against my cold skin.
“Good night,” he whispered. He watched me step over the uneven pieces of sidewalk and then climb the steps to my porch. Just as I put my hand on the knob, the door flew open.
A woman stood in the dark doorway, clothed all in black.
“Willow?” I said.
“Where have you been? Your mama’s been waiting for you for hours.”
I turned to look at Elliott. He was frowning in confusion but then waved.
I waved back, pushing my way through the door and then pulling Willow inside so I could close it.
She yanked her arm away. “What are you doing?”
“He can’t see you,” I hissed.
“Who?” she asked.
“Elliott!”
“Oh.” She crossed her arms. “Is he your boyfriend?”
I frowned at her as I pulled off my jacket, hanging it on a hook by the door. Almost everyone else’s coats were on it, too: Mama’s chocolate-brown fuzzy coat, Althea’s maroon wrap coat, Duke’s trench coat, Poppy’s pink duffel coat, Willow’s black leather jacket, and Tess’s dirty white quilted parka with a matted fur-lined hood.
“Is your room satisfactory?” I asked.
“I guess.” She sniffed. “Is that your boyfriend?” Willow was shifting her weight from one leg to the other. She could never sit still, was always a ball of nervous energy. She didn’t stay at the Juniper very often, just spending the night on her way somewhere . . . anywhere. Mama called her a vagrant. Experiencing firsthand Willow’s mood swings from bouncy to debilitating depression, I called her other things.
When I didn’t answer, Willow’s eyes widened. “Wow, okay. I guess I’ll go back to my room.”
“Good night,” I said, heading toward the kitchen. I used a rag to wipe down the leftover crumbs, grease, and pasta sauce drippings from dinner. A low hum and swishing sounds came from the dishwashers, and I was thankful that Mama had at least done that. I had a worksheet to complete, a paper to write, and an early Saturday morning running the kitchen. The rest of the day would hopefully be spent with Elliott.
“Hey,” a small voice said from across the kitchen island.
I glanced up for a moment before concentrating on a stubborn drop of sauce. “Hey.”
“Are you mad at me? I know it’s been a while since I’ve been over, but my parents are acting crazy again, and you’ve been . . . busy.”
“No, Tess. Of course not. You’re right. I’ve been busy, but I should make time for friends. I’m sorry.” I opened the cabinet under the sink and searched for the kitchen spray. I spritzed the counter, wiping with the cloth in my hand.
A loud bump sounded on the ceiling, and Tess and I both looked up slowly.
“What was that?” Tess asked, still staring at the ceiling.
The house was silent again, but we waited for a few more moments. “I don’t know. Lots of coats by the door. We’re full.”
“I saw Poppy when I got here. She’s probably running around up there.”
I put away the kitchen spray. “Let’s find out, shall we?”
“What do you mean?” Tess asked. When I passed her, she scrambled to follow. “That’s a bad idea. You don’t know who’s up there.”
I jingled the keys as I walked up the stairs. “But I can find out.”
Only one door was closed in the upstairs hallway. I chose the corresponding key and turned it in the doorknob, pushing it open. A man was standing in a button-down shirt, boxers, tall socks, and nothing else.
“Holy shit!” he yelled, covering himself.
“Oh my God! Oh! I’m so sorry!”
“Who are you?” he cried.
“I’m . . . I’m Mavis’s daughter. I heard a loud noise. I didn’t realize you’d checked in. I’m so sorry, sir. Very sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“Close the door! What kind of place is this?”
I slammed the door and closed my eyes as I heard the man rush over to turn the lock.
Tess wasn’t happy. “I told you,” she said, peeking from the top of the stairs.
I covered my eyes, trying to gather my thoughts, and then shook my head, rushing for the stairs. “I can’t believe I did that.” I looked through the log, seeing William Heitmeyer written down in Mama’s handwriting. I looked up, wondering if I should offer him a full refund and suggest the Super 8.
“It was an honest mistake,” Tess assured me.
“I didn’t even check the book. I just assumed the noise upstairs was something weird, because weird is the norm around here.”
“Don’t say that. He’ll come back.”
“They never come back.” I peeked back at her. “Don’t go up there. Stay away from his room.”
She held up her hands. “What? Have I ever done anything to make you think I would? Why would you even say that to me?”