by Gun Brooke
“I’m happy you ended up in a good place.” I’m envious, to be honest, but not begrudging.
“It will happen for you too.” Stephanie looks at me, her young face knowing in a way that makes me nervous as hell. “And don’t worry. I’m not a blabbermouth. Just so you know.” She nudges me with her knee under the table. “We’re cool.”
I relax. Stephanie is very cool, actually. My eyes meet Gail’s again, and I think I see a puzzled expression on her face, which is odd since she usually assumes an indifferent, or sometimes disdainful, look.
The main course is also from the ocean—salmon and a multitude of vegetables, all presented in bite-size pieces. I wonder if Vivian and Mike have thought of Gail being only able to use one hand to eat when they came up with the menu. If so, these are amazing friends to have. Either way, now Gail doesn’t have to stand out as the only one needing assistance. I think the music-room shock was enough for her. After she left the room, I bet she bolted for the bathroom like I wanted to do just moments ago.
I mainly listen to the conversation around the table as I force myself to eat at the same pace as the others, trying to not come across as if I expect someone to yank the plate away from me before I’m done. Manon brings me into the conversation every now and then, and I begin to relax further—until she announces that I’m going to work as a junior choir leader at the Belmont Foundation.
Gail’s eyebrows shoot up, and I want to groan out loud but don’t.
“That’s fantastic!” Vivian claps her hands together. “I hear you have a lovely voice.”
“She does, but it’s more than that. I have a knack for finding people who can bring more than that to a group of young people who need to feel they belong.” Manon smiles brightly and squeezes my hand on the table. “I suppose it comes from working with support staff and social workers for many years. And when Eryn immediately seconded my opinion, I knew I was definitely onto something.”
“I know Romi will be great. I mean, Carrie is wonderful, but it’ll be wonderful to have someone closer in age as well. Especially when it comes to helping us choose songs.” Stephanie grins.
“Do you hope for a chance in show business yourself, Romi?” Giselle asks, and though her voice is kind, I can tell she’s cautious.
“No, not at all. That’s not what I want.” And it’s the truth. I used my voice in the New York subway because it was one of my chances to make money, but that’s where it stopped being my dream. I enjoy singing, but doing it that way, among people ranging from indifferent or scornful to mildly appreciative, cured my former dreams about being in the limelight.
“Then what do you see yourself doing down the line?” Giselle’s smile warms her features.
“I’m still figuring things out, but I know I’m not meant for show business.” I tuck my hands between my knees.
“Please stop giving Romi the third degree,” Vivian says as if sensing my growing discomfort. “Let’s just be glad Manon found the right person for the choir.”
“You’re right. Enough with the questions.” Manon turns to Giselle, who sits across from her, and soon they’re discussing some joint venture.
I look at the dessert that the guy waiting on us places before me. Ice cream with an amazing chocolate sauce dripping down on top of pieces of some citrus fruit I don’t recognize. I use the only utensil that’s left, a small spoon, and dig in.
“Good, huh?” Gail says, and I see her eyes sparkle as she takes a spoonful. “No, not good. Divine.”
I decide I like the dessert best of all tonight. I’ve never been able to indulge any type of sweet tooth very much since I left East Quay. When I lived with Aunt Clara, she made great desserts, mainly fruit pies, and we sometimes had ice cream. I occasionally used some of the money I earned for mowing lawns and babysitting for some candy, but not very often, as I was saving up to leave as soon as I could. After going to New York, I ran out of money so fast, I certainly never again had any left to spend on candy. It would have been easy, in a way, since some cheap candy would have staved off my hunger temporarily, but like drugs, I saw what that did to people as well. Sugar crashes and bad teeth can kill you almost as fast.
“Love it,” I say to Gail now. “So good.”
Once we’ve all stuffed ourselves completely full, we go back to the living room. I notice Gail chooses an armchair that sits with its back toward the instruments. So, maybe I was right.
