Me: Just finishing up at the garage. What’s up?
Ally Cat: If I were to offer you food do you think you could do me a HUGE favor?
Me: You don’t have to feed me for me to do you a favor. Where are you?
Ally Cat: My parents’ house. Do you remember how to get here?
Me: I do. See you in 10.
Suddenly my night isn’t looking as gloomy as it was thirty minutes ago. My drive across town is quick, and I make it to her house in six minutes. Parking in the driveway behind the car that brought Ally back into my life just a few days ago, I jog up to the front door and rap on the wood trim twice.
The moment she steps into the doorway, all the stress of the day leaves my muscles. Each one uncurling at once. Her hair is piled on top of her head, a fitted pink tank top is like a second skin and gives no room for the imagination. A pair of loose-fitting black pants sit low on her hips; she’s the picture of relaxed perfection.
“Oh thank goodness! You are saving my life, come in.” She pushes the screen door open and I step into her childhood home. While the furniture and paint are different, the smell and vibe of the house is the same. The one thing I remember about Ally’s house is the way it always smelled like lemons. Specifically lemon polish. I swear her mom must have dusted the house daily. Ally’s grandmother’s house was a different story. Her granny was always baking and the entire house smelled like pie. Apple was always my favorite and as I step further into the house, the familiar scent instantly transports me to our childhood.
“Wow, it still smells like apple pie.”
“Oh, you know Granny. She can’t go more than a few days without baking. We made two earlier today. Kind of. I mean she put them together before I set them in the oven. Does that count as us making them?”
Shrugging, I follow Ally through the dining room to the kitchen where her granny is sitting with a slice of the mentioned pie in front of her and a cup in her hand. Her leg is propped up on the chair next to her and she looks exhausted. Older.
With a smile that rivals her granddaughter’s, she sets the cup down and extends her arms to me. “Andy Nelson, boy get over here and hug Granny.”
“Granny, I told you he goes by Drew now. She says she’s not losing her mind but I wonder,” Ally sasses.
“You shut your mouth. Sorry, kid. Drew, give me a hug.”
Bending down, I hug Granny and inhale the familiar scents of cinnamon and sugar. For a little woman, her grip is strong but the minute her hands slide from where it rested on my back and toward my waist I stand abruptly and take a step back.
“What? Can’t help a girl for trying.”
“Did she?”
“She did.”
“Granny! You can’t touch Drew’s butt. Lord give me patience,” Ally begs with her gaze toward the ceiling, hands in a prayer motion.
Before I can respond Ally excuses us and takes my hand, leading me from the kitchen. “I’m so sorry, Drew. I had no idea she was so handsy. I’m mortified.”
Liking her hand in mine, I don’t bother taking it back, but I do tug her to a stop. When she turns I look down at her, lost for a few seconds in her kind eyes. “Relax. It’s not a big deal. I’m a little flattered to be honest. Now, what’s the emergency?”
I see Ally relax before she releases my hand and slips her hand into the hall bathroom and flips the light. I step into the doorway and see a box with a large piece of metal sitting on the floor, and an open toolbox on the sink.
“The doctor said she can shower on her own if there’s a handle for her to hold. I bought this online and was trying to install it. I’m not exactly handy. Do you think you could help? I promise to heat you up some pasta, and there’s pie.”
“I’m happy to do this for you, and I’ll never turn down a free meal or your granny’s pie.”
“Oh thank goodness. I appreciate it so much. I’ll leave you to it and meet you in the kitchen.”
Stepping aside, I let her pass me before stepping into the room. As I pull the instructions from the box I hear laughter waft through the house and then Ally shout, “Granny!” Laughing, I get to work. The faster I complete this project, the sooner I get to talk to Ally.
Chapter 16
Ally
While Drew works in the bathroom, I help Granny get settled in the recliner with her leg elevated. I’m not three steps out of the living room before she’s shouting her answers, not in the form of a question I might add, at the television. The past week with her has been enlightening to say the least. I see so much of myself in her and have wondered more than once if I’ll be like her when I’m her age. I sure hope so. She’s full of life and truly lives her life with heart and sarcasm. There are worse things.
