“Pack up your desk, dear. It’s Friday. Why don’t you leave a little early today?” Wilma says as she peeps her head out of her office.
“Thank you. I feel like I need it today. It’s been one of those days; the Kensingtons are killing me with their toing and froing.” Sighing in relief, I begin to pack away all my crap and grab my bag from the drawer.
“They’re killing us all; hence, why you need a bit of a break. Stress isn’t good for that wee baby of yours,” Wilma states as she sends me an apologetic glare. Only Wilma can glare and look apologetic at the same time.
“See you on Monday then. Bye, Ken!” I yell as I walk toward the front of the building. I hear a muffled response as Ken says goodbye. I open the door and head out to the street right when it’s starting to sprinkle. Great. The one time I didn’t bring my umbrella.
Just when I think the skies are going to open, though, it stops. The calm before the storm. I can hear thunder rolling in the distance, preparing us for nature’s finest show. Usually, this is my favorite part of summer. Nothing is better than sitting on my grandma’s old rocking chair on the porch, curled up with my book, a hot cup of coffee and … Zeke.
Some days, I think I’m doing well, only to be smacked upside the head by a memory. Then comes the constant battle of emotion; feelings of want and need are slowly being squashed by those of hurt and anger. Surviving the storm left in his wake is going to by far be the hardest thing that I’ve ever had to do.
Reaching the front of my house, I spot Mrs. Simmons running around on my front lawn like the crazy old lady that she is. But what the hell is she doing? She looks like she’s in her best dress, a bright green and purple smock that falls just below her knees, paired with peep-toe kitten heels. Quite an odd sight, even for her.
“Is everything okay, Mary?” I raise my voice a little. Mrs. Simmons has a bit of trouble hearing, and I doubt she’s wearing her hearing aids.
“What was that, love?” Mary yells at me. I fight the urge to roll my eyes as the volume of her voice confirms my earlier thought. No to the hearing aids then—lovely.
“I was just asking if everything was okay? Why are you running around my yard?”
“Oh, sorry, dear Olive. Just trying to get these pussies inside before the storm hits. Mittens and Snowbell are in your garden, and every time I go to grab one of them, they run the other way. Would you mind helping me?”
I cringe at the word ‘pussies’ leaving her mouth. But there’s no way I could say no. The poor old bird is nearing ninety, and I can never say no to an elderly person in clear distress anyway. My grandma would come back from the dead to kick my cushy ass if she heard me even utter the thought.
“Sure. I’ll go grab some tuna.” I quickly dart up my front steps and unlock my door. I dump my handbag and head straight for the pantry to find the can of tuna I’ve reserved for Mary’s cats. Let’s just say this isn’t the first time this has happened. Once I’m back out in my front yard, I open the tuna, and sure enough, Mittens and Snowball come running toward me. I kneel to set the can on the grass and let the cats take turns nibbling at it. When they finish, I grab the cats one by one and stand to hand them to Mary.
“Why didn’t I think of that? Thank you very much, Olive dear. I appreciate your quick thinking. I don’t know what I would have done if my pussies were caught out in this nasty storm heading our way.” I try to keep from cringing again because Mary is genuinely grateful. She’s sweet even if she’s unbearably nosy. Between her hearing issues and memory, I’m surprised she still lives alone. I check on her every few days if I don’t see or hear anything, just to make sure she’s okay. You normally know she’s doing just fine by her friendly neighborhood watch, though. She may forget to feed herself sometimes and need a reminder, but those seven cats of hers never go without food while under her roof.
“It’s no problem. Don’t worry about it. You should get the cats inside before they run away again,” I say as the cats squirm in protest, trying to escape her clutches.
“Yes, very well. Oh! Please wait here a minute, dear. I have something for you.” I wait as she toddles off across the street with both cats in her arms and her blue-rinsed perm bouncing as she goes.
When she returns, she has a small package in her hands. As she approaches, she unbundles the package and presents it to me. Two little yellow knitted booties.
Oh.
“I know I’m probably not supposed to know, but I couldn’t help myself when Herbie told me the news,” she says animatedly.
“It’s okay. I know what the gossip mill is like around here, so I knew it wouldn’t stay a secret for long.” I sigh. “These are absolutely beautiful. Thank you for making them. I appreciate it more than you know,” I say, genuinely thankful. They’re adorable.
“Oh, I didn’t make them, dear. They came from that baby boutique downtown. These old fingers don’t work like they used to.” She laughs at herself. Jesus Christ, I sometimes wonder if she says this shit on purpose to mess with you.
I clear my throat a little. “Well, thank you for picking them up for me. I’m gonna go inside now before this storm hits. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I start backing up.
