by Sarina Bowen
“You’ll be okay,” he said, patting her hand.
She caught it in hers and squeezed. “You do look good, Hank. Seriously.”
“Thank you,” he said. And thank you for extinguishing any final regrets I may have harbored. “But I think it’s time for you to leave.”
She gave him a catty little smile. “Your loss.” She stood up then, and turned her back on him, heading for the living room.
He followed her out. As she reached the front door, he said, “And not that it’s any of your business. But the answer to your question is—an hour or two ago.”
She chuckled as she went for the door. “Glad to hear it,” she said over her shoulder. And then she was gone.
“What happened there?” Dane asked as the door closed.
Hank pulled his sweatshirt over his head. “I had to get rid of her so we could smoke a cigar in peace. Now, let’s get to it, before the women come back.” He rolled toward the door.
Outside on the porch, his friends reclined on the deck chairs. Dane trimmed the ends, and Hank chain-lit the stogies. Their burning orange tips were the only light on the porch. Hank put the cigar in his mouth and gave several quick puffs to assure his light. “God, Alexis is such a piece of work. She just propositioned me.”
Bear’s eyebrows shot up, and he began to choke.
“Do we need to put training wheels on that thing for you?” Dane asked.
“I don’t even know what’s worse. The fact that she put the moves on me, or the fact that she asked me—and this is a quote—if ‘it still works.’”
“Christ,” Dane swore.
“I mean, it’s a fair question,” Hank acknowledged. “But only the very rude are willing to ask. I should get T-shirts made.”
He enjoyed the sound of his friends’ laughter in the dark. “Of course it still works,” Bear said. “Hazardous is a force of nature.”
Hank couldn’t even answer. Tonight, at long last, he was filled with the realization of just how lucky he really was. Nothing in this life was a given. There were guys out there who had lost so much more—guys just like him. If he’d hit the pipe’s edge harder, he might have no feeling below his belly button. And if he’d landed just ten inches higher up on his spine, he might need a nurse to hold his cigar. There was no logic, and no justice, but he’d been spared.
He was lucky, goddamn it. Only he hadn’t felt lucky for a long time. He was so fucking lucky, and he needed to never forget that again. His eyes burned, either from the cigar smoke, or all the emotions in his sappy head. And what did it matter? He was alive, and sitting on the porch with a fine cigar and even finer friends.
In the distance, the sky glimmered with the promise of a bright moon soon to rise in front of the Green Mountains. Hank puffed smoke out of his mouth and watched for it, more content than he’d been for a very long time.
* * *
Finley fell asleep on the way back from her first trip to Rupert’s Bar.
For a happy hour, Callie had forgotten her troubles. It was just like old times, sitting next to Willow on a bar stool, sharing a plate of nachos. The only difference was watching Travis trying to tap beers holding a toddler on one hip.
Now the little cutie was sacked out in her car seat. “Will she wake up when you lift her out of the backseat?” Callie asked.
“Nope,” Willow answered. “She’s a good sleeper now. But I hope Dane set up the portable crib while we were gone. What are the odds?”
“If all the beer ran out, then I give you fifty percent.”
Willow giggled.
“You seem happy, Wills. All three of you do.”
“I am happy. But it’s work, of course. The baby takes a lot out of us sometimes. It’s getting better now that she’s turned one.”
“Do you think you’ll have another one?”
“Actually…I’m pregnant.”
Callie was so surprised she might have driven the car off the road. “What?”
“Yeah. Just ten weeks, though. We aren’t really telling people.”
“Oh, my God, Willow! You’re going to have two of them. Congratulations.”
“We decided that having them close together would be nice. Dane said—and I’m not kidding—that it would be better to get everyone on skis quicker.”
Callie howled with laughter. “And did you have a say in it?”
“Of course I did. It’s actually better for my career this way. Once I’m ready to open my own psych practice, there will be no way to take a maternity leave.”
