Chapter Nineteen

"Imagine!" I said. "I almost told Jodi I loved her. I didn't care if the baby was mine or not—I loved her."

Oz rocked back and laughed. "And you kept telling me not to mess with Christie. 'Don't get involved,' you said. 'Keep it simple.'"

Chapter Nineteen

The next morning, at the breakfast table, before Mom left for work at the station, I tried to dodge a lot of her questions. I didn't tell her all the ugly details about the fight between Jodi and me. I told her simply that Jodi had made it clear she thought the baby was mine, we'd had a little disagreement, and she'd gone home early. I didn't mention that Jodi admitted hooking up with Luke right after I'd left Ghost Bay.

Really, I didn't want to make Jodi look bad. I thought the best thing to do would be to remain friends with her, if she'd allow that, and to wait and see how the DNA testing played out. Just stay cool.

"Do you finally believe her?" Mom'd asked, while she sat across from me at the table, eating a bagel with cream cheese and drinking coffee. She also ate an orange that she'd peeled and divided into sections. "The baby's yours."

"We'll see. We're going to do DNA testing."

"If you have all these doubts, that's probably wise."

"I'll pay child-support and be done with it. I'll still play football at a big-time college and earn a MBA. I'll work hard. I'll be somebody."

Mom sipped her coffee and set the mug down. "Really, Michael, once you see the baby and hold it—your own son or daughter—don't you think you'll want to be more involved than that, simply making child-support payments?"

Pouring milk over my cornflakes and poking at the mix with a spoon, I said, "I don't know, Mom. I mean, I've never held a new baby, I've never thought about that. Never been in this situation before."

"A new life is so precious, so fragile, so demanding—I'm sure you'll love this child like no one else."

As I ate my cereal, Dad's words rumbled through my mind: I don't want you to make yourself into someone like me, a person who had no time for the people he should've loved the most.

Seems like the harder I tried to deal with the chaos I'd created, the deeper I sank into confusion. Like sinking into quicksand.

New Year's Eve night, Mom and a guy named Ted Feldman went to an all-night dance at the Starlight Ballroom at the fairgrouds. He was a widower who worked at the station in sports. Mom had known him for a long time. They connected at the Christmas party. "He's a very nice gentleman," Mom told me, "but he's not a date. Nothing like that. He's just picking me up, you know, because of all the ice and snow."

"Sounds like a date to me."

Looking sheepish, Mom twisted her wedding rings around on her finger.

I still couldn't imagine Mom with anyone else but Dad. Maybe she didn't consider the guy a date—she was still wearing her rings. But I remember Dad saying he'd told Mom not to mourn him. Not even for a day. Move on.

"I hope you have a good time," I said.

I think she intended to because she was smiling at the front door like a schoolgirl when they guy came to pick her up.

Mom was happy I decided to stay home New Year's Eve and that Oz was coming over. I wouldn't be out partying someplace drinking too much and then attempting to drive home.

Oz and I wasted ourselves at my house. The object was to forget the women we'd failed with so miserably. Neither one of us felt like going to a party where there'd be other women hanging out. Maybe some strays we could pick up. We'd had it with women.

After Oz and I polished off a few of Dad's beers, we experimented with hard stuff. We drank most of it over ice, sipping it while shooting pool, dipping in the Jacuzzi, and finally steaming in the sauna. Later, if we were still alive, we were going to watch a XXX-rated movie—The Male Extension—on DVD. Oz said he'd borrowed the movie from his cousin. But I had a suspicion the flick was his.

"This is the way to go, isn't it?" Oz said.

We slouched on the top deck in the sauna, elbows on our knees, heads bowed, steaming the beer out of ourselves in rolling drops of sweat. The heat had turned Oz's body pink. I licked the salty sweat beads off my top lip. A tumbler of Yukon Jack over ice sat next to each of us. The glasses dripped sweat like Oz and me. We drank in a hurry because the ice melted quickly in the sauna.

"I mean cocaine, speed, crack—all that stuff blows your mind in no time," Oz said. "But booze is okay. You can last a long while. I've got an uncle who's been an alcoholic for twenty years. He drinks everyday. Besides, booze is legal."

"Not for us, I said, and laughed. I don't know why I laughed. Everything Oz or I said sounded funny.

Oz picked up his glass and sloshed his drink around, rattling the ice. "Here's to Christie and Jodi," he said, and drank.

"Christie and Jodi," I repeated, taking a gulp of my drink, then laughing.

Until that evening, I hadn't told Oz about Jodi, but now, full of booze, I'd told him the whole story, beginning with how I'd met her in Wisconsin and how everything ended on December 20th when she told me she hooked up with her ex-boyfriend after I left Ghost Bay, but I was ninety-eight percent positive the baby she was carrying was mine. Luke and she used condoms; she and I didn't.

"Imagine!" I said. "I almost told Jodi I loved her. I didn't care if the baby was mine or not—I loved her."

Oz rocked back and laughed. "And you kept telling me not to mess with Christie. 'Don't get involved,' you said. 'Keep it simple.'"

"Trouble is I wasn't smart enough to follow my own advice," I said, and laughed with Oz. "I was even more stupid than you."

"You lost your focus, man. I knew you would."

"But I'll find it again," I said. "It's out there somewhere. Waiting for me."

"I'd rather go to jail than think I was falling in love again."

"I hear you," I said, and laughed louder.

On New Year's morning, I decided I wasn't cut out to be an alcoholic. Last night's drinking flattened me with a pounding headache and morning-long dry heaves.

While lying on the couch, my head thumping with pain, while staring bleary-eyed at the TV, trying to watch a parade for some bowl game, I made a New Year's resolution to never drink again.

When Oz woke about nine o'clock in the morning and staggered down the spiral stairs, puffy-eyed, his short blonde hair standing on end, I said, "Booze is not the answer to life's problems, Oz." My mouth was still dry, making speech difficult. "It can't be."

