“I don’t know, Ethan. I don’t think that’s a good idea. I think we’ve already gotten in over our heads.”
“It took me ten years and two days to work up the nerve to ask you, and you’re going to turn me down?” He smiled, then tipped his head toward her. “It’s just a date with an old friend. No ulterior motives. How can you say no?”
“Um, one, because we did this thing ten years ago and it ended with a sort of nuclear cloud. And two, I am adult enough and trained enough to know that I’m really in the wrong mind-set to start tootling down memory lane.”
His face turned serious. “I’m not talking about memory lane. I’m talking about getting to know each other again, as adults. Though”—he pointed to her costume—“that sounds pretty funny to say, given your getup right now.”
Josie shifted her weight on her huge neon shoes. She had to be clear that she wasn’t staying. It wasn’t fair to give him false hope.
Or her, if she were to be more honest.
“They’re moving Dad to rehab.”
“Okay?”
“So I just … I just don’t know whether Mom will still need me here for much longer.”
“I thought you took a two-week leave.”
“I did, but it’s my own business. If I’m not seeing patients, I’m not making any money. I have a cat to feed, after all.”
“We can certainly pay you a salary while you’re here, Josie. You’re putting in almost as many hours as I am at this point.”
“No. No salary. It’ll be fine.” A salary sounded way too permanent.
“Okay.” He paused to let a group of teens pass. They were laughing and jostling each other, and you could practically smell the hormones. Had she been like that, once upon a time? Back before she’d blamed the park for all the wrongs in her world?
Ethan touched her elbow. “If I promise to acknowledge that you may disappear in the middle of the night at any point in the next two weeks, could we still maybe go out for dinner tonight? As friends?”
“Just dinner?”
“Just dinner, Jos. I just want to spend a couple of hours away from this park, away from the hospital, with you. Just you.”
“Aw, dammit. Don’t say—romantic stuff like that.”
He looked surprised. “Was that romantic?”
“And now you’ll say something inane like Wait until I’m actually trying!”
“Wait until—no, never mind. So tonight? I’ll pick you up at six?”
“Okay.” She grimaced inside the costume. What was she thinking? “Can you please wear something ugly?”
“Don’t want me to look good on our non-date?”
“Exactly. And no after-shave.”
“I won’t even shave. And I’ll wear holey jeans and a nasty old flannel shirt.” He winked. “See you at six.”
Josie almost choked inside her costume as he headed back down the pathway toward Elf Central. Yes, old jeans and a flannel shirt would be perfect. Because if he showed up looking any more dressed up than that, she was going to have a much harder time thinking about anything besides that damn kiss by the cliffs.
She started strolling in the other direction, alternately smiling and frowning. What was she thinking, saying yes to a date with the one man who apparently still had the power to turn her knees to Jell-O and her brain to mush?
This was destined to end badly.
* * *
“Wow, it smells good in here.” Mom peeked into the open bathroom door while Josie stroked mascara over her lashes. “Does someone have a date?”
“Um, it’s actually a non-date.”
“That why you’re shaking so hard you’re about to poke out an eye?” Mom smiled. “Mind if I come in?”
“Okay. Sure?” Josie motioned her into the small bathroom, where Mom sat on the closed toilet and pulled up her knees. It struck her that normal moms probably did this with their teenaged daughters all over America, but it had sure never happened in this house.
“Is it Ethan? Or did you meet someone else?”
“It’s Ethan. Thus the non-date.” Josie brushed bronzer onto her cheeks, trying to tame down the nervous redness in her cheeks. She’d paired her navy blue sundress with a netted sweater and a locket Ethan had given her ages ago.
“I see. Is that why you’re wearing his favorite perfume?” Mom raised her eyebrows playfully.
“I—no. Not really, no. It’s just what I’ve always worn.”
“I see.”
Josie turned to face her. “You sound like me when you say I see like that. It’s a therapist phrase, but from a mother it sounds way more loaded.”
