Just Between You and Me

by Jenny B. Jones

  “Freeze, short stuff.”

  She stops in the doorway but doesn’t turn around.

  “Is reading hard for you?”

  “No!” She spins around on her new ballet flat. “I’m not stupid!”

  “I didn’t say you were.” I stand up and go to her, but she takes two steps back. “Riley, it’s okay if reading is hard. Math is difficult for me, but look how good you are at it.”

  “I can read.” Her words come out with all the force of bullets.

  “Sure you can. But I’d like to help you read even better. I think it would make all your homework easier.” How can a kid read the directions to any assignment if she can’t even decipher the words? No wonder math is her strength. She probably mimics the teacher’s demonstration and just applies it to all the problems.

  Tears pool in Riley’s eyes, and she dashes them away. “I’m not dumb.”

  “Of course you’re not. Who would say that?”

  “Everyone.” She sniffs loudly. “Everyone says I’m dumb, but I’m not!”

  “Even smart girls need help.”

  “I don’t need your help. I don’t even like you, and I wish you’d never showed up. My mom was right—you’re just mean and don’t care about anybody.”

  “Riley—”

  She runs through the living room, and the door rattles the walls on her way out. I watch her out the picture window, as she heads to the backyard. Guessing where she’s going, I quickly run back to the kitchen in time to see her scale the rickety ladder up the tree.

  Deciding to let her cool down for a while, I pick up my cell and call John.

  “Hey,” he says on the second ring. “I’ve missed your voice.”

  I never know what to say to that. “Yeah, I just wanted to return your call.” I fill him in on the basics of the last few days.

  “Does your dad know she can’t read?”

  “I don’t know. He’s at work. As usual. I think he still doesn’t know what to do with a child, so it’s easier to just stay out of the way.” But what will he do when I’m gone? What will become of Riley?

  “I thought maybe I could come see you.”

  “What?” Bad idea! Really bad idea. The script of my “it’s not you, it’s me” speech scrolls through my head, and suddenly it seems like the best possible solution to the mess that is John and me.

  “I don’t know if I can go without seeing you a whole other week.”

  Never mind that we go weeks without seeing one another all the time. “John, um . . .” Here it comes. Time to get it out there. “I think I really need this space.”

  “Between you and me?”

  “Yeah. Um . . . I don’t think you should come down to Texas. I’ve got a lot going on right now, and I just can’t think about us at the moment.”

  “What’s there to think about?” Before I can answer he plods on. “Remember when we first started dating, and you warned me that when guys get close, you break it off?”

  “Yes.” I don’t know why I was so honest with the guy, but I felt like he deserved to know what he was getting into. I come with my own warning label.

  “I think this is just you running scared. And you know what?”

  I’m afraid to ask.

  “I’m not going to let you do that.”

  “No, really. I need some time to think and straighten some stuff out and—”

  “I’m not going to let you push a good thing away, Maggie. I’m strong enough for the both of us.”

  Does the guy get his lines off Lifetime movies? “It’s over, John. I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry.”

  “Just like that? You’re walking away? Maggie, you’re just stressed and overwhelmed.”

  “Yes, but it’s more than that.”

  “Doesn’t any part of you want to try?”

  Sometimes being an adult is highly overrated. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t.” Because heaven forbid I be normal—have a real relationship verses a series of dates. “I wish I did. Maybe I just need to retire from dating, get a house full of cats, and call it good.”

  He sighs. “The right guy will make you want to stay and fight for it—”

  “And . . . I’m afraid you’re not him.”

  Silence on the other end. “I’m not going to talk you out of this, am I? You’re going to give up on five months?”

  “I do care about you—but it’s not enough. You deserve more than that.”

  A long moment of silence passes. “I will miss you, Maggie. But . . . I guess I understand.”

  “Take care of yourself.” I hang up and relief battles with the guilt. But I couldn’t keep on seeing this guy. I’m relationship TNT. God, what’s wrong with me that the closer they get, the more I want to run? Why am I so afraid of love? And commitment . . . and circus clowns.

