By the time I got around to the other side of the garage, he was almost at the top of the stairs. I knew it was Zack. I'd already got a glimpse of the nice truck in the driveway, but his perfect male body, even from behind, was unmistakable. I cringed at the thought of talking to him in the state I was in. I'd barely even glanced in a mirror that morning. But my only other option was to let him knock and wake up my sister.
"Hey!" I called from the bottom of the stairs.
He turned to face me, bracing himself on the iron rail. "Hey!" he said looking down at me with a smile.
I had a handful of weeds in one hand and the other was covered in dirt. I saw him glance at them curiously, so I lifted them slightly. "I'm pulling weeds over here in the flowerbed," I said with a flick of my head.
He started down the stairs. "Need some help?"
I stood there, not knowing what to say for a second, and before I knew it, he was standing next to me wearing that same smile that made me weak in the knees.
"Oh, no," I said, trying to seem unaffected. "There's not really much to do. I'm just spacing out down here while Lexi's sleeping upstairs."
"Can I take you somewhere for coffee," he asked.
I let out a little laugh. It had been over two months since this ordeal started and while I wasn't feeling as bad as I was at one point when I wanted to go to the hospital every other day, I still couldn't imagine doing every day things like going out to get a cup of coffee for fun.
"I can't really do coffee," I said regretfully. "At least not more than a few sips at a time." I motioned to my chest. "It messes with my adrenaline."
"What about food?" he said smiling. "Can you eat food?"
I took a deep breath. I had been out of the house, but only to get fresh air or run errands.
"Come on, it'll do you some good," he said sensing my hesitation.
I looked down at my pajama pants and t-shirt with a sigh.
"Just go upstairs and get dressed," he said. "Nothing fancy. We'll just go sit at a diner so we don't wake your sister."
For whatever reason I just obeyed him without argument. "I'll be right back," I said. I tossed the weeds I was holding behind a bush before starting up the stairs.
"What are you doing?" Lexi said sleepily when I was on my way out of the bedroom a few minutes later.
"I'm going to grab something to eat."
She sat up onto her elbows. "Really?" she asked sounding surprised. "Where?"
"I don’t know. That guy Zack came by and asked if I wanted to get breakfast. I thought it was good timing so you could sleep."
"Seriously?" she asked sitting up straighter and pulling the covers up over her chest. "He's here?"
"He's in the driveway," I said.
She smiled and wiggled her eyebrows as if it were a real date and could actually amount to something. I shook my head and rolled my eyes at her.
"Can you bring me a muffin or something?" she asked. "I think I ate the last of the cereal last night."
"Yeah," I said. I knew she wanted eggs and bacon and was just trying not to be too much trouble. "I was already planning on bringing you something back."
She plopped back onto the bed. "Thanks! Hey Laney," she said without looking at me.
"Yeah?"
"Turn over and shake your hair to fluff it up a little. And put on a little lip gloss while you're at it."
I sighed as if I was annoyed, but did exactly as she instructed. "Love you," I said on my way out.
"Love you," she called.
"See, that wasn't so hard," Zack said, watching me walk down the stairs. "You look like a million bucks."
I laughed. "They were right, you could run for office."
"Who said that?" he asked.
"Freddy and Peter that day when they were installing the windows."
Zack laughed. "But I wasn't just flattering you."
I didn't respond to that since I figured he was just being nice. "I never got to see those windows," I said.
"Seriously? I thought you were there with them the whole time they were installing."
"I got sick that morning. I didn't see the final one go up."
"Oh man, that's a shame. They look amazing. You should come by and see them."
"I'll have to do that once I'm over all this," I said.
He opened the door of the truck for me. It was the first time that had ever happened, and I smiled wondering why there weren't more gentlemen in the world. He closed the door, and I stared at the dashboard thinking about how complicated all the controls looked.
"Are you guys having some work done?" he asked as he got into the driver's seat and started the ignition.
"What do you mean?"
He pointed at my truck and I let out an uncontrollable giggle. "That's my truck," I said. He put on the brakes long enough to focus his attention on the truck for a second, then he looked at me with a curious smile. "Where do you get something like that?" he asked.
"My uncle gave it to me," I said. "He owns an electrical company up in Washington, and he didn't want Lexi and me coming down here without a way to get around."
"I've never known anyone to drive one of those," he said. "I bet it'll come in handy sometimes."
I laughed. "If I ever need to get a job with the electric company."
"Mom said she talked to Peter about you," he said changing the subject. "Apparently, he thinks you're really talented."
He'd never told me that. In fact, I'd barely even talked to him since I'd been sick and I just assumed he really didn't care whether or not I was coming back.
"That's sweet," I said. "He's obviously a master, so a compliment means a lot coming from him."
"Do you have any pictures of your work?" he asked.
I shook my head. "Not with me. I could probably dig up some at home, but they're really not that big of a deal. I'm just a beginner."
In my head, I wondered if I'd ever touch glass again, but I didn't say that. "I haven't worked at all since I got sick," I said. "It's hard to know where to start."
"Where'd you start before you got sick?"
