by Jules Barker
Laurel felt a small drop of water hit her forehead. Then she heard the plink of a drop hit her handlebars. She looked back to the window of the store and her gaze shifted to her reflection. Yellow sundress, turquoise bike, light brown hair frizzed around her face but going limp in the drizzle while she watched. Pathetic.
She put a foot on the pedal and pushed off. She wasn’t sure whether she was upset or sad, but either way the emotion fueled her uphill climb as she neared the house.
She haphazardly perched her bike under the eaves, kicked off her shoes, dropped her bag by the door, and fell face first onto the couch.
When she couldn’t breathe, she rolled over and stared at the ceiling where the chandelier should go. Would go, once she reordered it.
Through the door, her bedroom called to her in its cozy glory.
A baby smile played on her lips. Soon it would be her upgraded, deluxe, cozy, gorgeous master suite.
She just had to survive three weeks of Nate. Here. Working in her bedroom. Liking someone else. Confusing her with his stupid charm and his stupid magnetism that attracted every woman on the island and made her feel totally not jealous.
She picked up a pillow and shoved it into her face while she groaned.
13
Men Have Feelings, Too
Laurel was glad she had shifts at the store because otherwise she’d find excuses to sit home and watch Nate be a handyman all day long.
She sat cross legged on the couch and watched him work on the porch stairs through the open door.
“If you’re going to stare, why not come help?” Nate asked, voice muffled.
“I’m supervising! Besides, I’m the one paying you, remember?”
Laurel’s phone dinged with a text from Simon. She shoved the phone under a pillow.
It had been six days since he assigned her to “Operation Wingwoman” and he’d been pestering her for information ever since. She hadn’t even seen Nate that much! He’d started work on the cottage on Friday, then he was off for the weekend. Today was only Monday. What did he expect? And it’s not like she saw Nate often. He did drop off hot chocolate and pastries twice. But there was only time for idle chit chat.
Today she was off work at three, however, and Nate was still hard at work. Perfect time to dig for information. If only it didn’t make her feel like she’d swallowed a lump of mud. She’d much rather sit here and appreciate the spread of Nate’s shoulders as he picked up a plank of wood. Or his corded forearms as he pushed it through the table saw. She tilted her head to the side appreciatively. It was all platonic, of course. As a fully grown woman, she could appreciate the art and strength of a man’s physique without turning him into an object of lust. Especially if he was just a friend.
A faint ding sounded from under the pillow where she’d shoved her phone. Fine, Simon. Fine. I won’t sit here and appreciate our friend. She pushed off of the couch and grabbed a pitcher of lemonade from the fridge. Southern women had a trick or two worth stealing.
She propped the newly working screen door open with her hip. “Need a break?”
She poured two glasses but opted to lean against the railing instead of sitting at the chairs around the small table at the corner of the porch. Nate took his glass and downed half of it in big gulps.
My, he was thirsty! Laurel watched a drop of sweat trace his hairline as he tilted his head back to drink. A similar drop of condensation slid down the glass toward his lips. Oh my. Laurel had clearly been appreciating the art too long.
She quickly sipped her lemonade, then sputtered as it went down the wrong pipe. She moved away as Nate held up a hand to pat her back. “Fine! I’m… fine.” She coughed again. “Need more?”
She refilled Nate’s glass for him to draw attention away from her spazzy inability to drink gracefully.
Laurel leaned against the corner railing to give herself some distance from Nate. “Hey, if the steps and door are fixed, maybe I could finally get a porch swing installed out here.”
Nate nodded. “It wouldn’t be hard. I could take care of that for you. What about the big swing in the tree? I noticed it wasn’t there anymore. Did you take it down?”
Laurel shrugged. “No, it broke. Probably after you left.”
“Man, you loved that swing. You’d be in it for hours. I remember asking you once what you liked about it. Do you remember what you said?”
“No.” Did she want to remember?
“You told me that it was easier to imagine if you were moving. That swinging made the world more blurry and that made it better for daydreaming.”
Laurel felt her cheeks pink. Of course. She remembered that was why she’d liked it, but didn’t remember she’d told anyone. The swing had been her escape. When friends didn’t want to play fairies or pirate adventures. When they didn’t want to build a secret fort or do crafts. When they didn’t want to play with her at all and she was lonely... Laurel could do some of those things alone, but sometimes she had to escape to her imagination. She thought about her love of riding her bike downhill, flying. “Yeah. I guess that’s true. It’s still true.”
“You were a cute kid.”
“Thanks. So, um, how are you settling in? Back on the island where you grew up?”
“It’s nice. Coming back… some things are the same, but some things are very different.” He cast a glance at Laurel.
“Like what?” She wanted to know how things looked with the eyes of someone returning. She’d never left, so she wouldn’t know.
Nate cleared his throat. “Well. Mr. Norman isn’t as scary as he seemed. He’s just an old man who protects his garden.”
Laurel laughed.
“And,” Nate continued, “the ferry isn’t as exciting as it used to be. The tourists aren’t as interesting as they used to be. The wear and tear around the edges of things shows more. The reality shows more.” Nate turned, bracing his hand on the railing and looking over the town below. “But the mountains are still as magnificent. The vibrancy of a town that’s kept its heart this long is inspiring. And the people here mean more to me than they did before.”