“Wow. Just…wow.” There was silence in the car as Callie turned off the main road and onto the twisting lane that led to Hank’s house. “You know, I could have used a little psych consult around here lately.”
“Yeah? Is Hank doing okay?”
“He’s had a tough time. I think he’s just starting to do better. But I think it’s unfair of me to expect things from him. It hasn’t even been a year since his accident. I mean…I want to have kids someday, too. How can you ask a guy to think about those big questions, when his whole world has just landed on its ass?”
“It’s tough, honey. You can only listen to your gut. If you truly want to go to California, then go. But make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons.”
Callie sighed. “I’m so confused.”
“I know, sweetie. That’s because you want something, but you’re afraid to take it.”
“Sure. But there are very good reasons to be afraid. The worst-case scenario is that I could lose my job, and Hank and it wouldn’t work out. Then I’d have exactly nothing. I’ll be asking people whether or not they want fries with their burgers for a living. And I’ll live alone with a dozen cats, all of whom have to eat whichever cat food is on sale at the Quick Mart.”
“Whoa, there. That’s a whole lot of doom. One problem at a time, okay? How can you figure out if the hospital would object to your relationship with Hank?”
“I could ask the director,” Callie said immediately. “But since I’ve already…” She cleared her throat. “The time to ask has long since passed. I’m already guilty.”
“So it’s not an easy conversation.”
“Hell no.”
“But is Hank worth a difficult conversation?”
Ouch. “Jeez, if you put it like that…”
“Well, is he?”
Callie put on her right-turn signal and pulled onto the shoulder. She dug her phone out of her pocket and turned it on.
“Dare I ask what you’re doing?”
“Having a difficult conversation with the hospital director.” She pulled up Dr. Fennigan’s number. But then the phone was swept from her hand. “Hey!”
“Callie. Do you know it’s eleven o’clock on a Sunday night?”
“Oh.” Callie put her head down on the steering wheel. “I’m losing my mind, Willow.”
“A little bit.”
“He makes me crazy. And stupid.”
“That’s not always a bad thing.”
“I’m not used to feeling stupid.”
“Or crazy,” Willow added. “But all the best things in life make you feel that way. Roller coasters. Margaritas. Hot sex. Did Nathan ever make you feel crazy like that?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Aha! Another clue that Hank matters.”
“Get out of my brain, Willow. This is too much truth for one night.”
“Just be thankful you get the best-friend discount. Because that was two hundred bucks worth of therapy right there. Now let’s get back, shall we?”
With a sigh, Callie put her signal on and checked the country road for traffic. There wasn’t any.
Beside her, Willow smiled in the dark. “I know you’re scared. But I have a good feeling about this. I probably don’t know Hank as well as you do. But he’s so alive, Callie. And you can’t have love without risk, no matter who it is.”
“I know that. But there’s risk, and then there’s Hank. I think he invented the word.” Callie accelerated toward Hank’s ho
use.
“Nathan looked like a sure bet. And look how that turned out.”
“Now, that’s just mean.”
“No it isn’t. I’m just pointing out how hard it is to tell who makes a good risk.”
“Noted.” Callie was now officially exhausted. When she rolled the car up Hank’s driveway, she wondered how best to make her exit. Hank wasn’t going to like it. But there were tricky conversations to be had with herself, and also with Hank. And she didn’t want to muddy their happy party with her fears.
Unfortunately, her thoughts of a quick getaway were dashed when Willow asked her to hold baby Finley. “Setting up the portable crib is a two-man job,” she said. “Dane and I will hustle with it, if you wouldn’t mind sitting with her.”
So Callie got out of the car and accepted a warm bundle from Willow, tucking Finley’s soft little head against her shoulder. “Come here, sweetie,” she whispered as the little girl’s heavy body slumped against hers. Willow removed the car seat from the back of Callie’s sedan, and together they crunched up the gravel walk.
“Hark, who goes there?” said a slightly drunk voice. There were three little orange lights on the porch as they approached.
“It’s the authorities,” Willow quipped. “Hide the booze and the hookers.”