  I rehearse a few things in my head to say to Riley, then walk outside into the cool morning breeze of the day.

  “Riley? I’m coming up.” I test the first rung, then climb the rest to the very top. Pushing open the door, I find it unlocked and needles of apprehension prickle my skin. “Riley?”

  I eyeball the entire space. She’s gone.

  “Riley!” With flashbacks of my first day in town, I yell her name as I canvas the yard. I check the spot where she keeps her bike, but find it barren as well. Great. Not only is she upset, but she’s upset and mobile.

  Jumping in the car, I make two sweeps of the neighborhood before cruising through the rest of town. I need one of those police bullhorns. Or the handcuffs, so I can chain her to her room. Forever. This kid is so grounded. I’m talking time-out for infinity. She’ll see the light of day when the Jonas Brothers are on their twenty-year reunion tour.

  Thirty minutes later, just as I’m trying to decide whether to give into screaming or crying, my phone rings.

  “Yes?”

  “Maggie, it’s Beth.”

  “Beth! Riley’s run away again and—”

  “She’s okay. Connor’s got her. She found a hurt puppy and apparently put him in her basket, then road all the way to the Ivy Lake Animal Clinic.”

  “All the way out at the lake?” Is she nuts? Those roads are narrow out there.

  “Connor wanted me to call you and let you know she’s fine.”

  “I’m on my way. And, Beth?”

  “Yeah?” Kids scream in the background.

  “Thanks.”

  “That’s what friends are for, Maggie.”

  I drive toward the lake to the vet clinic, not even bothering to look at the majestic trees or the changing scenery. God, what do I say to Riley? And why would she listen to me? By this time next week I’ll be gone. Not out of her life, but not a consistent fixture either. Where is she going to get the stability she needs?

  I spring from the Focus and open the lobby door, sending a bell to jangling. The sounds of yipping dogs greet me, and I walk by a woman with two cats hissing in a crate.

  The same receptionist mans the front desk. “You again?”

  “Is my niece here? I think she brought in a puppy.”

  “Just a minute. I’ll page Dr. Blake.” She picks up her phone and speaks into it. “He said to go into examining room number two.” She points across the hall to a door with two red bones on the door.

  Dodging a Labrador on the loose, I approach the door and give it a small knock before entering. I don’t know why. It’s not like the puppy needs any privacy.

  “Hello.” I look from Connor to my niece to the dog. “I hear you have a new patient.”

  A small cocker spaniel whimpers from the table.

  “She’s really hurt,” Riley says, with eyes only for the animal. “I found her in a drainage ditch, bleeding really bad.”

  “Was this before or after you ran away?” I ask.

  “Riley probably saved this dog’s life.” Connor places a gentle hand on the dog’s dirty head. “There’s some serious infection in her leg. If it had spread, she wouldn’t have made it.” His blue eyes fuse with mine.
“As it is, it’s going to be a pretty serious treatment.”

  Riley’s bottom lip quivers. “He—he says he doesn’t know if she’ll get to keep her leg.”

  I stand transfixed as Connor puts a strong arm around my niece . . . and she lets him. She leans into his side and wipes a hand across her red nose.

  “I’m sure if anyone can help your puppy, it’s Dr. Blake here.” The words surprise me as much as they do Connor.

  “My puppy?” Riley asks. “I can keep her?”

  “No, what I meant was that you found it and—” I watch the hope fade from her face. Pain returns. “Let’s just see how things go, okay? I promise I’ll make sure she’s taken care of.”

  “I need to get the dog into surgery.” Connor’s voice is calm, but strong. “I wanted to make sure someone was with Riley first.” He turns to my niece. “Running away was not cool, Riley. You should’ve had an adult bring you here. But I’m glad you trust me with this dog, and I’m going to do everything I can to help her.”

  Riley nods her head and loses her battle with tears. “I love this puppy.”

  I rest my hand on her shoulder. “How about we let Dr. Blake do his thing, huh? You and I need to talk, and Dr. Blake can call us at home with an update.”

