I Picked You

by J C Hartung

  He laughed because when she spoke she couldn’t hide how utterly taken aback she was. She tilted her head and her brow scrunched when he laughed.

  “Why not? He’d probably love to help. He did the day he and your Dad stopped by,” he said nonchalantly, and trying to keep the mood light, he took another bite of his sandwich. “This is so good,” he complimented with his mouth full.

  “My dad brought Ollie to your place?”

  “Yep, a couple weeks ago. He loved it; he helped sand some boards for the porch swing you liked so much!”

  His eyes creased and twinkled as he soaked up every expression she offered.

  “Huh.”

  She rolled her chair away from the desk and crossed her legs, effectively blocking him out. An internal smirk peeled through him as he thought, no way, you’re not getting away with that now!

  “Just stop by, it’s a reason to get out of the house. Oliver can run around and burn off some energy. I loved hide and seek at jobsites when I was a kid, he’ll love it. You could bring Carrie, the more the merrier.”

  “You know I was thinking earlier today that I’d spend the day with Oliver and as it’s the best I can do with time, maybe see if you wanted to swing by in the evening. But I’m not sure how I feel about throwing you and Oliver together at this stage.”

  His smile came fast at her confession. He pulled her chair towards him; he couldn’t let that wall stand strong. She looked at him with that considering thoughtfulness he found so utterly attractive.

  “Fair enough, let’s get back to that last bit in a minute. Like pick a movie and stay in and cuddle up sort of date?” he asked, his eyebrow raised and his intentions obvious.

  A half smile cracked her calm and cool composure. “That would be an option, but I would likely be asleep inside of fifteen minutes.”

  “One of those, are you?” he said, with mock disgust.

  “I am, yes!” she laughed. “It’s a sad reality.”

  He pulled her chair even closer and leaned into her so closely he could see a dusting of flour where it smeared her cheek. He brushed his thumb over the top of her cheek bone and sunk his fingers into her warm, cinnamon toned hair.

  “Matthew will be at my place all weekend; he might bring a friend for the extra hands. So you call Carrie if it makes you feel better, and you and Oliver stop by.”

  He could read the battle as easily as if she had said the words out loud. She wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do.

  “It will be the middle of the day. A handful of chaperones will be present, and if I know I’ll get a second chance to see you, I promise I’ll ignore you completely!”

  That made her laugh and he congratulated himself on small victories. He knew this was a big deal, but he also wanted her to see that it didn’t have to be. It could just be about having a bit of fun. He took her hand into his when her laughter faded.

  “Look, Raina. It doesn’t have to be complicated, and I don’t want to put you in a position you don’t want to be in. So here’s the deal. I get you Sunday night, wherever for whatever you choose! You threw it out there, so now it’s non-negotiable!” Her eyes lit with a laugh and he felt a piece of calm float back to him. “You can decide on Sunday if you are desperate enough to need something to do. And if it turns out you are, you can just show up! Sound manageable?”

  She tapped her finger on the armrest of her chair a few times and swung those big, grey eyes back to him.

  “Sounds manageable,” she agreed, with a smile and a nod as she rose to her feet. He looked up at her and decided that was her way of saying, it’s time to go, pal.

  “Good. Call and let me know what time and where for Sunday, if I don’t see you.”

  She took his hand before he could turn, and he thought of it as an offering. He understood that this was all new to her, and he wanted so inherently to be able to give her the time she needed to become comfortable with him.

  She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to; he imagined that she knew her eyes held the power to turn wise men into fools. Even if she didn’t, he would gladly choose to be a fool if she would continue to look at him that way. She was a mingling of everything appealing; vulnerability and sweetness, competence with a vibrant splash of candy-coated sexy, how could he refuse her anything?

  She was on her toes now, leaning with her hands on his chest. He found his own hands at her waist. She stretched up and brushed her lips across his cheek.

