Who is Mackie Spence? by Lin Kaymer Page B

returns within seconds. I sit on a padded bar stool at the kitchen counter and turn to face her. Mackie walks right to me and I put my arms around her as she lays her head on my shoulder. She’s still, not saying anything, just hugs me close.
    After a while, she turns her head and kisses me on my neck near my ear. I tense at the feeling of her lips on my skin, and shift so I can kiss her. Time gets lost for both of us.
    Then the dryer buzzer sounds and she backs away, leaving me somewhere between wanting more and amazed that anything has happened at all.
    Before she leaves the room to respond to the dryer signal, she turns back to me.
    â€œI have to thank you for what you did,” she begins.
    I wave my hand and shake my head.
    Still looking at me, she continues. “I’m sure that the whale was what was pulling me to the shore. I didn’t know that when we left Jen’s, or what would happen. As soon as we were near the water, I knew something was coming to meet us. He was so sick.” She waves her hand as if pushing away at cobwebs. “I’ll get your clothes and we can talk.”
    As she left, I suck in a deep breath. What a night! And it’s not over yet. Will Mackie tell me what all of this means?
    She returns and hands me my warm clothes. My jeans feel a little stiff from saltwater, but dry.
    I walk to the guestroom, dress, and head back to the kitchen. I find Mackie waiting in the great room, her hands clasped in front of her, eyes closed. When she opens them, she looks me over carefully like she’s studying something about me.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œCome on,” she says, and leads me up the stairway to the second floor of the house.
    She turns at her bedroom. I’ve been in her room many times over the years, but always with our friends. One time, when we were nine, everyone played on the floor with glass and agate marbles her father gave her. When the game was over, and as the others left to go home, she motioned for me to stay. She held out a milky-blue lutz marble with wavy gold ribbon edged in white. Mackie smiled at me, and time seemed to slow down; there was something close between us as she handed me the beautiful ball. It still makes me feel like we share something special.
    Her room has been redecorated and looks quite different now, with dark green walls and long, brown and green velvet drapes covering the windows. A tall, ornately carved wood and glass cabinet has been positioned off to one side, with shelves that hold baseball-sized crystals. I recognize them as part of a rock and mineral collection that used to be in Nick Spence’s home office. Mackie’s room doesn’t look at all girly anymore; it looks more like an enchanted forest.
    â€œWe can talk here,” she says.
    I stand mute, unsure of what to do.
    Looking at the other side of the room, I notice her bed is still fitted with the fan like, seashell-shaped headboard she’d had as a girl. Her desk holds her notebook, school bag, some old books stacked in piles, and a red leather box, overflowing with bracelets. Above the desk are an antique oval mirror and a board with photos. I recognize some of the group prints from when we were kids.
    Mackie takes my hand and tows me to the bed. “I want to tell you what I think happened tonight.” She sits on the edge of the bed and then stretches out on her side taking up half of the space. “I’ll share,” she says, smiling, handing me a pillow. I flash back to childhood summer pillow fights with our friends. Then she scoots further across the bed, looks up at me, and says, “There’s plenty of room.”
    Not knowing what she has in mind, I lie next to her and nod. At the same time, I try to contain my excitement. That doesn’t work. Mackie raises her eyebrows and gives me a grin. I smile back, feeling embarrassed. She’s seen all of us guys with woodies at some point over the years. This is different. This is