Garden Spells Part 13

He followed her across the green to her van, which she'd parked on the street. She could feel his stare on the back of her neck. She never realized how vulnerable short hair could make a person. It exposed places that were hidden before, her neck, the slope of her shoulders, the rise of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"What are you afraid of, Claire?" he asked softly.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

When they reached the van, she unlocked the back and put her boxes in. Tyler came up beside her and set his boxes beside hers. "Are you afraid of me?"

"Of course I'm not afraid of you," she scoffed.

"Are you afraid of love?"

"Oh, the arrogance," she said as she strapped the boxes in to keep the bottles from breaking as she drove. "I refuse your advances so it must be because I'm afraid of love."

"Are you afraid of a kiss?"

"No one in their right mind is afraid of a kiss." She closed the back of the van and turned around, finding him closer than she expected. Too close. "Don't even think about it," she said, sucking in her breath, her back plastered against the van as he stepped closer still.

"It's just a kiss," he said, moving in, and she didn't think it was possible for him to be so close and not actually touch her. "Nothing to be afraid of, right?"

He put one hand on the van, near her shoulder, leaning in. She could leave, of course. Just scoot away and turn her back on him again. But then he lowered his head, and up close she could see the tiny spiderweb lines around his eyes, and it looked as if his ear had been pierced at one time. Those things told stories about him, storyteller's stories, spinning yarns, lulling her into listening. She didn't want to know so much about him, but one tiny bit of curiosity and she was done for.

Slowly his lips touched hers, and there was a tingling, warm, like cinnamon oil. So this was all there was to it? This wasn't so bad. Then his head tilted slightly and there was this friction friction. It came out of nowhere, streaking through her body. Her lips parted when she gasped in surprise, and that's when things really got out of control. He deepened his kiss, his tongue darting into her mouth, and a million crazy images raced through her mind. They didn't come from her, they were images from him-nakedness and legs twining, holding hands, having breakfast, growing old. What was this mad magic? Oh, G.o.d, but it felt so good. Her hands were suddenly everywhere, touching, grabbing, pulling him closer. He was pressing her against the van, the force of his body nearly suspending her in air. It was too much, she was surely going to die, yet the thought of stopping, of actually breaking contact with this man, this beautiful man, was heartbreaking.

She'd wondered what a kiss from him would feel like, if her jumpiness, her restlessness, would fade away, or would he make it worse? What she found was that he actually absorbed it, like energy, and then he radiated it like a firestone, warming her. What a revelation.

The whistles slowly invaded her senses, and she pulled back to see some teenagers walk by on the sidewalk, sucking their teeth and smiling at them.

Claire watched them walk away, over Tyler's shoulder. He wasn't moving. He was breathing heavily, each breath pressing against her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, which were suddenly so sensitive it was almost painful.

"Let go of me," she said.

"I don't think I can."

She pushed at him and slid out from between him and the van. He fell forward against the van, as if he had no strength to stand. She understood why when she tried to walk to the driver's side and nearly didn't make it. She was weak, like she hadn't eaten in days, like she hadn't walked in years.

"All this from one kiss. If we ever make love, I'm going to need a week to recover."

He talked of the future so easily. The images from him were so vivid. But she couldn't start this, because then it would end. Stories like this always ended. She couldn't take this pleasure, because she would spend the rest of her life missing it, hurting from it.

"Leave me alone, Tyler," she said as he pushed himself away from the van, his chest still rising and falling rapidly. "This never should have happened. And it's not going to happen again."

She got in the van and sped away, jumping curbs and running stop signs all the way home.

CHAPTER 9.

More than a century ago, Waverleys were wealthy, respected people in town. When they lost their money on a series of bad investments, the Clarks were secretly overjoyed. The Clarks were wealthy landowners, with acres full of the best cotton and the sweetest peaches. The Waverleys weren't nearly as wealthy, but they were mysterious old money from down in Charleston who built a showy house in Bascom and always held themselves better than the Clarks thought they should.

When news of the Waverleys' poverty reached them, the Clark women danced a little dance in the secretive light of the half-moon. Then, thinking themselves quite charitable, they brought the Waverleys woolen scarves riddled with moth holes and tasteless cakes made without sugar. They secretly just wanted to see how badly the floor needed polishing without the servants and how empty the rooms looked with most of the furniture gone.

It was Emma Clark's great-great-great-aunt Reecey who took the apples from the backyard, and that started the whole thing. The Waverley women, their clothing mended and their hair messy from trying to put it up without maids, wanted to show the Clarks their flowers, because tending the garden was the only thing they really had any success doing themselves. It made Reecey Clark jealous, because the Clarks' garden could never compare. There were many apples around the garden, shiny and perfect, so she secretly filled her pockets and her reticule. She even stuffed some down her jacket. Why should the Waverleys have so many beautiful apples, apples they didn't even eat? And it was almost as if the apple tree wanted her to have them, the way they would roll to a stop at her feet.