  “Thanks,” she whispered, “for being smooth, but not pushy. I’ll see you on Sunday.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The dreary clouds and light rain, as predicted, hadn’t ceased, and for the third day the sky was dark. They were driven indoors where the hours passed slowly, and even the most energetic and entertaining imagination was being drained.

  She was feeling anything but energetic. She’d slept restlessly the past two nights. The first, Friday night, she’d been plagued with dreams; vivid visions of her and Mark. In the visions she could hear the background noise and feel the emotions but she couldn’t hear his voice, and every time she tried to touch him, he wasn’t Mark anymore. In her dream she’d been aware he wasn’t with her anymore and she felt frantic desperation to know that he approved of the life she was making. She woke breathless, confused and unsettled.

  The night before, because of the nightmares, she avoided going to bed at all and rather fell asleep on the couch, where she tossed, turned, and ultimately got very little rest.

  She struggled with all she had to bring herself back to the present. She’d spent more time than she liked over the last few days lost somewhere in the past.

  “Mom. Mama!” Oliver called.

  She inhaled deeply and fully snapped back to the present. She leaned towards him on her elbows. “Yeah, Monkey!”

  They were at the dining room table working on crafts. Colors, paper, and glitter were scattered across the whole surface of the table, and the floor had random spatterings of blue, green, and red sparkles.

  “Look,” he said enthusiastically, holding up his art.

  “Wow, it’s absolutely beautiful, Ollie! Who are all the people?”

  His eyes bounced around the page as he explained that it was a picture of everyone in the boat at the cottage.

  “And what’s that?” she asked, pointing to a red and blue flying creature.

  “It’s Dad!”

  “Oh,” she mumbled, and looked at Oliver’s dark eyes.

  “Grandma said Daddy liked Superman best. I think it’s because he can fly and go everywhere really fast, just like Daddy can now, because he’s sort of like an angel, and angels can fly and go everywhere.”

  She nodded, her vision dancing between the Superman figure and her son. She couldn’t find words, and even if she did she couldn’t have spoken, for the lump in her throat was choking her.

  They very rarely spoke of Mark and she suddenly wondered if she was stealing the memory of him from their son.

  “Mama, don’t you like it?” Ollie asked, watching her carefully.

  She shook her head and laid a hand on either side of Oliver’s face. “I love it, sweet boy. I think you are a wonderful artist! Daddy would love it too; Superman was his favorite.”

  He beamed and lifted the paper up, immediately dumping more glitter onto the floor.

  “Can I put it on the fridge?”

  “Absolutely!” she responded, jumping to her feet and following him to the fridge.

  “There. Now what can we do?”

  He turned those eyes on her like a spot light. She could only smile and bending down, she scooped him up and sat him on the counter while she sorted how best to start this conversation. She took a cookie from a container and poured him a glass of milk. In the end she thought it didn’t much matter how she started.

  “Ollie, do you remember Daddy?”

  He took a bite from the cookie and a smear of blue painted his lip where the candy coated chocolate brushed. He shook his head.


  Her chest heaved lightly. It was just as she thought; he’d been too small to keep the memories.

  “Did Grandma tell you what else Daddy loved?”

  He shook his head again, and she smiled because the gesture was all Mark.

  “He loved music, and dance parties. Do you want to have a dance party?”

  He crunched his eyebrows together and shrugged his shoulders. While he finished his snack she walked to the other room and turned an old song up loud.

  “This was one of Daddy’s favorites.”

  She watched him hop off the counter and head to the carpet, where she started bouncing and moving her body to rhythm of the song. She knew he was watching her. This was new to him; they’d never danced before, or at least not for years, and she felt a wave of guilt wash over her as she taught her son how to feel the music.

  He was doing pretty great, and before she knew it they were sprawled across the living room floor breathless from their effort. She turned the volume down to hear his giggles.

  “That’s fun, can we do again?”

  “Anytime you want, Monkey! You know what else, anytime you want to talk about Daddy, or want to know something, you ask. Okay?”

