Joshua's Folly (8 page)

Marisa smiled. That did describe him to a T.

“And I love,” he added softly, “a California girl sittin’ next to me late at night in a dark truck on a moonlit night with a two hour drive ahead of us.” He gave her knee a squeeze and she responded in kind. “Well, what do you think? Am I scaring you away?” he asked.

“On the contrary, you may never get rid of me. I might just stay forever.”

“Hmmmmm…a beautiful girl who wants to stay at my house forever. What a dilemma.”

The rest of the ride home was filled with stories from their childhoods. Their conversation remained light and easy. But their hands held onto each other tightly sending a completely different message. Marisa knew there was something between them. His interest was palpable.

Upon their arrival at the ranch, they put Bethany to bed. It took both of them to get her lifeless, sleepy form into pajamas and under the covers. After they were done, Josh glanced at the clock. “It’s two-thirty in the mornin’. I believe it’s the perfect time for hot chocolate,” he told her with a raise of his eyebrows.

“It sure is,” Marisa answered with delight, pleased that he remembered.

They spent the next hour sipping hot chocolate and continuing their conversation from the car. They sat at the breakfast nook, heads close together, whispering so as not to awaken Constance.

It was four in the morning before they turned in for the night—or what was left of it.

–5–

They didn’t have breakfast the next day till mid-morning. All three of them were dragging from their late night. It didn’t damper their inordinately cheerful moods, however.

“Marisa,” Josh asked, “What would you like on your breakfast burrito?”

There were several selections. Constance had outdone herself.

“Or is that a
serious question
?” he asked, using her own words.

“It
is
a very serious question. Don’t laugh. It has to have the perfect amount of each ingredient or else it just isn’t good.”

“I give, show me.”

Marisa began to layer her burrito with each ingredient and Josh copied her moves exactly, followed by Bethany, who grinned from ear to ear mischievously. When Marisa finished her creation with a generous handful of grated cheese and two heaping dollops of sour cream, Josh balked.

“Seriously?”

“It’s the most important part.” Their burritos were so large, Bethany couldn’t even fit her mouth around it, no matter how hard she tried. Breakfast turned into a raucous affair as they laughed so hard, they could hardly eat, much less take a bite and swallow. In the end, Josh said it was the best burrito he’d ever eaten.

“Are you avoiding our morning debate, Joshua Kensington? Are you using food as a distraction?”

“Absolutely not, Marisa Michaels.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Okay, here it goes.” He chuckled under his breath. “You’re gonna love this one. Should the toilet seat stay up or down?”

“Are these topics really in the paper or are you making them up?” she accused.

“No lie, they’re in the paper. It’s an ongoing article about humorous debate topics.”

“Humorous being the key word here. That explains everything. I don’t have to ask what side of the debate you’re going to take. It’s a distinctly male/female argument.”

Josh started in right away. “It should just stay up. Why bother closing it? We just have to put it back up again. Why not save ourselves a little effort and make life easy. Leave it up for quick and easy access. This is why men sometimes miss the designated target. They’re too busy lifting the lid instead of aiming properly.”

Instead of coming back with an immediate argument, Marisa couldn’t help but laugh. It was such a silly thing to debate. “Okay,” she said, but then laughed again.

“You’re stalling,” Josh accused. “Feeling a little nervous about losing this one, Michaels?”

“Absolutely not, Kensington. Okay, here’s the deal. While a toilet is a handy and necessary…appliance in our homes, it doesn’t mean we want to look at or see into it every time we enter the bathroom. The seat up says, ‘hey, place pee here.’ The toilet down says, ‘hey, I’m a posh bathroom where people make themselves presentable to the world.’ The seat up screams ‘help me, I haven’t been put away correctly, please close me.’ It gives an unkempt look to a bathroom. It says, ‘the people who live here are lazy. Check their toothpaste, it doesn’t even have lids.’ It’s an open advertisement that says, ‘we pee on a regular basis.’ And who wants to know about that? We all want to pretend it doesn’t happen. So, we should all close the lid and pretend we are civilized human beings that don’t ever experience bodily functions.”

Josh’s expression remained deadpan for several moments. Then he burst out laughing. “I finally get it,” he said. “You make a good point.”

