by Diann Hunt
“I miss her so much,” she said.
“Yeah, I know.”
Silence hovered between them, each lost in thought, sipping their drinks, remembering their days with Ivy.
“Do you think she sees us?” Carly asked.
“I don’t know. But I do think she’d be happy that I’m working with you,” Scott said. “You were the sister she always wanted.”
Carly smiled. “Same here. C. J. is a good brother, but a sister would have been nice.”
“How do you know when it’s time to move on?” he asked, startling Carly.
“Move on?”
“You know, get on with our lives. Stop living in the past, all that.”
“So you are thinking of dating again?”
He stared into his cup. “I don’t know.”
Of course he was. He was a man. He couldn’t be alone forever. “Scott, you’re entitled to be happy again.”
“Like I said, I don’t need a woman to be happy, but still, I’m just thinking.”
Carly took another drink from her cup. “So, who is she?”
He looked surprised. Then his eyes twinkled. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
It was obvious he was not going to tell her yet. That was okay. He was also entitled to his secret.
Still, it seemed strange for both of them to be dating all of a sudden. Though she was happy for Scott, a bit of sadness tugged at her heart too. She was afraid they would lose their special friendship. When other people came into the mix, things just were never the same, and that would be hard.
He downed the rest of his coffee. “Well, it’s getting late. Time for me to go home. Thanks for the dinner and movie. It was fun. The movie was anyway. Dinner? Not so much.”
They laughed together, and she walked downstairs with him. “See you tomorrow.”
He looked at her for a couple of long seconds, as though he wanted to say something else. “’Night, Carly,” he said before disappearing into the dark.
Closing the door behind her, she checked the locks, then went back upstairs to clear the coffee cups from the living room. Noticing the brochure tucked beneath her saucer, she picked it up. Luckily, it had gone unnoticed tonight.
Her fingers ran along the brochure with information on reconstructive surgery following breast cancer. She should have done it long ago. But Gary had fixed things. Let the insurance lapse and not told her. Then left her paying the cancer bill out of pocket on her own. She’d had a little money saved. And now, with each disbursement check, she hoped to gain more so that someday she could get the surgery—if it wasn’t too late.
With a sigh, she headed toward the kitchen, deposited the cups, then went upstairs to bed.
The covers were hot when she slipped into bed, so she pulled everything off but the sheet. It lay flat against her left side, emphasizing her scar. When Gary had left, she hadn’t cared about that in the least, but now it made her sick to see it. There it was, the truth of it: she couldn’t stand the sight of her own body. She was flat where she should have been curvy, and fluffy where she should have been flat. No matter how many manicures, pedicures, and facials she had, she felt ugly to the bone.
Her eyes glanced to the dresser where her wig fit on a frame. Why didn’t she get rid of it? So what if it cost a lot of money; it was a constant reminder of those days. She had never let anyone see her without hair. No one. She couldn’t stomach it herself. She’d wrapped a scarf around her head in the mornings, made sure it was intact before she got out of bed. She caught occasional glimpses, but tried to block them from her mind.
Unfortunately, try as she might, the images stayed with her. They were burned in her mind.
No hair.
No breast.
No husband.
Pinkie sauntered up to Carly and licked her arm.
“Hey, baby.” Carly picked her up and nuzzled her face into the soft fur. This dog was her lifeline. When Scott and Ivy had brought Pinkie over, Carly was at her lowest point in life. Gary had walked out; she was sicker than—well, a dog; and she’d needed some company. They knew she had always wanted a teacup terrier and that Gary had refused to allow her one. He’d said they were sissy dogs, and besides, the upkeep on a pet was too much. She’d thought the distraction of caring for Pinkie would help her not to dwell on her own problems.
Turns out she was right.
When the dog finally settled down at the foot of the bed, Carly hardly noticed anymore the sheet that lay flat over the left side of her chest.