When she got home, she took the apples to the cook and told her to make apple b.u.t.ter. For weeks after, every single one of the Clark women saw such wonderful and erotic things that they began to get up earlier and earlier each morning just for breakfast. The biggest events in the lives of Clark women, it turned out, always involved s.e.x, which could have come as no surprise to their frequently exhausted husbands, who spent and forgave too much because of this.

But then, quite suddenly, all the apple b.u.t.ter was gone and with it the erotic breakfasts. More was made, but it wasn't the same. Reecey knew then that it had been those those apples. The Waverley apples. She became insanely jealous, thinking the tree gave erotic visions to everyone who ate them. No wonder the Waverleys always seemed so happy with themselves. It wasn't fair. It simply wasn't fair that they got to have such a tree and the Clarks didn't. apples. The Waverley apples. She became insanely jealous, thinking the tree gave erotic visions to everyone who ate them. No wonder the Waverleys always seemed so happy with themselves. It wasn't fair. It simply wasn't fair that they got to have such a tree and the Clarks didn't.

She couldn't tell her parents what she'd done. For anyone to know she'd actually stolen something, much less from a family so recently poor, would be mortifying. So she got out of bed in the middle of the night and crept to the Waverley house. She managed to pull herself up the fence, but her skirt got caught on the finials and she fell. She ended up hanging upside down on the fence for the rest of the night, where she was discovered the next morning by the Waverleys. Her family was summoned, and with the help of Phineas Young, the strongest man in town, she was helped down and immediately sent away to live with her strict aunt Edna in Asheville.

It was there, two months later, that she had the most wonderful pa.s.sionate night of her life with one of the stable hands. It was exactly what she'd seen when she'd eaten the apple b.u.t.ter. She thought it was fate. She was even willing to put up with her unlikable aunt Edna to keep up the incredible affair. But weeks later she was caught in the stables with him and she was quickly married off to a stern old man. She was never happy, or s.e.xually satisfied, again.

She decided it was all the Waverleys' fault, and when she was an old woman, she made a point of visiting Bascom every summer just so she could tell all the Clark children how horrible and selfish the Waverleys were, to keep that magical tree all to themselves.

And that resentment stuck in the Clark family, long after the reason faded away.

The day after the Fourth of July, Emma Clark Matteson tried to use the time-honored Clark way of getting what she wanted. She and Hunter John made love that morning, pillows knocked off the bed, sheets pulled from their corners. Had the radio not been on, the kids would surely have heard. He was exhausted and slaphappy afterward, so naturally Emma tried to get him to talk about Sydney. She wanted him to think about how s.e.xy Emma was compared to how old Sydney looked in her plaid shorts yesterday, which she had described to him in detail. But Hunter John refused to talk about Sydney at all, saying she had nothing to do with their lives anymore.

He got up and went to the bathroom to shower, and Emma bit her lip tearily. She was distraught, so she did the only thing she could think of.

She called her mother and cried.

"You did what I said and you kept Hunter John away from the Fourth of July celebration. That was good," Ariel told her. "Your mistake was in bringing Sydney up with Hunter John this morning."

"But you said to make him compare us," Emma said, lying in bed and hugging a pillow after Hunter John had gone to work. "How can I do that without bringing her up?"

"You're not paying attention, sugar. I set that up so he could compare Sydney to you when Sydney was serving and you were the hostess. Just that once. Don't keep doing it, for heaven's sake."

Emma's head was spinning. She'd never doubted her mother's considerable knowledge in the ways of men, but this seemed so complicated. How could she keep this up? At some point, Hunter John was going to suspect something.

"You haven't let Hunter John anywhere near Sydney since he went to see her at the White Door, have you? That was another big mistake."

"No, Mama. But I can't keep track of him all the time. When do I trust him? When do I know?"

"Men are the most untrustworthy creatures on G.o.d's green earth," Ariel said. "This is entirely up to you. You have to work to keep him. Buy something new and skimpy, just for him. Surprise him."

"Yes, Mama."

"Clark women don't lose their men. We keep them happy."

"Yes, Mama."

"Where is Bay?" Sydney asked, walking into the kitchen on the first Monday since the Fourth of July. It was her day off. "I thought she was helping you."

"She was, but she heard a plane overhead and ran out to the garden. Happens every time."

Sydney laughed. "I don't understand it. She was never this crazy about planes before."

Claire was at the kitchen island making chocolate cupcakes for the Havershams, who lived four doors down. They were hosting their grandson's pirate-themed tenth birthday. Instead of a cake, they wanted six dozen cupcakes with something baked inside, a child-size ring or a coin or a charm. Claire had made candy strips from thin shoots of angelica from the garden and was going to make a tiny X on the frosting of each cupcake, like the sign on a treasure map; then she was going to put tiny cards on toothpicks with riddles as to what was buried within.

Sydney watched Claire with the frosting. "So when is this gig?"

"The Havershams' birthday party? Tomorrow."