“So I win?”

“You win that one, Marisa. I have nothing more to say on the subject. Your intellect has left me speechless.”

“I’m so proud. Can we debate something with a little more substance next time?”

“I don’t know. You never know how many marriages could’ve been saved had you been there to explain it to the husband.”

“You’re not making me feel better.”

Bethany giggled at their banter, listening intently to every word they said. Marisa wasn’t sure how much of the conversation she understood, but she’d guess that it was more than they realized.

Josh surprised her then by asking, “Marisa, would you like to go out on a ride this afternoon? How about while Bethany takes her nap?”

Together
,
just the two of us? Alone? Really?
Marisa hid her exuberant thoughts. “I’d love to,” she replied, proud of herself for sounding cool and collected.

While Bethany colored, Marisa contemplated over what the afternoon would hold. Visions of the two of them riding their horses across the plains in slow motion—huge smiles on their faces—wandered through her mind. They’d laugh heartily at nothing in particular except the sheer joy of being together. They’d stop somewhere, Josh would help her off Jasper and take her into his arms, her body slowly sliding down his…

“Marisa, do you like this color?” Bethany asked, interrupting her fantasy.

It was a black-grey color called, “Outer Space.” “Not really, but I like the name. Very clever.”

“What’s your favorite?”

Marisa studied several crayons. Knowing it would make Bethany happy, she replied, “I’m gonna have to go with Razzle Dazzle Rose.” It was a fluorescent hot pink. “Who names these colors? I want their job,” Marisa joked.

Bethany said in all seriousness, “Me too.”

Marisa should’ve known.

Once Bethany went down for her nap, Marisa and Josh went out for their ride as promised. Josh showed her some of his favorite spots on the property. It was beautiful in its own way. It wasn’t really completely flat land. It deceived the eye. At times, the mesquite dotted plain descended into slight rolling hills with the occasional ravine. It made the hills of California look more like mountains in comparison, but they were small hills just the same. When they came across a small creek, Josh asked if she’d like to sit for awhile. She agreed and as she dismounted Jasper and tied him to a tree, she realized that she’d forgotten to think about how in love with him she was. But as they sat next to the babbling creek she became very aware of him. He lay down on the soft grass with his hands behind his head. She followed suit and they lay together looking at the blue sky with not a trace of clouds to be seen. It was utterly relaxing.

“I love it here, Josh. This place is amazing. None of this would have happened without your vision.”

Josh turned to look at her and she met his gaze. “Thank you, Marisa.” They smiled at each other. When their smiles died, a few awkward moments passed before they resumed their sky watching.

“Can I ask you a question? And don’t say, ‘you just did,’ please.”

“Guess you’re on to me,” Marisa responded playfully. “Sure. Anything. Except my age. We women like to keep that information to ourselves.”

“Hmmmm, let’s see, November the first. Twenty-four. Five-foot-five. Greenest eyes I’ve ever seen. And I’d say about one hundred and ten pounds. Am I right?”

“My secrets are all out. What did you want to know?” she asked, this time serious.

“Why you don’t call Mary, mother?”

Marisa took a deep breath. “That’s a fair question. One that, surprisingly, not very many people ask me. I’ve always called her Mary. Guess everybody thinks we’re one of those ‘new age’ families, young and hip. In actuality, it was on one of my first nights in her home that Mary sat me down and told me that I already had a wonderful mother and she didn’t want to take her place in my heart. She said she didn’t expect me to call her mother, that I could call her Mary, but that she would like to be my mother more than anything else in the world. She doesn’t know it, but that was the night she entered my heart and she has never left. At the time, I’d just lost my real mother and I was still mourning her loss in my life. I couldn’t imagine calling someone else mother. As the years passed, when I was upset about something, I’d often slip and call her mom and she’d always smile at me, but she’s never asked me to call her mom. I know that I could if I wanted to though. It just seemed a moot point, I guess. Now that I think about it, now that I’m older, I realize that she deserves the title of mother. It must have hurt her to relinquish it. She wanted to be a mother so much. She’s the most selfless person I know. Someone was watching over me when Mary came into my life.”

