Dear John(28)

“How was dinner?”

“It was great,” Savannah said. “I got a taste of local culture. We went to the Shrimp Shack.”

“Sounds like fun,” he commented.

I strained to detect any undercurrent of jealousy but found none. Tim motioned over his shoulder and went on. “Do you two want to join us? We’re just winding down, getting ready for tomorrow.”

“Actually, I’m a bit sleepy. I was just going to walk John to his car, and after that I’ll turn in. What time do we need to be up?”

“Six. We’ll have breakfast and be at the site tomorrow by seven-thirty. Don’t forget your sunscreen. We’ll be out in the sun all day.”

“I’ll remember. You should remind everyone else.”

“I have,” he said. “And I’ll do it again tomorrow. But you just wait—some folks won’t listen and they’ll get fried.”

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she said.

“All right.” He turned his attention to me. “I’m glad you came by today.”

“Me too,” I said.

“And listen, if you find yourself bored in the next couple of weeks, we could always use an extra hand.”

I laughed. “I knew it was coming.”

“I am who I am,” he said, holding out his hand. “But either way, I hope to see you again.”

We shook hands. Tim went back to his seat, and Savannah nodded toward the house. We made our way toward the dune, stopped to put our sandals back on, then followed the wooden pathway, through the sea grass, and around the house. A minute later, we were at the car. In the darkness, I couldn’t make out her expression.

“I had a good time tonight,” she said. “And today.”

I swallowed. “When can I see you again?”

It was a simple question, expected even, but I was surprised to hear the desire in my tone. I hadn’t even kissed her yet.

“I suppose,” she said, “that depends on you. You know where I am.”

“How about tomorrow night?” I blurted out. “I know of another place that has a band, and it’s a lot of fun.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “How about the night after? Would that be okay? It’s just that the first day at the site is always . . . exciting and tiring at the same time. We have a big group dinner, and I really shouldn’t miss it.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” I said, thinking it wasn’t fine at all.

She must have heard something in my voice. “Like Tim said, you’re welcome to come by if you’d like.”

“No, that’s okay. Tuesday night’s fine.”

We continued to stand there, one of those awkward moments I’ll probably never get used to, but she turned away before I could attempt a kiss. Normally, I would have plunged ahead just to see what happened; I may not have been open about my feelings, but I was impulsive and quick to action. With Savannah, I felt oddly paralyzed. She didn’t appear to be in any hurry, either.

A car passed by, breaking the spell. She took a step toward the house, then stopped and put her hand on my arm. In an innocent gesture, she kissed me on the cheek. It was almost sisterly, but her lips were soft and the scent of her engulfed me, lingering even after she pulled back.

“I really did have a good time,” she murmured. “I don’t think I’ll forget about today for a long, long time.”

I felt her hand leave my arm, and then in a whisper she vanished, retreating up the stairs of the house.

At home later that night, I found myself tossing and turning in bed, reliving the events of the day. Finally I sat up, wishing I had told her how much our day had meant to me. Outside my window, I saw a shooting star cross the sky in a brilliant streak of white. I wanted to believe it was an omen, though of what, I wasn’t sure. Instead, all I could do was replay Savannah’s gentle kiss on my cheek for the hundredth time and wonder how I could be falling for a girl that I’d met only the day before.





Five




Mornin’, Dad,” I said, staggering into the kitchen. I squinted in the bright morning light and saw my dad standing in front of the stove. The smell of bacon filled the air.

“Oh . . . hi, John.”

I plopped myself on the chair, still trying to wake up. “Yeah, I know I’m up early, but I wanted to catch you before you headed off to work.”

“Oh,” he said. “Okay. Let me just get a bit more food going.”

He seemed almost excited, despite this wrinkle in the routine. It was times like these that let me know he was glad I was home.

“Is there any coffee?” I asked.

“It’s in the pot,” he said.