“Does it, now?” Mom smiled. “It’s not loaded. I’m just listening. Happy that you’re having a date.” She put her finger up as Josie started to protest. “Non-date.”
The doorbell rang, startling both of them. “Oh no! I’m not ready!” Josie scrambled to toss her makeup into her cosmetic bag.
“Don’t worry. I’ll stall him. I bet he can’t resist my chocolate chip cookies.”
Josie looked up. “Is that what I smelled last night?”
“Mm-hm. They’re to die for, if I do say so myself.”
“Will wonders never cease?”
“I know! I bake!” Mom flipped her hair and scooted down the hallway to open the front door while Josie shook her head. She put away her makeup, then turned left to right and back again in the mirror, hoping she looked like just the right blend of Wow-see-what-you’ve-been-missing? and See-how-I-totally-put-no-effort-into-dressing-for-this-date-that-isn’t?
When she walked into the kitchen, Ethan was sitting at the tiny table with Mom, and his upper lip had a suspicious smudge of chocolate already. He had on dress pants and a crisp blue oxford, and his face looked freshly shaven.
Dammit.
He looked up when she walked in, and she could swear his eyes brightened. “Help me, Jos. Your mom’s plying me for information.”
“Using chocolate chip cookie torture?”
He scooped another one from the plate before he stood up. “I’m helpless against these cookies. Save me.”
Josie laughed, but inside, she was shaking her head again. It was a scene she’d dreamed up long ago, one where her boyfriend would come to the house and be all adorable and respectful to her doting mother who’d just baked cookies in the kitchen. It had had absolutely no basis in her high school reality, of course, and seeing it play out ten years later in that same kitchen was surreal.
“Call off the cookies, Mom. He’s a man. He’s weak.” Josie pulled Ethan’s arm as he reached for another cookie.
“One for the road.” He grinned as he popped it in his mouth. Oh, how she’d like to kiss that little smudge off his lip right now. “You look gorgeous, Jos. Are you ready to go?”
She pulled her purse from the chair where she’d started hanging it. “I’m ready.”
“Thanks for the cookies, Mrs. Kendrew. What time shall I have her home?” Ethan’s voice was playful as he guided her down the hallway with his hand at the small of her back.
“No later than Monday. Have fun, you two.” Mom opened the screen door and shooed them through, waiting on the porch as Ethan opened the passenger door and waited for Josie to settle in the seat.
As they rolled backward in the driveway, Mom blew a kiss. “Drive safely! See you tomorrow!”
Out on the main road, Josie was silent, processing the scene at home.
“Well, that was … odd.” Ethan’s voice was level, his eyes on the road.
“So it wasn’t just me?”
“No-o. Not just you. But it was a good odd, right?”
Josie nodded slowly. “Yeah, it was. It really was.”
Ten minutes later, Ethan pulled into a curving driveway that led uphill toward a huge brick Greek Revival home at the far edge of town.
Josie peered at the sign, then at Ethan. “You didn’t.”
“It’s your old favorite. I thought it would be nice.”
“It’s very
date-ish, that’s all.”
“Well, we’re kind of overdressed for McDonald’s. I thought we should step it up a notch.”
“About that. Weren’t you supposed to wear flannel?”
He grinned. “I was fresh out. You’ll have to take me in these duds.”
Josie gritted her teeth. “You look very nice.”
“Do I hear a dammit at the end of that compliment?”
“I’d still prefer toothless and bald. Just sayin’.”
He parked the car and came around to open her door, reaching in for her hand as he did so. As she stepped out, she misjudged and lost her balance, tipping right against his chest. Of course.
“You really need bigger feet.” He chuckled as he set her upright, looking down at her three-inch heels. “Or maybe smaller shoes? How do you wear those things?”
“Not very well, apparently.”
Why had she worn heels? They totally said date. She adjusted her sweater and stepped away from the door, dislodging his fingers on her waist as she did so.
He stepped in close again as he shut the car door, pausing as he pushed the lock button on his key chain. “You smell nice. I still love that perfume.”
