Just His Type (Part Four)

by June, Victoria

  "Yer a good kid, Flick," he said in a gravely tone. "Ya always have been."

  I couldn't stop the tear that rolled down my cheek, nor could I stop the others that followed as I went back to work on the alignment job. And if Matt noticed that I cried he didn't say anything about it to me.

  When I checked on Dad an hour later there were scarlet flags of color on his wan, sunken cheeks.

  "You look tired," I said softly as I leaned in the doorway and wiped my greasy fingers on a rag.

  "I am," he admitted. "Been a long day. For both of us, I 'spect." He motioned to the main room of the garage where Matt was working on his last emission test of the day. "Any improvement on that front, punkin?"

  His concern was touching. I shook my head, knowing my sadness showed on my face. I probably looked as rough as my father did.

  "Ah," Dad sighed as he gave me an encouraging smile. "You two love each other, ye'll figure it out."

  Love. I froze at the word, at the concept. I must have looked askance because Dad laughed.

  "I said it and I ain't gonna 'unsay' it." His bluntness stunned me. "Maybe I ain't been the best father to ya all these years, but I know ya better than ya think, punkin. You ain't the type to sleep with a man ya didn't love."

  Embarrassment rushed to my face at hearing my father mention that Matt and I had slept together.

  "And Tanner's a good man, even if ya don't think so right this second," Dad continued. "I seen the way he looks at ya. With love in his eyes. I know that feelin' Flick, I felt it once a long time ago myself. For your mother."

  His admission drove the air from my lungs. Never in the twenty years since her death had I ever heard my father say anything about my mother.

  "She was a good woman. Better 'n I deserved anyhow. I ain't never known anyone as beautiful as she was, 'cept you. Ya look just like her, but ya act more like me. 'S funny, really."

  I stood wordless and listened to my father remember the woman he would always love.

  "She laughed so damn hard when I bought this place and named it 'Stewart and Sons' when we didn't have no kids yet. Then when you was born a girl she laughed all the harder. Promised me the next baby'd be a boy." He looked up at me then, the hollows beneath his grey eyes were dark and deep. The past twenty years hadn't dimmed his grief. "When she got sick you was so little, and so lost without her. I was too. And then before I could blink she was gone and you 'n I were left together. Without her."

  My father rested his elbows on the desk and buried his hands in his grey hair.

  "I messed up with ya, punkin. Maybe I didn't give ya as much attention as I should. Maybe I spent too much time here when I should’ve been playin' with you. I built this place for you. For your future. Without thinkin' it might not be what ya wanted. I treated ya like a boy instead of the little girl ya was. It was all I knew how to do."

  Tears rolled down my cheeks again while Matt worked away, oblivious to the conversation taking place only feet from him.

  "It's okay Dad," I said with a shaky breath. "Really, it's okay. You did your best and you taught me so much."

  "'Bout cars." Dad chuckled into his hands as he echoed my words from the day before. "Not much about much else. Ya had to figure out how to be a woman on yer own."

  I shrugged. "Luckily I'm like you—tough."

  He raised his head and smiled at me. For the first time in my life I felt a kinship with the man across the desk from me. How could it be that one part of my life was finally improving while the rest had fallen apart?

  "Why don't I take you home? You look like you could use a nap."

  Dad nodded and came slowly to feet. A flicker of fear crossed his weathered face.

  "Don't really wanna be there alone though," he admitted to me. "Too easy to get in trouble."

  "I'll get rid of all the 'trouble' in the house," I promised. "And then maybe we can sit and watch a ballgame or something."

  His face brightened and a few haggard years fell off him. The transformation was amazing.

  "I'd like that. And maybe I can make ya spaghetti and meatballs like I used to. Ya always liked 'em when I made 'em."

  I laughed as the memories of my favorite childhood meal came rushing back. Dad hadn't done the cooking for us since I was eleven or so. Spaghetti and meatballs was the only thing in his repertoire that I remember being actually palatable.

  I took his arm and helped him from the office. We both froze when we caught Matt watching us with thinly veiled surprise. I guess he'd heard our laughter.

  "Dad's had enough for one day," I told Matt as we strode past him. "I'm going to take him home. Do you think you can handle that alternator replacement by yourself?"

  Matt nodded but said nothing.

  "Thank you," I shot over my shoulder in the most cold, polite voice I could muster up. If he wanted to pretend that nothing happened between us, I'd play along. He had promised everything would go back to normal after the wedding. But if he only wanted to see me as his co-worker and nothing more, then I would resign myself to that without causing a scene.

