by Edie Ramer
And today, eighteen years since he first left Wisconsin, his body was doing the same thing.
She guessed hers was having the same effect on him. She hoped it was.
“You and I were like the sun and the moon coming together,” he said.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not possible.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
She pushed her hair back from her face. “It’s possible with us. Without any planetary explosions.”
“I’ll come back.” His eyes glinted. “Next time I’ll be prepared.”
She looked him in his eyes, not grinning, not smiling – as serious as the divorce papers she’d left on the kitchen counter. “Don’t take too long. I’m not waiting for any man anymore.”
“I’ll remember.” He stared at her for a long moment, then he took out a piece of paper and pointed at the pile of stuff by the big doors at the front. “Here’s the list and here’s the bill. You can call Marsh to check it.”
“I will,” she said.
It took another twenty minutes to look at the pile of parts and signs and a few things she didn’t even know the names of, but she trusted he wrote the right things down. She’d been let down big-time by Jim. But she had to keep trusting or she’d be angry and bitter for the rest of her life.
As she stood on the front porch and watched Trey drive away, his last words echoed in her ears and her mind and her heart.
‘I’ll be back for you, Becky,’ he’d said. And then he gave her the slow smile that creased the dimples in his cheeks and slit his eyes and made her chest, plus a few other places, feel as though a match flared up inside her. “I’ll be back.”
Heading into the house, she remembered she was going out to eat with Derek tonight.
After this last hour with Trey, it was going to be hard to give Derek her full attention.
Chapter Twelve
Sitting across from Becky at the table for two, Derek looked spruced up and young. He glistened like one of the silver candlesticks in her father’s house. His shiny purple shirt wouldn’t look out of place on a hip-hop star, and Becky suspected he’d bought it for tonight. Probably he’d gone to Wausau to shop so no one from Miracle would see him. He was dressed better than she was in her black slacks and red top that was too loose since she’d lost weight.
She wished now she’d taken her skinny clothes to Sarah’s house. She hadn’t dreamed she might fit into them again.
Sarah had offered to let her wear one of her tops, but Becky had thanked her and said it wasn’t necessary. She hadn’t expected Derek to look so...good.
As she read the menu, she suspected her thinness wouldn’t last long. Did Italians like everything with cream or cheese or both in it? Or were those the Americanized versions? Or just the menu items that caught her eye?
Why were the things that looked so good so bad for her?
That made her think of Trey. Not for long, though, because he wasn’t here and the food was. She was ravenous. While looking at the menu she’d found her lost appetite and realized she hadn’t exactly lost it. It had just gone on sick leave.
Now she was healthy again – and perhaps not so sad – and she wanted to order half the items on the menu. And all the desserts. In fact, she wanted to live here and never, ever leave.
The waiter came with their wine, a sweet Riesling for her and a Chardonnay for Derek. After the waiter left with their order, Derek leaned across the table toward her.
“I heard what you did today.”
Her heartbeats thudded in her ears and she clutched the table edge. Lately, life felt like a carnival ride and she needed to hang on tight.
Did the whole town know she’d necked with Trey in the storage building? That she’d been ready to do more, but he backed off and gave her the ‘you’re not ready, and I don’t want to take advantage of your fragile emotions’ line? Not in those words, but that’s what he’d meant.
As if Trey didn’t know she wanted to take advantage of him.
“Heard about what?” she asked, her voice squeaking as she tried to think up excuses for being in the building with Trey for so long.
Derek reached across the table and held out his hand. She unclenched hers from the table edge. Feeling like she was having an out-of-body moment, she grabbed his hand as if it were her lifeline. As if without it, she’d fall into the deepest part of Lake Miracle and she needed to hang on or drown.
“That you filed for divorce.”
“Oh...” Relief made her heartbeat slow and her muscles relax. She let go of his hand and gave him a grateful smile.
He smiled back. His eyes smiled, too. But on second look, she saw they weren’t really smiling. They were...
Smoldering?
Her breath sucked in.
“Yes, I did.” She grabbed her wine glass and realized she wasn’t moping or devastated or even angry at Jim. Instead, it was as if she’d whipped through the seven stages of grief in the short time since she’d discovered him in his church office with Diana. As if she’d mourned the loss of him before it happened.
Her life with Jim seemed almost seemed like someone else’s life.
Except she knew that was wishful thinking. Maybe today she was okay. But tomorrow she might be in the depths again. Nothing was this easy, especially not divorce.
“I hope he doesn’t give you any trouble,” Derek said.
She looked at his face straight on and a great affection for him rose up inside her. But not that kind of affection. Not as a lover. More like an affection for a good friend who was feeding her one of her favorite foods.
Her voice was an octave too high when she changed the subject to the restaurant and the food. His eyes changed to... Eyes. Just eyes. Whatever she’d seen or thought she’d seen was no longer there.
It must have been just her imagination – that impression that every man she was alone with for a few minutes was mad for her body.