Josh turned over onto his side and propped his head up with his elbow. Marisa looked up at him, concentrating on keeping her breathing even. They studied each other somberly. “And Mary is lucky to have you,” he told her. He continued to look upon her and Marisa didn’t look away. Her heart started to beat a little faster.

“Why don’t you call Mary, Aunt Mary?” she asked.

He shrugged, “Guess we’re a new age family, young and hip.” Marisa shoved his shoulder and he willingly fell over onto his back, laughing. “I don’t know. Just never did. We’re pretty casual around here. Like I said, she was more like a mother to me. Basically, she raised me until I was twelve.”

“Well, you can’t have her, she’s mine now,” Marisa told him lightheartedly.

“What?” he said, feigning hurt feelings. “Take that back…” he said as he started to tickle her stomach, her sides, and under her arms. Marisa knew she surprised him when she literally crumpled into laughter. Her legs curled up, she couldn’t catch her breath, and she couldn’t even talk.

She was extremely, agonizingly ticklish.

Josh seemed to find her helpless state hilariously funny and continued his onslaught. When tears started to trickle from the corners of her eyes, he relented.

“You’re just a little bit ticklish,” he said through his laughter. “I’ve found your Achilles heel.”

She wiped at her eyes, “I hate being tickled with a passion.” But the smile on her face betrayed her. “My mom used to play this game with me. She called it ‘I Promise.’ It was absolute torture for someone who hates being tickled and yet I never could make myself give in. She’d tackle me to the ground—keep in mind this was all done in fun—hold down my arms and tell me to say,
‘I promise.’
Of course, I never gave in and said it right away. So she would tickle me until I gave in and said,
‘I promise.’
Then she would make me say things like,
‘I promise that I will clean the toilet three times a day’
or
‘I promise that I will mop the floors every night at midnight.’
It was always some ludicrous chore. It was so hard for me to even say the words as I could hardly speak while being tickled. And I never gave in and said the right words, so the tickling always ensued. My mom was always fun like that, she liked to goof around. Sometimes it was pure torture, but I loved it all the same.” She turned to him. “You wouldn’t understand, you’re much too stern and serious,” she said with a wicked smile. In all actuality, he was anything but stern or serious.

His only response was to let out his breath and say, “Marisa, I owe you an apology.”

“For what?”

“This!” he said as he suddenly straddled her, held down her arms and said, “Say, I promise.”

Marisa screamed and fought to free her arms, but he was too strong for her. She was completely at his mercy—and found it was not such a bad thing. “After I told you that story, you’re going to use it against me?”

“Absolutely. You asked for it. Say, I promise,” he repeated.

They were both breathing raggedly from their struggle as he hovered over her with a smile on his face. “Never,” she told him bravely and then screamed and laughed wildly at the tickling that ensued. She finally screamed the word ‘I promise’ and the awful torture stopped. She tried to catch her breath as he held her arms over her head and his eyes glittered as he said, “…to never call Joshua stern and serious again.” He leaned even closer to her. “Say it or suffer the consequences.”

Even though Marisa hated being tickled, she loved every minute of being this close to Josh. “I promise…to never…” she said slowly.

“Keep going, you’re doin’ good,” he goaded.

“…ever…”

“C’mon, spit it out.”

“…tell Joshua any of my secrets again!” she yelled. She screamed and squealed at the tickling that inevitably followed. This time he was merciless and she couldn’t catch her breath at all to utter a single word.

When he finally stopped and held her arms again, it took her a minute to recover. “Are you okay?” he asked, showing just a little bit of sympathy.

“I can’t breathe,” she whispered.

“I think you’ve had enough. You’re off the hook, for now anyway,” he remarked ominously.

They smiled at each other and then their smiles very slowly died. They looked into each other’s eyes and were suddenly very aware of the fact that he was on top of her and holding down her arms.
A most compromising position.
All at once, Marisa felt as though she couldn’t breathe for very different reasons. He started to say something and then stopped himself. He leaned in a little closer for a second and she thought he was going to kiss her, but then he seemed to think better of it. He rolled over onto the ground and let out his breath heavily. “I’m too old for this.” Neither one of them said anything for the next several minutes.