by R. K. Ryals
I stared at the house where Tansy slept.
After my dream the night before, I wondered if she dreamt about me, too, or if her head was too full for that. Her troubled eyes told a thousand stories, none of them a tale about a reserved girl. Tansy wasn’t shy. Lonely, maybe, but who she’d been before her mother’s death was still there, lurking. When she smiled or laughed, I caught glimpses of it.
She was a white knight, someone who’d stepped up and done what she had to do to get her family through a tough time. In many ways, she and I were the same, those similarities connecting us the same way a chance meeting on a roof had.
The house’s front door opened, and I straightened, my hands sliding into my blue jean pockets.
Hetty stepped into the yard, her gaze finding the overgrown lot where I waited.
She shaded her eyes. “A little early, aren’t you?” she called.
“My brother had somewhere to be,” I answered, making my way over to her. “I don’t mind waiting.”
In her pastel blouse and light khaki pants, Hetty looked nothing like her oldest granddaughter. She was too put together.
She studied me. “Did you get to eat this morning?”
“I’m not really a breakfast person. If you’ve got some coffee, I’ll take that though.”
Nodding at the clinic, she walked, gesturing for me to follow. “I’ll put some on at the clinic. Deena’s still asleep, and Tansy is going to be leaving for the orchard soon. She wanted to finish something for your grandfather before she sets up some of the landscaping projects here.”
“That’s good,” I murmured.
Unlocking the clinic door, Hetty glanced at me. “Do you like my granddaughter?”
Somehow I knew she’d get around to asking me that question, but I needed more caffeine before I could promise an answer that wouldn’t flunk her out-of-nowhere test. I paused, staring at her. She scrutinized me, criticism written all over her face. Nothing like my grandfather, but I found that oddly comforting. Pops looked at me in a ‘you might be wrong, but you can fix it’ kind of way. Hetty’s stare told me I needed to think before I made a mistake. The criticism felt good, and I realized I liked being held accountable. Someone should have done that for my mother a long time ago.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “I like her.”
Frowning, Hetty let herself into the building, holding the door open for me. “She’s only seventeen.”
Taking the door from her, I stepped into the orange lobby. The smell of medicated shampoos assaulted my nose. “I forget that, you know? She doesn’t act like it.”
Hetty grunted, walked to a Keurig coffee machine, grabbed a bottle of water from a cabinet underneath it, and poured the contents into the water reservoir. “She doesn’t, does she?” Hetty asked, sighing. Slipping a Styrofoam cup under the machine, she plunked in a dark roast coffee, and pushed the big cup button. “I hate that she doesn’t. Is that wrong to admit?”
When she directed her gaze at me, I threw my hands up. “I am the worst person to ask.”
The machine gurgled, finishing, and Hetty offered me the cup.
“I feel like I abandoned my grandkids,” she confessed. “After their mother, my daughter, passed, I came here, and I let myself forget about everything outside of losing her. I didn’t realize my son-in-law would handle it the way he did.”
Blowing on the coffee, I shrugged. “We all cope with stuff differently, I guess.”
I didn’t want her to quit talking because my curiosity had become a beast who needed to be assuaged, but I also didn’t know how to reply.
“Tansy took too much on,” Hetty continued. “She went to work and dropped out of school when she was sixteen. Before that, she played nurse to her dad and helped take care of the house until he got to the point he couldn’t work anymore. That’s too much responsibility for a kid that age.”
“What about her brother?” I asked.
“Jet?” Hetty ran a hand over her face. “He’s been running since their mom passed. He did what he had to do for himself, worked to help pay bills, finished school, and then left. It sounds selfish, but it probably saved him from the deeper pains.”
“Maybe,” I agreed. “Maybe not.”
Hetty made herself a cup of coffee, and then leaned against the front desk, her narrowed gaze on my face. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I admit that. Age aside, Tansy’s too old for me now. Mentally, I don’t know how to connect with where she is. Deena’s at a place, even as angry as she is, that I feel more comfortable with. But that doesn’t mean I’m not watching Tansy, that I’m not watching every single move you make Eli Lockston.”
Not every move, I thought.
“Are you warning me away or just giving me boundaries, Mrs. Anderson?”
“Just be careful. I don’t think you’re a bad kid, and there’s no telling what the hell Tansy’s already done the last few years. However, here and now belongs to me, and I don’t want to see her hurt.”
Taking a swallow of coffee, I watched her. “I don’t make a lot of promises. Seems ridiculous, in my opinion, to vow to do something when you’re not sure you can actually do it. I won’t promise to be careful, but I do promise not to hurt her.”
The lobby brightened as the sun moved, and I realized how tired Tansy’s grandmother appeared.
“Tell me something about yourself, Eli. What do you want to do with your life?”
The question sat there between us, a layer of hidden meanings behind it. Her eyes told me she was trying with me. That she was giving this and her granddaughters everything she knew to give. Whether it was enough or not was something I couldn’t judge.
“I like to box,” I told her. “I don’t think I’ll make a career out of it, but I’m invested in the sport. I’m studying naval architecture or was until all of the trouble I’ve had with DUIs. Over seventy percent of the earth is covered in water. I want to design ships and marine crafts.”
