A sliver of the moon hung low on the eastern edge of the sky. The stars were just beginning to appear overhead when someone lowered the volume on the radio. AJ had long since gone to bed and only a handful of guests remained. The conversations grew softer, the laughter less raucous, as they moved closer to the house. Farther away from the house, nearer the trees, the cicadas' and crickets' sharp sounds drowned out the softer noises of the guests.
She was sitting on a low bench, canopied under blooming branches. Her knees were pushed together, heels turned out to form a diamond of negative space between her calves. She stretched her arms out, wrists braced against her thighs, and studied the night sky. Across the yard, her friends were laughing and pointing at each other as they reminisced. She had been enjoying their stories, but had slipped away from the group, leaving the candlelight drenched porch for the safety of the trees.
Almost as much as she wanted to go back, to laugh with them, she wanted to stay tucked away beneath the shadows. She didn't want to worry about saying the wrong thing and offending someone - him. Beneath the branches, she didn't have to ward herself against thoughtless, careless comments tossed about like a child's bright red ball. It was calm on the bench and she liked being able to breathe without worrying about exhaling too loudly.
He dropped onto the bench before she realized he had crossed the lawn. "Are you planning on joining the party?"
She smiled slightly and tilted her head back to the breeze. "Just taking a break." She nodded towards the group of people. "What are you doing here?"
"Just taking a break," he mimicked her answer. He stretched his arm across the back of the bench and tried not to notice the way the muscles in her back twitched as his skin brushed against hers.
"Pleasant night," she commented. Her breath hitched slightly, catching in her chest and sticking. She pulled a leg close to her chest; her skirt fanned down around her thighs and she leaned her cheek against her knee to look over at him.
"It is," he agreed. "You've been avoiding me." He raised his eyebrows and leaned against the bench, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing them at the ankles.
"I haven't." She hoped she sounded indignant instead of guilty. Sighing a little, she adjusted a strap on her sandal. "I have," she admitted after a minute.
"I've noticed." He drummed his fingers restlessly against the arm of the bench.
"Oh," she blew out a soft laugh, "and I thought I was being subtle. Sorry."
Silence pushed its way into the conversation, nudging into the spaces between the words until they scattered and disappeared. She studied her toes, wondering if she should give herself a pedicure and if the awkwardness between them would ever go away. A plane flew overhead, turning in a wide arc towards the moon and the ocean, and she wished she were on it. Headed some place far away, some place new. Then she heard Harriet's laugh above the cicadas followed by Mattie's and Jen's giggles, and she realized why she had to stay.
"I haven't really minded," he confessed after minutes had passed and the words still had not returned. He cringed slightly as the wrong words tumbled out of his mouth and sounded harsher than he had intended.
"Oh," she repeated and pulled her leg a little closer before setting it down and stretching the muscles in her back. "We should get back to the party." She placed her hands on the bench and got ready to stand up.
"Sit down, Mac." He put a staying hand on her forearm. "I didn't mean it that way."
"Then how did you mean it?" she snapped the question out and then sighed. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she said, "Sorry. I don't want to fight. Let's just go back to the party."
He held up his hands in defense before resting his forearms against his thighs. "It's a big night," he said.
"Yeah,"
she agreed quietly. She shifted slightly so she could see the party
over his shoulder. The wind was getting stronger and the candles were
flickering wildly in their glasses. Leaves shifted on their branches,
forming black on
night blue lace patterns in the air. A front was supposed to move
in later that night, bringing rain and cooler temperatures. "Just
out of curiosity, did you ever think we'd actually go through with
it?"
He stared at the ground through the space between his knees and wondered. "I don't know." He shrugged. "Maybe. Once in a while. Did you?"
"I don't know." She tilted her head. "It doesn't matter now. You're in a relationship now."
"I am?" He glanced up, puzzled.
"Mattie," she explained. "You have a family now." She smiled as she watched her. She was gesturing at Jen, trying to cover the young woman's mouth. "It's a nice one."
"It is," he agreed, glancing over his shoulder. He smiled, too, as Mattie dropped her head between her knees and covered it with her hands. "A little dramatic."
"She's a teenager, Harm. They're all dramatic."
He stood up and paced away from the bench. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turned back to her. She was looking up at him, waiting for whatever he had to say. Her hands were braced against the bench, one leg tucked behind the other, poised to flee if she didn't like the conversation. "Why did you say what you said in Paraguay?" His pacing stopped and he frowned, as surprised by the question as she was.
"You
mean when I said we would never work?" She slumped against the
bench and pulled on the hem of her skirt. "Because," she
lifted a shoulder in a semi-shrug, "I was tired. I've heard of
people waiting years for a marriage
proposal, but not for a date."
She looked over at the porch. "I want that," she said in a low voice. "I'm getting older and my chances are running out."
"You can still have a family," he argued. "What about Webb?" he asked, wondering why he brought the man's name into the conversation.
"There was never anything there. You never believed me."
"You spent Christmas Eve with him," he pointed out.
"Because I didn't want to spend it alone."
He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at her. "I invited you to spend it with Mattie and me."
She re-tucked the strand of loose hair and looked away. "On Christmas Eve. After the service and after I brought Mattie to the Wall." She bit her lip and added, "And after you told me I'd screw up your custody hearing."
"Mac-"
She held up a hand. "No, I'm sorry. I meant it when I said I didn't want to argue. That was a low blow and I'm sorry." She crossed her ankles and bit back another sigh. "We're going to miss the whole evening if we stay here any longer." But she didn't stand up and she didn't move away when he sat down again.
"We haven't talked like this in a while," he commented as he settled into a more comfortable position. "It's kind of nice," he added.
"What? Civilly?" she asked. "It is nice." The side of the house was illuminated for a brief moment as headlights flashed on it and then pulled away. The temperature was dropping and more people were leaving. "Harriet had a good idea."
"Yeah. She did."
"I should really go see if she needs help with anything." She pushed herself to her feet and scanned the sky. Clouds were easing along the western horizon. The front was moving quickly and soon the rain would start.
His hand reached out and caught hers, tugging lightly on it. "Wait."
She shook her head. "Let me go, Harm."
"Not tonight."
She bit her lip and turned her gaze to the house. It was lit up, inside and outside. She could see Harriet moving around the kitchen. She watched as the woman laughed at something Bud said and swatted him lightly on his arm. Around the porch, people helped move the large piles of presents into the house. Mattie chased a stray ribbon that danced away in the wind. The lanterns were swinging and the candles were low, their smoke now a ghost in the night sky.
"Okay," she shuddered the word out. "But just for tonight."
"Deal."