As soon as breakfast was over, Izzie packed up her overnight bag and hugged Olivia goodbye then headed home to her houseful of Mel. Olivia camped out on the sofa with a blanket and the remote. She watched her old standby, HGTV. Clete fussed and worried over her a bit, feeling her forehead for fever with his lips, and gave her some 7-Up to help settle her stomach.
He started to leave the room but she called him back to her. She curled up against him on the sofa while they watched professional decorators transform homes with character into bland shoeboxes and declare them amazing transformations anyone would love. Nine times out of ten Olivia preferred the original, tacky décor, but she kept watching, figuring if she watched enough of these shows she would eventually develop good-taste through osmosis.
Clete was warm and comfortable and made her feel secure. Maybe it was because he was a father, or maybe it was because he was a cop, but something about being in his arms made her feel safe and made her not want to leave his side. His breathing pattern was exactly right for resting her head on his chest and forgetting the rest of the world existed. It was like being gently rocked, his heart a soothing lullaby. Before she knew it, she found the sleep that had eluded her all night.
* * *
She awoke with a start a few hours later and found herself in Clete’s house all alone.
Clete had left chili in a crock pot and a note with instructions for making the cornbread if she wanted it. He also mentioned something about an emergency, saying he would be home as soon as he could, but left no other details. Fearing it was something to do with Mitch, she tried to call Clete’s cell phone to find out what was going on, but he didn’t answer. She texted him to be careful and went outside to smoke.
Juicy Fruit was stretched out in the yard, napping in the sun. When he heard her open the door, he stood and stretched, yawning big, then came over and lay at her feet. She idly scratched his ears and smoked her Marlboro and watched the leaves rustle in the breeze. Juicy Fruit was great company, but the longer she sat with him the more she missed humans. She didn’t know how Eugene did it. She’d go stir-crazy if her only friend were a dog.
At six she went back inside and attempted baking for the first time in her life. She followed Clete’s instructions to the letter, but the cornbread came out of the oven as hard as a brick. She didn’t want to waste it but didn’t think it was fair to make Juicy Fruit eat it, so she spread a thick coating of peanut butter on it and covered it in sunflower seeds like she’d done to pinecones in school when she was a kid, and set it out for the birds. She waited until eight and when Clete still hadn’t come home, she texted him again and asked if he was ok.
The chili started to look a little dry, so she added some water then went back to the television. Mark Wahlberg was on two different channels. She flipped back and forth between the two and spent some time catching up with her old flame. He was still hot, but he was no George—or Clete for that matter.
Clete was kinda cute. She had to admit that he and George would make a handsome couple. As soon as she admitted it, the guilt she felt for keeping them apart crept up on her again. George needed to be complete, and she knew in her heart Clete was the person who could be that other part of him. It was selfish of her to keep him from his destiny with her wanton ways. If she loved George as much as she claimed she did, she was going to have to suck it up and let George go. It was the right thing to do.
Nine o’clock rolled around and still no Clete. It was the same at ten and again at eleven. She tried to call the station but it was one big run-around, so she hung up in frustration. Finally, right before midnight, Clete’s cruiser pulled into the driveway. He walked to the door in slow-motion, with his head down and the weight of the world pushing down upon him.
As soon as he opened the door, her fears boiled to the surface and she hauled out her giant box of Crayola-colored words on him, letting him have it for making her worry about him. He stood and listened to her tirade in silence. When she finished, without a word of apology, he moved to go around her toward his bedroom.
She grabbed his arm. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Nothing,” he answered. His eyes closed as he let out a sigh of dejection. “After the day I’ve had, I have nothing to say except I’m tired and I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Olivia.”
“What happened?” she asked, her anger forgotten, replaced by concern.
“Fatal accident on the highway. It was a mess.”
“Oh!” Olivia gasped, her hand slipping away from his arm.
“Goodnight, Olivia,” Clete repeated and headed for his room.
“Clete,” she called after him. As soon as he turned toward her, she threw her arms around his neck and gave him a tight, hearty hug.
He stiffened in surprise, but after a few heartbeats he surrendered and wrapped his arms around her waist, allowing her to comfort him for a change. They stood together with her arms holding him secure and his face pressed into her neck, his entire body tense as he struggled to support the weight of his emotions. Olivia ran her hand up and down his back in a slow, circular motion to help ease his tension.
Bit-by-bit, his body relaxed. As it did, he tightened his hold on her. His hands shifted and he stepped into her more, holding her closer and closer until his leg had slipped between hers and their bodies had all but fused together. It was like being wrapped in a Clete-cocoon and Olivia sighed in contentment.
“Thank you,” he whispered in her ear as he let her go.
“Anytime.” She ran a light hand down his cheek. “I’m always good for a hug, whenever you need one.”
They stood together for another long moment, with her hand on his cheek and their eyes locked together. Something changed in the air and Olivia took a breath to ask him if he felt it too, but he spoke first, his voice soft but firm.
“I think it’s time for you to go to bed.”