She had to stop this. It wasn’t as if she wanted or needed a man in her life. Right now the only male she considered living with had four feet, black fur and a tail.
The waiter came with their bread and soup. As soon as he left, she said, “Remember Goldie’s black puppy?”
He nodded, a slight crease on his forehead. She recalled that the puppy had peed on the toe of his shoes when he picked her up to take her to the restaurant. But he’d laughed and used a paper towel to wipe it off.
“A friendly guy,” he said. “Very sharing.”
She laughed, loosening up. She hoped she was hiding her surprise at his play on words.
There was more to Derek than she’d thought.
“We’ve bonded these last couple of days,” she said. “I’d love to keep him, but I can’t see how that could work.”
“He’d be a good watchdog for when you move into your own place. Friendly, but a barker.”
“And a pee-er.”
Cutting the bread, he laughed more than her comment deserved and his eyes crinkled into slits.
“I’d have to find a place that would accept pets,” she added.
“I can’t think of anyone in Miracle who allows pets for renters. And labs have a bad reputation for chewing.”
“I probably won’t stay in Miracle. I’ll need a job and there aren’t any in Miracle that I know of.” She gave a smile that insisted on teetering. She grabbed the glass of water to hide her wobble. Another scary part of this new life... But other women had been through this, and they managed. She would, too.
“I do a lot of websites for businesses in the area,” Derek said. “I could ask around. Check and see what’s available.”
A rush of gratitude clogged her throat. “Thanks for being a good friend.” She heard the huskiness in her voice. As if tears weren’t far behind.
Dipping his bread in the herbed olive oil, he hesitated then gazed at her. The look in his eyes was intent, as if he were trying to see what was in her mind. And his face... It shone. As if lit from within.
He
r hand holding the spoonful of minestrone shook. Maybe it was because of the way he looked at her, so tenderly, but she was feeling...amorous.
Her spoon shook more, drops spilling. Good grief, this was ridiculous.
He dropped the crust, then reached up to steady her hand and guided it down to the cup. Her gaze followed the spoon. She couldn’t look at his face anymore – it was too...unsettling. She wasn’t ready for...whatever this was leading to.
“Look at me,” he said, his voice low. And her gaze whipped up to his face. He didn’t let go of her hand, and she released the spoon, her fingers nerveless, her heart fluttering wildly.
“I want to be more than a friend.”
She opened her mouth but no words came out. It wasn’t that her voice was stuck. It was her brain.
Are you crazy? Look at me. I’m seven years older than you. You could have a twenty-one year old if you put some effort into it.
Another part of her was picking out something sexy to wear to bed with him.
“Jim was a jerk to cheat on you,” he went on, in the voice men used when they were on the edge of desperation. When they really wanted to convince the other person of something. A voice she never expected to hear from Derek. Or any man. She wasn’t the kind of woman men said that to. She was too...unexciting. Too ordinary.
But she nodded for him to go on. That she was listening. Boy, was she listening. She felt oddly composed now, though her heart thundered inside her chest. As if she were watching a movie where the leading man said this to an older actress, and Becky was waiting for the actress to answer him...rooting for him. Wanting him to have his happy ever after.
“I know it’s early,” he continued, “but can you tell me if there’s a chance you’ll feel the same way about me?”
A moment went by while she stared at him. Waiting for the actress to answer him.
At the table behind them, someone laughed. A waitress threaded between tables, carrying two plates with pasta and some kind of meat that smelled like oregano and mozzarella. Two of her favorite smells.
“If it’s ‘no,’” he said, his voice so low she had to lean in to hear him, “then tell me. I’ll still be your friend.”
Damn it. She’d have to answer. She put her hand over her forehead and leaned in another inch. “It is too early.” And then seeing the stillness in his face, the tension in his clenched jaws, she hurriedly said, “But, yes. There’s a chance.”
He sat back, smiling, his shoulders loosening, his back taller, the tension visibly rolling off him.
She smiled back and thought of all the reasons she should have declined. But all she’d said was that there was a chance. And so what if he were seven years younger? If their sexes were switched, no one would think twice about it. Diana was a good ten years younger than Jim.
Not that she wanted to be a man. Or to have her circumstances compared to Diana’s and Jim’s.
Today she quite liked being a woman.
“Good,” he said. “Good.”
She started eating her soup, her hand steady again. Eating was safe. Talking wasn’t always safe. There wasn’t anything to say right now anyway. By the time it was reasonable for her to be looking around, she’d know what she wanted.
Warmth settled inside her. Her friend Derek thought of her that way. He wanted to make love to her.
The idea astounded her, and at the same time thrilled her. She liked the idea. Liked it a lot.
For so many years she’d felt almost sexless. But now she felt desirable – and a bit wicked.
Derek asked what kind of job she was looking for, and her ‘feeling-like-a-sex-symbol moment’ deflated.
“I’m not qualified for anything.” She glanced around the restaurant. “I could waitress.” If anyone wanted her. “Or cook.” She was a decent cook.