  And ignore the ache in my heart.

  ~~~***~~~

  The rain continued most of the week. Occasionally, the sun peeked out from behind the clouds, only to disappear again minutes later. Dad came to the garage with me each morning and I watched as day by day he improved physically. By Friday he actually felt well enough to come out of the office and hover around the shop, poking his nose into whatever it was Matt or I were fixing.

  I liked having Dad there. It was interesting to watch him take control of the garage again. For the first time in my life he praised me about everything from my bookkeeping to my repair work. And while Matt's continued silence was a constant kick to the gut, I had Dad to balance it out. If it wasn't for him I don't think I could have gotten through the week.

  Saturday was a peaceful start to the weekend. Matt had the day off as per usual and while I heard him moving around upstairs in the apartment he didn't make an appearance in the shop at all. Dad actually picked up a wrench and helped with an oil change. The roll reversal was not lost on me and I watched with bated breath as he struggled with what was usually a simple job. He must have felt the same way about my childish attempts at the job once.

  That was the first day I felt good enough to sing along to the radio. Dad's head shot up when the first notes poured from my mouth.

  "Your mother used to sing to me," he said as he passed me the new oil filter. "Voice like an angel."

  I told him all about singing with Reverend Nate at Lilly and Adam's wedding. Dad lips spread into a wide grin.

  "Good for you," he said with what sounded like pride in his voice. "Nice for you to have somethin' other than yer hands to depend on." His words reached a void that I'd kept guarded for too long

  "I doubt I could make a career of it." I showed him my work-rough hands, never quite free of grease, just like his. "This is my livelihood and I love it. But singing does make me feel better."

  "Not better enough to forget Tanner," Dad said gently.

  "Never that," I whispered.

  Even if I couldn't admit it to my father the truth was that I didn't want to forget what had happened between Matt and me. It had been too wonderful, too beautiful. For one glorious night I'd had everything I ever dreamed of and no matter what Matt thought of it, no matter how coldly he treated me, he could never take that away.

  Dad reached over and patted my hand. The kindness of the physical contact surprised me still. I felt like I had to get to know my father all over again since he'd given up drinking.

  "I know it hurts punkin. Losin' someone ya love always does."

  "Do you think I've lost him?" It was the first time I'd said those words out loud.

  My dad shook his greying head. "No punkin, I don't. He shows up here everyday an' the way he looks at ya... maybe he just can't find the words to tell ya. Maybe ya just need to give him time."

  I had a hard time believing that talkative, jovial Matthew Ta
nner would ever have difficulty finding the words for anything. I sighed. The sound couldn't do justice to my true frustration though. Dad patted my hand again and we got back to work.

  ~~~***~~~

  The phone rang at the garage shortly after lunch on Sunday.

  "Are you coming today?" Violet asked.

  I balanced the phone between my shoulder and cheek and went back to inputting numbers into the calculator before jotting them down in the ledger.

  "I don't think so, Vi."

  I imagined the youngest Tanner pouting on the other end of the line.

  "Come on, Flick, whatever happened, it can't be that bad. You're part of this family now, whether he likes it or not."

  I smiled at her persistence. I liked Vi; I liked all the Tanners, even the one who'd recently broken my heart.

  "What if he doesn't want me there? It's bad enough we have to see each other at work every day."

  Violet snorted. "Who cares what he wants?" It was funny how we danced around mentioning Matt by name. "The rest of us want you here. If you're not at the cottage by three, I'm coming to drag your butt down here."

