The Summer of '98 Read online

  By some miracle, my mother allowed me to spend the rest of summer in Castle Rock, on a strict set of conditions, of course. More miraculous still was that I could spend it with Leroy, in his home. Our mothers had spoken on the phone and agreed that as long as we were in separate bedrooms and had a ten o’clock curfew, it was fine.

  However, there was still the small matter of being accepted by his upper-class parents. Mom’s salary wouldn’t have been a quarter of what his parents made, and I was nervous to think that I might not fit in or be the sort of woman that they want their son to date. What if they thought I was a gold digger? I’d expressed these concerns to him on the phone and he’d said that it was ridiculous to think like that, but still, I couldn’t help but worry.

  “You sure you’ve got everything?” Momma asked as I bounced on the spot, watching the boarding chart and waiting for my flight number to be called. “You didn’t pack a lot.”

  “Momma, I’ve got a secure system set up,” I assured her, still not one hundred percent focused on her face or words. “As long as I can use the washing machine, and I’m sure that I can, I’ve got all that I need.”

  I was nothing if not organized. I had a rotation of outfits that I could mix and match. Accessories to spice them up and seven different lipstick colors to ensure that I could pop a perfect pout no matter what the occasion.

  “Be safe, and I’d really appreciate it if you could give your future some thought,” Momma pointed an authoritative finger at me. “I know that I can’t afford to put you through college, but—”

  “Come on, Momma,” I cut her off. “I’m going to take a small business course when I’ve got enough cash. And one day, I’ll own a skincare line. I’ve told you all of this. There’s no chance that I could work as a measly employee for the rest of my life—no offense.”

  Momma smiled, although it wasn’t convincing. “I know that you don’t want to end up like me but be realistic. And don’t base your future on this boy because these things can be fleeting.”

  I frowned at the pessimistic woman who’d raised me. “I’m not basing anything off Leroy. I’ve wanted to run a business since I was a freshman. I’ll do it with or without him. And what we have isn’t fleeting. He loves me, Momma.”

  “Whatever you say,” she said. “Look, I mean it, behaving. His mother assured me that she’d phone and have you sent home if there was even a hint of acting up. You don’t be alone with that boy in his room, you keep your hands to yourselves, and don’t even think about touching alcohol. You hear?”

  “Yes Momma,” I said, holding back a restless sigh. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t heard it all before. “I promise. Besides, I’ve only met him in person once. It’s not like we know each other well enough to . . . you know . . .”

  Fortunately, I’d become quite talented in the art of lying. She didn’t know that I’d given him a piece of me that I could never get back—and she never would. She didn’t know that I was in love with him. I hadn’t given it away on a whim. I’d felt something for him that I couldn’t explain, and I knew that even if he hadn’t kept in touch, I wouldn’t have regretted it.

  After a few more “words of wisdom” from Momma, we said goodbye at the gate, and I went through security to wait. The call for my flight came over the PA, and I squealed through a clenched jaw as I slung my backpack on and adjusted my T-shirt, the summer sun making me sweat like crazy.

  The flight wasn’t long, just over two hours, but it was my first, and I tried to appreciate it. I had saved every last dollar that I’d made from working at the local pharmacy after school and on weekends. The funds were going toward the business course that I planned on taking. But I withdrew a small amount for the tickets and spending money. I wanted to appreciate what I had paid for, but my mind was spinning with the knowledge that I would soon be seeing Leroy after an entire month of nothing but hearing his voice. It had kept me going, that’s for sure.

  When the flight landed, I ran a hand through my frazzled mess of hair and pulled it into a bun. My palms had become damp and I vigorously wiped them on my high-waisted shorts before I stood and joined the line to get off the plane. What would it be like to see him again? Would we slide into familiarity with ease? Would the nerves make it awkward? It felt like every traveler was moving at a snail’s pace, but eventually we made it off the plane.

  After I’d gone through customs and collected my luggage, I stood to the side of the gate, searching for him, my thoughts still a shambles of uncertain excitement. A voice that I’d become so familiar with purred from behind me. I could feel his presence, feel an electric hum settling around me, a result of my heart working overtime.

  “Hello, Ellie.”

  His voice was like butter. Soft and smooth, sliding over me and seeping into my skin. It was what I had come to know. I had made love to this man, cried his name in a night of passion, and touched every surface of his magnificent body. But his soul, his deep voice, his poetic words, those were what I had fallen in love with.

  I turned around and laid a gaze on his gorgeous grin. He stood tall, hands in his jean pockets, his hair swept over in an unkempt mess. He screamed confidence. And why wouldn’t he? He was irresistible. His charm and presence couldn’t be missed, even when he didn’t utter a word. I drank in his appearance. His jeans rolled up at the ankles, his white Chuck Taylors, and the fitted white muscle shirt that allowed a view of his sinfully delicious arms.

  He stepped forward and drew me in with his large hand wrapped around my waist.

  “I have missed you a whole damn lot, Ellie Livingston,” he smiled before he crashed his lips against mine and I was lost to the world. Gone. Only existing with the life that he breathed into me with that unbelievable kiss.

