Beneath the Apple Leaves(61)

Lily walked briskly up the incline of the road, nearly at a trot, a battered notebook pressed against her chest. Her breath rose in wooly puffs against the chilled air as her boots crunched along the road’s gravel. A month had passed since the funeral, since their first kiss, and they had hardly spoken since, the affection mired with the grief they had both felt that night.

The sky rested dark with the new moon, the constellations popping without lunar competition. Andrew leaned back to look at the stars. “Missed having you around lately. Was hoping you’d stop by for a reading lesson.” Lesson. He remembered what Francine had taught him in Pittsburgh and he turned red, thankful for the lack of light.

“Been busy. Helping Mrs. Sullivan and all.” She met his gaze quickly.

For the first time, he saw the bruise to the right of her mouth. A dark draft scuttled across his skin. He stopped her. “Lily, what happened to your face?”

Her hand flew to her cheek and she turned, began walking again. “Nothing.”

He took her sleeve and pulled her close. “Did somebody . . .”

“No,” she said. “Nobody did anything. All right? Just clumsy is all. Banged my face in the barn. Didn’t have my lantern lit and couldn’t see a thing.”

She pulled her arm away and her voice rose angrily. “I don’t need you looking out for me, Andrew Houghton. All right? I don’t need you asking me about a stupid bruise. And I don’t need you walking me home, either. I’ve been doing just fine in this life all by myself.” Her voice rose sharply and trembled with the pitch.

“What’s this all about, Lily?”

“Nothing.” A long tear flowed from each eye and she wiped them roughly away. “Just better if you leave me be.”

He kissed her then, felt the salty tears upon her lips and the new ones that splashed against his cheeks. She tried to pull away even as her body and lips melded against his. He held her face with his hand, combed it through her hair, leaned her neck back and kissed her throat. She curled into his neck. “Please,” she begged uselessly. “Just leave me be.”

He shook his head. “No.” Andrew wrapped his arm around her shoulders, felt the way she crumpled against him. “I’m not going to do that, Lily girl.”

She reached for him and the notebook she had been clutching dropped to the ground with spread pages, revealing the pencil drawings. “You drew these?”

“They’re not very good.” Lily went to grab the notebook, but he got to it first.

“Can I at least look at them?”

Lily grunted and snatched the notebook, securing it easily from his loose grip. “Told you they’re not very good.” She fanned the drawings in front of him, one animal after another, before slamming the pages closed. “Happy now?”

“Yes. And for the record, they’re very good.”

She scoffed, then abated. “You think?”

“Yeah. They’re very good, Lily.” Then, he motioned to the remnants of an old stone wall. “Come sit with me for a sec.”

They rested on the cold stones. “Do you have a pencil?” he asked. Lily pulled out her drawing tool from her pocket, handed it over. “Mind if I add something?”

Her eyebrows scrunched inquisitively as she opened her notebook and held it on her lap. On the first page, he wrote the word “Deer,” on the second, “Rabbit,” on the third, “Hawk.” Page by page, he titled each of the animals. He handed the pencil back. “There. Your first reading lesson.”

The corners of her mouth rose. The bruise on her cheek pinched, leaving him empty and wanting to put a light kiss against the injury. She touched the letters he had sketched on each page, moved her lips soundlessly as she formed each word.

Lily’s innocence, the purity and beauty of her, washed over his flesh and left him flushed. “We better get you home before you freeze to death,” he said with effort. Andrew took her hand until she stood and did not release the fingers entwined in his own.

They climbed the rest of the miles as one body, clung tightly against each other in the frozen air, and yet they were warm. Lily turned to him. “You never said why you came to Widow Sullivan’s ?”

“Wanted to ask you something.” He gripped her hand, the nerves taking him by surprise. “I’m playing baseball this Saturday and thought you might like to come. Thought maybe after, I could take you to town.” He grinned bashfully. “We could see a show at the nickelodeon or do whatever you’d like.”

Her lips pressed together happily and her cheeks glowed. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Suppose I am.”

Lily grew a full inch and her posture straightened. “I would like that very much.”

With sheer relief, he kissed her on the top of her silky hair, wanted to drown in the softness. At the Morton door, Andrew kissed her again on the lips, careful not to graze the bruise near her mouth. She sighed languidly as he pulled away. “Good night, Lily girl. See you Saturday.”

“Good night, Dr. Houghton,” she said fondly.

“Dr.?”

She tilted her head and watched him with reverence. “Tonight, you became a paid veterinarian, remember?” She blew a kiss at him. “Good night, Dr. Houghton.”

The ache for the career renewed in that moment. He wasn’t a vet, but perhaps he had a service to offer after all. “Good night,” he said again, the hope and pride sudden and gleaming in the cold night air.