Just Between You and Me

by Jenny B. Jones

  “She did it!” Riley scoops up the dog and presses her to her cheek. “You did it, Matilda!”

  Connor moves beside me, his voice low. “You’re not crying, are you?”

  I sniff and blink back the sheen of moisture. “Nah.” I so need a Kleenex. And my camera. “It’s strange, but anymore I just live for these moments. Where my niece is happy. Completely, lost-in-the-moment happy.” My sigh blows my bangs off my forehead. “Why am I telling you this?”

  He just smiles.

  Before I can toss out a barb to take the edge off that infuriating arrogance, he walks back to Riley.

  “I like your new haircut, Riley.”

  My niece glows under Connor’s compliment, but keeps her focus on the dog. “Thanks. Maggie took me to a day at the spa.” She shrugs. “It was okay.”

  Okay? How many times have I caught that girl looking at herself in the mirror?

  “You’ve got an awesome aunt,” he says.

  “She feeds me Hot Pockets.”

  He looks at me and lifts an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, Riley. Sounds like you’re in need of a good meal then. How about you and your aunt come out to my house tonight? We’re having a family fish fry. You can even bring some friends.”

  “No,” I’m quick to say. “We’ve already got plans.”

  “But—”

  “Sorry,” I interrupt my niece and cap it off with an innocent smile. “Maybe another time.” Like never.

  Riley crosses her arms. “You said I got to pick whatever we did tonight. You promised.”

  She lays her cards out like a Texas Hold ’Em champ. “I meant ice cream or—”

  “Never mind.” She picks the dog up and nuzzles it to her cheek. “Go ahead. Go back on your word. I’m used to people doing that.”

  Connor looks at me as if to say, Do you want to beat the dog while you’re at it?

  “Fine. I’m sorry. You’re right, Riley. I—”

  “Yes!” She punches her fist in the air, her face totally triumphant.

  I just got had by one short scam artist. “But I’ll just drop you off for a bit. I have work to do.”

  Connor nudges my niece. “I don’t think that was what you wanted, was it?”

  “No,” she says. “Is a little quality time together too much?”

  He gives his head a sorrowful shake. “I sure don’t think so. But there will be plenty of adults at my house who’ll be glad to spend time with you.”

  “Okay, fine! I’ll go.” It’s like tag-team harassment. “But we can’t stay long.”

  Riley’s face is as solemn as a funeral mourner. “I’ll be happy with whatever bit of time with you I can get.”

  I make a leap for her, snaking my arm around her neck and tickling her ribs with my other hand. “You are so full of it.” She collapses into me, her giggles filling the room.

  The puppy’s small yip brings us all back to attention. “Oh, she’s so cute, isn’t she?” Riley says wistfully. “What will you do with her when she’s healed?”

  Connor bends down and rubs the dog’s silky head. “Actually, I have a family interested in taking her next week.”

  “What?” Riley’s face pales. “No. You can’t. She won’t know them.”

  I rest my hand on her back. “You knew you couldn’t keep the dog.”

  She shrugs away from me. “That is so unfair! Nobody’s gonna love Matilda more than me. She needs me. She needs someone to love her.”

  My heart crumbles into a million pieces. Riley might as well be talking about herself. “I’m sorry. But you can visit her until she goes to live with the new family.”

  Tears stream down her cheeks. “It’s not the same. Matilda needs a real home—with me.” She dashes her hand across her face. “I’m going outside.” She hands the wiggling puppy to Connor and runs out, the sound of her growing sobs making me want to grab my niece and promise her the moon, the stars, and every dog in the universe.

  I stare at the door. “That was a mood spoiler.”

  “Riley’s really attached to the dog. She’s taken great care of her when she comes in to help.”

  “It has been good for her.”

  The dog licks Connor’s finger, and he scratches beneath her chin. “Have you asked your dad if Riley can keep Matilda?”

  “That’s pointless. He’d never let her have a pet. He hates animals.” And most people. And most family members.

  “You could try.”

  “No, I couldn’t. And I’m not. I know the man. Besides, we don’t have any idea where Riley will be in six months. Who’s to say she’ll be living with my dad then? If my sister can’t handle a child, she sure can’t handle a child and a cocker spaniel.”

