I never thought about my mom dying, or planned for the day when I’d no longer have her to turn to when I needed sound judgment and good advice. Realizing I’d always just taken her presence for granted made me cry even harder.
When I finally crawled out of bed I spent an eternity under the hot shower. At first I used the steam to battle my puffy eyes, and then I started to relax. Thinking and daydreaming about my date with Troy, I replayed every bit of conversation, every caress and kiss, and I couldn’t wait until I could call Becky and gush over it all. With my forehead pressed against the shower wall, I wondered what he was doing right then, what he was wearing, and if he was thinking about me.
I wasn’t sure what was happening to me, or how any of it could possibly work out in the end, but it felt good not knowing, like I was living just a little bit closer to the edge than I had been before.
I laughed as I toweled my hair. Sonesville and life on the edge… somehow that had to be an oxymoron.
After breakfast I set out to pack up as much of my mom’s clothing as I could. My dad hadn’t felt any need for it, but I’d convinced him that doing it early and donating the clothing to the church or the women’s shelter in Williamsport would be something she’d have wanted us to do, especially so close to the holidays. I also felt strange leaving him alone with all those memories of her everywhere he turned. It’d be easier for him to manage if there weren’t so many reminders of her around every corner.
It felt strange rifling through her drawers and handling her things. She’d taught me all about privacy and boundaries, promising that she’d never spy or snoop through my things, as long as I paid the same courtesy to her. It actually took me a few minutes to convince myself that packing her clothes away wasn’t the same as snooping through her things. Even if I came across some secret collection of diaries or something, I would never have been able to read them, but fortunately there was nothing of the sort in her dresser drawers or her closet.
When Becky finally called, it made the task of sorting and folding easier, mostly because my mind was elsewhere. As I spilled all the details from my date with Troy, keeping the location of our parking session somewhat secret, she couldn’t help herself from squealing and awing over everything I said.
“I can’t believe he had a crush on you in high school, but was afraid to ask you out,” she sang dreamily. “That is so romantic.”
“I know, tell me about it! I was not expecting that at all.”
“So, if you guys have a June wedding, would it be asking too much to be a bridesmaid?”
“Seriously girl,” rolling my eyes, I carried the third and final garbage bag full of clothing out into the living room and dropped it beside the others on the floor. “You are out of control.”
“Come on, you said yourself you felt totally connected to him while you were making out.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call it making out.” I plopped down into the easy chair my father liked to nap in and closed my eyes. Just closing my eyes brought it back, the feeling of his cheek against mine, the stubble both smooth, but rough and tantalizing as it grazed my skin.
“You were parked in his truck out in the middle of a dark cornfield,” she pointed out. “I’d call that making out.”
“Making out sounds so cheap,” I decided. “And then, get this, he tells me that wasn’t his intention. To get me out there to you know…”
“My word,” Becky’s sigh reached through the phone line, and I imagined her collapsing onto her sofa to accommodate the drama of her mood. “There has got to be something wrong with him, I mean seriously, he’s too perfect.”
“I know!” I agreed. “He’s the perfect gentleman. He’s romantic, complimentary and good God can he kiss! I don’t even want to think about it going any further than that because frankly, I don’t think I could handle it.”
“Oh my god, you’re probably right,” she paused for a second. “He’s probably perfect in bed too! Damn, you lucked out.”
“See,” a snort of laughter escaped me. “Now you’ve got me sleeping with him.”
“Yes, but you forget that you’re already happily married in my mind, so, it’s not as tawdry as it sounds.”
“Oh, you make it sound so easy,” I said. “But Troy aside for the moment, I had another experience this morning.”
“Seriously? What happened?”
“I woke up because I thought my mom was in the room.”
“Did you get a chance to do any research?”
“A little bit, but not much that seemed very helpful yet. I have to do some more digging today.” I went on to tell her about that strange feeling, waking to her voice and those odd words. “And the bed was ice cold where she was sitting. I could still smell her, Becky. You know how everyone has a smell about them, especially people you’re close to?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I know what you mean. And you’re sure that was what she said? Those were her exact words?”
“Word for word.”
“Well, in a way, it’s kind of reassuring,” she noted. “I did a little bit of research myself, but it was kind of hard because I couldn’t really turn to you and ask if that’s what you’re looking for.”
“It’s too bad we can’t get together again and look through some of that stuff,” I sighed, picking at the fraying edges under the arm covering.
“Who says we can’t?”
“Well, I’ve got to take this stuff to the shelter this afternoon before Dad gets home, and then I’m supposed to be going out with Troy again tonight.”
“Again tonight,” I heard her click her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “It’s all falling into place, I’m telling you.”
“Falling out of place, maybe.”
“Threads were made to be unwoven,” she said. “So what are you guys doing then?” In the background I could hear her boys making some kind of motorized sound effects, like they were racing cars around the living room. “Did you already make plans?”
“No, he’s supposed to call me when he comes in for lunch. He had a lot of work to do today.”
