Page 9 of The Summer of ’98

During the journey home, he drove us in a black 1996 Mercedes-Benz. The seats were made of soft leather and the ride was smooth. Our pickup back home was reliable, but she was old, that’s for sure. I’d never been in such a new vehicle. But still, as exciting as that was, nothing could compare to the butterflies that I felt when Leroy’s hand held mine. We spent the two-hour journey talking. We never exhausted topics, and every time he turned to smile at me, my heart would flutter, threatening to fly right out of my chest. Compared to home, Colorado—or what I was seeing of it—was a lot of vast space, and the Rockies were every bit as stunning as I thought they’d be. There were large meadows, small plants, shrubs, and scattered trees. It was so open and a refreshing change from the suburban city that I was used to.

Leroy’s home was at the top of a hill, surrounded by big Douglas and white fir trees, no doubt it would have been gorgeous in the winter, the needles coated in snow. Right now, the branches provided decent shade from the sun. The two-story brick mansion faced the street, climbing vines were assisted by trellises, and thick green shrubs lined the path that led from the double driveway to the front door.

We parked in front of the garage and Leroy fetched the luggage from the trunk. I glanced up at him, squinting to avoid the sun that created a halo around his dark-brown locks. His face had the ability to make my heart race and I hoped that Momma was wrong. I hoped that this wasn’t fleeting.

“Ready?” he asked. “They’re going to love you.”

Inside, it was as exquisite as I had imagined. There was a small space in the foyer that was tiled, but after that, a cream carpet lined the corridors and living room, which was down a simple two steps. A staircase in the corridor led upstairs and beyond that was the kitchen.

Leroy dropped my bag beside the staircase and then steered us back into the living room where his parents were sitting within the gloriously air-conditioned house. I felt a little sheepish as the two of them stood up with inspecting gazes.

“Mom, Dad,” his grin was proud, “this is Ellie Livingston.”

“Jacob,” his father outstretched his aged hand with a gentle smile. I could see Leroy in his father’s face. His eyes were blue, though, rather than brown, his shoulders and chest a little wider. But there was a definite likeness.

“I’m Eleanor,” the woman greeted next with a kind and welcoming smile.

“Ha!” Jacob gestured between Eleanor and me. “Ellie . . . Eleanor. Similar names. How’s that going for you, Leroy?”

Leroy grimaced. “Do we have to?”

“It’s obvious that I’m his hero and inspiration for all things in life,” Eleanor gave her shoulder-length greying waves a sassy sweep. “How was your flight, dear?”

“It was awesome,” I said. “I’ve never flown before. I liked it.”

Leroy pulled me closer, his hand resting on the curve of my waist as he leaned down and murmured in a hushed tone, wondering if we should go upstairs. That idea was abruptly interrupted when the sound of footsteps came thudding down the staircase, causing us to turn our attention over our shoulders.

A boy appeared at the entrance to the living room. He had a tall, leaner build and darker hair, but he bore that same mesmerizing attractiveness that his brother did. Leroy had given me a basic rundown on Noah. He was a year younger than Leroy, about to become a senior in high school. He was more business-savvy than athletic, though. He stuffed his hands into his shorts and made no subtleties about running his gaze over me at a slow and deliberate pace. Leroy’s hand tightened around mine and I leaned into him.

“Ellie, this is my brother Noah. Noah, this is Ellie.”

“You’re the girl that has him whipped as hell,” Noah tsked with disappointment. Leroy stiffened beside me.

“Noah, please,” Eleanor scolded her son with a tiresome tone. She smoothed her button-up blouse and politely excused herself to get started on dinner preparations.

“Watch it,” Jacob glared at his youngest son before he followed his wife, leaving the three of us in an awkward silence. It didn’t last long.

“Do we get to share this one?” Noah gestured at me with a devious grin.

“Don’t go there, Noah,” Leroy warned. The brothers differed in height, Noah being taller, but Leroy was built with muscle and he was intimidating, to say the least. “We talked about this. Stop being fucking rude.”

Noah rolled his eyes and shifted his weight, putting a little distance between the two of them. He gave me another once-over. “She’s not good enough for this family,” he muttered before his long legs carried him out of the room.

“Ignore him,” Leroy said. He pressed a soft kiss on the top of my head before he led us back toward the staircase. “He’s salty because he’s got no one to drive him to and from his one-night stands and parties now. He’s been sulking about it for the last month.”

“You don’t have to stop going to parties because of me,” I told him as he picked up the suitcase we’d left before. He shot me a puzzled glance as we made tracks upstairs. “I mean, I wouldn’t stop you from doing that.”

“Would you go with me?”

“Sure,” I said.

“Good. Because I want to show you off.”

Ellie

I followed Leroy upstairs and explored the framed family portraits lining the wall. There were some gorgeous vintage photos of Eleanor as a young woman in tailored suits and slim sheath dresses, capri pants, and Peter Pan-collared blouses.

“Your mom has spectacular style,” I said, pausing on the staircase. Leroy waited a step above me.

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