Life-Changing Love, page 21
He followed.
Once in the kitchen, she picked up a dirty cookie sheet and set it in the sink. She could clean until Keefe and Zoe came back up. It was a bad habit of hers, and Zoe wouldn’t approve, this being Caitlyn’s party and all.
“You guys afraid to be alone together?”
Jarret stood closer than she realized, making her jump. “What? No. Why would you say that?”
“He hasn’t even kissed you yet, has he?”
She gave him a none-of-your-business glare and kept cleaning, dumping onion rings onto a plate, peeling foil off the cookie sheet, putting the cookie sheet away . . .
“Maybe you’re both afraid of your feelings.”
Caitlyn tensed, her armor coming out. “Not everyone does things the way you do. You put the horse before the cart, or cart before the horse, or whatever.”
“What does that mean?”
“You know what it means. You’re too fast.”
Grinning, he went to the blender and returned with a slushy pink drink that he poured into her half-empty glass. “Why don’t you take your drink and your onion rings and go sit at the table?”
“I don’t want to sit at the table.” She wiped the counter with a damp washcloth.
“Where do you want to sit, on the countertop?”
“Maybe.” She dried the counter with a hand towel, then turned and pulled herself up onto it, giving him a smug grin and folding her arms.
He looked pleased and swaggered closer. “I bet your parents put the cart before the horse. That’s what happens when two people are into each other. They know what it’s like. Maybe that’s why they set all these silly rules for you.”
A comfortable fog had entered her brain and every muscle in her body felt smooth and relaxed. “My parents did not put the cart before the horse.”
She studied his face. It was amazing how two people, just because they were twins, could look so alike. Keefe and Jarret had the same high cheekbones, curvy mouth, dark brows, and heavy-lidded, long-lashed, Coca-Cola eyes.
The eyes . . . Now that she really looked into them, there was a difference. Perhaps it was a reflection of what lay behind them. Keefe had nothing but pure and kind intentions, while Jarret seemed bent on annoying her.
He handed her a drink then rested his hand on the counter, next to her, a leering look in his eyes. “So, tomorrow’s your birthday, huh?” While he scrutinized her entire face, his thumb touched her skirt at the thigh.
“Yes, it’s tomorrow.” She glanced at his hand but couldn’t tell if the touch was intentional, so she decided not to draw attention to it.
“Okay, and when were your parents married? Their anniversary? When is that?” With eyes glued to her face, his thumb moved an inch down her thigh.
Could that have been accidental? “Um . . .” She broke from his gaze so she could think. Where was Keefe? How long did it take to re-hang lights? He wouldn’t like that Jarret had her trapped on the kitchen countertop where she couldn’t get down without sliding into his arms . . . Okay, what was the question? “My parents . . . They got married in April, I think. Yeah, April.”
A slow grin spread across his face. “April, huh? How long they been married?”
She glanced at the ceiling, trying to remember. Oh yes, the cake. She helped make their last anniversary cake. Let’s see . . . which anniversary was it? “Fifteen years.”
His lips parted and a breathy chuckle came out. Then he nodded and rested his hand on her thigh.
“Stop it.” She shoved his hand and clutched his wrist so he couldn’t touch her again.
He twisted his arm until he had her wrist, but she didn’t release his. “So you’re turning fourteen tomorrow?” He smirked.
“No.” She wrestled her wrist from his grasp and rubbed it with her other hand, not that it hurt. His touch disgusted her. “You know how old I’ll be. I’ll be fifteen.”
As he snickered again, he pushed off from the counter. “Yeah. Told you. Takes nine months for a baby.” He stepped backwards. “You do the math. Your parents did it in February and married when they found out about you.” He jabbed his index finger at her and turned away.
She watched him swagger through the dining room and into the sunken family room. He couldn’t be right. April was their fifteenth anniversary. May, June, July . . .
