"Cary, if your father knows you've come in here--."
"Shh," he said, putting his fingers on my lips. "I can't sleep. I keep thinking I'm going to lose you."
"You won't," I said. His fingers moved over my chin and down my neck. I could feel the thump, thump, thump of my heart chasing my blood through my veins. My body began to tingle in all my secret places. Cary lifted the blanket away and brought his face closer, laying his cheek on my stomach and then bringing his lips up to kiss the small valley between my breasts.
"Cary," I whispered weakly. His left hand moved down over my shoulders and across my breasts to my stomach. He rose gently and slipped in under my blanket. The bed springs groaned and we both froze because it sounded so loud. "Cary, you better--"
"Let me just lie beside you for a while," he pleaded. I tried to back away, but it was as if there were two voices inside me: the voice of my body that wanted his touch and the voice of my conscience that clamored for me to be good. Soon, my body's voice grew louder, drowning out the warnings and the pleading. I felt my resistance crumble. His lips found mine. We kissed and held each other tightly. His hand was on my thigh, inching toward the hem of my nightgown.
Weakly, I urged him to stop, but it was as if I wanted to stifle my own voice; there was barely any force behind my words. It wasn't until I felt him between my legs that an electric chill of panic shot down my spine.
"Just let me get close to you, please," he begged. My resistance collapsed like a sand castle at high tide and he was pressing forward. The bed groaned again and then we heard a door open and close in the hallway.
Cary and I became paralyzed, both of us hardly breathing. There was a gentle knock. Cary slid quickly off the bed and to the floor. The door opened and Aunt Sara appeared.
"Melody, dear, are you still awake?" she called in a loud whisper.
I didn't speak, but she stood there, silhouetted in the hall light.
"I just--felt bad about not getting to speak to you after you returned from Olivia's," she muttered, more to herself than to me. I remained silent, actually holding my breath. My heart drummed so loudly, I thought she would feel the vibrations if she didn't hear the beat.
But after another minute, she backed out and closed the door softly.
Neither Cary nor I moved for a long moment. Then he got back into bed with me and started to caress me again. I put my hand over his and stopped him. "You better go back to your room, Cary."
He moaned.
"Please. I'm too frightened."
"All right," he said.
"Be careful she doesn't see you leave, or your father hear you in the hallway."
"I will," he said, his voice dripping with disappointment. He leaned over to kiss me goodnight. I love you, Melody," he said. "I really do."
"I know," I said. It sounded almost sad. I hadn't meant it to sound that way, but it made him hesitate. "You love me, too, don't you, Melody?"
"Yes," I said, truly believing I did. It felt more like love than anything I had ever felt for any other boy, and no one had become a part of me as quickly as Cary had.
"I don't trust my grandmother," he said before leaving. "She probably knows how we feel about each other and she wants to do something to stop it."
"She can't," I said. "Not even she is that powerful."
Through the darkness I could see him smile, his face was that bright with happiness at my response.
"Good night," he said again and quietly slipped out of my room.
I waited, holding my breath, hoping and praying neither Uncle Jacob nor Aunt Sara caught him leaving. The silence continued and I let out my trapped breath.
Maybe moving into Grandma Olivia's wasn't such a bad idea after all, I thought.
Something had to put the brakes on this roller coaster Cary and I were riding. I had just proved to myself that I certainly couldn't.
To calm my raging blood, I practiced the meditation techniques Holly had taught me and soon I found the doorway to sleep.
Once again it was Holly instead of Kenneth who came for me in the morning. Cary was already off to work and May to school. Aunt Sara was on her way upstairs to bring Uncle Jacob a second cup of coffee and the morning paper.
"I've got a lot to do today," she told me. "Olivia always looks at the house through a microscope and she'll be here before lunch."