Juniper Limits (The Juniper Series Book 2) Read online

  “Okay, but let’s move a little faster. Are you sure you know where we’re going?”

  For Fay, I picked up the pace. I took a deep breath of the earthy, dusty smell of harvest. “There’s only one direction to go. We just follow the row. The pasture is at the end of this field.”

  She kept her hand on my shoulder the rest of the trek through the corn. When we popped out the other side, we were greeted by a large bonfire and a small crowd. Malcolm jumped up, ever aware of Fay’s every movement, and Paul noticed and jumped up after him. They loped toward us, each seeming to try and walk faster than the other.

  Fay laughed.

  “They are so stupid,” I said.

  “In the best possible way,” she added.

  When the boys reached us, Malcolm gathered Fay into his arms. Paul approached me slowly, hands in his pockets. We weren’t yet at the stage where we had a standard greeting. He nodded toward them and smiled. “There they go again.”

  I walked toward the fire, and Paul walked with me. “So who’s here tonight?”

  “It’s kind of a neat mix of your friends and mine. Derek and Daisy, Molly, Nick, and some new guy named Bennie. He’s going to start school tomorrow.”

  I stopped a distance away from the rest of the people, wanting to keep Paul to myself a little longer. “Fay won’t be the only new kid then. That’s good.”

  “She’s not really new. Everybody knows her from the summer.”

  “It’s different at school.”

  He nodded. “Want to go sit?”

  Bales of straw circled the bonfire, and a large cooler sat nearby. Paul went to the cooler and leaned down to open it, but he let the lid drop back down as he straightened and looked at me. “Are we having beers tonight?”

  I knew he said that because of my dad. “We are having beers tonight. A bonfire in a pasture is not a bonfire in a pasture without beer.”

  He reopened the lid and pulled out two cans and handed one to me. I opened my can and took a sip.

  “Oh good, you’re finally here!” Derek said. He climbed up on the straw bale he’d been sitting on with Daisy, and held onto her head for balance. It was clearly a beer night for Derek. “Hear ye, hear ye! All my loyal constituents have arrived, so the evening’s festivities shall commence!”

  “Oh man,” Paul said.

  Fay and Malcolm made their way over. Nick set down his drink and knelt behind a bale of straw. When he stood, both hands were laden down with fireworks. “Ladies and gents, we’re about to have ourselves a show.” Daisy removed Derek from her head and helped him climb down from the bale, and Nick handed him a pack of fireworks. It was a series of tubes wrapped in paper so they were held together, and the side said Willows.

  “Where did you get these?” Fay asked. “And do fireworks expire? The Fourth of July was months ago.”

  “I had a bunch of these out in the barn. We have to use them up.” Derek leaned down and set the willows on the ground. He pulled a lighter out of his pocket and held it to the fuse.

  My eyes widened and I jumped back, grabbing Fay by the arm.

  “Whoa, whoa!” Malcolm growled and pulled Derek’s arm by the elbow, so the lighter wouldn’t make contact.

  Paul chuckled and picked up the willows, as well as several other fireworks laying at Derek’s feet. “You might want to consider moving a little farther away from all this straw,” he said, patting Derek on the shoulder.

  “Or these people,” Fay said, her arms crossed over her chest.

  Malcolm pried the lighter out of Derek’s hand and looked to Paul with a mischievous look on his face. “He’s too far gone. Looks like it’s up to you and me.”

  “And me,” Nick put in, before tripping backwards over a bale and landing on his ass.

  Molly giggled. I rolled my eyes, but secretly I was enjoying this.

  Paul juggled a cellophane wrapped box of fireworks between his palms and grinned at Malcolm. “Let’s do it.”

  “I want to help,” Bennie said, and he appeared sober enough that Malcolm nodded at him.

  Fay and I sat together on a bale while the boys walked farther out into the pasture.

  “I hope he doesn’t burn off his eyebrows. I really like his eyebrows,” she said.