“Well, maybe when he calls you could convince him just how much fun it would be to come over and have dinner with me and Marty.”
I grinned at the idea, my mind picking up her train of thought whether she knew it or not. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to impose on you guys,” I said.
“Nonsense!”
Her mind was already working against me, just as it had been from the first minute she found out I liked Troy Kepner. Anything she could do to make everything feel cozy and right, and what better way to do that than in the company of friends. Surely, Troy knew Marty, and he already knew Becky. We’d all laugh together and have a good time, and it would just make everything seem and feel even more right than it already did.
“I’m sure you’ll want to spend some time alone, but dinner and maybe a game or two of cards or something before you drive off to make out in some field somewhere?”
“You’re terrible, you know that?”
“You’ll thank me one day, I promise.”
“Okay, I will run it by him when he calls and let you know.” Before she had a chance to reply the call waiting beeped, signaling another caller on the line. “In fact, that might be him now. Do you want to hold on, or should I just call you back?”
“Call me back. I gotta get lunch around for these monsters.”
I pressed the flash button after quickly clearing my throat, and tried not to sound too eager when I said, “Hello?”
“Hi, Janice?” There was just a hint of uncertainty in his voice.
“It’s me.”
“Have you had lunch yet?” He asked.
“No, not yet, why?”
“Well, look out the front door,” he said.
“Okay, why?” I asked with a nervous hitch in my voice. I rose from the chair and started toward the front door. I unlocked the deadbolt and freed the chain before pulling the door open. The nerves moved quickly down
the pathway to my stomach, and all those butterflies I’d thought had left me when we’d said goodnight came rushing back at once.
“Because my mom makes the best ham and bean soup in three counties,” he said. Parked at the curb in his truck, he sat in the front seat with a cell phone to his ear. He grinned out the window as I approached. “She made a fresh batch of bread rolls and said I’d be a fool not to bring it over here and have lunch with you.”
Still holding the phone to my ear I started out the door and down the walk in my bare feet. “It’s a good thing I haven’t eaten lunch yet then.” I hardly even noticed the damp, chilly paving stones under my stocking feet.
He held up the phone and clipped it shut before opening the door. “Even if you had, I would have come up with another excuse to see you if I needed to,” he said, stepping down onto the walk as I lowered the phone and turned it off. His admission about doing whatever he needed to just to see me nudged me to step forward and lean up into his surprised kiss. The surprise quickly passed and he slid one arm around the small of my back to draw me in closer. I could feel the pull of his grin against my mouth as he started to pull away. “I would have come for breakfast if I’d have known I’d get such a warm welcome.”
“I don’t know,” I stepped back. “Your breakfast was probably about three hours before mine. I probably would have been a little on the grumpy side.”
“Good thing I waited until lunch,” he turned back into the truck and brought out a cooler. “This is still hot, should we eat?”
Troy followed me up the walk and into the house. As we passed through the door, I suddenly became self-conscious of everything around us. My mother was an avid collector of owl knick-knacks and Dad had quite a collection of Hess trucks in a glass case in the living room. I could only imagine what he was thinking as we navigated through the house and into the kitchen, but instead of looking around in curious disbelief or even disgust, when I turned around after reaching into the cupboard for two soup bowls, he had his eyes on me.
“I was just talking to Becky.” I placed the bowls on the table. He opened up the cooler and brought out a plastic pale of soup. The steam rolled off, the peppery aroma wafting out as he peeled back the lid.
“How’s her boy, by the way?”
“Oh, he’s fine. Turns out it was nothing.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, grabbing the soup ladle and leaving it on the table while I grabbed the butter from the refrigerator. “Anyway, she wondered if we might want to come over to her place and have dinner with her and Marty tonight,” I said. “I’ll completely understand if you don’t want…”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Oh,” I smiled and gestured for him to have a seat at the kitchen table. “She’ll be happy when I call her back.”
“Marty’s a nice guy.” He ladled soup into my bowl first.
“I haven’t really seen him yet.” Realizing I forgot to grab spoons, I hopped up and plucked two soup spoons from the drawer. “I mean, I remember him only vaguely from school. He was ahead of us.”
“Yeah, a couple years.”
“Becky’s been so great since I’ve been back. I guess she and my mom did a lot of scrapbooking together.”
I watched him lift the spoon to his mouth and wondered if he was as nervous as I was. If he was, how could even eat? But then I remembered men had iron stomachs that begged to be filled, even in the event of extreme nerves. I swirled my spoon around between carrots and beans, the occasional piece of celery floating to the top.
“We’ve gotten really close these last couple of days,” I admitted. “It certainly won’t be easy to just leave here come Sunday.”
“No.” He didn’t look up from the bowl in front of him, but instead mimicked my nervous stirring motions unknowingly. “I imagine not.”
The silence circulating through the room was stiff and suffocating. I could tell that he was avoiding looking up, even as I tried my hardest to keep from looking at him as well. It hadn’t even really begun yet, and already it was too difficult to think about. Even reminding myself what Becky said about not turning my back on love just because it didn’t fit into my agenda wasn’t making it any easier.