Hardly noticed at all.
three
Dressed in her robe and fluffy Garfield slippers, Carly opened the front door with a yawn.
“Come on, let’s go.” Scott wore sweats, a headband, and a smile. Though he was a little blurry, Carly thought he was doing calisthenics.
Her jaw dropped. Through eyes barely cracked open, she saw the sun creeping up the side of town. Either that or she had died and it was the light coming for her.
“Go where?”
He ran in place. “You said you wanted me to help you. Get your sweats on. We’re going to jog.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
The sound effects to Psycho screamed in her head. “It’s six o’clock in the morning.”
“Get dressed. I promised to help you, and I always keep my promises.”
His jogging was getting on her nerves. And so were the robins twittering some stupid birdsong in a nearby tree. “I don’t suppose it would help to say I’ve changed my mind?”
“Nope. Get your sweats on.”
“Of all the friends I could have and I get Richard Simmons.”
“You’ll thank me one day. Get dressed.”
Scott wasn’t exactly Jack LaLanne but he was definitely the outdoors type—right down to flannel shirts on a chilly October night. Carly could see no way out of this one.
After she dressed (no easy feat at this time of the morning), she came back down the stairs. “We need to go out a side entrance so no one will see me,” she said when she reached Scott.
“We don’t open till nine o’clock. No one would be here this early.”
“People arrive at garage sales an hour early.”
“This isn’t the same. Besides, people sleep in on Saturdays. But we’ll go out the side door if that makes you feel better.”
They stepped into the spring morning. Carly took a deep breath and pulled in the sweet scent of a nearby honeysuckle vine that looped its way along a white wooden fence. With the way Scott’s adrenaline was pumping, she figured it would be the only breath she’d get in the next hour.
Five minutes later she knew she was right. “Good grief, Scott, what are you trying to do, kill me?” she gasped.
“Oh, too fast? Sorry. I’ve been at this for a few weeks, so I’m building up some stamina,” he said all studly-like.
“You’re the dude,” Carly said, completely void of emotion.
“You’ll thank me.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
He sucked in a dramatic deep breath as though he was leading a fitness class. “Isn’t this great? Crisp, clean morning air, health, vitality.”
Carly glanced around for a hidden TV crew but saw only trees and houses. “Coffee, Scott. Does that mean nothing to you?” Her lips vibrated with every word, reminding her of Fat Albert.
“You’ll get some—sans the whipped cream—after you’ve earned it.”
More Psycho sound effects. “I’m not giving up my whipped cream,” she growled.
“Yes, you are. You don’t need it. Whoever heard of having whipped cream on top of regular coffee?”
“Me. And just so you know, my coffee isn’t regular. I add creamer and cocoa.”
Okay, that was just a stupid thing to say.
“Not anymore.”
“Look, Scott, I appreciate what you’re doing,” Carly said, lying through her teeth. “But the truth of the matter is you don’t have to be this diligent. Help me, yes. Kill me, no.”
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“No pain, no gain,” Mr. Positive said.
Carly wanted to thwack him at the knees. She decided to keep quiet instead for fear her temper would explode into a full-fledged heart attack right there on the spot. She couldn’t do that to Scott, not when he was trying to help her. She would just have to come up with a better way of not hurting his feelings and toning him down—so to speak.
She lugged her hefty self after Scott and gave him a sideways glance. “You’re really serious about getting into shape, aren’t you?”
“Yep,” he said, eyes focused forward. “I haven’t felt this good in a long time.”
“She must be something for you to work so hard.”
“Who?”
“That’s what I’d like to know.”
“I’m doing it for me,” he said.
“Whatever.”
“You can scoff if you want, but it’s about taking care of myself and feeling good.”
Carly’s airflow was down to a wheeze. “Well, right now that ‘feeling good’ thing isn’t happening for me.”
“Oh, you can do it. I know you can.”