  I didn’t want it to end. I could have kissed him until the sun set and the stars birthed a new night. But his mouth parted from mine and we both sighed with relief. “I missed you too,” I finally managed to tell him.

  “Mom’s excited to meet you,” he said as he dropped an arm around my shoulder and took my bag.

  Perhaps I had jumped the gun a little. I knew a lot of the families in my hometown had a stuck-up mindset. That didn’t mean every single rich person was a snob and a half. There’s a good chance that I was the snob for making such assumptions.

  During the journey home, he drove us in a black 1996 Mercedes-Benz. The seats were made of soft leather and the ride was smooth. Our pickup back home was reliable, but she was old, that’s for sure. I’d never been in such a new vehicle. But still, as exciting as that was, nothing could compare to the butterflies that I felt when Leroy’s hand held mine. We spent the two-hour journey talking. We never exhausted topics, and every time he turned to smile at me, my heart would flutter, threatening to fly right out of my chest. Compared to home, Colorado—or what I was seeing of it—was a lot of vast space, and the Rockies were every bit as stunning as I thought they’d be. There were large meadows, small plants, shrubs, and scattered trees. It was so open and a refreshing change from the suburban city that I was used to.

  Leroy’s home was at the top of a hill, surrounded by big Douglas and white fir trees, no doubt it would have been gorgeous in the winter, the needles coated in snow. Right now, the branches provided decent shade from the sun. The two-story brick mansion faced the street, climbing vines were assisted by trellises, and thick green shrubs lined the path that led from the double driveway to the front door.

  We parked in front of the garage and Leroy fetched the luggage from the trunk. I glanced up at him, squinting to avoid the sun that created a halo around his dark-brown locks. His face had the ability to make my heart race and I hoped that Momma was wrong. I hoped that this wasn’t fleeting.

  “Ready?” he asked. “They’re going to love you.”

  Inside, it was as exquisite as I had imagined. There was a small space in the foyer that was tiled, but after that, a cream carpet lined the corrid
ors and living room, which was down a simple two steps. A staircase in the corridor led upstairs and beyond that was the kitchen.

  Leroy dropped my bag beside the staircase and then steered us back into the living room where his parents were sitting within the gloriously air-conditioned house. I felt a little sheepish as the two of them stood up with inspecting gazes.

  “Mom, Dad,” his grin was proud, “this is Ellie Livingston.”

  “Jacob,” his father outstretched his aged hand with a gentle smile. I could see Leroy in his father’s face. His eyes were blue, though, rather than brown, his shoulders and chest a little wider. But there was a definite likeness.

  “I’m Eleanor,” the woman greeted next with a kind and welcoming smile.

  “Ha!” Jacob gestured between Eleanor and me. “Ellie . . . Eleanor. Similar names. How’s that going for you, Leroy?”

  Leroy grimaced. “Do we have to?”

  “It’s obvious that I’m his hero and inspiration for all things in life,” Eleanor gave her shoulder-length greying waves a sassy sweep. “How was your flight, dear?”

  “It was awesome,” I said. “I’ve never flown before. I liked it.”

  Leroy pulled me closer, his hand resting on the curve of my waist as he leaned down and murmured in a hushed tone, wondering if we should go upstairs. That idea was abruptly interrupted when the sound of footsteps came thudding down the staircase, causing us to turn our attention over our shoulders.

  A boy appeared at the entrance to the living room. He had a tall, leaner build and darker hair, but he bore that same mesmerizing attractiveness that his brother did. Leroy had given me a basic rundown on Noah. He was a year younger than Leroy, about to become a senior in high school. He was more business-savvy than athletic, though. He stuffed his hands into his shorts and made no subtleties about running his gaze over me at a slow and deliberate pace. Leroy’s hand tightened around mine and I leaned into him.

  “Ellie, this is my brother Noah. Noah, this is Ellie.”

  “You’re the girl that has him whipped as hell,” Noah tsked with disappointment. Leroy stiffened beside me.

  “Noah, please,” Eleanor scolded her son with a tiresome tone. She smoothed her button-up blouse and politely excused herself to get started on dinner preparations.

  “Watch it,” Jacob glared at his youngest son before he followed his wife, leaving the three of us in an awkward silence. It didn’t last long.

  “Do we get to share this one?” Noah gestured at me with a devious grin.

  “Don’t go there, Noah,” Leroy warned. The brothers differed in height, Noah being taller, but Leroy was built with muscle and he was intimidating, to say the least. “We talked about this. Stop being fucking rude.”

  Noah rolled his eyes and shifted his weight, putting a little distance between the two of them. He gave me another once-over. “She’s not good enough for this family,” he muttered before his long legs carried him out of the room.

  “Ignore him,” Leroy said. He pressed a soft kiss on the top of my head before he led us back toward the staircase. “He’s salty because he’s got no one to drive him to and from his one-night stands and parties now. He’s been sulking about it for the last month.”

  “You don’t have to stop going to parties because of me,” I told him as he picked up the suitcase we’d left before. He shot me a puzzled glance as we made tracks upstairs. “I mean, I wouldn’t stop you from doing that.”

  “Would you go with me?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  “Good. Because I want to show you off.”

