“Everything okay?” he asked as soon as he picked up the phone.
“It’s fine,” I said. “I think. Except for the parts that aren’t.”
“What’s going on, Pepper?” he asked, and I loved hearing the concern in his voice, the tone that said, “I’m totally focused on you, daughter.”
“I had a bad night with Tanner.”
“Sorry to hear that. What happened?”
I swear, talking to my dad is better for the soul than even the most magical chicken soup. “He found out that I’m Indie Girl,” I said. “It didn’t go well.”
“Want to tell me the details?” he asked, his voice gentle.
With a hiccup that betrayed my tenuous grip on my emotions, I explained the whole evening to him, feeling better the closer I got to the end because I knew my dad would tell me what to do. I could breathe again without feeling a heavy weight on my chest.
When I finished, he was silent for a long moment. “What are you going to do?” he asked.
“I was hoping you would help me figure that out,” I said. “Am I too old to be calling you and asking you for advice about boys?”
I could hear the smile in his voice when he answered. “Of course not,” he said. “But are you old enough to accept things you might not want to hear?”
I paused. “No.” Then I sighed. “Yes.”
“Good girl,” he said. “How much of your hesitation with Tanner is because of Landon? Are you still mourning that relationship?”
I thought about it. “No,” I answered. “I’ve been figuring that out lately. Landon never would have been the right guy for me. We want different things, and no matter how much I loved him, in the end, it wouldn’t have been enough.”
“Pepper,” he said, his tone gentle again, “how much did you really love him?”
The question caught me off guard. “A lot,” I said.
“A lot,” my dad repeated. He sounded thoughtful. “How do you know?”
Again, I had to grope my way toward an answer. “Because it took so long to get over him.”
“Hmm. Let’s try a different question. Why did you love him?”
I lifted the phone away to stare at it for a moment. These were not the loving words of encouragement I had called to hear. These were hard, uncomfortable questions. But he had warned me. I thought about the why. I had loved being with Landon because he’d made me feel like, for the first time, I wasn’t flying under the radar like I had all the way through high school. He’d acted like my quirks were cool. I’d liked the way other people, especially other girls, had looked at us with a touch of envy when we were together. Each jealous look stroked my ego. I’d liked knowing that I always had someone to hang out with on the weekends, a permanent movie date, and a guaranteed kiss every Valentine’s and New Year’s. I’d liked being part of a couple, being a part of Landon-and-Pepper.
I explained all that to my dad as best I could and waited for his verdict. He asked another question instead.
“Why did Landon love you?”
“I don’t know, Dad. Maybe he didn’t. We’d be married if he had.”
“Try to come up with an answer, Pepper.”
I thought some more. The truth was, I’d spent many months after our engagement had fallen apart asking myself why he didn’t love me enough. I hadn’t focused much on why he had loved me in the first place. I’d assumed he didn’t, or I wouldn’t be heartbroken. I asked myself the question grudgingly. Why had Landon loved me?
“I made him laugh,” I finally said. “He liked my style. He liked that I’m a good girl. He thought we were a good team.”
“Good,” my dad said. “Was it true? Were you a good team?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I used to think so.” I struggled to come up with an analogy. “We weren’t a team like doubles tennis, where you both work equally hard and share the rewards. It was more like he was the star and I was his ball girl.”
“Did that bother you?”
“Not then. Now it does.” I dropped my forehead to the table and stared at the scuffed tile between my shoes. “When are you going to tell me what to do about Tanner?”
“I’m not,” he said.
I bolted up. “But—”
“Because I’m not clear on what you want from him. I’m trying to figure that out. More importantly, I think you’re trying to figure that out. So let’s go there next. I have the same questions. You care about Tanner. Why?”
“Because he’s a good man,” I said. I didn’t even have to think about it, and there was no point denying to my dad how invested I already was in Tanner. I wouldn’t be near tears on the phone with him if I weren’t. “He treats his family with respect, and he treats me with respect too; he works hard; he makes me laugh; I like his sense of adventure; he has integrity—”
I broke off when I heard my dad laughing. “What?” I demanded.
“Nothing. Continue.”
“No. That was everything.” Except it wasn’t. I could have kept going.
“Obviously, Tanner cares about you, or your unwillingness to commit to him wouldn’t bother him,” he said.
“That could just be his ego,” I said.
“Do you believe that?”
I sighed. “No.” The truth was bittersweet.
“So Tanner cares about you. Why?”
“Honestly? I have no idea.” He should have washed his hands of me a long time ago. Like right after our very first interview. Heaven knows I hadn’t done much since then to impress him. And yet . . .
“All the things you mentioned that Landon loved about you were things that individually are fine, but taken together, they add up to something different. Can you see what it says about your relationship?”
I considered the question. My dad was pointing me toward a realization I’d made once before. “All the things Landon loved about me were things that reflected back on him,” I said. “They were things that either made him feel better about himself or that were convenient for him.” The convenience part still stung.
