“In here, honey.” Her father’s voice came from the direction of the living room. Lisa finished putting away the perishables, then followed the sound. Will Drakemore sat in his usual recliner, pretty much the only piece of furniture he ever occupied. On the TV tray next to him sat the remote for the television, the cordless phone, an opened bottle of Coors Light, and a half-eaten bowl of potato chips. The television showed a baseball game, as usual for this time of year. In the fall, it would be football. In the winter, hockey. Will was nothing if not a sports enthusiast, at least from the comfort of his La-Z-Boy.
He turned kind brown eyes in Lisa’s direction and the corners crinkled when he grinned at her. “Hi there, beautiful girl. How’s tricks?”
Lisa smiled back and bent to kiss him on the cheek. “‘How’s tricks?’ What are you, 85?”
“Some days, it feels like I’m not that far away from it.”
Lisa scoffed at the remark. In reality, her father was only fifty-nine. Admittedly, though, he was not aging well, and Lisa knew it had almost everything to do with his horrifically unhealthy diet and utter lack of anything even remotely resembling exercise. He’d been a handsome man once, in pretty good shape. But in the years since the divorce, he’d put on weight and seemed to lose an alarming amount of hair, so that now he resembled Ned Beatty a bit, complete with a doughnut of snowy hair around the perimeter of his head and a protruding belly that rivaled Santa Claus’s. He looked a good ten years older than he was.
Another thing to blame on her mother.
He caught Lisa eyeing his bowl of chips. “Don’t start. I’m just having a few.” He kept his voice light. He didn’t like conflict and Lisa knew it. Part of the reason for the divorce…he avoided instead of dealing with something uncomfortable.
“I’m not starting anything,” she said, holding her hands up in supplication. “I have no problem with you eating chips if you’ve had something decent first.”
Her father turned back to the game. “I had eggs for breakfast.”
She wanted to ask if that meant scrambled with some vegetables or fried in a boatload of butter (his preferred way), but she just wasn’t in the mood to be that person today. “Good. I will accept eggs.” She took a seat on the couch. “I bought you some more.”
Will looked at her. “Lisa. I appreciate it a lot, but you don’t have to buy me groceries. I’m a big boy.” His smile took out any sting his words may have carried.
“I know. I just like to make sure you’ve got food. I got you some salad stuff and some bananas, too. And that coffee creamer you like.”
He shook his head good-naturedly. “You take good care of your dad.”
“It’s my job,” she replied with a bit too much enthusiasm. He gave her a look, seemed about to say something, but apparently changed his mind. “What’s new?” Lisa asked him.
He waited for the pitch before answering, which used to drive Lisa crazy until she realized there was nothing in the world she could do to make things any different. She would never understand the fascination with watching baseball on television. Being in the ballpark and seeing a game was totally different and something she enjoyed, but watching baseball on television was like how she imagined it would be to watch her own hair grow: boring and endless.
The pitch was a strike and the batter called out. “Damn it,” Will muttered under his breath. Then he turned to his daughter. “Not much is new. Work’s the same. The house is the same.” He shrugged. “Oh. Your brother got a promotion.”
“Eric? Yeah, I heard.” Not from him, she almost said, but didn’t want to get started down that road, as it would only depress her to know how low she ranked on her brother’s list of important people. “He’s doing so well there. I’m amazed.”
“Me, too. How are the animals?”
It was always the way he asked about her job and she smiled in response. “The animals are good. There are too many of them, but I doubt that will ever change.”
“It won’t change until humans stop being assholes.”
Her father had lots of quirks, but he tended to tell it like it was.
They sat for a while, alternating between watching the game and partaking in small talk. The sound of the back door caught their attention and a voice boomed through the house.
“Where are you, old man?”
Lisa recognized Eric’s voice and watched with mixed emotions as her father’s face lit up.
“I’m in the living room, boy,” he responded and soon Eric filled the doorway.
