Chapter Twelve
Olivia
I didn't know what to do about the Eric situation. I knew that he was still upset about his wife's death; that much was obvious. But we'd shared a night of passion like I'd never experienced before. This wasn't Hollywood, and I knew that where feelings were involved, things could happen. I had never gone home with someone after a first date before, and I had never experienced feelings like this. Heck, I'd started the evening unsure if it really was a date or not.
Once he'd admitted that I was the first person he'd slept with since his former wife, I'd known that we were delving into a whole set of baggage. I'd expected there might be weirdness afterward. But I guess I hadn't expected him to just avoid me like that. We were both adults, for crying out loud; surely we could deal reasonably with whatever the situation was. Just talk about things.
And to keep Emma away from me as well, I don't know. That just seemed excessive. When he'd called on Thursday morning to say that she would be staying with her Nana for the day, I'd been surprised, but I'd taken it in stride. When he hadn't shown up on Friday as well, I started to get worried. What if he regretted what we'd done? What if I never saw him again, outside of a professional setting where he was Dr. Jones, and my mother was his patient?
Maybe Emma really was sick. But there was no conviction there.
The truth of the matter was, Eric was coming across a little wishy-washy. Maybe I was just blowing things out of proportion, but I had to wonder if he’d even consider accepting my invitation to have him as a plus-one. I probably shouldn't have asked about it in the first place, but I did want him to be there, both to keep me company and because I could only imagine how sexy he would look in a suit and tie.
That said, we'd only been on one official date. Playing the plus-one card now was a risk. A lot could change in a month. For all I knew, he'd decide that he still wasn't ready for something serious, after losing his previous wife. Or else, I might decide that I couldn't live in Tamlin any longer and wanted to move back to Chicago. Or anything in between.
I sighed and shook my head. I needed a distraction, or I was going to sit here all afternoon worrying myself sick over what he might say. For all I knew, he wouldn't get back to me until tomorrow, anyway. I'd given him until the end of the weekend, after all.
I decided to head over to Mom's house and see what she was up to. The weather was nice that day, and I had a feeling she was probably outside in the garden. Not that there was much left to do. We'd plucked most of the weeds the last time I was over there. Still, I could do with a little sunshine, and I was sure she could as well. That had always been one of her main complaints when we'd lived in the city: hanging out on the roof to enjoy the sun just wasn't the same as hanging out in your backyard.
When I got to Mom's house, though, it wasn't her that I found out in the garden. Instead, there was a young man there, about my age, with a friendly face. He was large and built, and he was currently hacking away at a blackberry bramble, his muscles bulging with every movement of the saw.
He looked over at me as my shadow fell at his feet.
“Hi,” I said hesitantly as I stepped forward, holding out a hand. “I'm Olivia Sable. My mom lives here?”
“Olivia, I was wondering when I'd have the pleasure of meeting you,” the man said smoothly, shaking my hand in a warm, calloused grip. “I'm Buck. Well, Barclay. Barclay Johanssen. But no one calls me that!”
“Buck,” I said, rolling the name around in my mouth. “Nice to meet you.”
“Pleasure's all mine,” Buck said in a charming, twangy drawl. He gestured toward the brambles. “I come by and do some yard work for your mom, from time to time.”
“Oh!” I said. “That makes sense.” I struggled to find something else to say. Fortunately, Mom came down off the porch just then, a pitcher of lemonade in one hand and glasses in the other.
“Figured you could use some refreshment,” she said to Buck. “Olivia, it's good to see you too!”
“Hey, Mom,” I said, smiling at her.
Mom held up the pitcher. “I grabbed a glass for you too, sweetie, when I saw you coming up the drive. I'm sure we all could use a drink on a day like today!”
“It sure is humid,” Buck agreed, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Summer is definitely on its way!”
“Mm, I'm excited for a good summer,” I said, looking toward the sky as though the clouds might signal when the summer would begin. “In Chicago, it always gets so stuffy during the summer. But out here, it's beautiful.”
“Sure is,” Mom agreed. She turned to Buck and handed him a glass of lemonade. “Do you have any plans for the summer, Buck?”
“We have a family reunion coming up in August,” Buck said, frowning. “I'll have to head down to Texas for that. But otherwise, I'm hoping to just get up to the lake a couple of times. Go camping, maybe.”