  Giggles flooded me, and I knew it was likely due to the beer I’d finished. I wasn’t worried about Paul’s eyebrows catching on fire, or the rest of him, for that matter. This was the kind of night that erased all my worries, not the kind that created them. He’d be fine. I pulled my feet up onto the bale and prepared to enjoy the show.

  From this distance, I could see the dark forms of Bennie, Malcolm, and Paul bent over the fireworks. Some sparks disseminated and two of the boys jumped back. I could tell it was Paul who didn’t flinch. One at a time, yellow sparks shot into the sky and rained out in the shape of a willow tree, until all eight tubes were spent. Each one came with a deafening pop, and I swear I felt a spark land on my arm. I brushed at my shoulder and inspected my hair to be sure I hadn’t been lit on fire.

  Next came another willow, then a few shaped like red globes, and then a pink one shaped like palm leaves.

  Derek and Nick lay on the ground, mesmerized by the colorful glow of the sky. “Wow,” one of them said, drawing out the word so it lasted a long breath.

  That gave Fay the giggles, and we oohed and aahed and laughed our way through ten more fireworks.

  Paul came jogging back over. “What did you think?” he asked, out of breath, sweaty, and glowing from the joy of explosions created under his hands.

  “I’m wondering why we bothered sneaking across Derek’s yard,” I said, giggling some more.

  A huge burst of a laugh came from Fay, but then she turned serious quickly. “Really, though. There is underage drinking happening in this pasture, and you guys basically launched a dozen flares pointing right at us.”

  “It was twenty,” Bennie said, coming up behind Paul and slapping him on the back. “Twenty flares.”

  “I’m not worried. It was just some fireworks. Nothing the cops are going to care about,” Paul said.

  I smiled to myself. If Paul wasn’t worried, I wasn’t worried. It was starting to work that way.

  “What about his parents?” Fay asked, gesturing to Derek.

  Derek leaned up on his elbows and looked at the rest of us. “Nah, man. My dad knew we were going to set them off. He said it was okay.” Then he lay back down and closed his eyes. Daisy joined him in the grass, their heads bent toward each other, the bonfire at their feet.

  Malcolm held out his hand to help Fay stand. “There’s a little stream in those trees over there. Want to go check it out?”

  “You know I can’t resist water.” She hopped up and slipped her hand around Malcolm’s waist, and they strode off toward the trees. I looked for Molly, and she and Bennie were on the other side of the bonfire, straddling a bale and laughing about something. Half the time it seemed like parties were only intended as a way for people to pair off.

  Paul sat down by my feet and leaned back against the bale of straw. “Want another beer?”

  “I better not. I have to be home in an hour.”

  “You know what that leaves just enough time for?”

  “What?”

  “Kittens.”

  I stared at the top of his head. The hair at the back was flipped over the wrong way, across his part. I wanted to reach out and flip it back, but I kept my hands to myself. “Kittens?”

  “See that barn over there?” He pointed to a small, dilapidated structure to the west of the pasture. “When Derek was hunting for the fireworks, he found a litter of kittens with their mama.”

  I stood up and reached down for his hand, and pulled him up to standing. “Daisy, Molly, want to go see some kittens?”

  Molly widened her eyes at me, tilting her head ardently toward Bennie, obviously wanting to stay there with him and for me not to jeopardize her opportunity. Daisy’s hand lifted in the air and then flopped back to the ground. “
I would, but I don’t want to.” She and Derek dissolved into a fit of giggles. Nick snored on the ground behind the bale where he’d never gotten up.

  “Looks like it’s just us.” I looked down to where our hands were still joined, and back up to Paul’s eyes, where the reflection of the fire danced.

  The tall grass of the pasture scratched at my ankles as I high-stepped across it. When we reached the barn, I pushed the stiff and squeaky door open. A hole in the roof let in a little moonlight, but not enough to see where I stepped. “Do you have a flashlight?”

  Behind me, Paul pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight. “I don’t have much battery left.” He lifted his arm and reached around me, holding it out to shine on the dirt floor in front of me.

  His arm floated there, brushing against mine, and I caught the scent of smoke from the fireworks. “Kitties, are you in here?” I said softly.

