by Ari Rhoge
Charlie nodded. “Is there — is she…” The words seemed to die on his lips, and Lizzy felt an overwhelming impulse to swathe Charles Bingley in a blanket, pluck him down in front of the kitchen table, and shove a bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of his face. He laughed nervously again, and ran his fingers through his hair, causing ginger tufts to stand on end.
“You okay?” Lizzy asked him, quietly.
Charlie opened his mouth, hesitated, and shut it again. “Yeah,” he said, smiling at her. “I'm always okay. How have you been?”
“Oh, you know — ambling on and all that. You must have been surprised to see me here.”
“Not really,” Charlie admitted, smiling. “I knew you would be here. Will filled me in on what happened at Georgie's gig in New York. I'm glad you guys are friends now. —— At least certain amends have been made.” There was a tinge of regret coloring his words, and Lizzy looked up at him thoughtfully. “He's a pain in the ass — but he's a very good guy.”
“So I've heard,” said Elizabeth, sighing.
“I gave him hell about a month back,” Charlie started to explain. He hopped up to sit on the railing, his sneakers hitting the wooden planks. Lizzy leaned her back against the rail, and took a sip of coffee, listening. “We saw each other again when I came back from Zurich — he visited me in the city for dinner and we got into a fight. I punched him in the mouth.”
She nearly snorted into her coffee, coughing. “What?”
“I did!” He looked absurdly proud of himself, and they both laughed at it.
“He never told me that,” said Lizzy, aghast.
“Probably too proud to mention it.”
“Yeah, it's a common issue with him,” she said, smirking, and moving her index finger around the rim of her cup.
“He didn't hit me back.” Charlie's voice dropped, and he rubbed his neck. “I think that's what made me feel worse about it. Will could have easily done it, and he didn't. Then I realized — I was the one that lost Jane. The decision was mine to make. Choices don't rest on your friend's shoulders.”
“But sometimes they're influenced by them.”
He shook his head. “No, if I were more of a man, I wouldn't have let anybody's opinion sway me. I wasn't confident enough in the situation and I acted like an idiot. Then I refused to take responsibility for it, and lashed out at my best friend. Big fuckin' hero I am.”
Lizzy couldn't help but feel a tiny pang of pity for Will. He had been viciously chewed out by her in that hotel room, only to return a month later from California to get a split lip from Charlie. She winced, laughing despite herself. “Was he bleeding?”
“Yep.”
“Well. You know how it goes —— live and learn,” said Lizzy, with a smirk. She took another sip of coffee.
Charlie looked at her for a little while, but said nothing. She sensed all the unspoken questions he wanted to ask, lodged like blanks in the barrel of a gun. Is she happy? Is she seeing someone? I still miss her. God, I miss her. But Charlie swallowed, and looked out past the yard to the rising sun again, at the amber light spilling out onto the pavement. Pride was indeed a very powerful thing. His voice was a quiet drawl when he finally answered her. “So they say.”
They were both quiet for a couple of minutes, the silence punctuated by pleasant birdsong. Charlie asked if anybody else was up, and Lizzy shook her head. Then she caught him staring at the sweatshirt, at the navy-blue Columbia emblem stitched across her chest. His gray eyes caught hers, and a slow, knowing smile stretched across his mouth.
Lizzy could feel her face growing red, and she looked down quickly, feigning interest in her empty coffee cup. Idiot girl. She should have known better than to step out onto the patio wearing Will's college hoodie.
• • •
Not that anything had really happened.
Will had helped her out of the pool last night, sopping wet and bitter as her belly laughed and she threatened to push him in again. She had followed him into his bedroom, still wearing her clinging damp clothes and a scowl. “Wow, what a bad sport,” Darcy had scoffed, smirking as he handed her a towel — she yanked it roughly from his hands.
Lizzy had changed in his bathroom, into one of his T-shirts and a pair of Georgiana's yoga capris they had filched from her latest batch of laundry in the dryer. And when she stepped back out into his bedroom, barefoot and quiet, Darcy was still changing — she caught another glimpse of broad shoulders and spine dimples before he slipped his shirt back on, and Lizzy thought it was a pity he had been so quick about it.