“Before you go, and forgive me if I’m overstepping, but what that boy of yours has done is absolutely appalling. If any of my Normans did something like that, I’d have put them across my knee, no matter how old they are. Just know, we’re here for you, and if he ever comes by again and you want me to put him over my knee, I’m just a holler away. Buh-bye now, dear.” She toddles off with a wave.
I snort, laughing lightly at her words, and thank her again, unsure if she hears me or not. As she crosses the street again, she waves to someone on her left with a big cheesy grin on her face and continues walking.
Wouldn’t it be nice if it were as simple as putting Zeke over an old lady’s knee and smacking some sense into him? One can dream.
Turning on my heel, I tuck the booties into one of the pockets of my dress then waltz into my front yard to pick up the now empty can of tuna. As I bend down to pick it up, the heavens decide to let loose, and it begins to pour. Taking the empty can and tossing it into the trashcan at the side of the house, I walk carefully, so I don’t slip on the paved path leading back to my porch steps. Stopping at the bottom step, I raise my chin and slowly tilt my head back with closed eyes to allow the rain to land on my face. No longer just droplets, the sensation of the harsh, steady fall makes me feel more alive than I have in months. Raising my hand, I wipe my hair from my forehead and shove it back into my top knot. I curse under my breath as I wipe my fingers under my eyes to check for mascara that I stupidly forgot I was wearing.
BOOM.
“Shit!” I screech as a loud clap of thunder roars, sounding as though it was right on my tail. Panting heavily and clutching my chest after my near-death experience, I try to steady my heart rate. Okay, maybe I’m overexaggerating a tad, but shit, that scared the hell out of me. Realizing that I’m still standing in the pouring rain, looking like a goober, I make my way up the stairs and onto my porch. I wring out the bottom of my dress and watch as the water hits the wooden deck like a mini waterfall. Letting my dress fall freely again, I peer down at myself and attempt to smooth the crinkles I’ve just created. It’s pretty much a lost cause.
“Hey, Olive,” a deep voice says from somewhere behind me, jarring me out of my crinkly dress pity party. I raise my lids and stare to make sure what I’m seeing is correct. Where the hell did he appear from?
“Uhh, hi, Seb. What brings you to my neck of the woods?”
He rubs the back of his head. “I was actually just on my way home from work and stopped by to check on Mr. Donaldson a few doors down; you know, one of those episodes again. I guess I saw you standing here and thought I would come over and say hi.” He laughs nervously under his breath. “So, ah, hi.” He waves awkwardly. I smile at him and can’t help but take in his work uniform. Slim, dark gray trousers teamed with black steel-capped boots. A once crisp, white collared shirt with lapel badges on the shoulders. A shirt now drenched. Shit, I peel my eyes away.
“Crap, sorry. Come up here under the awning.” God, I’m a bitch. I shake my head, disappointed in myself for letting him stand out in the rain while I ogled him. He bounds up the three steps, his long legs clearing them in a second.
“Thanks. Didn’t want to seem like I was intruding.” One side of his mouth gently lifts to form a smirk. I notice then that he has a dimple. Just the one from what I can tell, which makes him even more endearing.
“No way. I was just about to make a cup of tea to warm myself up because it looks like the rain is here to stay for a while. You’re welcome to join me if you’d like, or not … completely up to you,” I stammer as I rub my hands together. My eyes go directly to his chest, his white shirt all but see-through. I can see the dark swirls of tattoos on his arms and shoulders through the wet fabric. I accidentally let out a flustered laugh at my shamelessness.
“I’ll give you an answer when you tell me what’s so funny,” he says as he raises an eyebrow.
Busted.
“Ugh, embarrassing. I was just thinking if there was a wet t-shirt competition in town right now, you’d probably win. You’re completely soaked.” Averting my eyes, I mentally kick myself. Millie would have a field day if she knew about my verbal diarrhea right now. I have severe foot in mouth syndrome at the best of times, but I swear this pregnancy has screwed with my brain-to-mouth filtering system.
“Win? Huh.” He huffs as if deep in thought. “I think I will have that drink. But coffee if you have it, please. Just black, no sugar. After dealing with the hypochondriac that is Mr. Donaldson, I could definitely use one.” His eyes close briefly, an amused smile tugging at his lips, and he shakes his head.
I laugh and nod in agreement. “Definitely. I’ll be back in a minute. Take a seat.” I point at the set of old rockers on my porch and head inside.
They belonged to my grandma and grandpa. They used to sit on the dilapidated chairs each morning while reading the paper. It was their favorite time of day. They always used to tell me, “A sunrise missed is a day wasted,” and let’s just say … I’m not a morning person, so pretty much every day of my life has been a waste in their eyes.