As I rinse and load dishes in the dishwasher, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I quickly dry my hands before pulling it out. Didi. I should have known. She was the one to encourage me to text Drew. My efforts to convince her it was weird and would cause a ripple effect of gossip in town went ignored. Pushing my buttons and teasing me, she was relentless. And, I folded like a house of cards.
Didi: Well is sexy Drew over there? Are you having your way with him? Playing out a fantasy?
Me: My FRIEND Drew is here, I’m about to have my way with a piece of pie, and it’s not my fantasy, it’s yours.
Didi: 1. YOU are the one who told me he was sexy. 2. Now I need pie. 3. A hot handyman is everyone’s fantasy.
Before I can type out a response, my phone rings. “Not everyone’s.”
Her giggles tug at my heart. I miss my friend. “Girl, ask any living, breathing woman if a sexy handyman sweaty and shirtless is a fantasy and she’ll agree wholeheartedly. And there you are with the real thing.”
“You don’t even know what he looks like,” I remind her as I add soap to the dishwasher and start the machine. Knowing the direction this conversation is going, I step out onto the small back deck and close the screen behind me.
“Doesn’t matter. If you refer to him as sexy then he’s sexy. I’m impressed, Ally. You’re talking to one guy online and spending time with another. That small-town life seems to be working for you.”
She’s teasing but it does remind me how unlike me both of these circumstances are. “Both are friends, Didi. I can have guy friends.”
“Of course you can, silly, but why stop at friends? What if Drew is your one true love? Like Sweet Home Alabama. Maybe he’s your Jake. Does he have a plane? Maybe a fondness for calling people honey? Dear Jesus, does he have an accent?”
Her voice rises with each word, the possibility of fiction turning to real life exciting her squishy romantic heart. Barking out a very unladylike laugh, I cover my mouth, trying to stifle the loud cackle escaping. I fail, and soon the tears are falling and I’m gasping for breath. After what feels like minutes, I finally manage a deep calming breath.
“Geez, it wasn’t that funny. I’m serious.”
“I know but it’s so ridiculous. Fiction isn’t life, Didi. It doesn’t matter how sexy as sin Drew is or how easily we fell into a comfortable rhythm when we saw each other. Childhood friends don’t grow up to fall in love. That’s for the movies. As for D, he’s fun to talk to but nothing can come from that. I don’t even know where he lives or what he looks like other than his tattoo and—”
A throat clearing behind me stops me mid-sentence and I close my eyes. Maybe if I sit here very still, it’ll all be a dream. I say a silent prayer just in case there’s a chance I’m wrong. Please let Granny have miraculously healed and walk out here undetected. While we’re at it, please let her voice have deepened in the last thirty minutes.
“Ally? Hello? Did you hang up? That’s rude, I was just kidding—”
“Didi, I’ll call you back.”
I end the call before she can respond and wait for him to say something. Anything. Instead, he comes to sit next to me on the two-person glider. It’s never seemed small to me before but with him here next to me, his leg brushing against mine, it feels tiny.
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“I finished the handle and tested it out. Granny should be just fine.”
“Umm, thanks. I really appreciate it. About what you—”
“Didn’t you mention something about dinner?” he asks, nudging me with his knee.
Bless this man for choosing to ignore what he must have overheard. We’ll add kindness and a gentleman to his list of attributes. I sit for a minute, enjoying the quiet and the warmth of him next to me. Smacking his leg, causing him to jump and me to laugh, I hop up from the seat and turn to him.
“I did. Let me feed you.” I extend my hand to him and tug him up from his seat and walk toward the slider. With my hand gripping the handle, I pause when I hear a grumble behind me. Peering at him over my shoulder, I see where his eyes are lingering.
Clearing my throat to grab his attention, I giggle as his head pops up, his eyes wide, having been caught. I roll my eyes and open the door, stepping into the kitchen. “Have a seat, want something to drink while I heat this up?”