“You should get half the money. If Jim—”
“I do have half the joint bank account and any investments will be shared.” She shrugged. She would’ve given Jim credit for that, but she put some of his compliance and generosity down to the photos of him and Diana. Plus, her father was still backing Jim. But if Jim treated her badly on the financial end, her father might change his mind.
“I have enough to get by for a while,” she said. “If I’m frugal. But I have to think of the future. I don’t have social security. I need to build up equity in myself.”
“What do you want to do?”
Be a mom. The waiter came with her mushroom ravioli, and she managed to keep her smile on even though gnarled monster talons reached into her chest and squeezed her heart.
She went through the motions of eating – taking a bite and chewing – and the squeezing eased. The talons disappeared and slunk into hiding. Hypervigilant. Ready to spring out another day.
“I don’t have any natural talents.” She took another bite and this one she was able to enjoy. If she could only cook like this—
“You do have a talent,” he said. “You make people feel comfortable.”
She put down her fork. “That’s called being a people pleaser.”
“It’s more than that. You have a talent for making people feel that you care. I’ve always felt that way around you.”
She took a sip of wine before answering. “I always cared about you.”
His mouth broke into another wide smile. As if she’d given him his greatest wish.
Her stomach clenched with a mix of dread and excitement.
What had she started now?
And what next?
Chapter Thirteen
They lingered at the table, long after the meal. Becky sipped an extra glass of wine, something she hadn’t done since her wedding night. Finally only two other tables were occupied and they left. On the way out, Derek took her hand and she curled her fingers around his. She felt lighter than usual. It was partly the wine, but mostly she just felt happy.
“I’ll remember this,” he said.
“Me, too.” She felt young tonight. On a date with a cute guy whose eyes shone every time he looked at her. Even on the street now, she could see the sappy expression on his face.
As she smiled at him, he bent forward as if he were going to kiss her. On a public street. With lights shining from every window and four street lamps on this side of the street.
Panic rose in her throat and chest, and she broke away from him. She hurried to his car parked in front of the laundromat two doors down.
Once inside the car, the panic diminished. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean anything. It’s just that...” Just that she was stupidly embarrassed. She was even embarrassed to say she was embarrassed.
This dating thing was hard.
“Technically, you’re still married,” he said, the car starting. “I understand.”
She thought he probably did. She leaned back and a lethargy swept over her. A happy lethargy. Her body relaxed. Feeling taken care of.
She remained wrapped in the glow as they drove out of the city. Stars blanketed the night sky and twinkled down on them like a magical scene out of a Disney movie. Cold Play was on Derek’s car stereo and the waistband of her slacks was still comfortable.
She felt like a different woman. She was a different woman. No longer the quiet, responsible one who never smoked weed, who never dirty danced in public, who’d only made love to one man.
She still had never done any of that...but the last one might change sometime soon.
It occurred to her that she had a lot to make up for. She’d lived a tame life, and right now she wanted to get a little wild.
Too soon the headlights shone on the village sign that said there was a population of six hundred twenty-nine. Becky shivered. When they’d driven to Tomahawk tonight, she’d thought she was going to dinner with a friend. Odd to feel so different on the drive back home. As if she were in high school and wondering what was going to happen when they reached her house. As if she’d stepped into an alternate universe.
In a couple minutes they were at Sarah’s
house. The lights were out at the Webber’s across the street. Derek pulled his car into the driveway and parked at the side of the house. A row of trees blocked his car from anyone else’s view.
No one could see them.
The wind picked up, and it gusted down the street. Derek’s breaths were harsh and fast. With an edge to them. Her heart thumped and inside the car the tension level elevated. Her skin heated and prickled.
If she stayed any longer, she would have to take her coat off.
She would have to take all her clothes off.
Her gaze remained forward, her spine straight, but she could feel Derek’s stare. She could feel her breasts tighten. She tightened all over.
“Remember when I asked you to the restaurant?” he asked, his voice thicker than normal. “You said, ‘I’d love to be your first.’”
“Yes.” She heard her voice. A whisper. Softer than the wind.
When he didn’t reply right away, she looked at him. His forehead was furrowed, his shoulders stiff. He gave off vibrations of distress. Of pain. Emotional pain, not physical.
A sound came out of her mouth, and she leaned sideways, her hand on his forearm. His arm clenched, as if her touch caused him more pain. Instead of letting him go, she wrapped her fingers around his arm.
“What is it? What’s wrong, Derek?”
“Did you mean it?” His voice croaked low with an emotion she couldn’t name, and he stared into her eyes, as if he tried to read her mind in the darkness. “About being my first?”
“I came to the restaurant with you. So, yes... It was my pleas—”
He pulled his arm away from her, and she yanked her hand back to her side. In the dim light, she could see the withdrawal in his face. She’d said something wrong, but she didn’t know what.
“Not my first for the restaurant.” His voice was muffled and he looked ahead at the two-car garage.
And slowly, like watching simmering water turn to a boil, she got what he meant.
In his awkward, clumsy, nerdy way, he was asking her to...