  “Okay. Can we do something else now?”

  She looked at her watch; it was nearing 3:00. She questioned briefly if it was the right thing to do, then swept the thought away and jumped to her feet.

  “I have an idea. Let’s do a quick tidy of the crafts and we’ll go check something out!”

  “Check what out?” he asked, following her into the dining room bouncing and begging to know what her plan was.

  She kissed his head and pulled out her phone, punched Carrie’s number, spoke a few brief words and began stacking the mess of papers.

  “Go wash your hands, Ollie. We’re leaving in three minutes.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see when we get there.”

  Work like this went much, much faster with help, and he was so thankful to have it. They’d gotten a late start but there wasn’t much left to do. They’d spent the better part of the day before sixteen feet in the air on scaffolding with their heads bent at an unhealthy angle as they worked their way from the peak of the ceiling down to the floor. Both men had been covered in drywall dust and aching by the time they’d called it a day.

  Now, as Linc sunk the last screw into place he felt a satisfied pride wash over him. He turned in the room and saw it all coming together. The walls somehow seemed to shrink into place now that the drywall was up, and he knew once the taper had the seams mudded and blending into one smooth and seamless surface, it would appear smaller still. He knew it wouldn’t be until everything was complete and he was moving furniture in, that the room would feel its grand size.

  Matthew walked back in through the garage door that he’d left open and passed him a beer just as he saw a car come to a stop outside. Matthew turned at the sound of gravel crunching and missed the delighted grin cross Linc’s face.

  Carrie entered first, followed by Oliver, while Raina doddled well behind. Carrie gave Linc a wave and Oliver ran to him. He watched her assess the changes as he bent down to talk to Oliver.

  “Hey, Buddy! What are you doing here?”

  “We came to see you and Uncle Matthew. Your hair’s all white,” he said, and he made a strange face. Linc bent his head and with his hands in his hair gave it a shake and watched a shower of dust fall.

  “Look at that, my hair is white, and yours is full of sparkles!”

  Oliver shook his own head and some sparkles from his hair fell and mixed with the dust from Linc’s.

  “Mom said I could help, what are you doing?”

  “Oh man, you’re just a little late to help, we’ve just finished. But how do you feel about hide and seek?”

  Oliver’s expression shifted from disappointment to joy in a snap.

  “Do you think you could convince your Mom and Aunt Carrie to play?” he asked, and allowed his eyes to shift to and fully see Raina for the first time since they arrived.

  She looked tired, but when she smiled at Oliver the shadow disappeared.

  “I think we can play for a while,” she offered, and walked into the group.

  “Thanks for sharing your husband this weekend, and congratulations, Carrie,” he offered. She smiled at him and her hand instinctively touched her still flat stomach. She was impressed he would even think to say anything.

  “Thanks!”

  “Alright,” Linc said, as he rubbed his hands together. “Who’s counting first?”

  Oliver pointed at him and everyone laughed.

  “Cool. So here’s the deal, you have to stay in the house. I’m counting to 30. Ready, set, go!”

  He heard feet shuffle off in all directions as he walked to the plastic covered window to look out and count.

  She came! He wondered briefly what it had taken for her to come to the decision. He imagined he’d someday find out, but for now he was just thrilled that she’d taken the step. He smiled to himself and thought the day couldn’t get better.

  “26, 27, 28, 29, 30. Ready or not here I come,” he shouted on a laugh, and followed the trail of creaks and whispers.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  She watched them, and the easiness between them stunned her. Oliver was so open and giving, so eager to accept and equally ready to give. He was so free, and she found herself resenting the absence of freedom in her own life.

  Linc had said he’d give her space, and he had. He hadn’t so much as brushed a hand across hers, though she knew he’d been watching her at random.

  He really was a great guy, maybe more importantly, and a point which made him significantly more attractive: he was a great person.

