Love to Love Her YAC (20 page)

A smile breaks across his face. “I thought
you’d never ask.”

Rhiannon – 9:30 AM

“S
o when are you
coming back?” asks Corinne. I hold my cell phone between my
shoulder and ear as I muck out Domino’s stall with a rake. Mom and
Tawny went out for a ride earlier, so I’m seizing the opportunity
to earn my keep. It’s been hugely important to stay busy this
week.

“Probably not for another week,” I respond.
“I talked to Dr. Esterline about our Math Methods test next week,
and she’s letting me take it when I get back. I’m just e-mailing my
homework until then. Which reminds me, thanks again for the notes
you’ve been sending me. I don’t know what I’d do without you guys,
you’ve been such a big help.”

“No need to say thank you,” Corinne brushes
me off. “You’d do the same thing for either of us if the situation
was reversed.”

“You know I would.”

“So, I know you may not want to hear about
this, but Ruthie said she saw Blake on campus the other day. They
didn’t talk or anything; she doesn’t think he saw her.”

“Yeah, she told me.” I bite my lip and remind
myself to breathe.

“Did she tell you he looked like shit?”

“No…”

“Apparently he had these circles under his
eyes and looked like he hadn’t combed his hair in a week. There’s
definitely something up.”

“I wonder what it is,” I say, feigning
ignorance. Unfortunately, not much gets past Corinne.

“Might it have something to do with the fact
you almost slept with him and then haven’t returned his calls in
days?”
Dammit
. I should have known she and Ruthie would be
comparing notes after each of our phone conversations.

“I’m going to call him today,” I say. “I’ve
just needed some time. It’s not like I haven’t had enough on my
plate.” My voice comes out harsher than I had intended.

“I know,” says Corinne, her voice softer. “I
didn’t mean to get on you. But maybe you should, you know, at least
text him and let him know you’re not dead.”

“You’re right. And I will. Today, okay? I
promise.”

“Okay, babe. Well I’ve gotta run, I have
class in five. Keep in touch. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” I tap End Call and tuck my
phone in the back pocket of my jeans. My arms burn, and my face is
ruddy from exertion and the cold. Through the stable door I can see
Mom and Tawny in the distance, heading back this way. I lean the
rake against the wall and start back to the house to get out some
things to make us lunch.

Blake – 12:00 PM

I
was ready to leave
for Winnemucca as soon as I left Spencer’s dorm last night, but he
talked me out of it. “Can I make a suggestion?” he’d asked as soon
as I finished dashing off Rhiannon’s parents’ address on a scrap
sheet of paper. “Don’t leave till tomorrow morning. Go home, take a
shower and get some sleep. She’ll be more likely to hear you out if
you don’t look and smell like you just rolled out of an asshole.” I
had to admit he had a point. And, as it turns out, I slept much
better last night knowing where Rhiannon is and feeling like I
finally have a purpose.

I called in sick this morning. In the three
years I’ve worked at the clinic I’ve only called in sick once, so I
didn’t feel bad about it. Honestly, Herb was probably secretly
relieved that he wasn’t going to have a living corpse drifting
through the clinic all day, disturbing his clients more than is
strictly necessary. Next I sent a mass text out to my group members
for class to let them know I wouldn’t be making it to our meeting
this afternoon. I’ll have plenty to catch up on when I get back,
but for the moment all that seems immaterial.

I’m an hour into my drive, about twenty miles
out of Reno, and I’m in uncharted territory. I’ve never been in
this part of Nevada before, but I’m enjoying trying to see it
through Rhiannon’s eyes. I imagine she must have made this exact
trip a number of times before. I’ve left behind the Ponderosa pines
and mountainous terrain of Lake Tahoe, and I’ve crossed an unmarked
threshold into the lunar landscape of the desert. Scrub brush and
sage grass grow in tufts, and the mountains in the distance are an
arid brown instead of snowcapped gray.

I stop for gas just past the exit for Rye
Patch State Recreation Area. As I’m waiting for my tank to fill I
decide to give Jordan a call. She picks up on the fourth ring.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Hey, you. What are you up to today?”