“You look freezing,” Darcy murmured, tossing her his college sweatshirt. She pulled it on and he chuckled, moving scattered strands of hair out of her face. “Sorry. You still cold?”
“No. I'm good,” Lizzy muttered, hugging her arms to herself. “Thanks.”
All had been decidedly awkward after that, and Lizzy retreated into herself, embarrassed and shy. She spent the rest of the night not sleeping but staring up at the ceiling again and wondering if she had acted like too much of a bitch, had made too much of a fuss. She was being girly again, and obsessive — and it was a version of herself that she didn't like at all yet felt pretty powerless to fight against.
In the end, Lizzy was stubborn and hadn't wanted to read into what she was feeling. She was quick to turn off her light, and struggled to fall back asleep.
• • •
Charlie thankfully wasn't staring at her anymore — but God only knew what he was assuming. Her bright pink cheeks weren't helping her at all. Charlie hopped from the railing, and stretched for a moment, before saying, “I'm gonna go fix myself some cereal for breakfast. I've known the Darcys long enough to earn kitchen-raiding rights.”
“I'm sure you have,” Lizzy said, smiling.
“You want anything?” he asked, kindly.
“No, thanks. Coffee's fine for now. I'm just gonna go back to my room and change and whatnot — freshen up,” Elizabeth explained, perhaps a little too eagerly. Charlie smiled, and said a quick goodbye, letting himself back in through the screen door.
Back in her room, Lizzy changed quickly into her favorite jeans and a green V-neck. She delicately folded his sweatshirt and the rest of the clothes-on-loan into a neat pile, then walked down the corridor, coming to a standstill in front of his bedroom door. She glanced over her shoulder at the clock — an antique ivory fixture wedged between two paintings. 8:26 a.m. Was it too early? Lizzy craned her neck, and listened for footsteps and shuffling around.
She chanced it, raising her fist and knocking.
Darcy opened it almost immediately. He had been up for a while. He smiled at her, and moved aside to let her pass through. “Morning.”
“Um, here.” Lizzy shoved the pile of clothes into his hands, and Will looked at it for a moment with surprise before realizing what she had just handed over. “It's what I borrowed last night,” she explained, hastily, hating how breathless and awkward she sounded.
“Right. Thank you.”
“No, thank you — you know, 'cause it… kept me dry and warm. And stuff.” Lizzy cringed internally. I want these floorboards to split open and swallow me whole.
“Yeah. No problem.” Will rubbed the back of his neck.
“Okay.”
She stood in his doorway awhile before he asked, “are you all right? You seemed put off. —— If you're upset about the pool thing, I apologize—”
“No,” Lizzy cut him off, shaking her head. “No, no — it's not that. I just… Will, I'm not good at this.”
“Good at what?” Will chortled, and she finally stepped past him and stalked into the bedroom. He shut the door behind her, startled for a moment. “Are you —— are you pacing? That's cute.”
“This—” Lizzy stopped, and gestured emphatically, encircling the air with her hands. She opened her mouth, but no coherent words came out. “Oh, God — I must look like an idiot.”
“I would never think that about you,” said Will, sincerely. “I mean, yo
u do have your slow moments — but, all in all, I think you're an incredibly bright girl.” He blanched. “——Woman.”
“Slow?”
“That's not what I…” Darcy's shoulders dropped, and he sighed. “Fuck.”
“You're just as bad at this as I am.” Lizzy was laughing.
“It's the blind leading the blind.”
Lizzy chewed on her bottom lip, gauging his reaction. “I'm just trying to understand. You know? I know we decided on friendship —— or something. Right?”
“Yeah,” said Will, quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Something being the operative word here,” he quickly muttered.
“But…” She closed her mouth with a click. “Yeah.”
Will leaned against the door. Lizzy gravitated miserably to the corner of his bed, sitting on the edge of his mattress. “So, um, in the current vein of this bygones-be-bygones and let's-start-on-the-right-foot new-blossoming friendship shit,” she said, pausing to take a breath. “It's probably best that we pretend I didn't kiss you yesterday — it was pretty inappropriate.”
