Mine

by Georgia Beers

  Aware of nothing other than how much she wanted to get up, walk around the table, and hug Rachel until that sad, pained look on her face was gone, Courtney nodded her agreement. “I do.”

  They sat in silence.

  “You okay?” Courtney asked after several long minutes.

  Her question seemed to spur Rachel into action. She cleared her throat. “It’s getting late. I really should go.”

  Courtney tried unsuccessfully to hide the disappointment that filled her. Rachel was right. It was getting late and they both had to work in the morning. Still, there was part of her that didn’t want the evening to end, despite the unpleasant tangent they’d gotten off on. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

  They stood at the same time and Rachel began to clear her place setting.

  “No, no. Leave it.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Absolutely,” Courtney said with sincerity as they moved toward the front door. “I’m glad you came. I really had a great time.”

  “Me, too. Thanks so much for dinner. It was terrific.”

  “Oh! Wait.” Courtney left Rachel standing in the foyer as she ran back into the kitchen. A couple minutes later, she returned with an enormous slice of chocolate cream pie covered in plastic wrap. “Don’t forget your dessert.”

  Much to Courtney’s relief, Rachel allowed a smile to peek through. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  They held one another’s gaze, but before Courtney could make any sort of move, Rachel bent quickly and kissed her cheek. “Good night.” With that, she was out the door and down the front stairs to her car.

  Courtney waved as the BMW backed out of the driveway and gave a soft toot before heading down the street. She stood framed in the screen door for several long minutes, replaying the evening, weighing the good and the bad, trying to figure out if it could be considered a successful date. While the exact path to their weird conversation about hunting was unclear to her and only served to make Rachel more of a mystery she wanted to solve, she was certain of one thing. She wanted to see Rachel again. She definitely wanted to see her again.

  Definitely.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Seems pretty simple to me.” Jeff shoveled a forkful of chocolate cream pie into his mouth and closed his eyes. “God, this is good.”

  “Don’t hog it all,” Rachel whined, pulling the plate toward her with her fork. They were sitting at Jeff’s small table, sharing the enormous slice of pie Courtney had sent home with Rachel the previous night. “Simple how?”

  “You’re afraid.”

  “I’m afraid?” She rolled her eyes. “Okay, Dr. Phil, what am I afraid of?”

  “As you said before: her baggage.” He pointed his fork across the table at her. “If you can sabotage this now, you won’t have to deal with it. Therefore, you started in with the gun talk, which naturally led to the hunting thing. Nothing like starting light and moving on from there, by the way. You see what I’m saying? It can’t be easy to take the place of a dead woman. If you screw it up first, there won’t be any possibility of you getting hurt down the road.”

  Rachel’s eyes popped open wide. “What? Don’t you think you’re rushing things a bit? Who said I wanted to take the place of a dead woman? When did I say I wanted that spot?”

  Jeff shrugged, obviously not at all deterred by Rachel’s increase in volume. He knew her well and could read her like a book, whether she cared to admit it or not. “You haven’t been at all interested in anybody in ages. Not a soul. This one? You like her.”

  The idea of slapping the smirk right off his face held sudden great appeal for Rachel at that moment. She pressed her lips tightly together and glared at him as he chewed another piece of the pie and looked far too satisfied with himself. He was right, God damn him. He was right and she knew it. She did like Courtney, more than she was comfortable dwelling on, more than she was ready to deal with. She had no idea if Courtney felt the same way, had no idea where to go from here, and wondered if she’d wrecked everything at dinner with her overkill of disapproval.

  When she thought back to the night before, she was mortified by her own behavior, by the way the idea of Courtney’s sympathy had embarrassed her. My God, what the hell was wrong with me? She had no idea what had set her off, causing her to flay herself open in such a way that Courtney could see everything inside. Dead deer carcasses. What a charming discussion for our second date. She’d been utterly disgusted with herself, and the sudden need to get away had been so strong, she was still amazed she hadn’t sprinted out of Courtney’s house without looking back. She could still see the look on Courtney’s face, the compassion in her eyes. It made Rachel feel weak. And worse…vulnerable.

