This Time Around

by Denise Hunter

  Theo gave a startled turn. “I ate some of that casserole your mother somehow providentially baked and managed to drop off at the cabin during the ten-minute span we were all together.”

  “Ah. She is a crafty one, isn’t she?” Skye replied. “And let me guess. You managed all this—the 5:00 a.m. poetic stroll, the slow-morning breakfast—just after your morning workout?”

  Theo’s brow lifted. “There’s a Peloton at the cabin, and yes, I did so happen to make use of it for a few minutes. How did you know?”

  “Well for one thing, you are the one person on earth who has actually improved with age.” She put up a hand as his brows rose. “Don’t take it personally. It’s a fact, and I’m trying not to hate you for it. And second, you are the most meticulous, self-disciplined person I know.” Skye waited for him to pass and then shut the door behind her. “I once left you unattended in Dad’s toolshed and came back to find you’d reorganized the whole thing alphabetically.”

  “So? I like organization. Everybody likes organization.”

  “Yeah, well, we were six,” Skye replied. “Anyway, I imagine that level of neurosis as an adult equates to having one of those commercial rotating racks of color-coded ties in your smudge-free, floor-to-ceiling mirrored closets and jogging religiously every morning before dawn. Am I right?”

  As she moved to turn the lock, he shifted his back against the railing, their bodies suddenly compact on the back porch covered in empty pots facing the greenhouse and woods beyond.

  “So, you think I’ve improved with age, eh?”

  She pressed her lips together as she dropped the key into her pocket. “I also called you neurotic in the same breath. But sure, if that’s what you want to focus on . . .”

  Theo’s eyes were bright. “It’s the orange flannel, isn’t it?” He tugged on the cuffs, which were about three inches too short.

  “Yeah. Speaking of,” Skye said, hopping down the steps, “you really went a bit overboard with that good ol’ country boy outfit.”

  “Forgive me,” he said, following. “I wasn’t exactly brimming with options at ten o’clock at night.”

  She stopped and turned to face him. Put up a finger. “Wait a minute. You honestly drove all the way down the mountain last night to enter a store two hours shy of midnight? To buy that? You honestly don’t own a single pair of pants that can get dirty?”

  Theo rubbed the back of his neck.

  When it was clear that his nonanswer would be his final answer, she laughed and turned toward her car. “Seriously. You haven’t changed at all.”

  Both her breath and foot caught on the last word.

  With effort, she planted her boot and kept walking.

  She was losing herself so quickly, forgetting valid resentments in favor of childhood memories. Sure, he hadn’t changed at all. She was right to have said he hadn’t changed at all. Because he hadn’t. He was just like he was fourteen years ago.

  Her eyes flitted over to the tallest Fraser fir in the center of the field. She’d given her heart to him then, on that blanket beneath that tree and a midnight sky. They’d whispered their first pronouncements of love to each other—not like the thousands of times they’d said it before, like the burst of a laugh before you take another’s hand and hop the creek, like friends. No, they’d peeled off the bravado that night, slowly, in layers, until they were looking into each other’s eyes and saying it with all the sincerity they could pour from their lungs. Bare before each other. Vulnerable. She had, for once, let herself be vulnerable.

  And then he left for UVA.

  The calls came every day that first year.

  Then every other day the fall semester of the second.

  Then every weekend.

  Until one day, one brisk January day of his junior year, he held her hand once again as they walked along that long driveway, the wind nipping at their feet and flurries swirling between trees, and she was just beginning to breathe again as he poured out all the fantastical stories of college memories and friends. She listened while quietly stacking away the insecurities and fears that had built up over the months, squeezing his hand until there was no space between their fingers at all. Months of tension in her shoulders and the consequential headaches started to ease.

  And then, the growling of the gravel driveway. Both of their heads turning in surprise.

  The white BMW packed with girls, halfway up the road, suddenly skidded to a stop.

