by Amy Harmon
Tonight was different. There were only two of us here and once I was down to my swimsuit, I’d quickly be in the water. No standing around on display tonight.
“Come in whenever you’re ready,” Chad said. He turned away from me and started swimming to the other side. I suspected he knew I was uncomfortable and wanted to give me a little privacy. I quickly took advantage of his kindness, pulled off my sweats and jumped into the water.
It may have been heated but it still felt bracing and took my breath away. I moved around trying to warm up my body until Chad swam back.
“Did anyone ever teach you how to breathe while you’re swimming freestyle?”
“If they did, I don’t remember.”
“Then let’s start there,” Chad said. Soon I was putting my face in the water and blowing out a long, slow breath. I didn’t have to do this alone. Chad did everything with me. Once I’d mastered taking a breath, lowering my face and exhaling to the count of five, we moved to timing the inhale. Chad took my hands and guided them in the arm motion of freestyle swimming while he helped me get accustomed to the time I would take a breath. “Left, right, inhale. Right, left, inhale. Left, right, inhale. Right, left, inhale. Good. Now while we do it, blow out slowly during the first two strokes. Blow. Out. Inhale. Blow. Out. Inhale. That’s right. You’ve got it.”
Chad was such a kind and encouraging teacher, I found myself wanting to be a good student.
“Now let’s put all that in the water. You won’t actually swim yet but you’ll do all this under water. You’ll exhale, stroke and inhale.” I lowered my upper body even with the water and went through the motions. When I had a good rhythm going, Chad stepped aside. “Now take it across the pool. Don’t panic and don’t rush. You know you’re going to get a breath in three counts, so just keep your rhythm going.”
I repeated the words in my mind as I swam. Blow. Out. Inhale. Blow. Out. Inhale. I was swimming the length of the pool without panic. I didn’t have to stop and tread water while I caught my breath. Every third stroke I took a quick breath and then with my face in the water, I slowly exhaled. Before I knew it I was at the other end of the pool.
“That was so easy,” I yelled. From across the pool, Chad smiled and gave me two thumbs up.
“Now swim back to me. Just keep the rhythm steady and don’t panic.”
I put my face back in the water and sang the words in my mind. After years of fighting the water when I did the freestyle stroke I felt completely in control. I was elated.
“You did great,” Chad said after I swam back to him.
“You’re a good teacher.”
Chad gave me a few pointers on my kick and we both swam a couple more lengths of the pool. When we were through swimming, we split up to get dressed. Chad went into the boys’ locker room and I went into the girls’.
Even with the lights on, I managed to freak myself out. The room felt too big and quiet. I imagined how easy it would be for someone to lurk behind a row of lockers, ready to leap out and kill me. I dressed in a panic and ran as quickly as I could back out to meet Chad. I didn’t bother with combing my hair or fixing my face. Those things weren’t worth dying for.
“Are you okay?” Chad asked. “You look terrified.”
“That room is scary at night. I completely worked myself up in there.”
Chad laughed and put his arm around me. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you. Now what sounds good to eat?”
“How about pancakes?” I said.
“Pancakes it is.”
The fluorescent diner lights blazed and I wished I’d controlled my fear long enough to apply some mascara and comb through my hair. My chlorine-dipped skin felt tight and dry and I could feel my hair frizzing as it dried.
While we waited for our pancakes and bacon, we swapped Thanksgiving plans and family traditions. I’d just finished telling him about my mom’s famous stuffing when I realized he was smiling at me.
“What? Is something funny?”
“No, I was just looking at your hair.”
“Oh, it’s awful, isn’t it?” I touched the tight, unruly curls.
“It’s fantastic.” Chad reached over and twirled a curl around his finger.
“It needs some serious hair product,” I said. Chad kept his finger there, twisting it around and around.
“I don’t think it needs anything.” Chad’s fingers were so close to my face I could feel their warmth. I wanted to tilt my face so his hand touched my cheek but I knew that would be sending the wrong message. I’d finally met the man of my dreams. So why did every part of me want to lean into Chad’s warm fingers, to have his hand touch my cheek? It didn’t make any sense.