“Sounds fun,” Mom said. “What about you, Olivia?”
I shook my head. “Not up to much,” I said. “Just running the daycare, the usual.” I grinned. “I'd like to go camping at some point too; it's been ages since I did that.”
“Well, if you're ever interested, I could take you some time,” Buck offered politely. “I know all the best spots in the area if you even just want to talk about it.”
I smiled at him. “I appreciate that,” I told him. “We'll see what the summer holds.”
Mom smiled between the two of us.
“I'm going to try to get this bramble out before it gets too hot,” Buck told us, finishing his drink and gesturing toward the saw. “But thanks for the lemonade, Mrs. Sable.”
“How many times do I have to ask you to call me Jeannie?” Mom said, smiling broadly. She grabbed our glasses and started back inside the house, and I trailed after her.
In the kitchen, I leaned against the counter, watching as she started washing the glasses and the couple other dishes that had been used that day.
“Have you talked to Dr. Jones at all?” I finally asked. I didn't want to spoil her good mood. I had to wonder if asking her about the chemo when she was in such a good mood might do the trick. Maybe she'd be more open to what I had to say.
I knew it didn't work that way, but it was worth a shot.
Mom groaned and shook her head. “Is that what you came over here to talk about?” she asked. “To pester me about, rather.”
“I have some money saved up,” I said quietly. “I know it might not cover everything, but it would at least pay for some of your medical treatments. Enough to get you started, while we figure this whole thing out.”
“I can't ask you to do that,” Mom protested. “You've worked hard to save up money over the years. You ought to be putting that money toward a good vacation. Or a wedding, maybe?”
I laughed. “No wedding on the horizon just yet,” I told her. “Or at least, not mine.” I frowned, thinking again about Eric, wondering if he would take me up on that invitation.
Mom sighed. “Is it too much to ask for my only daughter to have a nice wedding soon? I'm looking forward to having grandchildren, you know. Preferably while I'm still able to chase after them.”
I grinned. “I'm working on it,” I said, even though I knew I shouldn't have as soon as the words were out of my mouth.
“You're working on it, are you?” Mom asked shrewdly.
“Eric and I had dinner again the other night, nothing big,” I mumbled.
“I hope you didn't waste all your time talking about me and my health again!” Mom said. Her eyes softened. “You know, I've been feeling fine, Livy. I've started drinking three cups of ginger tea every day, and the pain is nearly gone! Ginger works such miracles on the human body.”
“That's great, Mom, but aren't you worried that you're just putting a bandage on things? Dr. Jones said that things were getting worse. Maybe you should get checked out again, just in case.”
“I'm fine,” Mom repeated.
“But the chemotherapy treatments, you should start them right away,” I said. “That's what Dr. Jones said.”
“Hush, Livy,” Mom said, her voice surprisingly sharp. I flinched, hardly able to remember the last time that she'd talked to me like that. She took a deep breath, and from the way her eyes slipped closed for a moment, I could tell that she was counting to 10. “I don't need to be bossed around by my daughter,” she said when she spoke again.
“I'm not trying to boss you around,” I said, shaking my head. “I just do wish that you'd at least consider listening to Dr. Jones on this one. He had the education and the tests to back up what he's saying. I'm worried about you.”
“I know that,” Mom said. “And like I've said, I appreciate that.” She scrubbed vigorously at a plate and then nodded toward the island in the center of the kitchen. “Would you mind taking that 20 out to Buck as you leave? Thanks.”
I frowned, hating that she was practically asking me to leave already. Was that how it would be between us? I showed that I was worried about her, and she pushed me away? I hated the thought of that. I didn't know how to proceed with her, how to get her to see reason. And now, I had a feeling that the next time I saw Eric, we weren't going to be talking about my mother's health, either. I frowned, wondering if I had burned a very critical bridge by going out with Eric on Wednesday night.
For now, I'd have to accept that that's the way things were. I nodded at Mom. “Have a good day,” I told her, grabbing the money that she'd indicated.
“You too,” Mom said.
I paused by the back door, listening to her whistle one of her favorite songs. If I could only figure out how to get through to her!
I shook my head and headed back into the Illinois heat.