  The music poured out of the car as one girl, with rippling blonde curls, stepped out of the car to face the sweetheart of a boy she had driven so far to surprise. The wind stripped her neck of the white scarf she was just wrapping around herself and sent it flying, yet no one moved.

  So Skye would remember that Theo hadn’t changed. After what she had seen of her father’s salary, she was certain of it. He was charming and said all the right things. He had an aptitude for appearing so loyal you’d trust him with your life, but when push came to shove, where was he?

  He was Theodore Watkins III. Savvy financial adviser whom clients entrusted with all their money. Beloved employer whom employees slaved away for on a dime. Light of her childhood, best friend of her youth, man who collected hearts.

  She needed to remember what was true. That he hadn’t changed.

  She grinned suddenly, making for the Prius as she pulled out her phone and began tapping. She knew just the way to remind herself.

  Chapter 7

  Theo

  The air shifted and he had no idea what he’d said to cause it.

  One moment they were reminiscing and laughing; the next she was jabbing the car keys with her thumb and telling him quietly to get in.

  He didn’t get it.

  She even noted that he had aged well. Sure, she said it like the fact was a nail in her shoe, but still, the words were there. He’d heard them.

  But then suddenly she was pivoting on her heel, furiously tapping out a text on her phone and charging toward the Prius with fresh determination.

  Whatever was going on, this was a classic Skye move.

  For all Skye’s gifts, communication was not one of them. Not when it came to something serious. Fun things, funny things, what to eat for dinner, or whether she liked your present—Skye could give you a thousand reasons for her honest opinion. But the raw things? The real things? The matters hidden deep within the heart? Well, you’d have better luck recovering gold from the 1715 Treasure Fleet in the middle of a hurricane than getting her to admit you hurt her feelings.

  He knew that fact all too well. She’d once moved as far as she could across the country for that very reason.

  The Prius rumbled beneath them as Skye pulled the gearshift into reverse and the car started moving backward. Theo hesitated. “And . . . is there a reason we are using the Prius instead of walking to get to the tractor?”

  “I thought you didn’t like walking through the woods,” Skye retorted, gazing intently into the rearview mirror.

  “True, yes,” Theo said, his knees knocking against the glove compartment. “But if I’m not mistaken, your gaze possesses a somewhat villainous flair, and your Prius doesn’t have four-wheel drive. Wouldn’t it be easier to walk?”

  Skye squinted as she turned her head to the back window, moved one arm to hold on to the back of his headrest, and whipped the car around his Tesla.

  “Skye.” He inhaled sharply as the side mirror of his own car came into view—more specifically, came into view an inch away from hers.

  He threw his shock her way. “Did you pick up getaway-car driving skills while in Seattle?”

  She knocked the gearshift into drive, and the gravel beneath them sputtered as her car swerved toward the road.

  Theo clutched the seat with one hand and pointed with the other. “You can’t be serious. There’s a bridge.”

  Skye glanced over. “You’re trying to hit an imaginary brake. My mother does that.”

  “Eyes on the road!” With one hand pressed against the roof an
d the other against the passenger window, he pushed himself off his seat. His head knocked against the ceiling. The ledge of the rickety wooden bridge was all but beneath her right tire as the wheels spun. The jagged rocks in the creek below peered up at him in the glow of dawn. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Your mother is the most commonsensical person in your family,” he cried out. “Have you ever considered that she is right to question your driving skills?”

  Theo felt the bump, then heard more spitting gravel, then felt his body collide into the passenger door as Skye swerved left onto the road. It took several seconds for him to lower back down into his seat and let go of the roof.

  When he opened his eyes, Skye was grinning at him like a madwoman. “Good thing you were holding that roof up to protect us. Otherwise, we would’ve been goners for sure.”

  “Road!” he called, clenching his teeth as they approached one of the many, many swift turns.

  Skye cackled. “Theo, how many times do you think I have driven down this mountain?”

  “Don’t try that on me,” he replied through gritted teeth. His grip on the passenger door was nothing short of ironclad.