  Connor steps closer, and I can’t stop my hand from reaching out and petting the dog. “What will you do if your sister can’t take care of Riley? Do you and your father have any plans in place?”

  “Panic?”

  But the good doctor doesn’t so much as crack a smile. “I know you’ll make the right decision.”

  “Why is it I feel like you’re waiting for me to come to some big epiphany? And that anything less than taking Riley home with me is what you’re waiting for me to say?”

  “You have to do what God puts on your heart. Either way, it’s going to take a lot of guts.”

  I huff and roll my eyes. “Which you don’t think I have. Well, thank you, Dr. Phil. I appreciate the parenting advice. If only it were that easy for the rest of us.” I walk toward the door, my shoes slapping the tile.

  It’s hard to make a dramatic exit when you’re wearing flip-flops.

  “See you at six. Come hungry.”

  “Yeah.” I stand in the entryway. “Thanks for manipulating me, by the way. Nothing like forcing a girl to hang out with you.”

  He places the dog back in the cage. “Wear something hot.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Riley slams the door as we walk into the house. Her Cons pound on the stairs as she runs to her bedroom.

  “Something wrong?” Dad asks from his recliner.

  I take a seat on the couch and let my head fall back. “She’s just getting attached to that puppy at the vet clinic. But other than that, we had a really good day.” I tell him all about our adventures at the spa with Beth and her girls. “Riley was great with Beth’s daughters. Totally behaved herself. She laughed the whole day.” Well, until Connor’s news pushed her over the edge.

  He flips the page on his Field & Stream. “She cares about you.”

  His words hang in the air, weighted, searching. Like he wants those four words to stand for a hundred. Why can’t men just say what they mean? I guess Connor does, but he’s different. Sometimes I’d rather he didn’t talk at all.

  “I care about Riley.” I stare at a petal-shaped crack in the ceiling. “What are we going to do about her?”

  Dad turns another page. “We wait and see what Allison does.”

  “Dad, you’ve been playing this game for years. Allison hasn’t straightened up yet. And Riley’s the one suffering.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” His eyes peer over the magazine. “I’m doing the best I can.”

  Isn’t that the same thing I told Connor? But hearing it out of my dad’s lips, I know—it’s not enough. “Riley needs consistency. She needs to know where she sleeps tonight is where she’ll sleep tomorrow night.”

  “Well, you’re the smart one.” He reaches for the remote and flicks on the TV. “When you get it figured out, let me know. In the meantime, I guess I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing.”

  “And what’s the plan when I go back home? I leave Monday for my interview with National Geographic. If they offer me a position, I could start in a few weeks.”

  He scrolls through the stations, stopping at a John Wayne movie. Ignoring me.

  “Nice talking to you,” I mumble and get up from my seat. “Riley and I will be going to Connor Blake’s for dinner.”

  He keeps his eyes on the Duke. “We
can ride together then.”

  I nearly fall out of my flip-flops. “What do you mean?” Foreboding prickles my skin.

  “Connor called just before you came in the door. Invited me to join his family fish fry.” Dad pulls a lever and props his feet up. “Nice guy. Told us to be there at six. Said to tell you to take a nap so you wouldn’t still be cranky.” Dad chuckles, and it takes me a moment to realize he’s not laughing at the movie. He’s laughing at me. Like he and Connor have this secret joke. And it’s nothing to share fish and hush puppies together. Connor knows I don’t want to hang around my dad. If there was any perk at all to going to this stupid outing, it’s that it gets me away from the house. Ohhh. There better be pie there.

  Upstairs, I sit on the bed and pull out my laptop. Opening my documentary file, I edit for a few minutes before shutting it down and signing on to Facebook instead.

  God, every time I look at these faces in my video footage, I feel as lost as they are. Defeated. I can’t be a documentarian. Who am I kidding? I run a camera. For other people. I have a great job with Passport to the World. What kind of ungrateful person couldn’t be satisfied with that? Sometimes I look back at the events that make up my life, and I wonder if I’ll ever be happy with anything. At some point, I’ve got to quit trying to prove myself . . . and just live.

