had carved out all the little scraps of wood, I closed my eyes and ran my fingertips across each letter of her name. I leaned forward and smelled the purpleheart wood. The fragrance of it filled my head with a cloud of smoky sweetness, as when Marlene boiled sugarcane into molasses.
âThis is what her skin must smell like,â I murmured to Celeste. I pressed my cheek against the smooth, slightly dusty board. I breathed deep, then rolled my head to one side and kissed the wood.
âJack!â Pete yelled from his bedroom window. âTime for dinner.â I jerked my head up and ran my fingers through my hair. My heart pounded. Not from love, but from fear of being caught kissing a plank. If anyone, especially Betsy, or worse, Anne, had seen me, I would die. Love was not something I was prepared to share with the world. Love was a dark secret, like a ship lost undersea.
âCome on, Celeste,â I said and picked her up. We rubbed noses. Then she squirmed and leapt out of my arms.
Â
It didnât take long for Dad to zero in on my secret love ship that was lost under the sea. He shined a spotlight on it immediately after the food was served.
âDo you have a crush on Anne?â he asked directly. âBecause someone has been using my Old Spice deodorant. They rubbed a new stick down to a nub in less than a week.â
I blushed crimson and stared at the carrots on my plate. I couldnât look at Anne. How did he know I used his deodorant? Betsy must have tipped him off. She had been sniffing the air around me as I left the bathroom after washing my hands. I pulled my elbows close to my sides. I did smell a little spicy.
âIt doesnât matter if he has a crush on Anne,â Betsy said. âShe likes someone else. Someone more mature.â
Who? I desperately wanted to know but didnât dare ask. Whatever I did, I couldnât let anyone know I was in love. I looked at Pete. He flashed Anne a smile and coyly cocked his head to one side. Oh no, I thought. Not him too.
âI think Pete is cute,â Anne said and gave him a charming smile. She was just teasing. But Pete acted like he was sprinkled with fairy dust. He grinned like a deranged pixie and slid down in his seat.
Iâll crush him, I thought.
Fortunately, Mom changed the subject. âWe have to go shopping tomorrow,â she said to Anne. âI spoke with your mother today and she said they have the boat up in dry dock but all of your clothes and school books and ⦠well, just about everything was ruined by the water. She said it will be another week by the time they patch the hole but we better get a move on in order to replace all of your things.â
âMay I come?â Betsy asked.
âOf course,â Mom replied.
A little voice in me was crying out. Can I come? Can I come? Oh, please.
âJack,â Mom said. âYou can stay home with the baby.â
âCan I come?â Pete asked. Mom thought about it. âSure,â she said. âYou can help us carry the bags.â
After dinner Dad asked me to step outside.
âLet me give you some advice, son. Women like two kinds of men. You either have to be the totally honest, up-front kind who says exactly what is on your mind. Or you have to be the cute puppy-dog type who they want to take care of. Those are your two choices in life. Naturally, I think you should be the totally honest, up-front type, like me. The puppy-dog types get a bath once a week, some flea powder, and a pretty ribbon tied very tight around their necks, if you know what I mean.â He winked.
I didnât know what he meant about the ribbon. But I knew right away that I was the puppy-dog type. I would have been in heaven if she scratched my ears, patted me on the head, and said âGood boy.â I would eat dog food if she fed it to me. I knew I was lovesick, but, as they say, only her kiss will cure me.
âThanks, Dad,â I