  He smiles at Riley, and for the first time I see the dimple in his right cheek. “I’ll let you know how it goes and tell you everything when I pick up your aunt tonight.”

  I fight the urge to squirm as his gaze lingers on me.

  Riley says good-bye to the scruffy mess, and it occurs to me that this is as childlike as I’ve ever seen her. As broken and defenseless as she’s ever been. No filter. No bull. Just Riley, a girl hurting for another wounded creature.

  I put the car in drive and turn the radio off. “You can’t keep running away, Riley. You can’t ride away on your bike every time you get upset.”

  “What do you care?”

  Back to that, are we? “I do care. You’re my niece, and I don’t like the idea of you by yourself somewhere in town. And it’s crazy to just go shooting off every time something doesn’t go your way. Big girls don’t run. They stick it out and deal with the problem.”

  “Is that what you do?”

  Well, no. But I’m a screwed-up mess who eats candy by the pound and breaks up with men as frequently as one spits out a piece of gum. But we’re not talking about me here! “Why’d you leave, little missy? Spill it.”

  “I dunno.”

  I switch the radio back on and hit the scan button. “First polka station that lands on, I’m crankin’ it up and singing along.”

  “Fine!” She snaps off the music. “Because I’m stupid. Okay?” She throws up her hands. “I’m dumb. My mom said I’m dumb, and I am.”

  I can’t even breathe in this car. I roll down a window and let in some spring air before I Hulk out and hurt someone. “You listen to me. You are not dumb. I’ve met a lot of dumb people in my life”— dated quite a few too—“and you are not dumb. When I told you you were smart, I meant it. You are the sharpest little girl I’ve ever met. So if your mother said that, she was wrong.” From the corner of my eye, I glance at my niece. Her face is chiseled in stone. “I know you don’t totally understand this, but your mom sometimes doesn’t know what she’s saying. Her brain tells her to say and do things that it shouldn’t. So I know she didn’t mean what she said.”

  The lip trembles again, and Riley’s voice drops to a whisper. “But I am stupid. I don’t get anything in school. Everyone laughs at me when I’m called on.”

  My stomach in a pretzel knot, I reach for her hand and hold it tight when she tries to pull away. “Um . . . well, those kids are being mean, and I know you would never make fun of someone like that.” Though you wouldn’t hesitate to rip someone’s hair out. “But we’re going to show them how smart you really are. You and I are going to fix this, okay, Riley? I mean it. We Montgomery girls have to stick together, right?”

  She sniffs. “Not really.”

  “Work with me here.”

  “Stick together. Like underwear with static cling.”

  I reach out and brush a tear from her cheek. “No more running away?”

  “I can only promise so much in one day.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The doorbell rings at ten ’til six, and I feel as skittish as a sixteen- year-old on her first date. Why didn’t I insist on meeting Connor at the dance studio? It’s not like it’s a big deal or anything. Okay, I might’ve changed clothes four times, as evidenced by the pile of shirts and skirts on my bed. But, so? I like to look nice. That has nothing to do with a brooding, mercurial vet who happens to have a healing touch with animals and children.

  “I’ll get it!” Riley yells, sailing down the stairs and, from the sounds of it, skidding to a halt in the entry as her sock feet hit the hardwood. “It’s Dr. Blake!”

  God, help me to just calm down. This evening is a favor to Beth, and I can get through this.

  Gliding my hand down the banister, I take each step slowly, giving my courage a little time to build. It doesn’t work. Maybe I should ask Riley to go.

  “What’s the latest on the puppy?” My niece gazes up at Connor like he’s a living, breathing Superman. “Did she make it?”

  Connor runs his hand over Riley’s unruly hair. “Of course she did. She’s sleeping now.” He spares me a glance. “But she did lose that leg.”

  Riley sucks in her lips. “How will she walk?”

  “You’ll be surprised. She’ll be up and walking in no time. Animals adapt surprisingly well after losing a limb. The puppy will still be able to run and play and have a normal life. She’ll just be different.”