Was he turning into some kind of life coach or what? She shook her head and muttered, “People getting organized, taking care of their bodies, all that. What’s this world coming to?”
Scott laughed and tugged on her arm. “Come on, let’s step it up a notch.” He kicked up dust behind him and she watched without an ounce of motivation to catch up. She had grown accustomed to her steady heartbeat, and she didn’t want to mess with a good thing.
By the time she returned to her house and climbed the stairs, she had one breath left. With a final push, she fell onto the sofa and sprawled out like a bearskin rug.
“What happened to you?” Dressed in a sky-blue sundress with a huge yellow sunflower on the front and a tilted straw hat with a droopy sunflower waving on top, Magnolia stepped into the room. Carly sympathized with the droopy sunflower.
“I went jogging with Scott this morning.”
“I’m glad to see you taking care of yourself,” Magnolia said, adjusting her crooked hat.
Most everyone knew of her previous battle with cancer, and no doubt worried about her, though Carly was thankful it was rarely mentioned. “Well, don’t get excited. There are no plans for a workout video anytime soon.”
“Still, you’re making improvements.” She plumped a pillow on the sofa and her hat slid sideways again. “One good choice at a time, that’s all it takes.”
Carly figured Magnolia to be a healthy eater most of the time, but she suspected her stepmother to be a closet dessert eater. She had spied the woman eating a piece of pie in the church utility room once. But who was she to cast stones?
“I’m headed out to buy some more petunias this morning, for around the large maple in back. One can never have too many flowers.”
If Magnolia wasn’t wearing flowers, she was growing them.
“Thanks,” Carly said, meaning it. Gardening was not her forte. First of all, she didn’t like bugs. Second, her fingernails were ugly enough without putting dirt under them. And then there was that little matter of having to get up from the sofa.
Magnolia nodded. “The movers will be here later this afternoon. I have everything packed at home.” A cloud shadowed her face. “Goodness, I do hope they’ll be careful with my furniture.”
“I’m sure they will be. They have lots of experience with moving things.”
Magnolia lifted her chin. “Thank you for letting me stay. I’m sure I won’t be too much of an imposition.” Magnolia said that as though she were spending the night instead of living with Carly for infinity. That thought alone made Carly’s palms itch.
“No problem.”
“I’ll do my share around the house too. After working all day, you can come upstairs to a home-cooked meal. That will be my job from here on out. I’ll help you eat healthy too.” Her eyes sparkled as though she’d just gifted Carly with a lifetime membership to Jenny Craig.
Every nerve in Carly’s body sprang to attention. What about all those late-night snacks? The cupcakes? The potato chips? She would not, absolutely would not, eat rice cakes.
She was losing her kitchen, her solitude, her life. If she wasn’t so tired, she’d muster up a good tear or two.
“Well, I’d better get going.” As though she hadn’t a care in the world, Magnolia stumbled away.
Once she was down the stairs and out the door, Carly crawled to her room and clicked on the computer. While it booted up, she went into the kitchen and made her coffee—with whipped cream. She also grabbed a couple of pistachios. She normally would have grabbed a handful of candy, so she was making progress.
Baby steps, but still.
Coffee and pistachios in hand—not a great combination, but you did what you had to do—she arrived back at her computer in time to pull up her e-mail. Sure enough, there was one from Marine Man.
Good morning. We’ve spent the last few days packing. Katelyn’s dragging her heels, but then what sixteen-year-old wouldn’t? It’s hard to make her leave here. But as I told you, her friends are not a great influence. She’s a good kid, though. I have no doubt she’ll adjust quickly.
Can’t wait to get this job over. I keep your picture by my computer so I can look at it when I write to you. Continuing to count the days. Love J
Looked as though Carly would be needing Richard Simmons’s help after all.
