Freefall

by Robin Brande

  “You look very beautiful tonight.”

  Eliza cleared her throat and crossed her arms over her chest. “Thank you.”

  “This hasn’t been so bad, has it?”

  “No,” she admitted, “it hasn’t.”

  He nodded. The soft brown eyes behind his glasses met hers and refused to look away.

  Eliza held his gaze for as long as she could. Then she stared down at her boots.

  “Eliza...”

  She glanced up. In the yellow glow of the parking lot lights, she could see his seductive smile.

  “No,” she answered quietly.

  “Why?”

  “Because you promised.”

  “It was a bad promise,” he said.

  “I trusted you.”

  “You can still trust me.”

  She tried to meet his gaze again, but a cold kind of panic swept through her. She could feel the blood freezing inside her veins. Her body shivered in response.

  “Cold?” He took a step forward and reached out toward her.

  Eliza stepped back.

  This time she forced herself to look at him.

  He waited a moment, then asked, “Are you sure?”

  No.

  “Yes.”

  “Not even one kiss?” he said, smiling in that sleepy way. “Just this once?”

  She didn’t trust her voice. Eliza shook her head.

  Ted shrugged and stepped aside. “I’m a man of my word. Come on, I’ll take you home.”

  When he settled into the driver’s seat, he turned to face her again.

  “There’s one thing I forgot to tell you,” he said. “About Jamey.”

  Eliza’s throat felt tight. “What?”

  Ted started the ignition. “He always got the best girls.”

  8

  Eliza awoke the next morning to renewed signs of spring. The last traces of snow had finally melted, and the daffodils in Hildy’s front yard seemed safe again.

  “Come on, Daisy. Long walk.”

  They stepped out into the bright morning sunlight and headed in the opposite direction of their usual route, past Carolyn Jackson’s house this time, toward the woods at the east end of the street.

  Eliza knew that the fields on top of the hill would be beautiful this morning, but they were too exposed. She felt like she needed to hide.

  She hadn’t slept well. The scene at Hildy’s door hung over her.

  “Good night,” Ted said, and waited.

  Eliza hesitated, then offered him her hand. In a clearly business-like way.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I really enjoyed it.”

  “Me, too,” he said, holding her hand longer than he should have. “Except for this part.”

  “Sorry,” she said, and meant it.

  Ted let go of her hand, nodded once, and turned.

  She watched him walk to his car.

  He’s never calling me again.

  Good. That was the point, wasn’t it?

  Not really sure whether she slept at all, Eliza gave up trying at four in the morning. She wrapped Jamey’s old flannel robe around her and padded into the kitchen to make coffee. Then she curled up on the couch with a sleepy dog and her journal, and poured out all of her fears.

  He’s too good looking. He’s too wild. He’ll expect too much. I can’t do it.

  She paused to sip more coffee and stroke Daisy’s comforting ears. The dog snuggled closer and gave an enthusiastic snore.

  He reminds me of Jamey, Eliza wrote to herself. That can’t be good. But he’s not like Jamey, and that’s not good either.

  Eliza groaned at the contradiction. “Hopeless,” she whispered to the dog.

  Now the two of them walked along the spongy trail of the forest, Daisy manic over the new smells, Eliza still journaling in her head.

  So you can’t date—so what? Emily Dickenson never dated. Jane Austen...might have dated. You need to find something else to do around here. Time to dust off the old novel. Start writing something new—not the book about Jamey, but something completely fictional. Life is easier in Fictionland. You can control everything...

  “Daisy, quit.” Eliza tugged the terrier away from the remains of a squirrel. Daisy lunged forward again and continued to examine the corpse.

  “Stop!” Eliza dragged the dog back onto the trail. “Can’t we just enjoy a nice quiet walk?”

  In the next second she knew the answer was no.

  “Bear!”

  The black Lab came bounding toward them, with David running behind. Eliza tightened her grip on Daisy’s leash just as the terrier launched her attack.

  “Daisy, no!”

  But the Lab wasn’t intimidated. He barked and growled in response, ears up, tail wagging furiously. He dropped his forelegs and stuck his rear into the air, clearly believing the whole thing was play.

  Daisy was deadly serious, as always. She kept up her assault as far as the leash would allow her.

  David caught up with them and grabbed the Lab’s collar. “Bear, sit.”

  The dog did, but only for an instant. Then he was on his feet again, circling Daisy, barking and egging her on.

  Eliza sighed. “Look, she’s crazy. This isn’t going to stop. You should just keep going.”

  Instead David pulled his dog to a spot a few feet away and once again ordered him to sit. Bear did, but his body quivered, obviously ready to break the command and dive back into battle at any moment.

  David had to shout over Daisy’s barking. “You went out with my brother last night.”

  “Great, was that on his website?”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. You should probably go. She’s never going to shut up.”

  Still he stood there. Even though he didn’t seem to have anything else to say.

  “I thought you ran up on the hill,” Eliza tried.

  “Some days. I usually go through the woods once or twice a week.”

  My good luck.

  Remarkably, Daisy was starting to settle down. Now she just yipped in between bouts of trying to catch her breath.

