by Susan Sands
“Done what?”
“Started the gossip train. Now, they’re just going to try harder.”
“Harder than the casserole competition and the fake illness visits to the emergency room?”
“Wow. Now they’re coming in to see you at the hospital? Faking illness? That’s bold, even for Ministry’s single contingent. They must feel pressed for time.”
“I’ll only be here through New Year’s. Maybe that’s why I’m getting the full-court press.” He told Rachel what his nurse, Georgie, had said about that being an extra incentive.
“Sounds like you’re in a pickle,” she snickered.
“It might solve my immediate problem if Mrs. Wiggins told everyone that you and I were dating since she caught us kissing.”
“Who said she won’t spread that around? She is quite the information source.”
“She’s a gossip?” He sounded shocked.
Rachel nodded. “One of the biggest. Though she doesn’t mean any harm, she’s just lonely, and it’s her way of being relevant.”
“Sounds like a perfect non-solution to me. If people think we’re dating, I won’t have to deal with the onslaught.”
“How is it a good idea for me? Maybe I don’t want people thinking I’m dating someone. Might hurt my single reputation.”
“How was single life treating you? I mean, you were eating cheesy chicken with me and watching football last night.”
And having a fantastic time. “Fine. I could take a break from all the guys breaking down my door, I guess.”
“I would be shocked if you didn’t have every guy between here and Birmingham chasing after you.”
She shook her head. “I’m living in Ministry, Alabama, remember? They barely have Internet here. Well, that’s not quite true, but it’s small and well off the beaten path, besides its well-known Christmas festival and Cammie’s cooking show.”
“Anyway, I’ll owe you, big time. And I can call the women who left their phone numbers and cookery, and regretfully break the news that I’m no longer on the market.”
“You dodged a bullet with Angie Davis. She’d have eaten you alive. I’ll have to think about payment.” In the form of sexual favors, perhaps.
“Did you watch the Saints game?”
“Of course I did, and my Who Dats kicked butt. The Falcons don’t start until eight-thirty, so I’m about to turn on the game I recorded last night. You’re welcome to watch if you’d like. I’ll be editing photos on my laptop, but I like having a game on in the background.”
“That would be great. I’m either going to buy a bigger TV while I’m here, or make a quick trip to Atlanta and bring mine back for the next six weeks. We’re in the middle of the season. I can’t watch it on that tiny screen next door.”
“I get it. I like my big screen—no explanation needed.” Now that Rachel had extended the invitation, she would have to wear a bra while doing her editing. But having her sexy new fake boyfriend watching football with her would be better than sitting here alone and braless, she supposed.
“We could practice our fake-couple kissing,” he suggested, and then grinned at her.
She shot him an eye-roll. “Nope.”
“Okay, but it was a really hot kiss, you have to admit.”
“Nope; not admitting to anything.” She shook her head, and refused to make eye contact with him as she searched the menu on the screen for the recorded game.
“I’m going next door to get a beer. Want one?” he asked.
“Yes, please.”
Rachel found the recording and pressed “play.” She wasn’t entirely sure why she’d agreed to be Nick’s fictitious girlfriend. It sounded like a hokey idea, this playing pretend, but the fission of excitement that went through her at his suggestion was undeniable. Maybe she was playing with fire; maybe they both were. But it was only for a few weeks. What harm could come of it? They were both full-grown adults.
Nick’s phone buzzed in his pocket the minute he’d closed the door of his apartment. It was his mother. Great. He didn’t really have anything new to report, but if he avoided her, she would get her feelings hurt.
“Hey, Mom.”
“How’s it going in Alabama?” she asked.
“I’m fine. How’s Dad?”
“Oh, your father’s right as rain, like always. It’s me you should be concerned with,” she said, cryptically.
“Are you having a problem, Mom?”
“Not right now, but I could be, so you should always inquire.”
He rolled his eyes, though there was no one to see. Typical Mom. “Glad to know you’re well.”