"I met a lady who showed me the ropes. She had a studio space in her house—tiny compared to Mr. Craig's. But she showed me what she could about making my sketches come to life."
"So you sketch down an idea on paper and then make it out of glass?" he said. "I never knew that's how it worked."
"I'm honestly not sure if that's how it works for all artists," I said. "I didn't get to know Peter enough to learn his methods. But that's what I do. Or that's what I did. I haven't even sketched anything since I got sick."
"What exactly made you sick?" he asked.
I spent the rest of the drive describing to him that since I took antibiotics over two months ago, I've been unexplainably sick. I told him how it felt like something was squeezing my insides from my throat to my gut, and explained to him how I not so affectionately referred to it as "the grip".
I shared the list of symptoms I could remember off the top of my head and explained how they shift from one to another and how they come and go with no rhyme or reason. I told him taking medicine or supplements only seemed to make me sicker. I told him it was completely life altering for me, but still didn't show up on any medical test.
"Do you feel anything now?" he asked as we walked into the diner. "I feel the grip in my chest right now, but not too bad. I'm also dizzy." I gave him a reassuring smile. "But don't worry, I'm not gonna pass out or anything."
We sat across from each other at a small booth and a waitress came to give us menus and take our drink order. We sat in silence, checking out the menu for a minute after she walked away. I wanted to ask why we were here—why he came over, but I couldn't think of a nice way to put it.
"Were you just in the neighborhood?" I said, finally.
He looked up from his menu with a half-smile. "No." He sat there as if that was all he was planning on saying.
"Well, what, uh, why'd… Did you just come by to see how I was feel
ing?" I asked tentatively.
He seemed amused at the way I squirmed to get the question out. "Don't act like you don't know you're in trouble," he said.
My eyes widened. "What'd I do?"
"You didn't cash that check I gave you."
"It's only been a few days," I said even though I wasn't planning on cashing it at all.
He shrugged. "I felt bad about giving you a check after I left anyway," he said. "I have cash in the truck. That's why I came by."
I closed my eyes and shook my head imperceptibly thinking how weird it was that he was forcing money on me.
"We've already had this conversation," he said, noticing the stubbornness rise to the surface. He picked up his menu again. "Let's just not talk about it. I'd like to sit here and enjoy some breakfast with you if you don't mind."
My physical symptoms were constantly with me. No matter how good I felt during a moment of relief, there was always an underlying feeling that something was still wrong with my body. That being said, I managed to ignore them while I was at that diner with Zack. It was the first time that had happened since late May, and it felt really good. In spite of him being so flawless, he was incredibly down to earth and easy to talk to.
It crossed my mind to wonder if he had a girlfriend and if so, how she would feel about him taking me out to eat. That thought was fleeting, however, since Zack's feelings toward me were only that of a kind person showing goodwill to someone he thought needed help.
We shared easy conversation for about an hour while we ate. I didn't feel the need to try to impress him, so being myself was effortless. We shared a similar sense of humor and found it easy to laugh at random observations around the diner. My wit and humor was something that went out the door with the antibiotics, but right then my thinking was pretty clear, which meant I was able to come up with a few quick-witted remarks. I was almost my old self—like back in the hardware store when I'd give Jerry and the guys a hard time. I didn't know if I'd ever get that part of my brain back, and it felt wonderful, if even for a few minutes.
I ordered Lexi some breakfast to go, and once the waitress brought it, we left. I tried to make Zack let me pay for my part, but he just looked at me like I was being ridiculous and handed the waitress cash.
We hadn't talked about unwanted charity, or sickness, or rape, or anything else that would make me feel uncomfortable, and I left the diner wearing the smile that had been absent from my face for over two months.
Once we were settled in the truck, he reached into the console and pulled out an envelope. I could tell by the thickness of it that there was a ton of cash inside—it must have been the full five thousand that he tried to make me take earlier.
He started the truck and proceeded to back out, and I sat there with the envelope in my lap. "Listen," I said, in a last-ditch effort to make him stop this madness. "I know you're trying to be nice to me and that's really amazing of you, but I can't let you give me this."
He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.
"You don't know me," I said. "I've done things that would shock you, and your mom, and your whole church. I'm really not deserving of this kind of generosity."
A few seconds of silence passed. "Shock me," he said.
"What?" I asked.
"Tell me what you could have possibly done that's so shocking."
There was just no way I was going to be able to let this stranger pay for the crazy amount of medical bills I'd accumulated, much less give me a pile of cash on top of that. I just couldn't do it. I wanted it to be over and done with. I wanted him to drop me off at my apartment and take his money, and his kindness, and his gorgeous face with him.
"I stabbed a man," I said in a matter of fact tone.
He looked over the console at me with a slightly cautious expression.
"A few months ago, when we were moving here. I stabbed a man in the back with a knife," I explained. "He might be dead for all I know."
I stared at my lap for a few seconds and then gently took the envelope of money and placed it onto the console between us.
Chapter 13
I'd just told Zack Martin I stabbed a man.
I came right out and said it.
