Chapter Twenty-three
Spring arrived before we knew it, and Bev’s belly continued to grow. By late May, when pink apple blossoms began to flower in the apple tree in our backyard, we used that for inspiration to decorate the spare bedroom as a nursery, in anticipation of Bev’s July 25 due date.
Meanwhile, Scott and I were maintaining a close friendship. There had been no more awkward moments between us, probably because neither of us felt ready to begin a relationship that would, undoubtedly, be complicated. We were both still emotionally scarred from our separations and preferred to keep things platonic.
I felt blessed to have him as a friend, because he was wonderful about lifting my spirits when I felt low. I did the same for him in return.
He was also incredibly handy around the house and was happy to pop by whenever Bev and I needed help with something—like the toilet that wouldn’t stop running or a problem with the car. He always had the right tools.
In return, Bev and I invited him over for dinner at least once a week, sometimes two or three times. And when Bev worked a night shift, Scott and I occasionally went out for dinner and a movie, or took Leo for long walks in the park. Scott even started coming to my book club meetings with some of the ladies who worked at my school. He was the only man present, and we all enjoyed his perspective on the books we selected.
He was a good friend during that time, and I was grateful that he lived across the street—especially on one night in particular, when he was keeping me company while Bev was at work, and my world was about to turn upside down all over again.
* * *
“Stand up,” Scott said, rising from the sofa and offering his hand. “It’s really easy. Let me show you.”
We had been watching Grease on television, and when the dance competition began with Vince Fontaine strutting around the Rydell High School gymnasium, I casually mentioned that I’d always wanted to learn how to jive.
“Come on,” he said, offering his hand again.
I looked up at him and smiled. “Are you serious? You know how to jive?”
“Yes, and it’s a lot of fun. It’s like a happy pill. You can’t do the jive without smiling.”
“All right.” I stood up, and Scott pushed the coffee table up against the sofa so we had more room, then he turned down the volume on the TV.
“It starts with a basic step.” He faced me and took hold of my right hand, while sliding his other hand around the small of my back. “Watch my feet. It’s like this.”
Leo, who was lying quietly in the foyer, watched with interest as Scott showed me how to rock back onto my right foot, then rock forward, and step from side to side, then repeat the same thing over and over.
“This doesn’t seem too hard,” I replied, catching on quickly.
“You’re a natural.” Scott grinned at me as we continued the basic step.
“Now I’m going to spin you around, and you just keep doing this same basic step with your feet, and rocking back as you come around.” He lifted my hand up over my head and guided me under for the turn, and my feet continued with the basic step while he counted out the beats.
“That was great,” he said. “Let’s try it again. Then we’ll put on some music and do it for real.”
We practiced a few more times, then I went to get my laptop. I set it up on the coffee table and searched YouTube for some music.
“What’s a good song?” I asked.
Scott thought about it for a moment. “Try Crazy Little Thing Called Love by Queen.”
I cued up the song, and soon Scott was leading me through the jive in my living room, and I couldn’t believe I was doing it.
“You’re right,” I said with laughter. “I can’t stop smiling!”
“Me neither. You’re great at this.”
We danced the whole song, then I said, “Can you teach me another move?”
“Sure.” He thought for a moment. “I’m not sure what this one is called. It’s something like a change of hands behind the back, where I turn, and you stay where you are.”
He took me through the move, and soon we were able to combine it with the step he had showed me before. I cued up the music, and we danced around my living room.
I was laughing when I heard a key in the door. Assuming it was Bev, we just kept dancing. But then Leo started to growl.
It was Scott who stopped us, mid-spin.
I saw his expression change from light to dark in an instant, and then I whirled around.
My stomach dropped, because there—standing in my foyer, staring at each of us in turn—was Wes.