  A soft mewling came from the back corner. Paul stepped around me to lead the way with the light. He crouched down beside a wooden work bench, and I copied his movements, squeezing into the small corner beside him. There, on a pile of old rags, was an orange mama cat lying on her side, with three babies in a row, suckling. Another baby was near the mama’s head, being licked—its body swaying with each stroke of the tongue.

  A light sigh of delight escaped my lips, and Paul’s head whipped around to look at me. “You love cats.”

  “I’ve always wanted one,” I whispered, unable to tear my eyes away from the tiny ears, bobbing as they kneaded their mother’s fleshy belly.

  Paul’s head was only inches from mine, and he seemed as unable to look away from my face as I was unable to look away from the kittens. His breath brushed across my cheeks. “When they’re big enough, Derek will let you have one.”

  “I’ve never asked for a pet before. I have no idea what my parents would say.”

  “If you could have one, which one would you want?”

  I looked at the babies. Three of them were orange tones, like their mother. One was light gray. As though it could tell I was thinking about it, the gray one lifted its head and moved away from its mama. Its head wobbled as it climbed over its siblings. “That one. The gray one.”

  Paul reached down and picked it up, cradling it in his palm. He petted its head with one large finger, and the kitten produced a tiny mew. He flipped it over and inspected it. “It’s a little early to tell, but I think it’s a girl. Hold out your hands.”

  He dropped the little kitten into my cupped hands, and I saw that her eyes were still sealed shut, and she had a pink nose. I lifted her until my nose touched hers. I felt a little silly as tears swam in my eyes, and I lowered her and stroked my hand over her thin back. “She’s awfully skinny.”

  “It’s just because she’s so young—probably only a week old. She’ll fatten up.” Paul’s voice was a soft whisper.

  “I better put her back.” Reluctantly, I set her down next to her mama’s face, and the big cat began to lick my scent off her baby.

  I sat back on my heels and looked at Paul. From his expression, I could tell that the glowing inside me was evident on my face. “This is the best party I’ve ever been to,” I blurted out, marveling at the way I spoke without thinking or guarding myself.

  “Me too,” he said, perfectly comfortable because he had never guarded himself at all. “The best party by far.”

  15

  Paul was exhausted after a long, hot afternoon taming lawns by himself. It was Friday night, and Malcolm was playing football—an away game. Half of Juniper had gone to watch, leaving the town feeling smaller than ever.

  Paul was glad he didn’t play. He’d considered it before, but he didn’t like the way it ate up weekends, afternoons, and half the summer. Not to mention that they couldn’t afford all the gear required. The biggest reason, though, was that he didn’t want his mom sitting in the bleachers.

  His mom was either at home or at work, and it worked out best for him that way. A few years ago, when he was in ninth grade, she showed up at the school art night. He’d had no idea she was coming. At dinner she’d been quiet and said she wanted to go to bed early. Attendance was mandatory for the featured art students, and Paul had made a drawing of a lion that Mr. Brock wanted to display.

  His mom arrived halfway through the teacher’s speech, wearing pajamas. She stood off to the side and searched for Paul in the auditorium, and when he raised his hand so she could find him, she squeezed down the aisle to sit beside him. He’d never forget the way Mr. Brock paused while she jostled knees and generally made a racket in the otherwise silent auditorium. A few minutes after sitting down, her head dropped and she snored lightly. He didn’t look around to see if anyone noticed. He just let her sleep.

  After the speech, the crowd was supposed to disperse and look at the artwork. Paul woke his mom up and told her they should go, but she wanted to talk to Mr. Brock. Helpless to change the course she had set for the night, he held her up by her elbow and led her to his teacher. He watched in horror as she slurred her words and didn’t make any sense, and realization dawned on Mr. Brock’s face.

  She called him Gerald, Paul’s father’s name. Panic rising, Paul told her they should go. Instead of moving toward the door, she snapped at him a little too loudly that she wasn’t leaving until she saw his drawing. Mr. Brock looked at him with pity and concern in his eyes.

