She led me back to the front door. In the distance, the first rumblings of thunder could be heard. As we stood in the doorway, I drew her near.
“There’s going to be a porch, too,” she said, “with enough room for a couple of rocking chairs, or even a swing. They’ll be able to sit out here on summer nights, and congregate here after church.” She pointed. “That’s their church right over there. That’s why this location is so perfect for them.”
“You sound like you really got to know them.”
“No, not really,” she said. “I talked to them a little bit, but I’m just guessing about all this. I’ve done that with every house I’ve helped to build—I walk through and try to imagine what the owners’ lives will be like. It makes working on the house a lot more fun.”
The moon was now hidden by clouds, darkening the sky. On the horizon, lightning flashed, and a moment later a soft rain began to fall, pattering against the roof. The oak trees lining the street, heavy with leaves, rustled in the breeze as thunder echoed through the house.
“If you want to go, we should probably leave before the storm hits.”
“We don’t have anywhere to go, remember? Besides, I’ve always loved thunderstorms.”
I pulled her closer, breathing in her scent. Her hair smelled sweet, like ripe strawberries.
As we watched, the rain intensified into a steady downpour, falling diagonally from the sky. Streetlamps provided the only light, casting half of Savannah’s face in shadow.
Thunder exploded overhead, and the rain began coming down in sheets. I could see the rain blowing onto the sawdust-covered floor, forming wide puddles in the dirt, and I was thankful that despite the rain, the temperature was warm. Off to the side, I spotted some empty crates. I left her side to collect them, then began to stack them into a makeshift seat. It wouldn’t be all that comfortable, but it would be better than standing.
As Savannah took a seat next to me, I suddenly knew that coming here had been the right thing to do. It was the first time we’d really been alone, but as we sat side by side, it felt as though we’d been together forever.
Eight
The crates, hard and unforgiving, made me question my wisdom, but Savannah didn’t seem to mind. Or pretended not to. She leaned back, felt the edge of the rear crate press into her skin, then sat up again.
“Sorry,” I said, “I thought it would be more comfortable.”
“It’s okay. My legs are exhausted and my feet hurt. This is perfect.”
Yes, I thought, it was. I thought back to nights on guard duty, when I’d imagine sitting beside the girl of my dreams and feeling all was right with the world. I knew now what I’d been missing all these years. When I felt Savannah rest her head on my shoulder, I found myself wishing I hadn’t joined the army. I wished I weren’t stationed overseas, and I wished I’d chosen a different path in life, one that would have let me remain a part of her world. To be a student at Chapel Hill, to spend part of my summer building houses, to ride horses with her.
“You’re awful quiet,” I heard her say.
“Sorry,” I said. “I was just thinking about tonight.”
“Good things, I hope.”
“Yeah, good things,” I said.
She shifted in her seat, and I felt her leg brush against mine. “Me too. But I was thinking about your dad,” she said. “Has he always been like he was tonight? Kind of shy and glancing away when he talks to people?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Why?”
“Just curious,” she said.
A few feet away, the storm seemed to be reaching its climax as another sheet of rain broke from the clouds. Water poured off all sides of the house like waterfalls. Lightning flashed again, closer this time, and thunder crashed like a cannon. Had there been windows, I imagined they would have rattled in their casings.
Savannah scooted closer, and I put my arm around her. She crossed her legs at the ankles and leaned against me, and I felt as if I could hold her this way forever.
“You’re different from most of the guys I know,” she observed, her voice low and intimate in my ear. “More mature, less… flighty, I guess.”
I smiled, liking what she said. “And don’t forget my crew cut and tattoos.”
“Crew cut, yes. Tattoos… well, they sort of come with the package, but no one’s perfect.”
I nudged her and pretended to be wounded. “Well, had I known how you feel, I wouldn’t have got them.”
“I don’t believe you,” she said, pulling back. “But I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have said that. I was speaking more about how I’d feel about getting one. On you, they do tend to project a certain… image, and I suppose it fits.”
“What image is that?”
She pointed to the tattoos, one by one, starting with the Chinese character. “This one tells me that you live life by your own rules and don’t always care what people think. The infantry one shows that you’re proud of what you do. And the barbed wire… well, that goes with who you were when you were younger.”
“That’s quite the psychological profile. Here I thought it was just that I liked the designs.”
“I’m thinking about getting a minor in psychology.”
“I think you already have one.”
Though the wind had picked up, the rain finally began to slow.
“Have you ever been in love?” she asked, switching gears suddenly.
Her question surprised me. “That came out of the blue.”
“I’ve been told that being unpredictable adds to the mysteriousness of women.”
“Oh, it does. But to answer your question, I don’t know.”
“How can you not know?”
I hesitated, trying to think of what to say. “I dated a girl a few years back, and at the time, I knew I was in love. At least, that’s what I’d told myself. But now, when I think back, I’m just… not sure anymore. I cared about her and I enjoyed spending time with her, but when we weren’t together, I barely thought about her. We were together, but we weren’t a couple, if that makes any sense.”
She considered my answer but said nothing. In time, I turned toward her. “How about you? Have you ever been in love?”
Her face clouded. “No,” she said.
“But you thought you were. Like me, right?” When she inhaled sharply, I went on. “In my squad, I have to use a bit of psychology, too. And my instincts tell me there was a serious boyfriend in your past.”
She smiled, but there was something sad in it. “I knew you’d figure it out,” she said in a subdued voice. “But to answer your question, yes, there was. During my freshman year in college. And yes, I did think I loved him.”
“Are you sure you didn’t love him?”
It took her a long time to answer. “No,” she murmured. “I’m not.”
I stared at her. “You don’t have to tell me—”
“It’s okay,” she said, raising her hand to cut me off. “But it’s hard. I’ve tried to forget about it, and it’s something that I’ve never even told my parents. Or anyone, for that matter. It’s such a cliché, you know? Small-town girl goes off to college and meets a handsome senior, who’s also president of his fraternity. He’s popular and rich and charming, and the little freshman is awed that he could be interested in someone like her. He treats her like she’s special, and she knows that other freshman girls are jealous, so she begins to feel special, too. She agrees to go to the winter formal at one of these fancy out-of-town hotels with him and some other couples, even though she’s been warned that the guy isn’t as kind or sensitive as he appears to be, and that in reality, he’s the kind of boy who carves notches in his bed frame for every girl he’s had.”
She closed her eyes, as if summoning the energy to continue. “She goes against the better judgment of her friends, and even though she doesn’t drink and he happily brings her a soda, she starts getting woozy anyway, and he offers to take her back to the hotel room so she can lie down. And the next thing she knows, they’re on the bed kissing, and she likes it at first, but the room is really spinning, and it doesn’t occur to her until later that maybe someone—maybe him—put something in her drink and that carving another notch with her name on it had been his goal all along.”