Chapter 23

"You're moving?"

"Yeah. When we started working on this place I mentioned to Dad that, as nice as it is living above you guys, we'd love to get our own place after we graduate.

"Well, he came up with a plan that if I worked for him this summer, I could apply my time toward a down payment. A sort of 'sweat equity' I think he called it, and then we'd pay him each month whatever our rent was with you.

"Tommy, we didn't see how we could turn down a deal like that." He looked at me, almost pleading for me to understand. At first I felt almost betrayed. My best friend wanted to move out? Then I thought about it: I mean, here was a chance to get a start on their own! How could they not take it?

"Greg, don't worry about it. We knew the arrangement Beth set up was temporary. You've been talking about getting your own place the whole time you've been living with us. I'm happy for you, buddy."

I thought about it on the drive home. It would mean we'd have new renters—probably a bunch of freshmen throwing parties every night. I pulled into our driveway and just sat in the Jeep, thinking. What would it be like having strangers living upstairs? Our friend George across the alley had told us enough horror stories of tenants who had lived in our place before we did. I remembered all too well what we'd had to do to make the place livable and shuddered a little.

And then there was Beth.

How was I going to tell her? She was having enough hassles at work without having to worry about trying to find somebody—or some bodies—to live upstairs. Some bodies that we could stand sharing our house with. Suddenly, having rental property lost a lot of allure.

How was I going to break the news to my lady?

It turned out not to be a problem.

"Oh, Cindy told me last week," Beth responded when I told her.

"And when were you going to tell me?" I asked. It wasn't normal for her to hold back information, especially when it involved friends. Didn't I deserve to know? I mean, didn't it affect me—

I put the brakes on. After all, it wasn't my house or my income that was affected. It would have been nice to know, but I couldn't get bent out of shape over the whole thing.

"By the way, don't worry about renting out the apartment. I'll take care of that," she added with one of her little grins.

Okay, so when was I going to learn to trust her? It was probably obvious to everyone but me that she was smarter than I was and could get along very well without coming to me to validate her every decision.

Now THAT was a scary thought...

The next morning Beth was up and gone early; the one drawback to her new job was the long drive, which meant she had to leave earlier than when she was working at her folks' shop.

I was proud of the fact that she'd chosen to leave the security of working for her parents for the uncertainty of seeking a job with another company, even if it was just for the summer.

I rolled out about eight and finished up the pictures for Chet, then sent the files off to the lab for printing. I was especially proud of the one shot of the plasma cutter and couldn't wait to show him the final print.

That night I was more than happy to get home from the theatre. Beth had been late getting home that afternoon. A monster tie-up on the freeway had her taking side-streets most of the way home. On top of that rehearsals had been anything but easy. Trying to learn the synchronized dance sequence for Born to Hand-Jive was hard enough. Doing it on an outdoor stage that had been cooking in ninety-degree heat all day was even worse and certainly not my favorite way of working up a sweat, although learning the dance turned out to be fun.

When we got home about eleven the trip from the Jeep to the shower was a short one, with Beth about half a second behind me. We stood there, letting the water flow over us and I could almost hear the steam rise as we cooled off. My princess grabbed the soap, started scrubbing my back, and I was in heaven—well, almost.

Heaven came later. So did I.

Although the Fourth of July was in the middle of the week we decided we should celebrate on the actual Fourth rather than wait for the weekend, even though that might cut down on the number of friends who could attend.

The morning of the Fourth we loaded my Jeep with a couple of coolers full of food, another one with cans of various sodas and water, and a few spare blankets. The extra blankets were for anyone who forgot one of their own ... or for those serendipitous matchups the farm seemed to foster. For a while Beth had kept a list of the pairings that got started there but it didn't last long. The same could be said for many of the couples.

Oh, and the fireworks. Beth's dad came through again and we had a cardboard box loaded with goodies, including a bunch of rockets, firecrackers, and just about every other kind of thing that go boom. And sparklers. Gotta have sparklers.

By the time we got to the farm, Greg and Cindy were already there and had set up the tables and the grills.

"Hey, it's about time you got here! We were afraid the herd would show up before you got here with the food," Cindy kidded us as we started unloading the Jeep.

Kev and Gail showed up just a couple of minutes after we did. We had offered them a ride, but my parents had given my brother a car for graduation and I wasn't surprised when he said he'd drive himself.

