Chapter 11

Lee's turn:

I suppose every little girl dreams of her wedding day. I'm not sure how many of them think about the honeymoon night.

I thought I could depend on Sherry for some good information. She said it most likely would hurt a bit the first time. It did. She said if I did things right, I really wouldn't care. I didn't. She said I'd be sore afterwards. I was.

She didn't tell me that all that leads to an almost spiritual connection. I guess that maybe it's a matter of mindset. I went into Lane's bed knowing that he loves me and I love him and I guess I had expectations that colored my experiences. Maybe if it was a Saturday night hookup after I had a little weed and a little beer, I would've missed it, but there it was, after we'd mated, there was my blood on his bed. What I shared with Lane I could never share with another.

That pain Sherry told me about? It was definitely there, but it wasn't so bad that I didn't spread my legs and straddle Lane a few more times. It's good feeling full of him and it's good when that full feeling is a warmth all though me and it's good when I figure out how to rub my button on him when we're pushing in and out and it's past descriptive words when I'm coming and while waves are washing over me he strains up into me and I feel him throb and then there's this hot wetness as deep inside me as it can be.

Yeah, we messed up the bed. We changed the sheets, running around his house naked together. We showered. It's the second time we've showered together. I really like it.

I know I put on one of Lane's flannel shirts to run around the house while my own clothes finished drying. I find out that it's one of those things that sets my Lane off. I'm going to have to start writing all this down.

Anyway, he gave me a backpack and sent me to Gramma's house to get a couple of changes of clothes to keep at his house. I came back, found him and Sherry sitting outside, talking. She knows we did it, but he's not telling her. I will talk with her later. So far, she's been like a big sister, and her advice hasn't been wrong yet.

We slept together. Slept. For real, not a euphemism for sex.

Had a great Sunday morning. I can get used to this. But in all this sunshine there are clouds on the horizon. Gramma's due back today. Sooner or later she and I must have a talk. It's the most serious talk ever.

I pay close attention to Gramma's driveway. Her and her beau took off for the weekend in HIS car. I noticed when they returned. His car in the driveway. Next time I looked, his car's gone.

I called Gramma. "Hi, Gramma. How was your weekend?"

"Good, baby. How was yours?"

"Good also. Are you in the mood for a serious talk?"

"How serious, Lee?"

"Serious serious. But it's good stuff, Gramma. Really. Good stuff."

"Well then you oughtta come home and talk."

"I will. But Gramma!"

"Yes, Lee?"

"I'm bringing Lane. From up the street."

Lane was watching me make this phone call. "You didn't give 'er much time to settle down, baby."

"I'm hoping she's still mellow from her weekend. I know I am."

"I don't think it works like that. First thing, you're dragging me in. First thing to cross her mind it that this guy's doing her granddaughter."

"I'm eighteen, Lane. You're the first man to 'do' her granddaughter and I'm setting things up so you'll be the last. D'you know how common eighteen year old virgins are?"

He had a blank look. I don't get 'im often. I have him right now.

"Well, buddy boy," I said, laying it on thick because it's fun when I do that, "the official stats I read said only 38% of eighteen year old girls are virgins. I, however, think I go to school with a bunch of slut-puppies and I'd be surprised if it was one out of six. You got lucky."

"But..."

I kept on. "And you know how many kids are born to unwed parents? At that age? Probably eighty percent. I watch. I pay attention. And I don't do that shit!" Yeah, I seldom resort to profanity, but when I do, it's for effect.

"Okay, Little Miss Perfect," he said. "You got me."

"Yeah, okay. So Gramma knows that stuff too. We've had a few talks." I smirked. "Birds and bees stuff, but not nearly as much useful information as Sherry gave me."

He's so cute when I'm winning. "Come on. Let's get this done."

"Done," he said. "Does your Grandma keep a gun in the house?"

"No," I giggled. "But she's got a fourteen inch chef's knife. And I think you can outrun 'er." Giggle. "If she heads to the kitchen, take off. You can use the head start."

"You're mean."

"I'm just mean now so that when I'm nice later, it will be soooo much better."

"Let's go, then," he said.

Okay, we're walking down the street in broad daylight. Side by side. Close. Close enough. I reach for his hand. He reacts to the touch, taking mine in his. We're brave, I guess. But why not?

I walked right up the steps and into Gramma's house. She was sitting there with a glass of chardonnay, a bit uncharacteristic. She usually didn't drink until after five.

"Hi, Gramma," I said, suddenly feeling like a child.

"Hello, Judy," Lane said.

"Hello to the two of you," she said. "It IS the two of you, am I right?"

"Yes, Gramma," I said. "Lane and I. We're a couple. A pair." I don't know what broke inside me, but I felt myself blurting "We wanna get married."

Lane looked surprised.

Gramma looked at me, then Lane.

"I haven't found the subtle side of 'er, Judy. Bashful, yes. But not subtle."

Gramma took a sip of her wine. I think it gave a pause to think of what to say to all this. Finally, she spoke. "You're eighteen. You don't even have to ask, Lee."

"But you're my Gramma. I love you. I respect you. And I owe you the respect of asking."