“I called to ask if you were still planning to come to the Falcons/Saints game Thursday?”
Nick grimaced. He’d nearly forgotten about it, even though he’d been looking forward to it when he’d bought the tickets initially. “I doubt it, Mom. I haven’t spoken to anyone about covering my shift at the hospital.”
“Well, I was really looking forward to seeing you, and so was your father.” She did sound legitimately disappointed.
“I know. I’m sorry. If there’s any way I can still make it, I will. I’ll let you know as soon as I find out.” He grabbed a couple longneck Buds from the fridge.
“Monica’s been asking about you.”
That stopped him cold. “How’s Monica?”
“She’s as lovely as ever, of course. But she misses you, Son. You should give her a call. You owe her that much, don’t you think?”
“I don’t think my relationship with Monica is your concern. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Mom, but Monica and I are no longer in a relationship.”
“I know you were upset with her for some of the things she did, but now that you’ve taken some time away, I hope you’ll come to your senses and realize how perfect she is for you.”
Nick sighed. “Mom, this is not something you should get in the middle of, though obviously, that’s what you’re doing. Did you tell her I was supposed to come home for the game?”
“Well, I might have mentioned it.”
“I want you to tell her I’m doing well. But I’m not making plans to see her if I come home for the game, so you should probably let her know to keep her distance either way. It’s only going to be harder for you both if you hold out hope that she and I plan to get back together, because we’re not.”
“What an awful thing to say, Nicholas. The two of you were together for a long time. It couldn’t have been time wasted.”
“I don’t consider it wasted time. The relationship just didn’t work out in the end. People decide to go their separate ways for lots of reasons.”
“A relationship is an investment of time and emotion, Nick. You shouldn’t have wasted so many of her child-bearing years if you didn’t plan to put a ring on it. That was poorly done of you.”
“So, I should have just stuck with her because we spent a few years together even though I didn’t love her the way people who build lives together should?”
“Yes. You’ve got your head in the clouds if you think that kind of love can sustain anyone for a lifetime.”
He nearly laughed out loud, but settled for a choking sound, because he was unable to stop it from bursting forth.
“What was that about? That sound? I guess this is about your father and me?”
“I don’t know Mom. Clearly you’ve got thoughts on the matter.”
“I love your father. Not like I did when we met; it never panned out to be the great hearts and flowers kind of thing I see on the movies, but we got pregnant right away with you, so we did what was proper. And we built a life and family together. That’s what people did back then. These days, young people say they just aren’t feeling it and split up no matter how it affects their children or their reputations.”
“And so you stayed together and were miserable all these years to save face, and taught us that it’s better being miserable and together so long as you put up a good façade for the neighbors?” The beers
in his hand were dripping onto the floor.
His mother sighed into the phone. “Divorce is rarely a good solution, especially for women, you know. Or, maybe you don’t.”
“Well, I would never do Monica the indignity of marrying her knowing I didn’t love her enough.”
“I think you have an over-inflated idea of what love is. Your expectations are going to let you down. Best to find someone you can live peacefully with, and who can give you beautiful children.”
“Surely you wish more for Chuck and me.” Nick was shocked at his own mother’s lack of hope for a better life for her children and their future happiness. “I mean, we don’t have to end up like you and Dad. In fact, I really hope we don’t.”
“What’s wrong with us?” She seemed shocked that he would suggest there was a problem there.
“Are you kidding? You just admitted you settled, big time, because you were pregnant and didn’t want to embarrass your family or upend your status. That sounds like the biggest case of throwing in the towel I’ve ever heard.”
“No, it’s staying strong. But he does drink too much and goes out of his way to do everything on the earth to annoy me.”
“Could be that he is trying to get your attention.”
“Ha. He’s been trying to get me to leave him all these years. But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.”
The reasoning behind her alternating statements baffled Nick. Who was she trying to argue with? Herself or him?
