Always and Forever Page 15

“Hey, Jory. How goes it?” Melissa asked as Jory coasted into her friend’s driveway.

  “Okay. How goes it with you?” Jory climbed over the side of her convertible and walked to the kitchen door, where Melissa waited behind the screen. Melissa was wearing not her waist-length hairpiece but, instead, her own hair, regrown into a sleek black cap.

  “They make doors for cars, you know.”

  “A nuisance.” She followed Melissa to the kitchen counter, strewn with the makings for soup and pasta salad. “What are you doing?”

  “I thought I’d get a head start on dinner for Mom. She’s training a new group of operators at the phone company today and that sort of thing always wears her out.”

  Jory felt totally comfortable in the familiar Austin house. Her eyes darted from the worn wallpaper to the refrigerator, cluttered with notes and magnets, to the old pine table where she’d shared so many meals with Melissa, Mrs. Austin, and Michael. “Smells yummy,” she said, popping a chunk of chicken into her mouth.

  “Didn’t you have breakfast?”

  “Lost my appetite,” Jory said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

  “What happened?”

  Jory shrugged, deciding not to mention Europe. “I had a tiny run-in with Mother. She and Dad keep fussing about my going to a private school.” Jory silently wished that her mother were more like Melissa’s. Mrs. Austin always seemed to have time for her family, in spite of how long and hard she worked. Jory never heard her griping at Melissa about how to live her life.

  “A private school’s name on your diploma would make any college look harder at you,” Melissa said, chopping celery.

  Jory knew she could never make Melissa understand that an exclusive college campus wouldn’t make the idea of four more years of school any more attractive to her. The fact was that while she was innately smart, she loathed disciplined study habits. “I know I’ve got to decide something soon about my future. But right now, life’s too short and the summer’s almost gone.”

  Life’s too short. Jory could have bitten her tongue for using that particular phrase. But if her friend noticed, she didn’t let on. “You sound like Scarlett O’Hara—‘I’ll think about it tomorrow.’ ”

  “Oh fiddley-dee,” Jory said with a flap of her lashes.

  “I saw Brad last week,” Melissa said casually.

  “Oh, yeah? How’s the former captain of our victorious Brain Bowl team doing?”

  “Getting ready to head for Yale. And it was an almost victorious Brain Bowl team,” Melissa corrected, punctuating the air with the tip of her paring knife. “We lost in the state finals, and you know it.”

  “Wasn’t your fault,” Jory griped. “The judges were prejudiced toward the Miami team.”

  “We’ll get them next time. Don’t forget, I’m going to be captain when Lincoln selects its new team next spring.”

  Jory grinned. “I thought you had to try out for the panel. Or does rank have privilege because you’re one of the few returning players from last year?”

  “Lyle Vargas will be back. You remember him?”

  Jory puckered her brow. “A science whiz, right? He makes me yawn.”

  “Really? He speaks highly of you, you know.”

  “Definitely not my type. Give me dark, handsome, and older anytime.”

  “What’s all the noise out here?” Jory felt her heart pound at the sound of the voice. She turned from the counter to see Michael, rumpled and disheveled and unbearably sexy, standing in the doorway. She smiled at him, but his blue eyes swept past her as if she weren’t there.

  Chapter Two

  “Well, good morning,” Melissa said. “What woke you from your long summer’s nap?”

  “The smell of food and female chatter,” Michael rumbled, sticking his head into the open refrigerator.

  When he reemerged Jory shifted, trying not to feel hurt. She eyed him covetously. His upper body was bare, tight with tanned muscles from working in the sun. Well-worn jeans hugged his lean hips.

  Michael clutched a carton of milk and a small bag of powdered-sugar donuts and wandered to the table. “I worked construction until three yesterday, then took the late shift at the grocery warehouse. I’ve had four hours of sleep and I chew up little girls who stand around in the kitchen giggling.” He opened the carton of milk and downed a swig.

  Melissa brandished her paring knife. “Careful, or I’ll cut off your ears.”

  “Watch it, Melissa, he really does look mean,” Jory interjected, propping her elbows on the counter. She decided to act flip, desperate to be more to him than a “little girl.”

