Chapter Two

Hello my faithful readers! There may be only 3 of you, and I know you all.... But, I refuse to think about that right now. The fact of the matter is that I have faithful readers :) It's not that I don't value you (especially you Mommy). I'll just be really, really excited when I get that first follower I don't know. Wait for the news. It'll come eventually. I hope.

Here is chapter two. Most of this and the first chapter were written while I was in Disney World last year. I finished my first book (Short Skirts and True Love) while at Disney, and addicted as I was to the whole creating thing, I brought my notebook with me and wrote while I was in line. The words got a bit wet from the afternoon rain showers, but I was still able to read my thoughts and type them later on.

In Chapter Two, we learn a little more about Mapleton - the hometown of my childhood. It was and still is really that small. I made the family drive through there last year on the way to vist my husband's mom in Mankato. Everything was still there just as I remember it. My girls were appaled. They're certain I was a deprived child since Mapleton lacks even one fast food restaurant.

Anyway, here you go. Oh, and comment. I like the ideas of comments. It makes me happy.

Chapter 2

“Come on, Mel. Let’s get out of here. Erik’s meeting us at the picnic tables.” I grabbed Melanie’s hand and tried to pull her away from her locker and down the hall. Melanie shook her blond head impatiently and tugged her hand away. She went back to digging in her locker.
The sun was shining for practically the first time since last fall, even though it was almost time for summer vacation, and I wasn’t about to miss a minute of the joyous warmth if I could help it. Winter came early to Minnesota and stayed way later than the calendar said it should, so when the sun was shining and the temperature rose above 60o, it was a genuine cause for celebration.
“I’m trying to find my notes for English. I know they’re in here somewhere. I’m going to need them after lunch. We’re having our last review before tomorrow’s final exam.” Melanie shifted her focus to the bottom of her locker. How the notes would have gotten down there was a mystery to me, but with Melanie, I could see the possibility.
Melanie Carlson has been my best friend since Mom placed me in Mapleton’s small daycare on my second day in Mapleton. She was new to the daycare too, her Mom having recently decided to return to work. I was a year old and used to being with my nanny on Mom’s film set. The nanny had stayed in Los Angeles, and the movie set was gone for good. There were definitely no movie sets in Mapleton! Mom worried about how I’d handle the change – far more drastic than a normal move – so she insisted I enroll. Grandma didn’t exactly approve, she wanted to take care of me herself, but then Grandma hadn’t really ever approved of Mom.
“Ah, ha! Here they are!” Melanie dislodged herself from the recesses of her locker, smiling triumphantly. Somehow her clothing was still perfectly pressed and her ponytail mess free. It made me sick!
I couldn’t figure it out. Melanie was always perfectly put together – I don’t think a wrinkle would dare stay on her, but when it came to her personal space, Melanie had a bit of a problem with neatness. Okay, not a bit of a problem, a huge problem. She was a pig. A beautiful pig, but a pig nonetheless.
“You’re going to need to get your locker cleaned out, Mel. Friday’s the last day of school,” I reminded her. Cleaning her locker would easily take a half-day. It would probably be easier to roll a dumpster up to it and borrow a shovel from the janitor. It’d definitely be faster.
“I know. I know. I’ll do it later,” Melanie grimaced as I pulled her down the hall and out the front door. She hated even the thought of cleaning. I’d probably end up doing it for her, just like I had every year since we were first assigned lockers.
Outside the weather was even nicer than I had hoped. The sun was shining, and the early summer heat felt good after the winter’s frigid temperatures and spring’s nearly as bitter cold. I saw that Erik had already claimed one of the three precious picnic tables. Thank goodness. I worried Mel might cause us to miss getting a spot. Even with the tables reserved for upper classmen and a portion of the students going home for lunch (Yep, they really do. The town’s that small), the tables were sure to be full today.
The school, like the town, is small. Very small. My whole class only has 75 people in it, even now that a fourth town has been added to our school district. I’ve gone to school in the same building since I started Kindergarten. Progressing from elementary school to high school only means attending classes along a different hallway. At least it’s impossible to get lost.
The best part is that I know everyone and everyone knows me. Most of us have played together since before we could talk. There’s a certain comfort in that fact; I can’t imagine living any other way. Since people don’t typically move to Mapleton (or leave for that matter), the town resembles a large dysfunctional family.
“Geez, Kate. What took so long?” Erik reached over to put his arm around my shoulders as soon as I sat down. I kissed him lightly before responding.
“Melanie. She couldn’t find her English notes.” I rolled my eyes in exasperation. Erik would know why.
