The Best I Could (40 page)

“Call me tonight?”

Lifting my chin, he asked, “Do you want me
to?”

“Yeah.”

Dropping a quick kiss on my lips, he released
me. “Then I’ll call.”

The house’s screen door creaked open. “Hey,
Tansy!” Jonathan greeted, waving, a smile on his face.

Backing toward my Buick, I returned the
wave.

With the work I still needed to do at the
clinic, the work at the orchard, and the steps I needed to do to
get out on my own, there wasn’t going to be a lot of time for
anything else in the days to come. However, it didn’t stop me from
glancing at Eli, my heart on my sleeves.

He mimicked a phone against his ear. “Talk
soon.”

I watched him in the rearview mirror when I
drove away, the orchard a portrait-perfect backdrop behind him.

The weekend couldn’t come fast enough.

After Monday, the rest of the week went a
little something like this:

Tuesday

I planted two new flower beds at the clinic
while laughing at Deena’s face when Hetty told her she’d be
replacing Eli at the rescue. Her first day was a disaster, her
clothes a stinky mess, and her mouth a spouting fountain of
profanities. She made Danny cry, and then apologized for it.

He glared at her, but then softened and
offered her a hug. His mother told him hugs fixed everything.

Eyes wide with horror, Deena fell into his
embrace. When she stepped back, she looked better, whether she
admitted it or not.

Later that night, she spent an hour in the
bathroom scrubbing.

I spent just as long on the phone with Eli.
Talking to him without seeing his face was nice.

I’d heard of restaurants that offered
romantic dinners in the dark. Supposedly, it heightened the dining
experience. Having to feel for the food, savoring it without
getting to look at it, made the flavors fuller because taste and
touch were heightened by the blindness.

It was the same with Eli. Not seeing and
touching him affected the way I thought about him. It forced me to
listen without being distracted by his scent and his body.

“You don’t like rap music?” he asked me,
startled.

“Not really,” I answered.

“Oh, you need to be reeducated, roof
girl.”

I laughed. “And if I told you I like new
age?”

He groaned. “That’s it, we can’t be …” His
words trailed off.

“Can’t be what?”

Friends? Lovers? A couple?

“Together,” he said finally.

I smiled because I liked the sound of that
word. Together.

Wednesday

Deena made me wake up early to run with her,
which ended with me walking some distance behind her, yelling
things like, “You want me to die, don’t you? Do you see any
zombies? I’ll run if there’s zombies. Or bears. I’ll run if there’s
bears, too. Or lions. Or—”

“Pussy!” she shouted.

“Did you really just call me a pussy?” I
yelled back.

God help us if there were little kids
around.

Afterwards, even though I’d never admit it to
Deena, I felt energized.

I managed to finish the entire path in the
orchard garden and clear one plot before having to leave. Eli
didn’t make it home before I had to go. His new community service
project meant long hours building low income houses for people in
need.

I won’t lie. I kept picturing him with a
hammer in his hand, his jeans slung low, and his shirt off.
Because, you know, hormones and all.

When he called me that night, he sounded
tired.

“We can talk tomorrow if it’s better,” I told
him.

“I’m good.” His bed creaked. “You talk. I’ll
listen. Tell me what you did today.”

I described the garden at the orchard, how I
pictured it in my head—bursts of colors linked by the winding path,
ending in flowers, a small backyard fountain, and a set of benches
that Pops would have to get someone else to install.

After a moment, I realized Eli’s breathing
was too deep. Too steady.

“Eli?”

Nothing. He’d fallen asleep.

Sleep made me brave. “I think I love you,” I
told the phone.

Quietly, I hung up, satisfied knowing he’d
just wanted to hear my voice.

Thursday

Deena made me run again.

Given the way my calf muscles still burned
from the day before, I hated her. Or loved her, if my running with
her again despite the pain was any indication.

Wait, I walked.

I’d be lying if I said I ran. I walked,
calling out words of encouragement to her as we went.

“Thank you,” she told me afterward, her hands
on her knees, her breath coming fast. “Thank you for doing this
with me.”