It was maybe an hour later and most of the gang had arrived when a squad car pulled in.

"Excuse me. We saw the gate open. Are you supposed to be here? Do you have any ID?" one of the cops asked.

"Um, yes, right here," I said, pulling my license out of my wallet and handed it over. I glanced nervously at the other cop who was looking in the back of the Jeep. From where I was standing I could see the rocket sticks poking out of box. Why had they decided we needed hassling? The only thing I could think of was that we hadn't put up a sign this year like we had before. Since everyone had been out here before we didn't think we'd need one. Or maybe it was just chance. Either way, I didn't like it.

"Do you have the owner's permission to be here?"

"Officer, my grandparents own the property and are aware that we were having a group out here today." Beth had come around the Jeep and already had her license out for the cop.

"And who are your grandparents?"

"Joan and Hank, er, Henry Jones"

"And how can we reach them? Do you have a phone number?"

Beth gave him their number.

"Two-oh-six? Where's that?"

"Seattle, Washington."

"Seattle? That's handy, isn't it?" The cop was getting a little suspicious.

"Officer, my grandparents moved out there about forty years ago. They used to live on this property. I can show you where the house once stood if you want and describe what it looked like." Oh, oh, looks like it wasn't just the cop that wasn't in a good mood.

Eventually the cops were satisfied and climbed back in their car. Beth looked ready to ask them to close the gate behind them, but thought better of it.

The last of the stragglers showed up just in time for our annual skins-and-shirts volleyball game. I thought back to our first picnic the summer before our senior year of high school and was still a little surprised at how easily some of the girls took it when they ended up on the Skins team. We'd changed things a bit—that first game came about when one of the girls declared we should play it that way, even though there was no reason we'd need to. I mean it wasn't like basketball or football where you had to be able to identify your team-mates in a crowd. For the later games the Skins side was chosen by a coin toss—after the teams were chosen.

"Now remember," Beth told all the girls, "going topless isn't required. If you end up on the Skins team but don't feel comfortable taking your top off, you don't have to." It was funny, but we'd never had a girl who didn't want to participate, even the shy girls who you'd think would never bare anything in public. Group psychology at work? Who knows?

Beth and I ended up on opposite sides this year and I could see the red appear when Greg tossed the coin in the air and called out heads. Her team, er, won the toss. She glanced around at the other girls, shrugged, and peeled off her t-shirt and bikini top. This was the girl who was sure she didn't measure up to her more well-endowed classmates?

Somehow, I didn't know how, but somehow this was going to end up my fault. Probably because Greg was MY friend. It didn't help that Cindy was a Shirt this year.

"STOP STARING AT HER! AND YOU, YOU COVER UP! WHAT ARE YOU, SOME KINDA SLUT?"

Oh, oh. I looked around and saw a guy I didn't know advancing on Sharon Thomas, who'd ended up on the Skins team. Who was this guy? Then I remembered Sharon had brought him. She'd brought a different guy to every Fourth outing so far. Apparently she'd been going through guys almost the way my brother had with girls after Gail's parents dragged her off to California.

"Come off it, Bill. It's just a volleyball game. And don't tell me you haven't been looking at the other girls," Sharon replied standing there, feet spread, hands on hips, chest thrown out in challenge.

"You're just a slut, just like all the other ones!" he yelled as he turned and stomped off.

Sharon just sighed. "Looks like I'm going to need a ride with somebody later? I think I've been dumped." This as we heard a car start with a roar. I hoped the idiot remembered to open the gate before he drove through it.

"So," she said as she turned back to the game, "whose serve?"

"I think tradition says the Skins get the first serve," I said, tossing her the ball.

As the game went on I noticed something. In most games of yard volleyball most of the players would have grass-stained shirts by the time the game was over, but here I hadn't seen one person dive for a save. Then it dawned on me—I don't think it would feel very good for one of the girls to end up in a chest-down slide on the hard ground, especially those on the Skins team. For the guys? I couldn't speak for the others, but there was no way I wanted to leave a furrow in the dirt.

The game eventually wound down with no clear victor—this was a game for fun with no one keeping score.

With the game over, most of the players headed for the pond to clean up and cool off. While our friends were splashing around I got the grills started and pulled the brats and burgers from the cooler. By the time most of the gang was done fooling around in the water we had plates of various goodies ready to come off the grill and there were no shy types when it came to chowing down. I noticed several of the girls left their tops off, just draping towels around their necks which provided a little cover. Sort of.

