I clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp-turned-laugh. It was a respectable work of art, an impressionistic flurry of bright strokes and shapes, but still a graphic depiction of two naked bodies.
“And look at this one.” He set it down and hurried to grab another. The dewy, pale smudges made up a woman in the nude.
“Wow,” I said. “They’re beautiful.”
“I always knew she liked to paint and do crafts, but I didn’t know she was this talented.”
“Are these your dad’s books?” I asked, gesturing around.
“Yeah.” Levi lifted his eyes to the shelves. A number of emotions, dark and peaceful, coexisted effortlessly in that expression. Again, I felt as if I had seen something too intimate for words, glimpsed it through a window before getting a chance to knock on the door.
An empty feeling of loss overcame me as I thought of Grandma Kerry. I wanted answers about the mark under her bed, her writing in that
book.
I walked to the window facing the backyard and looked outside. Avery was a smiling blur on the tire swing.
Noticing a book of Pablo Neruda poems sitting spine-up on the window seat, I brushed the title. “Was this one of his favorites?”
“One of many,” Levi said. “When I was nine, he found me reading that and put it in the restricted section.” He pointed to the top shelf. I wouldn’t be able to it reach it, but grown-up Levi wouldn’t even have to stretch.
A stack of old photographs lay on a cardboard box nearby. I set down the book and picked up the top picture of familiar young women sitting on a porch. “Hey, that’s my grandma!”
Levi moved close behind me. He smelled like sweat, in a good way. I flashed back to after the kiss, hoping he would call me, wondering if he would come home during fall break, scolding myself into getting over him when he didn’t show up during winter break. It was easy now to remember why I’d hoped.
“I think Miss Maggie gave that to my mom when she was making a history exhibit for last year’s Heritage Festival,” he said, and I felt his deep voice near me. “My mom didn’t end up using it because of the cigarettes.”
I checked the date written on the back—1970—and studied the image more closely. The colors were bright but tinged with the faded yellow of early color photographs. Fair-haired Kerry sat on a lawn chair in a red floral dress with a collar and long sleeves, casually holding a cigarette, her bare toes dug in the grass. The other wore a green polka-dot skirt with a ruffled white blouse, and her chestnut hair was neatly smoothed back by a white headband. Her round, kindly eyes smiled as she took a drag from her cigarette. My fingers went stiff. “Is that Miss Maggie with my grandma? I didn’t know they were friends.”
“Really?” Levi asked, surprised.
I looked up at him, mentally stiff-arming my appreciation for his shapely lips and the dust of light freckles beneath his tan so I could focus. “Don’t you think that’s odd? I never even saw my grandma talk to her.”
He gave me a curious look, narrowing his eyes as though I’d said something strange. “It’s been more than fifty years. Maybe they drifted apart.”
“Maybe,” I agreed quietly, thinking of the secret journal in my desk drawer at home.
A feral screech drew us both to the window. “Better go check on them. Can I borrow this?”
“Be my guest.” Levi gestured for me to exit the study first. I slipped the photo into the pocket of my sundress and jogged downstairs, his clunky footsteps right behind. The screeching grew louder as we rounded the corner into the kitchen and burst through the back door.
“Is she hurt?” I made a mad dash to the tire swing.
“No, I just told her that a rhyme she heard wasn’t a nice thing to repeat,” Emmy said, sounding distressed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset her.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I wiped the tears off Avery’s face so I could work the pink glasses back over her head. “Did you say something that wasn’t nice to Miss Emmy?”
After palming away another tear, she clapped her hands together and recited, with hand motions, “Here’s the church, here’s the steeple, lock the doors, and kill all the people.”
She laughed hysterically. I’d seen enough horror movies that the twisted nursery rhyme made goose bumps prickle down my legs.
“Avery, Miss Emmy is in charge of you now. If she says you’re not allowed to do something, you have to obey her or there will be consequences. Do you understand?”
Circling her toes on the grass, Avery nodded.
“Are you sure it’s okay if I watch her today?” Emmy asked.
“You’ll be fine,” I assured her. “She likes you! And you can text me if you need anything.”
The back door swung open and Mrs. Langford appeared on the porch. Tall and elegant with a glossy, highlighted bob, she looked like someone who had it all together. Her summery blouse was tucked into slacks and topped by a linen blazer. “Hello, Natalie,” she called. I thought I could see her features chill slowly, like lukewarm water poured over ice.
“Hi, Mrs. Langford.”
An uncomfortable silence yawned. As a ritual, even unexpected visits in San Solano were met with an offer of sweet tea.
Did she disapprove of me? I glanced down at my dress. It was shorter than the school dress code had allowed, but not short enough to advertise the goods.
“Well, I guess I’d better go,” I said, and looked at Levi. “See you at the lake?”
“Yeah, I’ll see you there.”
“We’ll walk you out,” Emmy offered, taking Avery’s hand again.
The glass outer door had already shut behind Mrs. Langford. Emmy chatted aimlessly as we walked up the porch steps and into the kitchen. Levi traipsed behind us.
“Have a good day, Natalie,” Mrs. Langford said, her statuesque cheek bones looking somehow cruel even as they participated in a soft smile. No “you’re welcome any time” or “tell your mom I said hello.”
“Bye, Mrs. Langford,” I replied, attempting to sound unfazed. As Emmy led me to the front door, I overheard Levi and his mom whispering in the kitchen. Emmy was busy talking to Avery and didn’t notice this not-so-discreet conversation.
“I told you to discourage Emmy from taking that job,” I could hear Mrs. Langford say.
“What was I supposed to say? That certain people are off-limits?”
Off-limits? Who did Levi mean? Certainly not Kate—she had babysat Levi and Emmy when she was a teenager. The Langfords were close to Miss Maggie, too.
But that left only me. Did Mrs. Langford know about the kiss? Did she wrongfully think I would get her son into trouble, or hear a fabricated rumor about me being promiscuous? She didn’t seem to fit the holier-than-thou, premarital purity–obsessed profile, but I couldn’t think of another explanation. Except the ancient drama between Lillian and Malachi.
Lillian and Malachi. I remembered the photograph of Miss Maggie and my grandma in my pocket and itched to have another look.
Levi caught up to me. “See you later, Nat,” he said, his demeanor suddenly frosty even as he opened the door for me.
“Later,” I said, forcing a smile.