Laurel looked over the town below, smiling to herself. Maybe it didn’t take leaving and coming back to see the beauty in the island. That’s what she saw, too. Maybe it just took growing up and looking with new eyes.
This was also a great segue into her assigned mission from Simon.
“Speaking of people, anyone new here that’s caught your eye?”
Nate looked at her, startled.
Smooth moves, Laurel. “I mean, you mentioned the people here. The town might be the same, but people come and go and change.” She sipped her lemonade again.
Nate sighed. “The main person I’m struggling with right now is my dad.”
“I… guess that makes sense. Want to talk about it?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to dump my problems at your feet.” He paused. “If he’d just talk to me. Open up a little. I mean, I get why he did it. Why did he put up with her for so long.” Nate ran a hand through his hair. “I just––I did a lot of work on myself in Montana. I haven’t forgiven my mom yet; I don’t know if I ever will. But I’ve let go of the anger. But dad… I actually had more to let go of with him. More to forgive him for, which is messed up, I know. Victim blaming at its core. But understanding why he didn’t stand up for himself? Why he didn’t stand up for us? I get that it’s more complicated than a child can understand in that situation, and he eventually did have the courage to kick her out. But then why can’t he talk to me now? And why didn’t he reach out three years ago when he divorced her?
“It’s like he doesn’t want to fix things with me. He only called me so I could keep his business afloat for him. And last night,” Nate looked sheepishly at Laurel. “We got into it. It was stupid. But I chewed him out for not showing up for me. And he didn’t say anything. He took it, like he took it from her all those years and it made me feel like crap.”
“Nate…”
; “No. I’m sorry, Laurel. I said I didn’t want to burden you with this and then I go off. It’s not your problem to fix, but thank you. Just having someone listen while I ranted helped.”
His smile was brave, but broken.
Laurel reached her hand out and placed it on his where he leaned against the railing. Echoes of that night so many years ago rippled back to her. She’d wanted to help then, just like now, and been rejected.
Nate cleared his throat.
Laurel snatched her hand back. “I’m sorry, Nate. I know it’s not my job to fix, but I’m your friend. Listening and caring and being here for you are my jobs.”
Nate smiled at the ground, then reached up and ruffled her hair. “Thanks, Butterfly.” He strode across the porch. “And my job is to finish these stairs so I can tackle that suite of yours. Back to work!”
Laurel frowned and turned to clear the lemonade pitcher and glasses. Nate didn’t seem comfortable with the reminder of her faux paus all those years ago either.
She was trying to put it out of her mind a half hour later reading on the couch with the door open when she heard a truck pull up the driveway. She looked out the window and heard Nate curse under his breath.
“Who is it?” she asked.
“It’s my dad. I left my nail-gun at home and asked him if it was there. He insisted on bringing it by.” Nate was currently up on a small ladder working on the puck lighting that he’d been cursing under his breath for the last five minutes. Laurel refrained from reminding him he was the one who’d forced her to choose better lighting for the porch for safety’s sake.
“Perfect timing,” he said. “Laurel, would you mind? He isn’t supposed to walk much yet with his boot but I kind of can’t––”
“Sure! I can go get it from him! I don’t mind.” She bounded over the steps and padded across the lawn to the drive.
Dave Stadler was tall, like Nate, with a strong face. But where Nate’s brown curls lent him a boyishness that matched his charm, Dave’s hair was straight and fine.
He swung his booted left foot out of his Chevy before Laurel could get there.
“You don’t have to get out!” Laurel said.
“It’s fine, fine.” He waved her help away. He hobbled along the side of the truck until he could reach into the bed. But his eyes strayed to the porch where Nate was focused on his work.
“Thanks for bringing this… nail-gun?” Laurel said.
Dave’s eyes crinkled, quick as a flash, before it faded. “Not a problem. Nate’s a big help, being here. I’m happy to do what little I can to make it easier for him.”
Laurel searched his face. He didn’t seem upset over Nate’s frustration last night.
Dave lifted the nail-gun out of the bed of the truck and held it out for her. Laurel hesitated. She wasn’t wearing gloves, but unless there was a surge in it, she’d be fine. She closed herself to emotional magic and took it from him with both hands. Ah. All clear.
“Sorry. Tools are bound to be a bit dirty,” Dave said.
Oh--he thought she didn’t want to dirty her hands. She gripped the heavy tool in both hands. “Oh, that wasn’t it. I got distracted by a random thought. No worries,” she said.
Dave nodded as if he believed her. Laurel watched as he made his way slowly back to the driver’s seat, wishing she could offer assistance of some kind but knowing he wouldn’t accept it.
As Dave leaned sideways and slid into the front seat, his keys slid out and onto the ground.
“Oh! I’ll get them!” Eager to grab them before Dave could insist on doing it himself, Laurel forgot to consider a possible surge.
As she grabbed the ring of keys, Laurel was sucked under a staggering wave of emotion. Buried under a thousand tons of water, dark and empty. She cast her thoughts around, looking for a sliver of light, a way out or up, but pulling herself back from it was swimming through molasses. She couldn’t get out. She was trapped. She was helpless.