  Paul would never forget how it felt trying to reassure his teacher that everything was fine, to get his mother to quit arguing with him and leave, and to ignore the whispers that surrounded them. It had been the single most exhausting moment of his life. Since then, Paul didn’t play sports or do any organized activities. He’d even dropped art.

  On his route home, Paul passed by the town park. The pond glittered in the evening sun. A thought grabbed him, and he let it have its way. He raced across the grass, flung off his boots and dropped his phone into one, and hopped in—clothes and all. Some kids playing Frisbee nearby laughed, and he smiled up at the September sky as he floated on his back in the water.

  He smiled at the fluffy, white clouds as he thought about what Malcolm had talked him into today during study hall. They’d long planned to apply to Indiana University, but Malcolm wanted to go the early decision route—to apply early and commit to it if he was accepted. He was sure that’s where he wanted to go, and he wanted Paul to be as sure as he was. He had come supplied with a stack of forms, and they’d spent the hour filling them out. It seemed a little pie-in-the-sky to think he might get in, that it might actually happen, but it made Paul happy to daydream about it. It was also a little scary. He didn’t know how he’d be able to leave his mom behind, and the more time passed, the more he didn’t know how he’d be able to leave Celia behind, either.

  He breathed in deeply, the water tickling the sides of his face as he floated. When he started to shiver, he climbed out and lay on the grass. His limbs and eyelids heavy, his jeans itchy and clinging to his legs, he let his eyes fall closed and pressed his back into the sun-warm grass.

  16

  His hair had dried in an amusing swirl, sticking up from the top of his head. His shirt was bunched up on the left side. His socks drooped off the end of his toes. But it was his hands that made my heart gather itself into a tight fist in my chest. One of his hands was wrapped around the other, and both were tucked beneath his chin.

  I knelt down beside him and watched his eyeballs twitch under the lids. Unable to resist, I held my hair back from my face and leaned over him, pressing my lips to his right eyelid. His eyes popped open and I rocked back on my heels, hoping he didn’t realize what woke him.

  He propped himself up on his elbows. “Hey.” He looked around. “It got dark out.” His voice was scratchy from sleep. He rubbed a hand over his hair, grimacing when he felt the way it dried.

  “Paul,” I said softly, trying to breathe through the frightful tenderness I felt toward him. I wanted nothing more than to take him in my arms and comb my fingers through his cr
azy hair. I could do it. He’d let me do it. I trembled from fear and restraint, and hardened my voice. “You’re soaking wet, you bonehead. You’re going to get sick.”

  He smiled. “You do care about me.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  He sat up all the way. “I was hot, so I jumped in.”

  “You’re always doing that—just jumping in without thinking it through.”

  “It always seems to work out.”

  “And you’re always falling asleep outside.”

  “I like sleeping outside.” He lifted his arms and stretched toward the sky, yawning. “So what are you doing here?”

  Water leeched from the ground and into the seat of my pants, but I didn’t care. “I’ve been all over the place looking for you.”

  A grin pulled up the side of his mouth. “You have?”

  “Don’t get all crazy on me.”

  “I’m already crazy on you. Crazy about you, crazy for you—all the prepositions.”

  I shook my head at him, and forced my face into a neutral expression. He needed no encouragement. “Yes, I was looking for you. I guess you make me feel like I have to walk all over town until I find you, soaking wet and asleep under a tree in the dark.”

  He leaned closer to me. “You make me feel all stirred up. Like I need to outrun my own body. Like I can’t sit still.” My heart pounded in my chest as he scooted closer. He reached out and pulled both of my hands from my lap and cradled them in both of his. His hands were freezing cold. “Celia, I’m all in. Are you in this with me?” I watched his throat move as he swallowed.

  “I’ve never had something like this before.” It was true. This was unlike anything I’d ever experienced.

  “Me neither.”

  “Expectations make me nervous.”

  “Only think about this minute, right now. In this minute, do you want to be with me?”

  “In this minute?”

  “Right now.”

  I only had enough breath to whisper. “Yes.”