“So inappropriate,” Darcy agreed, crossing the room.
“Wildly, wildly inappropriate.” Lizzy shook her head gravely.
“You were just completely out of line there.” Will was standing in front of her now, his fingers cupping her chin.
“I mean I'm not even attracted to you,” she mumbled, staring at his mouth.
“Clearly,” he deadpanned, then bending forward to kiss her.
• • •
By the time Nan bellowed that breakfast was ready and on the table, five minutes had passed, Will's shirt was hanging over the headboard, and Lizzy had to fish out her jeans from underneath the bed. Darcy sat back on the comforter and pulled his T-shirt back over his head, dejected. “Wow. This is what happens when I go back to living at home. —— I'm 16 again.”
“Blame Nan!” Lizzy was laughing, trying to get her left leg in its corresponding pant leg. “Well, this is a sign from the universe — this is a very bad idea.” She shook her hair out of its ruined ponytail, and swept it back up again into a loose knot. “Friendship it is. Bygones on.”
“Fuck the bygones,” Will insisted. “What if we just don't have breakfast?”
“That's not suspicious at all,” she muttered, grinning as she unfolded the cuffs of her jeans.
“What are you so afraid of?” he mused.
Lizzy stood up quickly, her green eyes intent on his face. I'm afraid of falling for you. “I don't want to miss out on those pancakes I've been hearing so much about.” She put her hands on her hips. “You Darcys keep feeding me good food — I'm starting to get spoiled here.”
Darcy gave her a quirked smile, and Elizabeth was struck again by how much she really liked him. He got up, and pressed a quick kiss to the side of her mouth, their hands interweaving for a brief moment. Lizzy paused to brush his hair back, then walked out into the hall, his footfall close behind her — it was comforting.
• • •
After breakfast, Lizzy was finally able to give Georgie her belated birthday gift, and the younger girl eagerly tore open the black velvet box with as much unbridled enthusiasm as a kid on Christmas morning. It was a white-gold locket around a wire chain, with the name Georgiana etched in tiny, elegant cursive. She threw her arms over her neck. “It's so pretty! Thank you, Lizzy.”
“Of course.” She returned the hug, pleased. “I'm really happy that you like it.”
“Duh. Where did you get it?” Georgie asked, and Lizzy helped her with the clasp.
“My friend, Maggie King — her niece designs her own jewelry, has a shop out in Bristol. She does her own engraving, too.”
“Well, it's beautiful.”
“Happy birthday.”
“It definitely is.”
Lizzy rose to get up from the dining room table, but Georgie caught her hand. “Stay another day.”
“I can't! I took off for Monday only. I can't have another sub tomorrow, too.”
“Stop being so responsible.”
“I'm really not,” Elizabeth insisted, laughing shortly. “Take my word for it.”
Georgie sighed, and got up, pushing her chair in. “I'm gonna put the kettle on — want some tea?”
“Sure.”
She left, and Lizzy stood before the great bay window, staring out into the wide back lawn. Will was slowly trying to repair the damage to the veranda, with Charlie helping him. They had already nailed in the wooden foundation over the last two hours — the smell of sawdust was still pungent in the air. All that was left was to do was a quick paint job. Lizzy watched as Charlie dipped a roller in white paint and deliberately tracked it over Will's black T-shirt. He jumped back with a laugh, and ducked out of the way before Will could catch him.
Lizzy giggled with them. She felt so… peaceful here. Who'd have known?
On the dining room table, her phone buzzed in her purse — Lizzy turned back and pulled it out. The screen read Jane. She hesitated before answering it. “Hi, hon — what's up?”
Her sister's voice was panicky and breathless, and Lizzy instinctively felt a spike of dread run up her spine. “Lydia's gone.”
22
—
When It Rains, It Pours
Darcy watched Lizzy from where he stood, leaning against the doorframe. He still had on his muddied work boots, and the back of his neck was damp with sweat. Lizzy looked over her shoulder at him, and her mouth turned up in a crooked smile. “You have white paint all over your jeans.”