  Riley’s brow furrows. “But who will want her now?”

  I step forward, throwing my purse over my arm. “We’ll worry about that later. I’ll make sure she has a good home. Right now, let’s just focus on the dog getting better. What do you say to Dr. Blake?”

  Riley’s frown doesn’t budge. “Thanks.”

  “You’re the one who saved a dog today, Riley,” Connor says. “God must’ve known you were just the girl for the job.”

  Riley does a figure eight with her toe, and I can almost hear the wheels spinning in her little mind as she chews over Connor’s words.

  “Are you ready?” he asks, his intense eyes on me.

  No. I want to puke. “Riley, Grandpa’s cooking pizza for you in the kitchen. Why don’t you go see if he needs help. I’ll be back later. Or you could go with us perhaps.”

  She laughs. “Borrrring.”

  There went that idea.

  “Don’t do anything gross like kissing.” Riley makes gagging noises in the back of her throat.

  I roll my eyes and laugh with embarrassment. “Like I’d kiss Connor.” Omigosh! Did I just say that? Out loud?

  “I’ll give you an update on the puppy tomorrow,” Connor says to my niece, holding open the door. “Maybe we can arrange a visit.”

  Connor shuts the door behind us, and my shoes click on the sidewalk. “Sure you don’t want me to drive separately? I don’t mind.”

  He says nothing until I’m belted in his truck. Connor puts the vehicle in reverse, his focus on the rearview mirror. “Any particular reason you’re afraid to be alone with me?”

  “I typically limit myself to hanging out with people who like me. It makes for a better evening.”

  “I don’t dislike you.”

  “I don’t really care what you think of me. This is a favor to Beth, so let’s just put our personal differences aside and get this done.”

  “Fine.”

  “Good.”

  He turns up the radio and the piano-driven lyrics of The Fray fill the truck.

  “So your dad tells me you’re a cinematographer for a travel show.”

  I lied when I said I didn’t care what he thought of me. It drives me nuts when people don’t like me. Will the sixteen-year-old in me ever grow up? “Um, yeah. I am. We’re working on the last few shows of
the season. You talk to my dad?”

  Connor turns the wheel onto Central Avenue. “I talk to most people in town. It’s a shame he had to go back to work. Especially with things being so precarious at the factory. If it closes, it will hurt the whole town.”

  “Reliant Tires has been here for years. It is Ivy.”

  Sometimes I think about my job and how stale it’s become. And then I feel guilty. I have a job. I have a paycheck. I should just be grateful, right?

  We spend the rest of the ride in alternating bouts of polite small talk and awkward silence.

  “Here we are.” Connor pulls up to the Mansfield School of Dance. Turning off the engine, he turns his head and looks at me with civil resignation. “You ready?”

  “Can’t wait.”

  He holds open the door to the studio and lets me walk in first. Five couples are already on the floor, twirling and swirling and doing all sorts of Dancing with the Stars moves.

  When I turn around, Connor is introducing himself to an older couple. His smile presses deep into his cheeks, and his face is animated in friendly conversation. I guess he reserves the neutral mask just for me. What an honor.

  The music begins, and Connor returns to my side.

  “Okay, class!” The older gentleman claps his hands. “I’m Fred Mansfield and that’s my bride of forty-five years, Martha.” The woman does a sweeping bow. “We’re going to quickly review the basics for the sake of our newcomers, then pick up where we left off last week.”

  Oh no. I can’t ballroom dance! I can kick butt on some Dance Dance Revolution, but something elegant and refined? Nope.

  “You have that look on your face again.”

  I’m startled to see Connor standing so close. I take a step back. “What do you mean?”

  “That look that says you’d rather be sky diving than get close to me.”

  “I have no idea what you mean.” Though a good freefall from the sky does sound nice right about now.

  He holds out his arms, a smug look on his face. “Afraid to dance with me, Maggie the Fearless?”

  I swallow and consider telling him the truth. “No. Just don’t step on my feet. I’m sensitive like that.” I offer him my hand, and he wraps his warm fingers around it.