"It's the only answer."

"Uh-uh. It doesn't solve anything."

"Who wants to solve life's problems? I want to ignore them."

"You can't. They won't go away. They pop up again. You got to solve them." Then I tried to smile. "You ought to look at yourself in a mirror."

Oz scuffed over to the bar. "You got anything cold to drink? Ice water? Pop? What did we eat last night?"

"We didn't."

"That sucks. Did we watch that porno flick?"

"I don't think so. Make sure you take it with you. I don't want my mom finding it." I sat up on the couch. "There's Pepsi behind the bar, ice in the refrigerator, frozen pizzas in the freezer."

Oz popped open a can of Pepsi, dug cubes out of the refrigerator, clinking them into a tall glass, and poured his Pepsi over the ice with a jittery hand. He stirred the ice into the drink with his forefinger, then lifted his glass in a toast. "Cheers," he said with a broken smile. "Christie and Jodi. Forget 'em."

"Amen, bro," I said. "Forget 'em." But I knew I'd never be able to forget Jodi or escape the problem I'd created. I was hooked. For life.

Coming Wednesday—Chapter Twenty: After Mom and Christie jump his case, Michael vows again to keep his life simple.

Chapter Eighteen

"Did you guys hook up?"

How many times was I going to ask?

"Yes, Michael. We did." A whisper. But spoken clearly.

I blinked and staggered back.

"But Luke used a condom!" Jodi said fiercely. "We always used condoms."

Chapter Eighteen

When I marched out of the bathroom, Jodi was standing rigidly by the front door, her coat, hat, scarf, and boots on. "What the hell is this?" I said.

Her jaw was set. "You don't have to take me home. I called my grandfather. He's coming to pick me up."

I threw my palms out in front of me, a signal for time out. "I didn't mean to touch you."

"That's not what I'm pissed about." Her lips thinned. "I don't think we need to see each other anymore."

"What's unreasonable about my question?" I threw it at her again: "Did you do him?"

"Don't you think I'd tell you if I wasn't sure the baby's yours?" Her nostrils flared. "You think I'm desperate, I'm a liar?"

"I never said anything like that."

"You've been thinking it all this time, that's even worse." Her face crumbling, she started to cry.

I stared at her and then closed my eyes for a second. Seeing her cry wrenched my heart. How the hell did we get on this track? "I've been thinking the baby might be Luke's—I admit that. I've wondered a lot about Luke."

"Luke was a senior," she said, and wiped her eyes with her knuckles, her chin trembling. "I was a sophomore. He was my boyfriend...an older guy. I was thrilled."

"What does he mean to you now?"

"He's the first boy I was...ever serious with..."

"You were in love with him?"

Jodi shrugged in slow motion. "He was fun. He drove a motorcycle everywhere, I rode on the back. He was nice to me, said he cared for me, and I trusted him."

"Sounds like love."

"But he didn't tell me he'd joined the Navy during the winter and was leaving for boot camp right after graduation and said he was never coming home—he hated his home life. I knew that, but he didn't tell me about the Navy." Jodi's hands balled into fists. "It didn't take me long to figure out he'd simply used me to enjoy his senior year..."

"Like I'd used you last summer? Is that what you're thinking?"

"That's exactly what you did."

"I never intended that."

"But you did. And then Luke came home on leave. His mom was sick..."

"Did you guys hook up?"

How many times was I going to ask?

"Yes, Michael. We did." A whisper. But spoken clearly.

I blinked and staggered back.

"But Luke used a condom!" Jodi said fiercely. "We always used condoms."

I felt like I'd been shot. I touched my fingertips to my shirt to see if I was bleeding from my heart. But that's what I'd wanted to know, wasn't it, the truth? I can handle it.

"I think I did it," Jodi said, "to somehow get even with you. I don't know, I hurt so bad when you left...we'd had so much fun together...my feelings for you were so intense...and then you blew me off. Totally. Like you never really cared for me at all."

"But I did."

"I didn't believe it then, I don't believe it now."

"It's over between you and Luke?"

"What do you think? We parted just like you and me—with a major fight. This time he swore he was never coming home again. Ever. No matter what. I told him good, I never wanted to see his ugly face. He'd used me a second time, but this time was all my fault."

A horn honked in the drive. Jodi and I jumped and looked at the door. "That's my grandfather." Jodi knuckled her tears away once more. "Are you going to call my folks? Tell them about Luke? Say he baby is his?"

"No."

"Let them know how slutty I am?" Phlegm rattled in her throat.

"Jodi, you're not a slut."

"We can do DNA testing after the baby's born. How's that?"

"All right."

She started toward the door.

"When are you due?" I was trying to stay calm, but I could feel myself breathing hard, my chest pumping in and out. "Tell me again."

At the door she turned, and in a quaking voice she said, "I hooked up with him, I admit that, it was a terrible thing to do—stupid!—I regret it, but I'm not trying to trap you, Michael."

"I don't know what to think, I'm so mixed up."

"I really liked you. I thought maybe you could love us, the baby and me. That we might fit somewhere in your life. That's what I came here to find out."

My head bowed. The truth. All of it. At last. Are you satisfied now, Michael? "All right..." I said. "I'm glad you came here." Did I mean that? I flipped on the porch light and touched her elbow. "Watch out for the snow and ice. When are you due...? Let me help you."

She jerked her elbow away. 

"Call me," I said. "We've got to talk again. We've got to settle this."

"It's settled, Michael. Luke and I used a condom. Every single time." She flung the front door open, then the storm door. "It's settled."

Brutally cold air blasted me, and new snow whirled in the night. Jodi dashed down the walk and driveway in the sullen yellow glow of the porch light. She shot through the headlight glare of her grandfather's minivan, her feet crunching in the snow, and climbed into the front seat.

