The Last House on the Street(88)

I turned on my flashlight when I reached the woods. I didn’t need it, really. I knew the way to the circle and the tree house, plus the moonlight lit the narrow dirt road, but I wanted to experience the walk the way Win would. When I reached the circle, I walked around the oak tree and climbed the steps to the tree house. Opening my sleeping bag, I spread it out on the floor. Then I scooted on all fours onto the deck and sat down with my feet dangling over the edge, as I used to with Buddy, and I left my light burning, like a candle in a window.

I didn’t know what time it was when I finally saw his light. It appeared through the trees, then disappeared, then appeared again. I knew it was him. It had to be. I wanted to call his name, but didn’t dare, even though we were miles from anybody and too far from my house for my mother to hear me even if she stepped outside. Finally, he was in the circle, walking toward my tree.

He looked up at me. “I didn’t expect to find you in a tree.” He held the flashlight close to his face. I could see his rare smile. His white teeth.

“Come around the trunk,” I said. “There are steps.”

In a moment, he was with me on the sleeping bag. I’d imagined that we’d eat brownies, chat about everyone at SCOPE and how the canvassing was going, and then, finally, kiss. But—and it was entirely my doing—I wrapped my arms around him and pressed my lips to his.

Wherever he was staying now, it had a shower, because he smelled of soap. He kissed me with the same hunger I felt. Then I held him away from me.

“Want me to slow down?” he asked.

As an answer, I lifted my dress over my head. Tossed it to the side. In the dim light from the flashlight, I saw his eyes widen at my near nakedness.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “You told me you didn’t want to have sex unless you were married.”

I didn’t want to think about the obstacles to us being able to marry. I wanted to think about right now. “Yes, I’m sure,” I said, reaching for the buttons on his shirt.

We lay down and his kisses grew tender, his touch less hurried as he explored my body. The slowness only increased my hunger for him, and by the time he slipped inside me, I was more than ready for him. I expected pain, but there was little. Rather I felt only the relief of being so close to him.

I cried when it was over, the tears coming from some place I’d never known existed. He held me as I wept. He didn’t utter false words of comfort. Instead, as he stroked my hair, he said softly, “I know. I know.” Because we both did know, didn’t we? We knew this was impossible.

As we slowly came out of our reverie, we sat naked and ate brownies and talked about the work in Flint—he was canvassing with Paul now—and we chatted as though we had our own little world inside the tree house and nothing outside could hurt us.

“I miss everyone so much,” I said after we lay down again, his arm around me once more. “I really miss being with a bunch of people, singing freedom songs.”

“What’s your favorite?” he asked.

I didn’t have to think about it. “I’ll Fly Away,” I said. “Even if it’s talking about being, well, dead, it’s got that joyous feeling to it.”

“Death is nothing but a metaphor in that song,” he said, and he serenaded me with a couple of verses, making me smile and pull even closer to him.

Then, for a little while, we were quiet. Finally he spoke again.

“Listen, Ellie,” he said. “I know we haven’t known each other very long, but I’m not going to stop loving you.”

“Me neither,” I said. I’d never felt so sure of something.

He hesitated. Ran a hand up my arm. “You know I never planned on falling in love with a white girl,” he said, touching my cheek, “but I’ve been looking at things from a different angle lately. I know you’re as committed to civil rights as I am. That’s what matters most to me.”

“I am,” I said.

He hesitated. “If we could figure out a way,” he said slowly, “would you consider marrying me?”

I was both stunned and thrilled, but I felt the real world trying to work its way into the tree house. I wouldn’t let it. “Yes,” I said. “But I don’t think we could stay here. In Derby County.”

“I don’t think we could stay in the South at all,” he said. “Not safely. We’d have to go north. Or west.”

“What about your family?” I felt so distant from mine, except for Buddy. It would take time, I thought, but Buddy would come around. He wouldn’t want to lose me, no matter what I did—or who I married.

“I don’t know about my parents,” he said. “Not sure how they’d react. Most important, though, I’d have to find a way to take care of my sister.”

“Yes,” I agreed. I knew how much he adored his handicapped sister. “And I don’t want to give up my dream of being a pharmacist. I love that mixture of magic and science.”

That made him chuckle. “I love your brain,” he said.

I laughed happily. “That’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He squeezed my shoulder. “There’s more where that came from.” I knew he was smiling.

“And your dream of being a teacher,” I said. “You can’t lose that. So we’d have to go someplace where we could continue going to school.”