Then Gail’s phone rings and she excuses herself. Walking back into the dining room, she talks quietly, but her voice grows concerned. As she returns, she looks at Vivian and Mike. “I apologize that I have to cut this short. I’m having a really good time, but I need to get back to the house. My friends from out of town can’t locate the key, and I can’t keep them waiting in their car.”
“Oh, dear,” Vivian says, a worried frown on her face. “I don’t suppose they’ll want to drive over to us after such a long trip already, even if they’d be most welcome?”
“If I know Neill, he’d be mortified not arriving to meet all of you without looking his absolute best.” Gail rounds the table and places her good hand on Vivian’s shoulder. “Thank you for the lovely dinner. I’m sorry for cutting it short. We’ll see each other again soon, I hope.” She sounds sincere, but something in her voice sounds like apprehension, or at least cautiousness.
“Absolutely, Gail.” Vivian gets up and wraps an arm around her, clearly mindful of her injured arm. “And I think we need to meet tomorrow, at the café, for a quick cup, if nothing else. I have a feeling your friends are as interesting as you.”
Gail chuckles, and the sound permeates something well hidden inside me, making me shiver. “All right, Vivian. Who am I to argue with that? I know Neill and Laurence were heartbroken to miss you all.” Gail nods amicably to the rest of us sitting around the table. Her eyes stop for a second when she looks at me. “I don’t suppose you want to cut the dinner party short in order to get a lift home, Romi?” she asks casually.
I’m torn. As enjoyable as some of this is, it’s damn intimidating, and I’ve struggled with feeling out of my depth on and off since I stepped over the threshold. Truthfully, I’m exhausted.
“We’ll drive Romi home, as she came with us,” Manon says. “Unless you’d rather hitch a ride with Gail?” she asks, turning to me.
Oh, great. If I say yes, I may offend my hosts, and if I say no, I may offend—nah, who am I kidding? Gail won’t care one way or the other if I ride home with her or not. I open my mouth, fully intending to say that I’ll stay, when I see her cradling her arm. She’s in pain. Yes, she drives an automatic, but going home in the dark and having to back out of that narrow parking lot behind the dunes with one arm…she might just need my company. Of course, I’m useless in a car since I don’t drive, but still. A small, inner voice chides me that I’m simply making up a reason for a chance to be alone with this woman who constantly invades my mind, but I silence it by standing up.
“I’d be grateful if I can ride home with you,” I say, my voice firm. Not forgetting the solid manners my aunt instilled in me, I walk over to Vivian and Mike and thank them for their hospitality. Vivian hugs me, this time squeezing much harder than she did with Gail.
Mike sees us out after I’ve said good-bye to the others and helps Gail pull her coat securely around her orthosis. The only sign of how much it must hurt is the small frown between Gail’s eyebrows. I pray Mike knows better than to try to button the coat for Gail, and I’m not disappointed.
“You must come to the café tomorrow too,” Mike says to me and then bends to kiss my cheek, which is so unexpected that I nearly stumble. Uncertain how to reciprocate, or even if I should, I merely nod and shove my hands into my back pockets. “I’ll try. Thank you.”
“Cool. See you then.” Mike opens the door for us and remains there until Gail and I have walked down the steps to the wooden path. Then she waves and closes it.
Chapter Ten
Romi
I walk next to Gai
l, and I wouldn’t even dream of offering her my arm, unless she asked for support. Somehow, I imagine she has had enough of reminders tonight about her injured arm. Well, not the arm per se, but what it has cost her. She doesn’t need to have me fawn over her.
“Thanks for offering to drive me home,” I say. “I’m really grateful they accepted me as an extra guest, but I’m not used to that type of social setting and was starting to feel a bit, well, kind of jittery.” It’s not untrue, and I don’t want Gail to realize it was her vulnerability, or what I perceived as such, that tipped the scale for my leaving early.
“No problem. After all, we’re neighbors.”
These simple words bring the guilt of lying to her, of trespassing like a damn stalker, forward and crashing down on me. “Yes. We are.”