The snow would soon cover her footprints. Like she'd never been in this house. Like she'd never trampled on my heart. I slammed the door and heard the station wagon drive off.

I shivered. I felt cold and empty.

I switched off the porch light.

Once again, I had no idea what to make of all this or what to do. I trudged upstairs to my bedroom, slammed the door closed, and sat on my bed in the dark.

Questions leapfrogged into my mind. Does Luke know about the baby? Or has Jodi kept it a secret from him? Should I tell my mom about Jodi's hooking up with Luke? Obviously, Jodi hadn't told her parents about the possibility that Luke could be the father.

I kicked my shoes off.

What did they tell us in sex ed class?

Condoms, if used correctly, are, like, ninety-eight per cent effective in preventing pregnancies. Christie and I used them all the time, except the first time and a couple of other times when we got carried away. Like Jodi and I did last August. But Christie didn't get pregnant. I guess I didn't think Jodi would get pregnant, either. Maybe that's why I allowed myself to be so careless last summer. You were more than careless, Michael. You were stupid!

I flopped back on my bed and buried the heels of my hands in my closed eyes. Jodi and Luke's using a condom meant there was a ninety-eight percent chance I had made Jodi pregnant. Only a two percent chance for Luke. If Jodi had told me the truth about condomu use. If it hadn't broken. It could have broken; Jodi and Luke didn't realize it. Accidents like that happen. All the time.

I threw my arms out on the bed.

How could I be pissed at Jodi for hooking up with Luke? That last night at Ghost Bay, I'd made it clear we had no future together. That implied that what she did after I left was her own business. None of mine.

And hadn't I told her tonight I didn't care if the baby wasn't mine? Had I meant that? Or was it just talk? Too much wine. Too much togetherness with Jodi: Our lips locking. Tongues getting friendly again and playing games with each other.

Rolling my head back and forth, I tried to snap the kinks out of my neck. I couldn't imagine what Jodi was going through right now. How bad she must feel. What ugly thoughts she might be thinking about Luke and me. Two guys who could have made her pregnant. But neither one of us wanted to claim responsibility. How did that make her feel? Like dirt? Slutty-is what's she'd said.

But hadn't I said I would take responsibility?

I felt as if my brain was going explode into tiny pieces.

After getting up, undressing, and climbing into bed under a stack of blankets but between cold sheets, I fell asleep dreaming of Luke and Jodi hooking up on the lower half of bunk beds in a deer hunter's cabin. I saw myself sitting inside the cabin on a chair, watching them and listening to them laugh at me as they made out.

Coming Monday—Chapter Nineteen: Oz and Michael celebrate New Year's Eve and vow to give up on the girls they failed with so miserably.

Chapter Seventeen

By the time Jodi turned from the dishwasher, my heart was pumping like crazy. Me. Michael Panther. I was thinking stupid things: Love. Commitment. To hell with football and college. "What are you thinking?" I asked.

"About what?"

"About us," I said, and tried to swallow a lump in my throat.

Chapter Seventeen

But I didn't back away. I stumbled forward, and more complications riddled my relationship with Jodi.

On the first day of Christmas vacation from school, while driving Jodi home at night from another skating adventure, I invited her to come over to my house for an evening. I'd cook something for us.

Shows you how weak I'd become. How Jodi was overpowering me. Despite my fears, I felt drawn to her like a magnet. "We'll grill steaks. Or pork chops," I said. "Thursday night. My mom's going to a station Christmas party. We'll have the house to ourselves."

"How's your mom doing?"

I'd told Jodi about Mom's job at the station, how she was putting in more hours now and that she'd quit smoking. "As far as I can tell she's doing great."

When I parked in front of Jodi's grandparents' house under the streetlight, the night was cold and crisp, the moon full and bright.

"What do you say? Will you come over?"

"I talked to Christie Ridgeway this week," Jodi said.

"What?"

"Talked to Christie Ridgeway. I remembered your mentioning her name. She was your girlfriend, right?"

"You went up to her and talked to her?"

"She's so popular here I couldn't help knowing who she is. She's very nice. I introduced myself to her in the cafeteria. She nearly fell off her chair."

"But why? You wanted to show her what I'd done to you, is that it?"

Leaning against her door, Jodi face me in the murky light. "She was your girlfriend before you came to Ghost Bay, wasn't she?"

"Yes, but—"

"I wanted to find out about you."

"Did she say I'm a jerk?"

"No. But she said you were acting weird when you came home last summer. She said you didn't tell her about me."

I tapped my fingers on top of the steering wheel. "Why would I? I never expected to see you again."

"She said when you came home, she tried to apologize and patch things up, but you shut her out."

"Does any of this matter?"

"She wondered if you'd met someone in Wisconsin, and that's why you wouldn't give her another chance."

"Look, Jodi, by the time I got home, I'd decided to focus on school...make my mom and dad proud of me. They've been awesome parents. Maybe my dad worked too much, was never home a lot, but I can't bitch about that. I know he cared for me and wanted the best for me, and I want to be the best."

"He wouldn't be proud of you now, though, would he, knowing the mistake we made?"

"No, he wouldn't." I bit my bottom lip. Man, I'd had enough of this conversation. "Do you want to come over? It's up to you. We'll grill something and drink wine."

"I don't drink. Remember?"

"But you're still eating. For two, in fact. Right?"

"Feels like more than two."

"So do you want to come over?" Was I begging? I hated begging. "You don't have to," I said, and suddenly tried to sound indifferent. I flapped a hand. "I mean...I'm not forcing you."

Jodi permitted herself a smile. "All right, Michael—don't get excited."

"I'm not getting excited."

"I'll come over. It sounds like fun."