It was the first time I told a single soul, and I felt relieved and terrified at the same time. We were parked in front of my apartment, and I set the envelope of cash on the console between us and gingerly reached for the door handle. My voice came out little more than a whisper. "Thank you for breakfast." I paused for a second. "Thank you for everything." I gave the handle a pull, and the door popped open in that gentle way brand new vehicles did.
"Hang on a second," he said. His long body came across my lap and he grabbed the handle with my hand still on it. In one motion, he opened it and shut it again. "You can't just say something like that and get out of the truck," he said, sitting up.
I could see out of the corner of my eye that he was looking at me, but I stared at the dash. "I know it probably makes me sound crazy," I said, "and I'm not. At least I wasn't before I took those antibiotics. Anyway, I just wanted to make a point that you don't even know me."
"I'm trying to," he said.
I looked at him with a skeptical expression. "Why?"
"Because I want to help you. And because I like you."
I sighed and smiled patiently at him. "I don't think I deserve that help."
"Well, I already explained to you that I think you do. And we already established that I'm impossibly stubborn." He paused. "Why don't you tell me what happened with the knife."
"Seriously?" I asked in disbelief. "Is it not enough for you to know that I stabbed a man in the back?" I looked at him and he just stared at me with a blank expression and didn't respond. "How about if I tell you that part of me hopes he died?" Again, he just stared at me. "How about if I tell you that the biggest regret I have about doing it is that I lost my favorite pocket knife?" I could feel tears starting to rise to my eyes, and I begged myself to hold them at bay. "Thank you for the breakfast," I said. I lifted the doggie bag that had been sitting on my lap. "I need to get this inside to Lexi."
He put a hand on my arm. "Laney, please don't make me go," he said. "I don't know what that guy did to deserve your favorite pocket knife in his back, but from the sound of what you're saying, he did deserve it."
Tears stung my eyes and I stared at the roof of the truck for a second to hold them in.
"I know you're trying to get me to leave, but I really don't want to. Why don't you bring Lexi her breakfast and then come back down here and talk to me for a few minutes?"
I looked at him—my eyes shining with unshed tears. "I don’t feel good. I know it's hard for you to understand because I've been fine the whole time, but my symptoms come in waves, and right now I just feel like going inside and spacing out on the TV."
"Can I come sit next to you?" he asked. "We won't even talk."
I shook my head at him. "You are impossible." I paused but then offered him a half smile. "I guess you can come up for a few minutes if you want." I pointed at the envelope. "But you can't bring that money, and you can't say anything about the stabbing. Lexi doesn't know about it."
He held up his hands in surrender. "I won't say a word," he said.
I opened the door and headed for the stairs with Zack following right behind me. We were only halfway up when I turned around and whispered, "I don’t hope he died, by the way. Part of me wishes I was tough enough to hope he did, but I don't. Even though I hate him and maybe even wish someone else would kill him, truth is I hope I didn't."
Zack was staring at me like he was taking it all in as I turned and continued walking up the stairs. He followed. Lexi was standing in the kitchen with her hands around a coffee mug when I walked in.
"Zack's with me," I said before she could ask how it went. "We're just gonna watch a little TV."
"Oh, cool. Hey Zack!" she said. She waved at him and I turned to see him smile and wave back.
"Good morning, Lexi."
"Zack brought us breakfast," I said. I crossed to the kitchen and set the bag on the bar next to her.
"Thanks Zack!" she looked at me. "What'd you guys get me?"
"Two eggs over medium with toast and extra bacon."
"Yessss!" she said beaming.
"And two pancakes," I added.
"You guys are the best!"
She hummed an excited tune as she began to dig in the bag. Zack had already taken off his shoes and was in the process of sitting on the couch. "You're welcome," he said groaning from fullness as he sat.
Lexi had the television on, but I had no idea what she was watching because it was a commercial. I went to the sink to wash my hands before sitting on the couch.
"How'd it go?" she whispered.
I glanced at him to see that he wasn't paying attention to us. "Good. I was feeling good pretty much the whole time we were there."
"Do you like him?" she asked.
"Not like that," I said checking again to make sure he was preoccupied.
"Why not?" she asked.
"Because it's not like that," I said. "We'll talk about it when he leaves."
I walked over to the living room and grabbed the remote from the coffee table before sitting next to him. "Do you care if I change the channel?" I yelled to Lexi.
"No, but it's on Family Feud," she said with a mouth full of food. I sat the remote on the coffee table and relaxed in the spot next to Zack.
"I hope you don't mind Family Feud," I said.
"I hope you don’t mind me knowing all the number one answers before they say them," he said cracking his knuckles.
I laughed and so did Lexi who heard him from the kitchen. We watched that episode and the next one. We made small talk during some of the commercials, but he seemed content to sit with me in silence. Lexi was eating during the first episode, but she joined us afterward. She and Zack spoke a little, but I was too focused on my returned symptoms to pay attention to what they were saying. My ears were stopped up and I had started to feel anxiety. I wasn't feeling anxious about Zack being there or about him making easy conversation with my sister. It was purely symptomatic. I recognized it for what it was and knew I just had to deal with it till it went away.
Something of a Storm (All in Good Time Book 1) Page 9