“They get paid extra, you know.”
“I heard her telling Mr. Ellis she didn’t care about the money.”
It took as little as this conversation, seeing two younger girls snapping towels at each other outside the shower room, the sound of a high-pitched giggle from nearby, to pierce Erin’s heart. It was all so painfully familiar.
She hurriedly fastened the buckle on her sandals and shoved her suit, goggles and wet towel in the tote. She had to get out of here.
Since she was apparently invisible to the girls, they kept talking. “Last year, she said she’d watch films and, you know, study skills. So maybe...”
“Oh, sure.”
A shriek of laughter came from the other side of the bank of lockers. Erin slammed hers shut. The clang was achingly familiar, as were the bits of other conversations drifting her way.
I miss this.
Forcing an apologetic smile, she slipped by and went to the row of mirrors. She was lucky to get one. The younger girls headed out with wet hair, like she was planning to, but the older ones waited in line for outlets to plug in their hair dryers. Some were carefully applying makeup, because God forbid a hot guy should see them without.
The ache she felt was bittersweet. She could help the girls who really did want to play the game well. Memories flickered like a campfire leaping to life. The laughter, the frustration, the childish moments and the graceful, mature ones. Even though it hurt, Erin was glad. She didn’t want to forget the girls, ever.
She hadn’t thought in a long while about the good times with her team.
If she coached at the high school level, she wouldn’t drive to games; the district would provide bus transportation.
It’s too soon.
In another year, she might think about applying to coach. Or even teach a class or two at the community college. Not too big a commitment.
But not yet.
Given the emotions that had pummeled her, Erin’s enthusiasm for grocery shopping had waned by the time she reached the parking lot, but the pickings in her kitchen were getting skimpy, and she couldn’t imagine she’d jump out of bed in the morning and think, Wow, I can hardly wait to go to the grocery store!
Plus, she was working tomorrow afternoon.
So get it over with, she decided.
Sad to say, she never walked into Safeway without looking for Cole. Which was totally stupid, when she didn’t even know where his apartment was or if he was still working at that development between West Fork and Arlington. He could be living and working on the other side of the county by now.
Tonight, she nabbed a cart and started in the produce department, barely glancing at the checkout lanes. It wasn’t as if they’d be that busy after nine in the evening.
Except...there was Cole Meacham, unloading the contents of his cart onto the belt.
Was she hallucinating? Erin closed her eyes and opened them again. No, that was definitely him. She couldn’t mistake those shoulders, the muscles moving under a thin cotton tee, the power in the arms bared by short sleeves.
Transfixed, she stared hungrily. His hair had grown enough not to be spiky anymore. Instead, it was rumpled, as if he shoved his fingers through it. She would give anything to slip her fingers into his hair, feel the texture of it now. Have him turn, his sharp blue eyes locking on her, narrowing purposefully...
Dear God, what if he saw her gaping?
Her cheeks flamed with humiliation and she moved fast enough to make her cart wheels squeak, not slowing until she was mostly hidden behind a heap of bananas. Even then, she kept her back to him.
Erin grabbed bananas and red grapes. By the time she reached the lettuce, she knew he wouldn’t be able to see her if he happened to turn. Nobody was close enough to hear her whimper. Her heart hammered so hard and fast her head swam.
As much as she’d wanted to see him, she suddenly realized she couldn’t afford the stress. Maybe she should start driving farther away to do her shopping. The hours she worked at the library should be safe, except she’d have to decline shifts like this evening’s. She’d be smart to buy gas in the middle of a working day, when there was no way she’d run into him.
And here she’d thought she was doing so well.
She pulled herself together enough to continue shopping, although her choices were more random than they should have been. Usually she maintained a mental list of what she needed. Today, she found herself putting a bottle of extra virgin olive oil in her cart, even though she didn’t remember whether she needed it or not. And never mind pausing to make price comparisons.
She had to backtrack four aisles to get a carton of eggs she did need before she went to check out.
This was close to the longest day of the year, so the sun still hadn’t set. But the purplish-gray of dusk had deepened the color of the sky by the time she pushed the cart to her Cherokee. Thanks to her remote, the hatch door had already lifted when she stopped the cart. She started to pick up the first bags of groceries...and saw the man leaning against the fender.
“I thought that was you in there,” Cole said.
* * *
SEEING HER JUMP six inches, he regretted not waiting in plain sight. What, had he assumed that if she spotted him out here, she’d lurk inside the store however long it took for him to go away?
“I’m sorry,” he said, retreating a step. “I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s not dark yet, and...” And what? “I’m sorry,” he repeated.
Erin pressed a hand to her chest. “No, I should’ve seen you. I guess I was preoccupied.” She smiled, although he wasn’t convinced it was genuine. “How are you?” she asked.
“I’m good.” When she didn’t move, he took over the job of putting her groceries in the back of her SUV. “The job’s going well. Uh, I have an apartment not far from here. I could have walked, but I felt lazy.”
“That’s great.”
“How are you doing?”
