The Plan

by Tawdra Kandle

  “No.” Cooper shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I just—last night wasn’t like I thought it would be. I don’t want you to think it didn’t matter to me.”

  He was skating perilously close to saying something that I wanted to hear but that I wasn’t sure he really meant. I had to stop him before it went too far. “Cooper, we agreed last night was just some benefits between friends. Right? The benefits turned out to be pretty amazing, yeah, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re not looking for attachment and neither am I. We don’t have time or room in our lives. So let’s be grateful for what we did have and move on.”

  He stepped back, almost as though I’d hit a nerve. I was afraid he was going to argue my point, and God help me, a big part of me wanted him to do just that. I wanted him to tell me I was being stupid and insane, and then pull me back into his arms and down the hall to bed again. But I didn’t move or say anything else, and finally he nodded.

  “You’re right. I just didn’t want you to feel—I don’t want things to be awkward, Emmy. Your friendship is important to me.”

  Coming from Cooper, this should’ve meant the world to me. I’d liked Cooper now, as a man, for more years than I’d crushed on him as a kid. But the words felt hollow when they meant friendship was all he wanted.

  “Don’t worry, Cooper.” I forced a smile that I hoped was breezy. “Nothing’s going to change. I promise I won’t start stalking you.”

  Something flickered in his eyes, but it was gone too fast for me to identify what it was. “Good.” He hesitated, as though he wanted to say more, and then turned. “Okay, I guess I better get moving.” He leaned down and dropped a kiss on my cheek, almost carelessly. “Thanks again for breakfast, Em. And the shower. And—well. I’ll see you around.”

  “See you, Coop. Have a good day.” I stood in the middle of the kitchen, rooted to the ground, as he stalked through the living room. I heard the squeak of the front door and the slam of the screen—the spring was new, and it was still a little tight. After a few more moments, his Jeep started up, and I listened to the hum of the engine as Cooper backed out of the driveway and away from my house.

  The house had never seemed so quiet as it did in the wake of Cooper leaving. I turned in a slow circle, suddenly seeing everything through new and different eye. My life, the things I’d managed to hold together, didn’t give me a warm happy anymore. Everything felt hollow and empty.

  Which was absolutely ridiculous. “Come on, Emmy. Grow a pair. You had an excellent night of no-strings hook up sex with the guy you used to lust after. You finally found out what Cooper Davis looks like naked. And it’s over, so woman up and get on with it.”

  The stern pep talk didn’t have much effect on me, but I managed to do the dishes and make the bed. I usually pulled off my sheets on Saturday mornings and washed them, but today I couldn’t convince myself to get rid of the scent of Cooper that still lingered. I sniffed the pillow, remembering his arms as they held it.

  Once the house was in order, I called my mother to check in.

  “Good morning, lazy bones!” She half-sang the words with a teasing lilt. “Long night?”

  I almost choked on the bottle of water I’d been sipping. Oh, she had no idea. “Not too bad. I’ve been up for a while, but I got sidetracked by chores.” True, mostly. Of course, one of those chores had been making breakfast for the man who’d screwed me senseless last night, but she didn’t have to know that. “How’re the troops?”

  “Everyone here is great. Cam and your dad drove out to Aunt Lil’s to help put up that new section of fence. They’ll be there all day, so the girls and I are working on a few sewing projects and weeding the garden. And then we’re making chicken and dumplings for dinner.”

  “Yum. I hope you’re planning to save me some.” My mom was the best cook I knew. She’d taught me everything I could do in the kitchen, and she was doing the same with Izzy and Dee.

  “Of course. You can have it for lunch tomorrow when you pick up the kids.” She paused. “Is everything okay, sweetie? You sound a little off.”

  “I’m fine.” I answered fast, as I always did. Since Eddy had left, I’d made it a practice never to unload on my parents. They didn’t need the burden of listening to me whine and bitch, not when they did so much to make my life possible. I didn’t tell them about how close I’d come to losing the house back in the beginning. Or how many nights I hadn’t slept, because I was up making pies to sell the next day, before I’d gotten the job at the Tide. And the last thing I was going to do was tell my mother about a one-night stand that had left me moping around the house this morning.