Callie, with precious cargo in her arms, took care on the steps in the dark.
“Dane,” Willow asked, standing over her husband. “Give Callie your seat, would you? I need your help with the crib thingy.”
Dane stood up to follow his wife inside. And then Bear declared that it was late. He scooped up a few bottles and carried them into the house.
Callie and Hank were alone on the porch together. She reclined against the porch chair, with Finley sleeping on her chest.
“What do you have there?” he asked, his voice low.
An angel, Callie almost answered. For her, it was such a loaded question. The pull she felt toward Hank was intense. But he wasn’t a family guy, and she wasn’t getting any younger. In her arms, Callie felt as if she was holding a warm bundle of her possible future. Only time would tell if she was lucky enough to have one of these of her own. “Finley fell asleep in the car,” Callie said.
“I’ve never had a baby as a house guest before,” he said. “Then again, I don’t get many guests.”
“They don’t take up much space,” Callie said. But it wasn’t even true. Children occupied a big space in people’s lives, and a giant chunk of her heart.
“I’ve got nothing but space.” He sounded as melancholy as Callie felt, and she wondered what had made him sad. Hank stabbed out his cigar in the dark. He took a long pull of beer, and then wheeled around the table toward her. “Move over, gorgeous,” he said.
Callie hesitated. Then she made a little space on the lounge chair, and he swung his butt onto it. His arm came around, over her shoulders, and she and Finley were gathered close to his chest. And it was really too much. Sitting like this with him, holding the warmth of a baby’s body—it made her ache for everything in life that she might never find.
Hank turned his head, nosing into her hair. The kiss that landed on her temple was a tender one. “Thank you for putting me back in the saddle, you sexy thing,” he said.
The sentiment made her heart twist. He was still thinking about sex, and she was weighed down with big questions. Anything she said in reply was going to come out wrong.
Fortunately, that was when Willow opened the door. “All set,” she said. “I’ll take her.”
Callie lurched to her feet and stepped just inside Hank’s house. She didn’t remove her shoes, as she wasn’t planning to stay. “Good night, Finley,” she whispered. Handing the baby back to Willow, she could still feel the warm place on her body where the baby had lain.
“I should turn in,” Willow said. Then she turned to Callie, giving her a pointed stare. To Hank, who was just wheeling into the room, she said, “Thanks for everything.”
“Any time,” he said. “I love having visitors. Hey—hang on a second, Willow. There’s something I need to show you.” Hank propelled himself over to a bookshelf on the wall. And when he turned around, Callie saw Willow’s violin case on his lap.
“Where’d you get that?” Willow asked.
“Your house,” he said, glancing toward Callie. “It’s kind of a long story…”
Callie gave him her best wry smile.
“…But when I saw it, I had a hunch about this fiddle. And I was right.” He flipped open the snap lock on the case and opened the lid. “I had the instrument and the bow restrung for you, and the bridge adjusted.” Tossing the case onto the coffee table, he put the fiddle under his chin.
Then, as Willow’s jaw lowered in surprise, he put the bow on the strings and pulled. Callie got goose bumps as a note rose, shimmering, into the stillness of the room. Strains of a slow, lilting fiddle tune rose up into the night. He kept the volume low, but the speed of his fingers and the confident jump of the bow on the strings were captivating. The music washed over her like a bittersweet spell. Hank was beautiful in so many ways. She hoped he knew that.
* * *
Drawn by the music, Dane stuck his head out of the guest room and Bear emerged from the bathroom. The looks on their faces were just as Callie pictured her own—sheer awe.
When Hank finished, he let the last note trail out long. And then there was nothing but silence for a moment.
“Damn,” Dane said.
“Wow,” Callie sighed.
“I need that in my movie…” Bear put in.
“That was beautiful,” Willow squealed.
“She sounds good, doesn’t she?” Hank agreed, turning the fiddle over in his hands. “When I saw this woodworking, I had a feeling I was holding something special. This one was made in the Smoky Mountains in the nineteenth century. Willow, this thing is worth ten or fifteen thousand dollars.”