  “Can’t you two go wander around the mall or something? I need my sleep.”

  “We’ll be out of here as soon as I finish making dinner.”

  “Do you want to hit the mall?” Jory asked, in no hurry to be away from Michael.

  Melissa dropped her gaze. “I can’t. I’ve got a clinic appointment at noon.”

  Jory saw the muscles work in Michael’s jaw while she felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. Wouldn’t her best friend’s life ever be normal again? Michael asked, “How are you getting there? Why didn’t you work out something with Mom? I can hitch a ride to work if you want to borrow my pickup.”

  “Mom had a hard day ahead of her and I didn’t want to complicate it. It’s no big deal, Michael. I go to the clinic twice a month, you know. I’ll just take the bus,” Melissa said brightly.

  “Like hell,” Michael snapped. “You got sick last time and almost didn’t make it back.”

  Melissa blushed, obviously embarrassed. “Don’t be silly,” Jory interrupted hastily. “I’ve got nothing to do today. I’ll take you.”

  “Oh, Jory, it’s a long visit today. They’re doing a lumbar puncture, and if I don’t lie perfectly still for at least half an hour afterward, I get the world’s worst headache. There’s nothing for you to do but sit and wait.”

  “I don’t care. I’ll read.”

  “You hate to sit and read.”

  “Let Jory take you.” Michael’s command settled the matter instantly. He stretched out in his chair, his long legs crossed at the ankles, and ate donuts. Jory made a stab at starting a conversation, but the good humor of the day had evaporated. Melissa finished quickly in the kitchen, and after she changed Jory drove her to the clinic.

  “Keep the top down,” Melissa said when Jory started to raise the soft cloth roof of her car.

  “But I thought the sun was bad for you.”

  “Some of my medications react to too much sun, but I doubt I’ll turn splotchy in a twenty-minute ride.” Melissa’s tone was cynical. Jory watched her friend from the corner of her eye as Melissa rested her head on the bright red upholstery and turned her face toward the sunlight. “I’ll bet I’m the only girl at Lincoln who returns this year without a tan,” she grumbled. “God, I miss going to the beach.”

  Jory missed going with her. They hadn’t been once all summer. “The beach is hot and sticky anyway,” Jory said. “Who needs it?”

  “I need it.” Melissa sighed. “It’s the ocean I really miss. And the waves.”

  “And the good-looking guys,” Jory joked, in an effort to chase away Melissa’s doldrums.

  “Aren’t I allowed even a small pity party?”

  “Absolutely not. You don’t see me feeling sorry for myself because your brother acts like I’m part of your household fixtures, do you?” She shook her head as she parked in the clinic lot. “No-o-o. Not Jory Delaney. She just picks her tongue up off the floor every time she’s around Michael and keeps on smiling.” Jory’s speaking about herself in the third person made Melissa chuckle. She couldn’t stand seeing Melissa down-and-out. “And incidentally, I’m going to have to get tough with Michael if he’s not careful.”

  “Tough?”

  “I’m just going to have to grab him, throw him to the floor, and ravish him. Not that I’m a pushy broad, but I’m tired of waiting for him to ravish me. Lord knows I’ve been wai
ting since the sixth grade!”

  They entered the clinic, laughing. Melissa signed in and Jory found a seat, moving some toys left by the younger kids. She glanced around the building and shuddered. The place gave her the willies. The smells, the sounds, the sight of so many kids with cancer caused her nerves endings to itch. How did Melissa stand it?

  As soon as Melissa was called into the lab area, Jory went outside for fresh air. The July heat was oppressive. In another month school would start. My senior year, she thought. She’d be a graduate by the following June. Jory wished she cared.

  She would, however, have to think of something to get her mother off her back so that she could enjoy her final year of high school. She glanced toward the beige brick of the hospital and thought about Melissa getting needles poked into her veins and her spine. Jory wished there were something she could do for her friend. Something that would make the pain go away and make their senior year memorable.

