Three Day Summer(21)
“You can bet your bottom dollar it won’t happen again,” he says as Cora slowly trudges by him. “This is unacceptable, irresponsible behavior and I won’t stand for it.” The door slams shut behind them, but I can hear his voice fading away as he must be following Cora down some sort of hallway. “Just because Max Yasgur thinks it’s okay to invite the entire country to destroy our farms doesn’t mean my kids get to suddenly do whatever they want. . . .”
Yikes. Suddenly I’m a little glad my father is the silent type.
The tree shades me from the rain at least, but I’m not sure what to do. Obviously, I have to get back to the festival soon, but if I leave now, I won’t have said good-bye to Cora at all. What if I leave and she comes back out here looking for me? On the other hand, it doesn’t sound like her dad is likely to let her out of his sight soon. And on yet a third hand—foot?—how long will I have to wait before I’m certain she’s not coming?
I don’t have a watch so I decide to count slowly to two hundred. If she doesn’t get out here by then, I’ll just call it a night.
At seventy-three, I hear the click of a latch. Cora stands in front of a fence, about twenty feet to the right of me. She puts her finger to her lips and waves me over.
Walking as quietly as I can, I keep a nervous eye on the front door of her house.
She takes my hand, reopens the latch on her fence, and takes me through to a barn that’s standing on the far side of her backyard. We go to the side that’s facing away from the house before she speaks.
“I’m really sorry about that,” she whispers.
“Please, don’t apologize. Parents. I’ve got them too.” I smile.
“Yeah, of course. Still, I’m sorry.” She furrows her brow again, which I’m starting to recognize as her worried-nurse look. “Listen, I would totally let you stay in here.” She points to the barn. “But the animals will cause a ruckus and then my dad . . .”
I grab her hand. “Hey, it’s okay. I totally understand. And anyway, I wasn’t going to spend the night here.”
“You weren’t?” she asks.
“No. I just said I’d walk you home. I can’t miss the festival.”
“Oh,” she says. “Right. Of course.” She almost sounds disappointed but I can’t figure out why. Wasn’t she just trying to get me out of here herself? Women are confusing.
“But look, how about we meet tomorrow? What do you think?” I say.
“Tomorrow?”
“Yeah, were you still planning on being there?” I just assumed she would be but maybe that wasn’t so bright.
“Yeah, I’m working the medical tent again.”
“Oh,” I say. “Well, maybe I can just come see you there? Just to say hi?” That sounds stupid.
But she smiles. “That would be nice. And actually, I start work at eleven. Do you maybe want to meet up earlier? Like around nine?”
“That would be great,” I say, a wave of relief washing over me. “At your medical tent?”
Cora nods and then pulls up one of her hands. In it is a half-filled bag of Wonder Bread and a solid bit of something wrapped up in waxed paper.
“Dinner’s on me,” she says.
I take the papered package and peek inside to find a hunk of cheese. “And will I ever meet the lady that produced this?” I ask, pointing to the barn.
“Maybe someday. If you’re good,” she says without missing a beat.
“Seriously, though. Thank you so much,” I start.
“Don’t. It’s nothing.” She hands over the bag of bread. “I have to go, though. Otherwise, I won’t be let out of the house for a nine a.m. meeting with anyone over the next ten to fifteen years.”
“Thank you,” I say again and then, before I can change my mind, I lean down and lightly kiss her lips. It’s quick, a peck at most, but I feel my pulse speed up as I back away and look at her.
She looks surprised but gives me a shy grin when she says, “See you tomorrow.”
“See you,” I say as I quietly go back through the fence, my hands heavier with glorious food, and my head lighter with the electric touch of her lips.
chapter 25
Cora
I don’t take any more chances after Michael leaves me at the barn. I hurry back inside, and I’m in my nightgown and in bed less than ten minutes later so that in case my father checks in, there won’t be anything more he can grumble about.
I sigh at the thought of my dad, still feeling a little embarrassed at everything Michael heard. I don’t know what I expected, though. I couldn’t have scripted that conversation any more accurately if I’d tried. Why didn’t I give the lecture a thought when I invited Michael back to the house?
Maybe because it all felt so . . . nice. To have someone look at me like that, listen to me. I haven’t felt like the center of someone’s attention in a long time, probably since the first few months with Ned. Plain and simple, Michael is fun. Between worrying about things like the future, or disappointing my parents, or Mark, maybe I’ve forgotten what it is to actually have fun. Not that Mark can ever be too far from my thoughts, really. The idea of him being blown to smithereens is imprinted on my brain at this point, and no boy—no matter how cute, or scruffy, or charming—can entirely wipe that clean.