  “Are you sure?” The woman was both perceptive and persistent. “You know I’m here if you need to talk, honey. About anything.”

  “I know. Thanks, Mom.” I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Listen, I need to run to the market before it gets any later. I want to get strawberries to put in the scones for the bed and breakfast this week. Can I pick you up anything?”

  “Oh, just grab me a pint of strawberries, if you will. Thanks, hon. And don’t worry about us, we’re doing fine.”

  I hung up the phone, feeling even lonelier. Hearing about the kids’ activities made me happy, because I knew it was good for them to have this time with their grandparents. Cam was very close to my father, and I was glad, because he needed a strong male role model. He certainly wasn’t going to find one in his own father.

  But as silly as it was, I felt left out, as though life were passing me by while I worked so hard to keep us all afloat. Every week was a constant loop, and I was the one stuck in it. I had a sudden, frightening image of myself, here in the house alone once the kids had grown up and left home. Would I still be baking pies? Working weekend nights at the Tide? Was this how my life was destined to be forever?

  Pushing the thought aside, I went into my room to get dressed, trying hard to ignore the flashbacks of the night before and the sneaking fear that maybe that was the last time I was ever going to have sex.

  Or at least earth-shattering, brain-exploding sex.

  And maybe Cooper Davis had spoiled me for any other kind.

  I LOVED MY JOB. IT was more of a way of life than a profession, and sometimes it consumed me, heart and soul. The wood spoke to me, which I knew made me sound like a lunatic, but on some deep level, it was true. When I held the right piece, it sang, and I knew what it was meant to be. What purpose it was meant to serve.

  Woodworking was never what I’d intended to do. For as long as I could remember, I’d eaten, slept and breathed baseball. From Little League on up through high school ball, my world revolved around a diamond and nine men on the field of green. I played first base, and I was a decent fielder, but what made me stand out was my hitting. Consistency and strength were the two words I heard most often about myself; my RBI was stellar, and by my sophomore year in high school, I’d broken the homerun record in the county.

  Getting the scholarship to North Carolina hadn’t been a surprise. Crystal Cove was a small school, and we didn’t get much attention, but when I’d taken our team almost all the way to the state championship two years running, it was pretty much a sure thing that I’d get some kind of deal for college. I had it all planned: I was going to play college ball for three years, unless I was recruited earlier than that. My coaches all expected that I’d be scouted by the majors by junior year at the latest, and then I’d probably leave school and play while I was young. Finishing up my fourth year of college could wait. I had all the time in the world.

  Until I didn’t. It happened during a game in early spring, when the batter hit one of those shit balls that jumps along the foul line, not quite certain which way it’ll roll. I heard the ump call it fair and made a dive to grab it, visions of a double play in my mind. Instead, I hit a patch on the turf and went down, hard. I heard the crack in my arm, up high by my shoulder, and I had a moment to actually think about it—hell, that’s gonna hurt like a motherfucke
r—before the pain actually gripped me.

  Contrary to what most people in the Cove believed, I didn’t lose my scholarship because of the injury. Not directly, anyway. I lost it because I couldn’t play ball anymore—or at least, I couldn’t play it for now—and I drowned my sorrows in too much booze, too much partying and too little studying. When my advisor called me in to read me the riot act about my grades, I got pissed and quit.

  It wasn’t a high point of my life.

  I returned to the Cove angry. Angry at the college, angry at myself and angry at baseball, the one love of my life I’d thought would never betray me. My mother, being wiser and more understanding than I ever gave her credit for, left me largely alone, other than assuring me that she was around when I was ready to make decisions. I’d brought my drinking and my party life back home with me. All I needed were my best buds to join me. The posse wouldn’t let me down, I knew. These guys had been my friends since elementary school. We didn’t have secrets, and we always had each others’ backs.

