“I am,” I said.
He hesitated. “If we could figure out a way,” he said slowly, “would you consider marrying me?”
I was both stunned and thrilled, but I felt the real world trying to work its way into the tree house. I wouldn’t let it. “Yes,” I said. “But I don’t think we could stay here. In Derby County.”
“I don’t think we could stay in the South at all,” he said. “Not safely. We’d have to go north. Or west.”
“What about your family?” I felt so distant from mine, except for Buddy. It would take time, I thought, but Buddy would come around. He wouldn’t want to lose me, no matter what I did—or who I married.
“I don’t know about my parents,” he said. “Not sure how they’d react. Most important, though, I’d have to find a way to take care of my sister.”
“Yes,” I agreed. I knew how much he adored his handicapped sister. “And I don’t want to give up my dream of being a pharmacist. I love that mixture of magic and science.”
That made him chuckle. “I love your brain,” he said.
I laughed happily. “That’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”
He squeezed my shoulder. “There’s more where that came from.” I knew he was smiling.
“And your dream of being a teacher,” I said. “You can’t lose that. So we’d have to go someplace where we could continue going to school.”
“School part time,” he said. “We’d have to work to keep a roof over our heads.”
“Right.” I couldn’t believe we were talking about this. Maybe it could really happen. A tremor of joy passed through me at the possibility of a life with him.
It was nearly midnight when we walked together up Hockley Street toward Round Hill Road, where he’d left Paul’s car. We held hands, our flashlights off, letting the moon guide us. I felt a little sore and wistful. I wondered if he was thinking what I was: The only place we could safely hold hands was in darkness. The only place we could be lovers was in hiding. Maybe we could have a future together, but it was distant and complicated. My joy at being so close to him was suddenly marred by my sadness.
As we passed the house, I saw that Buddy’s black truck and our family car, which my father had taken to his poker game, were now in the driveway. I’d expected that, but I hadn’t expected that the kitchen light would be on. Who was up and how would I get into the house and upstairs to my room? I said none of that to Win but he seemed to sense my anxiety, his hand tightening around mine.
“You live in a big ol’ farmhouse,” he said in a whisper.
“Mm.” I knew he’d grown up in the heart of Darville. Different worlds, in too many ways to count. I walked him out to Paul’s car. Round Hill Road was dark. No other cars. No people. I leaned against the sedan and he kissed me good night.
“Thursday night,” he said.
“Thursday night,” I agreed.
* * *
Walking back to my house, I saw the kitchen light reflected off the side of Buddy’s truck in the driveway. I hoped someone had left the light on accidentally. I decided to go in the front door. Maybe no one would notice me and I could slip up the stairs to my room unseen.
I opened the front door. I was so quiet, I couldn’t imagine how anyone could hear me, but as soon as I stepped into the room and shut the door softly behind me, my father’s voice boomed from the kitchen.
“Ellie, get in here.”
I shut my eyes. Took in a breath. Made sure my dress was on right side out. Then I walked into the kitchen.
They were all waiting for me. My mother, father, brother. Mama sat at the table, crying, blotting her tears with a cloth napkin, and for a brief moment, I thought this midnight meeting had nothing to do with me. Had someone died?
“What’s going on?” I asked, already feeling guilty that I hoped this was about some tragedy and not about me.
“Sit down,” Daddy said. It was a command. This was about me, after all.
I sat down at my usual place at the table. I glanced at Buddy, sitting across from me. He just shook his head and looked away.
“You know,” my father said, “we didn’t talk to you about the toll your shenanigans have taken on our good name in this town and maybe we should have, because you don’t seem to have figured out on your own what you’ve cost us.”
“I was only gone for a month,” I protested. “Your good name must have been pretty fragile if you could lose it over me trying to give poor people a say in their government.”