He pulled away from her and disappeared, leaving her suddenly alone in an empty room that was charged with an emotion she didn’t recognize.
She stood there for a moment longer trying to identify it. If she didn’t know better she would call it… No… It couldn’t be… Could it?
She shook her head to clear the thought from her mind, and retreated to the simplicity of Allie’s bedroom. She tried to go to sleep, but her heart had started beating in a different rhythm, making it impossible for her to close her eyes.
When her cell phone rang she welcomed the distraction and didn’t check the screen before flipping it open. “George!”
“Hello, Olivia.”
Her blood instantly turned to ice and she bolted upright.
“What do you want?” she demanded.
“What do you think I want?” Mitch asked.
Olivia didn’t answer him, but she was too scared to hang up. She was literally frozen in fear.
“You banging the faggot officer now?” Mitch laughed. “You really get around don’t you? But, then again, I always knew you were nothing more than a two-bit whore, just like your mother.”
“What are you talking about?” Olivia demanded.
“Sorry about your trailer. I heard it burned to a crisp.”
“You hear that from yourself?”
“Hey, I had nothing to do with it,” Mitch said, faking innocence. “Looks like you came out pretty good with the whole mess though. Didn’t quite cross the tracks, but at least you’re a few blocks closer to Northside. Kinda makes a person think maybe you set that fire yourself. Especially with the way you were shaking your ass and partying like it was your fucking birthday while they were dousing the flames.”
Olivia didn’t say anything.
“You used to dance like that with me, Olivia. I thought I was special.”
“You’re not special,” she said. “You’re exactly like every other asshole out there.”
“I thought you loved me.”
“I did. I was stupid.”
“We were going to get married. You said you loved me. You s
aid you wanted to be with me forever and then you fucking broke up with me in a text message! You know how bad that hurt me, Olivia?”
“About as bad as you hurt me when you beat the shit out of me that night on the river?” she challenged.
Silence on the other end of the line.
“Goodbye, Mitch.” She hung up.
“Where is he?”
Olivia whipped around to see Clete leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed over his chest and intense rage boiling below the surface of his exhaustion
“I have no idea.” Olivia looked at her cell phone as though it had the answer. “For all I know he’s sitting outside.”
Clete shut off the bedroom light, crossed over to the window, and pulled back the sheers. Olivia looked out with him. Taillights disappeared up the street, but there was no way to know if they had been Mitch’s. Clete called the station anyway and requested patrol, then took Olivia’s hand in his and asked, “Are you ok?”
“Yeah,” she assured him with a shrug and a smile she didn’t feel like smiling.
Clete squeezed her hand tight. “How bad did he hurt you?”
“Not bad,” she said with a shake of her head. It was a lie, but she didn’t want to talk about it. She’d hurt herself worse than Mitch’s fists ever had by returning to him time and again.
Keeping hold of her hand, Clete brought his other one up to her face and gently brushed her hair back. With a light touch, his fingertips instinctually traced the exact location where the worst of Mitch’s punches had landed, and then his hand traveled to the back of her neck. He pulled her in to place a gentle kiss on her forehead.
“Goodnight, Olivia,” he whispered as he placed a second gentle kiss on her cheek.
“Goodnight, Clete,” she whispered in reply as he let her go, confused by his touch yet wishing he would hold her for just a moment longer.
Clete returned to the living room and Olivia took her phone into the bathroom. She locked the door and drew a hot bath, adding some bubbles that smelled like strawberries. When the tub was full, she stripped down and called George.
“How did it go in court today?” She sank down into the water, slipping as low as she could and still keep the phone above surface. She didn’t mention Mitch. She didn’t want to worry him when there was nothing he could do about it.
“Not good.” George sighed. “I lost her, Liv.”
“How?” Olivia sat up so fast the water splashed over the edge of the tub.
“The kids had a better lawyer and they had the law on their side. I never should’ve tried.” His voice weary, he sounded defeated. “You know the worst part is they’re going to sell it. None of them want to run it. They just want the money. I had to prove that Kitty’s would stay running, that I would settle in Juliette and make a life there, and all they had to do was prove they were Helen’s kids. I bet it’s on the market before I get home.”
“I’m so sorry, George. That sucks.”
“Yeah, it does,” George agreed.
“So what are you going to do?”
“I have no idea.”
“When are you coming home?” she asked, hoping and praying he wouldn’t say ‘never.’ Without Kitty’s he didn’t have a reason to come back. Juliette was a shitty town. Nobody lived here by choice, just bad circumstance. If Olivia had the choice, she’d be on the next Greyhound bus to Anywhere-but-Here. But she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Eugene behind, so she’d be Here forever.
“I don’t know. I’ve got some things to finish up here and I haven’t had a lot of time with my parents. I wanted to take them out to dinner before I left, but I didn’t feel like doing it tonight,” George said. “I’ll be here another day, for sure. There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to my mom about and we haven’t had much of a chance. Maybe I’ll just take her to lunch and leave after that.”
