Page 112 of Love in Riverbend
Jill sits back against the window and pretends to fan herself. Marilyn’s head is shaking.
“I thought you never liked Ricky’s friends,” my roommate says.
“I didn’t like the way they picked on me. They always made me feel like a tagalong kid even when I was older.” I think back and grin. “And honestly, I always thought Justin was kind of a…grumpy know-it-all.”
“Apparently, he was hiding his secret sexy side from you,” Jill says with one raised eyebrow.
“From all of us,” Marilyn adds.
I sit taller, the small hairs on the back of my neck standing to attention as I turn my focus toward her. “You don’t like him?”
“I obviously don’t know him.” She quickly changes her tone. “But, honey, if you’re this excited, I’m happy for you.”
“And a bit nervous,” Jill says. “Seriously, Justin wanted your name and number. I bet ten dollars he tells Ricky about the woman he met.”
“BK,” Marilyn says with a whimsical melody to her voice.
Jill’s eyes widen. “Can you imagine when the pieces fall into place?”
The elation I was feeling only seconds earlier turns into something more akin to dread. “You’re right.” I inhale. “Let’s leave Riverbend tonight. We can all go to Todd’s place in Indy or back to Muncie. I’ll call Mr. Sams tomorrow and tell him I’m a no for the job. It’s official. I can never show my face in Riverbend again.”
Jill laughs. “That’s a bit drastic.”
“Yeah,” Marilyn says, “I’m glad Devan’s not dramatic or anything.”
The clock in the dashboard catches my attention. “It’s just ten o’clock, and I made you both leave the party. I’m sorry I’m lame.”
“Not lame,” Marilyn says as she starts the car. “The hog roast was okay but not great. It was starting to break up anyway. I say we go to Bob’s or Decoy Ducks.”
Those are the two bars in Riverbend. Neither is as nice as big-city bars. They are more authentic as they probably have been for decades. Imagine wood paneling, neon signs with different beer slogans, pool tables, and of course, sticky floors. That said, they both are packed on the weekends.
“I’ll go back to Marilyn’s,” I volunteer. “You two go out.”
“Not happening,” Jill says. “I have an idea.”
After a stop at Marilyn’s house to change out of my muddy jeans and get a new sweatshirt, and another stop at the liquor store—the only way to get cold seltzers in Indiana—we find ourselves back on the same dark road where we met an hour ago. “Is this crazy?” I ask with a giggle.
Our plan is to sneak back on the Gordon farm, climb into the hayloft, drink berry seltzers, and reminisce. The great thing about that hayloft is how there’s an open area in the roof. We can watch the stars and stay warm, away from the cool breeze.
The party should be about over. It’s past eleven, and too late for all the families with children. The older people will be home by now, watching the local news station. There may be a few stragglers. However, if we’re quiet, we shouldn’t be seen or heard.
The side of the barn facing the direction of the pond has a door that goes straight into the higher loft. From the other side of the barn, where all the festivities were, no one will ever see us.
“I’m more visible,” I say as we climb the hill to the place where I left Justin.
“What do you mean?” Jill asks.
“My hoodie is red. Both of yours are black.”
“Stay quiet,” Marilyn scolds, “and no one will see us.”
As we reach the precipice of the ridge between the pond and the Gordons’ barn, we all stop. We’re too far away to distinguish faces. Nevertheless, there are multiple figures standing near the simmering remains of the bonfire.
My mouth goes dry as I study each body shape. I’m no expert after only one kiss, but I’d bet my first paycheck that one of those people is Justin. The blood drains to my feet as I imagine another to be Ricky.
“Devan,” Marilyn whispers as she slows and reaches for my elbow. “Are you all right?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think this is a good idea.” I jut my chin toward the fire below. “I’m pretty sure one of those people is Ricky, and if I’m right, there’s a good chance another one is Justin.”