When Beth saw what most of the girls were doing I saw her gnaw her lip—a sure sign she was unsure of herself. Eventually she just shrugged, tossed on a towel and came over to help with the food.

Somehow I managed to serve everyone without once drooling on the food.

Once everybody had their fill individual couples started wandering off in different directions, some carrying towels or blankets, others just willing to rough it.

As Beth and I lay on our blanket, I thought back to the guy Sharon Thomas had brought. Something I couldn't figure out was why he exploded the way he did. Was he one of those conservative, religious types who equated nakedness with sin, or was he just jealous? The first type I just didn't understand. Oh, I guess I could see their point based on their beliefs, even if I didn't necessarily agree with them. The jealous type on the other hand I had no time for.

When I tried to explain to people that—in my opinion anyway—jealousy and love had nothing to do with each other, I had a hard time getting my thoughts across to some of them.

"You mean you claim to love Beth, but if she went off with someone else you'd be okay with it? It wouldn't bother you?" was a typical response.

I could only say that I wouldn't be happy about losing my princess, but if she'd be happier with someone else, I'd accept the situation for her sake. That got me a lot of strange looks and a few arguments.

"How could you just let her walk away? If I loved someone as much as you claim to love her, I'd want to kill her for leaving," was one response I heard a lot.

And that led to discussions of what "love" was, and things usually went downhill from there. I guess you either got it or you didn't.

Maybe the fact that I'd first seen Beth as someone totally unobtainable had left me with a feeling that I wasn't going to question why she'd spend time with me, just enjoy it while it lasted. And there were times when I still caught myself looking at her in amazement. Perhaps something way down in my subconscious still expected some rich guy to come along and carry her off. Even though she repeatedly told me I was the only guy for her, that little voice popped its ugly head up now and then. I was getting better at ignoring the ungrateful little bastard, but sometimes, in the dark of night...

As it started getting dark one set of fireworks gave way to another. Greg and I had gotten pretty adept at setting up and shooting off our annual load of things that went bang in the night and the "oohs" and "ahhs" seemed to indicate we'd done our job again.

By eleven or so the party started breaking up as couples wandered back to their cars. Eventually, it was just Beth and me and a couple of rugged outdoor-type couples who decided to spent the night under the stars—usually off in their own little corner of the farm. Far enough away that no one else would be disturbed by their late night "conversations."

The following day I picked up and delivered Chet's prints.

"Damn, Tommy, these are great and this one, this is just unbelievable!" he said as he looked at the twenty-by-twenty-four print of the plasma cutter time exposure I'd convinced them would look great adorning their office wall.

"I still don't understand how you did it, but it almost looks like it's moving and that's exactly what the boss wanted."

An hour later I was home, still with a big grin on my face—Chet gave me a couple of leads on other companies that might need my services. There's no better advertising than a happy customer.

Sunday found the whole family gang at our house for our usual Sunday dinner.

When I first met Beth I'd had no idea our families would end up so close, but it hadn't taken too long before the Sunday get-togethers turned into a tradition.

Dad asked Kev how work was going and it was like someone had unleashed a dam.

"Its great! I'm learning so much. I mean, I thought I knew numeric control but actually seeing it...

"And Chuck even let me set up and program one of the machines! Do you know what it's like seeing something you did that on actually working?"

"So I take it you're not bored yet?" Dad asked with a chuckle.

And that set him off all over again.

Just before things broke up, Chuck made an announcement. "By the way, Hank and Joan are coming out for a couple of weeks."

Beth grandparents coming for a visit? Great! They were a couple of my favorite people!

The next Saturday we were waiting at the station. I was a little surprised that they'd decided to travel by train rather than fly as they normally did, but there was no way to guess what Beth's grandparents would do next. Maybe that's why I liked them so much.

"Tommy!"

I looked around and saw Joan waving to us. Hank was standing behind his wife wearing the impish grin that always had me wondering just what was going on in there.

"So, are you two ready for your last year before facing the real world?" Hank asked.

"Oh, Grandpa, don't make it sound like such a big thing," Beth said as she gave her grandfather a big hug.

"Just making sure you're ready for the big, bad world out there," he replied, returning the hug.

"I've been seeing some of that already," she said and went on to describe the personality conflicts she'd been facing at work.

"Well, it's different when you're just another employee, isn't it?" Hank said.