Hetty’s eyes widened, surprise flickering in their depths.
Gulping down more coffee, I smiled wryly. “You didn’t expect that, did you? Most people don’t when they look at me, but I’m serious about what I want to do. I’ve wanted to be on the water since the day my grandfather first took me out onto the ocean. He was a naval officer in his day.”
“And you’re going to study that in Georgia?”
“In Michigan,” I revealed. “I actually did better in high school than I look, too. Admit it, I look like a failure to you, don’t I?” I asked, winking. “Top fifteen of my class. I got accepted to the University of Michigan, but had to put it off with all of the legal trouble.”
“I am surprised,” she acknowledged. “How much of that does Tansy know?”
“None of the college stuff. Just the interest in boats and boxing. I’m not sure she needs to know about my aspirations right now. She just needs to get past this summer.”
A car door slammed outside, and Hetty shook herself. “Maybe you’re not such a terrible influence, Mr. Lockston.”
“Oh, I’m an awful one. Don’t doubt that, Mrs. Anderson. Keep that close eye on me you promised to keep.”
The clinic door swung open, revealing a breathless Vanessa, her blonde hair as poufy as it was the last time I saw her. Jeans and a yellow chemise top blurred past.
“Hey,” she said breathlessly, glancing between Hetty and me. “Am I late?”
“No,” Hetty assured, “we’re early.
“Oh, good,” Vanessa breathed, relieved.
She peered up at me, smiling, and I saluted her with my coffee.
“Eli,” she crooned. “Do you need help with any of your stuff today?”
“Danny should be here by now,” Hetty interceded, throwing me a look.
Brows raised, I walked to the door, Hetty on my heels.
“You keeping people from flirting with me now, Mrs. Anderson?” I asked.
She shook her head. “You were the one who warned me to keep a close eye on you, Mr. Lockston. I’m saving Vanessa the trouble.�
��
“Saving her the trouble or protecting Tansy?”
“Danny will be inside the rescue building,” she informed me, changing the subject.
Grinning, I turned and sauntered away from her. “Don’t expect a lot from me,” I warned her over my shoulder.
“I won’t,” she returned.
Throwing her a quick glance, I noticed the smile that played along her lips before she ducked into the clinic.
Danny came out of the rescue, leaned down to pick up a water hose, and caught sight of me. “Eli!” he exclaimed, waving.
“Ready to put me to work?” I asked him, drawing near.
His grin overtook his entire face. “I like the company.”
“Good deal.” I smiled at him. “I don’t mind it myself.”
He led me to the rescue, and I glanced back just in time to see Tansy walk out of her grandmother’s house wearing a red sundress that stopped at her knees.
I froze.
At the van, she looked up, caught sight of me, and stared. Her chin rose defiantly.
Something had changed between us, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about the unease which suddenly gripped my gut. Looking at her now, it felt oddly like I was looking at someone I was in a relationship with. Not a friend. As if we’d crossed into that territory without realizing it.
She was the first to turn away.
Climbing into the van, she left.
“I like her,” Danny said cheerfully. “She’s nice.”
Brought out of my reverie, I turned to him. “I wore boots today.”
“That’s smart,” he replied seriously, his gaze going to the yard. “Is Ms. Tansy your girlfriend?”
“No,” I answered. “Just a friend.”
It felt like a lie.
“Hey, Danny, what do you think of girls?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Some of them are nice and some of them are mean. Boys are the same. I like the ones who smile at me. The ones who don’t look at me like I’m different.”
“Those are the good ones, huh?”
“Yeah.” He walked toward the dog pens. “That’s what’s important,” he said matter-of-factly. “When they look at you like you’re okay. Not like they think you should be different, but that you’re just okay.”
His answer, because it was so innocent, struck me hard.
“Yeah, I think you’re right.”
Despite the stench, the mess, and the yipping dogs, I enjoyed the work. I enjoyed Danny’s presence, his easy chatter, and the way he loved on each animal as if they were his own. It made me want to look at the world the way he did.
“What do you see when you look at me?” I asked him later that afternoon.
He grinned. “Giant Eli! You’re one of the nice ones.”
That was all he said. I was one of the nice ones.
I’ll be damned.
THIRTY-THREE
Tansy
The orchard welcomed me with sunshine and peace the same way it had since the beginning. Despite the family who called it home and the occasional drama it was witness to, Lockston Orchard had something special about it.
Marking a new flower bed in the yard, I took it in, the fresh air unfettered by noxious odors and troubling thoughts.
Grinning, I remembered the way Pops’ wife looked in the photo he’d shown me—all smiles under a white trellis covered in roses. Magic. That was it. The orchard was full of magic.
Whistling, I worked and dreamed.
Hours passed, my only company hot breezes and whispering wildlife. This kind of company—the untamed, natural type—was the kind of company I preferred.
“Do you have to be so loud?” a voice asked, annoyed.
Startled, my head shot up to find Eli’s mother in the yard, watching me, mascara streaking her cheeks.
In this haven, this sunshine-filled world, seeing her standing there, her eyes black from the makeup and her hair tangled around her shoulders, was disconcerting.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Do I look okay?”