“You know, Mel, if you just organized a little bit life would be a lot easier.” This was a familiar argument. Mel casually stuck out her tongue and grabbed a candy bar from her purse.
“And if you stopped acting like you’re so perfect, you wouldn’t make me look so bad.” Mel smiled at him, shoving his shoulder softly.
She was right. Erik was a bit too perfect. A girl could easily get a complex being around him too long. Tall and blond with blue eyes sparkling like one of Minnesota’s 10,000 lakes, Erik was beautiful in a very masculine way. While I doubted he’d be asked to model for a teen magazine any day soon, I couldn’t imagine wanting to look at anyone else. He was also smart, funny, affectionate, and, unlike Melanie, organized. I might be bit biased, but, yes, he was too perfect.
I’ve known Erik almost as long as Melanie. His family owns the farm next to Dad’s, and as our closest neighbors, his family frequently visited in the years before Mom and Dad’s divorce. After the divorce, although we saw less of each other, Erik and I stayed friends through school. It wasn’t until this year that I saw him as anything other than the guy I grew up with.
It happened at the Homecoming game. Melanie and I were sitting up in the stands during the football game as we had every fall Friday night since we could remember. Erik was out on the field, along with practically every other guy in the Junior and Senior class. With a limited student population, even if you sucked at sports, you were pretty much guaranteed some playing time. Most of the guys played at least one sport, and many played all three major sports: football, basketball, and baseball. It was required to make sure there were enough people to field a team.
The lightning bolt hit right before halftime. Erik came jogging off the field, his tight football pants hugging his slim thighs, and yanked off his helmet. His hair was rumpled and slightly damp. I watched as he reached up and ran his hands through it, trying to shove the unruly curls out of his eyes. He must have felt me staring because he looked up into the stands and met my eyes. Time stopped. I’m not sure how long we stayed like that, locked in a moment of sudden deep awareness, but we only looked away when Erik’s best friend, John Peterson, jogged over and started speaking to him.
After the game, Melanie and I went to my house to change for the Homecoming dance. There are no fancy dresses at Mapleton’s Homecoming dance, just a better pair of jeans and a nicer top - we do things a little less formal than kids in the big cities. However, that doesn’t mean a lot of preparation doesn’t go into getting ready for the dance. By the time we finished our primping and made our way up to the school, the dance was already in full swing.
I didn’t say anything to Melanie about my “moment” with Erik. I was a little embarrassed and horribly nervous about seeing him again. It was an unusual feeling for me. I mean - I’d known him almost forever. How could I suddenly be nervous around him? It was a bit ridiculous.
It took all of five minutes for Erik to find me. Even with practically the entire high school present, there weren’t that many people for him to search through. He seemed nervous too as he asked me to dance, and I responded with a shy yes. We danced that first dance, stiff at first but clinging to each other by the end. The awareness that had started at the game continued and intensified. It was an all-encompassing magical feeling.
We didn’t leave each other’s arms the rest of the night. The whole school watched as Erik and I danced one dance after another, holding hands whenever we left the floor. Melanie watched us in amazement, but, for some reason, she didn’t seem all that surprised.
He drove me home that night, kissing me softly, almost conventionally, at my front door. A single kiss. I practically floated as I opened the door and walked into my living room, watching the shine of his headlights bounce off the cornfield at the end of the street as he drove away.
We’ve been together ever since.
“You’re both coming over to study tonight?” I said. They nodded. It wasn’t actually a question. More of an acknowledgement. They were over most nights.
“I’ve got to go to the shop after school for a bit. Mom needs some help. I’ll see you after that.” Mom expected me to help out most days after school. I was usually exempt during finals, but since Mom’s assistant was sick, I’d been conscripted into service. Not that I minded. The dress shop was sort of fun.
After Mom and Dad divorced and we had moved into town, Mom tried the stay at home, PTA parent thing for a while. It wasn’t like she needed to work. She had earned enough during her years acting to live comfortably in Mapleton for several lifetimes. She didn’t last long before boredom nearly drove her crazy.
Before Dad, Mom had lived the hectic life of a superstar. On the farm, she’d been busy helping Dad, but that was all gone now. What exactly did an ex-movie star do for a living in a town the size of Mapleton? She eventually settled on using her innate sense of style to improve the definitely more rural style of the town’s female population (can I just say the’80s had never really left Mapleton??). Ten years later, her shop “Chic” was more popular than she ever expected.
