While the men washed pots and pans and the other women “took a load off their feet”, Addie went out on the steps to breathe deeply of the fresh air; the first day of spring and daffodils were just about to reveal their frilly blossoms. A couple of the children playing on creosoted logs marking parking spaces saw her and shouted, “Grandma, watch!” and proceeded to balance on the logs, walking their lengths without falling off. She waved and called her encouragement, thinking,

“They’re making their grown-up memories.”

Church socials were a big part of her memories and would be part of theirs, too: getting to stay outside until dusk playing Lemonade or Red Rover (she made sure her children and grandchildren knew all the “old-timey games” as they called them), while inside the women served up the food and cut generous wedges and squares of dessert to set out on the long table; and the men kept iced tea glasses and coffee cups filled and places cleared for the newcomers.

For no reason - or maybe because of the light, not yet dark enough to make out the stars, but shadowy enough to melt into the darker places and feel concealed - a sudden memory of one such occasion floated up through the layers that had buried it.

There had been a lilac bush in the churchyard - old, with sprawling branches, and when in bloom, scent-laden and heavy with flowerets, its loveliness and perfume overwhelming the senses. Standing there on the steps, she could smell the lilacs and the past became the present and the sounds of children playing faded...

They were playing Hide-and-Seek and Addie ran to hide under the lilac bush and found someone had already concealed himself there. It was John Howard Clement and he put his finger to his lips and reached for her hand to pull her down beside him. She resisted for a moment, then let him put his arm around her shoulders while he scooted closer so they took up less space. John Howard was not someone her mother would have wanted her sitting with under the lilac bush, let alone sit that close to, but after she had managed to ignore a niggling little guilty feeling, she enjoyed the warmth she could feel from being pressed into the hollow of his arm.

John Howard Clement was a year older than she was and according to the other girls, had “Roman hands and Russian fingers” - in other words he had a reputation for being “fast”. Of all the boys, why did he have to be in her favorite hiding-place?

“Silly!” she thought; he knew about it and had hidden there on purpose. Addie decided she wouldn’t wait to be “found” and started to get up, but John Howard tightened his arm around her shoulders when he felt her start to get to her feet.

“Wait,” he whispered. “I’m not going to hurt you. You believe all the stories you hear?”

Addie looked down, feeling her face get hot. It was too dark for him to see her blushing; in fact she realized with a little twinge of concern it was really dark now - there were fireflies out! The grownups would be finished cleaning up and stacking the chairs from the funeral parlor to be returned tomorrow, and her mother would be looking for her.

She made out shadowy figures running past, trying to get to base before they were tagged, before “It” spotted them.

“Addie?” John Howard sounded funny, like he had been crying or something, his voice all husky. “Have you ever been kissed?”

Addie just shook her head and didn’t resist when John Howard turned her face up to his. She let him kiss her and was surprised by the softness of his lips; she could feel the fuzz on his upper lip when he pressed his mouth to hers and all she could think of was, “I’ve let John Howard Clement kiss me and I wanted to be ‘Sweet sixteen and never been kissed’.”

They emerged from under the lilac bush and Addie smelled rain in the air...

It’s starting to rain, thought Addie. She called, “Maggie - Howie - your mother will be looking for you. Come on in now - you can’t even see what you’re doing it’s so dark out here...” and she smiled to herself.

The End



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