  But things had changed over the last few years. Mark Rivers was going to school up in Jacksonville, and he was engaged to girl he’d met there. Logan was in school, too, closer to home but he still wasn’t living in the Cove. Jude and Daniel were getting married in a few months. Matt and Eric were still in town, Matt working at the local surf shop and Eric apprenticing with a plumber. They’d all been glad to see me again, but none of them were interested in being my drinking buddies, which was disappointing. I’d told them as much one night when we all got together down at the beach.

  “You’re all acting like a bunch of old men. We’re still young. Why’re we sitting around here when we could be out having fun?”

  I’d caught Jude’s pained expression as she glanced at Daniel. I hadn’t made it a secret that I thought those two were stupid for getting married now, when Daniel was still at school. Jude worked at the Tide, as she always had, and her parents were giving them the tiny apartment above the restaurant after the wedding. Daniel would commute to school come next fall. Their lives were all planned out like mine had been. Only it seemed like theirs might actually work.

  Logan stood up from where he was sitting on a driftwood log. “Okay, Cooper. I’ll go out with you. Come on, we’ll ride up to Daytona.”

  “Now that sounds like a plan, man.” I challenged the rest of them with a look of defiance. “No one else wants to come? Y’all are a bunch of pussies.”

  Logan gripped me by the arm. “Let’s leave now, while you still have friends.” He steered me to his truck, which was parked up at the Tide’s lot. Neither of us said much as he drove the back roads to Daytona, stopping at a bar I hadn’t seen before. It was loud, filled with smoke and rock and roll. Felt like home to me.

  Two hours later, I’d nearly gotten in a fight with biker who outweighed me by at least a hundred pounds. Logan dragged me out of the bar, tossed me into the cab of his truck and drove away, not saying a word. I slumped in the seat.

  A few minutes later, he cut the engine, and I looked up, realizing we were just above the beach, looking out over the ocean. The moon was full, and it shone on the dark water, creating the illusion of a pathway from the shoreline to the horizon.

  I glanced over at Logan. “Dude, I know everything’s changed in the last few years, but I gotta tell you. I’m still not into guys. So I hope you didn’t bring me here to make out.”

  A year ago, Logan would’ve punched me in the shoulder and called me an idiot son of a bitch. Tonight, though, he just looked at me. “Cooper, when did you get to be an asshole?”

  My mouth fell open, and I sputtered, not sure of how to respond. “What the hell, man? We’re just shitting around. I didn’t—wait, you’re not into dudes now, are you?” A sneaking horror gripped me—not that I’d care if Logan were gay, but I’d seriously never say a dick thing like that to my friend if he were.

  “No, I’m not. But you wouldn’t know if I was, because all you’ve cared about since you got back to the Cove is getting wasted and making all your friends miserable. What’s up with that? You know if I hadn’t gotten you away from the beach tonight, Daniel was about to deck you. You hurt Jude. All your snide little comments about them getting married—it’s making her feel bad. And she’s got enough shit to deal with, so lay off, okay?”

  I shrugged. “Whatever. I still think they’re stupid to get married so young. Why should he tie himself down to her when he could be bagging college chicks? Jude’s Cove, all the way. She’s never leaving that place, and if Daniel marries her, he won’t either.”

  “Yeah, and leaving the Cove worked out so well for you.” Logan’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “So what if they end up settling down and staying in the Cove? In case you forgot, that’s our hometown, and it’s a good place. Stop acting like you’re too good for it. Like you’re too good for us.”

  His words hit me in a place that was still tender. Whether it was the booze I’d drunk that night or just that I was finally ready to deal, I curled around my pain, clutching my stomach with one arm and burying my face in the other hand. “Logan. Dude, I fucked up. Big time.”

  “Yeah.” There wasn’t any judgment, just acceptance. “You did. But it’s done now. What’re you going to do next? Keep getting drunk and end up dead or in jail? Or figure out what’s going to make it better? What’s the new plan?”