“Hey,” I said, emotion welling up inside of
me. I popped the band on my wrist. “I’m super proud of you, you
know?”

She stared, her eyes brightening. “I was
wrong, Tansy.”

“For what?”

“For blaming you for Dad. I’m not as angry as
I was.”

Popping the band on my wrist again, I smiled
and said, “I know.”

We moved on, past the moment. She returned to
the rescue, calling out a greeting to Danny. I went to the
orchard.

Two more plots had been cleared when my phone
rang. It was the landscaping company. I hung up with them,
smiling.

Later that night, when Eli’s name flashed on
the screen, I answered it too quickly.

“I got the job,” I said in a rush. “With the
landscaping company. I start next week. By then, I should be done
with most of the big stuff at the orchard. The job is only three
days a week to begin with. Luckily, they service a lot of
businesses, so there’s plenty of work in the fall and winter, too.
And they’re willing to work around whatever schedule I have at the
school. Did I tell you I’d decided to go back? A two-year college
in Atlanta to begin with.”

My words crashed together,

Eli chuckled. “Say that again. I didn’t catch
the enthusiasm.”

“Asshole.”

“Last time I checked, I had one of those,
too.”

I snorted, not so delicately.

The line grew quiet, and then, “You doing
okay?” he asked “No more cutting?”

“Not much,” I answered, my heart clenching.
“The desire to is still there, and I’ve made one new mark. Mostly,
I’m okay.”

I’d been knitting a lot after I got off the
phone with Eli at night, the activity keeping my hands busy. I was
still knitting the sail from my dream, the one I’d had after Eli
and I first met. I didn’t know why I kept working on it. People
didn’t knit sails.

“What about you?” I asked.

He sighed, and it sounded like a roar over
the line. “It’s been weird here. Mom’s behavior has been more
erratic than usual. Jonathan says she walks the halls at night,
murmuring things to herself. Pops called her therapist, but Mom
refuses to speak to her. She’s taking the pills Pops gives her, but
I’ve never seen her actually swallow them.”

I’d never heard Eli babble, so hearing him do
it now, meant he was disturbed by the things his mother was
doing.

“She started screaming the other night. It
scared the shit out of all of us, but when we got to her room, she
waved it off. Said it was a nightmare. I think Jonathan is ready to
go home. Back to DC.”

“And you?”

“I don’t know. Despite all of that, I like
being here. I like the work. Being near you.”

Something about his words made me think about
the summer, about how fast the end of it was approaching.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I whispered.

Silence.

“I’m going to be in a fight. Not this weekend
but next. Against some guy named Duncan. It’s an amateur match for
charity. You should come.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

We ended the call, each of us lost in our
thoughts.

Friday

Deena ran.

I drove my car next to her, the driver’s side
window down, music blaring. It was sprinkling outside, rain misting
over her head.

“You’re pathetic,” Deena panted, throwing a
look at the car.

Sipping the coffee I had in my free hand, I
smiled. “At least I’m dry.” Eyes widening dramatically, I yelled,
“Run, Deena! There’s a werewolf behind you, fangs dripping. If you
don’t pick up your feet, you’re going to spend the next full moon
in your room howling.”

“Is he cute?” Deena shouted.

“What?”

“The werewolf?”

I blinked. “You’re hopeless.”

A car honked behind me, and I stuck my head
out the window, scowling. “Go around! My sister is training for
greatness!”

Deena laughed, stumbling. It was a good thing
she was almost done with her run.

Intermittent rain made it hard to do much at
the orchard, so I took the paperwork I still needed to fill out for
school. Sitting on the front porch of the main house, I filled out
forms, setting them down whenever the rain stopped, and then coming
back to them when it started again.

Rain: forms. Not raining: garden.

Sometime after lunch, I gave up, drove to
town, and stopped at the small coffee shop. Taking a corner table,
I drank a caramel macchiato and stared at the rain, anticipating
the date I had with Eli the next day.

That night when the phone rang, the only
thing Eli said was, “Tomorrow. 9 a.m. Pick me up?”

“That early?” I asked.

“I’m making it an all-day thing.”