"I'll be glad to take off work to help you."

Claire smiled, touched by Sydney's offer. "I've got this one covered. Thanks."

Bay came in at that moment, and Sydney laughed. "Oh, honey, you don't have to wear that brooch Evanelle gave you every day. She doesn't expect you to."

Bay looked down at the brooch she'd pinned to her shirt. "But I might need it."

"Ready to go for our walk to see the school?"

"Will you be okay without me, Aunt Claire?" Bay asked.

"You were a great help today. Thank you. But I think I can finish up," Claire said. She was going to be sad when Bay started school in the fall. But then there would be afternoons to look forward to, when Bay got home from school and Sydney got home from work and they'd all be together. She was happy having Sydney and Bay there with her. She wanted to focus only on that, not on how long it would last.

She wasn't quite up to admitting that she still thought about how it was going to end. She thought about it every single day.

"We won't be gone long," Sydney said.

"Okay." Claire suddenly felt p.r.i.c.kly, and she looked at the hair on her arms standing on end. d.a.m.n. "Tyler's about to come to the front door. Please tell him I don't want to see him."

Sydney laughed as soon as there was a knock. "How did you know that?"

"I just knew."

"You know, Claire, if you ever want to talk..."

Still so many secrets. I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours. "Ditto."

Tyler and Bay waited together on the front-porch swing. Tyler used his long legs to swing them high, and Bay laughed because it was so Tyler. He was easily distracted and ready to have fun. But Bay's mom said if he was ever concentrating on something not to bother him, that it was like not asking a person a question at dinner until they finished chewing.

As they swung, Bay thought about her dream, the one of her in the garden. Things here weren't going to be perfect until she could replicate it exactly. But she couldn't figure out how to make sparkles on her face in the sun and, even though she'd taken notebooks out to the garden and held paper up to the wind, she could never quite get the sound of paper flapping right either.

"Tyler?" Bay said.

"Yes?"

"What kinds of things would make sparkles on your face? Like if you were lying outside in the sun? Sometimes I see planes go by and they're shiny and sometimes the sun makes sparkles on them, but when I try lying in the yard when planes pa.s.s overhead, they don't make sparkles on me."

"You mean like light reflecting and making sparkles?"

"Yes."

He thought about it for a moment. "Well, when a mirror catches the sun, it causes flashes. Metal or crystal wind chimes outside in the sun, when the wind blows, might have reflections coming off them. And water in the sun has sparkles."

Bay nodded, eager to try them out. "Those are good ideas! Thank you."

He smiled. "You're welcome."

Sydney walked out at that moment, and Tyler stopped the swing so suddenly that Bay had to hold on to the chain to keep from falling off. Her mother and Aunt Claire had that effect on people.

"Hi, Tyler," Sydney said, standing in front of the screen door. She looked back into the house, unsure. "Um, Claire said she didn't want to see you."

Tyler stood, which set Bay swinging again. "I knew it. I scared her."

"What did you do?" Sydney demanded in the voice she used when Bay tried to cut her own hair once.

Tyler looked down at his feet. "I kissed her."

Sydney suddenly laughed, but then covered her mouth with her hand when Tyler's head shot up. "I'm sorry. But that's all?" Sydney walked over and patted his arm. "Let me talk to her, okay? If you knock, she won't answer. Let her act like Queen Elizabeth for a while. It'll make her feel better." Sydney gestured for Bay to get off the swing and they all walked down the steps together. "A kiss, huh?"

"It was some kiss."

Sydney put her arm around Bay. "I didn't know she had it in her."

Tyler said good-bye to them when they reached his house. "I did."

"Is Claire upset about something?" Bay asked as they turned the corner. "She forgot where to put the everyday silverware this morning. I had to show her." It worried her a little, Claire not knowing where things went. If only Bay could get the dream just right. Then everything would be fine.

"She's not upset, honey. She just doesn't like when she can't control things. Some people don't know how to fall in love, like not knowing how to swim. They panic first when they jump in. Then they figure it out."

"Do you?" Bay plucked a blade of gra.s.s out of a crack in the sidewalk and tried to blow on it through her fingers to make it whistle like her new friend Dakota had shown her on the Fourth of July.

"Do I know how to fall in love?" Sydney asked, and Bay nodded. "Yes, I suppose I do."

"I've already fallen in love."

"You have, have you?"

"Yes, with our house."

"You get more like Claire every day," Sydney said as they finally stopped in front of a long red brick building. "Well, there it is. Your aunt Claire and I went here. My grandmother never liked to leave the house much, but she would walk me to school every day. I remember that. It's a good place."

Bay looked at the building. She knew where her cla.s.sroom was going to be, through the door and down the hall, the third door on the left. She even knew what it smelled like, like construction paper and carpet cleaner. She nodded. "It's the right place."

"Yes," Sydney said. "Yes, it is. So, are you excited about school?"

"It's going to be good. Dakota belongs in my cla.s.s."

"Who's Dakota?"