When I got home that night Oz called, really bummed out, saying he'd made a mistake with Christie. I lay on my bed in the dark, listening to him on my cell phone.

"I tried something I shouldn't have," he said, "and she slapped me. Hard. She really belted me."

"Tried what?"

"We were alone at her house, watching TV, making out. Her parents were gone for the evening. Wouldn't be back till late. I worked my hand under her blouse..."

"Not cool, Oz."

"She kept pulling it away. I got frustrated. I told her she'd probably let you do more than touch her."

Swinging my feet to the floor, I sat up. "Oz, that was stupid."

"That's when she got pissed. She's like, 'I'm tired of guys pawing me.' I don't know if she meant you or not. Probably Kevin. I know she meant me."

"Didn't I tell you not to get involved? Keep it simple."

"Thing is, she kept asking me what kind of stuff you told me about her to make me try something with her."

"I didn't tell you anything."

"But she thinks you did. She's like, 'Did he say I'd be easy? Is that what he said?'"

"I never said anything like that—you told her I didn't, didn't you?"

"She wouldn't believe me."

I stood and started to pace my room. "Damn you, Oz."

"I thought I'd call and let you know. In case she comes down on you."

"Thanks a lot, Oz."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I thought I had a chance with her." He hesitated. "You want to do something over vacation? Skiing, maybe? You're not too pissed, are you?"

"Yes, I'm pissed!"

"How about we do something New Year's Eve? I don't want to go to a party, though. I don't think I'll be in a party mood."

Sagging back down on my bed, I said, "I'll think about it."

"You still pissed?"

"I'm still pissed! I said, and flipped my cell phone closed. Stupid Oz! I was having enough trouble understanding women. I didn't need another one—my ex-girlfriend—on my case.

I picked Jodi up from her grandparents' house on Thursday, December 20th, to bring her to my place for the evening. Seven P.M. A night to remember.

Mom had already left for her Christmas party. I hoped she'd stay out late. Late, late.

As I drove to Jodi's house, the moon and stars shone like polished chrome. All over town colored Christmas lights draped front porches, bushes, and small trees. The cold seemed to freeze the glow of the lights in midair.

I worked my fingers on the steering wheel. I was scared. All kinds of stray thoughts wandered into my brain about what might go wrong tonight. I'd burn the steaks. Or get them too rare. Jodi's pains might start—she was looking big. I mean, BIG.

I wondered if I should ask her again if the baby might be Luke's? But I didn't want to start a fight. Would she tell the truth or lie? How would I know the difference?

I wondered if I should call the evening off.

Finally, I resolved I'd simply show her a nice time. I'd be cool. Nothing emotional. Nor intimate. Everything relaxed.

                   

I showed Jodi around the house. The Jacuzzi and sauna; the family room with its bar, wide-screen plasma TV, and fireplace; the huge kitchen with an island—these impressed her most. I showed her the ceiling-high glistening Christmas tree in the living room that Mom and I had decorated.

"You, like, live in a mansion," Jodi said, as we stood in front of the tree. "You must love it here."

"I do. Dad built this house just for Mom and me."

She eyed the Christmas tree and the Nativity scene nestled below its branches in straw. "Hey, Michael. Know why the Three Wise Men weren't very wise at all?"

"Why?"

"They should've brought diapers."

I felt a big grin crossing my face. "You're a funny duck, you know that?"

"And I'm starting to waddle like one."

I took Jodi's hand, leading her back down a spiral stairway to the family room.

She wore maternity jeans and a pretty flower-print maternity smock. She was truly getting wide. Since she was in such a good mood, I thought I might tease her about being too wide for the spiral stairway. She might get stuck waddling down. But I decided that was a bad idea. Instead, I said, "I'll bet you miss being up north."

"This time of year the woods are beautiful filled with snow. The ice fishing's great—northern and walleye. I love snowmobiling. I'll be there for Christmas."

I turned at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at her. Why did that announcement disappoint me? "You will?"

"Uh-huh. I'm flying home Monday."

I lit a fire in the fireplace and tossed in a few hunks of mesquite. The flames leaped, crackled, and danced at first, filling the family room with their warmth, then settled down to a golden red glow.

We wrapped potatoes in aluminum foil and tucked them in close to the red coals. We kept turning the potatoes with a tongs and later poked them with a fork till they pierced easily, and we knew they were done. Then we broiled T-bone steaks in the fireplace on the swing-out grill.

You can't beat the aroma of steaks sizzling over a wood fire.

Mom had bought lettuce, carrots, cucumbers, radishes, and had made a tossed salad for us. She thought Jodi's coming over and my continuing involvement with her was great. I popped a cork on a bottle of Dad's red wine—Jodi wouldn't take even a tiny sip—and we hunched on the floor, eating in front of the fireplace. Christmas music from one of Dad's CDs drifted through the room—"Silent Night," "The Little Drummer Boy."

I downed a couple of glasses of wine. "I haven't eaten a steak like this," I said, "since we cooked them over an open fire at Ghost Bay."

Jodi smiled at the memory.

The fire cast a soft glow over her delicate features and blonde hair. Her recent weeks of pregnancy had painted roses in her cheeks, a special sparkle in her eyes. She said, "Remember when you tried to make popcorn in the wire popper over the fire? You held the popper too close to the fire and the popcorn went up in flames."

"Like a torch."

We laughed, and I polished off another glass of wine.

For sure, Jodi was fun to be with.

"I'm stuffed," she said. "I feel like I'm having twins. I've already gained ten pounds. Maybe more. I'm afraid to get on the scale. And I'm not due till May seventeenth."

She flinched, smiled, and flinched again. "I'm getting kicked." She sat back and smoothed her maternity smock out over her rounded belly. "Feel this. Maybe there's a football player in there."

I spread my fingers and placed my hand gently on her belly. She was so fragile and beautiful that when I thought about her carrying a child—our child?—a tender feeling washed over me.