For the first time in a long time, I didn’t
dream once I fell asleep, Snow’s snout in my side, the knitted sail
splayed over me.

Eli

Standing at the living room window, I watched
Tansy’s Buick crawl down the orchard drive. She stopped twice,
lifted her hands from the steering wheel, checked herself in the
mirror, and then inched forward again.

She was nervous, and I wasn’t giving her the
chance to back out.

Stepping onto the porch, I slid my hands into
my blue jeans pockets, felt for the wallet, cigarettes, and pack of
gum I’d slipped into them, and met the Buick in the yard.

Tansy’s gaze found mine through the car
window, her eyes dropping to the untucked, button-up shirt and
brand name jeans I wore.

Pushing the door open, she stepped out.

I inhaled sharply. She was a vision in a
floral sundress, the chiffon overlay kissing her knees, and my gaze
lingered there, lust and pride warring with softer emotions.

She glanced at the cottage. “That was too
fast to be casual. You were watching for me.”

The wind blew, and the dress flirted with her
thighs.

“I’m not giving you the chance to run away,”
I told her.

“You thought I’d run?”

“I think if given the chance we both would.”
My eyes fell to her feet, to a pair of strappy, high-heeled
sandals.

She shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, the
movement and the heels drawing attention to her legs. “I put a pair
of flats in the car just in case.”

My gaze traveled slowly up her frame, eating
her up inch by inch. By the time I made it to her face she was
blushing furiously.

“This is different for me.” She glanced down
at the outfit. “Well, kind of. This is an older dress, and—”

“You look like a fallen angel who tempts men
to sin, and then makes them feel good about being wicked.”

Her lips parted, her wide eyes locking with
mine.

“You’re beautiful all of the time. Covered in
soil, naked, or sunburnt. This is icing, roof girl,” he nodded at
the dress, “but, rest assured, I’ve always preferred the cake.”

A surprised laugh escaped her. “That had to
be the most ridiculous, yet sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Stepping past her, I touched the car door
she’d left open and flashed a grin. “It’s all about breaking the
ice. Obviously, I’m open-minded. After all, I’m letting my date
drive.”

Tansy sputtered, biting her lip to keep her
laugh contained.

I wanted to nibble on that lip. Taste her. Be
near her.

The first time we had sex, I’d been a
distraction. She may never admit it, but I’d been aware of her need
to get lost the moment my hand slammed the door shut, my body
trapping hers against the wood.

Wanting her had been easy. Letting her get
lost in me had been earth-shattering. Because, in the end, she’d
stayed with me mentally rather than using the sex to forget other
things. It surprised her. Hell, it surprised me.

We were going into this date with no
distractions. Just me and her, and by the end of the day, we were
either going to want each other or walk away.

Ducking into the car, she peered up at me.
“Okay, roof boy, show me what you’ve got.”

I circled the car and climbed in next to her.
“Let’s drive.”

We spent the first fifteen minutes in
silence, with me pointing at turns she needed to take.

Once we hit the interstate, taking an exit
that lead to a small town an hour and a half away, I leaned back.
“It’s mostly a straight shot from here.”

Tansy threw glances at the passing road
signs. “We’re not going to Atlanta?”

I bit back a smile. “You wanted to go to
Atlanta?”

“No.” She looked at me askance. “I guess I
assumed that’s where’d you take me. Distance and entertainment
reasons.” She glanced at the passing trees.

“It’s too obvious,” I said, smirking.
“Besides, no crowds today. No distractions, remember?”

“Did you do one of those quirky places to
visit searches? Because I really don’t have any interest in seeing
a giant peanut.”

“There’s a giant peanut in Georgia?” I asked,
feigning surprise. “Then I guess you’ve heard of the world’s
largest mattress in Jefferson. It’s about the size of seventy-two
king-size mattresses.”

She snorted. “Whatever.” When I didn’t
comment, she glanced at me. “You’re serious?” Her lips formed an O,
a look of suspicion on her face. “Are we going there?”

“You can jump on it. Only you have to wear
socks.”

Amusement transformed her, making her glow.
“You’ve jumped on it before, haven’t you?”