No. That was the emotional energy, not her. She continued to withdraw back into herself.
Laurel finally resurfaced from the undertow and gasped. She must have forgotten to breathe. She bumped against the side of the truck as she tried to stand.
“Are you okay?” Dave’s concerned eyes met hers, his hand outstretched to help her.
“Just lost my balance for a minute.” Laurel smiled, but she wasn’t sure if it passed for real.
“You be careful. Losing my balance is what caused this stupid injury.” Dave gestured at his foot. “Then again, there’s always a silver lining.” Dave glanced back up at Nate. His eyes were so much like Nate’s, green and revealing. “Well, I’ll be heading. Tell Nate I’ll make a frozen lasagna for us, would ya?”
“Sure thing, Mr. Stadler.”
“You’ve always been good for my Nate. Your whole family has.” Dave teared up, but turned away before Laurel was sure. He started the truck and left with a nod and a wave of his hand out the window.
Laurel was stunned by what she’d seen.
“Nate. I need to tell you something.”
It was nearly six and, though Gran had invited Nate to stay for dinner, he felt obligated to join his dad for the frozen lasagna instead.
Laurel followed him to his truck as he loaded up the last of his tools.
“Well, that topic sounds like it might take a minute.” Nate dropped the tailgate on the truck and sat down, patting the spot next to him.
She jumped up, careful not to slide too much on her striped linen pants. Below, the lights of Crescent Cove were just beginning to show; the shadow of Mt. Selene on the west creeping closer. On the foothill, Laurel’s home was still bathed in the soft light of early evening. Perhaps her conversation with Nate would dispel some of his shadows.
“When your dad came by, I saw something,” she said.
Nate gave her his full attention. “Like, saw saw something?”
“Yeah.” Laurel couldn’t help the smile that flittered across her lips. “Saw saw. I read his keys. I totally wasn’t trying to spy but––”
“I know, it’s okay, Laurel. I believe you.” Nate rested his elbows on his legs and looked at her. “What is it?”
“Well, before that, what he said. I can tell he loves you, Nate. He basically said you were the silver lining to his injury. He couldn’t stop looking at you and he practically cried when he thanked me for how good my family was to you back then.”
“He did?”
“Yeah.”
“Then why can’t he––”
Laurel put up a hand to pause him. “And then he dropped his keys and when I picked them up, I got a surge. Nate, it was so sad. It was empty and bleak and directionless.” Laurel almost got sucked back into it just talking about it.
Nate’s brow furrowed.
“Nate, your dad feels unworthy. No, more than that, he feels worthless. And while the surge means he’s felt that strongly in the last days, I believe he’s felt it for much longer than that.”
Nate hesitated. “So, I made him feel that yesterday, then.” He stared at the ground.
Laurel put a hand on his shoulder. “Worthless is a big feeling, Nate. It’s all-encompassing. I’m not an expert on human emotion, despite my ability. But I’ve felt worthless in other people before and it’s usually layered and deep. Maybe you brought it up again last night, but he’s probably been feeling this for a long time. Maybe even before he married your mom. Who knows how long he’s carried this?”
She rubbed his shoulder. “The point is, you didn’t create this for him. But your questions? Why he didn’t reach out, why he didn’t stop her sooner? This might be part of your answer. I’m not sure, but it feels right. But what I am sure of is that he loves you. You matter to him, probably more than he matters to himself right now. That’s something you can build on.”
Nate leaned forward, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was heavy. Laurel knew it. She’d hesitated to insert herself into the situation, but people were the most important thing and also
so difficult to understand. If she had a way to help… she couldn’t not do it.
Nate sighed and sat up straight, looking over the valley. “That’s a lot to process. I don’t know what to do with it.” He looked over at her.
Laurel lifted her shoulders. “Ponder? Observe? See if it helps bring things into place for you? You know,” she said, gesturing out at the little town below them, “you said coming back gave you new sight. You see things in the town differently because of the space you were able to give yourself. But your dad never left. He’s trapped in his own past. He’s never learned to see himself with new eyes. But if you can do that, if you can learn to see him for all that he is, maybe you can help him see himself differently, too.”
Nate rubbed his hand over his jaw, eyeing Laurel. “You’re smart, Laurel. I don’t know how you know this stuff, but I think you’re right. I don’t know how or when I’m going to reach him, but I’m going to try.” He slid off the back of the truck and held out his hand to help her down.
He held her hand a moment and rubbed his thumb across the back, staring at it. But before Laurel could process that, he gave it a quick squeeze and dropped it saying, “Now I’ve got a lasagna to get to. And you…”
“...are going to clean out my room so you can get in there tomorrow. I know, I know.” Laurel rolled her eyes and walked him to the front of the truck.
Nate climbed in, started it, and leaned out the window. “I’m not the only one that’s changed Laurel. Little Butterfly’s all grown up.” He reached out and ruffled her hair again. She swatted his hand away and he grinned, pulling away.
Laurel watched him go. Drat it all. He may say she’s all grown up, but he didn’t treat her like it.