A little thump brushed the palm of my hand.

Jodi winched

"I feel it!" I said. "A place-kicker, for sure."

Something stirred in me, something warm and totally paralyzing. Was it Jodi's nearness? My hand on her stomach? The wine? The heat from the fireplace?

Stupid me, I wanted to kiss her.

At the same moment, Jodi became self-conscious. She lifted my hand away from her stomach and struggled to her feet. "Let's do the dishes."

"All right," I said, my voice shaky. I hoisted myself up.

We carried the dishes, silverware, and glasses upstairs in one trip. I scraped our leftovers into the garbage disposal. Jodi rinsed and stacked the dishes and everything else in the dishwasher.

By the time she turned from the dishwasher, my heart was pumping like crazy. Me. Michael Panther. I was thinking stupid things: Love. Commitment. To hell with football and college. "What are you thinking?" I asked.

"About what?"

"About us," I said, and tried to swallow a lump in my throat.

"It's hot in here." Jodi's face flushed, and her voice turned breathy. "Oh, Michael..."

My heart stopped, then lurched.

We were close. Like I-could-kiss-her-right-now close.

Gripping her shoulders, every rational thought dissolving in my brain, I bent and pressed my mouth down on Jodi's. The scent of her perfume, lilacs—always lilacs—and the scent of her hair mingled in my nostrils. She placed her hands gently on each side of my face, inviting me to share a deep kiss. Our tongues greeted each other shyly, friends rediscovering their friendship. Her body heat was intense. Radiating. My blood raced.

"I don't even care if the baby isn't mine," I said happily. "I don't care, I really don't care..."

As I moved my hand to hold her chin with the crook of my finger for another kiss, my hand bumped her breast. The bump was an accident, but my greedy hand stopped to linger.

Jodi gave a startled gasp and shoved me back. "What did you say?" She skewered me with her eyes; color spotted her cheeks.

"I didn't mean to touch you. I know that was wrong. I'm sorry."

"What did you SAY?" Her face clenched. Like a fist.

"When? What? I don't even care if the baby isn't mine... It's true. I don't care. "

"What do you mean if the baby isn't yours?" The color in her cheeks rose. "Whose baby would it be if it's not yours?"

My chest tightened. Maybe this was the time to nail down the truth. "You tell me."

"You still think it's Luke's? After all this time, you still think it's Luke's?"

"Tell me! Did you do him when he was home on leave?"

She hurled a daggered look at me. "The baby's yours. You think I'm sleeping with every guy that shows up at Ghost Bay?"

"I didn't say that." I shook my head to clear it. Then, "I've got to go to the bathroom." I think I was feeling the aftereffect of the wine I'd drunk. I mean, I had to go bad. Really bad.

I stormed off down the hallway, made a right turn into the bathroom, flipped on the light, and slammed the door. How could Jodi get so mad so fast? Why wouldn't she tell me the truth: Yes, I did the guy.

I can handle the truth.

Coming Friday Chapter Eighteen: Be careful of what you want. Michael learns the truth. All of it.

Chapter Sixteen

"It's nice having young people in the house again," Jodi's grandmother said. "Jodi nearly went to stay with her aunt and uncle in Madison, but we're happy she decided to stay here."

"Oh?" I looked at Jodi. "You had a chance to go to school in Madison, Wisconsin?"

Chapter Sixteen

  

A week later on a Friday night, Jodi and I skated at VanderVeer Park with fifty or sixty other people under a silver moon surrounded by bright stars that never blinked. Lights on telephone poles hurled their beams on the frozen pond, and music for skaters, mostly waltzes, drifted through the night air.

On my rented skates, I was a skater who lurched, stumbled, waved my arms for balance, and then fell flat on my face. Or on my butt. That my skates were rented had nothing to do with my lack of skill.

Jodi was a different story.

Though pregnant, she flew around the pond on her grandmother's old skates, gliding and whirling and pirouetting like an Olympic contender. She was great.

When we tired, we sat on the big snow bank surrounding the edge of the rink and watched the other skaters, our breath making little steam clouds in the cold air.

After skating, as I drove Jodi home and parked in front of her grandparents' house, she asked me to come in. "My grandfather really wants to meet you."

The street was silent. The streetlights and the moon cast a silver gloss on the mounds of plowed and shoveled snow.

"For my autograph?" I asked. "Or to chew me out?"

"Autograph, probably. Actually, my grandparents are happy we're seeing each other."

"They don't think that you and I...that we...?"

"That we'll get married?"

I nodded.

"My grandparents are old-fashioned, so I guess that's what they think, but I wouldn't marry you, Michael. Ever."

I sat back in the seat and looked at her. The way she'd said it—snobbishly, as if I weren't good enough for her—stung. "Hey, I could make a good husband and father, if I wanted to."

"The if is too big." Jodi swung her door open to get out of the car. She never let me help with doors.

The inside of her grandparents' house smelled of baked goods, a friendly smell that seemed to invite me right in. Her grandparents bustled in the kitchen making cookies. Her grandmother pulled a tray of golden-brown ones from the oven and set them on the top of the stove to cool. The cookies were cutouts of Christmas trees, Santa Clauses, snowmen, and reindeer.

Her grandfather sat at the kitchen table peering through thick glasses, icing a batch of cookies with pink frosting. My mouth watered. My mom was beautiful, hard-working, and loving. But she was not a baker of pies, cakes, and cookies.

"Take some," Jodi's grandmother said. "Sugar cookies. There's plenty."

"Maybe just one," I said.

"We always start making Christmas cookies right after Thanksgiving. Freeze them. Then give them away to the church. The needy."

I grabbed an iced Christmas tree, then couldn't resist taking a snowman.

"So you're Michael Panther," Jodi's grandfather said, his pale green eyes huge and watery behind his glasses.