  We sat for hours, talking. Haltingly at first, I told Logan all about the pain of the arm injury, the devastation of being told that while I could play again, I’d never make it to the Show, the majors.

  “That sucks, Coop. Seriously. I’m sorry. You had a gift, man. Watching you play ball was like nothing I’ve ever seen.” He paused. “What else do you like to do?”

  I didn’t find the path that night, but it was a start. A new start. I spent the next week apologizing to my friends, groveling a lot, and looking for a job. It was a rough time of year, since most of the seasonal jobs had already been filled, but Eric talked to his boss, the plumber, who had a carpenter buddy looking for some help. It didn’t pay much, but it would be something temporarily. I applied to the local state college to finish my degree, switching to business instead of liberal arts.

  Within a few months, I realized I’d found the answer to Logan’s question. I knew what else I liked to do: I liked to work with wood. I stayed with the carpenter until I graduated college, and then I opened my own shop. Logan and Daniel had finished school by then, too, and they were working together, each with his own business. Logan was an architect, and Daniel a contractor.

  As the years went on, they formed a new venture together: Holt/Hawthorne Projects. They bought and developed properties, made investments and restored old buildings. I worked with them on almost every job; they’d offered to let me buy into the new company, but I knew myself well enough to decline.

  “I don’t like people.” I was grateful for the offer, but firm in my reasons to say no. “I like to hide out in my workshop. I like to only work for people who don’t piss me off. Too much, anyway.” By then, I’d married and divorced Jolie, and I’d bought the rundown Cape Cod on the east side of town. Daniel and Logan had helped me turn it into a workshop and showroom, and we’d put in an apartment upstairs. I was well aware of my own limitations. I liked wood more than most people, and if I could do my job without any kind of personal contact, I’d have done it. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case.

  I ran my hand over a smooth runner now, examining the piece closely. This was going onto the chair I was remaking for the very pregnant woman and her bitch of a mother. It’d been four weeks since I’d begun the new chair; I only knew that because I’d cut the first wood for the project the morning after . . . Emmy. And it had been two weeks—four long, confusing and frustrating weeks—since I’d laid eyes or anything else on Em.

  My night with Emmy wasn’t my first one-night hookup. Not by a long shot. Usually I picked up girls from outside the Cove and enjoyed a night of mindless, meaningless sex in a hotel or back at their pl
aces. I remembered the dickwad in the bar that night, the guy who’d tried to pick up Emmy when I first got there. The thought that I might have more in common with that jerk than I’d realized made my insides twist.

  I never thought about those women I’d slept with after I shut the hotel door behind me. Maybe I chose girls who weren’t in the least bit memorable because I needed to forget. Or maybe I forgot them because that was my brain’s way of coping with behavior that was really pretty shitty.

  But just like I’d known myself well enough not to jump into the joint venture with Daniel and Logan, I also knew that I wasn’t cut out for anything more long-term than one night. I’d learned that lesson, not once but twice. And I didn’t need to go down for a third time, thanks very much.

  I’d met Jolie up in North Carolina, oddly enough. We’d gone out on our first date the weekend before the game that ended my career and changed my life. I’d blown her off in the wake of my injury; she’d called, even come by my hospital room, but I refused to see her. I ran into her at a frat party shortly before I was invited to leave college, and in a fit of drunken sentiment, I told her she was the one who’d gotten away. Whether it was that idea or just that she was wasted, too, we slept together that night. And then I blew her off again.

  I’d forgotten all about Jolie once I was back in the Cove. One night a year later, I was at a bar in Daytona with Logan and Eric during spring break. We weren’t getting trashed, just having fun by watching the tourists make fools of themselves. I was in a much better place than I’d been before, and it felt good.

  “Cooper Davis. As I live and breathe.” The voice was familiar, and a tingle ran down my spine.

  “Jolie Chapman. What’s a nice girl like you . . . well, you know. Hey, Logan, Eric. This is Jolie. We, uh, knew each other up in North Carolina.”