Our date was intense, and there he was bringing me lunch just looking for an excuse to see me. If we spent the next three days together, and that was looking rather likely at the rate we were going, what would separation feel like come Sunday? Just thinking about not being able to drop by Becky’s on a whim was painful enough.
I pushed a small chunk of ham under the creamy white broth with my spoon and weighed my options. “So your mom sent you over here with lunch?”
“She did, yes,” he admitted, a sheepish hesitation in his voice. “She said you were too skinny from living in the city all alone, and that I should bring you a nice home cooked meal.”
“She did not!”
“She says that about everyone. I swear she’s on a mission to feed the world.” I watched his hands, they were weathered and cracked, the skin dry from the cold and there was a fresh cut down the back of his hand that hadn’t been there night before. I felt a shudder of desire move through me as I thought again about how his hands might feel against my skin, calloused and rough, but gentle and attentive.
I reached across the table and traced my finger alongside the cut, “That’s new.”
“Yeah, I did that this morning,” he turned it over to have a look. “Caught it on a nail in the barn.”
I sucked in a tortured breath, “Ooh, does it hurt?”
I curled my fingers around the inside of his palm and brought his hand back around. I moved my thumb gently along the curve of the cut and realized I just completely ignored everything I’d been fighting against for a chance to hold his hand. Had I already lost the battle for my heart so early in the game? I drew his hand closer and pressed my lips against the skin there.
“Not anymore.” He moved in slowly and when he kissed me the butterflies that seemed to dictate my every thought and feeling in his company surged into overdrive. We sat with our foreheads pressed together for a moment, and then he moved back again. “You didn’t tell Becky about the hayride?”
“Oh, no. I just told her we went for a drive.” I squirmed in my seat and tucked on ankle under me so that I sat a little higher.
“Good,” he went back to swirling his spoon around the soup, taking the occasional bite.
I managed a couple bites myself, and he was right. His mother really did make the best bean soup in three counties, but eating in his company seemed impossible. Never before in my life had I felt so strange and self-conscious, so alive and yet so afraid that every moment would go up in smoke before I had a chance to really live it. I wanted to kiss him again, or even better give into my increasing desire to know what his body felt like pressed close to mine.
“Troy,” I lowered the spoon into my soup and sat back in my chair. “I know when you asked me out to dinner, you said it wasn’t anything complicated, and really, it isn’t, but I am going to be brutally honest here when I say I am feeling a lot of complicated things inside.”
The blue of his eyes nearly melted me when he focused his stare on me. He had to know what he was getting into, and maybe it was his plan all along to confuse me into a sense of starry-eyed bedazzlement that made it impossible to even think about leaving Sonesville or him behind ever again.
“I didn’t want it to be complicated, Janice,” he admitted. “I thought maybe we’d go out, and have a good time…”
“But that’s the thing, we did have a good time,” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Troy, I had a great time. In fact, I will admit that even before you asked me out I’d been thinking about you, hoping that maybe you would, but what’s going to happen when I go back to Pittsburgh? Are you going to come and see me there?”
“I don’t know, Janice,” he looked away. “I mean of course, if you wanted me to come and I was able, then yes, but… I don’t know. I just th
ought we could take some time while you were here and see how it all played out. Once you have to go back, we can play it by ear.”
“But I’m only here for a couple more days, what if it isn’t enough time.”
“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“I guess,” a slow nod moved my head, but it wasn’t something I controlled. “I mean, as long as we both take that into consideration.”
“Absolutely,” he nodded.
“I mean,” my head was moving again without me telling it to, this time shaking back and forth in confusion. “I guess I just don’t want to… I really like you, Troy. I don’t want to get hurt.”
His firm gaze returned to mine, “You have my promise, Janice. I will do everything in my power not to hurt you.”
“Okay,” I agreed, a slow smile forming at the corners of my mouth. “And I will try my hardest to make sure I don’t hurt you either.”
“Sounds like a deal,” he held his hand out so we could shake on it, but once I accepted it, he drew me into another kiss. He cupped my face against his hand, and after he kissed me, he nestled his cheek into mine and kept his eyes closed.
Chapter Sixteen
I followed Becky into the kitchen with an armload of dirty dishes and leaned against the counter as she began to run dishwater. So far the night was a lot of fun, the kind of night that would definitely make you feel even more comfortable with someone you were just getting to know. Troy and Marty seemed to hit off well, and Becky’s boys were both excited when they learned that Troy had tractors, cows, horses and a farm full of other animals. They already begged Troy to let them come over and feed his pigs, a proposition not even Becky could deter them from.
She leaned nudgingly into me and sighed. “It’s the nights like this that make you daydream about the future. Having your own place, inviting your friends over.”
“Well, I’m not ready to think about the future yet,” I muttered, despite the inner-voice that seemed to wilt at the prospect of there being no future for Troy and me. “He’s so good with your kids,” I noted, hoping to steer the subject away from our relationship.
Heart and Home Page 15