Fortunately, I was saved from my confusion before I could make a fool of myself. The waitress arrived with plates of food and soon things were back to normal.
At least as normal as they could be after I realized I wanted someone other than the man of my dreams to caress my cheek.
Chapter Ten
Thanksgiving dinner was over and Mom, my sister-in-law Laura, and I were putting together this year’s Thanksgiving Day puzzle. Dad, my brother James, and his 3 year-old son, Jonah were napping to the sounds of a football game on television. We’d just finished the edge of the puzzle when my phone chirped.
CHAD: HOPE YOU’VE HAD A NICE DAY WITH YOUR FAMILY. WANT TO KNOW WHAT I AM THANKFUL FOR? YOU. SEE YOU AT THE MEET ON TUESDAY.
“What’s the matter, Lizzie?” Mom asked.
I stared at Chad’s text, turkey and stuffing churning in my now upset stomach.
“Lizzie, tell me what’s wrong.”
“I’ve done a terrible thing,” I said.
“What have you done?”
“I’ve led on a really nice guy.” I squeezed my eyes shut and put my head in my hands. “I’m so ashamed.”
“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think,” Laura said.
“What are you talking about?” Mom asked.
I told them everything. I told them about Janessa and her crazy ten-date ultimatum. Of course Mom was proud of Janessa. I told them about Chad and how kind and good he was. They were excited for me until I leveled them with the bad news. I couldn’t like Chad, no matter how great he was, because I’d finally met Matt Dawson, the closest thing to Mr. Darcy I could ever hope for.
“Mom, he’s everything I’ve always wanted. When he walked into the bank that first day, I knew it. I knew he was what I’d been waiting for.”
“How did you know so quickly?”
“He could be Matthew Macfadyen’s twin brother. He was tall and reserved and confident.” I noticed I was choosing my words very carefully to make Mom and Laura like Matt. The truth was he’d been tall, arrogant and snobby. He often still was, but those words wouldn’t sound right to Mom and Laura.
“Tell us more about Matt,” Mom said. I saw a look pass between Mom and Laura and I knew I had to make them understand why I liked him. I had to make them see he was perfect for me.
“He owns a bookstore called The Pink Salamander. It’s just a couple of blocks from the bank. He’s very smart and well read and we have interesting conversations. We get together almost every day for lunch and discuss news and politics. He’s really into healthy eating and so he orders lunch every day from The Eighth Natural Wonder. That’s a health-food restaurant across the street from the bookstore.”
“Is he a nice man?” Laura asked.
Why was that such a hard question? Was he nice? He certainly wasn’t the nicest man I’d ever met. But he wasn’t intentionally cruel. Just honest.
Wow. That wasn’t much of a recommendation. “He’s kind of serious and aloof until you get to know him,” I said. “But he’s nice to me.”
“Nice sounds so boring,” Laura said, “but it’s not. Kindness is what counts. I know when I’m tired or sick”—she patted her three-month pregnant stomach—“I don’t care if James is attractive or smart at all. I just care if he’s good to me.”
“I should tell
Janessa I can’t do this anymore,” I said with resolve. “It isn’t fair to Chad.” Again, Mom and Laura exchanged a look. “What? You think I should finish out the ten dates?”
Mom picked her words carefully. “Honey, I don’t know either of these guys so it’s hard for me to say. Does Chad know about Janessa’s dating plan?”
“No.”
“And he keeps asking you out?”
“Yes.”
“Then he must be doing it because he wants to,” she said.
Tears stung the corners of my eyes. “I know, Mom. That’s the problem. I can tell he really likes me and it isn’t fair to lead him on.”
“Have Chad or Matt said anything about dating exclusively?” Laura asked.
“No.”
“Then stop worrying so much.” Mom stroked my hair. “You deserve to have enough time to decide what’s best for you. Until one of them asks for more, you’re not doing anything wrong by dating both of them.”
“But I know what I want,” I said.