"Yes, sir."

"I remember you at Kennedy Elementary." He licked frosting off his thumb and forefinger. "You were big for your age even then. What are you now?

"Six-two. One-ninety-five."

"Got any speed? Any quickness?"

"Fair."

"You should be able to play somewhere."

"I hope so."

"Did Jodi tell you I was a principal?"

My mouth was full of cookie. I nodded.

"I told him, Grandpa," Jodi said for me.

"I watched you play flag football for the Kennedy Tigers. I knew you'd be a good high school player. Got college offers?"

"Yes, sir. Michigan. Penn State. Iowa."

"Iowa?" His eyes turned bright.

"My first choice."

"Iowa's good. Where do you want to play?"

"Tailback if I can. Or maybe just placekick. Or punt."

"What'll you major in?"

"Business. I'd like to get a MBA, eventually. Start my own business. But I don't know what yet. I'd like to work outdoors."

"You got the grades?"

"Yes, sir."

He nodded approvingly, as if I'd passed a test. Maybe a test to see if I qualified to be his granddaughter's husband. Height. Weight. Education. Goals.

He pointed. "Have another cookie. No need to be bashful."

I grabbed two more cookies, a Christmas tree and a reindeer.

Apparently, I'd passed the test.

"It's nice having young people in the house again," Jodi's grandmother said. "Jodi nearly went to stay with her aunt and uncle in Madison, but we're happy she decided to stay here."

"Oh?" I looked at Jodi. "You had a chance to go to school in Madison, Wisconsin?"

Madison was a big city, I knew. Its school district surely had a program for pregnant teen girls.

Jodi flushed. "Yes, but—well, you see, I'd never stayed with my aunt and uncle before."

"Did you talk to them? Ask them?"

"We're almost strangers. And Grandpa was having his eye surgery...he needed me..." Her voice trailed away.

"Oh, that was nothing," he said, waving his hand.

"Makes no matter," Grandma said, smiling. "We're so happy she came to stay with us."

"I'll bet," I said.

I flicked a glance Jodi's way, but her eyes avoided mine.

So...Jodi could have gone to school in Madison. She'd lied to me. At least, she'd made it sound as if she'd had no other choice but to come to school in Grandview. She'd never mentioned Madison as a possibility. Never. That was, at least, a lie of omission. Had she lied to me about Luke and herself? What other secrets was she keeping?

The thought that she was out to trap me loomed in my mind again, though she'd said not more than twenty minutes ago she'd never marry me. Apparently what she wanted was child support. She probably thought the friendlier we were the more money she'd be able to wring out of me.

I looked away from her. I felt tricked. Betrayed.

Or was I wrong? Jodi was here because she loved me. She wanted me to love her and the baby. Could that be?

Really, I didn't know what to think.

Confusion seized me again.

I'd enjoyed our eagle watching and skating, our talking and laughing. Yet no matter how attracted I felt to Jodi, doubt and mistrust always seemed to cloud the picture. But the bigger issue was this: I realized if the baby was mine and if I became totally involved with Jodi, I would surely lose my focus on football, college, and a career. Every dream I had would fade from view. Like an eagle disappearing in the sky. The eagles Jodi loved to watch.

This was scary.

When I drove away from Jodi's grandparents' house that night, I told myself I needed to back away from Jodi Jackson. Keep things simple. Like I'd told Oz. Keep. Things. Simple.

Coming Wednesday—Chapter Seventeen: Oz screws things up for Michael

Chapter Fifteen

Jodi said, "I'm going to be an environmental biologist, remember? My goals haven't changed. Reaching them might take longer, but that's all. They haven't changed—"

"Good for you."

"—just like yours haven't. The difference is I'll be having a baby."

Chapter Fifteen

The next morning, nearly frozen from the cold—the Mustang apparently needed a new thermostat and wasn't heating up very well—I picked Jodi up at 7:00 A.M., light barely breaking in the sky, the moon still up.

The overnight temp had dipped to five below.

I wore jeans, a flannel shirt, and my black-leather bomber jacket, but, man, I should have worn long underwear. I remembered my gloves but had forgotten my hat. Stupid!

Jodi popped into the car bundled in a hooded green parka and ski boots—I wore my worn-out Nikes. A cold gust of air followed her into the car. "Did we have to get up so early?" I shivered and tried to smother a frosty yawn.

"That's when eagles feed, early in the morning when the sun comes up."

I took her down to Credit Island in the Mississippi River.

In summer, people jam the island enjoying its softball diamonds and picnic areas. The down-river end of the island is a dense forest of oak, elm, and hickory. A wildlife sanctuary. I turned off River Drive onto the blacktopped, block-long causeway that leads to the island.

Snowplows had gouged a path through the foot-deep snow wide enough for one car. On the island, the plowed lane widened enough for oncoming cars to pass each other. The lane circled the island's perimeter.

"This is a perfect spot," Jodi said. "The lock and dam here in the Mississippi create open water, even if the rest of the river freezes. The eagles can roost in the tall trees on the island and those across the river and feed in the open pools."

"How do you know so much about eagles?"

Jodi said, "I'm going to be an environmental biologist, remember? My goals haven't changed. Reaching them might take longer, but that's all. They haven't changed—"

"Good for you."

"—just like yours haven't. The difference is I'll be having a baby."

I don't know if she meant to zing me or not, but her words felt like a zinger. Still, I decided not to try for a smartass reply. I wanted this adventure to be as pleasant as possible.

The morning turned brilliant with sunshine, the snow dazzling white, clinging everywhere to tree limbs. We weren't the only eagle watchers. A few others had parked their cars along the lane and had trudged through the snow to the edge of the riverbank and stood looking through binoculars, searching the sky.

Jodi and I piled out of my Mustang. I took her mittened hand, helping her a bit, as we crunched through the snow and brush.