"And if I said 'no'?"

"You're my Gramma and you love me enough to disrupt your life and take care of me and want good things for me, and if we talk to you about this, you won't say no."

"Baby, this isn't because of us talking about you moving out after you graduate, is it? Because seriously, you're good here. And if you go to college, you're STILL good here. I talked to Johnny about it. He totally understands."

"I appreciate that, Gramma," I said. "Really. But that's not why. Gramma, see this guy?" I grabbed Lane's hand, tugging him closer to me. "Gramma, I LOVE this guy. Not that silly schoolgirl crap where I write his name all over and I write Mrs. Lane Chesley all over. Gramma, he's smart and he's funny. Gramma, he treats me like an adult human being. Like I'm important. I love 'im."

"Slow down, baby," Gramma said. "You're starting to repeat yourself."

"He makes me run out of words, Gramma."

Gramma fixed Lane in a stare. "And you, Mister Chesley."

"I guess I can be Mister Chesley, Judy."

"My teenage granddaughter. She loves you. What are your thoughts? I mean, besides the obvious fist-pumps and "I'm doin' a teenager" and thumping on your chest..."

"First, Judy, I seldom thump my chest for any reason. On most days my knuckles do not drag on the ground, and I communicate in words with more than two syllables. Second, this lady is a dream. She's smart, an excellent conversationalist, a quick wit, and she has excellent tastes, as evidenced by her choosing me. We arrived at the conclusion that we loved each other after much solitary soul-searching on both our parts." He sighed. "Yes, I love her. And before you even ask, I'm a three-time loser in marriage, but none of them was anything close to Lee."

"So the two of you are actually asking me for a blessing on this?"

"Yes, Gramma. It's the right thing to do."

Gramma went after Lane again. "And your thoughts?"

"It's the right thing to do, asking you."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, sit down, both of you," Gramma said.

That made me feel better. I scooted next to Lane. Took his hand, laced our fingers together.

"You're an unusual couple, you know," Gramma said. "Not too big a difference in ages." She sighed. "Lee, I have to admit I lost sleep over you, baby. I feared that some bozo would come along, and you, doing your 'outsider' thing, you'd fall for him and he wouldn't treat you right because he wouldn't recognize what he had with you." She kind of glared at Lane again. "There are plenty of men out there who will prey on gullible and fragile young girls."

"Lane's not that, Gramma. I cleaned 'is house from top to bottom. I would've found evidence."

"Ohhhh, so there's the connection. That's how you met..."

"Yeah," Lane said. "My windowless van and bag of candy started getting the wrong kind of attention."

I watched Gramma's face. She almost strained something trying not to laugh.

"That's NOT what I meant, Lane Chesley!" she said, trying to remain serious. "I simply meant that I did not know how you might go about meeting my granddaughter. I knew she was cleaning a house for somebody that my niece set up for her. So you met her in that circumstance?"

"Exactly," Lane said. "At first I had to pry every word out of her to carry on a conversation over what I wanted done. She performed well. Beyond expectations. We got used to talking to each other."

"And..." Gramma led him.

"And I don't have a lot of friends around here that I want to go out and eat with or go to a movie with. I USED Lee. As a substitute for the friends I don't have."

"That's right, Gramma. We'd go out for dinner or to a movie. Those evenings when you had Johnny here and I didn't want to bother the two of you."

Lane picked up the narrative. "Two people in search of friends, we found out that we have a lot in common, and a lot that we can argue about and be quite happy in arguing because it's with each other."

Gramma actually smiled.

Lane kept going. "We kept it up, neither of us willing to admit it was anything but a friendship."

"I broke the ice, Gramma. I told HIM first. Kinda forced him to admit it."

"Forced him?" Gramma returned to glaring at Lane. "She forced you?"

"Judy," Lane said, "I'd been battling with myself because I thought that I was reading more into our relationship than she was, that I felt love and she felt 'friend'. When she said it, it was a relief. I could admit it."

"So you love her and she loves you and naturally, you want to be married." Gramma smirked.

"Yes, Gramma," I said. "There's some stuff that went on between that first pair of 'I love you's' and the 'we wanna get married' thing."

"I can imagine."

Okay, Bailee, let's see exactly how gutsy you are. "Gramma, you know how in the pioneer days, there wasn't a preacher or a judge around. People got married by writing their marriage date and names in the family bible?"

Gramma knows what's coming. That might include me passing out. I reached in my purse, pulled out my little red Bible. Opened up the front cover. There, written as skillfully as I could muster, it said, "Married this date – Bailee Johnson to Lane Chesley. The date was there, and both our signatures.

Gramma laughed. "Oh, Lee, I'm not laughing AT you. It's just that you two have been arguing with me for half an hour about a fait accompli. What you two need is a marriage license to make this a matter of official record."

She opened her arms. "C'mere, granddaughter. You're still a blessing to me. You still surprise me. And in the last few weeks, you seemed to have opened up, flowered, started standing up straight. Wondered why." She smiled. "Lane, now I know. Yes. Blessings, whatever blessings my word might offer, you get them. Both of you."