“Not a whole lot. Just wanted to let you know
I’m gonna be pretty busy this weekend and may not be able to talk
much.”

“Oh, okay. Busy with what?”

“Just working on some stuff,” I reply
vaguely.

“All right, well don’t work too hard. I’ll
just talk to you next week.” This is the first time I can remember
feeling thankful for Jordan’s complete lack of interest in my
comings and goings.

“K, have a good one.” I hang up, feeling
satisfied that Rhiannon and I won’t be interrupted by an awkward
phone call from her.

Next I search on my phone for hotels in
Winnemucca. If I’m being honest, I’m hoping to be able to stay at
Rhiannon’s parents’ house, but I don’t want to be presumptuous, so
I figure I’d better have a backup plan in place. I’ve scoped out a
Best Western that looks promising before the gas pump clicks off
with a jerk.

I cross Winnemucca city limits at a few
minutes shy of two o’clock. I pull over to enter the address Spence
gave me into the GPS on my phone. It directs me to a rural stretch
of road on the southeastern outskirts of town. A white mailbox sits
at the road with “The Reads” painted on the side in black
calligraphy. The house is a sprawling brown stucco ranch. It has a
wide wraparound porch roofed with lattice that’s covered in some
type of green vine and has a number of trees and bushes growing
around it. A gravel lot stretches between the house and an
outbuilding that must be the garage. I pull in beside a white Civic
with a WSC sticker in the back windshield. This has to be
Rhiannon’s car – I’ve never seen her drive it, so I never knew what
sort of vehicle she had.

Now that I’m here it’s hard not to begin
having second thoughts. I’m frozen in my seat for some time after
cutting the ignition, staring out at a range of mountains to the
south. Suddenly it seems highly inappropriate for me to be here at
such a time, when Rhiannon and her family are fighting another,
much weightier battle. But knowing how she must be hurting, there
isn’t any way I could forgive myself if I wasn’t there for her.
Besides, knowing the way we left things, it seems to me it can only
help Rhiannon to clear the air and resolve the issues that have
built up around us for the past several weeks.

I swing my door open and start for the porch,
leaving my duffel bag in the passenger seat. The front door is
stained oak with a frosted window of beveled glass. I stare at it
for a few seconds, take a deep breath, and push the doorbell.

Rhiannon – 2:15 PM

T
he sun feels warm
on the back of my neck as I sit at the table on the glassed in back
porch folding laundry. Occasionally a cloud skates across the sky
and blocks the sun, causing a chill to pass through the air, but
for the most part this has been the perfect crisp fall day. Soon
Tawny will be home from school. Mom offered to keep her home the
rest of the week, but she claimed it would help her return to some
sense of normalcy if she kept going, and none of us could argue
with her logic. She’ll be missing enough as it is in the coming
weeks when she starts her new treatment. Her first chemo infusion
is next Wednesday.

The sliding glass door leading into the
kitchen whooshes open, and Mom comes out. She has a strange look on
her face as if she’s trying to look stern, but the smile in her
eyes betrays her. “What’s up?” I ask cautiously as I roll a pair of
socks.

“You have a visitor,” she says.

I frown. “Who is it?”

“A very handsome young man who says his name
is Blake?” She raises her eyebrows, waiting for my reaction. My
heart skips a beat and the air rushes from my lungs.

“Are you sure?” I ask weakly.

“He’s in the living room. I don’t think I
imagined him.”

Slowly I push back my chair and stand.

“I thought I’d check with you before sending
him out here,” she says. “Just in case you needed me to run him off
or anything.”

“No no, it’s fine,” I say, trying to reassure
myself as much as I am her. “This is just…unexpected.”

“He did say you wouldn’t be expecting
him.”

I nod. “Thank you,” I say as I sidestep her
to enter the house. I wish I could run to the bathroom and check my
reflection before facing him, but it’s too late for that. I stand
in the kitchen, forcing myself to take deep breaths, then walk into
the living room.

Blake
–
2:15 PM

M
rs. Read seems
really nice. She looks different in that she has auburn hair and a
longer nose, but it’s easy to see Rhiannon in her teeth-baring,
eye-crinkling smile and sculpted cheekbones. She offered me a
drink, which I declined, and left me sitting on the couch while she
went to fetch Rhiannon.