“Are you sure?” Laura asked.
“I’m positive.”
“Don’t cut off Chad until Matt gives you a reason to,” Mom said. She wiped the tears that had spilled onto my cheeks. “Okay?”
I nodded and picked up my phone.
LIZZIE: LOOKING FORWARD TO THE SWIM MEET. HAPPY THANKSGIVING. BE SURE TO EAT LOTS OF PIE.
* * *
I didn’t hear from Matt over the Thanksgiving weekend. I buried my disappointment by reminding myself he’d gone to Arizona to be with his family, so he was probably very busy. When he came through the line at the bank the Monday after Thanksgiving, it was business as usual until I handed him his bank bag.
“Are we on for lunch?” I asked.
“I was planning on it,” he said.
Lunch was a travelogue of his trip to Arizona. I was a little disappointed when he said his trip had been slow-paced and relaxing. I wanted to tell him I’d hoped he’d call or text but I didn’t. I didn’t want to be one of those demanding girls.
“What did you eat for Thanksgiving dinner?” I asked. I wondered what vegetarians ate instead of turkey and sausage stuffing.
“I ate the same things you did, I’m sure.”
“You ate turkey?”
“I try to eat healthy but I’m not a strict vegetarian. I eat meat a few times a year.”
“Your mom was probably glad not to have to find a soy alternative to turkey.”
“My mom wouldn’t have had to worry about it. She had the meal catered.”
“Thanksgiving? Catered?” I couldn’t imagine Thanksgiving without cooking the turkey and making the pies.
Matt laughed. “Yes, Elizabeth. Even Thanksgiving. My mom doesn’t like to cook and since she can afford not to, she doesn’t.”
“I don’t even know what your Dad does,” I said.
“Dad owns a large construction company but Mom has money from way back. Her grandfather owned part of a railroad company. He made a fortune when he sold it. My share of the money is what bought this bookstore.”
Matt’s wealth explained why he carried himself so much like Mr. Darcy. He was like him in more ways than I had realized.
It was almost time to go back to work. I wrapped up my half-eaten stuffed pita.
“Elizabeth, we’re hosting a Christmas book event on the 21st. Three authors will be here to give presentations and sign books. Don’t worry, nothing too controversial. It’s going to be more like a reception. I was wondering if you’d like to come. As my date.”
“I’d love to.” Finally we were moving the direction I’d been hoping. “And I promise not to fight with any of your guests.”
Matt smiled. “I figured I could leave you unmuzzled at this event.”
We walked out onto the porch. Matt squeezed my shoulder. “I missed you, Elizabeth.”
I was glad.
* * *
I was next in line to pay for my swim meet ticket when someone grabbed my hand. I looked up to see Chad grinning at me. He pulled me past the woman at the table. “She’s with me.” The woman nodded. When we were inside the doors, he hugged me tightly. “Oh, it’s good to see you. Did you have a nice weekend?”
“It was great. I love Thanksgiving food.”
“I think you just love food, period.”
“You’re probably right,” I said.
“What are we eating tonight?”
“Why don’t you choose tonight? Surprise me.” We walked to the end of the bench I’d sat on before.
“Sorry you have to sit alone.”
“I really don’t mind.”
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too.”
The meet was a success. Taylor Kennedy took first place in both his races. It was hard to tell if he or Chad was more excited. Carter was sick but still managed to win his race by more than a body length. Mt. Hood won came in first and Chad grinned as he walked toward me after the meet.
“If you’re not in a hurry, let’s run to the grocery store. We can go to my place and make chicken Alfredo and garlic bread.”
“Mmm, that sounds delicious.”
We walked through the aisles of the grocery store, gathering ingredients. We added a carton of toasted almond fudge ice cream and then drove to Chad’s house.
I deboned the rotisserie chicken and toasted the garlic bread while he made the sauce and cooked the noodles.
“Tell me about your Thanksgiving,” I said.
“It was the usual. Grandma—the one who gave me that lovely couch—came from Seattle. Allison was home from college. Mom’s a great cook, but Dad always does the turkey. It was a good weekend.”