“You were never a typical girl, Pepper,” my dad said, his voice so warm it felt like a hug. “I watched you struggle through high school to understand why you didn’t get all the dates the other girls did and why no one ever noticed you. But you missed something key. They all noticed you. Especially the boys. But they didn’t know what to do with you.”
“Because I’m such a freak?”
He laughed. “Far from it. But you were different then, and you’re different now. You don’t jump on all the latest trends or do your hair like everyone else or even like a lot of the same things that other people do. Some people act different to make a point. They refuse to let people reject them, so they choose a lifestyle or persona that allows them to say, ‘You’re rejecting me because you can’t handle what I like or how I look, not me personally.’ You genuinely are different, but you’ve had a hard time embracing that because you’re afraid it will separate you from other people. Instead of letting people love you for your true nature and allowing that to act as a natural filter to sift out the people who wouldn’t really appreciate you, you buried yourself in a relationship with Landon because it signified acceptance.”
Whoa. Deep thoughts for my sleep-deprived brain. I shook my head to clear it, trying to process my dad’s words.
“Pepper?”
“I’m here.”
“Am I overloading you?” he asked.
“No.” I said. “Or . . . maybe a little bit.”
“Everything I’m telling you is an opinion. It’s a theory. Granted, it’s backed by a lot of experience and a PhD, but it’s still a theory.”
I laughed. “I’d take your theories over anyone else’s anytime.”
“Then consider this,” he said. “You buried yourself in your relationship with Landon because he swallowed you up in his identity, and that was far more comfortable for you than trying to be a cornflower in a field full of daisies.”
“At least you di
dn’t call me a pansy even if I was acting like one,” I said.
He chuckled. “I think you figured it out on your own and fixed it. You’re not with Landon anymore. You must have learned something. He’s not a bad guy, but he was never the right guy for you. Which reminds me. You’re avoiding my original question. Why does Tanner care about you?”
“I don’t want to speak for him,” I said, hedging. “He’s never told me his reasons.”
“You can guess. It’s important for you to answer this question. If you feel silly giving me an answer out loud, you should at least consider it seriously for yourself. Will you do that? I think it will help clear up some of your confusion.”
“I can do that. But I was hoping you would clear up all my confusion,” I wheedled. “Just tell me how to fix things with Tanner.”
“You have to decide what you want from all this first,” he said. “If you figure that part out, then the rest will come to you. Call me if you need anything else though. I’m here for you.”
“I know, Dad. That’s why I love you.” I ended the call and sat up straighter in my chair. I’d come into work much earlier than I’d needed to, and I wasn’t getting much done. I needed to reboot my day, and I couldn’t do that in the office. With new determination, I headed back to my desk and shoved my things back into my messenger bag, smiling in response to Chantelle’s look of concern.
“I’m all right,” I told her. “But I need to think. I’m going to head out for a while and clear my head.”
“Sure. Maybe I’ll catch you later.”
I headed out the door and had just reached the stairs when she called my name.
“Pepper.”
I stopped in surprise and waited for her to catch up.
“When I asked what you would do if you had the chance to get out of the column and still keep your job, it wasn’t an idle question. I’m pretty sure I know how you can do it, but you might not like it. Let me know if you want to talk about it.”
I studied her for a minute then nodded. “I will.”
She smiled and headed back to the office. I tossed my stuff in the backseat of The Zuke and started it up, anxious to find a space to decompress. A few of the stray thoughts careening around my brain since the disastrous conversation with Tanner the night before were calming down and looking suspiciously like insights. I wanted to tackle them without any distractions so I could wrestle my way to an answer. No more limbo. I’d lived in it for seven months after Landon. I couldn’t go back to self-pity and stagnation.
My dad had prescribed me a whole year of thank you notes, but it had only taken four months for his cure to work. I was changing, and I needed to figure out what the new Pepper would do.
Dear Hailey,
I don’t know how you feel about your job. Maybe it’s not that fun working at Straws, or maybe being the counter girl at a café is just your cup of tea. Or coffee. Or milk. But if I had to guess, I’d say you probably like it because you’re always cheerful and friendly to everyone who comes in.
I stopped in the other day for a cookie and a minute of peace and quiet on a day when I desperately needed it. I don’t know if you’ve ever had a day where you feel so fragile that you’re sure even a loud sound could break you. But it was one of those days. So I stepped in for some comfort food and thinking time, and you, with your kind smile and thoughtful “How are you?,” helped me find both. Because instead of pretending not to notice when I teared up at your question, you asked again, like you really meant it.
I’ve managed a little restaurant like yours. I know it’s hard to hang on to a positive outlook after a long morning shift of dealing with customers. But just know that sometimes your friendliness and courtesy go way beyond providing your customers with a pleasant café experience. You can actually lift a spirit. That’s what you did for me. I owe you thanks for a peaceful hour of reprieve in an otherwise really cruddy morning.