After my mother had committed suicide when I was just six years old, my grandparents took me under their wings in an instant. I had always been a constant in their lives because my mother would dump me on them anytime she could. But I always preferred their company to my mother’s. Any memories of her that I have aren’t all that fond. My sperm donor was never in the picture, and I can’t be sure my mother even knew who he was. So it wasn’t like there was any other real option for me. It was a choice between my grandparents or foster care, and we all know what can happen when a child is thrown into the system. But I was fortunate enough not to have to go through that grueling process.
Standing in my kitchen, I pull Seb’s coffee from under my Keurig. Lifting it to my nose, I breathe deeply to savor the smell. God, I miss it. Grabbing my tea, I head for the front door and push it open gently with my foot. I stick my butt out to catch it, so that I don’t spill any liquid from our mugs, and glance over at where Seb’s sitting in my favorite seat, Grandma’s seat. Quite a sight, really. One I have no qualms about appreciating once again.
Look but don’t touch and all that.
He’s kind of sprawled out, relaxed with his legs spread wide. Not leaving much to the imagination when it comes to that fantastic looking torso wrapped in wet fabric. He’s also looking in the opposite direction, waving enthusiastically with a massive grin on his face. What the …? I drag my gaze there, and sure enough, Mary freaking Simmons is peeping through her curtains.
Perfect. As if I’m not already the talk of the town with everyone starting to find out about the pregnancy, the fact that I’m entertaining anyone other than my baby daddy must pay well in the local sweeps. Rolling my eyes, I push away the negative thought and focus on my company.
“Here we go,” I say as I place our drinks on the little wooden side table between the two rocking chairs. Seb utters his thanks and lifts his mug to his nose, breathing in deeply and savoring the smell, just as I did. I move to sit in Grandpa’s chair, plonking myself down and letting out a loud sigh. The rhythmic percussion of the rain on the tin awning is soothing. I’m staring out at the rain and lost in my own head when Seb breaks the silence.
“I can see why you’d rather sit out here than inside. The rain falling on the awning is extremely relaxing,” he says nonchalantly.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” I mention while turning my head toward him. Eyeing him with a little skepticism, I ask what’s been bugging me. “So what brought you to Ivy Falls?”
He places his mug between both palms and leans forward slightly. “Well, I’d been working in Graysfield for around four years, and after growing up there, I guess I needed to see what else is out there. This was also one of the only places available to transfer to at the time. I knew Beau lived around here, who I met while he was on a site job at the hospital in my old town, so I guess it was a done deal,” he says, raising his mug to take another sip of his coffee.
I purposely ignore the comment about Beau. “Is Graysfield a small town too?”
“Uh, not really. Nowhere near as small as Ivy Falls. I kind of like that about being here, though.” He raises his voice over the almost deafening rain.
“That it’s small?” I ask in bewilderment.
He shrugs, moving his body forward to place his elbows on his knees. “Yeah, the people here may be kind of well, different from what I was used to, but it’s starting to feel like home.”
I laugh. “You’ll be wanting to kick some small-town ass pretty soon, let me tell you. Good luck trying to keep anything private.”
“All the more fun, huh? Do you ever mess with the old folk and tell them things that are completely crazy and false?” A devilish grin lights up his face.
“Whoa, steady there, solitaire extraordinaire.” I laugh. “But yes, when we were kids, we used to. It was more trouble than it was worth, though. It would always get back to my grandma, and geez”—I shake my head with a smile—“she could give a mean verbal lashing.”
He chuckles. “I guess you haven’t forgotten about the solitaire, huh?”
I grin and shake my head. “Nope.”
The rain is starting to ease again, allowing us to lower our voices. The thunder and lightning have passed for now, but I’m sure it won’t be long until it’s back. We never do just get one bout of rain; it usually hangs around for a while. “You do realize Mrs. Simmons has been watching out her window the whole time we’ve been out here, don’t you?” He laughs and rubs his face with his free hand.
I shrug. “Yeah. She’s just looking out for me, I guess. I’m actually surprised she hasn’t needed a toilet break yet.” I laugh.
So does he before tipping the mug back to polish off his coffee.
“On that note, I’d better get going. Let poor Mrs. Simmons relieve her bladder. Thanks for the coffee,” he says with a smile as he places his mug on the table. Standing, he strides toward the edge of the porch and turns his head. “At least it’s not pouring down anymore. See you ‘round, Olive.” He waves, and then he’s walking down my front steps.
“Catch ya ‘round, Seb,” I raise my voice so he can hear me.
“Hope so.” He walks through my yard and disappears down the street in the rain.