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And I wanted, more than anything, to protect Jeb as we made our journey across the river.
He was ahead of me, already knee deep in the water. In a moment, he’d be in up to his waist and would move his arms above his head to dive in, gracefully parting the greenish brown water.
I grabbed the pendant from the branch and hurried toward him. Once I could, I threw the chain over his head, almost like a lasso. It settled around his neck and hung down just below his collarbone. I kissed the back of his neck.
He turned to me in surprise, one hand touching the purple stone. “What’s this?”
“I just found it. Hanging there on that tree. Finders keepers, right?” I turned to point and then turned back. “I was meant to give it to you.” I grinned. “For protection.”
His eyes grew misty, soft, reminding me of the color of moss. “But what will protect you?”
“You, of course. Now let’s get going. Those clouds are getting blacker, and I think there’s more than just a shower on the way.”
We both hurried into the river, whose surface was now rippled by the wind, as gray as the sky above.
Wordlessly, we raced each other back to shore.
III
St. Clair was a town of only ten thousand souls, but you wouldn’t know it from their annual fireworks display. Shot off from a barge in the Ohio River, the night sky lit up in brilliant blooms of color for more than twenty minutes every July Fourth. Town roads were filled with potholes. The downtown was a sad conglomeration of boarded-up storefronts for businesses that had thrived, petered out, and died, especially when the steel mill just east of us on the Pennsylvania border closed, back when Mom was a girl. But the town’s poverty didn’t stop St. Clair from putting on an awesome Independence Day celebration every year. Somehow, they found the funds for an extended, loud, and patriotic display.
Mom and I had our secret spot for viewing. Each year, we were amazed that no one else had discovered it, because the viewpoint had to be the best in town.
Mom had known about it since she was a little girl and her father would take her hiking in the hilly wilderness bordering the town, looking for mushrooms. Off Acton Road, there was a dirt driveway to an abandoned house, which, to be honest, looked like something out of a horror movie. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see Leatherface himself, or maybe Michael Myers, emerge from behind its peeling, rusty-hinged front door. Weathered gray wood, falling-down gutters, a weed-infested yard filled with decaying auto parts, and broken-out windows made for a nightmare-inducing setting. The place had been a mystery for decades—complete with rumors that someone had been murdered in the house—and it was probably the reason no one ever ventured up the steep, blackberry-vine-choked hillside behind it.
No one, that is, except my family.
Once we hiked our way up that challenging rise, we were rewarded—big time. At the top of the hill was a path that ran along a steep drop-off in the direction of the river. Looking down from its height, you could see the whole valley open up—the brownish curving snake of the Ohio, Harker Island, barges making slow progress on the muddy water, the houses and small businesses rising along both tree-covered hillsides on the Ohio side and the northern panhandle of West Virginia side. It was glorious and breathtaking, even without the promise of fireworks.
We headed up there now. Mom, Jeb, and I lugged a cooler filled with pop, Mom’s egg-salad sandwiches, chips, and my favorite—chocolate cupcakes with maple frosting.
The day was winding down into dusk and the sunlight was a perfect peach-c0l0red hue at the edge of the horizon. Below us, traffic along Route 7 slowed, some of the cars even pulled over on the side of the road to watch the fireworks. A crowd also gathered at the wharf just off of downtown. Some of them were on foot, but many idled in small motor boats. There were even a few jet skis circling in the dark water.
Distant music drifted up to us. I could make out Madonna singing, ‘Papa, Don’t Preach,’ the Pet Shop Boys with ‘West End Girls,’ and Steve Winwood wanting someone to bring him a higher love.
As we settled, the sky morphed from blue to orange, lavender, and gray.
This is going to be a perfect night. Stars began to wink in the darkening sky. There wasn’t a cloud in sight.
Mom opened up the cooler and picnic hamper while Jeb and I spread out the large quilt we’d brought, digging its corners down into the soft, grassy earth at our feet. All the while, our dog, Vanilla, a white terrier mix, danced around us, yapping, tail wagging. I’m sure she was hopeful that some of the food we’d brought would come her way. “Don’t you worry,” I told her, “We have cookies for you, too.”
I met Jeb’s gaze once we sat. I’d told him earlier in the day that I wanted to let Mom know about my feelings for him. “She’d get it. She really would. I know her. She’s not a judger.”
“No, no, and again, no.” Jeb made his feelings clear. Even though I assured him that the conversation would go no further than the three of us, he was terrified thatmyouting myself to the one person I loved most in the world (besides Jeb, himself, of course) would somehow jeopardize his own closely guarded public image. Jeb played football at East Junior and, in the summer, baseball. His dad came to all the games. Girls loved him. No one suspected him of being gay. Not like they did bookish, quiet, and movie-musical-adoring me.
I didn’t even bother to try to hide it.
I knew Jeb wasn’t ready, but that didn’t stop me from being impatient. At least he’d agreed to spend the night at our house. I wouldn’t force anything, of course, but my fantasies had been in high gear all day.
IV
The fireworks weren’t a disappointment.
The display lasted even longer than usual. The grand finale came close to inducing serious hearing loss. All of us loved it, even our weirdo dog, Vanilla, who had never been one of those canines who cower at loud noises like thunder and, well, fireworks. She lay calmly beside me the whole time, occasionally glancing up at the sky, cocking her head. She had a Nylabone to chew on and my comforting hand scratching behind her ears to keep her settled. As long as she was with us, she was happy.
And so was I.
Once the pyrotechnics show was over and the crowds near the river below us dispersed and when the wind washed away the gunpowder scent, we began to gather our things up.