Gail turns her head quickly to look at me. Perhaps something in my voice gave me away, but I’m not sure. “You all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve fallen twice in a few days.” Gail sounds suspicious, and I can’t have her think I’m injured.
“I promise. I’m totally okay.” I try to infuse perkiness in my voice, which is entirely alien to me. I don’t do perky any more than Gail does.
“Hmm. I have to take your word for it. By the way, I like your new outfit.”
Now I’m starting to think that it’s Gail who has banged her head or something. “What? Um. Thank you?” I feel a need to explain, as she’s only seen me in thrift-store stuff before. “I got an advance as I need to look a little more professional on Monday.” It’s almost true. Salaries aren’t always paid in cash. I try for a smile but don’t think it can look very natural.
“And you do look professional. The style suits you.” Gail stops by her car and presses the fob in her hand.
I get into the passenger seat and use my peripheral vision to search for signs of Gail’s pain level. As it turns out, I don’t have to be this cautious. Gail groans as she slumps back into her seat.
“Fuck.” She closes her eyes hard.
I don’t know what to say, but I know not to express any pity. I go for matter-of-fact. “Want help buckling up?”
Gail breathes deeply twice before answering. “Yes.” Her voice is strangled, and I ache for her.
Shifting in my seat, I’m glad I’m the skinny type as I need to lean past her to reach the belt. I don’t want to accidentally brush against her arm. I tug gently at the belt and pull it across her, mindful not to apply pressure anywhere. “Can you raise your arm just a little, so I can fasten it?”
Holding her arm away from her body, Gail is trembling now. “Damn it. I don’t suppose you drive, do you?”
“Sorry. No license.”
“Well, I’m going to need you to put the car in reverse when I start.” Gail looks at me, and her eyes glisten in the muted light from the two street lights.
“Sure.”
Gail presses the button next to the wheel and nods at me. I pull at the stick, remembering to push the button that makes it possible to move it, sliding it into the R slot.
“Now into drive mode,” Gail says after backing up. She maneuvers the wheel with practiced ease, but the pain level makes her bite her lips.
“Can’t you get one of those knobs that truck drivers have?” I know I could be overstepping, but her pain chisels away at the walls I erected around my heart a long time ago. If she gets mad at me, so be it.
“I’ve never thought about that.” Gail sends me a quick glance. “Could come in handy, I suppose.”
Wow. Almost praise, coming from Gail. “Just an idea.” I decide to shut up and not push my luck.
Gail seems to be content not talking, much like when we drove to the bank the other day. I don’t find the silence awkward, which is both surprising—and not. I rarely do well when I have to keep up a conversation, but prolonged silence can still weird me out. Now, I sit next to this woman whom I’m becoming so protective of, and… My mind stalls. And what? I look over at Gail, who now sits more relaxed as we’ve reached the main road, and traffic is light. Her profile is strong with a determined chin, high cheekbones, and a slightly bent nose. She squints some, but I don’t think it’s from being nearsighted, but rather from the pain. The blond hair, kept back from her stunning face by a wide headband, tumbles around her shoulders, and my fingers itch to touch it, run through it to assess if it’s as silky as it looks.
“You’re staring.” Gail doesn’t look at me, but I can see her eyebrows rise.
Shit. “Um. Sorry?” What the hell’s wrong with me? This is so not me. I keep my distance, I remain as safe as I can, I keep my guard up as much as it humanly possible…And now…now I can’t take my eyes off Gail, and all I think of instead of self-preservation is to protect her.
“No need to apologize. I’m simply curious as to why.” Gail manages to sound entirely indifferent, of course.
“You’re beautiful.” Oh, God. What the hell was in those damn shrimps? Something that made me lose my mind, clearly. I snap my jaws closed so fast, I fear my molars might shatter. I still can’t take my eyes off her.
Gail grips the wheel harder, but that’s the only way I can tell she heard me. At least she doesn’t offer another impassive comment. All I have to do is keep my mouth tightly shut and I won’t dig my hole any deeper. Hopefully.