  * * *

  “Are you going to be all right?” Jory couldn’t conceal her terror. They sat in the blazing sun on the shoulder of the road while Melissa leaned out the open door and vomited. Jory felt helpless, panicked, as she patted Melissa’s sweat-drenched back and tried to comfort her friend.

  “I’ll … be … fine.” Melissa managed between gags.

  “This is the pits!” Jory said, raising the convertible’s roof She turned on the air-conditioning full blast to ward off the unbearable heat. Her blouse stuck to her skin. She’d helped Melissa before, but she’d been in the hospital then and there had been nurses close by. Now, Jory knew, there was no one but herself. “I think the cooler air will help,” she told Melissa above the roar of the air conditioner fan. Be all right, Melissa. Please, be all right, she prayed silently.

  Slowly, the heaving subsided and Melissa sagged against the car seat, her face pinched and white. Gently, Jory reached across, closed the car door, and stroked Melissa’s clammy forehead. Melissa’s eyelids fluttered open. “Sorry about that.” Her voice sounded raw and small.

  “What’s the big deal? You think I’ve never puked before? Remember that time I had the flu? You were there for me.”

  “True … we’ve certainly made some lasting memories.” Melissa made a stab at humor.

  Jory threw the car into drive, checked for oncoming traffic, and lurched the car off the shoulder and onto the road. Gravel spat from under the tires. “Do you feel better?”

  Melissa eased upright and nodded. “Yes. Can we stop for a cold drink?”

  “There’s a mini-mart up ahead. I’ll get us a couple of sodas.”

  After they were back on the road Melissa asked, “Where are we?”

  “Just driving around. There’s not much traffic out this way, and I thought you might not want to go home right now.”

  “You’re right.” Melissa gazed out at her surroundings. “Wait a minute.”

  “What is it?” Jory grew anxious, afraid that Melissa would be sick again.

  “I’ve been on this road before. There’s a place off a dirt road … Ric brought me. There!” She pointed. “Turn here.”

  Jory followed Melissa’s directions and maneuvered her car down a twisting dirt lane, draped with drooping tree branches. When she reached a small clearing, she turned off the engine and they sat in the summer quiet. A stream gurgled over rocks nearby. “Not bad,” she said.

  “Put the top down. I need some fresh air.”

  Overhead, Spanish moss hung from trees, and they could hear insects chirping. “Ric brought you here?”

  “Yes, last spring. It’s sort of peaceful, don’t you think?”

  “Sure do.” Jory sipped her soda. “What happened when he brought you?”

  Mischief sparkled in Melissa’s blue eyes, letting Jory know that she was feeling better. “He asked to make love to me.”

  Jory’s jaw dropped. “Really? What did you say?”

  “I told him I’d think about it.”

  “And?”

  “And I thought about it.”

  Exasperated, Jory squealed, “Don’t do this to me, Melissa Austin! What did you do?”

  “I told him no. It wasn’t right for me.”

  “I don’t know what I’d say if someone I really cared about asked me,” Jory confessed, thinking of Michael. But then, he’d never ask her.

  Melissa swirled the cola can, and Jory listened to the liquid slosh. “So who’s asked you who you didn’t really care about?”

  “Are you kidding? I’ve been slapping guys’ hands away since eighth grade. Honestly, a girl gets a reputation for parties and good times, and guys think they can get away with anything.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re giving up the party life this school year?”

  “Maybe. My mother wants me to ‘get serious’ about my future.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “To my mother, it’s being seen in the right places with the right people.”

  “A party’s a party,” Melissa observed. It bothered Jory that everyone, even Melissa, had this image of her as frivolous and shallow. No wonder Michael thought of her as a silly kid.

  “Don’t bet on it. I like to pick my parties and my friends. Mother thinks that the masses at Lincoln aren’t good enough for me. Or rather for our family’s position in Tampa.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like it sounded. You know I think you’re terrific.” Melissa plucked at lint on the upholstery. “I can’t wait for school to start because it puts me that much closer to college. That much closer to law school and a career.”

  Jory felt pangs of envy. Melissa knew exactly what she wanted—if she could live long enough to achieve it. Jory didn’t know anything she wanted—and she’d probably live forever. She sighed, starting the car.