Even on a Saturday, he was dressed so neatly it was almost comical. Khaki pants with a sharp crease down each leg, dark brown loafers, navy blue polo shirt with the Ralph Lauren logo on the breast pocket area. His light hair was trimmed precisely and neatly combed. He was clean-shaven and smelled of a light musk—the same aftershave he’d used since college. His bright brown eyes landed on Lisa and he grinned, dimples just like her dad’s becoming visible.
“Hey, Lise. How’s it going?”
“Fine,” she replied as she got up to give him a hug. When she pulled back, she looked him in the eye and said, “Heard you got a promotion.”
He caught the meaning behind her words immediately—but I didn’t hear it from you—and scrambled to do damage control. “I did. Listen, I meant to give you a call and then I got waylaid in the office and it slipped my mind. I’m really sorry.”
He did a good job of sounding sincere, so Lisa let him off the hook even though she didn’t quite believe him, and even though it stung to be so insignificant to him as to “slip his mind.” She patted his shoulder and said simply, “Good for you. I’m proud of you.”
He had the good sense to flush a light pink, so Lisa was pretty sure her subtle guilt trip had struck home. She had a flash of satisfaction…and then she felt bad. Shaking it off, she sat back down and proceeded to listen for the next twenty or thirty minutes as her father and brother chatted on and on.
“So, you gonna do financial planning for corporations now?” Will asked.
Eric nodded, pride obvious on his face. “Yup. That’s a big chunk of what this promotion means.”
“Like, retirement and stuff?”
“Annuities, 401(k)s, IRAs. Things like that.”
They talked a bit more and Lisa had the sudden need to be part of the conversation. “Um…we don’t have very many full-time employees, but I could talk to Jessica, see if we could use your services.”
Eric’s smile was wide. “You’d do that?”
“Of course. No promises, though.”
“I’d like that. Thanks, Lise.”
Lisa nodded as Eric and her father picked back up as if they hadn’t missed a beat. A smile tugged at Lisa’s lips and she suddenly found herself enjoying their banter. She listened for a while longer, tossing in a comment or question here and there, but finally stood to go.
“Already?” her father asked, surprised. She had to give him credit. His reaction seemed genuine.
“Afraid so. I’ve got a few things I’ve got to take care of today.”
“Well, okay.” Will stood up and opened his arms to his daughter. “I’m glad you stopped by, honey. It’s always good to see you.”
She stepped into his embrace and allowed herself that short burst of feeling safe, like she had in her dad’s arms when she was a little girl.
“Thanks for the groceries.”
“You’re welcome,” she said.
Eric took his turn and wrapped her up in a hug as well, something that surprised her. She forced herself to relax and let her little brother hold her. It was weird. And nice. And weird. But nice.
On her way home, Lisa stopped by the garden store. Often, when feeling stressed or confused or too much in her head (an all-too-common scenario for somebody who spent the majority of her time with animals), she liked to combat it with some kind of mindless busywork. So she bought pots, dirt, and some vegetable plants and decided she’d work on the patio garden she’d promised herself last summer. The sun w
as shining, the air was warm—it was the perfect day for gardening. She was elbow deep in potting soil and tomato plants when her cell rang. A quick glance at the screen had her smiling, and she peeled off her gardening gloves quickly so she could answer.
“Hey, stranger,” she said by way of greeting.
“Back atcha, gorgeous,” Grace McKinney replied. “Long time, no talk.”
Lisa plopped down in a lawn chair. “How’s life on the other side of town?”
“Not gonna lie, it’s pretty great.”
Grace and Lisa had been friends since high school, and Grace was one of only a small handful of classmates Lisa still kept in touch with. She was also one of the few people on earth who knew Lisa better than she knew herself. She’d been around during Lisa’s parents’ divorce, through Lisa’s various attempts at therapy, and she was the only other person besides Aunt Joyce who could tell it exactly like it was. And Lisa would actually listen. Being very aware of all these things didn’t always help, because Lisa also knew she couldn’t really hide anything from Grace; the woman would see right through her.
“I’m glad to hear it. And Ella? Work? The house? Everything okay?” She listened to Grace update her on things, a smile on her face. As Grace spoke, Lisa went inside the house and poured herself a Diet Coke.