“Oh, I’m fine.” This smile looked a little more...real. “Lottie drove over the other day to bring me a coffee cake, which even I have to admit was better than Nanna’s.”
“Lottie drove?” Guilt poked at him, because he’d never followed up on his concern. He’d meant to talk to Ryan and Michelle at least, and ask if they’d offer to pick up groceries for Lottie, or give her a lift. He knew Erin would’ve been willing if he’d said something.
“Well, it’s not as if she could walk that far. It was kind of scary to see, though. And when she backed out—” Erin’s shudder was theatrical.
“She’s afraid she’ll lose her independence if she has to give up driving.” Cole shook his head. “I told her the neighbors would take her to the store if she asked, and there’s Dial-A-Ride, but I understand her fear.”
“I do, too,” Erin said. “I’ll see if she wants to hitch a ride next time I shop. I’d be glad to drive her when she needs to do other errands, too.”
“That would be good.” He lowered the hatch door as she maneuvered the cart out of the way. Should he back off now? But he hadn’t gotten her out of his head in the five—no, almost six—weeks since he’d seen her, and he didn’t like that she hadn’t mentioned anything she was up to. Lottie, he thought, had been a diversion.
So, ask.
“You doing any more work on the house?”
She wrinkled her nose in that familiar way. “Not really. I’ve pretty much finished painting—yes, ceilings, too, which was an awful job—but I haven’t done anything about the moldings or the floors.” She hesitated, looking shy. “I’ve actually started a part-time job. Not so much for the money, just...to get me out. I’m clerking and helping with reference questions at the library. Only about half-time so far, but I feel useful.”
Even as he smiled and said something that must have been close to right, Cole felt things h
e didn’t totally recognize. Jealousy—but not quite. All he knew was that he wanted her to take those steps, but he hated that she’d done it all on her own. He’d have liked to hear about the jobs she’d applied for and why, her hesitations and hopes. He could’ve told her about his days, too—the occasional frustrations, the awkward attempts to make friends, his apprehension about possibly being laid off when the weather turned.
But his basic fears remained. He didn’t let himself ask whether she’d kept her promise to him. He didn’t say the words I miss you.
And he didn’t want to know if someone else was living in his apartment.
“Guess we’re both...” Cole paused, not sure how to finish what he’d started. Doing okay?
But Erin said, “Moving on?” This smile was definitely fake. “You’re right. We are. It was good to see you, Cole, but I’d better be getting home.”
When she reached for the cart, he took it from her. “I’ll take care of this. See you around.”
He had a softball-sized lump in his throat as he pushed the cart toward the closest return lane.
* * *
THE NEXT DAY, Cole made a point of getting to work fifteen minutes early. Tom Phillips’s truck was already parked outside the office trailer. Cole knocked lightly and stepped in.
Alone inside, Phillips sat scowling behind a computer. He looked up in surprise. “Meacham.” He rocked back in his chair, the frown lingering. “What can I do for you?”
“I need to take a couple hours off sometime in the next week or so.”
“Family?”
“No. I told you I want to take some classes at the community college.” At the other man’s nod, he said, “I’m way past the application deadline for fall quarter. I can’t figure out from the website when I’d have to apply for winter quarter. I need to sit down with an admissions officer and start the ball rolling.”
“You might be able to appeal and still get in for fall.”
“That’s my hope.” He smiled wryly. “I was out before the May deadline, but I didn’t have tuition money or transportation yet. That was a little too far ahead for me to plan.”
Phillips grimaced in apparent sympathy. “You have a good excuse.”
“A new and improved form of ‘the dog ate my homework’?”
He laughed outright, then said, “Just give me some notice of when you’ll be gone.” Then, humor absent, Phillips said, “You aiming for full-time?”
Cole shook his head. “An evening class or two. I need to work.”
“Fair enough.”
Should he ask about winter layoffs? The possibility had been preying on his mind, but this was too early to say anything, Cole decided. He should be grateful if Phillips just gave him a good recommendation if he laid him off.
Before he could leave, the boss said, “Since you’re here, anyway, let’s talk for a minute. Have a seat.”
Oh, shit. He managed a nod and lowered his butt onto a straight-backed chair.
“Been meaning to tell you how happy I am with your work.”
That was the last thing he’d expected to hear. “Thank you, sir.”
“You’re probably aware I downsize my crews over the winter.”
“I guessed.”
“You willing to stay on?”
“I’d...hoped to.”
Phillips smiled. “Excellent. You know most of the guys look up to you already? You have a quiet way of taking charge without anyone noticing that’s what you’re doing.”
Cole did know. Even in school, he’d ended up masterminding group projects. He didn’t think of himself as a leader, but he really wasn’t a very good follower. “All I do is put in a word when I see a way to do something easier or better.”
Keen eyes studied him. “You’re a bit of a puzzle.” Phillips shook himself, like a dog changing moods. “You keep on like you have been, and you’ll be one of my foremen before you know it.”