My gaze flew to the house. “Is Pops here?”
“Somewhere,” she answered, waving her hand dismissively. Sitting in the grass, she began to rock back and forth. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. “God, I hate this!”
Stepping away from the flowers I’d just planted, I clutched a trowel in my hand. “What’s wron—”
“It’s an anxiety attack, okay,” she fumed. “I just need to sit still a moment.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
For a long time I stood there, afraid to do anything; move, talk, or scream. Her anxiety didn’t bother me. It was her that bothered me.
“I know people don’t like me,” she said suddenly. “I really do know that.”
“Ummm …”
“Don’t say anything if you don’t mean it.”
“Okay.” I set down the trowel. “I don’t like you. Is that what you want to hear?”
She stared up at me. “Why?”
“Do you really want me to answer that?”
Her eyes narrowed. “He told you, didn’t he?”
When I didn’t answer, she glared at me. “I did what I thought was best for them.”
“For them or for you?”
“You don’t know me!” she cried, her arms tightening around her legs.
Unexpected sympathy washed over me. She’d come to the yard, found me working there, and stayed. Why? I had no idea, but even if she didn’t need to hear what I thought about her, I found myself, saying, “No, I don’t, but what I do know I don’t understand, and I find that hard to relate to.”
Her rocking stilled. “Everyone has secrets. Everyone. You can’t tell me you haven’t done something that you don’t want anyone to know about. That you’d more than likely do it again if given the chance.”
My night in the bathroom sent spiraling waves of regret into my heart.
There’s a difference between hurting yourself and hurting others, right?
“You hurt them,” I muttered.
Face flushing, she stood. “Listen, you—”
The door on the porch creaked, thrown open by an angry Pops.
“What do you think you’re doing, Ivy?” he ranted.
She scowled. “Spending some quality time with my son’s new girlfriend.”
“Frie—” I started, and then stopped because, honestly, I wasn’t sure what Eli and I were anymore. All of the previous things I’d labeled us as—roof buddies, karma acquaintances, and friends—didn’t seem to fit.
“Come in, Ivy,” Pops ordered. “You need to pace this off and rest.”
Mumbling, she brushed past me, brows furrowed. “I’m not a monster.”
“No,” I said abruptly, “I never thought you were, but what you did was wrong.”
Shoulders slumping, she disappeared into the house, leaving Pops and I alone in the yard, leaving the day brighter in her absence.
We stared at each other.
“You know that picture you showed me? The one of your wife?” I asked finally, nervous butterflies taking flight in my stomach.
Pops inclined his head.
“I’d like to make that garden. Not recreate it exactly. I’d just like to build something like it. Big. Beautiful. A sanctuary.”
His head lifted, his gaze roaming over the trees, the fields, and the lawns surrounding us. So much space. It was exhilarating.
“I’d do it without pay,” I said quickly. “Since it would cost so much for the stuff.”
His gaze lowered, finding my face. “I’m not worried about the money, Tansy.” He took a step down onto the stairs. “Build it,” he said. “Something tells me it would do us all some good.” His gaze went distant, remembering. “Everyone should have a garden.”
“Thank you.”
He smiled. “Have you ever thought about going to school for this?”
The question left me quiet, the orchard’s surroundings growing vivid, blocking out my troubled th
oughts. The sun, the smell of the grass, the dandelion seeds that went flying every time the wind blew. Heat, soil, and sunshine.
“When my brother went to college, I helped him with a lot of his paperwork. The applications and programs he was looking into. There was one called environmental science which caught my eye.”
“You should do that.”
“I dropped out of school, Mr. Lockston.”
He took another step down. “I know. Your grandmother told me.” He studied my face. “Most colleges will accept a GED, Tansy. It wouldn’t be easy. You’d need to take the ACT or SAT, maybe start out in a junior college, but you could go.”
I shrugged.
“Are you afraid?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Maybe.”
“Want a little advice?” He stepped onto the lawn, his hands sliding into his pockets. “Determination often gets us where we need to be, but fear pushes us to the end. Let fear be the push, not the hindrance.”
Winking, he turned, marched up the stairs, and disappeared into the house.
I stared after him, his words ringing through my head. My gaze fell, and I started walking, my feet carrying me over the yard to the lane leading into the orchard. The sun, even as cruel as it was in summer, felt good, a strong breeze keeping it from being harsh. Dust kicked up around my feet, sweat beading up along my brow.
Trees flanked me, their presence silent sentinels.
When they opened up onto the hill overlooking the valley, I stopped, my eyes on the glittering pond and diving birds below.
A new feeling, a terrifying one I’d given up on, blossomed inside of me.
Dreams. I’d given up on dreams.
My gaze fell to the ground, and I leaned over, picking a dandelion standing in the grass. Silently, I blew on it, watching the seeds go flying, diving and ducking on the breeze. They fanned out, soaring over the valley, some of them climbing, others falling, but they all flew. Every single one of them, whether they rose or fell.
THIRTY-FOUR
Eli
The dogs were quiet when we ushered them back into their pens at the end of the day, fresh bowls of food and water waiting for them. Two pens remained empty, the dogs adopted that morning.