  “Have you called her yet?” Jeff asked, snapping her out of her flashback.

  Rachel grimaced, hating that she could hide nothing from him.

  Jeff sighed. “It’s been twenty-four hours. You need to call her.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s only polite for you to call her.”

  “I know.”

  He popped the last piece of the pie into his mouth and smiled at her as he chewed.

  “I want to punch you right now,” she said to him.

  “I know,” he responded, still smiling.

  *

  The next morning, there was a typical October chill in the air. Summer was officially gone and autumn was finally making itself known after taking its good old sweet time arriving. Rachel didn’t mind it, though. Upstate New York would surprise many a Southerner with its high humidity in the thick of summer. Those months were beautiful, lush and green, the smells of fresh-cut grass and blooming rosebushes permeating the air. But they could also be very sticky months and Rachel didn’t do well at all with sticky. It sapped all her energy and made her cranky. That’s why she loved the fall. She loved the way the heaviness of the air eased, the relief it brought. She loved the crisp mornings and the crunch of fallen leaves under her feet. She waited all summer for September to arrive so she could breathe again.

  It was Friday, which didn’t mean the same thing to realtors as it did to other people. The weekend was their busy time, and Friday was more the beginning of her week than the blessed end of it. She inhaled deeply, loving the scent of the autumn air. Just that smell alone lifted her spirits and made her smile. She felt good. It was a good day, nice weather, and she’d decided she would call Courtney when she got a free moment, maybe see if she was free at all in the next few days. She avoided dwelling on things too much…what Jeff had said, how she actually felt, the color of Courtney’s eyes. Instead, she simply inhaled again as she crossed the street to the parking lot designated for her building. Not for the first time, she entertained the questions of what it would cost and would it be practical to have some kind of carport built for her tenants, just enough of a roof to keep the better part of the winter snow off their vehicles.

  As she got into her car, she wondered if waiting longer than twenty-four hours to call Courtney was considered an etiquette faux pas. Did people even pay attention to etiquette any more? The kind, gentle face of her paternal grandmother crossed her mind then. Grandma Hart was nothing if not generous and polite. Anything Rachel knew about manners, she’d learned from Grandma Hart growing up. Which side of the plate the fork went on, the simple act of saying “please” and “thank you,” holding the door for people, placing your napkin in your lap at meals. Grandma Hart was the sweetest woman Rachel knew. And if she were here right now, she’d not only scold Rachel for neglecting to call and give a proper thank-you to Courtney for dinner, she’d berate her for not going a step beyond.

  Without another thought, Rachel picked up her cell and dialed a number she knew from memory.

  “Hi, Sandy. It’s Rachel Hart. How are you today?” She fit the key into the ignition. “Good. Good. I’m great, thanks. Listen, Sandy, I’d like to place an order. Can you take care of it for me?”

  *

  Thank God
it’s Friday.

  It was the only thought going through Courtney’s head as she sat at her desk at the front of her classroom and fiddled with a pen. The clock ticked loudly in the silence of the room, the only sound aside from the gentle scratching of pens on paper as her class took a pop quiz. She actually felt a little guilty now about hitting them with it, but they were restless—typical behavior for both a Friday and the proximity to the fast-approaching Homecoming—and she hadn’t the patience to deal with them. She’d caught Andrew Gray yet again texting on his phone. She knew he’d reached his limit, that she should toss him out on his ass, send him to the office, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She just wasn’t in the mood for a confrontation with him. She’d confiscated his phone as usual and that was that. Quiz time. Andrew glared at her from the back of the room like always, but she really didn’t give a shit.

  What she did give a shit about was that she hadn’t heard from Rachel since their dinner Wednesday night. Hurt, anger, and confusion mixed sourly in her stomach as she tried unsuccessfully not to think about it. Aside from the icky conversation about guns and hunting, hadn’t the evening been a pleasant success? She thought so, but maybe she was mistaken. A sudden thought hit and sent her into a momentary panic. Racking her brain, she thought back, trying to remember if she’d mentioned Theresa in any way. She’d been careful about the pork, not saying anything about it being Theresa’s favorite…wait. The pistol. She was pretty sure she’d mentioned Theresa during their gun conversation.