The cold nipped my nose and cheeks and ears.

Jodi'd brought her grandfather's binoculars. She unzipped them out of the case and offered them to me. "You use them," I said, still shivering. "I don't even know what to look for."

She peered through the binoculars, adjusted them, and searched the sky for only a minute. "Look!" she shrieked. "Look...in the treetops across the river...those two dark forms... Oh, look...there's a pair in the sky!"

Sure enough, with a naked eye, I spotted two of the birds gliding into view, circling.

"Look!" Jodi repeated and handed me the binoculars.

With the glasses, I zeroed in on an eagle that started a swoop toward the water. I glimpsed the great bird's hooked beak, its white head, and its curved talons as it skimmed the water with a splash and snared a fish. I adjusted the binoculars and followed the bird while it winged to a treetop across the river where it perched.

As it gripped the tree limb with its talons, it also held the fish under its foot. Tearing with its beak, it ripped off chunks of flesh and gobbled them.

I scanned the treetops and noted two birds roosting. I handed the binoculars back to Jodi. "Impressive," I said, and meant it.

We watched the birds for nearly an hour.

They hovered, glided, swooped, and dived. Sometimes they even landed on the ice to devour their catch. A few dozen seagulls also circled in the sky, hoping to scavenge a morsel that an eagle dropped.

Finally Jodi noticed I was shivering like crazy, my nose dripping. "Would you like to go?" she asked.

"I'm an icicle." I wiped my nose on my sleeve, then held my gloved hands over my burning ears and stomped my frozen feet in the snow.

"The wind is always colder off the water. You should've dressed warmer."

I grabbed Jodi's mittened hand again and helped her struggle through the snow on the way back to the car. "I counted six pair of adults and three eaglets," she said.

"How can you tell the difference between the adults and the young ones?"

"The eaglets have brown heads, the adults white heads."

"No kidding?"

"You should develop interests other than football, Michael."

"You making fun of me?" I said it with a smile.

"Hey, Michael. Why do seagulls fly over the sea?"

"Why?" I said, and knew a Jodi-riddle was coming. I hadn't heard one in a long while.

"Because if they flew over the bay, they'd be called bay-gulls."

"That," I said, "is the worst riddle I've ever heard." But I couldn't stop grinning.

Jodi let go of my hand, picked up a mitt full of snow, and packed it into a snowball. I sprinted twenty yards away from her. When she threw the snowball, I ducked, making her miss. She ran for the car. I packed a snowball, and as she reached for the car door, I nailed her in the back with a looping toss. Good shot. I always thought I could've played quarterback.

We scrambled into my Mustang and slammed the doors.

"Eagle watching was fun," Jodi said as we drove away, the car's tires crunching in the snow.

"I'm starved. How about Tommy's Cafe for breakfast?"

"I didn't bring any money."

"My treat."

After I'd spent the morning freezing, Tommy's scrambled eggs, sausage patties, hash browns, toast, jelly and hot coffee smelled and tasted like home cooking. We both wolfed down our food and laughed a lot.

Being with Jodi was easy. Relaxing. Fun. Just like it had been at Ghost Bay. Like we'd known each other for a long time, from a time long ago. She didn't bug me about the baby. Didn't ask me if I was going to marry her. Nothing like that. And I didn't mention I still thought the baby might be born with red hair. Like Luke's.

It was as if we'd negotiated a friendly, unspoken truce.

I could still be her friend and not fall in love with her, couldn't I? I didn't have to get that involved. Even if the baby had black hair. Like mine. And a cleft in its chin. Like me. I still didn't have to fall in love with her. No way.

Coming Monday—Chapter Sixteen: Michael decides to back away from Jodi. He needs to keep things simple.

Chapter Fourteen

One problem with letting Jodi slip back into my life really bugged me: I could never get her out of my mind. It seemed I was thinking about her every second of the day—I should be thinking about schoolwork and scholarships.

Chapter Fourteen

"What would you like to do Thanksgiving Day?" Mom asked.

She sat at her dressing table painting her nails red. I watched from her bedroom doorway. The polish smelled like airplane glue. She was getting ready to go to work.

She works for the local radio and TV station, 1420 on your tuner, Channel 6 on your TV. She does voice-overs for commercials for local advertisers. She also models dress and coats for locally produced fashion catalogs. She's really good at what she does and loves her work.

She has a degree in Theater Arts and taught high school for a couple of years. Then I came along, and she decided she needed to be a full-time mom. Seems like when I was younger I was a big troublemaker. Still am, I guess.

"Thanksgiving's not till next week," I said.

"It'll be here in no time. Everything seems to be happening at once. Christmas commercials to tape tonight—we're behind schedule. Thanksgiving is right around the corner. What would you like to do?"

Mom stopped painting a moment and popped an M&M into her mouth. She'd quit smoking.

That had been my only major complaint about my mom, smoking. But a week ago I'd caught her dragging a plastic garbage bag out from under the sink. She held the bag open with one hand and with the other hand, one by one, she dropped ashtrays into it. Plastic, tin, cut glass—all ashtrays crashed into the bottom of the bag. She's gone crazy, I'd thought. "What are you doing?"

"I've quit smoking!"

"Since when?"

"Since today." She smiled proudly. "I went to a hypnotist this morning, and he said the first thing I should do after I got home is throw away every ashtray in the house."

Since Mom had given up smoking, she'd set little dishes of M&M candies around the house. She nibbled on the candy whenever she felt a nicotine fit coming on. She was afraid of getting fat, but I couldn't see that she'd gained an ounce.

"Well," she repeated, "what would you like to do on Thanksgiving?"

"Nothing special."

Mom hadn't cooked turkey, dressing, sweet potatoes, cranberries, and pumpkin pie for years. We could never eat all the leftovers. Dad always took us out.