  “Michael’s taking his balloon up this Saturday at dawn,” Melissa said. “Why don’t you come with me and help him launch it like we did last summer?” Jory’s pulse automatically accelerated and Melissa continued, tenderly, “Who knows? Maybe this time he’ll take you up with him.”

  “Who knows?” Jory echoed, feeling her spirits soar. To touch the sky with Michael … Well, perhaps she could think of one thing she wanted.

  Chapter Three

  Jory shivered in the damp fog. Members of Michael’s hot-air balloon club scrambled to unfurl their nylon ships and launch them before the sun could rise. She nudged Melissa, asking, “Why’s Michael late? Will the fog keep him from going up?” Melissa had spent the night at Jory’s house, and the two of them had arrived at the field first.

  “He said he’d meet us here,” Melissa said. “And this fog’s nothing. The sun will burn it right off. Besides, it’s a low fog and the balloons will be above it in minutes.”

  Jory listened to the hiss of the propane tanks. She watched a balloon fill and rise like a colorful soap bubble. Once filled with heated air, the balloon strained against ropes as a ground crew held it to the earth and two people climbed into a gondola-shaped basket. Light from the headlamps of parked vans and trucks tunneled through the fog, making the seven-story-tall balloon seem like a ghostly galleon for aliens. “My hands are sweating,” she confessed to Melissa in a whisper.

  “Why?”

  “Because I might get to go up in Michael’s balloon with him.”

  “Now that wasn’t a firm promise,” Melissa warned. “I said maybe.”

  “ ‘Maybe’ was all it took for me to crawl out of bed at four A. M. and drive out here with you, wasn’t it?”

  “If you do go up, don’t get sick like I always do. My stomach is definitely a landlubber.”

  “That’s sailor talk—not ballooning,” Jory said with a grin.

  “Nausea knows no distinction,” Melissa said, holding her palm against her abdomen.

  Jory watched as another balloon rose, its pilot adjusting the smaller propane burner aboard his craft. The bright flame shot upward into the neck of the balloon. “You’re sure the fabric won’t catch on fire?” she asked, feeling apprehensive fo
r the first time.

  “Michael says that’s what keeps them up in the sky. When a pilot wants his balloon to go higher, he turns up the burner. If he wants to go lower, he lets the air inside the balloon cool naturally, or he releases it through a special valve.” Melissa punctuated her explanation with her hands as she talked. “It’s tricky though, because it takes time for the balloon to respond. That’s why these people have a pilot’s license.”

  Surprised, Jory interrupted. “I didn’t know Michael had a license to fly.”

  “It’s the law. And there has to be a chase crew—like us—on the ground,” Melissa continued. “In case a pilot gets into trouble with power lines or something.”

  “The things I do for love …” Jory mumbled.

  “Here he comes.” Melissa pointed to a pickup approaching over the bumpy terrain. The truck skidded to a halt and Michael jumped out and hurried to lower the tailgate.

  “Oversleep, Big Brother?” Melissa needled.

  “Beth overslept,” he corrected, his hands busy hauling out the massive nylon balloon from his truck bed.

  “Beth?” Jory asked blankly in unison with Melissa. Then for the first time, she noticed the passenger inside the truck. A girl, blond and still sleepy-eyed, pushed the creaky door open and stepped to the ground. She smiled sheepishly. “Beth Collins. Are you Melissa?”

  “Beth’s in my macroeconomics class at USF,” Michael explained as he worked to lay the balloon out on the ground. “I promised to take her up this morning.”

  Jory felt twinges of hurt and jealousy. She exchanged glances with Melissa, who stepped toward Michael. “I thought Jory might go up with you.”

  “Sorry, my basket can only hold two. Here, hold this rope while I drag the propane tank over.”

  Jory shuffled out of the way, numb and embarrassed. Stupid, she told herself. How stupid of her to ever think she had a chance with Michael.

  “Can I help?” Beth asked.

  “Hold the other rope,” Michael directed, aiming the nozzle of the tank at the mouth of the balloon. He turned the valve, the tank hissed, and the yellow-and-red material fluttered and began to fill.