“Yet again,” Gail murmurs.
“Excuse me?” I ignore my intention to be quiet in two seconds flat.
“You managed to surprise me yet again. It rarely happens.” Gail snorts, but it’s not a particularly happy sound.
“Is that a good or a bad thing? I mean, surprising you?” Now I turn slightly in my seat to be able to look at her without getting a kink in my neck.
“The jury’s still out on that one.” Gail smiles now, which I suppose is an improvement.
“It’s not something I plan.”
This makes her chuckle for the second time during the evening. Like before, it gives me shivers, but this time even more so since something I said caused it. Never in my life have I responded this way to someone else. I don’t want to stop looking at her, ever, and I have no idea what it is that makes me shiver. It’s mostly a pleasurable feeling, but it also scares the crap out of me.
“Ah, we’re almost home. Where should I drop you off?” Gail seems relieved, and who can blame her.
“Your driveway’s fine. I don’t have far to go,” I say, turning forward again. The other conversation is obviously over, most likely for good.
“You sure?”
“Yes.” I hope she won’t insist on suddenly wanting to drop me off at “my house.”
“All right.” Gail turns off the main road. “And there are Neill and Laurence.”
“Just let me get out here, and you can go greet your friends.” My words tumble out of my mouth so fast, I nearly stutter.
“Don’t be ridiculous—”
“Please. I’d like to just go home from here.” I realize I sound like I’m begging, and who the hell am I kidding? I’m pleading so I don’t have to be introduced to these friends of hers. I’ve had my fill of new acquaintances today and can’t take another “this is Romi, she helps me with heavy lifting” remark. Not after how I’ve been emotionally tumble-dried this evening.
“All right, all right.” Gail stops the car.
I reach for the handle, about to bolt.
“Hold it.” Gail suddenly sounds strained. “Please. Do me a favor and unbuckle my seat belt? I’d rather not…not demonstrate the pain level tonight to the guys.”
“Oh. Sure.” I press the button to release her belt, mindful to keep it from touching her. I follow it over into its slot next to the door and start to ease back when she places her good hand on my shoulder, stopping me. “Gail?”
“Thank you,” she whispers. Our faces are so close, I can feel her breathing against my face. Her scent, something dark but not heavy, reminds me of black currants, engulfs me.
“You’re welcome,” I say just as quietly, which s
eems to amuse her because I get chuckle number three for the evening.
I close my eyes for a few moments, even though there’s no risk she’ll read something in them in the dark. “Good night,” I say and pull back slowly. “Thank you for the ride.”
“Good night.”
I step out of the car and walk in my usual fake direction. Then I double back when I see Gail has exited the car and is standing in the circle of the porch light with two men. I know it’ll blind them for what goes on in the darkness around them.
As I make my way into the basement and then the secret room, I vow to myself that come Monday, I won’t return here. I cannot do this to Gail any longer. It’s not right.
I have no clue where I’ll sleep from Monday onward, but the situation isn’t new to me, after all. At least, that’s what I tell myself. The situation isn’t new—but I’ve changed.
I curl up on the bed, praying that I won’t hear any confessions in the spy corner tonight. Surely the guys will be hungry or something, and they’ll be in the dining room or the kitchen?
I can’t handle any more right now.
Chapter Eleven
Gail
“You’re sure you’re not pulling my leg?” Neill says as he pulls out of my driveway. He’s offered to drive, which I gladly accepted since my arm is even worse today. If this keeps up, I’ll have to see a local physiotherapist this coming week, whether I want to or not.
“I’m not pulling anything, yet. But I may pull off your nearest protruding body part if you don’t stop nagging me,” I reply, which makes Laurence laugh where he sits in the back seat.
“I swear this is nothing compared to last night. Neill kept going on and on about Chicory Ariose in general and Vivian Harding in particular, and how he nearly died of disappointment when we hit such traffic and he missed her dinner party.” Laurence sighs. “You’d think she was the queen.”