“Thank you. It’s revenge for you wearing my favorite after-shave all week.”
“Got it.” He took her hand. “Should we go see if Luciano’s cooking is still the best?”
“Don’t let Mama B hear you say that. Do they still have their feud?”
“Of course. They’re cousins.”
“Does he still make that ridiculously yummy bread?”
“I hope so.”
She paused on the walkway just outside the inn. “How long has it been since you’ve come here?” Was it possible he’d never taken anyone else to her favorite restaurant? She hated that she loved the idea.
“Ages.” Ethan looked up at the tall black doorway. “But right now it seems like just yesterday.”
When they were seated at a corner table for two, Ethan proposed a toast. “To our first non-date. May there be many more.”
Josie giggled as she clinked her glass to his. “Emphasis on non.”
“Of course. As you wish. Let’s pretend we don’t even know each other. So Josie … it’s Josie, right?” She giggled again. “Okay, small talk. Hm. What’s your favorite zoo animal?”
“Zoo animal? Seriously? This is your first-date small talk?”
“First non-date. And it’s been a while since I’ve had one. Can’t get too personal, right?”
“Right. Okay. Um, giraffes. Yours?”
“Hippos.”
“Hippos? Why on earth would you choose hippos?” Josie laughed. “They’re huge and ugly.”
“They’re big and bad and they don’t care what anybody thinks about it. Giraffes are smelly, by the way.”
“They have cute faces.”
“All right, since I already knew the answer to that one, what’s your favorite kind of car?”
“Dream car or reality car?”
“Either. Both.”
“Okay, reality car. I love my Jeep. I mean, if it would stop breaking I’d love it better, but I love it.”
“I can’t say I’d ever pictured you in a Jeep. A Prius maybe. A Camry?”
“Ugh. Old-lady car. My dream car would be a convertible Mini Cooper, I think.”
“Not a Ferrari? A candy-apple-red Porsche?”
“Are you kidding? In Boston? If it didn’t get swiped the first day I owned it, I’d be lucky. Plus, it would cost a mint to park it.”
The waiter arrived at the table with a steaming basket of Italian bread and a shallow bowl filled with garlic dipping oil. Josie sighed with pleasure as she broke apart the bread and dipped it into the warm oil. “This is heavenly.”
“Did you forget how good all the food is here in Echo Lake?” His smile was half amused, half—she wasn’t sure what.
“I know you want me to say that I forgot how good a lot of things are here in Echo Lake.”
“It was a rather brilliant lead-in.”
“Then yes. I did. I have to admit I haven’t had a maple creemee in ten years, or an Italian burger like Mama B makes, or God, this bread.” She pulled another piece from the basket before she could calculate the calories. “I think if I hit Morris’s French fry cart before I leave, I’ll have recharged my culinary memory bank.”
“So tell me about your patients in Boston.”
Josie paused. It was such a loaded question, even if he hadn’t intended it to be. “Well, I get a lot of referrals from Boston Children’s. Mostly parents of the kiddos getting care there. The system takes great care of the kids, but not so much the rest of the family. I feel like it’s such a gaping hole.”
“Do you do grief counseling, too, then?”
“At times. But mostly I tend to get families right after diagnosis, when everybody’s reeling and scared out of their wits.”
“That sounds intense.”
“It is. Really is.” She picked at her bread. “But it’s good work. Necessary work. So it feels good while it’s feeling awful.”
“We know all about awful.” His eyes were serious, probing. “Is that why you do it?”
She paused. “Of course it is. Nothing made sense after … after her. But this? This makes sense. I guess.”
She cringed, feeling like she’d shared too much, but sitting here with Ethan, in the warm garlic-scented restaurant where they’d spent almost every special occasion they’d ever shared, just made her feel all stupidly gooshy inside.
“I know what you mean.” He nodded, then started to reach across the table for her hand. Their eyes met, and instead of touching her, he fiddled with the cloth napkin in the bread bowl, fishing out another piece. He cleared his throat. Was he nervous?