  At a quarter ’til six, I join Riley and Dad in the living room.

  “Grandpa’s going with us.” Riley opens the front door, her sour mood a distant memory. “Isn’t that cool? And I called Josie and Zoey.”

  Neato. “Let’s go get your friends.” And like one awkward, ill-fitting family, we get in my car, buckle up as if we’re perfectly normal, and go to a fish fry.

  The girls chat the entire way, as Dad listens to baseball on the radio. And me? I keep the lid on an anxiety attack as we drive closer to the very lake that swallowed up the only parent who loved me.

  My stress accelerates as I pull into Connor’s driveway. Apparently this man has one big family, because I count at least twenty vehicles.

  As soon as I open the car door, I hear the bluegrass music. I tug up the top of my hot-pink sundress and wish for the millionth time I’d put on that little white jacket. Dad, Riley, and I follow the music to the backyard, where I see practically the whole town of Ivy. Kids run all over the place, throwing Frisbees, firing squirt guns. A group of adults toss a ball across a volleyball net. Men gather around a smoker, surveying the steam rising, as any self-respecting man would do.

  “Hello there!” A woman who could be Cinderella as a senior citizen greets us, her blonde-highlighted hair bouncing in a style worthy of any Hollywood starlet. “I’m Mary Katherine.”

  “Hi.” I introduce my father and the girls. “We’re, um . . . that is . . .” I can’t even talk. The crowd is totally overwhelming me. So many people. “Connor invited us. Family dinner?”

  She laughs, her vibrant blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “That’s Connor. Everyone’s family to him.”

  Danielle Chapel’s words float back through my mind. How Connor picks up helpless strays. Maybe that’s what I’ve become to him. Just a friend in his giant collection. Someone in need. But does he typically make out with good buddies?

  “What beautiful girls you are,” Mary Katherine says. “Look at your pretty nails.” She inspects the hands of each girl. “And you must tell me where you get your hair done.” The girls giggle and let the woman fawn all over them. “What a gorgeous dress,” she says to Josie.

  “My mom made it.”

  Beth is such a superwoman. In Chicago, all I do is work. I don’t even clean my own apartment. But Beth sews, works, raises four kids, and is about the most chipper person I know.

  It’s disgusting.

  Dad waves at some men playing horseshoes. “I’ll see you in a bit. I’m feeling lucky.”

  Mary Katherine leans down, her hands perched on her knees. “Girls, if you go over to that picnic table over there, I have it on good authority there’s some excellent lemonade to be had.”

  Riley gives me a cautious look, as if asking permission. “Go on. I’ll catch up with you.” The three all but skip away. “Don’t drink out of the pitchers!” I laugh at the woman’s face. “My niece is a little unpredictable.”

  She winks. “I used to know a girl like that.”

  I frown. “Excuse me?”

  “I worked at the Ivy Drug store years and years ago—back when they still had one of those old-time soda fountains. Your momma would come in and bring you and your sister at least once a week. She’d buy you candy and shakes and let you spin on the bar stools until you were about ready to puke up your ice cream.”

  Warmth blooms in my chest. “You knew my mother?”

  “I don’t know that anyone knew her. But we all were familiar with her. While she took care of business in the drug store, you’d stir up some trouble of your own. Unscrew salt shakers. Do cartwheels down the aisles. Talk Mrs. Brewster into letting you try out her cane. Seems like we had to peel you out of the front seat of the delivery car once or twice.”

  A rush of memories floods my mind. “I had forgotten all about that place. We were in there a lot, weren’t we? Probably where my sugar addiction was born.” That drug store is long gone. I think there’s a bank in its place.

  “Will you be staying in Ivy long?” She hooks a strand of hair behind her ears, setting the gold bangles on her wrist in motion.

  My eyes roam toward Riley. “I don’t know. I’m probably here for a few more weeks. I have some details to settle before I go. Chicago’s where I live now.”

  Her face goes wistful, like she sees something more in me. “Sometimes home has a way of calling you back.” Mary Katherine reaches out and pats my shoulder. “I hope you get everything taken care of.”