The afternoon passed in a flurry of preparation for final exams. The teachers seemed intent on shoving as much knowledge as possible into our heads before the end of the day. Final exams started tomorrow. Four days of exam, and then we were done. Summer would be here. An entire three months of freedom. Three months to spend with Erik, Melanie, and all the rest of my friends. Three months until I started my Senior year of school. Three months of sun, warmth, and the bright blue Minnesota skies.
As I walked the couple of blocks to Chic, my head buzzed with the brain-dumped knowledge of the school’s teaching staff. It’d be a relief to let it all go for a few hours of mindless menial labor.
The bell rang as I opened the door and walked into the perfumed confines of Chic. Beautiful clothing elegantly filled the small space as Top 40 music played from speakers concealed in the ceiling. Mom stood with a customer at the counter. “Thank you, Mrs. Johnson.” She smiled at the older lady, folding her purchases and placing them in a large shopping bag. The smile that had once made her the most popular actress in Hollywood spread to her eyes as she handed the bag across the counter.
Mom is the most impossibly beautiful person I have ever seen. Her long chestnut brown hair falls softly around her shoulders with no hint of wave or curl. Violet eyes are framed by long lashes and arched eyebrows that move expressively, conveying the emotion behind her words as she speaks. Her tall, thin body has curves in all the right places, enough to be dramatic but not enough to look artificial.
But her beauty comes from more than just her appearance. It comes from the way she looks at you like you are the most important person in the world. You would think she would seem intimidating, but Mom somehow always manages to make people feel comfortable and relaxed. She is amazing, and I ache to be just like her.
I don’t look a thing like her. Even though Mom and I have the same color hair, where her hair hangs long and straight, mine waves annoyingly. My eyes are a genetic anomaly, a dark brown that almost matches my hair. Against my olive skin, they are just too matchy-matchy and lack the dramatic impact of Mom’s violet or Dad’s bright blue. In any other family, I would have been considered attractive, but when compared to Mom (and Dad for that matter), I am pretty plain. At least I have most of her curves, even if my legs aren’t quite as long or well shaped.
“Mom, I’m here,” I called as Mrs. Johnson exited the store. I ran up and gave her a huge hug. I loved my Mom more than anything in the world.
“Hey, baby. How was school?” She squeezed me back. I was pretty sure she loved me more than anything in the world too. Mom had never remarried, and we were each other’s entire world. Not that I didn’t love Dad, but Mom and I were just something special.
“Good. Long. I can’t wait for summer.” I plopped down on one of the soft couches that had been placed near the counter for the occasional husband dragged into the distinctly female confines of Chic.
“I can’t wait either. It’ll be fun having you around here. I miss you during the school year.” She elegantly sat down beside me; the store was momentarily empty of customers. I doubt Mom could have plopped even if she wanted to. Well, she was an actress, so maybe she could have, but it just wasn’t in her nature.
“It will definitely be fun.” I said. Mom made everything fun. Not to mention I would get to play with beautiful clothing all summer. It was like one long session of dress-up. I didn’t envy my classmates who would be working “walking beans” (pulling weeds from between the rows of growing soybeans) or at some fast food restaurant in neighboring Mankato. Compared to them (or most people for that matter), I had it made.
“Kate, your Dad called earlier. He was wondering if you could come out this afternoon. He needs someone to watch the baby.” She looked at me closely, watching my reaction.
Dad, unlike Mom, had remarried two years ago. Although his new wife, Laura, was short and plain, she was pleasant enough. I couldn’t imagine how she appealed to Dad but to each his own. To my horror, Laura had given birth to a short, plain baby boy last month. Not even remotely cute, my new little brother (EEEEK!!) wasn’t even slightly appealing. Dad and Laura seemed to think he was perfect, but I just couldn’t see it. How could anyone like a screeching miniature blob that usually smelled of some disgusting mix of puke and poop? Bluckkk!!!
“I’m sure you told him you needed me here?” My tone was hopeful.
“Kate, go help your Dad. Laura has to go to a follow-up appointment in Mankato. He needs you.” So much for loving me best! She’d thrown me under the figurative bus!!
“Mom, that little creature is gross! Plus you need me here.” The emptiness of the store mocked my words.
“Kathryn Raquel Swanson. That “creature” is your brother, and he has a name. Matthew.”
Uh Oh! My whole name. I was in trouble.
“I’ll somehow survive without you today. Take my car, and I’ll walk home,” she continued.
Well at least there was one positive out of the afternoon. Mom rarely let me drive her cute little sports car. It was the one indulgence she refused to live without, but she believed it was too ostentatious for a sixteen year old. Driving it usually required days of begging. She must have been feeling guilty about making me watch Matthew.