Willow clapped a hand to her cheek. “God! To think it was just sitting there in the empty house. And there were so many months when I was behind on my electric bill. I could have sold it.” Hank clicked the violin case shut and held it out to Willow. But Willow shook her head. “It’s no use to me right now. I can’t play it, that’s for sure.”
“I could sell it for you,” Hank offered.
“Why don’t you hang on to it for a while, instead?” Willow suggested. “It suits you.”
He ran one hand over the case. “I’ve enjoyed getting to know it.”
Willow yawned. “Right now, I need to get to know a bed.” She turned toward Dane, who held out his arms to his family.
“G’night guys,” Bear said. He zipped his jacket. On his way past Callie, he gave her elbow a friendly squeeze. Then he was gone, the door shut behind him.
She and Hank were the only ones left in the room. “Come to bed,” Hank said slowly, as if he already knew she would argue.
“I can’t. I’m sorry.” She swallowed hard.
“Like hell you can’t. We had a big day, Callie. Don’t run off.”
“We did. We had…really good sex. The best of my life.”
“Damn. I hear a ‘but’ coming on,” he whispered.
“But I don’t know what happens next. Now that you’re in business again, the women of America will take you back with open arms.”
His brow furrowed. “Callie, I don’t know why you’re bugging out on me. Hell yes, I’m happy to have sex again. That’s the truth. I’m happy, because it means I get to be with you in a way that isn’t compromised and sad. There isn’t anyone I want in my bed except for you.”
Her heart gave another squeeze. Hank was a good guy, and she knew he was sincere. But also shortsighted. “I have to go home now.”
“Why?”
“Because staying will just confuse me.”
“You’re still talking about going to California.”
She nodded.
“Callie, don’t leave tonight. If there’s some dream job for you in California, I’ll have to under
stand. But you haven’t even interviewed for it yet. So there’s really no reason why we can’t be together right now.”
Oh, but there was. There were several dozen reasons. And yet she was probably too muddled at the moment to explain so that he would understand. “I’m in over my head with you. I just need to be in my own space.”
His chin dropped. “You said you’d stay.”
It was true. She had. Except that she’d been naked at the time. Every time Hank touched her, she lost her mind a little bit, doing things and saying things that weren’t in her best interest.
Even now, he put his hands on the wheels of his chair, as if to come closer. So Callie took evasive measures, putting her hand on the doorknob. “Hank, I need to sort myself out, okay? We’ll talk tomorrow.”
His frown was deep. “Now would be better than tomorrow.”
He rolled forward, but Callie opened the door and stepped outside. It was cowardly, but she did it anyway. Turning toward the stoop, she allowed herself one last look at Hank’s face. And that was a mistake. The frustration she saw there cut her. He’d stopped on the threshold of the porch. There was no wheelchair ramp here, so when she went out the front, he couldn’t even follow her. Even so, his hands were tight on the armrests, as if he were about to defy physics and follow her down the driveway.
But he couldn’t.
It felt cruel to march down those steps, where he couldn’t follow. But she did it anyway. And then she got into her car and drove away.
* * *
The trouble with being a (mostly) good girl was that you could never quite let yourself off the hook.
After a few hours of sleep, Callie awoke at four in the morning, well aware that she’d now committed two sins. The first was having sex with Hank before she’d sorted through the ethical complications. The second was dashing off afterward with all the subtlety of Wile E. Coyote’s Road Runner.
She’d already risked everything, really. She could lose her entire livelihood if someone wanted to call her on it. And then she had run away before waiting to learn if her big risk had meant anything to Hank.
But did he even know? The problem was that it wasn’t fair to ask Hank for more than he’d already given. Tiny had put a very sharp point on what a tough position Hank was in. Less than one year out from his accident, he was still trying to figure out what to do with his new life. It just wasn’t right to pressure him.
