AMAZING HEART (Broken Bottles Series Book 4)

by Pamela Taeuffer

  "Is olive oil and red wine vinegar okay for dressing?" I asked, standing with the bottles in my hands when she came back into the room.

  "Sounds perfect."

  I drizzled both on the salad and served it with our sandwiches.

  "Thanks for this; everything I mean. It's all delicious, Nicky. You obviously realize that simple meals are the best."

  "That's good," I laughed. "Simple is all I can do."

  We finished eating, cleaned the dishes and returned to her family room. Two kidney-shaped, dark green sofas surrounded a second fireplace. Photos of friends and family decorated the walls, along with several unique lighting sconces.

  "I have to use your bathroom," I said after we'd talk another few hours. "I'll be right back."

  "Would you mind if we went upstairs and watched a movie in bed?"

  "Go on up and I'll join you in a bit. I'll turn off the lights and set the alarm." I closed and locked the bathroom door and reached in my backpack for my cell phone.

  My heart thumped.

  My battery had died and I'd forgotten my charger.

  In my rush to get to Tara, I realized I'd left it at home.

  Damn it! I can see it lying on my bed. What do I do? It's late and I can't ask her to take me home. Ryan's probably called already. Shit. I'm always doing something wrong with him.

  My body was in misery.

  I knew I wouldn't be able to relax.

  I had to deal with it for Tara's sake.

  She needed to be first and I had to shake this off. I didn't want my problem to become hers, or put my needs before a friend who was suffering.

  "What's wrong?" She immediately noticed something wasn't right when I joined her in her bedroom.

  "My phone died and I forgot the charger."

  "Who do you need to call this time of night?” The inflection in her voice again hinted she knew things she was keeping to herself.

  "I don't know . . . no one, I guess. I feel naked without it, that's all." I opened my backpack and pulled out my nightgown. "What if my sister or parents need to reach me, or—"

  "If you're that worried, I'll drive you home." She turned as if she was going to get dressed. "It's no problem, just let me just throw something on."

  What I wanted was to let her dress. The thing that stopped me—other than it being completely selfish—was that Mom might spill the beans about Ryan to Tara.

  "No," I gave her arm a squeeze. "I want to be here for you. My needs aren't a priority right now. I'll make do. Besides, they have your number. Thanks anyway. You're a great friend."

  What if he calls, what if he calls, what if he calls . . .

  I got into my nightgown and slipped under the blankets with her. Tara's big bedroom dripped with romance. I imagined it a lover's dream, making love surrounded by Michael Amini Chateau Beauvais luxury. Each piece was a hand-carved original, the ornate design an extension of the living room themes. The walls, draperies and bedspread were all compliments of light greens, pinks, soft reds, creams, and lavenders. Completing the room were oversized chairs, a dramatic chandelier, and a large Thomas Kinkaid painting that hung above the headboard.

  "I love your bedroom," I said dreamily. "It's so romantic. Ooh, this comforter. It's so thick and luscious . . . just begs for Matt to make love to you on it."

  "For a young woman concerned with sex, you certainly have an active imagination," she giggled appreciatively.

  "Yeah, well . . ."

  What if he calls, what if he calls, what if he calls . . .

  She started You've Got Mail and was asleep before the movie ended. When I heard her breathing heavily, I checked that her eyes were closed, turned off the TV, the light, and then went to dreamland with her.

  Over breakfast the next morning, Tara told me she'd scheduled us to volunteer at Children's Hospital. We finished a simple breakfast of toast and fruit and headed to her favorite place. I realized as I watched her, this place was a key to her balance. She was at home cradling the children—some with cancer, severe burns, and others with incurable illness or debilitating disabilities. It was joyful to see her tenderness and it made an impact with those she touched, whether it was listening to a story, or a child talk about their feelings, each little person seemed to love the gentle woman spending her day with them.

  The heaviness I had felt all over my body from Ryan dismissing my choices finally lifted.

  Chapter 13

  Tending Gardens

  "Let's have a contest for the prettiest mud pie!"