She counted months on her fingers but only came up with seven. Any chance she was a premie? That had to be it. As strong as her parents felt about waiting for marriage, there was no way they—
“Hey.” Keefe came through the basement doorway. He glanced at Jarret, who now lay on the couch playing with the TV remote, then came to Caitlyn. “Why are you sitting on the countertop?”
“What? Oh. I don’t know.” She slid down, into his arms—that he withdrew as soon as her feet landed on the kitchen floor. She sighed and picked up her drink, wishing he wanted to kiss her.
He took the drink from her and set it on the counter. “I think these are spiked.”
“What?”
Keefe opened a cupboard, closed it, and opened another. “Can’t you feel it? I’m starting to feel sort of fuzzy.”
“Oh. I guess I am, too.” She eyed the drink suspiciously then stomped to the family room.
Zoe had also returned and now lay beside Jarret on the couch, with her arm draped across his chest. Jarret only seemed interested in flipping channels.
Caitlyn stopped, intentionally blocking Jarret’s view of the TV, and folded her arms. “Did you really put alcohol in our drinks?”
He craned his neck to one side. “You’re in my way.”
“Aren’t you going to answer me?”
“You figure it out.” He grinned, his eyes sparkling with his cocky attitude. “That’ll give you two things to figure out tonight.”
“What’s the other thing?” Zoe asked.
“Caitlyn, let’s just go.” Keefe came up beside her and offered his hand.
“What?” Jarret shoved Zoe aside and jumped up from the couch. “You can’t leave. This is your girlfriend’s birthday party. We’ve got cake, music, drinks, a movie. Or . . . you can go upstairs.”
Keefe’s face flinched. He drew back a fist.
Jarret glanced at Keefe’s fist and grinned, looking pleased that he’d managed to rile up his ever-calm twin. “What’re you gonna do with that?”
Keefe lowered his fist, took Caitlyn’s arm, and tugged her from the room.
Jarret followed. “Man, you’re a wimp. She knew Zoe’s parents weren’t gonna be here. She wants you to lighten up.”
“Don’t speak for me,” Caitlyn said.
Keefe led her down the hall, stopping at the pile of shoes by the door. He stooped for her boots and handed them to her. Then he faced Jarret, stepping toward him as he spoke. “Listen, brother. You put yourself in situations like this where you end up doing something stupid, something wrong.” He continued inching forward though Jarret stood his ground. “All my life, I’ve tried talking you out of bad decisions.” They stood face to face now, closer than two guys really ought to stand. “But I’ve also gone along with you . . . too many times. I’m done doing that. You’re on your own.”
Jarret’s bottom lip jutted out, his eyes sulky. “I’ve been on my own since you went to Italy. You went to Italy, and a stranger came back. You’re not my brother.” He turned away, to where Zoe waited in the hall, and the two of them walked arm in arm back to the living room.
Caitlyn picked up Keefe’s tennis shoes and stuffed her feet into the boots while Keefe yanked their coats from the closet. Eyes downcast and shoes in hand, he opened the door and motioned for her to go out first.
“I’m sorry about all this.” Caitlyn buttoned her coat as the door squeezed shut.
“It’s not your fault.” Keefe shoved his foot into a shoe, stumbled, and sat on the patio chair under the window to finish the job. “I have a different way of looking at things than I had in the past. He doesn’t understand that. He doesn’t respect that. I don’t blame him. He’s right about me coming back a different person. To him, I’m a stranger.” He stood and gazed through Caitlyn, perhaps recalling a memory or thinking of Jarret.
She wanted to take his hand and wished he wanted to kiss her, but she shoved her hands into her coat pockets instead.
As they walked, the cold air and sprinkle of snowflakes did her good. She took long, deep breaths and soon the cloud in her head dissipated. Guilt and joy crept into her mind, a confusing and uncomfortable combination. She knew where she went wrong. But she marveled to see the strength in Keefe. She hoped he wouldn’t change his opinion of her over this.
“Keefe . . .” It took a bit of courage for her to speak. “Jarret was right.”
Keefe didn’t look or reply. He pulled a stocking cap from his pocket and put it on.