  He couldn’t be sure—he wasn’t willing to risk looking away from the road—but he thought he sensed her shifting. A moment later, he felt the car slow.

  His grip loosened reluctantly, his hand stiff and aching. He clenched and unclenched it before folding his hands together.

  For several minutes, Theo watched the trees whip by out his window. “So,” he said at last, “care to divulge where we are going?”

  “Not at all.” She was pleasantly upbeat as she turned the wheel around another switchback. “We’re going to Luke’s.”

  “Luke’s?” It took a moment, but then the name rang a bell. “Ah. Luke’s.”

  Skye raised a finger, clearly enjoying herself too much. “That’s the one.”

  So that’s what she was up to. The pieces were starting to come together.

  At least now he knew the rules of this game. “I do recall meeting him that one time and receiving the rather unfortunate experience of a broken nose. Did you know that led to reconstructive surgery?”

  “I did not,” Skye said, not even bothering to hide her upbeat tone as she turned the wheel.

  “Which led me to miss the Mediterranean trip that was a required piece of my spring course,” Theo continued, “and as such, required that I find another class to fill its place.” He turned to her. “Only every class was full at that point. But one.”

  He let the silence linger until she surrendered and turned her head his way.

  “Which was?” she asked.

  “Basket weaving.”

  Skye barked a laugh. “I hope you got some great baskets out of it.”

  “Oh yes,” Theo replied. “While my friends returned from Athens and spent the spring semester reading ancient Greek literature aloud while taste testing brizola, I sat in a circle with eighteen females under rather clangy wind chimes and labored over a basket that would end up looking like a deranged duck. For the record, it was the only class at university in which I got a C.”

  Skye pressed her hand to her heart in the most unconvincing manner possible. “Oh, poor you. That must’ve been awful.”

  Theo swept an invisible thread off the bulky plaid sleeve. “Yes, well—”

  “Really. That, of all things that could’ve possibly happened that semester, must’ve been the worst.”

  Theo exhaled. Took a moment to consider the timing of what he was about to say. He would’ve done things differently, waited until they had spent more time together, but because she was bringing it up . . .

  “For what it’s worth, I deserved it. After everything that happened—”

  “And here we are,” Skye interrupted, her cheeks pinking. She jerked the wheel into the parking lot.

  So, Skye had simply wanted to poke the fire, blow and stir the ashes just enough to make the embers glow. It made sense. This would be their dance, he suspected: shuffling closer, then breaking from the heart of the matter again and again, more and more, until one moment, one unexpected moment, she was ready.

  And for him? He had waited fourteen years. He could easily wait a little longer.

  The car slid into the first available parking space beneath the gas station’s sign: Luke’s.

  Skye popped her door open and Theo followed suit.

  As for Luke, Theo had a theory. And it was time to test it. “I’m guessing Luke is still that same lovable, easygoing man I had the pleasure of meeting?”

  On that fateful night fourteen years ago, Luke was 280 pounds of pure muscle who had a keen enjoyment of watching martial arts videos and practicing in his living room. He was part of Skye’s long-running friend group and apparently had been waiting for a heroic opportunity to put his homegrown skills to use. Hence, after Theo had made that fateful mistake of running to Skye’s friend’s house to try to talk to her, the broken nose.

  Skye’s eyes twinkled as she grabbed hold of the front door. “You nailed it.”

  So there it was. Luke was Skye’s attempt at a bit of revenge.

  Theo grinned.

  The doors jingled as they entered and slipped past rows of chips and chocolate bars, ATM machines, and quarter slots for M&M’s. They walked toward the man behind the register. He was holding something up to a customer, and as the customer stepped aside, Theo saw all of him. The gas station’s logo on the lime green T-shirt was stretched across his chest almost to the point of being unreadable. The chiseled jaw was gone, replaced with baby-face cheeks, victim of a recent sunburn. The bowl cut was gone, replaced with much fewer, tender-looking hairs. A single gust of wind could cause them to fly off like dandelions in spring. But the most startling change of all was his face.