“Well, Mom, I’m going next door to watch the football game with my pretty neighbor. Here’s hoping I have a nice evening, despite our conversation.”
“You’re doing what? You just broke up with Monica. She believes the two of you are going to reconcile.” Mom was getting shrill again.
“No, she doesn’t. I haven’t spoken with her in months, and I made it clear we’re over.” He paused a moment and lightened his tone to a less harsh one. “So, I’ll let you know about the game as soon as I know. Love you, Mom.” He hung up then.
Nick took a couple cleansing breaths. Why did he continue to engage with his mother like that? She could get to him like no one else. His parents were a hot mess, and had been as long as he could remember.
Nick replaced the sweating, less-cold beers with new ones and headed out the door. He’d taken so long trying to pacify his mother and her neuroses, he hoped Rachel hadn’t locked the door.
Nick opened her door and noticed the game was on, so he stepped inside, but didn’t see Rachel at first. He took another couple steps and peered over the back of the sofa. She was slumped on her side, her laptop having slid onto the cushion beside her, the screen in sleep mode.
She appeared uncomfortable, but who was he to wake her while she slept? He placed her beer in the refrigerator. He should have left then—he should. But it wasn’t late, and the game was on. It was likely she would wake up soon and wonder where he was, right?
So, he slipped off his shoes and eased his feet onto the battered coffee table. It was a repurposed wood rebuild—cool to be sure, and indestructible. He appreciated that her tastes ran toward such décor. His mother preferred the priceless items that were so tastefully and artfully placed, that a quick turn in any direction in her home might mean the destruction of something so valuable it would send her into a tizzy of epic proportions.
Mom’s tizzies were something Nick gratefully left behind when he departed for college years ago, except for the occasional ones when he got caught in the snare of her drama before he realized what was happening. They were unforeseen, and sprang suddenly from Mom’s normal whiny remarks into a full-blown shit-storm of passive-aggressive commotion, like tonight.
A cold beer and a football game in the presence of a nice, pretty girl did a lot to soothe his nerves. Even if she was a sleeping beauty. Just watching her sleep gave Nick peace. He had an in-sync sensation when Rachel was nearby. So, like a weirdo, he sat in her apartment and watched the football game, and occasionally, watched her sleep.
Rachel woke with a start. Nick was there, and he was staring at her. “What the—?”
“You fell asleep.”
She swiped the drool from her mouth. Aw, dang. “You’ve been watching me sleep? That’s pretty creepy.” Her eyelids felt like the 40-grit sandpaper she used to refinish her nightstand were grinding on them when she blinked.
“You’re beautiful. You know that, don’t you?” Nick grinned at her.
There was warmth in his hazel eyes that made her feel things in places throughout her body that hadn’t had attention in a long time. Places that tended to tingle lately only in his presence. “What?” She blinked another scratchy blink. “I just wiped drool off my face.”
“Rachel, I’m proud to call you my girlfriend, you know.” He sounded like a fifteen-year-old boy.
She sat up, setting her laptop on the sofa beside her. He was on the cushion in the center where the sectional made the turn.
“Fake girlfriend, you mean.” She laughed awkwardly, because well, this was not exactly a comfortable conversation.
“Semantics.” He waved that minor detail away with his hand as if it were a trivial thing. “We can go out and enjoy our time together. It will be fun to play pretend with you.”
“You know this really is an odd thing we’re doing, right?” She just wanted to make certain he understood.
He nodded. “Yep. Very strange. But I’m still looking forward to it. You know this isn’t the kind of thing I normally do either. I’m not usually so impulsive. I’m a pretty serious guy in general.”
“Um, okay.” She looked over at the TV as the Falcons scored a touchdown, and the sideline judge called a penalty, which then caused Nick’s attention to immediately shift to the game.
“No way! He totally crossed the plane before his knee was down.”
