entered the house holding my breath until I could take a good look around.
Everything seemed all right, except that I couldn’t find anyone. Damon’s car was parked out front, but he wasn’t in the house… and neither was Mama!
I ran out the back door and stopped abruptly when I saw her sitting in the gazebo, painting one of her pictures. Damon was high up on a ladder, scraping paint off the siding.
The scene before me was so calm and logical for a moment I couldn’t grasp the meaning. Then I realized that Mama was sitting outside enjoying a pretty evening, content with her picture, and Damon was working on the house just as he’d promised he would.
Everything was just fine.
“Hey!” Damon called when he saw me. He headed down the ladder.
“Magic,” Mama called, “come look at my tiger.”
I stopped to give Damon the kiss he wanted, then went to look at Mama’s picture.
That was when I realized what had actually been bothering me since lunch. And it had nothing, really, to do with the lies he’d told or his father being a murderer.
I felt married.
Damon had a way of making me feel trapped, and after knowing him for only two days. What would life with him be like in a year?
I looked at him and noticed that his chin seemed a little too ridged, and his nose was too long. His eyes were angled way too far outward. Plus, he had a bad habit of licking his bottom lip excessively. Watching him do it was almost sickening.
Jaynie had been right. I couldn’t see this one lasting as long as a month.
CHAPTER FIVE
After supper, we left Mama cozy in her chair in the living room watching TV and went into Gram’s old bedroom - Damon’s room now, which bugged me a little. I could barely remember the last time I’d seen this room look like a bedroom, or seem so large. He must have spent a good two hours cleaning.
He had the bed made with one of Grammy’s old quilts. I wasn’t particularly happy about that, either. I kept her quilts in a cedar chest so they wouldn’t suffer from wear and moths. She had made every one of them herself and very little of her things had survived Mama’s rampages. I often thought, at least I have her quilts.
Damon lifted a bottle of wine from a sack under the bed as covertly as if he’d scored some drugs. “Shut the door,” he whispered.
I did, then walked wide of the bed. The feeling that I was making a mistake with him hadn’t faded, and I felt uncomfortable being alone with him.
“Come over here,” he said.
He sat on the bed, holding a boot box in his lap. I sat on the bed, putting my crossed legs between us. “What’s that?”
Damon took a deep breath as if struggling with his patience. “I’ll tell you what’s in the box if you’ll tell me what’s going on.” His tone was serious.
“What do you mean?”
He glanced at me with a wounded expression. “You don’t like me anymore. I can see it in your eyes.”
I’d been thinking all evening how to bring up the new information I’d learned, but I was worried about his reaction. I didn’t know him very well. Certainly not well enough to predict how he would react if I told him I knew his father had murdered his mother. That his father was in a psychiatric prison of some sort, not just a hospital. That his grandmother had committed suicide. Or even that he’d been lying about his real name.
I decided to play it safe. I didn’t want to end up like his mother.
“I can’t go to Knoxville,” I told him. “Chester said I have to work.”
“Yeah, okay,” he said, frowning at me. “But that’s not it. It’s something else. I can feel it.”
I fell back on the mattress with a groan and stared at the molded ceiling. I’d never noticed that the ceiling in here was different from the rest of the house. The room must have been added on after the original house was built.
Damon’s distorted face blocked my view. He was waiting for an answer.
“It just seems like everything in my life
Everything seemed all right, except that I couldn’t find anyone. Damon’s car was parked out front, but he wasn’t in the house… and neither was Mama!
I ran out the back door and stopped abruptly when I saw her sitting in the gazebo, painting one of her pictures. Damon was high up on a ladder, scraping paint off the siding.
The scene before me was so calm and logical for a moment I couldn’t grasp the meaning. Then I realized that Mama was sitting outside enjoying a pretty evening, content with her picture, and Damon was working on the house just as he’d promised he would.
Everything was just fine.
“Hey!” Damon called when he saw me. He headed down the ladder.
“Magic,” Mama called, “come look at my tiger.”
I stopped to give Damon the kiss he wanted, then went to look at Mama’s picture.
That was when I realized what had actually been bothering me since lunch. And it had nothing, really, to do with the lies he’d told or his father being a murderer.
I felt married.
Damon had a way of making me feel trapped, and after knowing him for only two days. What would life with him be like in a year?
I looked at him and noticed that his chin seemed a little too ridged, and his nose was too long. His eyes were angled way too far outward. Plus, he had a bad habit of licking his bottom lip excessively. Watching him do it was almost sickening.
Jaynie had been right. I couldn’t see this one lasting as long as a month.
CHAPTER FIVE
After supper, we left Mama cozy in her chair in the living room watching TV and went into Gram’s old bedroom - Damon’s room now, which bugged me a little. I could barely remember the last time I’d seen this room look like a bedroom, or seem so large. He must have spent a good two hours cleaning.
He had the bed made with one of Grammy’s old quilts. I wasn’t particularly happy about that, either. I kept her quilts in a cedar chest so they wouldn’t suffer from wear and moths. She had made every one of them herself and very little of her things had survived Mama’s rampages. I often thought, at least I have her quilts.
Damon lifted a bottle of wine from a sack under the bed as covertly as if he’d scored some drugs. “Shut the door,” he whispered.
I did, then walked wide of the bed. The feeling that I was making a mistake with him hadn’t faded, and I felt uncomfortable being alone with him.
“Come over here,” he said.
He sat on the bed, holding a boot box in his lap. I sat on the bed, putting my crossed legs between us. “What’s that?”
Damon took a deep breath as if struggling with his patience. “I’ll tell you what’s in the box if you’ll tell me what’s going on.” His tone was serious.
“What do you mean?”
He glanced at me with a wounded expression. “You don’t like me anymore. I can see it in your eyes.”
I’d been thinking all evening how to bring up the new information I’d learned, but I was worried about his reaction. I didn’t know him very well. Certainly not well enough to predict how he would react if I told him I knew his father had murdered his mother. That his father was in a psychiatric prison of some sort, not just a hospital. That his grandmother had committed suicide. Or even that he’d been lying about his real name.
I decided to play it safe. I didn’t want to end up like his mother.
“I can’t go to Knoxville,” I told him. “Chester said I have to work.”
“Yeah, okay,” he said, frowning at me. “But that’s not it. It’s something else. I can feel it.”
I fell back on the mattress with a groan and stared at the molded ceiling. I’d never noticed that the ceiling in here was different from the rest of the house. The room must have been added on after the original house was built.
Damon’s distorted face blocked my view. He was waiting for an answer.
“It just seems like everything in my life
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