“Charlie — that bastard.”
She chuckled, and focused back on her suitcase, tucking a pair of flats into a side pocket. And then she zipped the bag up and wheeled it onto the floor.
“Let me help you look for her.” Will's voice was low.
Elizabeth shook her head, and crossed her arms tightly over her body — for a moment, he thought she might be shivering. “No, no. Lydia's just pulling a stunt. She's pissing Mom off because they had a huge row. It's happened before. I mean… when she was 13.”
Darcy's mouth settled into a grim line. And when she met his eye the last few chords of reserve within her stretched and snapped — Lizzy began to cry. He was quick to pull her into his arms, and his hands moved in wide, comforting circles on her back. She feared that she couldn't bring herself to let him go. Will's lips brushed against her hair. “She's gonna be okay. —— You know that, right?”
“No,” Lizzy mumbled, into his shoulder.
Jane, bless her, had struggled to work the panic out of her voice over the phone — she was now all business. For once in her life, it was Lizzy who was brimming with emotion and hysteria. Her little sister — her stupid, stupid baby sister. Lydia had been staying with her parents for the last two weeks, throwing one argument after the next. Her dad had phoned her just the other day, sulking from his den — “I can't handle this much estrogen in the house, Lizzy. Your mother and Lydia have been at each other's throats since that girl got home. They fight about her future and how short her skirts are and everything in between. I am going to take a sabbatical!”
“Dad, it's only a sabbatical if you'll be returning.”
“Oh. Then, I'm moving out.”
Lydia had left to meet some friends at a diner, and had not been seen for over 48 hours. When Jane called, they had just found her car, a tan 1997 Corolla, parked and empty outside Matlock Park. Her cell phone, keys and wallet lay deserted on the passenger seat, no other trace of the girl to be seen.
“I feel sick,” Elizabeth said, smiling, mirthless. She was shaking. Will put his hands on her shoulders and drew back, searching her face.
“I'm gonna drive you back.”
“No,” she said, firmly. “No. No.”
“But—”
“Absolutely not.”
His arms dropped, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know, if stubbornness were an Olympic event—”
“I'd take the gold,” Lizzy said, smiling wide. �
�Yeah, I know. I'm the friggin' Michael Phelps of standing my ground. But I'm kinda proud of it, to tell you the truth. I'm a pain in the ass.”
Will was staring at her now, his blue eyes intent on her face. Something fleeting crossed his features — a quick twist of his lips. Lizzy wanted to know what he was thinking. They were eerily (and frustratingly) similar that way — neither wanted to directly voice what they were feeling about the other … unless they were inebriated.
For a moment, Lizzy wondered comically if they would shake hands at the end of this all. What is this all?
But then Darcy walked her out and spent 15 minutes outside with her in the driveway, saying goodbyes that were more than goodbyes. And when she drove away and watched his shape grow smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror, Lizzy felt a needle-sharp ache in her chest, thinking for a brief and terrifying moment that she may never see him again.
• • •
Georgie was entirely displeased with her brother, and decided to spout every type of obscenity she could think of, if only for the sole purpose of getting him to stop moving. “You're an idiot!” she argued. “It is pouring rain — at least wait until the morning!”
“No — I have to go,” Will insisted, zipping up his jacket. He pulled the hood up, and searched through the coat closet, reaching his hand over the top shelf. “Shit. No umbrellas. That sucks.”
“But she explicitly told you not to!” said Georgie. “Sure, in different weather I'd be all for you ignoring that — because it's kind of romantic — but I fear thunderstorms like it's my goddamn occupation —— so please do not go!” She finished with an emphatic foot stomp. “The bypass floods like a bitch when it rains. You know that.”
“So, I'll hydroplane a bit. I'm an incredibly skilled driver.”
“Arrogant ass.”
“Yeah, I know — it's something I'm working on,” said Will, smirking, half-serious.
“Georgiana, you've been using foul language all evening,” Nan said, calmly, from the dining room table, where she was practicing needlepoint. “I do still keep that swear jar above the mantle, you know. You now owe me $1.25.”