They both watch the replay that clearly showed the player stretch his arm, football in hand to cross the plane of the goal line before the player’s knee hit the turf, which meant the touchdown was legit. Nick whooped loudly and stuck his hand up toward Rachel for a high-five validation of his excitement to share the joy. She reluctantly complied.
“Fine. It was a touchdown. Barely,” she conceded. The Falcons were her least favorite team in the league.
“That was big of you,” he said and laughed.
“Not a fan, as you know.”
“Aw, c’mon. You can find some joy to share with me. Plus, you’re closer to Atlanta here in Ministry than New Orleans. You should adapt, right?”
“We’re right in the middle, I’d say. And, I don’t see the adaptation happening anytime soon. Sorry.”
“How would you feel about going to the Saints/Falcons game Thursday? I’ve got sweet tickets on the fifty-yard line. Of course, I’ll have to get somebody to cover for me at the hospital, but if we time it just right, we could make it a quick trip.”
“Seriously? That sounds awesome!” She hadn’t meant to react so quickly at the prospect of seeing her Saints play in person, but dang it, it had been a long time since she’d been to a game. The only drawback is they wouldn’t be at the Superdome in NOLA.
“I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to swing it, so I’ll get back to you tomorrow and let you know if it’s doable.”
“Okay. I’ll double-check my schedule. I’ve got some Christmas photos with Santa scheduled, but I can add some additional times to make up for the ones I miss.” She grinned. “Thanks for inviting me. This really does sound like fun. I promise not to rub it in when my boys wring your dirty birds’ necks.” She smiled sweetly.
“On second thought, maybe I should leave you home.”
Chapter Ten
The giant Norway spruce was being delivered to the town square today. Rachel had been asked by the editor of the local newspaper to photograph the delivery and setup process. She’d somehow ended up covering events that made news in the area. She’d soon need to hire an assistant full time if demand for her services continued at this pace. She often
hired a weekend helper for big events, but only when she needed an extra pair of hands to manage. Between the weddings, pageants, school photos, senior portraits, and every other event in Ministry, Rachel’s business was booming.
She’d been working on a website, but hadn’t completed the process yet. Right now, Rachel was working on booking her shoots through The Evangeline House and taking jobs word-of-mouth, and keeping up with everything on her smartphone, which linked directly to her iPad and computer’s calendar. If there was a breakdown in that process, it would be disastrous to her business.
Her dream was to have a studio of her own on Main Street where she could house a real photography business. She would have expensive lighting and equipment so her work would reflect her vision. Right now, she had the bare essentials in equipment. Just enough small, portable lights and filters that she shoved in the back of her small SUV and dragged with her wherever she went. Rachel could only imagine how much the quality of her work would improve if she were able to invest in a home for her business.
She’d imposed a few times for special projects on Sabine’s sister-in-law, Emma’s husband, Matthew, who was a cinematographer, by trade. He was now a director/producer, but had begun his career in high-end photography and video work. He had a studio in their home that made Rachel want to cry in homage. Matthew had been kind enough to allow Rachel to use his space for a few shoots. But she hated to ask unless the situation was dire.
So, as she worked and saved, Rachel made plans for her dream studio. Before long, she would have enough money for the down payment on a storefront with an apartment above. She had her eye on the space if she could persuade the owner to sell.
“Hey Rachel, how tall you think the tree is this year?” Junior asked and rubbed his beard as if it would help him figure out the puzzle. He wore a coon-skin hat, its tail hanging down the back of his head like a mullet. Likely one of his creations in the taxidermy shop.
He and Rachel were standing on the green about thirty feet from where the guys in hardhats were placing the truly giant specimen. It was magnificent. “Hmm, maybe about sixty feet tall? It’s hard to say since it’s not completely upright yet.” She zoomed in on the group of men carefully guiding the trunk into the deep recess, amidst all the branches that obscured their progress. They’d had to use a chainsaw to cut dozens away thus far.