  We had changed into our grubbies as soon as we got back to Tara's. When I suggested the competition, we were kneeling side-by-side, weeding her garden.

  "You're on!" her eyes sparkled at my proposition.

  We scooped a few handfuls of the rich smelling earth, used her sprinkling can for the right amount of water, and carefully shaped the flat disc into a circle. Pulling the little yellow flowers from milkweed, the fluff from dandelions, and orange petals from a few poppies, we decorated them and declared our contest a tie.

  "I wish we could save them." I had always wished I could preserve these kinds of moments forever. I never believed another that was just as sweet would come along for me.

  "Let me take a picture and we can have the memory." Tara wiped the dirt off her hands and snapped a few photos with her cell phone. "I'm sending them to you now. When your phone charges they'll be there for you."

  "Can't wait." The anxiety was evident in my voice. I'd missed from Ryan terribly and had that "crawling out of my skin feeling," waiting to get home and tell him I loved him.

  "You've got the rest of your summer ticking away," Tara wiped her forehead. It was as if she'd caught the worry in my response. "I really needed to see you last night but I'm okay now. As usual, being with you has made me feel better."

  "I'm surprised you didn't call Alex." I pulled up a bundle of mustard grass and tossed it in the compost pile.

  "She's not my sensitive girl; you are. Alex is my buddy, but when it comes to deep emotions, she has walls of her own. She can close down big time."

  "Her mother, right?" I used a trowel to loosen the soil around some root-bound vegetables.

  "Made her the tough, take-charge woman she is today," Tara nodded appreciatively. "Not unlike most of us when it comes to covering our hurt, I suppose. Look at how smart you are and you had family stuff. Maybe it's a kind of—"

  "Twisted gifts," I said without hesitation. "That's what I've always called them."

  "See what I mean?" She placed her finger on the tip of my nose and then quickly took it away. "With Alex, she's the one I turn to her for hard-nosed objective advice. When I want softness . . . you're my go-to. You know how to listen."

  "Thank you." It was as if a magical feather brushed across my face and another definition of soft had been shared with me. I knew the intimacy of that moment wouldn't come along often. What she'd said made me feel closer to her.

  "Why don't you go ahead and take off, honey. You don't need to waste more of your free time on me." The look on her face was calm and her hopelessness no longer evident.

  What if he calls, what if he calls, what if he calls . . .

  "Time with you is never a waste. Even if I stayed with you the rest of the summer it wouldn't be a sacrifice at all; it would be a privilege. The things you did for the cheer team—the way you took us under your wing and made us feel like we belonged—our stomach butterflies calmed down and our performances were better because of you.

  "Your friendship is like a rose that bloomed in the middle of my desert, Tara. You really don't understand what you've done for me.” I took her hand in mine. “Because of your encouragement, I'm close with my sister again. You're my magnificent love, like my second mom. My mom hasn't been capable of holding me. You've never hesitated."

  "Oh, Nick." She kissed and gave me one of her mom hugs. She continued to dig in her garden in silence. Worry ate its way into our tranquility. "I just wish I could give Matt a child. It's on my mind all
the time. What if it can't happen?"

  "Maybe when you stop trying it'll happen." I thought I'd accidently pulled a flower from a patch of ground cover. "Is this a weed or should I put it back?"

  "Morning glory," she huffed. "I made the mistake of planting some one year and can't get rid of 'em. They take over the whole damn yard. Pull as many as you can."

  It had trumpet shaped flowers almost like petunias and she had them in pink and blue. It suddenly made me feel sentimental something so pretty was destined to be removed from the garden like a common weed.

  "You know, these are just as pretty as some of the flowers you're keeping." I held up the little bouquet I'd collected. "Do you mind if I make an arrangement from them for our dinner tonight? There's a whole group of them, right here."

  "Of course not," she smiled. "You know how lovely it is watching all your little wishes come to life? Sometimes I feel like you're my little girl."

  I knew I'd blushed from her comment. After I'd picked all the flowers I wanted, I went into the kitchen and washed them. I found a large clear bowl, filled it with water and arranged a floating garden of flowers for the dinner table just as Tara came inside.

