unpolluted.’ You’ll love it.”
“I think I’d rather lie out in my courtyard and develop an ugly sunburn.”
“Hah. You’re one of those driven types who’d have to be strapped to a lounge chair by force. Eight o’clock. Listen to a shrink who grew up in California, dude. You’ve got to mellow out.”
“
Quelle barbe,
” Sebastien said. For added emphasis he affected a yawn and made a classic French gesture of boredom by scrubbing the back of his fingers up and down one side of his face.
“I think I’ve been insulted. See you Saturday.” Jeff chortled as he wandered away.
It was a perfect summer night. The crickets were singing, the moon was full, and the wheat grass gave off a sweet fragrance that mingled with the scent of the warm nightearth. Seated on a blanket in the middle of a field, Amy leaned into the circle of Charley’s arm and tried to concentrate on what he was saying.
“My folks would let us live with them for a couple of years, and by then we ought to have enough money saved to buy a nice-sized trailer,” he told her. “We’ll put it up next door to Mama and Daddy. You know, they’ll be good baby-sitters. I figure we’ll need them to baby-sit by then.” Charley pulled her closer and whispered, “I’ll pray for our first baby to be a boy, but I won’t be upset if it’s a girl. We’ll just keep tryin’.”
“Oh, Charley, it all sounds … friendly. It really does.” She wanted to make him happy, but she was so confused right now that she was afraid to say much else. Marrying Charley was a good option; her best one. Until lately it hadn’t frightened her. Now she had a strange sort of frustration and anger in her belly, and she didn’t know what caused it.
Charley Culpepper was the only boy she’d ever known well, so she assumed that he was typical. If their relationship wasn’t filled with romance, it didn’t bother either of them too much. She rarely saw him more than twice a week, and then it was for church on Sundays and Wednesdays. But Charley was working hard to put away money for trade school, so she expected to see little of him.
He was sweet and simple and knew exactly what he wanted his life to be, which gave him a stability that she craved. He prayed a lot, and she prayed with him, though she couldn’t get into the spirit. She’d told him enough about her father’s moods so that he’d understand why she didn’t invite him into their home very often. Charley prayed for Pop’s redemption and told Amy that she was a good daughter for wanting to save her father’s soul. With Charley she felt safe.
She twisted toward him. Charley was pleasantly average in every way—average height, average build, average good looks. He had thick blond hair and a smooth, round face that would always be boyish. Amy wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He kissed her back, andslid his hands to the waist of the white shirtwaist dress she’d worn to church.
She ducked her head beside his and nibbled his neck above the collar of his crisp plaid shorts shirt. He smelled of spicy cologne and diesel oil. “Comeon, Charley, comeon,” she whispered, stroking the front of his shirt with uncertain movements of her hands. He grunted softly when she kissed him again and finally opened his mouth.
Her breath was short, but not from excitement; instead she fought to prove that Charley could make her ache the way Dr. de Savin had. She could easily picture herself being stroked by Dr. de Savin’s large, confident hands. She could not, however, picture herself taking part in his life. She could easily picture herself taking part in Charley’s.
“Please, please,” she murmured against his mouth. Amy pulled Charley’s hands up to her breasts. He had touched them many times through her clothes, and now he stroked and cupped and kneaded them with the same fervent routine he always used. She could predict his next move.
The more he touched her, the less she felt. Before,
“I think I’d rather lie out in my courtyard and develop an ugly sunburn.”
“Hah. You’re one of those driven types who’d have to be strapped to a lounge chair by force. Eight o’clock. Listen to a shrink who grew up in California, dude. You’ve got to mellow out.”
“
Quelle barbe,
” Sebastien said. For added emphasis he affected a yawn and made a classic French gesture of boredom by scrubbing the back of his fingers up and down one side of his face.
“I think I’ve been insulted. See you Saturday.” Jeff chortled as he wandered away.
It was a perfect summer night. The crickets were singing, the moon was full, and the wheat grass gave off a sweet fragrance that mingled with the scent of the warm nightearth. Seated on a blanket in the middle of a field, Amy leaned into the circle of Charley’s arm and tried to concentrate on what he was saying.
“My folks would let us live with them for a couple of years, and by then we ought to have enough money saved to buy a nice-sized trailer,” he told her. “We’ll put it up next door to Mama and Daddy. You know, they’ll be good baby-sitters. I figure we’ll need them to baby-sit by then.” Charley pulled her closer and whispered, “I’ll pray for our first baby to be a boy, but I won’t be upset if it’s a girl. We’ll just keep tryin’.”
“Oh, Charley, it all sounds … friendly. It really does.” She wanted to make him happy, but she was so confused right now that she was afraid to say much else. Marrying Charley was a good option; her best one. Until lately it hadn’t frightened her. Now she had a strange sort of frustration and anger in her belly, and she didn’t know what caused it.
Charley Culpepper was the only boy she’d ever known well, so she assumed that he was typical. If their relationship wasn’t filled with romance, it didn’t bother either of them too much. She rarely saw him more than twice a week, and then it was for church on Sundays and Wednesdays. But Charley was working hard to put away money for trade school, so she expected to see little of him.
He was sweet and simple and knew exactly what he wanted his life to be, which gave him a stability that she craved. He prayed a lot, and she prayed with him, though she couldn’t get into the spirit. She’d told him enough about her father’s moods so that he’d understand why she didn’t invite him into their home very often. Charley prayed for Pop’s redemption and told Amy that she was a good daughter for wanting to save her father’s soul. With Charley she felt safe.
She twisted toward him. Charley was pleasantly average in every way—average height, average build, average good looks. He had thick blond hair and a smooth, round face that would always be boyish. Amy wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He kissed her back, andslid his hands to the waist of the white shirtwaist dress she’d worn to church.
She ducked her head beside his and nibbled his neck above the collar of his crisp plaid shorts shirt. He smelled of spicy cologne and diesel oil. “Comeon, Charley, comeon,” she whispered, stroking the front of his shirt with uncertain movements of her hands. He grunted softly when she kissed him again and finally opened his mouth.
Her breath was short, but not from excitement; instead she fought to prove that Charley could make her ache the way Dr. de Savin had. She could easily picture herself being stroked by Dr. de Savin’s large, confident hands. She could not, however, picture herself taking part in his life. She could easily picture herself taking part in Charley’s.
“Please, please,” she murmured against his mouth. Amy pulled Charley’s hands up to her breasts. He had touched them many times through her clothes, and now he stroked and cupped and kneaded them with the same fervent routine he always used. She could predict his next move.
The more he touched her, the less she felt. Before,
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