“Are you staying with them?” Olivia asked. She had forgotten that his parents lived in Omaha. No wonder he hadn’t wanted her to go with him.
“Yeah,” George said with a bit of a laugh. “I’m in my old bedroom and everything. It’s like a shrine to fourteen-year-old George. It’s kinda creepy and pathetic, but at the same time not, you know? The bed’s too short though. My feet hang off the end.”
“Poor baby.” Olivia smiled.
“I should have brought you with me. My mom’s pissed that I didn’t.”
“You told her about me?” Olivia asked in surprise.
“Of course, I did.”
“What did you tell her about me?”
“Good stuff.”
“Like what?”
George laughed. “Are you fishing for a compliment?”
“Maaaybe.” She smiled and lifted one leg out of the water, watching the bubbles slide down her wet skin.
“Well… let’s see… I told my mom you were pretty…”
“Just pretty?” Olivia pouted.
“Beautiful.”
“That’s better,” she teased as she tucked her leg back under the bubbles.
“I told her you’re beautiful and funny, sexy and smart… and that you’re a huge pain in my ass.”
“You’re the ass.” Olivia laughed.
“I didn’t have to tell her too much though. She’s known about you since the night we first met.”
“She has?” Olivia asked in surprise.
“I called her as soon as I got home from Kitty’s that night.”
“You did?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because there was something special about you, and I… I don’t know… I felt like I wanted to share it with someone.”
“What’s so special about me?” Olivia asked.
“I don’t know. Like nothing and everything all at once… You came into Kitty’s that night wearing a pair of purple Converse tennis shoes and a t-shirt that said ‘good girls don’t poop,’ with your hair all piled up on your head in this bird’s nest of a mess… You slid a quarter in the jukebox and slapped your hand on the bar and called me Georgie Porgie Puddin’ and Pie. You drank five beers in an hour, annoyed the hell out of me, and refused to go home until I danced with you. And Liv, when we danced…” George took a deep breath and let it out slow. “I miss you, Baby Girl. Maybe I should blow off my date with my mom and come home now.”
“I wouldn’t object to that.” Olivia smiled. She scooped up a handful of bubbles and watched as they squished through her fingers when she closed her hand. “The water’s warm and there’s plenty of room for you in here.”
“Where are you?”
“In the tub, covered in strawberry bubbles.” She smiled bigger.
George smiled on his end. At the speed of light, it traveled the distance between them and slipped around her heart, warming her body and soul. “You’re killing me here, Liv. Not fair.”
“So come get me and I’ll kill you in person.”
“Tomorrow night,” he promised. “It might be late.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
“I love you, Baby Girl.”
“Sweet dreams, Georgie.”
She kissed the phone and let it slip out of her hand onto the bath mat, then slid under the surface of the water. No Kitty’s meant no George. He might stay for awhile, but he would leave eventually. He was a city boy, born and raised, and he belonged in Omaha. She always knew she would lose him someday, she just hated that it had happened so fast. She only hoped he would stick around long enough to hook up with Clete. She could handle that. It hurt less to lose your heart when two other hearts collided in the aftermath.
At least she hoped so.
When the bathwater chilled, she stepped out and dried off enough to not drip on the floor, then wrapped the towel around her body and tiptoed to the kitchen for a beer. The television in the living room was on, but Clete wasn’t watching it. He was sound asleep on the sofa, a soft snore rising from his chest. She opened the fridge very carefully to minimize the suction noise from the seal
so it wouldn’t wake him up, and grabbed a beer.
On her way back to bed, she picked up the remote and snapped the TV off. She looked down on Clete in the soft glow of the porch light seeping through the front windows and wondered for the hundredth time why he didn’t sleep in his bed. She’d asked him before, but he hadn’t answered her. Deep down, he had to know why.
“Go to bed, Olivia,” Clete mumbled, his words not interrupting his snores.
“George is coming home tomorrow,” she said.
“Good.”
“He lost Kitty’s.”
“I know.” He took a deep breath and cleared the sleep from his throat with a cough.
“You talked to him?” she asked in surprise.
“Yeah. This morning, while you were sleeping.”
“Oh.”
Clete opened his eyes and looked at her. “Little late for a beer isn’t it?”
“It five o’clock somewhere,” she said with a smile. She tipped her beer to him in cheers then took a long pull. “You want a drink?”
He held his hand out and sat up a bit. Olivia crossed the room and sat on the open spot of the sofa where his head had been, and handed him the beer. He took a drink then handed it back.
“Ok, now move,” Clete said.
“No. You should go sleep in your bed like a normal person,” Olivia said. “Why don’t you sleep in your bed anyway?”
Clete swung his legs off the sofa and sat up more with another of his sighs. “I can’t sleep in the bed, but I can sleep out here, so this is where I sleep.”
“Is the bed uncomfortable?”
“No.”
“Does it make creaky noises that wake you up?” Olivia asked.
“No.”
“Does it smell funny?’
“No.”
“Then what’s wrong with it?”
“I don’t know.”
Olivia Page 27