  “Okay,” David told his dog, and the Lab immediately released. He came toward Daisy, but this time the terrier didn’t lunge so much as strain. Soon the dogs were nose to nose, sniffing each other’s faces before moving to parts further down the body.

  “Wow, she’s...okay,” Eliza said.

  “S-sometimes...” David paused and swallowed. “Sometimes you just have to let them get used to each other.”

  “I guess I’ve never gotten that far with her,” Eliza confessed. “She’s such a psycho I just try to get her away.”

  The dogs were now doing a sort of leaping, spinning dance with each other, Bear getting tangled up in Daisy’s leash. But Eliza didn’t dare let go of it. Daisy could go off again at any minute.

  Instead she let the dogs pull her forward down the trail. And David walked with them.

  “So,” Eliza said, feeling that at least one of them should make small talk, “how did you like the opening?”

  “It was fine.”

  “The food?”

  “Good.” David reached down to pick up a stick. He threw it for Bear and Daisy strained to follow. “How’s your wrist?”

  “My wrist?” It took her a moment to remember the kick David had delivered to it the week before. “Oh, it’s fine.” She rotated it to show him. “No permanent damage.”

  He nodded. The Lab trotted back with the stick and David threw it again.

  “How old is B—”

  “Do you cook?” David asked her at the same time.

  “Do I...cook?” Eliza repeated. “You mean the food Hildy brought to the opening? No, that was all her. I can cook, but not like that. I’m more...basic.”

  David nodded. They continued to walk along the path, Daisy relatively calm now, the Lab manically retrieving the stick. After a few minutes of silence Eliza felt like she should say something more, but she didn’t know what.

  Finally David spoke.
“You write.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve...read some of it.”

  Eliza turned to look at him. “You have?”

  David nodded.

  And...? Eliza couldn’t tell from his tone what he thought of it. But she knew it wasn’t polite to ask.

  She decided to switch topics. “Hildy tells me you live in your parents’ old house.”

  “Yes.”

  “Where, exactly?”

  “Over the hill, toward the lake, then down to the left.”

  “By yourself?” she asked, and immediately regretted it. What business was it of hers?

  “Yes. You met my Uncle Herbert last night?”

  Eliza halted. “Seriously, where are you getting all this information?”

  “I talked to Ted this morning.”

  “He’s awfully chatty.”

  “Did you like my uncle’s restaurant?”

  “Yes, very much.”

  “We’re thinking of setting up an area in one of our stores for him.”

  “That sounds like a good idea.” But Eliza couldn’t help wondering, Why are you talking to me?

  “Goodbye,” David said abruptly.

  “Oh, okay. See you.”

  David whistled for Bear and the two resumed their run.

  When they were safely a distance away, Eliza paused and knelt beside her dog. “I don’t understand these people,” she whispered to her confidante. “Can you explain them to me?”

  Daisy licked her hand.

  “I thought so. You’re useless.” Eliza straightened and took in her surroundings. Somehow she had lost the urge to walk the legs off the terrier that morning. She turned and headed back toward Careybrook Lane.

  “Something came for you,” Hildy sang down the stairs as Eliza came through the door.

  “What?”

  “Come see.”

  Hildy beamed as she pointed toward the kitchen.

  Sitting on the counter was a vase overflowing with cheerful-looking white daisies—Eliza’s favorite flower.

  Hildy chuckled. “You think he got those because of Daisy?”

  “I doubt it.” Eliza approached the flowers feeling every bit as nervous as if Ted himself stood there holding them. She read the card.

  “Not bad for a first date. Let’s try again.”

  Eliza bit her lower lip.

  “What’s it say?”

  “You know what it says—you already opened it.”

  “You can’t blame an old woman for being curious.”

  “It’s called nosy. And I like how you’re an old woman only when you think it excuses some bad behavior of yours.”

  Hildy chuckled. “He likes you.”

  “Well, good for him.”

  “Lizzy—”

  Eliza faced her mother-in-law. “I’ve decided not to see him again.”

  “Why? I thought you liked him. He certainly likes you.”

  “I’m not ready.”

  “He’s not proposing—it’s just a date.”

  “I’m not ready,” Eliza repeated. “Just leave it alone.” She passed her mother-in-law and headed down the hall to her bedroom.

  “You’ll never guess who delivered them,” Hildy called after her. “Funny thing.”

  Eliza paused. “Funny how?”

  “You think the florists work on Sunday?” Hildy taunted.

  Eliza retraced her steps and stood before her smug mother-in-law. “All right, out with it.”

  “It was Davey Walsh.”

  “What?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Why would he deliver them?”

  Hildy shrugged. “He said he was passing by.”

  “Jogging, carrying a vase of daisies.”

  “No, in his car—it’s across the street.”

  “Why would he have flowers from Ted?”

  “He said he was at the store this morning—the one in Careyville—when Teddy called in the order. Instead of sending a delivery boy, Davey decided to bring them himself since he was coming right by here.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “That’s what I thought,” Hildy said. “When I saw him at the door holding flowers, I thought for a minute my Lizzy had two suitors.”