I set the small, square table in the kitchen with plates on opposite sides. After I pulled the garlic bread out of the oven, I discovered Chad had moved one of the table settings so now they were kitty corner to each other. Chad gave me a mischievous smile when I looked at him.
Dinner was good and the conversation was even better. We talked about our families, food, and movies. We debated whether Batman or Spiderman was the better movie franchise. Somehow we evolved into a discussion about his grandpa’s losing battle with cancer. Chad had been in college when his mom called him with the news. “Grandpa had gone to the doctor with a nagging headache,” Chad explained. “A few tests later, they knew he wasn’t going to live more than a month or so.
“It was terrible. I got in the car and drove straight there. I spent three days there with him and Grandma. They’d given Grandpa something for the pain so he seemed almost normal. We went to a Washington Huskies football game and we watched several John Wayne movies since they were Grandpa’s favorites. The day I had to leave to go back to school, Grandpa took me into the garage and gave me his tool chest. I still get a little choked up when I use one of Grandpa’s tools on this house.”
I couldn’t help it. I reached out and put my hand on Chad’s arm. He looked at my hand and covered it with his. “That was the last time I saw Grandpa alive. He called me the day before he died and said, ‘Well Chad, I think this is it.’ I hardly recognized his voice. I told him I wanted to come back up to see him and he said no. He didn’t want me to remember him confined to his bed. He said to remember him the way he was when I’d been there a few weeks earlier, so I didn’t go back until the funeral. It was hard.”
“I’m sorry, Chad. He sounds like a wonderful man.”
“He was.” We were quiet for a moment. I looked down at my hand on Chad’s arm. It had been a mistake to put it there. I wanted to do right by Chad and it was getting harder and harder to keep things light and casual. I meant to move my hand. I really did. And then I didn’t have to, because Chad moved both of his hands. One arm still rested on the table but the other came up behind my neck, under my hair. Slowly he pulled me close. I could have pulled away, but I didn’t. Instead I let him kiss me. Even then, I meant to pull away, but my heart was racing and his lips felt so nice I didn’t want to move. So I kissed him back instead. And then he r
ested his forehead against mine, his hand still behind my neck and told me I was amazing. So I put my arms around him and kissed him again.
After we kissed, we ate ice cream. I hardly tasted it because I couldn’t decide if I should kiss Chad again or tell him we should never see each other again. When he took me home, I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him, shutting out every thought except his lips and his arms around me. Then I went inside and cried myself to sleep because I was falling for the wrong man and I had to do something about it before I devastated one of the best people I’d ever met and ruined my chance with the one I’d been waiting for six years.
Chapter Eleven
“Did you see the new episode of Crimson and Clover last night?” Matt asked.
“I wasn’t home last night. Was it good?”
“I laughed through the whole thing.” I’d have liked to see that. Laugher was a rare commodity when it came to Matt. “Where were you?”
“Mt. Hood High had a swim meet.”
“Do you know someone on the team?”
“The coach is my friend.” Something about that answer felt dishonest.
“What’s her name?”
“It’s not a her. His name is Chad.”
Matt looked at me for a long moment. I hoped my face didn’t look as flushed as it suddenly felt.
After an awkward pause our lunch conversation continued as usual. Matt shared the plotline of the sitcom he’d watched and we talked about a robbery that had taken place just a few blocks from the bookstore.
Matt walked me out to the front porch when it was time for me to return to work.
“Do you have a swim meet on Thursday?” Matt asked. The question had an edge to it.
“No.”
“Let’s go out to dinner. Somewhere nice.”
“That would be great,” I said.
* * *
On Thursday I sat in one of Delia’s boring training meetings. It had been going on all day. I hadn’t seen Matt when he came in for cash that morning because temporary tellers were filling in for us. When lunch arrived, Delia handed us waxed-paper-wrapped sandwiches and I realized we were eating lunch catered by The Eighth Natural Wonder. Was everyone conspiring against me?