  A man with a full head of silver hair approaches. His smile is contagious, and I find myself returning it.

  “William, this is Maggie—Connor’s friend.” Mary links her arm in William’s. “Maggie, this is my husband.”

  “Nice to meet you.” He shakes my hand enthusiastically. “We think a lot of Connor Blake.”

  “Do you know him well?”

  Mary laughs. “Yes, he takes really good care of our poodle. Oh, I was supposed to bring ketchup outside to the picnic tables.” She flutters a hand toward the back door. “Would you be a dear and go get that for me?”

  “Sure.”

  Her pink smile is winsome. “I hope to see you again.”

  I slide open the screened back door and step into Connor’s gourmet kitchen. With his back to me, he stands at the stove, a huge skillet of fish frying on the burner. I take a moment to appreciate the view. His broad, strong back. His slightly faded jeans matched perfectly with a gray Abercrombie T-shirt.

  He turns around at that very moment. His eyes light on mine, and he smiles.

  “Hey.” I stop staring and make a beeline for the fridge. “Um, some woman named Mary Katherine sent me in here for ketchup.” Sticking my head in the door somewhere between some potato salad and a Jell-O mold, I let my face cool off.

  Connor says nothing as I scan the shelves. No ketchup. Maybe it’s in a cabinet. “Hey, where’s your”—I spin around and bump right into his chest. My hands brace on him for support—“ketchup?”

  Not moving an inch out of my space, he peeks around me. “I don’t see it anywhere.” His mouth sits near my ear, his breath sending a frisson of heat across my skin.

  I slide to the left to get some distance. “Don’t let me get in your way.”

  Shutting the refrigerator door, Connor watches me as he returns to the sizzling pan. “Mary Katherine, you say?”

  “Yes. Blonde woman. Ridiculously beautiful.”

  The corners of his mouth kick up in a smile as he flips a fish. “I’ll tell Mom you said so.”

  Oh. Well, of course. “So . . . the ketchup?”

  “It’s already out there. She took it out about half an hour ago.”

  “Maybe she wanted some
thing else.”

  I hear him mumble something that sounds like “more grandchildren.”

  “I’ll, um, just go on outside.”

  He scoops up the fish and piles it on a blue Fiesta plate. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “I don’t like to see desperation in a man, so what choice did I have?”

  Connor balances the plate on one hand, kissing my cheek as he walks by. “Pride is overrated.”

  “So are overly confident vets.” I rub my cheek with my fingers. “Why did you do that?”

  He shrugs, his face serious. “I have no idea.” With his hand on the screen door, he pauses. “Maggie, you’re here. Enjoy the evening. Eat some fish. You can’t solve any of the world’s problems tonight, so just relax and try to have a good time instead.”

  “You invited my dad.” My voice is toneless.

  “I also invited a Republican county judge and our Democratic sheriff.” Connor shrugs. “That’s the fun of being in charge of the guest list.”

  He walks outside, calling out to some friends, and leaves me standing alone. In his kitchen. Mulling over his weird attitude and the remnants of his cologne.

  Fifteen minutes later, Connor calls for everyone’s attention, and Pastor Thomas, the preacher from church, says a blessing over the food. The children go first, and I watch Riley weigh down her plate as she talks to Josie and her sister, Zoey, plus a few kids I’ve never seen before.

  After dinner, a group of old men pick up some stringed instruments and their music floats through the air. Pastor Thomas starts another volleyball game, and though he asks me to play, I decline. Connor watches, but doesn’t say a word. Pulling my camcorder from my purse, I follow the kids and catch their every laugh and giggle.

  The tiki torches are lit as the sun sets, and I find myself at odds and out of place. I don’t really know anyone. I long for my laptop and a quiet house. Feeling a magnet’s pull, I stand up, smoothing my skirt around me, and slip across the backyard and make the long trek to the edge of the property. To the water’s edge.

  A dock juts outs, bobbing slightly with the currents. The light from the house casts an eerie glow, as if warning me to stay away. Though this isn’t the pier where my mother died, it’s too close for comfort. The public access spot is a few miles away, and I’ve never returned. Never wanted to. Never could.