“So you do counseling all day. What do you do in your down time? How do you decompress?”
Good question. How did she? “You know, I’m not sure I really do. Between the free clinic and my practice, I probably do about sixty hours a week, and then I collapse. I taught a couple of intro-level classes at BC last spring, which was ridiculous.”
“Are you scheduled to teach there again this fall?” She could tell he was forcing his voice to sound like he didn’t care one way or another.
“Emphasis on ridiculous. No. It was too much. I like teaching, but teaching practically for free isn’t as fun as it sounds. I did enough of that as a grad student.”
“Do you still bike?”
“Not on purpose. Just when I have a case of dead Jeep.” Josie shook her head. “I’m a little too attached to my limbs to risk them cycling through city traffic.”
She paused as the waiter delivered their food—a succulent chicken Bolognese for her and a lobster ravioli for him. Then she stared at her plate for a moment. “I sound hideously, horribly boring, don’t I?”
“You sound hideously, horribly busy, actually. Do you ever go out? Have a social life?” Again she could hear the effort in his voice.
“That I do do. I’m a serial dater of incompatible men.”
He laughed out loud. “Define serial.”
“At least one date every three months. It’s a tough schedule to keep straight.”
They were both quiet for a few moments as they tasted their food. After a sip of her wine, Josie screwed up her courage. “And what about you, Ethan? How’s your love life been these past ten years?”
She hated that she braced for the answer.
“Oh, you don’t want to know that. Totally inappropriate question.” He winked at her.
She speared a piece of chicken a little harder than she meant to. “I’ll just ask Josh. I think I caught a glimpse of him at the hospital yesterday.”
“The man code will require him to give an answer that best benefits me, you know.”
Josie ate another bite of her chicken and washed it down with a long sip of wine. “Are you dating anybody now?”
“No.” He looked at her, his face serious. “I’m finding th
at non-dates are more fun.”
Half an hour later, after they’d dissected their favorite movies from the past few years, Josie pushed her plate away and rubbed her stomach. “Oh wow. That was the best meal I’ve had in a long, long time.”
“Want to go walk it off on the paths out back?” Ethan stood up and came around to pull out her chair.
“They’re not still romantic, are they? Not strewn with gorgeous flowers and hidden benches?”
“Definitely not. No. It’s all gone to hell back there. Full of weeds and pricker bushes.” He winked as he held her sweater for her.
“Perfect. Let’s go.”
As they headed out the door, Josie’s phone beeped with an incoming text, and she glanced at it briefly just to make sure it wasn’t Kirsten trying to get hold of her about a patient. But no. It was from Mom, and oh Lord, it wasn’t good.
“Oh my God, Ethan.” She held up the phone, but her hand started shaking too hard for him to read it.
“What? What?” He grabbed her hand to steady it. “What’s wrong?” Then he read the text and grabbed his keys, pulling her at a quick walk to his truck.
Chapter 26
“We got here as fast as we could.” Josie practically ran into the waiting room, Ethan on her heels. “What’s happening?”
Mom was perched on the edge of a chair, smiling and teary at the same time. “He’s trying to talk, honey. He’s really trying. They gave him a letter board and he’s trying to point to letters.”
Josie turned to Ethan, then back to Mom. “Talk? So he’s not … dying?”
Mom’s eyes widened. “No! Goodness, no! Why would you think that?”
“Your text, Mom. It says Come to the hospital as fast as you can.” Josie held out her phone so Mom could read it. “And then you didn’t answer when I called.”
“Oh Lord.” Mom pulled out her own phone and tapped a couple of times, then put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, Jos, I’m so sorry. The second half of the message says Dad’s talking! I must not have clicked SEND.”
Josie sank into a chair, knees suddenly jellyfish. “It’s okay. It’s good. I’m glad he’s okay. But good God, maybe press SEND next time, okay?”
Ethan settled in the empty chair next to Josie. “So what did he say?”
Forever This Time Page 19