  Was that a bad thing?

  If she thought rationally, didn’t it make complete sense that Theresa’s name would come up every so often? Would Rachel really expect it not to? That was totally unrealistic, wasn’t it? Courtney had spent a decade of her life with the woman; just because she’d passed away didn’t mean her time with Courtney was erased. Rachel didn’t really expect that, did she?

  Or maybe she did.

  “She just sounds a little skittish to me,” Amelia had said after Courtney filled her in on the evening. “Give the girl some time. She’ll come around.”

  Courtney wanted to believe that. Wanted to believe it with every fiber of her being. At the same time, she felt the proverbial phrase constantly appearing in her mind: I’m too old for this shit. Why couldn’t things be simpler? You want to date me? Fine. Cool. Let’s date. Why the push/pull? The back-and-forth? It was exhausting and she was beginning to resent having to deal with it at all.

  Trying to keep her anguish invisible to her students, she rubbed at her forehead with her fingertips and stifled a sigh of frustration. Before she could analyze further, a light tap on her closed classroom door snatched her attention. It opened and a very large bouquet of flowers in every color of the rainbow entered the room, seemingly with legs of its own since Courtney couldn’t see who was carrying it.

  “Ms. McAllister?”

  Courtney recognized the voice of one of the office aides, Gina.

  “Right here.” Courtney stood, trying hard to ignore the murmurs, snickers, ooohs, and ahhhs of her class.

  “Sorry to bother you, but I didn’t have anyplace in the office to put these. I was afraid they’d get knocked over.” Gina was a rotund woman in her early seventies. She brushed her graying hair out of her face after she set the vase down on Courtney’s desk. Shifting from one foot to the other, she finally pointed at the flowers and whispered, “There’s a card.”

  “I see that,” Courtney said with a nod, having no intention of letting Gina or her classroom full of teenagers in on who sent them. She wondered if they were from Rachel and was simultaneously embarrassed and giddy at the thought. “Thanks for bringing them, Gina. I appreciate it.”

  They stared at one another until Gina sighed and took her leave.

  The class was still abuzz with curiosity. Many of the girls looked on with envy and Courtney shook her head, still a little embarrassed, feeling the color that had washed up her neck and across her cheeks. Gina didn’t have to bring the flowers here. She could have found a way to keep them in the office. She’d done it to cause a stir, which she seemed to enjoy doing whenever the chance arose. Courtney supposed after working at the school for a hundred years like Gina had, you had to create your own excitement. Courtney grabbed the small white envelope off the plastic stand and slipped it into the pocket of her slacks.

  “All right. Time’s up. Pass your papers forward.” Groans filled the air as papers shuffled and Courtney zipped along the front of each row, collecting the quizzes. The bell rang and the class seemed to pop out of their desks simultaneously, like a flock of birds that somehow just knows how to all take off together. “Have a great weekend. I’ll see you all on Monday,” she said, raising her voice over the din.

  She’d only commandeered two phones today, so she withdrew them from her desk drawer and handed the first one off as its owner kept her eyes down. “Sorry, Ms. McAllister,” she muttered.

  Courtney nodded.

  Andrew Gray sauntered up the aisle just as slowly as he always did. Courtney waited for him, steeling herself for his entry into her personal space. He didn’t disappoint her and she fought with her own instincts to keep from stepping back. She made direct eye contact with him and never broke it as he took his phone from her hand. They stood like that for what seemed like hours, until Courtney was sure she was going to have to find a chiropractor to help with the kink developing in her neck from looking up for so long. Just when she was ready to scream or give in or both, Andrew grinned and winked at her. She flinched as if he’d poked her and then blinked in surprise.

  Did he just wink at me? And—my God—did he actually smile?

  “Nice flowers,” he said, his voice low, vibrating in the pit of her stomach. Then he and his phone were gone.