“Water is good. I’ll get it.” He moves toward the cupboards and opens the one with the glasses, filling it from the tap.
“You remembered.”
“Huh?”
“The glasses. You just walked right up and grabbed one like no time has passed.”
Instead of responding, he sets the glass down and walks a few steps to the right and with his hand on the drawer handle says, “Cutlery.” And opens the drawer that houses the forks, knives, and spoons. He does the same thing for a few cupboards and seems disappointed when he gets one wrong.
“My mom moved as much as she could to the lower shelves when Granny moved in,” I explain as I scoop pasta from the bowl into a smaller dish and place it in the microwave.
Moving around Drew, I open the fridge and pull out a jar salad I was saving for tomorrow’s lunch. Adding the dressing to the jar, I replace the lid and shake before pouring it in a bowl as the microwave signals its completion. He takes his seat at the table as I set everything in front of him.
“This smells great, Ally Cat.”
“Thanks. It’s my specialty. Well, it’s really the only thing I can make. I’m not exactly Betty Crocker.”
“I’ve never seen anyone make a salad in a jar before.”
“Oh, my roommate, Didi, is a huge fan of jar salads. We live in a relatively small apartment with a tiny refrigerator. Jars work great for storage. Plus, it’s better for the environment. Use and reuse and all that.”
He stabs at the lettuce and lifts the fork to mouth, letting out a groan of approval as he takes the first bite of his salad. That sound does more to my insides than it should and a whole hell of a lot more than I should like.
“Was that your roommate you were talking to on the phone?”
“Ugh, tell me you didn’t hear anything I said.”
He winks at me and takes another bite of his salad as I roll my eyes in response. I guess I’ll take a gentleman off the list of attributes.
“Yes, I was talking to my best friend and roommate. About what I said—”
“I didn’t hear anything. Just you laughing like a dying goose.”
Growling, I point my finger at him. “If I had something to toss at you, I would.”
Laughing, he’s moved on from his salad to the pasta and lets out yet another groan in approval. “Anyway, I was talking to Didi. I miss her. We’ve been roommates since college. This trip, while unexpected, was the perfect opportunity for me to get used to living apart from her.”
“Why’s that?”
“She got engaged a few months ago and has been spending less and less time at our place. She hasn’t said it yet, but I know she’s going to be moving out soon. Then I’ll be alone.”
“Ever thought about moving back home?”
I shrug and pick at the placemat in front of me. “Sometimes. I love it here and I miss my family. It’s just, there’s not much here for young singles, ya know? I want what my parents have built, and I don’t see how I’m going to find that here.”
Nodding in agreement, he lifts his water glass to his mouth, taking a long sip. He doesn’t speak for a few minutes, and I feel awkward just sitting here across from him while he eats. Granny has been quiet since we sat down so I get up to go check on her. Peering into the living room, I see that she’s asleep, Myson settled on her lap.
When I return to the kitchen, Drew is at the sink washing his dishes when I walk up behind him, snatching the bowl from his hand. “No way, mister. You are a guest.”
“You cooked, I clean. That was always the rules in my house growing up.”
“Yeah well, I say not tonight. Now we have some pie to eat. Have a seat.”
He does as instructed and I dish up a piece of apple pie for both of us. I’m about to set his slice in front of him when he asks, “No cheese?”
“Wha . . . what?” I stammer. Nobody ever mentions cheese. The only other person to comment on liking that was D in some of our first messages.
“A slice of cheese on my pie? That’s how we always had it when we were kids.”
Shaking off the shock of his statement, I pull the cheese from the fridge and place a slice on top of each piece of pie before warming them in the microwave.
Chapter 17
Drew
This is the moment I should tell her the truth. Confess that she’s been talking to me this entire time. I knew from the first message it was her. I’m a liar and have been deceiving her for weeks.
But I can’t. She’ll be angry. Hurt. I never want to hurt her. She’s good and light. She’s kindness and happiness. She’s lightning bugs and fishing holes. Everything good that has ever come out of Pickerton Grove. The best memories of my childhood all in one person.