“I knew her parents weren’t going to be there. I let Zoe talk me into this party. I’m sorry. Now we have to walk back in the snow, and I’ll have to tell my parents.” The last thought troubled her the most. She’d always been trustworthy. This was her first lie, and she hated to let them down.
He turned and in his eyes, she saw only compassion. He smiled. “We all make mistakes, me more than others.”
Caitlyn couldn’t imagine why he felt that way. She gathered it had something to do with what he had said to Jarret before they left, about going along with Jarret’s bad ideas.
They walked to the sound of their feet crunching in the snow. Snowflakes danced like ballerinas in the sky and gathered on their shoulders.
As they climbed the hill between Zoe’s and Caitlyn’s house, Keefe broke the silence. “Jarret was right about me, too. I did change in Italy. I changed when I witnessed that Eucharistic miracle.”
Her heart skipped a beat. He was going to tell her more about it, and she didn’t even have to ask.
“I tell you, Caitlyn, when I walked into that church, I had no idea what was about to happen to me. I was just looking for my father. But as soon as I laid eyes on that cloth, on the blood, I just . . . I fell to my knees. I knew in my heart it was Jesus. At that moment, I could think of nothing else. It was my Lord, Creator of the universe, Redeemer of the world, and He loved me. It overpowered me.”
Keefe dipped his head and wiped his nose with his gloved hand. “Feeling His amazing love made me want to . . . I don’t know, try to love Him back. I decided things in my life had to change. I made promises. That’s why I cut my hair. It’s a sign of my promises.” His expression showed sadness but also joy. “Sometimes, I still feel His love strong like that, especially at Mass. Not that I have to feel it to believe it, but . . .”
“I understand.” His words struck her deep within, making it difficult for her to speak.
“I’m so weak, Caitlyn. Part of me wants to be who Jarret wants me to be. I ache thinking how alone I’m making him feel.” He shook his head. “I have faith but my faith is so . . . weak. When I was in Italy, I drew strength from the churches, museums, all the religious artwork, even just walking down the streets of that ancient city. But now, I’m on my own.”
“You’re not on your own. The Lord is with you. You said so yourself.”
He nodded.
“I’m with you, too,” Caitlyn said. “We can help each other, like you helped me tonight.”
Chapter Thirty-six
Jarret
Two weeks later, Thanksgiving morning, Jarret leaned against the doorframe, admiring Zoe’s slender figure right before she hid it with her coat. “Why didn’t you wear that red dress I like on you?”
“What’s wrong with this dress?” She held her coat open and wiggled her hips. “You don’t like black on me?” She gave him a sophisticated glare that instantly turned him on.
He grabbed her, wanting to pull her into his arms, but she twisted away. “Fine. Let’s go before your parents get here.” Her parents had gone to her grandparents’ earlier in the day and probably wouldn’t return until late, but why take chances.
She slung the skinny strap of her black purse onto her shoulder. “Why don’t you like my parents?”
“You got that wrong, babe. They don’t like me.” He opened the front door and led the way to his shiny red Chrysler. He loved that car. Just seeing it could lift him out of a mood.
She got in and closed the door. “I’ve always had Thanksgiving at my grandparents’ house.” She stared at her fingernails. “And I could understand going to your house. That would’ve been nice. Your dining room is gorgeous, the long table, the chandelier. It would be perfect. But the Brandts’? Why is everyone going over there?”
Everyone meant his family, her, and the Summers.
Jarret shrugged and cranked the engine to life. “I don’t know. The Brandts invited Papa. He said yes. Who cares? We won’t stay that long. We’ll go back to my house. No one will be there.” He backed out of the driveway and shifted into drive.
“You always want to be alone.”
“Yeah, well, how much fun do you think we’re gonna have at Peter Brandt’s house? I hate that kid. He’s so rude. Every time I see him, I wanna punch him.”
She sighed, her breath making a cloud in the cold air. “You’re sooo not nice.”
He grinned, satisfied with her reply.
When they reached the Brandts’, he pulled into the two-car driveway and parked beside the Summers’ van.