“And what’s new with you, my friend? It’s been too long since we talked. Catch me up.”
Lisa sank into the couch, dangled her feet over the upholstered arm, and spent several minutes artfully sharing the parts of her life that didn’t include kissing a certain cupcake-scented volunteer in the upstairs hallway of Aunt Joyce’s house. She concluded the heavily edited version of her life by detailing her visit with Dad earlier in the day.
“How is the old man?” Grace asked. “I haven’t seen him in years.”
“Oh, you know. Same shit, different day. At least his house is neat; he hasn’t fallen into bachelor messiness. But he’s got to be lonely. All he does is watch sports.”
“Yeah, but he likes sports. Has he dated at all? I mean, it’s been what? Ten? Twelve years since the divorce?”
Lisa sighed and shook her head, even though Grace couldn’t see her. “I don’t know. I do think he’s gone on a date or two, but nothing serious. Honestly? I think he still is, and always will be, hung up on my mom.”
“That’s so sad,” Grace said, her voice sympathetic.
“Isn’t it? He’s still got pictures around the house of all of us. As a family. I got rid of most of mine.”
“You did?”
Lisa furrowed her brow at the surprise in Grace’s tone. “Of course I did. Why would I want to be reminded of a family that no longer exists?”
“Um…because that’s where you came from? I mean, just because your parents are no longer together doesn’t mean they didn’t love each other once. And love made you and your brothers. Right?”
She made it sound so simple and Lisa squinted at the ceiling as she absorbed the words. “I suppose.”
“Okay,” Grace said with a gentle chuckle. “I get it. Shutting up now. Tell me about Junebug Farms instead. What’s new there? Anything?”
“Again, same shit, different day.”
“Well, how about with you, then? Any dates recently? It’s been a long time since you made out with somebody, Lise. Or at least since I heard details of you doing so. Give me some dirt.”
Ashley’s face flashed into Lisa’s mind, without warning. Not for the first time, and not just her face. Her eyes. Her hands. Her mouth. That mouth. Lisa relived—again—Ashley’s ambush kiss in the beach house, how easily Ashley had won her over, how quickly she’d taken Lisa’s control away, how amazing a kiss it was.
And how she’d avoided Ashley like a rabies-infected raccoon ever since.
She should tell Grace.
Grace would have advice.
Guidance.
No. She couldn’t tell Grace. She couldn’t tell anybody. Well, she’d told Aunt Joyce. She hadn’t had a choice; the woman was relentless. But she couldn’t tell anybody else. She couldn’t. It shouldn’t have happened and it wouldn’t happen again. “No dirt, I’m afraid. Unless you count the dirt on my back patio in which I’m planting tomatoes, peppers, and basil.”
“Lame,” Grace said. “You disappoint me. How am I supposed to live vicariously if you don’t go off and do something wild and crazy once in a while? I’m settled down now. I can’t do wild and crazy anymore.”
Lisa snorted a laugh. “Yeah, like you ever did wild and crazy when you were single. You’re one of the most level-headed people I know.”
“Shh! Don’t let that get around. Ella has no idea.”
Lisa laughed louder. “Ella knows everything about you.”
Grace offered up an enormous sigh. “She does. Damn it.”
They talked for a few minutes longer before signing off. Even then, Lisa stayed on the couch, cell phone in hand, as her thoughts drifted back to the day at Aunt Joyce’s beach house. It had been nearly two weeks, but her mind couldn’t seem to stop hitting the replay button on that kiss. Over and over again she found herself staring off into space, lost in that moment. The memories were still fresh. Still hot. Still caused Lisa to flush with the pleasant heat of arousal, caused her heart rate to pick up speed, caused her to forget whatever it was she happened to be doing at the time.
Without thinking, she pushed the buttons on the phone. It rang once.
“You missed me already?” Grace’s amusement carried across the line.
“I kissed somebody,” Lisa blurted.
Silence.
“Excuse me?”