  "If you can grow weeds this pretty, I think you have miracles coming that you're not even aware of, Tara. You have the power to create."

  "I hope you're right." She put her gloves in the basket by the door. "It's so beautiful outside. Let's freshen up and go for a walk before dinner, okay? We can grab a couple of sandwiches while we're out and bring them back to enjoy with your flowers."

  We showered quickly and then began our walk. Several side streets and little alleys off Union Street had pocket gardens and Tara planned to copy some of them. Tucked away from the casual passerby, they were filled roses, camellias, flowers and herbs. Intent on redesigning her own yard, she jotted down several pages of her ideas and made drawings in a small notebook. When she was ready, we stopped at a little market a few blocks from her house. It had fruits and vegetables displayed in wooden boxes on stands in front of the store. We ordered our sandwiches and purchased nectarines, peaches and two bananas. Dinner seemed extra delicious, paired with our vase of pretty weeds and a warm fire burning in the fireplace.

  Somewhere around ten she fell asleep on the sofa. The peaceful look on her face was so lovely I didn't want to wake her. I put a blanket over her and stretched out on the love seat until I fell asleep, too.

  On the third afternoon I packed my things to go home. Tara's mother was due to arrive in less than an hour. The two of them needed to be alone. I put my backpack over my shoulder and grabbed the bag of tomatoes she'd packed for me.

  "You haven't said anything . . . um, what's up with you and Ryan Tilton?" She'd come out with it so suddenly I was stunned.

  "Oh." I looked away from her. "I wasn't sure if you knew. I was trying to find the right way to tell you that, uh, I'm kind of seeing him." Do I tell her that I'm in love? What will she think of me? "I mean . . ." I tried to refocus my speech. "What do you think of me? Am I a cleat chaser?"

  She cracked up.

  I followed.

  We both went into a laughing fit.

  "No, honey, you're far from that." We'd finally calmed down. "Please reassure me you're using the brain God gave you and you're not being reckless. It's Ryan who took your attention from Jerry, right?"

  I want to be reckless for a change. I'm tired of being careful.

  I glanced at the ground and back to Tara.

  "He must be a good man if you like him." She sounded doubtful.

  "But?" I pushed gently.

  "From what Matt tells me, he can be a handful," she reported like a dutiful girlfriend.

  “Say what's on your mind, Tara." I put down my backpack and the bag of tomatoes.

  "He's been with a lot of women, Nicky. I just . . . I don't know if he's the right one for your first experience. It might be nicer to be with a boy like Ethan Mathers. Matt told me you talked with him the other night. Do you like him?”

  "Not like you mean. We're just friends."

  If I had sex, maybe my friends would stop feeling like they need to protect me. It seems like a mountain on my horizon. I wonder how that would be if I just let go and had it. Would they still feel the same about me?

  "Do you understand what it means to be with him?"

  "I think so." Who am I trying to reassure?

  "You'll be pushed in ways you can't imagine, honey. The level of stress and pressure if you choose to be with Ryan . . . it's tough."

  "I've already experienced some of that. The other night we went out and women were all over him. Wherever we go, people want his autograph . . . my sister showed me this awful girlfriend site that her boyfriend found. A ton of athletes have pages on it. Of course Ryan is on there, and . . . have you seen it?"

  "I hate that shit," she grimaced. It was the first time I'd witnessed real anger well up in her. "Women on those sites . . . God they're rude."

  "Does Matt have one?"

  "Oh, of course. Darrell, too. What nerve, putting something like that up for every groupie in the world to post their lusty desires." She shook her head. "I just hate it."

  Wow! My cool, cool girlfriend is pissed off!

  "Someone posted a photo of Ryan singing to me the other night. The comments . . . they mostly ripped me apart. Other than a few nice posts, most were just awful. When Jenise showed it to me, I felt like, I mean . . . does it ever stop?"

  "No. That's why I'm upset he's dating you," she said bitterly. "The lives of professional athletes are demanding, especially at the stage Ryan is in his career. He’s the premiere closer on the team. Translation? The spotlight. All. The. Time."

