Twenty minutes later the fireworks had ended and Betty lay naked under her pink coverlet with her head on Abe’s bare chest. They still had time, the party on the veranda would go on for at least another half hour, her grandparents hosting and hostessing their hearts out. Stern’s Fourth of July bash was renowned. It would never end early.
She lifted her head. “What did you say?”
“I didn’t say anything.” Abe ran his fingers along her spine and Betty giggled.
The back door slammed.
She pushed Abe so hard he rolled off the bed. “Hide in the closet.”
Without clothes or a moment to gather them, he opened the closet door, backed in, and pulled the door closed. Betty kicked his clothes under her bed as footsteps on the stairs pounded nearer. There was no way out of this now. She would be humiliated, and she would shame her grandparents. Abe would be fired. Oh God. He was naked!
“Betty!” The whisper-yell floated into her room. It was not Zaide or Nannie.
It was Georgia.
She stood in the doorway and glanced around the room, not once looking directly at Betty’s face, but definitely looking at the messy bed and the dress she had fashioned out of the floral sheet.
“Your grandparents are asking for you. I told them I’d find you, that you were probably on the beach stargazing. But I saw you run off from the parking lot earlier, so I’m probably not the only one. You’d better hurry.”
Betty’s throat felt like she’d swallowed sand. “Thank you,” she mouthed.
“Are you okay?” Georgia whispered.
Betty’s cheeks warmed. She nodded and smoothed out her hair. She felt its unkemptness beneath her hand, and that was as embarrassing as her makeshift caftan.
“I’m going back to tell them you’ll be along in a few minutes,” Georgia said. “I’ll tell them not to worry, that I saw you walking back from South Beach. Please make sure you’re wearing everything you were wearing earlier. You know your grandmother will know.”
“I will.”
“And if you hurt my girl Betty, you’ll have to answer to me, do you hear?” she added in her full voice, louder than was needed.
“I hear you.” Abe’s muffled voice seeped out of the closet.
“I’m leaving.” Georgia stepped toward the closet. “I know one good turn deserves another but please stay in there until I’m gone. Then, hurry.” She looked at Betty. “I hope he’s worth it.”
Betty smiled. “He is.”
Georgia left the room and the house, and Betty pulled open the closet door and shoved Abe’s clothes at him. “Get dressed.”
Those were not the words she’d imagined whispering at the end of their night, but nothing mattered now as much as covering their tracks. Even with the next year spent apart, they had a lifetime of making love and lazing in bed ahead of them. A lifetime where no one would be hiding.
Abe left first, out the back door. She didn’t ask where he was going.
Betty washed, dressed, freshened her face, and made up her bed—all in less than ten minutes. Her body ached in ways she didn’t know it could, but she didn’t mind; it was as if Abe was still with her.
Betty knew what she would say. She and Abe had stolen away to South Beach to watch the fireworks and lost track of time. She’d apologize for being careless and selfish. The beaches were filled with locals and summer people, so Nannie would trust there had been no shenanigans—that the evening was just as she described.
Betty inhaled a deep breath of night air and counted to ten, reverting back to the girl her grandparents knew. At least on the outside. She bounced down the steps, then with a twinge slowed to a stroll. In minutes she’d be holding a sizzling sparkler and reassuring her grandparents that everything in the world was about as right as a summer rain.
Chapter 18
BOOP
The doctor said Georgia had a brain bleed, a broken right cheekbone, and two pelvic fractures. Her face was bruised, her demeanor a little loopy. All anyone knew was that she’d tripped while stepping up onto a curb, and had gone down so fast there was nothing Hannah could have done. The doctor also said she was fortunate. Boop didn’t want to imagine what unfortunate might look like, or what her life would look like without Georgia in it.
What if Georgia had died—and why was the hospital so darned cold? The hair on Boop’s arms stood on end. Hannah walked into the room with a blue blanket and draped it over Boop’s shoulders as if she’d eavesdropped on her thoughts.
Guarded from the chill, Boop stared at Georgia as her cheek, already purple, hinted at the array of colors to come. Boop always assumed she’d have time to say goodbye to her dearest friends, the way she’d had two years to say goodbye to Marvin. She was presumptuous, naive, or maybe just infinitely hopeful. One minute Georgia was off for a walk and chat with Hannah, shifting her turquoise flamingo-print fanny pack over her hip, the next minute she was in an ambulance. What if Boop weren’t standing by her bedside in the ER but by a gurney in the morgue? This was possible, but it wasn’t her time. Not yet.
Georgia was there in the bed. Georgia was breathing. The doctor said these were not life-threatening injuries.
But that wasn’t always the way, was it? Sometimes people went away, you thought they were coming back, and then they didn’t.
Boop whisked away her morbid thoughts. “You really don’t remember falling?”
“No,” Georgia said.
“I should have caught her, I should have known,” Hannah said. “But we were talking and I guess I was looking away and then I heard her hit the ground.”
“It’s not your fault,” Boop said. “If someone is going down, there’s not much you can do to stop it. Thank
