She nuzzled her head into Jake’s chest, then pulled up and kissed him softly on the lips. “We have meaning,” she whispered.
After a moment, Jake’s demeanor changed slightly, taking on a more serious tone. “We need to talk about something.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re pregnant,” she said, pulling away in mock horror.
Jake smiled a devilish grin briefly and then turned serious. “I got a call from The Citadel today. They’ve had a cancellation. I’m in if I want it.”
“What!” She pushed away from Jake, an unusual move. Her outstretched fingers reached up and pulled at her hair from either side of her head. Amanda heard the words but was unable to allow them any validity. They’d had this discussion before, and Jake had turned down the academy’s offer. He had never been entirely comfortable with the decision, primarily because he had felt enormous pressure from Amanda not to go, but now it was back on the table. “You can’t be serious!”
“I haven’t made up my—”
“That’s not an option!” She was screaming now. A couple standing on the porch stopped talking and looked in her direction. “We talked about this.”
Jake shook his head and started to close the door to the truck. “Hey, I just wanted you to know.”
“Wait a minute. You can’t just drive off.”
“Then settle down, Amanda. You’re making an ass out of yourself.” Jake was characteristically firm. Eminem’s “Eight Mile” was banging through the walls of the dining room. Someone had obviously turned up the bass, if not the volume. Jake looked over his shoulder. “Gettin’ out of control in there?”
“Quit trying to change the subject, Jake.” She was calmer now, more in control, honestly wanting to discuss the matter. Her resistance to Jake’s going to The Citadel was based on more than well-founded fears of a dreaded long-distance relationship or an ensuing assignment in the Army.
Amanda could not fathom her boyfriend, and hopefully future fiancé, going to a school that would train him in the same profession as her father.
“Is this about your dad?” Again, direct and firm.
Amanda tensed at the mention of the word “dad.”
“I don’t have a dad,” she muttered under her breath.
“That may be, Amanda, but you shouldn’t take it out on me.” Jake stood from the driver’s seat of his pickup and stretched. He was six foot three inches tall, weighed 230 pounds, and he had the best arm in the southern United States. If Jake Devereaux were to show up unannounced on The Citadel’s doorstep in a few days, not only would SEC football scratch its collective head, but the Bulldogs alumni would possibly be heard from the beyond sounding off with a thunderous Yesss!
Amanda stepped toward him, placing her thin hands on his jacket. She slid her arms as far as she could around his chest and laid her head against him.
“I know, baby. I just want you near me.” She spoke quietly into the soft leatherette of his coat.
Jake pulled her closer. “You know I love you, Amanda, and I want us to be together forever. You know that.”
He paused before broaching what he knew was another tough subject.
“And if we are going to be together forever, you need to sort out this thing with your dad.”
Again she flinched. “Let’s not talk about that, okay? There are just three weeks to graduation. My dad has only caused problems in my life. It’s like he never existed except when he was missing child support or threatening my mom, or whatever.”
“Come on. Don’t you think that if those things were really happening, he’d be in jail?”
“That’s where he belongs.” Amanda’s words were quick and decisive. There was no doubt about her sentiment.
“I hear what you’re saying, but I’m here for you. And you can count on me to stand by you. My only request is that we talk to somebody about it, you know?”
Amanda pulled away. “You mean like a shrink?”
“Something like that,” Jake said, less sure this time.
“Get out of here.” Of course, she didn’t mean for him to leave. Rather, she was calling into question the entire foundation of his last comment.
“If we’re going to one day get married, like we’ve talked about, I don’t want you having all these man-hating feelings.” Jake had thought his way through this part of the discussion several times, though he had not expected to have it this night. He was operating purely on instinct, and it seemed right to talk about it. He had read that most couples who fail did so because of miscommunication. And he wasn’t going to have any of that.
The headlights from a white minivan cut across them like a prison searchlight. Jake looked up and saw who it was.
“I think you probably need to get inside. I’ll check you later.”
“No, don’t leave,” Amanda said, pulling on his arm lightly. A matronly figure with bleached-blonde hair, not thin, not fat, wearing a matching coral pantsuit with a triple string of pearls around her neck emerged from the minivan that was now hemming Jake’s truck into the driveway. “At least say hi.”
“Hey there, Jake,” the woman said in a whiny, Southern accent with mock enthusiasm.
Jake shuffled, looked at the ground, and then looked up at Mrs. Gabrielle Hastings — Hastings being the surname of her fourth husband. “Hi, Miss Gabrielle, nice to see you.”
“You can call me Nina, Jake. How many times have I told you that? Anyway, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were lying to me.” The expression she painted on looked curiously like a smile, but for the emptiness in her eyes. “Are you taking care of this pretty girl here?” Without giving him a chance to answer, she continued. “Of course not. Nobody can take care of my Manda Wanda like her Nina.” With that she hugged Amanda, pulling her away from Jake. “Isn’t that right?”
“Hey, Nina.” Amanda’s persona changed measurably, assuming the role of a child, becoming sheepish, cowing. Nina was the nickname that Amanda had known for her since she was born. Her grandmother had told her that she could never utter the words “grandma,” and it always came out “Nina.” Though she had no recollection of that, she presumed it was true.
“Where’s your momma?”
“Be home in a few minutes. Went to get more ice or something.”
“With a party like this going on? What are you, crazy?”
“They’re being good in there, Nina. Don’t worry.”
“Let’s just go see about that.” Nina Hastings pulled Amanda away by the arm toward the porch.
“Wait, Nina, I’m talking to Jake about something. The Citadel’s accepted him.”
The grandmother stopped walking and turned slowly toward Jake, who was sitting in the driver’s seat of his truck with one foot on the cobblestone driveway, elbow leaning on the steering wheel. Nina’s face contorted into an evil mask, the light from the porch casting across half of her face then slowly shining across the entire tortured countenance.
She locked eyes with Jake, who held her stare. He had never liked the woman. He thought she was bad for Amanda and her mother, quite frankly. He saw her as selfish and controlling, using Amanda to fill her own egotistical needs. They held their locked gaze for a moment. Nina narrowed her eyes.
Jake smiled. “I think I just made up my mind.”
Nina snatched Amanda’s arm again and dragged her toward the house.
Amanda’s eyes widened. “No!” she screamed as Nina hauled her to the porch and into the house.
Jake listened as someone had stopped the music and there was a collective moan from the party crowd. Then, he heard Nina’s voice say, “Come on y’all, let’s have a party.” The music suddenly cranked back up and thumped at the walls.
Jake slid behind the wheel of his truck, closed the door and muttered, “Citadel, here I come,” under his breath. He pulled forward into the grass and then back onto the circular driveway.