  His wide, positively buoyant face.

  Luke caught their eyes and stretched out his arms. “Theo! You came just in time.”

  Chapter 8

  Skye

  If Skye’s confusion grew any stronger, the contortions of her forehead would seal her eyes shut. As it was, she barely managed to follow Theo as he walked up to the register.

  “Luke,” Theo said, reaching across the glass and giving him a shoulder pat. “It’s good to see you.”

  Luke beckoned to Skye. “Come see this. I need both of your opinions.”

  It took a few moments, but Skye forced herself to shuffle forward to form the strange triangle of people. Luke rested his elbows on the counter and leaned forward. He tapped the envelope as he spoke in hushed tones. “I have . . . in my hand . . . at this very moment . . . the secret to the baby’s gender.”

  Well, it wasn’t the super, ultrasecret, undercover plan to save the world, but it was still something.

  Skye’s eyes widened. “I thought Tracy didn’t want to know.”

  Luke waggled his eyebrows. “She doesn’t. Just got back from the doctor yesterday. She had him write it on a piece of paper and seal it up so we could take it to Blackbird Bakery and get a cake made for the shower, you know, pink in the center if it’s a girl, blue if it’s a boy.” (To his credit, Luke looked like he was about to burst out of his shirt with excitement.) “Anyway, she forgot she had a highlighting appointment for one of her clients, so she gave this to me and made me promise I wouldn’t look.” He looked at the envelope in his hand like it was a treasure map. His blue eyes shone like a baby’s. “And I’m keeping my word.” He pushed it in Skye’s face. “Read it.”

  “No way.” Skye threw up her hands and took a step back. “Your wife would kill me.”

  “C’mon,” Luke urged, leaning farther over the counter to push the envelope her way. “Read it.”

  “Absolutely not,” Skye said, moving behind a row of candy bars for good measure.

  “Aw, c’mon, Skye, I can’t read it myself. I made an oath.”

  “So you give it to everyone else who comes in here and try to figure it out by their reactions? Heck no. I’ve experienced the wrath of a pregnant woman. And that w
as over the one time I accidentally threw away her yogurt. Can you imagine what she’d do to you—to me—if she found out we knew the sex of her baby?”

  Luke, who was looking more like the retired version of Mr. Incredible by the moment, put his fist on the counter and dropped his head. But a moment later, he was popping back up, smile back in place. “Theo. I know I can count on you.”

  Theo put up both hands. “You know I’d love to—”

  “You won’t even have to say it out loud,” Luke pressed. “Just read it to yourself.”

  The corner of Theo’s mouth tugged upward until it formed a wry smile. “Why? To see if you can guess by my expression?”

  Luke pointed to Theo. “Exactly.” He looked down at the scribbled back of a receipt. “So far I have three eyebrow raises and two winks.”

  “Which leads you to believe . . . ?” Theo said.

  “It’s a girl. Naturally.”

  Theo shook his head. “Well, a fifth girl would be eyebrow raising for sure. I look forward to hearing the official word in due time. But in the meantime, I believe we are here for a reason.” Theo glanced toward Skye. “Right, Skye?”

  What was going on? Who were these people? In what parallel universe had she landed?

  She shook herself back to the matter at hand. “Right. We’re here to pick up the tractor.”

  Luke reached beneath the register and tossed her the key.

  “Thanks, Luke,” Skye said, closing her fingers around it. “It’ll be back by dinnertime.”

  “Take your time,” Luke said, already back to staring at the tally marks on the back of the receipt.

  They had just reached the door and opened it when Luke called out, “And Skye?”

  Skye turned at the sound of her name. “Yes?”

  Luke grinned. “Good to see the Evergreen Twins back together again.”

  Chapter 9

  Theo

  Theo couldn’t help smiling as he reached out to catch Skye stumbling off the curb. They walked toward the tractor parked beside two dumpsters.