Mom dipped her nailbrush into the tiny red bottle. "Would you like to eat at home?" She paused before touching the brush to her nail. "Invite Jodi?"     

I leaned against the doorjamb and frowned. I'd never given such an idea a thought. "I don't think so. She'll probably want to spend the day with her grandparents."

"We could invite them all over."

"No way."

"Maybe it's time we meet her grandparents. Someday we'll all be family." Mom blew on her fingernails, and then inspected them. "Have you been seeing Jodi?"

"A bit. I took her to the doctor that one Friday morning when we didn't have school because of the snow. I helped her with algebra. We talk a little at school."

"Are you and she...making plans?"

"Nothing serious. We're friends. It's like we're just getting to know each other."

"Have you talked about the baby? What Jodi'll do after it's born? What you'll do?"

Why all these questions? I scratched the back of my neck. I felt uneasy. "She's going to keep the baby, that's all I know for sure."

"Travis and Lois agree?"

"That's what Jodi says."

"You and Jodi have a very serious responsibility, Michael."

"I realize that."

Mom returned the brush to the bottle, screwed the top down.

Shifting my weight against the doorjamb, I said, "I'm not really sure the baby's mine." A stubborn streak gripped me. Man, I wasn't going to let myself be pushed around. "I mean, I'm not saying it is someone else's, but it could be."

"You really think she's lying to you?"

"It's a possibility."

"Jodi seems to be a very forthright young lady." Mom blew on her fingernails again. "I think she'd tell you the truth."

"That night when she called me and said she was pregnant, I automatically assumed I was to blame. I didn't start having doubts until after I hung up, and I remembered Luke, that guy we met when we left Ghost Bay. He was her boyfriend in high school. You remember meeting him—we talked about him before."

"He seemed polite. A nice-looking young man. Have you asked her about him?"

"She told me he was home on leave from the Navy, and they dated, but if I thought the baby was his, I was wrong. I asked her how she knew, and she's like, 'I know, that's how I know.' That's what she said: 'I know.'"

Mom popped three M&Ms into her mouth. "She wants you to trust her, Michael. It would mean a lot to her."

I threw my hands up. "But this baby might have red hair."

"Where is Luke now?"

"Aboard a carrier in the Persian Gulf. She may never see him again, so she's saying I'm the baby's father."

Mom pondered that a moment. She stood and peered at herself in her mirror. Fluffed her hair. Then she turned and faced me. "Michael, I think you're hiding from the truth, that's why you don't want Jodi and her grandparents over for Thanksgiving."

I stood straight. "This baby might have red hair," I said again. Why doesn't Mom understand?

"Listen to me. You're avoiding taking responsibility because, if you're the father, your plans for college and football will be in serious jeopardy. Isn't that right?"

"I'm not avoiding the responsibility—I just want to make sure the responsibility is actually mine."

"You're afraid of how much your life might change, while Jodi's has already changed. Drastically."

"I've worked hard for grades and a chance for a scholarship. I—"

Mom's hand shot out, fingers spread wide, silencing me. "It's a serious situation you've gotten yourself into, Michael."

"You don't have to keep telling me that."

"Jodi and the baby come first."

"I know."

"Just keep it in mind."

"Mom, please..."

Then she smiled at me. "But I won't force you to have Jodi and her grandparents over for Thanksgiving."

"Thanks."

Mom and I decided we'd eat Thanksgiving dinner at the Machine Shed, like always, just as if Dad were present. And as I turned from Mom's doorway, an astonishing question clunked me on the head. Could the baby have red hair and still be mine? Travis's hair was a faded red, almost gray. Jodi and her mom were blonde. When the sun shone on Jodi's blonde hair, it sometimes appeared reddish. Like a strawberry blonde. Maybe I shouldn't be questioning Jodi's word at all.

    

One problem with letting Jodi slip back into my life really bugged me: I could never get her out of my mind. It seemed I was thinking about her every second of the day—I should be thinking about schoolwork and scholarships. And no matter how suspicious I was if her, I couldn't think about her without feeling a twinge of excitement. Finally, I caved in. I called Jodi the Friday after Thanksgiving and asked her for a date. I mean, you know, just so we could talk. Like Mom suggested.

I mean, I really hadn't seen her or talked to her since she'd stopped me in the hall at school and told me thanks again for helping her with algebra. She'd earned a B+ on her test.

After she came to the phone and we went through the usual questions of "How are you?", "What's happening?", I asked her if she'd like to do something Saturday night.

"Do what?"

"Go out, a movie or something. There's a rock concert at the Civic Center. Or I can find a kegger."

"I don't drink. Besides, I'm pregnant. Remember?"

"Right."

"Who said I wanted to go out with you, anyway?"

"Hey, look," I said, "what are friends for? A friend wouldn't let a friend sit around home every weekend doing nothing, would he?"

"Who says I'm doing nothing every weekend?"

"Got a date Saturday night?"

"Maybe."

Jealousy tweaked me. Completely unexpected. "Who you going out with?" My voice sounded gruff.

"I don't have to tell you."

"You're dating in your condition?"

"What condition? I'm pregnant, Michael. I don't have a disease."

A long silence followed.

I didn't know what to say.

"All right," Jodi said at last. "I'm not going out with anyone, and I'd like to do something. I'd like to go eagle watching."

Eagle watching!

What kind of thing was that to do? I knew people around here went down to the Mississippi River at Credit Island this time of year to watch eagles and count them, but I didn't actually know anyone who did that. Eagle watching had always sounded pretty stupid to me. I mean, watching birds—c'mon. Give me a break. What's with that?

"Okay...right," I said. "We'll go eagle watching. Sounds like fun."

Coming Friday—Chapter Fifteen: Michael decides he can be Jodi's friend—a good friend—but not fall in love with her.