  I shook my head after I hung up the phone without making any promises. It wasn't as easy as Vi painted it to be. I couldn't just waltz into Rhiannon and Joe's like nothing happened, could I?

  ~~~***~~~

  As it turns out, I could. I'd missed the last few Sundays at the cottage and it wasn't until I got to see everyone at the wedding the week prior that I realized how much I missed them all. Somehow the other Tanners, Adam, Nate, and Adele had become my friends. It hurt too much to think I'd lose them too, just as I'd lost Matt.

  Everyone was already at the cottage when I arrived, except for Lilly and Adam, who were spending another two weeks in France for their honeymoon. I pictured Adam dragging Lilly from restaurant to restaurant, stuffing her full of the best of France's culinary delights.

  Violet, Rhiannon, Nate, Adele and Joe were crowded on one side of the sun porch while Matt and Chuck played cribbage at the table on the other end. Outside the rain still poured relentlessly. It was another dreary autumn day.

  I sank to the daybed beside Joe. He had Sophie in his arms and her cheerful gurgle of hello was the most animated voice in the room. The energy around us felt subdued and I sensed it was because of me. I felt awful for putting them all in an awkward position between Matt and me.

  I did get friendly hellos and smiles from everyone but Matt; he sort of looked right through me. I did my best to hide my hurt by smiling back at everyone. With an encouraging grin, Joe handed me the baby, who proved to be a welcome distraction.

  The muted conversations continued around the porch while I bounced little Sophie on my lap. We were still getting used to each other, but at least she didn't cry anymore when I held her. She tolerated me for a time and when she began to fuss, I passed her back to her father.

  Nate sat at Adele's feet with his head resting against her knee and his guitar in his lap. He strummed softly, almost without meaning to. I recognized several songs, but I couldn't bring myself to sing along. Occasionally Nate let the words slip from his mouth, creating gentle background music to the hushed discussions. Every once and a while I'd look up to find someone smiling at me and while there was a certain underlying discomfort, I did feel better being with my friends.

  I wondered what everyone thought about the situation between Matt and me. They all more than likely guessed what had happened the night of the wedding. Did they view me differently now? Did they still see Matt as the proverbial class clown armed with a joke to crack, a quick smile, and a loud laugh? They couldn't guess there was another side of their brother and friend—the side that was tender and intensely intimate. The side that had made me feel like the most beautiful and desirable woman in the world, if only for one night.

  I half listened to Nate sing while the cribbage game took place across the room. Matt counted aloud in terse, short sentences. From what I could follow, he was winning.

  Nate's fingers strummed over the guitar strings as he sang a song I didn't recognize. The few words I caught about a couple taking their last stroll along the shoreline went straight to my core.

  I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the tale about love coming to an end, but the more Nate sang the more the lyrics got to me. I don't think he did it on purpose; his head was bent so he couldn't see the effect the song had on me. I clutched my trembling hands in my lap and tried not to let any tears surface as Nate sang quietly.

  I couldn't take it another moment. I bolted out the door before I remembered it was still raining. I was soaked to the skin by the time I made it halfway down the beach, but I didn't care. I stood barefoot at the shoreline and took deep, shuddering breaths, trying to calm myself.

  It hurt so much sitting there pretending nothing had happened, that nothing was wrong. It was a lie I couldn't keep telling myself, because something had happened and everything was wrong.

  What had I done when I'd followed everyone's advice and taken what I wanted for so long? Had I ruined the best friendship I'd ever had? Had I forever pushed from my life the one person who always made me laugh? Always made me feel better? I felt like I was just getting to know all the sides of Matt, the secret parts of him he didn't show just anyone. And now it had slipped away from me and I couldn't see how to get it back. As long as Matt pretended that nothing had happened, as long as he avoided talking about our night together, all of the good things between us no longer existed and without them I felt lost.

  I didn't know who I was anymore.

  I wanted to stamp my feet. I wanted to scream. I wanted to do something, anything to make this hurt go away, to bring some life back into my numb heart. The waves pounded the beach, just as furious as the turmoil inside of me. The crashing sound drowned out everything, even the sound of my sobs like none of it mattered, like the way Matt must feel. None of it mattered.

  A strong hand landed on my arm and whirled me around.

  "What are you? Crazy?" Matt yelled over the sound of the pounding surf. "You'll catch your death out here!"

  The rain had plastered his auburn hair to his head, making it look so dark it was almost brown. He was just as soaked as I was, his polo shirt moulded to his chest. I had to swallow hard to force the lump from my throat. He hadn't touched me in a week and the feel of his hand on my bare, rain-chilled arm had awoken my senses.

  I didn't care if I did freeze to death out in the rain; it was a welcome change from the pain of tasting happiness for one night then having it ripped away. Why couldn't he have just said "no" when I asked him to take me home? Why did he have to kiss me? Make love to me? Why couldn't I have stayed invisible to him?

  "What are you doing out here, Felicity?" Matt shouted.

  Felicity.

  I was still Felicity to him. It was appropriate really because the Flick I'd been was gone now. One night with Matt had changed all of that, had changed me.

  "I don't know!"

  Matt just stood there with the rain pouring down over him, and the surf crashing at his feet. His eyes never left my face. Thank goodness for the rain washing down my cheeks because I couldn't let him see me cry.

  Chapter Eight

  "I used to think I knew everything there was to know about you!" Matt said loud enough for me to hear over the rushing winds. "I was wrong." His hands warmed my bare arms while he towered over me.

  "I didn't know you. Not the way I thought I did. You weren't just the girl who rolled her eyes at my jokes, who always looked dwarfed by a pair of coveralls. You weren't just the girl who could fix anything even though you've got the smallest hands I'd ever seen."

  He moved closer to me still. The heat radiated off his broad chest.

  "You work so damn hard and never make a penny. You cry when no one's around because you take care of everyone before yourself. You don't ask for help even when you need it the most. You don't own a dress but you do own a thong." His voice dropped in volume as the distance between us shrank. "Yo
u can sing like an angel and you didn't even know it because you've put so much of yourself into keeping the garage going." Matt cupped my cheek and I nestled into the comfort of his wide, rough palm. "And you have no idea how beautiful you are."

  I looked up at him then. The rain cascaded off his face, dripping down the end of his nose and coursing down his cheeks.

  "I messed up," he confessed into the howling wind. "Being with you opened my eyes to something I never even knew I wanted . . . I freaked out. You're so much more than I ever let myself see. How is that I didn't ever notice? Everyone else noticed, you know. Lilly and Adam, Rhi and Joe, the Rev and Adele—hell, even my parents and Chuck and Vi noticed. They've been giving me hell all week."