Mini Miracles
Page 6
She rolled her eyes at him. Some secret! “I’m pretty sure everyone in the tri-county area remembers. Who could forget some random guy driving straight into the school flagpole his first time out behind the wheel?”
“Hey! That wasn’t some random guy. That was me!” He grabbed the lapels of his white lab coat and stood taller.
Abigail couldn’t help but smirk at his ill-founded pride. “I’m not sure owning it makes the whole thing any better.”
“Well, I assure you I’m a much better driver now.” He rooted in his pocket and pulled out a giant cluster of keys adorned with a pink fuzzy puff of a keychain.
She studied him for a moment before bursting out into her first whole laugh in what felt like ages. “As much confidence as all this inspires, I’d still rather not take any chances,” she said when at last she had sobered enough to manage words.
“Have it your way.” Gavin sighed and shoved his keys back into his pocket. “But if you’re driving, I’m treating.”
“If you insist,” Abigail said as they wove through the parking lot and toward her old, beat-up sedan. She’d need to find something much safer before her baby arrived.
“Unbelievable,” Gavin said, staring at her as if she’d sprouted a second head. “Is this the same car you had in high school?”
“Well, yes and no,” she admitted, turning the key in the door because she hadn’t bothered to replace the batteries in the automatic opener yet.
“It either is or it isn’t. How can it be both?”
“Nice to know you live in a world without gray areas,” she said, shooting a playful wink his way before sinking down into the driver’s seat. It really did feel like old times with Gavin at her side, as if all the years since high school had melted away—all the problems, pain, and hurt.
“My car in high school was a ’96 Saturn SL2,” she explained after Gavin had joined her inside. “This is a ’00.”
“So you basically bought the same ancient car a second time?”
“Well, not exactly the same, but I couldn’t find any ‘96s,” she explained.
“But why?” he demanded. “This car is like twenty years old now. That’s practically as old as we are!”
She shrugged, feeling scrutinized by his direct gaze. “Cars aren’t super important to me. My first one always served me well, so when it was time to replace it I figured, why not get another just like it?”
Gavin stared slack-jawed at her, saying nothing.
“I guess maybe I’m a little bit sentimental,” she admitted.
His eyes widened and his head jutted forward. “A little bit?”
“Okay, a lot. But so what? There are more important things in life than cars.” She jabbed her key in the ignition and brought the engine to life, if for no other reason than to show Gavin that—yes—this dusty old car was reliable and—yes—it got her around just fine.
“You haven’t changed at all,” he said, appraising her with mirth in his eyes. “It’s one of the things I always liked about you.”
She turned away from him, wondering if it was too late to get out of this lunch. “What? How could you possibly say that? You only just found out about the car.”
“Yeah, but not that you hang on to things that are important to you. Remember your room in high school? It had pink walls and unicorn decals. You still had all this white furniture with crystal knobs. It was the same set you—”
“Had in grade school,” she finished for him. “I know.” She risked a glance his way, unable to hide the embarrassed smile that burned its way onto her face. “It’s still the same even now, you know.”
“I figured it might be. The room you’re sleeping in now with the puppies, though. It’s not the same one you had back then.”
“No,” she said, looking over her shoulder before backing out of the parking spot at last.
“Why not? If you’re so nostalgic, why keep your old room the same but not use it when you came back home?”
“My new room has my bedroom set from back at the base. With my husband.” She set her mouth in a firm line, hoping he wouldn’t ask any more questions for a while.
Gavin sank back in his chair and rubbed his hands on his pant legs. “You’re a complex woman, Abigail Elliott.”
“Abigail Elliott-Sutton,” she corrected.
“It’s like your two bedrooms, huh? You’re hanging on to both.”
She frowned. Why should she have to explain herself? So what if she cherished things a little more than was normal? Not everyone lost their husbands in their mid-twenties or their mothers in early grade school. She had to hang onto what mattered, because in some cases it was all she had left. But how could you explain that to someone who had never known loss?
“Relax,” Gavin said, startling her as he placed a hand on her arm. The car swerved toward the curb in response. “I don’t mean to give you a hard time. I like that things matter to you. It makes me think that maybe I mattered, too. Maybe I still matter.” He paused before adding, “As a friend.”
It was only then that Abigail realized he was absolutely right. Reviving her friendship with Gavin was the perfect way to rediscover who she’d been and bring back that happier, kinder person for her son.
She owed it to her baby, and she owed it to herself. Besides, it seemed Gavin was a little sentimental, too. He brought up the past even more than she did. “You do matter,” she told him. “And I’m glad we’re friends again.”
Chapter 17
Abigail
Abigail followed Gavin’s directions as he navigated them through Charleston’s Historic District straight to a locally famous restaurant called Poogan’s Porch. If you were to ask her father, he’d claim that Poogan’s was not quite as locally famous as their church’s yearly nativity scene, but then again, he’d say the same thing about the Carolina Panthers as well.
“This doesn’t seem like a quick lunch to me,” she scolded her impromptu lunch date while eyeing the quaint yellow restaurant and its not so quaint double-decker box porch.
