Read Online Club Storyville by Riley Lashea - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Riley Lashea
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, Literature & Fiction, Historical Romance, Gay & Lesbian, Genre Fiction, New Adult & College, Lesbian, Lesbian Romance
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keep my laughter at his jokes at just the right level, so Jackson would think I thought he was funny, but Ariel wouldn’t hear me thinking Jackson was funny.
I knew I shouldn’t worry about her, about what she thought, that I should let Ariel hear me laughing at Jackson, let her believe I wanted be laughing with him, but Jackson wasn’t the person I wanted to be giving so much of my time, and I did worry.
Even when he left, though, Jackson wasn’t gone completely. He didn’t wait to start sending letters. When he called Scott to let him know he made it safely to Charleston, he wanted to talk to me. For half an hour I listened to him go on about spring flowers on the side of the roads and the trees of West Virginia.
He asked if I’d ever been there.
“Once,” I told him. “When I was a little girl.”
“You should see it here, Lizzie,” he said, and I wondered when he’d decided he had the right to adopt my brothers’ nickname for me. “It’s a lot like Richmond, but it does have its differences.”
“Maybe I will,” I said, and when the conversation went on, not really saying anything of importance, and saying far more than was being said, I told him it would cost him a fortune, but Jackson said, although he gave most of his money to his folks, he had a little to use as he wanted and he wanted to talk to me.
A few days later, Jackson called again, and again a few days after that. Scott kept teasing, saying Jackson had taken a shine to me. Each time, I would smile and say, ‘No, he hasn’t,’ and my heart would break a little more, because the fact that things felt different with Ariel made things feel different between Scott and I. I didn’t know if I was lying to him by not telling him, or if he was failing to see me. Either way, though, we didn’t know each other through and through anymore. Scott thought his teasing about Jackson would make me blush and be happy. It made me feel pale and empty.
O n one of his final calls to the house, just before it was time for Scott to board the train to take him to the big boat that would carry him across the Atlantic Ocean, Jackson went mad. At least, he sounded mad to me.
“Will you wait for me?” he asked, but I didn’t know what he expected me to wait for exactly, him to come home from the war to decide if he wanted to make me his wife, or something to heal inside of me so I could want him as my husband.
Insane as it was for him to ask, no one would think Jackson’s question crazy, or even unfair. They would think me crazy, that I should have my feelings for Ariel shocked or frozen away, that I was a horrible blight on my family. There wasn’t a thing wrong with Jackson asking me to put my life on hold for him until he got back from the war, though. No one would ever say, ‘You two barely know each other. You’re a lunatic for wanting someone you don’t even know to wait for you.’
They would think Jackson romantic. They would think it made logical sense. They would think I was the fool, perhaps even a tease, for letting him spend his money talking to me on the phone and then refusing to let him carry my heart thousands of miles away with no idea how long it would be before he brought it back.
“Please, Lizzie,” Jackson said. “I need a reason to make it home. I need to know I have someone waiting for me.”
Closing my eyes at the soft plea, I wished it could sound like Ariel’s voice in my ear.
“I’ll think about it,” I told him, feeling guilty toward Jackson for not immediately saying I would wait, and guilty toward Ariel for not immediately saying I wouldn’t.
H is last night home, Scott found a few bottles of beer in a crate in Nan’s basement, and brought them to the surface to meet their final act.
“Bet they’ve been down there since Prohibition,” he grinned as he wiped the thick casing of dust from the first bottle, glancing toward the door to make sure Mama wasn’t going to catch us.
“Nan,” I shook my head,
I knew I shouldn’t worry about her, about what she thought, that I should let Ariel hear me laughing at Jackson, let her believe I wanted be laughing with him, but Jackson wasn’t the person I wanted to be giving so much of my time, and I did worry.
Even when he left, though, Jackson wasn’t gone completely. He didn’t wait to start sending letters. When he called Scott to let him know he made it safely to Charleston, he wanted to talk to me. For half an hour I listened to him go on about spring flowers on the side of the roads and the trees of West Virginia.
He asked if I’d ever been there.
“Once,” I told him. “When I was a little girl.”
“You should see it here, Lizzie,” he said, and I wondered when he’d decided he had the right to adopt my brothers’ nickname for me. “It’s a lot like Richmond, but it does have its differences.”
“Maybe I will,” I said, and when the conversation went on, not really saying anything of importance, and saying far more than was being said, I told him it would cost him a fortune, but Jackson said, although he gave most of his money to his folks, he had a little to use as he wanted and he wanted to talk to me.
A few days later, Jackson called again, and again a few days after that. Scott kept teasing, saying Jackson had taken a shine to me. Each time, I would smile and say, ‘No, he hasn’t,’ and my heart would break a little more, because the fact that things felt different with Ariel made things feel different between Scott and I. I didn’t know if I was lying to him by not telling him, or if he was failing to see me. Either way, though, we didn’t know each other through and through anymore. Scott thought his teasing about Jackson would make me blush and be happy. It made me feel pale and empty.
O n one of his final calls to the house, just before it was time for Scott to board the train to take him to the big boat that would carry him across the Atlantic Ocean, Jackson went mad. At least, he sounded mad to me.
“Will you wait for me?” he asked, but I didn’t know what he expected me to wait for exactly, him to come home from the war to decide if he wanted to make me his wife, or something to heal inside of me so I could want him as my husband.
Insane as it was for him to ask, no one would think Jackson’s question crazy, or even unfair. They would think me crazy, that I should have my feelings for Ariel shocked or frozen away, that I was a horrible blight on my family. There wasn’t a thing wrong with Jackson asking me to put my life on hold for him until he got back from the war, though. No one would ever say, ‘You two barely know each other. You’re a lunatic for wanting someone you don’t even know to wait for you.’
They would think Jackson romantic. They would think it made logical sense. They would think I was the fool, perhaps even a tease, for letting him spend his money talking to me on the phone and then refusing to let him carry my heart thousands of miles away with no idea how long it would be before he brought it back.
“Please, Lizzie,” Jackson said. “I need a reason to make it home. I need to know I have someone waiting for me.”
Closing my eyes at the soft plea, I wished it could sound like Ariel’s voice in my ear.
“I’ll think about it,” I told him, feeling guilty toward Jackson for not immediately saying I would wait, and guilty toward Ariel for not immediately saying I wouldn’t.
H is last night home, Scott found a few bottles of beer in a crate in Nan’s basement, and brought them to the surface to meet their final act.
“Bet they’ve been down there since Prohibition,” he grinned as he wiped the thick casing of dust from the first bottle, glancing toward the door to make sure Mama wasn’t going to catch us.
“Nan,” I shook my head,
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