  Courtney stood, dumbfounded at the strangeness of the scene that had just occurred. Andrew Gray had spoken and smiled at her. She whipped herself around in a circle and did a quick, superficial scan of her classroom, half expecting to find cameras and people waiting to jump out and surprise her. Finishing her perusal brought her back to the huge bouquet. She slipped the card from her pocket and opened the envelope.

  It read simply: Dinner was fantastic.

  The grin that spread across her face would not be contained, no matter how hard she tried to control it. With the kids all gone, she took the opportunity to bury her nose in the flowers. There was a white rose, several red and white carnations, half a dozen tulips, and a bunch of other varieties Courtney couldn’t name. The arrangement was beautiful and she felt suddenly light. Theresa used to send flowers whenever she found herself in the doghouse, and it never failed to get her out. This totally makes up for not calling, she thought. Then, God, I’m a pushover.

  She didn’t care. Rachel sent her flowers. She was flying.

  The obnoxious buzz of the bell hit her like a slap and she glanced up at the clock, noting she was going to be late for her study hall. As usual. Grabbing a slip of paper, she jotted a note for the cleaning woman, letting her know she’d be back later to pick up the flowers and take them home. Then she zipped out the door of the classroom, still sporting a half-grin.

  What was it about getting flowers that made a woman stupidly happy?

  *

  A staff meeting on a Friday afternoon was just about the dumbest idea Courtney had ever heard. Yet her boss insisted on scheduling just such a thing at least twice a school year. Each time, one of the teachers would remind him that maybe it wasn’t such a great time for a meeting, to which he’d wholeheartedly agree, and then they’d return to Tuesdays or Wednesdays again…until several months went by and he’d forget about the reminder and schedule another meeting for 4:00 on a Friday.

  Courtney coasted into her driveway at 5:13, cursing her principal and thanking her lucky stars above that it was the weekend. The week had seemed to last twice as long as it actually had. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she went around to the passenger side and bent into the car to gently and carefully retriev
e the vase of flowers, which she’d set in a box and packed with newspaper, hoping to keep it from tipping during the ride. She was pleased to note that she’d succeeded.

  With great effort, she managed to get everything into the house in one trip, banging against walls and doors all the way in. A breath of relief left her lungs in a puff as she set everything on the kitchen counter and noticed the answering-machine light was blinking. She punched the Play button, then began to tidy up, pulling the vase from the box and arranging the flowers so they were displayed evenly as she listened.

  “Hey, it’s me.” Mark’s voice filled the air. “Bills game. Four o’clock on Sunday. Lisa will be here and we’d like you to come. Bring your hot realtor if you want.” The mischievous grin was apparent in his tone. “And can you make that taco dip? Pretty please?”

  She laughed. Mark loved her taco dip, so much so that the last time she made it, she’d caught him in the kitchen, away from the rest of the guests, eating it with a spoon. Lisa will be here and we’d like you to come. “We’d” like you to come? Wow. She made a mental note to call Lisa.

  The machine beeped. “Hi, honey. Just calling to remind you about dinner tomorrow night. And don’t forget about shopping on Sunday. Around six. Love, Mom.” Courtney laughed again. Her mother, for some strange reason, always felt it necessary to sign her answering machine messages. It was simultaneously weird and endearing. She frowned as she realized she wouldn’t be able to make Mark’s on Sunday because she’d promised to go Christmas shopping with her mother, who loved to get an early jump on the season and who would be finished with her shopping before the beginning of November. Courtney had never quite managed to be that efficient.

  “Hi, Courtney. It’s Rachel.” Courtney stopped what she was doing, listening intently as her heart rate picked up speed. “I’m really sorry I didn’t call sooner. That was rude of me. I wanted to say thanks for dinner the other night. It was great and I had a nice time and…I should have said so sooner.” There was a pause, as if Rachel were trying to formulate her thoughts before she continued. “I was also wondering if you’d like to do something again sometime. Maybe catch a movie or something? And I’ll completely understand if you don’t. I wasn’t exactly…” She trailed off as if she was suddenly uncertain. “Well, anyway, just give me a call if you want.” She left her cell number.