“I was in the mood for some Lowcountry cooking,” he said, holding the door open for her so she could pass inside. “Besides, they get folks in and out quickly at lunch time. We’ll be just fine.”
Gavin pulled out a chair for Abigail, then pulled his keys from his pocket before taking a seat of his own. “We’ll have two sweet teas and two orders of shrimp and grits,” he told the hostess with a smile.
“Ordering for me, are you?” Abigail teased. Lucky for him, she liked just about everything. She also hadn’t had shrimp and grits for a very long time, and everyone knew Poogan’s Porch served them up best.
“Why order anything else when this one dish is perfection?” he asked with a sly smile. “I’m sure the others are perfectly delicious in their own right, but it doesn’t seem I’ll ever find out. As soon as I walk in that door, I know exactly what I want.”
“And that’s the shrimp and grits, huh?” She could think of far worse food addictions—far worse addictions, period. These days it felt almost as if she’d grown addicted to grief and solitude. Shrimp and grits would have been a much better choice.
“Precisely,” he said, bringing her ribbing session to a close.
“Okay, so I have to ask. What’s with the giant pink thing on your keys?” Abigail said, gesturing toward the giant heap of metal and fluff that sat beside his water glass.
“What, this old thing?” he asked with a laugh, picking up the bunch and handing it over to her. “A very special little lady gave me this pink poof and I haven’t had the heart to take it off my keys, no matter how emasculating it might be.”
Half a dozen questions raced through Abigail’s mind. What child was so important to Gavin that he kept that silly thing proudly on display? Was he a father? A proud uncle? What wasn’t he telling her, and would it be too nosy if she asked outright?
“You haven’t told me much about you,” she hedged. “Other than that you’re a professional pain remover.”
“But you had a lot to say about your job.”
“My job is my life these days. That and my Puss.”
Abigail choked on her water. “Excuse me?”
He laughed at her expression of horror. “Puss in Boots, my cat. He’s why I was at the pet store the other day. Why we found each other again.”
She rapped her fingers on the table, resisting the urge to take another sip of water in case Gavin said something equally shocking once more. “You must know that’s not a great name for a cat.”
“Why not?” he chortled as his blue eyes danced with mischief. He clearly enjoyed making her squirm. “It was good enough for Antonio Banderas, it’s good enough for me.”
“Um.” Abigail leaned back as the waitress poured their drinks from a sweating pitcher of tea.
“Oh, c’mon. You know Shrek! The movie with the big green guy? Besides, it was fun to get a shock out of you,” he teased. “Normally, I just call my cat ‘Boots.’ He’s mostly brown tabby, but he’s got these little white socks on his feet that are quite distinctive.”
“So why not name him Socks?” she asked flatly, praying her cheeks hadn’t turned as red as the lobster being served up two tables over.
He shook his head. “Nah, everyone names cats like him Socks. I had to be at least a little different.”
“Gavin Holbrook,” Abigail drawled, “I’d say you’re a lot different.”
“And I’d say that’s quite the compliment.” He raised his freshly filled sweet tea glass and clinked it to the edge of Abigail’s. She decided not to mention that it hadn’t been meant as a compliment. Weird or not, Gavin was all himself and she admired that—wished she could be more like it herself.
“So you like root canals and cats. What else?” she prompted, looking back toward the spot where his keys and that giant pink pom-pom had rested only minutes before.
“Well, you already know I like you. That makes three things,” Gavin answered between sips of his tea.
Abigail frowned. She’d already told him everything worth knowing about her these days, and he still kept the better part of himself hidden. It didn’t seem like a very good basis for rekindling their friendship. “Three things isn’t a lot to go by when getting to know a person,” she offered peaceably.
“But you already know me.”
“Maybe, but that doesn’t change the fact you’re hiding something.”
His smile faltered. “I’m not hiding. I just like to focus on the positive. Especially when you already have so much to be sad about without me heaping on.”
“Gavin,” she whispered. “What is it? You can tell me.”
He ran both hands through his sandy blond hair before taking a deep breath and nodding. “I’ll tell you, but I don’t want to focus on it. I want this lunch to be about old friends reconnecting. Believe me, I spend enough time wallowing when I’m on my own.”
She gulped, hating that she had brought his pain to the surface like this. She wouldn’t have even guessed a single thing was wrong if not for his sudden change of demeanor. “You don’t have to if—”
Gavin cleared his throat and set his glass back on the table, failing to make eye contact as he spoke. “No, I should. I need to get used to talking about it, and you’ve been so forthcoming with me. It’s just…”
He snapped his line of vision back up to meet hers, and Abigail saw an intensity in his eyes she’d never seen before—not in all the times she’d spent mooning over those eyes in school and not in their time spent together as adults, either.
He regarded her silently before finally revealing, “As it turns out, you aren’t the only one who’s lost someone important to you.”
Chapter 18
Abigail
Abigail folded her hands in her lap and waited for Gavin to say more.