  * * *

  Eliza slapped her brain back to attention. She needed to work. She had a new essay due for her newspaper column in a few days, and had no idea what she was going to write.

  She syndicated her newspaper columns herself. She and Jamey had figured out how. Instead of going through a service, Eliza contacted each and every potential newspaper on her own, pitching herself, her background, and the kind of “lifestyle” pieces she would write.

  The list of newspaper clients had grown slowly. First just a handful, then twenty, and now around eighty-five. But to sign up that many, she’d sent queries to hundreds and hundreds more. She’d gotten used to rejection, but it still was never fun.

  A few thousand dollars here, a few thousand there, and over the course of a year Eliza made a reasonable wage from her writing. It had been nice to get the advance from the publisher for the book about Jamey—she hardly ever saw that many zeros all in one check.

  But writing books took a long time, and a sustained effort, and right now the short essays she wrote for newspapers and magazines suited her attention span perfectly. She could write a draft in a few hours, spend another hour or so editing, and be done in the space of a day.

  That was if she had an idea for it to begin with. If not, she sometimes spent hours and days researching, waiting for an idea to spark.

  This was one of those times. Eliza felt completely at a loss for some topic her readers might like.

  She booted up her laptop and sorted through some of her usual sources of inspiration: quotes from philosophers, poets, adventurers. But nothing spoke to her. All she kept hearing was a vague whisper in her ear, telling her to “Run.”

  So that’s what she wrote.

  Run. Even when we think something might be good for us, we still run from it if it means change. Why is that? Is it some prehistoric instinct? Did the cave people who lived by the creed “same ole, same ole” live longer than the thrill-seekers?

  Nah, Eliza thought, try again. She often had to write her way through many false starts before finally finding the rhythm of a piece.

  Why, she rehearsed on the keys of her laptop, do we run from what might be good for us? Are we so sure that the way we’ve always done things is the best possible way to get along? What’s wrong with trying something new every day—driving a different route, eating something besides our standard peanut butter and jelly—

  “Ugh,” Eliza groaned out loud. “You suck.”

  She folded the laptop closed and took her restless mind out into the back yard.

  Hildy knelt at the edge of the garden on a piece of sheepskin she had found in the salvage bin at the fabric store. She dug in the dirt and planted another pansy from the flat of flowers at her side.

  Eliza didn’t bother offering to help. Her lack of gardening skills was legendary. She either overwatered or underwatered, never weeded, wanted the plants to just fend for themselves and look pretty. She was always shocked when something she had planted over the summer died from a winter freeze. She’d see houses all along her street with sheets and pillow cases draped over the plants, but it never registered that she should do that, too. It was nature—wasn’t it supposed to take care of itself?

  Eliza plopped into one of the plastic chairs beneath the porch and watched her mother-in-law enjoy herself.

  “Want something to drink?” she asked.

  “No,” Hildy answered. “I’m fine.”

  Eliza wanted to talk: about the date, about the flowers, about her strange conversation with David, everything. But suddenly Hildy seemed like the wrong choice.

  “I think I’ll walk down and see if Carolyn is home.”

  “Have fun.”

  Eliza changed into shorts and a long-sleeved T-shirt and
made her way down the street.

  Katie answered the door. “Where’s Daisy?”

  “At home asleep. She had a big morning. What are you up to?”

  Katie admitted her to the house. “My mom and I are making up baskets for Mother’s Day.”

  “Mother’s Day? Is that here already?”

  “In a few weeks,” Katie said. “You’d better send your mom some flowers.”

  “I’d better,” Eliza agreed.

  “Thank goodness,” Carolyn as soon as she saw Eliza coming up the stairs. “Another pair of hands.”

  “Put me to work,” Eliza said. “I’m bored out of my mind today.”

  The dining room table had been cleared of fleece, and in its place were stacks of colorful baskets, several bags of ribbons and colored tissue paper, and an assortment of candy and school supplies.

  “We’re making these for the women’s shelter,” Katie explained. “The moms get the chocolate and the kids get the stupid stuff.”

  “Katie!”

  Katie rolled her eyes at her mother. “It’s true. I’d rather have chocolate.”

  She grabbed a piece and unwrapped it just to prove her point.

  Carolyn reached toward her and slapped at the air. “Stop eating our inventory.”

  Katie grinned and handed some of the chocolate to Eliza.

  Eliza surveyed the room, from the cluttered dining room table to the wall hangings and the other furnishings.

  “Do all you Syracuse women do all this superwoman stuff?”

  “What superwoman stuff?” Carolyn asked.

  Eliza swept her hand across the room. “All these crafts. Those afghans over there. Those fleece blankets you made. Hildy must sew about three or four quilts a year—they’re hanging all over the house and piled on the beds. And she gardens, and cooks—I barely know how to do anything but brush my own hair.”

  “It’s just something you learn,” Carolyn said. “My mother taught me, I’m teaching Katie—”

  “Your mom never taught you stuff like this?” Katie asked.

  “She and I are more into movies,” Eliza said. “Sometimes we’ll see three or four in a weekend. And she does cook—I’ve learned a lot of that from her.”