Though Abe had dressed unpatriotically in his short-sleeved white shirt and tan trousers, his style made Betty’s knees wobble. She’d always been mad for the best-dressed boys at South Haven High. Maybe because Zaide always wore tailor-made suits, or because the times she’d seen Joe he’d been decked out in the latest menswear she’d recognized from the Sears catalog. The rough-and-tumble appearance of a day’s manual labor or the odorous remnants of fruit farming didn’t turn her head, as it did for some of her friends. To each her own.
Abe’s narrow collared shirt and cuffed-hem pants, along with his combed-back hair, resembled the men in Betty’s favorite magazine’s advertisements for cigarettes and luncheon meats. Her heart pattered.
When Betty stepped closer, she’d smell the sandalwood notes in his aftershave. Abe smiled at her, unleashing his dimples and those crinkles around his eyes she loved to smooth beneath her fingers. Betty clapped her hands to her sides. She would not make a fool of herself by running or waving.
Instead, she raised her hand waist-high and wiggled her fingers with surreptitious zeal.
Betty hoisted herself next to Abe and slipped her arm around his waist. She pressed against him, and as she moved in to kiss his cheek, he turned his head and kissed her on the lips. She giggled that she’d fallen for that one. Still, Betty pushed him away but left her hand on his chest. “Not here.”
Abe looked around. There were couples necking and groping in plain sight. “It’s up to you, you know that.”
Abe had better not think she was a prude. They’d gone to third base, almost. Betty leaned so that the weight of her breast pushed against his arm. He wouldn’t mistake that for an accident. She was new to most of this, but she wasn’t stupid. She stretched to kiss him intentionally, but with closed lips, and then pulled back slowly. “I’m just private.”
“Too bad we rarely have any privacy.”
He was right. The one place they could rely on for privacy had been tainted by Marv and Eleanor, at least for Betty.
Her thoughts tumbled. Her house was empty. Her grandparents wouldn’t leave that veranda for another hour, at least. If they noticed she was missing, who would they ask? What would they do?
Who was she kidding? That night they wouldn’t notice.
Betty slid off the car and stretched out her hand. Abe clasped her fingers. “Come with me,” she said. “I know the best spot to see the fireworks.”
Abe landed on the ground next to her. “And where might that be?”
“Do you trust me?”
He nodded. Betty tugged and Abe followed.
Anyone who noticed them would think Betty and Abe were headed toward South Pier or to a viewing spot on the beach. If anyone saw them go inside the house, they’d reason that Betty was grabbing a sweater or a headscarf or fetching something for Nannie. Betty quickened her step, then slowed. The more nonchalant she and Abe seemed, the better.
At the last moment she led him to the back door instead of the front. A little caution couldn’t hurt.
“Are you nuts?” he asked.
Betty turned and looked up into Abe’s eyes. She swore she saw glitter sparkling around the damp edges. The words I love you echoed in Betty’s ears as if someone had bellowed into a cavern. If other sounds punctured the night air in those moments—the boom of the first fireworks, laughing children, meowing cats, slamming doors—Betty didn’t hear them.
“Yes. I’m nuts about you. We’ll be alone for at least an hour, maybe more.” She raised one eyebrow, so Abe would understand what she’d intended the moment she’d slid off the hood of his car.
She’d also been sure of her intentions when she’d hurriedly gathered the sparklers, when she’d dressed that morning in new undergarments, when she’d fallen asleep last night, and when she’d fallen asleep every night for the past two weeks.
Betty opened the door and scurried inside, and Abe followed her into the kitchen. Without another spoken word, but with clear intention, she guided Abe through the living room and they climbed the stairs without pause.
When Betty tapped her bedroom door ajar, the sky visible through the open window sparkled with the first pops and sizzles of fireworks. Oohs and aahs drifted inside.
Abe embraced Betty and whispered into her ear, “I will always love you.”
Shivers traveled down her neck and landed in her middle. Betty was grateful, giddy, terrified, and relieved. Abe scooped up her hand as if it were a delicate baby chick and kissed it. This was the right decision. He was the right boy.
“Are you sure?” he whispered.
Betty swallowed hard but nodded.
“And you’re sure we’re alone?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Then I’ll be right back.”
Abe ran out of the room and down the steps so quickly Betty didn’t have a chance to stop him. Her heart twanged like she’d been pelted with ice. What had she done wrong? Was she too forward? Not forward enough? Did the idea of being in her childhood bedroom bother him? Then she heard the back door shut. No!
Betty slipped on her shoes, not sure if she should follow him and if she did, what she would find. Then the door shut again, followed by heavy, pounding footsteps on the stairs—he was running up two or three steps at a time. Abe was coming back. Back to her room and back to her. And there he was, standing in her open doorway. He was breathing fast but wasn’t panting or out of breath. He held a white piece of cloth—his handkerchief—wrapped around the stem of one of Nannie’s biggest in-bloom fuchsia-and-coral-colored climbing roses. He set it on Betty’s nightstand with the blossom facing the bed.
“You deserve a whole dozen,” Abe said. “But this was the best I could do on short notice.”
“How?” Those vines were strewn with thorns.
Abe patted his pocket. “Pocketknife.”
Betty stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. They walked farther into her room and headed away from the