“I’m glad Caitlyn’s here,” Zoe said.
“You’re pretty close to her, huh?”
She nodded, staring placidly at the front door.
“You don’t tell her everything, do you?” He shoved his keys into his jacket pocket.
“She’s my best friend.”
“So, you don’t have to tell her everything. I don’t even tell Keefe everything.” He still hadn’t decided if he wanted Keefe to know how intimate he and Zoe were.
“What don’t you want me to tell her?” The look in her eyes showed annoyance and amusement.
“Well, you sure the heck didn’t tell her you were pregnant, did you? I mean now that we’re past that . . . There’s no reason for anyone to know. Right?”
She pressed her lips together, turned away, and gave a little headshake. “Jarret, now might not be the best time to tell you, but we’re not really past that.”
“Sure we are. I’m not gonna make that mistake again. Haven’t I been careful?”
She huffed, still not facing him.
“Well, haven’t I?” Realizing his teeth were clenched, he took a deep breath and tried to relax. She was probably just toying with him. She had a way of doing that.
“Jarret.” She faced him, a hard look in her eyes. “I’m still pregnant. I didn’t get the abortion, and I’m not going to.”
Unable to move, he stared at her hard eyes.
I’m still pregnant . . . didn’t get the abortion . . . not going to . . . pregnant . . . pregnant . . . He saw her saying it in his mind, over and over.
Every muscle in his body tensed. It couldn’t be true. His hands curled up into fists. It was true.
He slammed the steering wheel one, two, three times, a harsh curse word ripping out each time. Then he turned and punched the back of his seat. A deep groan came from somewhere inside, then he sat still.
“Are you kidding me? You said— I mean, what were you doing when you stopped seeing me? I thought you— Didn’t you say— Look, we talked about this. There’s no other way. You’re not doing this. You’re not doing this to me.”
He couldn’t make himself look at her. She had betrayed him. “Get out of the car.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“I don’t want to be at the Brandts’ if you’re not going to be here. Take me home.”
“You’re not going to wanna be here if I am here.” He looked at her with disgust.
Her eyes held the same look. Then a tear welled up and rolled down her cheek. First one. Then another. They traced a path down her face, taking some of her mascara with them.
He swooned inside. Hating how her sadness weakened him, he turned away. “Just get out, will ya?”
“Are we . . . through?” Her voice wavered.
His chest tightened. Why was she doing this? Didn’t she care what he wanted? Didn’t she love him? Did he love her? He didn’t want her to leave. He didn’t want to see her walking away from him. She filled a void no one else could.
She cracked open her door. “Goodbye, then.”
He didn’t watch her get out. Didn’t watch her close the door. He would’ve slammed it, but she only shut it. He caught a glimpse of her as she walked around his car, then he allowed himself look.
Hands in her coat pockets and head down, she walked in her high-heeled boots through the Brandts’ front lawn, headed for home. She’d have to walk in the street or in grass for over a mile. There weren’t any sidewalks in this part of town.
Jarret jumped out of the car. “Hey!”
She stopped.
“Hey!”
She turned to him.
He nodded for her to come back but she only stared. Maybe he was making a mistake, but he jogged to her.
The nearer he got, the softer her expression became until she was blinking back tears. She threw her arms around his neck.
He pulled her to himself. “Don’t leave me,” he said. “I need you. I-I-I . . .” His mouth had gone dry.
“Zoe, I think I love you.”
LOUD TALKING AND LAUGHTER rang out in the Brandts’ house, creating a mood that rubbed Jarret raw. The women hung out in the kitchen, clanking dishes and pans, the men in the dining room, commenting on food and football. Caitlyn sat alone in a booth, her back to the door. Peter, Keefe, and Roland must’ve been upstairs. The little kids shrieked and played in the living room, all except for Toby, who zipped around the place bugging one person after another with repetitive questions.
Watching everything but not wanting to join anyone, Jarret stood in the middle of the living room waiting for Zoe to get out of the bathroom.