Sincerely,
Pepper
Chapter 18
Forty-five minutes later, I perched on the flat top of a large boulder in Mill Creek Canyon, overlooking the idyllic canyon stream. Besides one jogger and two dog walkers, I had the place to myself. I soaked up the sun, letting the confusion and frustration of the previous night evaporate in its mellow heat. I could hear the hustle and jive of chipmunks hurrying about their business on the grassy banks, and soon even that sound blended into the soothing rush of the water over creek stones. With a silent prayer for a clear mind and heart, I lay back and stared at a cloud while I sorted through the facts.
Even though it was late morning, I still hadn’t heard from Tanner. That hurt.
It hurt because I liked Tanner. A lot.
More than a lot.
I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath.
“I’m in love with Tanner Graham.”
Forcing myself to say it out loud prompted my heart to give an extra thump, but my head didn’t explode. I took that as a good sign. I did a little internal poking around to see what kind of space the word love took up.
I felt bigger inside, in a good way, like when you wake up from a nap and the more you stretch, the better and more awake you feel.
So.
I love Tanner Graham? Yes. A witness of the truth tickled my mind. Yes.
And I love him for all the reasons I told my dad. His loyalty and kindness and integrity. His intelligence and humor and friendship. For the way he curls my toes when he kisses me.
Heck, for the way he curls my toes just by smiling.
Does Tanner love me?
He cares for me, definitely. He wants to take our relationship to the next level, to figure out what our future together holds. That says a lot.
Why does he care for me? That was the stumper my dad had asked me, and as stupid as I felt trying to answer the question, I took another deep breath, stared back up at the cloud, and answered it anyway.
Tanner likes my sense of humor. He likes my brain. He thinks I have talent. He likes how I treat my family. He likes talking over his days with me. He likes hearing what I think about pretty much everything. He likes my testimony. He likes kissing me. A lot.
I am in no way convenient to him. He’s done his best to encourage my writing and support my goal of being a journalist.
So what’s the problem?
I sighed and sat up. He had asked if I cared more about my job than him, and it had offended me. And that was stupid because I would die a little inside if I thought his job were more important than me. It was fair for him to hope that he mattered more than the magazine.
He hadn’t even asked me to give it up. He understood that I was stuck with the column and risked losing my job if I dropped it. He didn’t like it, but he hadn’t asked me to drop it all for him. What he’d done was ask me to be honest about my feelings: did the magazine matter more than he did?
And I’d given him no answer at all. In the moment, I’d been too confused and defensive to come up with an answer, and then silence had fallen between us and had grown louder by the minute. At the moment, with my inert cell phone by my side, the silence was deafening.
I itched to snap up the phone and dial him, to bridge the gap. But I still hesitated.
Tanner wasn’t Landon. And I had changed. Had I changed enough? Because if I hadn’t, I’d end up swallowed up in Tanner before I realized it, deferring the dream I had for myself in order to make our relationship work. Tanner was worth sacrificing for, but if I lost me in all of it, we were doomed to fail.
My cell phone rang, and I snatched it up, relieved when I saw his name on the screen.
His hello was subdued.
“Did you get my messages?” I asked. “I think it was three voice mails, two texts, and an e-mail. I was going to sit outside on your doorstep this morning until you talked to me too, but then I decided to use that in case of an emergency.” I winced, hoping my joke came off as funny, not pathetic.
“I got them,” he said, sounding tired. “I’m sorry I didn’t
get back to you sooner. I’ve been trying to sort through everything.”
“I’ve been doing the same,” I said.
“Did you come up with anything yet?”
Yeah. I’m in love with you. No way was I saying that out loud. “I keep going in circles, to tell the truth. I’m not even sure where we left things last night.”
“I know,” he said. He was quiet for a minute. Or maybe even half that, but it felt like forever. “I guess I can only speak for me. This is where I’m at. I would never ask you to give up your job. But I can’t handle you dating other guys. I’ve never thought of myself as the jealous type, but I can’t take it. I just can’t. Even knowing you don’t want to be there with them doesn’t make it better. It would take a much bigger guy than me to be okay with it, I think.”
“I get it,” I said. “I totally do. I wouldn’t like it if you were dating a ton of other girls.”
He sighed. “That’s good to know, but this is where I get stuck. Asking you to quit the column is the same as asking you to give your job up, and I can’t be that jerk. So I don’t know where to go from there. We can’t go forward as it is. There’s no going back. And that’s where I am. Kind of nowhere.”
“I’ve never told you about my past relationship—as in singular. As in only one,” I said, drawing my knees up and wrapping my free arm around them. “I was engaged. We broke up almost a year ago, and we’d been together for four years before that. I think I’m trying to sort through some of that baggage.”
There was another long silence from him. When he spoke, I could hear surprise in his voice. “I figured your relationship aversion had to come from somewhere, but I had no idea it would be on that level.”
“Does that freak you out?”
“I feel like when you’re going down the stairs and you miss a step so you end up taking two and scaring yourself a little,” he said.
“It gets worse,” I admitted. “Do you want to hear it?”
“I guess I need to,” he said.
“I was engaged to Landon Scott.”
After a beat he said, “You’re kidding.”
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