Page 12 of Paper Ghosts

“Use protection,” Dorothy said seriously.

Wills shifted uncomfortably. She hadn’t thought of that. She hadn’t thought of any of the details. She suddenly felt a tinge of fear at the unknown, but she still put on a good face and said, “I’m not stupid.”

As they walked back to the church, Dorothy shook her head and said, “Neither is he. And you’re a shining example of his ability to talk anyone into anything.”

That evening Dorothy picked Wills up in her family’s farm truck, which smelled faintly of hay and manure. Gram had agreed to let Wills spend the night on a school night because Wills told her that Dorothy’s new Bride’s magazine had come, and they wanted to go through it together. Gram had already picked out Wills’s wedding dress. It was sitting in a box in her closet. Terrence was supposed to propose over the summer. The wedding would be in June of next year, and Gram had already booked the church. Gram knew that if Wills wanted to experience anything remotely like what the excitement of planning a wedding would feel like, Dorothy was her only chance.

The plan was to shower and feather her hair at Dorothy’s, since Gram would get suspicious if she did either of those at home. But when they got to Dorothy’s house, her brothers insisted on preparing dinner and eating with them. Then they lingered to talk politely with Wills, as if afraid it would get back to Gram that they hadn’t been hospitable. When they finally went to their rooms for bed, Wills barely had enough time to crawl through Dorothy’s window and take the snacks and blanket Dorothy handed her, before taking off at full speed, terrified Jack would think she’d stood him up.

It took her a while. She had to zigzag through dead zones, not wanting to take a chance on being seen. She finally approached the crest of the hill near the cow pasture and saw his silhouette. He was holding his guitar case and a paper bag, facing the direction of Dorothy’s house and scanning the field for her arrival, not realizing she would have to take such a long way around. His expectation created an aura around him, like a lunar halo.

“Jack,” she called. She ran up the hill and stopped in front of him, breathless. Love, according to her grandmother, was a weakness. Wills wondered if this was what she meant, how jelly-legged and trembly she felt, like when you’ve been in bed with the flu for days and then try to walk. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t get away until now. I was afraid you’d already left.”

“I would have waited until morning just to see you wild like this,” he said, his eyes all over her. “Look at you. Your hair actually moves. It’s like you took off your armor.”

She was suddenly self-conscious, years of her grandmother telling her to never be seen as anything less than perfect ingrained in her. “Don’t tell anyone. Westers aren’t supposed to show weaknesses.”

“And hair spray is your weapon of choice?”

“You can’t crack shellac,” she said.

He laughed and set down his guitar and paper bag, then took a yellow rose out of his shirt pocket and handed it to her with flourish, like a magician. “I noticed Terrence didn’t give you a corsage for prom. Shame on him.” She didn’t have a free hand to take it, so he relieved her of the red-and-black-checked blanket Dorothy had given her. While he spread it onto the ground, Wills put the rose to her nose. The reason Terrence hadn’t given her a corsage was because Gram hadn’t trusted him to choose the right flower. This, to Wills, would forever be the right flower.

“I haven’t had to sneak out of a house since I was sixteen, but I managed to filch some wine from Penwell’s basement,” Jack said, pulling a bottle out of the paper bag he was carrying. “It had an inch of dust on it, so I don’t think he’s going to miss it. And here is what we call fine dining on the road.” He emptied the rest of the bag as they sat. “Ritz crackers and spray cheese.”

“I have Hostess Fruit Pies, courtesy of Dorothy,” Wills said, handing him her bag.

He looked in the bag, and then laughed. “Did you know she also included condoms?”

Wills immediately took the bag back and looked inside. “Jesus, Dorothy.”

“How much did you tell her?” Jack asked, still laughing.

“Everything. She’s one of my best friends. I can trust her. But she obviously didn’t trust me.” Wills took out the fruit pies, then set the bag aside. Her heart was racing, as if she were still running. She didn’t know how to make it stop.

Jack uncorked the wine and poured some into jelly glasses. He handed one to her and said in a toast, “To the queen of Hen Town.”

She clinked her glass to his, her hand shaking slightly. “To the king of the road.”

They drank, and immediately gagged. “My God, that’s awful. Quick, we need to cleanse the palate.” He took the spray cheese and said, “Open up.”

She opened her mouth and he squeezed some onto her tongue before doing the same to himself, and then they laughed so hard they could barely swallow because it wasn’t much better.

After eating their royal feast, Jack put his head on her lap and strummed his guitar as they both stared at the night sky strewn with only a handful of stars. That’s when her heart finally began to calm. The music spoke to her, reminding her that there was nothing to be scared of because Jack was like music itself—something to get lost in and forget herself for a while. She stroked his hair away from his face. “I have a question.”

He raised his brows.

“What did you and Andy Smooth fight about that made him leave you behind?”

He grinned. “I was badgering him about you and your family. I could tell it was a sore spot, but I kept poking it. He finally threw my things out of the van and told me, Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“You didn’t have to stay,” Wills said. “You could have hitchhiked out of here.”

“I was going to. But Principal Penwell offered to let me crash at his place overnight and then drive me to Chapel Hill himself. My plan was to grovel and get Andy to take me back, so at least I’d end up back in LA. But then Penwell and I got drunk, and he talked about how Andy had been a lousy band teacher. He said that even I could do a better job. I said I only knew how to play guitar, so he said why not stay and give private lessons? All I saw was an opportunity to take the money I’d get up front and leave anyway, without actually giving lessons. It wouldn’t have been the first time I’d conned someone.”

When she didn’t react, just continued to stroke his hair, he sat up and asked with amusement, “Does anything shock you?”

“I was raised by a morally gray person. I learned a long time ago that you can do bad things and still be good. It’s the quotient that matters. In the end, when you die and you’ve done more good than bad, maybe you didn’t lose the game.”