Scott heard Carly’s footsteps approaching. He had hoped she wouldn’t be down for a while, but one glance at the clock told him it had been awhile. It was nearly lunchtime. He always lost track of the hours when he was working. How many times had Ivy gotten mad at him for that very thing? He sighed and put his desk in order. At this rate, it would take him years to sort through the accounting mess stretched out before him. He could only imagine the state of Carly’s personal checkbook.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I work here, remember?”
“You don’t work on Saturdays.”
“No, but I wanted to finish up a couple of things I was working on yesterday, and I told Magnolia I’d be around when the movers got here.”
Carly shuddered.
“You okay?”
“My muscles are twitching because you overworked them this morning.”
“They’ll get used to it.”
“It’s sweet of you to help Magnolia even though she gives you the cold shoulder, Scott.”
He scratched his jaw. “She’s just hurting over Ivy. She’ll come around some day.”
Carly nodded. She flipped through her appointment book and looked up. “One of the therapists is giving a cocoa-butter massage right now and that’s the last appointment today. So we can close shop early.”
Just then the grinding sound of heavy brakes echoed outside the front of the house. Carly peeked through the window blinds. “It’s the moving truck.”
Scott joined her at the window. They watched as Magnolia pulled her car into the drive.
“That’s our cue.” Carly plunked the blinds back into place and headed toward the front door with Scott close behind.
When they stepped into view of the truck, Scott whistled. Carly’s skin turned a pasty shade of white.
“Where does she think she can put all that stuff?” Her voice was two octaves higher than normal.
Scott put his hand on her arm. “Now, don’t panic.”
“Panic? Who said I was going to panic?” She was on the verge of a shriek.
“Your eyes are about to spill out of their sockets,” he said, pointing.
“They do that when I’m going for a panoramic view. And let me just say I’m struggling to get it all in here.”
“We’ll figure something out.”
“Let’s go talk to Magnolia.”
Carly and Scott approached her. Judging by the look on her face and the frown on Carly’s, Scott figured Magnolia could be showing her teeth for the last time.
“W
hat are you doing? We have no place for all that stuff.” Carly took a threatening step toward Magnolia, and Scott quickly sandwiched himself between them.
“Carly, you might want to talk to the movers about where you want the things to go.” Scott gave her his you-need-time-to-calm-down look.
She blew out a sigh that could rearrange furniture and walked away.
Concern flashed in Magnolia’s eyes. “Maybe I should store more of this furniture. But I really need these things with me.”
Scott tried to come at things from a different angle. “I’m not sure how easy Carly will be to live with,” Scott said, causing Magnolia to blink with surprise.
“Why do you say that?” She eyed him with distrust.
“Well, you’ve seen the way she eats. Sugar, processed food, snacks.” With Magnolia’s bent toward healthy foods, Scott figured that would send her running.
Instead her smile returned tenfold. “Thank you, Scott. I had reservations about doing this, but now I can see it’s the right thing to do. She needs me to get her on the right track with her health.” Satisfied, she headed for the movers.
Scott looked around to make sure Carly hadn’t heard any of that conversation. Spotting her a fair distance away, he walked over to her as she mournfully watched the movers unload chunks of furniture and boxes of who-knew-what and carry them into her home.
“Now I ask you, does this look like someone with few earthly goods? She could sell this stuff on eBay and fund a good life for herself that might even include a trip to Tahiti and back. A couple of times. Shoot, she could buy Tahiti.” There was an unusual bitterness in Carly’s voice. Scott sidestepped an inch or so away from her.
“Since Magnolia has movers, I’m going back inside to finish up my work,” he said. He could be putting Magnolia’s life at risk, but he had work to do. They’d have to hash it out.
Scott stretched in his chair and rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure how long he had worked, but his aching muscles told him it had been awhile. How one woman could get her books in such a mess was beyond him.
Heaving himself out of his chair, he walked over to the coffeepot and poured another cup of stale brew. After taking a sip, he made a face. Bitter enough to grow hair on his chest, but it would have to do. Tomato juice wouldn’t cut it this time.