  "I get it."

  "I don't think you do. I don't want to see you go through all that fucking social media crap. You're too sensitive for that shit. I'd rather see you in your jeans enjoying Stanford with your friends, free to be whatever and go wherever you want."

  "I've thought a lot about what it means to be with Ryan. You wouldn't believe how many times I told him that he should be with someone his own age; someone used to all the attention—like a model. I know he's dated them and I understand why it makes sense. They're used to the attention, too. He made me promise to stop talking about it, so I gave in."

  "If I were you I'd keep that conversation open," she suggested.

  "I don't get what he sees in me, Tara. After all of my analysis, the bottom line?"

  "You want him," she smiled.

  "Yep. The only boy who ever came close was Jerry. Even that was different. Ryan just . . . he spins me around until I'm dizzy. Most of the time I look at him and shake my head in disbelief. It's like I'm stupefied."

  "You're in deep!" Her face brightened. "He's really got you going?"

  "Going, coming, spinning and somersaulting." I hesitated a minute to consider telling her the whole story. How would she judge me? Without another thought, it all poured out. "I was so worried about the way you and Alex might react." I let out a long sigh. "I appreciate how calm you are. I don't know what I expected, but . . . I've thought it through. I'm giving us a try at least until I go to Stanford—if we last that long and if he can keep from screwing on the road. I don't know how I'd find that out, but . . ."

  "What does your gut tell you? Do you trust him?"

  "He's a good man and I trust that. On the other hand, his popularity, the way he's desired, and the other stuff . . ."

  "What other stuff?"

  "Like how wild he was. You and Alex have told me, but I've seen and heard things at the ballpark. Just the other day when I sat at the dugout, women were dressed in low-cut shirts flashing all the guys. And when we went out the other night, one tried to get a picture with him by sitting in his lap wearing nothing but a bikini top and shorts that showed her ass!"

  "Oh shit, did he let her?" I could see by Tara's expression she assumed he had.

  "No," I puffed proudly.

  "Hmm . . . maybe Alex and I are wrong. At least promise me
you'll take it slow," Tara warned. "Men easily confuse love with sex. They completely commit and they're so sure it's real—until it's not. Another pretty face draws them in and it's too late that they realize it was only lust. You're pretty juicy after all."

  "What?" I cracked up.

  "Oh come on. Don't tell me you haven't a clue about the tasty little morsel you are. Most men would love to sink their um . . . 'teeth' into you." Her eyes danced with mischief. "That's why men will have trouble being friends with you, Nick."

  "Don't women do that, too?" I giggled from her ribald comment.

  "True. I admit it's unfair to lump men together that way. However, in my opinion they mistake sex as love more often than women. Once a vagina becomes a part of the equation, well, they're enamored so easily with our bodies."

  "I think Ryan's is pretty great, though," I clasped my hands in excitement. "I love his chest."

  "It's pretty spectacular," she agreed. "Matt's butt is luscious! I wanted it as soon as I saw him." She motioned with her hands as if tracing his ass in the air. "Do you know Kevin Reynolds?"

  "I met him on my date with Ryan the other night."

  "Matt told me that he overheard Ryan talking to Kevin admitting he's deeply in love with you. Maybe his intentions are honest."

  “How long have you known?” I looked at her bashfully from under my eyelashes.

  “A while,” she grinned. “I hoped you were going to tell me.”

  "No way," I half-heartedly kidded her. "I didn't want to take the chance you'd think bad things about me."

  "I'd never do that, Nick."

  “I've wanted to tell you dozens of times, but when I considered how you and Alex warned me off of him, I didn’t know what to say.”

  "Sounds like you've analyzed everything as much as can be expected by a lovesick little puppy," she eyed me. "I shouldn't be surprised the way you think everything through."

  "Oh, I am sick, Tara." I put my arms around her. "If it lasts with Ryan, I'll need to talk to you often about how you handle it when Matt goes on the road."

  "You and I have a standing date, then." She handed me the bag of tomatoes.