  Ellie

  I followed Leroy upstairs and explored the framed family portraits lining the wall. There were some gorgeous vintage photos of Eleanor as a young woman in tailored suits and slim sheath dresses, capri pants, and Peter Pan-collared blouses.

  “Your mom has spectacular style,” I said, pausing on the staircase. Leroy waited a step above me.

  “So she’s told me,” he said.

  There were also photos of Jacob in his old school football gear, wedding photos, and baby pictures of Noah and Leroy.

  “You were such a cute baby,” I said, my finger tracing the frame.

  “Nothing’s changed then,” Leroy teased as we continued upstairs, knowing that I’d be back for a longer look at their photographic timeline later. We went to the left when we hit the top floor and rounded the railing.

  “That’s my room over there.” He pointed over at the other side of the staircase where there were three doors, his being the first. “Mom and Dad are at the far end on that side. Noah is at the far end on this side. The bathroom is between you, and this is the bedroom that you’ll be using.”

  Leroy set down my suitcase inside the first bedroom on the left side of the staircase. The floral comforter on the double bed looked plush, the frilled edges of the throw pillows looked delicate and intricate. The patterned wallpaper looked like the décor from the home catalogs that Momma pored over, coveting all the things she could never afford.

  “Sorry that we can’t share,” Leroy’s deep voice startled me from thoughts, and I turned around, noticing that he was leaning against the wall beside the door.

  His gaze had become a little darker, longing.

  “It’s okay,” I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. It felt strange to behave as though I was shy around him. We’d shared the most intimate act that two people could share. But I still became so wound up under the heat of his stare. Unable to think, almost unable to breathe.

  He leaned off the wall, kicking the door shut before he sauntered toward me. The back of my legs hit the bed and I went down, propping myself on my elbows as he placed a hand on either side of me, the mattress dipping a little under his weight. The air grew impossibly thick as he hovered mere inches from my face, inspecting every inch of it as though he was memorizing it. I understood, though. It had been months of wishing to see each other and having to settle for the sound of his voice instead. Which was something that I had come to adore. But now, I kind of wanted to just—not talk.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, the back of his hand sweeping my cheek. Overwhelming emotions sent me into a state of bliss.

  “Ellie,” he murmured, as though my name were an ode.

  He leaned in and his lips feathered mine. My eyes fluttered closed and under some cruel twist of fate, the door swung open behind us and hit the wall. Leroy didn’t move, instead leaning his forehead on mine and taking a deep breath as his brother whistled a scandalous tune.

  “Dad doesn’t want the door shut up here, Lee.”

  I stole a peek around the side of the firm arms that had me encased and spied Noah leaning against the doorframe. It almost sounded like Leroy was counting to ten before he reluctantly stood up.

  “Grow the hell up, Noah,” he said, turning around to face the younger Lahey.

  “Hostile,” Noah said scornfully. He acted cool and unfazed but his cheeks had a dusting of red blooming in his cheeks. “She’s here for five minutes and you’re already wiggin’ out?”

  “You’re being rude,” Leroy snapped. “A simple tap on the door would have been enough.”

  “Whatever,” he straightened up and shot me an indecipherable glance before he focused his attention back on Leroy. “Are we going to Eric’s tonight? Oh wait, no. Saturdays have turned into bitch night, right?”

  “I’m going,” Leroy said. “Ellie’s coming with me.”

  Noah’s shoulders slumped but he didn’t continue the conversation. What did he expect? If Leroy was going, he’d just leave me here alone? Noah left the room, not closing the door behind him. I didn’t think that we’d get our moment or our privacy back, but we had all summer to steal moments alone.

  “I’m sorry about him—again,” Leroy said.

  I shrugged, not wanting to make a fuss about it. “So, we’re going out
tonight?”

  “To be honest, I’d rather not spend our first night together, out,” he sat beside me. “But Eric will be moving out of state for college in a couple of weeks and he’s been a good friend of mine for a long time. I hope you don’t mind?”

  “Not at all,” I assured him. “We might even find the chance to be alone?”

  The way that he sunk his teeth into his bottom lip and stared up at the ceiling was erotic. I stared at him, almost feeling ashamed for the thoughts that were shouting at me.

  “Come on,” he stood up, offering me his hand. “We’ll go and help Mom with dinner and then go out later. That gives you a chance to get to know her.”

  I had so much appreciation for the respect and care that he showed his mother. It was clear that she meant a lot to him, and it was important that she and I spent time together.

  Downstairs, the kitchen was filled with the aroma of delicious home-cooked food. I was no chef. I could boil an egg and make toast so I was quietly hoping that she wouldn’t ask too much of me.

  “Hey, Mom,” Leroy said. The countertop surface ran along the far wall and came out in an L-shape, cutting the large room in half to create a small dining space. There was a larger dining room between the living room and kitchen, used for more formal occasions, I assumed. “Can we help?”

  She smiled and gave out directions on what he could do for her. But I lost focus on her words as I spotted the pile of Post-its, scattered pens, and stacked books that were underneath the wall phone at the end of the countertop. I moved over to the clutter and started organizing it.