out here in the middle of nowhere made it stand out like a crisp white communion host. She discovered that if she stared long enough, the pattern of shadows and light definitely did resemble a face. Crystal’s face, maybe.
How am I doing? she asked her friend. Is this what you would have wanted?
A vast silence was her only reply. About fifty yards behind her lay the Take It Easy Campground, a collection of tents and RVs filled with wayfarers.
She stuck her hands in the rear pockets of her jeans and shook back her hair. It was late and she should be dead tired, but instead she felt keyed up. Some feeling that was quite new buzzed through her veins.
The beam of a flashlight flickered over her. Turning, she put up a hand to keep it out of her eyes.
“Who’s there?” An edge sharpened her voice. She was suddenly very aware of the deep isolation of her position, the sheer danger of standing at the lip of the gorge.
“It’s me,” Sean’s voice called reassuringly across the darkness.
The new, buzzing feeling sped up. “How did you find me?”
“It’s that spiffy Wonder Bread jacket,” he said. “The letters on the back are reflective.”
“You’re kidding.” She took it off and looked at the back. It was a satiny white baseball-style jacket, complete with the trademark colored dots, provided by Sean’s sponsor. Sure enough, the name “Maguire” glowed and flickered when the moonlight hit the letters. “Jackets, hats, umbrellas, ponchos, shirts, tote bags…they’ve got everything.”
“And enough actual Wonder Bread to feed an army.”
She shuddered. “Don’t remind me.”
“Hey, most of us grew up on that stuff. Builds strong bodies eight ways, remember the ads?”
If only he knew. She remembered because when she was a kid, TV had been her life. It was her escape from the darkness of her family, the accusing looks of her mother. It was her glossy, artificial window into the hyperrealistic world of the Bradys, the Waltons, the Jeffersons. Even the smart-alecky griping of the Bunker family seemed a sweet and desirable family dynamic. Twenty-five minutes of quarreling and then all troubles were resolved.
“I don’t believe I’ve eaten white flour or refined sugar since I moved out of the dorm in college,” she said.
“Maybe this will be the summer you throw caution to the wind. Maybe you’ll find more happiness on this trip than you would have in Italy.”
His lighthearted voice teased her and she was grateful that the darkness masked her reaction.
“You’re blushing, aren’t you?”
“I beg your pardon?”
He took the jacket from her, draped it over her shoulders and held it in place. His hands were incredibly gentle, imparting warmth through the satiny fabric. “I can tell when you’re blushing,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate whisper.
“That’s impossible.” Her own voice was a not-very-intimate hiss.
“No, I can tell. I can feel it.”
Lily felt compelled to resist him. “We shouldn’t be doing this. You can’t just start up all of a sudden—”
“It’s not sudden at all. This has been building for a long time,” he assured her, his hand gently tipping her face up toward his. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You’re out of your mind.”
“Yeah,” he said, bending his head, tilting it a little to the side. “I reckon I am.” His lips brushed against hers as if by accident.
She lost it then, grabbing him before he got away. Her arms went around his neck and she pressed herself against him. He felt wonderful, his lips just firm enough, his body strong and protective against hers. Then the kiss went deep, deeper than she thought possible, deeper than reason, deeper than loneliness. She strained against him, standing so high on her tiptoes that she trembled. His arms slid down, cupping her hips, bringing her closer, tighter. She forgot to think. She couldn’t think. His warm, pliant lips coaxed her into surrender, and she stopped even trying. This was wholly strange and wonderful and impossible, and she felt swept in an updraft, flying high to a place she’d never been.
By the time the kiss ended and she settled back to earth, she was dizzy. In the night sky behind him, the stars spun like a kaleidoscope of cut glass.
“Oh, boy,” she said, breathless and flustered, a girl at a junior high dance.
“Oh, boy, is right,” he said, sounding neither breathless nor flustered as he reached for her again. “Why, Miss Lily, I had no idea.”