The Shop on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #1)(53)

Carol let his words sink in. She was seeing her brother realistically for the very first time. He was a selfish little boy who refused to grow up. She wondered how many people had recognized it before her.

Later, as Carol snuggled close to her husband in bed, she couldn’t help thinking about life’s many injustices.

“Why is it,” she asked in a whisper, “that women who don’t want to get pregnant have such an easy time of it?”

She felt her husband’s slight nod of agreement. “I wish I had an answer, sweetheart, but life just isn’t fair.”

“No kidding,” she muttered for the second time that night.

CHAPTER 25

ALIX TOWNSEND

A lix slept late on Friday morning, lying in bed while the last remnants of sleep faded away. She was warm and comfortable and unwilling to move. Keeping her eyes closed, she let her mind linger on the kiss she’d shared with Jordan. Never in all her life had she realized a kiss could be so good.

She’d been kissed plenty, and had lots of other experience, too. Still, no kiss had affected her like that one. The men she knew tended to be rough and sweaty and urgent in their need to dominate. She’d never known such sweet pleasure from a simple kiss. But then, she reminded herself, this could all be tied up with a childhood dream that had been shattered one night in the sixth grade.

Even now, more than a week later, she remembered every nuance of his kiss. His hands had framed her face and his eyes had locked with hers. She’d seen his look of surprise—and uncertainty. They’d parted soon afterward, and it almost seemed to her that they needed to get away from each other in order to assimilate what had happened.

Alix hadn’t seen Jordan since, hadn’t talked to him, either. She tried not to dwell on that. Unsure what prompted her, on Sunday morning Alix had walked over to the Free Methodist church Jordan had mentioned. She stood across the street and chain-smoked three cigarettes while she watched people file in.

Jordan was right about one thing: only a few of the older adults wore hats and gloves and dresses. Various families came with youngsters in tow, all carrying Bibles. Alix had only ever owned one Bible and that had been so long ago, she didn’t know where it had gone. Staring at the churchgoers, she saw that most people wore casual clothes, but that wasn’t a strong enough incentive to send her inside.

She’d loitered on the corner, hoping, she guessed, that Jordan would notice her. He obviously hadn’t; she didn’t see him either.

The music was good, upbeat and lively—not what she remembered at all. Alix had heard church music as a kid and it had sounded like something out of the Middle Ages, but it wasn’t that way now. Once she’d even caught herself humming along and quickly stopped.

After about forty minutes, she’d walked away, hands buried deep in her pockets. It wouldn’t have hurt to slip into the back pew and take a look, but fear made that impossible. Analyzing her actions now, nearly a week later, Alix wasn’t sure what she’d been so afraid of. The possibility of someone talking to her, perhaps.

Rather than brood on last week’s disappointment, Alix tossed back the sheets and climbed slowly out of bed. Laurel was sitting in front of the television, an old model with a faded picture tube and tinfoil-wrapped rabbit ears. Her roommate stared intently at a kids’ cartoon.

“Morning,” Alix muttered as she wandered into their tiny kitchen.

Laurel ignored her.

“What’s your problem?” she asked irritably. They were supposed to be friends, but Laurel rarely spoke to her anymore. She’d been sulking for weeks now.

Laurel shook her head, silently indicating that she didn’t want to talk. Alix had no idea what was bothering her, but she assumed it had something to do with that worm of a used-car salesman. He hadn’t been around lately. For a while they’d been together constantly and then all of a sudden he was out of the picture. Whatever had happened remained a mystery. Laurel certainly wasn’t telling.

“Fine, be in a bad mood.” Alix reached for a banana. “See if I care.”

Once again Laurel ignored her. Peeling the banana, Alix plopped down on the one stuffed chair in the apartment. Someone had abandoned it in a vacant lot. Alix and Laurel had come upon it and carried it the three blocks back to the apartment. It was pretty ratty, but Alix had found a printed sheet and spread it over the chair. With a few tucks and folds it wasn’t half bad. No designers would be asking her to make a guest appearance on their shows, but it worked for now.

Biting into the banana, Alix noticed that the baby blanket she was knitting lay on the floor.

“What the hell happened here?” she demanded. She flew off the chair to rescue her project. The ball of yarn had unwound and ended up near the apartment door.

Laurel wasn’t paying her any heed.

Standing directly in front of the television, Alix glared at her roommate. “I don’t know what your problem is, but get over it.”

“Keep your knitting away from me.”

Alix snickered; she couldn’t help it. “What’s the matter? Did it chase after you?”

“It was in my way.”

“So you threw it at the door?” Talk about unreasonable!

Laurel didn’t answer.

Alix examined the nearly completed blanket, unsure what she’d do if Laurel had caused her to drop stitches or worse, pulled out the needles. Laurel was treading precariously close to a fight. Alix was sick of her roommate’s bad moods, sick of her slovenly habits and sick of her mooning over a man who was a loser with a capital L.