He closed his eyes and smiled as if picturing the most beautiful scene he could imagine behind his eyelids. “Her name was Millie—the little girl who gave me that keychain—and she was three years old at the time. She wasn’t my daughter, but it sure felt like it. First I fell in love with her mother and then with Millie herself the moment we were introduced. Her mother, Susie, and I were set to be married that spring with little Millie serving as both the maid of honor and the flower girl. I couldn’t have been happier if I tried.”
He opened his eyes again and frowned at Abigail so deeply it made her heart ache for him, for the man he’d once been. “But then around about this time two years ago, Millie’s father came back into the picture. And what could I say to save myself? He hadn’t been the best to either of them, but he said he was a changed man, that he wanted the three of them to be a family.”
“Oh gosh, Gavin, I’m so, so sorry.” She hated when people apologized for things that weren’t their fault, but what else could she say? Just like her, Gavin had loved and lost. Big time.
He smiled weakly before continuing. “Susie spent days weighing over the decision. Maybe even weeks. But in the end she decided that Millie needed her father and it would be best for all of us if I were to break off contact completely.”
Abigail shook her head, unable to believe Gavin had gone from almost married with a family to depressingly single within the blink of an eye. “So that was it?” she asked gently. “You never saw them again?”
“They moved to a new state, wouldn’t even tell me where, and I moved back to Charleston, opened my practice, and threw myself into work like there was nothing else that mattered. Because, really, there wasn’t.”
“I can’t say I blame you.” Abigail wished she had the determination to keep working hard in the wake of her loss, but unlike Gavin, she’d lost the will to fight for herself.
“One day they were my whole world, and the next they were strangers. It was quite the shock to the system. It still hurts fresh as yesterday if I let it.” He offered her a wistful smile. Even though no tears fell, Abigail couldn’t help but wonder if they were ready and waiting. Or had Gavin simply reached the point where no more tears would come?
“That’s why you reached out to me,” she stated.
He nodded softly. “I needed a friend, too.”
Abigail leaned across the table and clasped his hand. Was it worse that Susie chose to leave Gavin? That she intentionally cut him from her life, leading to not only loss but betrayal as well? Their situations weren’t the same, but they certainly felt familiar to one another. Gavin had lost two people that meant everything to him, the poor guy.
“I’m happy to be your friend, but I don’t know what to say to make it better,” she admitted, finally understanding why people resorted to the same old platitudes over and over again. It felt better to say something cliché than to say nothing at all.
He sighed and gave her had a squeeze before letting go. “That’s the thing: words can’t make it better. Only moving on does.”
“Have you?” Abigail wanted to know. “Moved on?”
Gavin wrapped both hands around his half empty glass of tea. “I honestly don’t know.”
“Are you ready to?” She was pushing him now. She knew that, but somehow it felt as if curing Gavin would cure her as well, that it would prove recovery was at least possible. The problem was she had no idea what moving on past grief would even look like. Maybe there wasn’t truly any way to ever really move on. Maybe you just buried your sadness underneath heaps of happier memories and prayed like heck that your pile wouldn’t topple over.
Gavin shook his head—whether to say no or that he wasn’t sure, Abigail couldn’t figure out. Perhaps it didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.
“It sounds like you need a root canal,” she said with a sly smile as she watched the waitress approach their table.
He laughed, the light returning to his eyes. “You’re probably right about that. Root canals do make everything better. For now, thoug
h, I’ll start with these.” Gavin picked up his spoon and dipped it into his fresh bowl of shrimp and grits the moment the waitress set it in front of him.
“Thank you,” Abigail said as she accepted her lunch as well.
They each savored their food in silence for a few moments before Gavin set his spoon down, wiped his mouth, and said, “It does help, you know. Throwing yourself into a project. My work keeps me sane, if not fully happy.”
“I’ve been out of work for a while,” she admitted. “It’s hard to be creative without having that fire. I’m a graphic designer, by the way. In case I hadn’t mentioned.” She chose not to reveal her worry that her creative passion had been permanently doused, that it had left this world right alongside Owen.
“Doesn’t need to be work,” he answered between bites. “That’s just what I chose. What about the puppies?”
The puppies. She’d only been away from them for a couple hours, but it seemed so much had happened since she left the house that morning. “I’m trying to find their owner but haven’t had much luck yet. I also need to take them to the vet with my father this evening.”
“I think they’re your project,” Gavin said with a genuine smile as he regarded her. “Haven’t you felt better since your dad brought them home for you to look after?”
“A little,” she said, pushing a particularly juicy shrimp around her bowl. “I like the dogs, but I don’t want to get attached to them. You know how it is.”
“I do. But I also know if you never let anyone in, then you can find yourself two years down the road every bit as broken as you are now.”
He was right about that, and he clearly spoke from experience, too. It was easier to help the puppies who were here and needing her now. Little Owen still felt lightyears away. The puppies would be practically full grown by the time he was even born. Could they not only give her a head start on her parenting skills, but also help her heal on a deeper level? If Gavin was right, then yes. They absolutely could.