Alice Bliss - Laura Harrington [113]
The day after graduation, John Kimball drove over to say good-bye. He was leaving for basic training later that day.
Angie, who had never really met John before, or couldn’t remember meeting him at the funeral, fights back sudden tears when Alice introduces them. She holds on to his hand for a long moment, just looking at him.
“Be careful, okay?” she says, before releasing his hand.
“Yes, ma’am.”
When Alice walks him to his car he surprises her and takes her hand, pulling her into a hug.
“I’ve had really bad timing with you. Maybe one day you’ll give me another chance.”
Alice steps away, looks at him. She knows, now, that you can’t send a boy into the unknown with nothing to hold on to.
“Maybe you’ll visit when you’re home on leave.”
“That could be a year.”
“I know. I’ll still be in high school, remember?”
He laughs.
“Getting less interesting to you with each passing day, probably,” she laughs back at him.
“You could write to me.”
“About what? Trigonometry? Homeroom? Track practice?”
“That wouldn’t be so bad. Everybody says letters, real letters . . .”
“That’s just like my dad: ‘You can’t carry an e-mail in your pocket.’ ”
He hands her a piece of paper with his address.
“I’m not expecting . . . ,” he says.
“I know.”
He looks at his hands.
“You know I want to kiss you.”
“Are you asking permission?”
“Well, after last time . . .”
“I don’t . . .” She hesitates, looking at him, and realizes she’s memorizing him.
“What?”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” she manages.
He reaches out and touches her face, his palm against her cheek, his thumb pressed against her lips.
“That’s okay.”
Knowing that her mother is watching, and Ellie, too, for that matter, and possibly Henry down the street, she stands on tiptoe to kiss him, surprising both of them. It’s a quick kiss, a child’s kiss thrown into the heart of this boy, not a promise, not a pledge, maybe just hope or a prayer.
“I’ll write to you,” he says, before he ducks into his car and drives away.
There are signs of life everywhere. The garden is thriving, the grass in the yard is growing like crazy; Alice has already had to cut it three times. They are eating peas and radishes and lettuce from the garden almost every night. Alice has planted the warm-weather crops: tomatoes and basil, and the marigolds and zinnias are already budded out. Matt would be proud.
Uncle Eddie has taught Alice how to rotate tires and inspect brakes and brake pads, and the two of them, with Henry’s help, have installed the pair of horizontal windows in the west wall of the workshop. Alice can see the sunsets now, just like Matt always wanted.
During another driving lesson, which took a lot of wheedling on Alice’s part after the incident with the Mercedes, Alice enlisted Uncle Eddie’s help with her plan to go to Small Point. First she begged to be allowed to take the car on her own, with Henry along as a sort of safety guarantee, of course, but Uncle Eddie wouldn’t buy it. He reminded her that she can’t get her license until she turns sixteen in October, and there’s no way in hell he’d authorize an out-of-state trip without a license. Then he convinced her to take her family along, that she might actually need them on this trip.
In preparation, Henry and Alice and Ellie have spent hours and hours in the workshop together, making small boats out of scraps of wood. Henry and Alice had long discussions about design, arguing back and forth about flat bottoms versus keels, et cetera. They made paper,