“At the volunteer picnic. Over Memorial Day. At my aunt’s beach house.” She swallowed past a tight throat. “I kissed somebody.”
“Okay, okay. Back the truck up, skippy. I have three very important questions. One, whom did you kiss?” She emphasized the word “whom,” as an English teacher would. “Second, how and why did this kiss come about? I want all the details. Spare nothing. And third, was it awesome?”
Lisa took a deep breath, knowing she couldn’t back out on the story now, and feeling simultaneously regretful about and relieved by that fact. She started from the very beginning, from the first day she met Ashley some time in January, through the fundraiser. She included Ashley’s crying jag in the break room and Lisa’s offer of comfort—“Looking back now, that might have sent a few signals,” she told Grace, who replied with a smarmy, “You think?”—She told Grace about Clark Breckenridge’s creepy near-stalking of Ashley, and the unpleasant weirdness Lisa still suffered whenever he got too close to her. She ended with the volunteer picnic and the ambush kiss, leaving out no detail.
“Wow,” Grace said after a beat of silence. Another beat passed and she repeated, “Wow.”
“I know,” Lisa said, inexplicably exhausted after telling the story. “Also, I think she might have been a little tipsy.”
“Understandable. Maybe she needed a little liquid courage to do something she’d been thinking about doing for a while.”
Lisa shook off the suggestion. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”
“And where do things stand now? Are you guys dating?”
“Things are nowhere.” Lisa braced for the scolding. It came immediately.
“What? What do you mean they’re nowhere? Did you ask her out? I mean, you’ve had your tongue in her mouth. Call me crazy, but I think buying her dinner is the next logical step.”
“I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Because we work together?” Lisa made a face at the questioning tone of her own voice.
“No, you don’t. She’s a volunteer. Next excuse?”
Lisa sighed.
“Lisa. What’s the problem?”
Lisa let a beat pass. Two. The smallness of her voice when she spoke embarrassed her, but she spoke anyway. “I’m nervous. It’s been a long time for me, Gracie. And you know me; I’m not big on relationships. I’ve seen how t
hey crash and burn. Also, I suck at them.”
Grace did not make fun of her—one of the reasons Lisa adored their friendship so much. Grace knew when not to make a joke. “You do not suck at relationships. You’re just…overly cautious to the point of…ridiculousness. You’ve got to put yourself out there, you know? Hell, if I can do it, you can do it.” They chuckled together. “Look where it got me.”
“I don’t want to take care of anybody else.” A succession of images flew through her brain: her father, her brothers, her animals, her job. “I’ve done enough of that in my lifetime already.”
“This is true. But who says you’ll have to take care of her?”
Lisa said nothing. She couldn’t imagine.
“You’re projecting and you know it.”
She sighed. “You’re right. I do know it. It just feels so…risky.”
“It is. I completely get that. Believe me, I do. But…listen, just because your parents’ marriage didn’t work doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to be with somebody.”
Lisa scoffed, mentally patted herself on the back for such a good performance. “I know that, silly.”
“Whatever,” Grace said. “I know you and I know that’s what you’re thinking.” Grace paused a moment, then said, “You can’t just sit by and be passive in your own life, Lise. You have to…take part. You have to make things happen, not wait for them to happen to you.”
Lisa said nothing. Grace was right, but that didn’t make Lisa any more ready.
A sigh of defeat carried across the line. Finally, Grace said, “Okay, I really have to go.” She lowered her tone and added, “Seriously, Lisa, you deserve to be happy. I’m not sure why you seem to think otherwise.”
“An analysis for another time, my friend,” Lisa said, before they exchanged goodbyes.
With a huge groan, Lisa hauled herself off the couch and back out onto the patio to finish her planting, taking Keeler with her this time. She clipped his chain on him and he plopped down on the patio with a relieved groan.
“Me, too, buddy. Me, too.”
It was blissfully quiet—her neighbors apparently out for the day—and she tried to focus on her task…the feel of the plant’s delicate root system between her fingers, the earthy, woodsy smell of the potting soil…but Grace’s words kept coming back to echo through her head:
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