Selfishly I don’t want to damage the memories I have or the new friendship we’re creating. For Ally, I don’t want to steal any of the light that shines from her. Confessing to her that I’m a liar and a criminal will only hurt her.
She said it herself, she has no plans to move back home. There’s nothing for her here. She’ll go back home and maybe I’ll see her when she visits at holidays. As for D, it’s only a matter of time before she loses interest in him. Worst case, he can be the dickhead I know I am and ghost her. Won’t be the first time I was a dick.
“Thanks,” I say as she sets the plate in front of me.
“No, thank you for coming over. We’re practically strangers and you didn’t even question it.”
“Ally Cat, we are hardly strangers.”
“Technically we aren’t, but it’s been a dozen years, Drew. We don’t know each other anymore.”
A challenge. I like that.
I mull over what she’s said as we eat our pie. It’s even better than I remember growing up. The sweetness of the pie with the saltiness from the cheese flood my soul with happy memories of my childhood in this kitchen.
There’s truth in her words but also in mine. The bond created as kids is still there. Our banter and comfort with one another was instantaneous. Well, the attraction was immediate but as soon as she realized I was her childhood buddy the connection was there.
The years we’ve been apart can’t be ignored, but the foundation we built exists. Since I’ve been messaging with her as D, I’ve wanted to know more about her. To learn about the woman she’s become. Her interests, her hobbies, what makes her laugh. But, spending time with her this week, I’ve realized it’s more than that. Her presence relaxes me, it pulls me into a better head space, and I don’t feel like it’s me against the world. Somehow I feel like I’m part of the human race again.
“I dare you to ask me anything about yourself and see how well I know you.”
“Dares are your thing, not mine. I’m more of a planner these days. I don’t leap without thinking. You, sir, were always the jumper, consequences be damned.”
“You’re going to avoid a dare? Why Allyson Honeycutt, are you scared?” My tone is teasing but still enough to poke the beast. She sits up in her chair, shoulde
rs thrust back, spine straight with indignation.
“I am not scared.” Her eyes narrow, tone clipped as she responds. “If I agree, this goes both ways. For every question you get wrong, you have to answer one of my questions.”
That’s an easy deal to make. I know the person she is deep in her core, that hasn’t changed. I may have the unfair advantage of the information she’s shared with D, but I’m willing to use it nonetheless. I motion for her to proceed.
She starts off easy on me. Favorite color. Easy, yellow. Favorite television show growing up. The Suite Life of Zach and Cody. Favorite kind of music. Country was my guess from the way she sang along the day we were fishing. Then she hits me with one I wouldn’t know unless I know her. Sadly, it’s something she confessed to D.
“You’re doing well, I’ll give you that. But here’s one that you wouldn’t know. What’s my favorite movie?”
I tap my chin, pretending to think long and hard. Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on the table and slowly smile before answering. “This is a tough one. I know you’re a romantic at heart. You always believed in fairy tales and I’m sure if I looked through your e-reader it would be filled with romance novels. But, you also love to laugh.”
She nods, offering me a smirk instead of a smile but doesn’t speak so I continue. “Therefore, it must be a romantic comedy. Nothing too sappy but also not too funny. Just the perfect blend to bring a few tears to your eye while making you smile the entire time. By the way, when you smile you’re even more beautiful. You should do it always.”
A pink hue tints her cheeks as she looks away. “All of that considered, I’m going to say Sweet Home Alabama.” She gasps and smacks the table.
“How did you know that?”
“Small-town girl leaves town for years only to return and realize her heart has only ever been in that same town. It’s everything you love about Pickerton Grove. Plus, her true love is in that town. It’s where she belongs.”
She doesn’t speak immediately, taking her time and choosing her words carefully. I stop just short of licking my plate while I wait. Ally disappoints me when she doesn’t ask me another question and instead takes my empty plate along with hers and sets them in the sink.
It Was Always You Page 9