“Fine. Just don’t complain when I have to take an hour-long shower when I get home. It’ll take that long to get the baby slime off of me.” I stalked out of the store, leaving the elegantly perfumed air behind and heading for something “perfumed” in a far less pleasant manner.
The drive wasn’t nearly long enough, although, against my will, I was looking forward to seeing Dad. I’d been avoiding the farm ever since the baby came home and missed him more than I anticipated. I suppose it’s natural I would be closer to Mom, but Dad is special too. He was steady and patient with an air of permanence about him. I knew he’d always be there for me, solidly planted in his wide, green fields of soybean. Where Mom was a bright shining star in my sky, Dad was the bedrock of my existence. I just usually forgot how much I loved him until I was with him again.
Dad stood on the porch of the farmhouse he’d grown up in, waiting for me with a big expectant smile. Mom must have called to let him know I was on my way.
After Mom and I left following the divorce, Dad had moved out of the new house and back into the old farmhouse with Grandma. The new house and a small bit of the property around it was sold off, and Dad’s life returned to where it had started as a child, simply with a little bit of extra baggage living in town, treasured baggage but baggage just the same.
Grandma was happy to have him – she’d never approved of the new house, and Dad was happy to be there. Change was to be avoided in her mind, and the return to her view of “normality” was more than welcome. Dad was devastated when Grandma died several years ago. That was right before he met and married Laura.
“Kate! How you doing, honey?” The smile was still on his face, but I could see a hint of worry behind his eyes. He was obviously aware of my vague (okay, maybe pronounced is the more honest word) dislike of Matthew. I suddenly felt horrible. It was a lot easier to be disapproving when my Dad was several miles away.
I stood on my tiptoes and gave him an uncharacteristic kiss on the cheek. Dad and I weren’t exactly demonstrative in our affection. Exuberance and out right display of emotion were non-Minnesotan.
“I’m great, Dad. School’s almost out, and I have the whole summer ahead of me.” I could see his eyes light up, and a plan start to form.
“I’ll be helping Mom all summer at the shop. Summer is her busiest time, you know,” I hurriedly added before he could suggest I spend my summer watching the amazing pooping monster he called my brother. I’d rather be dipped in hot oil and set out in the soybean fields to bake.
Disappointment lit his eyes. “Oh, that’s right. The shop.”
I looked away before he could use his persuasive blue eyes to make me feel too guilty. I know he doesn’t mean to make me feel guilty, but he usually does. I suppose every child of divorced parents goes through similar guilt. How do you help but love one more than another? Dad has always been there, even though I don’t live with him. He taught me to ride my bike. He came to every school program and parent teacher conference. He joined the PTA. He was there for every Christmas morning, Easter Sunday, and Thanksgiving turkey-eating binge. I never missed out on anything, and yet, I was always aware Mom was just a little more important to me than Dad.
“Where’s the baby?” I couldn’t hear Matthew’s trademark screeching cry.
“Asleep inside. Laura fed him just before she left, so he should be out for awhile,” Dad said.
There was a God.
Dad stayed with me – so much for needing me to watch the baby – while Matthew slept. I studied half-heartedly while we caught up. He asked about Erik and Melanie and our plans for the summer. I talked about the colleges I was applying to and my Senior year. We discussed all the important goings on in town; how Mrs. Thompson’s dog had disappeared last week and how the grocery store had added take-n-bake pizza to the deli offerings. All minor things in a big town, they counted as big news for Mapleton.
He told me how his crops were growing and about his plans to buy a new tractor. I was shown picture after picture of Matthew – looking cute (As if…), sleeping, smiling for the first time, and even some disgusting naked baby in a tub pictures. And we laughed. A lot. It was like old times – the days before Laura and Matthew when it was only Kate and Dad.
By the time Laura got home, we’d talked ourselves out and were sitting in comfortable silence watching TV. The creature had remarkably slept though my entire visit. I said a quick hello to Laura and moved towards the front door, eager to escape, just as Matthew’s signature screech announced his desire to get out of his crib.
“Do you want to stay for dinner, Kate,” Laura offered.
“No, thank you. I’ve got to get home to study. Maybe next time,” I said. More like “Hell No!”, but it never hurt to be polite, especially when everything had turned out so well. I was able to spend some much needed quality time with my Dad, and I didn’t have to spend quality time with the screaming monster. Perfect!
Timing. Mom always said it was all about timing. Maybe I was more like her than I knew. I smiled to myself at the thought. Nah… Just lucky. But, as Mom’s sports car raced down the dirt road, taking me back to my little house, beautiful Mom, and best friends, I knew that so far luck had been enough.

© 2008 - 2009 Elizabeth Johnson