I labor to slow my breathing and the rapid
report of my heartbeat as I take in my surroundings. The living
room has an abundance of light – the wall to the right boasts a
huge picture window, and two sets of sliding glass doors on the
facing wall lead out to the front deck. On the left is an arched
doorway that opens into a wood paneled corridor. A small upright
piano is in the corner beside an overstuffed chaise longue
upholstered in heavy gold brocade, and the sofa and armchair are
dark brown leather. An Oriental rug covers the floor.

Footsteps sound behind me, and I turn. My
heart threatens to gallop straight out of my chest when I see her
standing uncertainly in the doorway that leads to the kitchen.
She’s wearing a Utah Jazz sweatshirt that’s several sizes too large
and makes her look minuscule in comparison. She has on a pair of
gray leggings underneath, and her feet are bare. Her bright red
toenails and small silver toe ring don’t escape my attention. It
takes every shred of willpower left in me not to rush over to her.
Her deer-in-headlights expression lets me know it would be more
prudent not to make any sudden moves.

I stand and walk as slowly as my aching legs
will let me around the couch to stand in front of her. I reach out
and grasp her shoulders in my hands, savoring the warmth of the
current that flows between us. When she doesn’t cringe away from my
touch, I step a little closer and slowly pull her to me until my
arms are wrapped all the way around her slim frame and my cheek
rests against the top of her head.

At first she feels limp like a wilted rag
doll, but bit by bit she comes alive in my arms, and soon she’s
squeezing me back with everything she has. We stand like this for
minutes or hours or years as a clock ticks somewhere behind me, and
when she begins to shift it still seems too soon. I kiss the top of
her head as she draws away and keep my hands on her waist. She
lifts her chin to gaze up at me, and her eyes are pink and wet with
tears. I watch her, consumed by feelings of adoration and
tenderness, and when a fat drop escapes to roll down her cheek I
swipe it away with my thumb. “Shhh,” I whisper. “It’s okay.
Everything’s gonna be okay.”

Rhiannon – 5:30 PM

T
he comfort and
relief of having Blake hold and reassure me was indescribable. I
didn’t ever want to let go, but I knew Mom could walk around the
corner at any moment, even though I’m pretty sure she was purposely
making herself scarce. I still don’t know why he’s here, because we
haven’t had any alone time since shortly after he arrived, but for
now I’m fine with the not knowing. Sometimes ignorance really is
bliss.

The look on Tawny’s face when she walked in
and saw us sitting at the kitchen table was utterly priceless. Her
jaw dropped practically to the floor, and all I could do was toss
her an understanding smile. Blake is completely oblivious to his
effect on post-pubescent females.

Now Tawny and I are setting the table for
dinner while Mom puts the finishing touches on her preeminent
braised short ribs. Blake and my dad, meanwhile, are off somewhere
talking about God knows what.

“Okay, spill,” says Tawny. “What is he doing
here?” I glance over her shoulder at Mom and notice her perking up,
straining to hear any juicy tidbits I might let drop.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” I say loudly enough
for both of them to hear. “We haven’t really had time to discuss it
yet.”

“Is he your boyfriend?” asks my sister.

“No, he’s a friend.”

“But he likes you,” she says, as if it’s a
proven fact.

I smile and shake my head, thinking it might
be best if I didn’t mention he’s already taken. I’d like to
minimize the girlfriend-related inquisition as much as
possible.

“Food’s ready!” Mom calls in what has become
her ritual dinnertime battle cry. Tawny and I sit; I notice she
takes the seat on the other side of Mom to leave open the space
next to me. Dad takes his place at the head of the table, and Blake
takes the chair on my left. As soon as he sits he discretely scoots
his chair a few inches closer to mine. The clinking of dishes and
jingling of silverware are the only sounds to be heard as we pass
around the plates of steaming food.

“So how long will you be staying, Blake?” Mom
asks as she spears a Brussels sprout with her fork.

Blake clears his throat and glances at me
before answering. “That sort of depends,” he says.
On what?
I wonder. “I have to drive back to Carson City by Sunday.”