  She watched him toss Oliver in the air, teach him how to sweep up, and he let Oliver find him without making it seem obvious he’d given himself away. Linc spoke to him like a person who mattered, not a child. He made jokes with Ollie and was his usual smooth self. It made her wonder if it wasn’t all just a play, but rather who he really was. She also heard him and Matthew talking about some chairs he was going to throw together for them.

  She looked for faults in him throughout their visit, and the only one she could nail down was, he wasn’t eating very well these days. It wasn’t much and definitely not something she could hold against him, especially since she knew he was living so scarcely.

  She liked him; it was as simple as that. She felt a small piece of that freedom she so desperately craved when she was with him, and even if she didn’t know what or where it would take her, she knew she had to explore it. This meant loosening up somehow, and letting him into her life.

  She only hoped he was patient enough to allow her time to figure out what that meant, and how it could possibly work.

  She’d been quiet and vaguely absent from most of the action earlier that afternoon. Oliver had a blast as well as he could tell, and with Matthew, Carrie and Raina in on the action, it made fun for all. Though the rain didn’t stop, Linc made burgers and hotdogs and they all ate under the covered porch.

  He’d watched her and as promised, kept his distance. The only contact they made had been initiated by her. They’d all talked, but he thought they had successfully masked the undercurrent that was flowing between them.

  Maybe she needed to see him in action with Oliver, or maybe she just didn’t want to be there at all. He couldn’t know; this was all new to him too.

  He leaned on a post and watched as they all loaded to leave. Matthew and Carrie pulled away first and Raina came back up the steps when Oliver was buckled in. He stepped into the house with her, away from observant eyes.

  Her hands were in the pockets of her glued-on jeans, and her tank was visible where her sweater had fallen off her shoulder. Her wide-rimmed sneakers topped off the look perfectly; she was perfect.

  She held out her hand and he slipped his in it. Her mood, in his opinion, was still uncertain, but she smiled up at him.

/>   “I’m waiting for my babysitter to call me back. If she can come we’ll go out, if not we’ll stay in.”

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yes, just tired.” She swatted her hand in the air to brush it off. “Swing by at eight, okay?”

  “Eight o’clock, maybe we go out, maybe we don’t, got it!” He grinned easily, shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets. He watched her turn to go but instead she stepped out, looked at her car and hesitated. He leaned on the wall waiting for her to hurry down the steps. Instead, she turned back to him. She still looked uncertain as she stepped towards him and placed her hands on his face. Her hands were cold from the cool and damp fall air.

  “You were great today, with Oliver, and with me.”

  Her voice was quiet and her face was close, so close he could smell the light scent of her in the thick air. Her eyes found his, and she whispered one final plea.

  “Please, be patient.”

  Her lips pressed his briefly, but it was enough. Her eyes said as much as her words and actions; she was trying.

  “I’ll see you soon,” she whispered, and ran from the house.

  How could he concentrate after that? He wished he had hung a punching bag in the loft, or that he was a runner, or that he had some more demo work to do on the house; a sledge hammer could always work wonders on tangled up nerves. Sweeping up was silent work that allowed him to argue with his own sanity.

  His shoulders ached from the physical labor of the weekend and he was tired when he allowed himself to call it a day. He didn’t allow himself much time to clean up and head over, but the less time he had to sit around the less time he had to think, and at the moment distraction was the best use of time.

  He slowed to a stop outside her garage, but she didn’t give him the chance to get out and formally greet her. She opened the door, climbed up the running boards, and was next to him before he could put the truck in park.

  “Hi!” she beamed. Her energy was bouncing around the cab like a moth around a light.

  “Hi.”

  Surprised by the shift he was seeing in her, he soaked it up. She’d changed her shirt, done her hair, and earrings dropped from her ears. She’d swapped her sneakers for a pair of knee high boots, and in her hand she clutched a thin leather jacket and a small bag. He was glad he’d chosen a new shirt and hadn’t just thrown on another flannel button up. He flicked his finger against the earring that dropped from her ear and flashed a smile her way.