Cole was almost as stunned as he’d been when Erin offered him a job. He stared at the other man for longer than was polite before he got out a husky, “Thank you,” and excused himself.
Walking back to his pickup to get his hard hat and tool belt, he ached to call Erin. Share his good news. Knowing he couldn’t left him feeling hollow—or maybe just expanded the hollow place that was always there now. The one that had him second-guessing his decision to walk away from her, even though he was still convinced he’d needed to do it.
I miss you. If he’d actually said the words, how would she have responded?
But he knew. Guess we’re both moving on. She’d soon find herself bored working at the library. Eventually the grief would soften, and she’d want her real life back.
Buckling on his tool belt, Cole gave a helpless shrug. Had Erin resigned from the college where she’d taught? Or had they extended her a leave of absence, and expected her back in September? If that was the case, next time he drove by the house, he might see a For Sale sign in front.
When that day came, he could quit looking for her whenever he went out. Damn. Had he really held any hope? If so, he’d be smart to let it go.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
WITH THE NIGHT dark and eerily quiet, Erin sat in the driver’s seat of the Cherokee. She’d resisted the temptation last night after seeing Cole, as she had every night since she’d promised she wouldn’t do this again. She didn’t even know what had propelled her out here at two in the morning. Probably a nightmare, but if so, she didn’t remember it.
The key was in the ignition. The fact that she hadn’t fastened the seat belt or started the engine meant she hadn’t yet committed. Instead, gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles ached, she closed her eyes and ran through what she wanted to do. Put the key in the ignition. Shift from Park. Roll quietly down the driveway. Turn right at the street. She imagined taking every turn, all the way to Highway 9. There, if she saw no headlights, she could press her foot down on the accelerator. The veil separating her from the girls would thin. She might even see their faces as she felt the rush, as the world blurred. As her terror climbed.
Her eyes flew open. Terror? Where had that come from? She wouldn’t be afraid. She never had been, except when the animal had run out onto the highway in front of her.
On a little pop of surprise, she knew better. I will be now.
Erin moaned. Wrong verb tense. She would be scared now. The word will implied that it would definitely happen, which wasn’t true. She’d promised Cole. Maybe only impulse had motivated him to hang around to talk to her the other night. Maybe he felt genuine curiosity about how she was doing. He might never give her a thought again, she didn’t know, but he’d meant something huge to her. And now, crap, her eyes were leaking, because she’d used the wrong verb tense again. He still meant something huge to her. Maybe...always would.
No, she couldn’t think like that. She couldn’t handle mourning one more person.
So if he didn’t care anymore, why not go for a drive tonight?
Because she’d promised. Because, while the craving still gnawed at her, the urgency had lessened. Because I won’t deliberately set myself up to die.
She’d get there eventually, after all. Since living forever wasn’t an option, the time would come, whether it was a year from now or fifty years from now. If there really was an afterlife, she’d see the girls then, along with her parents and Nanna and Grandpa.
Maybe not the girls. They might be too busy with their families, with everyone else they’d loved. Her, they’d liked, respected, trusted, which wasn’t the same thing.
Staring ahead through the windshield, she accepted that they would have graduated and gone on with their lives, perhaps not even stayed in touch. Other girls would have taken their places. If she’d kept on coaching—if she did keep coaching—she’d care about a lot of
students, feel proud when she sat with faculty and watched them accept their diplomas, when she eagerly read the alumni magazines later for updates on their lives.
She let herself cry as she hadn’t since Cole had held her, and knew it to be cleansing. Living with him had been better than living without him, but she could do it.
* * *
A MONTH HAD passed since Cole had seen Erin at the grocery store. He’d caught a couple of glimpses of her. Once when he was waiting at a stoplight and she drove past right in front of him. Another time when he’d gone down her street—out of curiosity, that was all—and seen her kneeling in the flower bed in front of the porch he’d built. She had a trowel in one gloved hand, and when he slowed, he saw her drop what were probably weeds in a bucket. Her hair had been fiery in the sunlight, her braid as fat and tempting as he remembered.
There was no For Sale sign.
It really bothered him that he hadn’t built the rose trellis he’d promised. Worse, he hadn’t reminded her to pick up a garage door opener for him to install.
He’d made himself keep going. She hadn’t seen him.
He still didn’t love hanging out in a tavern, but he’d taken to doing it a couple evenings a week, plus Sundays now that football season had started. He didn’t know many people except his coworkers, and this was how they spent their time. He’d never felt the pleasure in his new apartment that he had in the one above Erin’s garage. This one seemed bare, whether he added anything personal or not. Solitude had morphed into loneliness. Sometimes he felt as if he’d injured a limb that was regaining feeling, the prickles more painful than hopeful.
Tonight being Thursday, football was on both big screens at Mickey’s. The Seahawks were playing the Packers in Green Bay, and led 14–3 at the moment.
Just then, the ball squirted out of a Seahawk running back’s arms as he went down, and a bunch of Packers piled on. The crowd at the tavern erupted. On the screen, more bodies got into the fray as they all fought to get their hands on the football. Cole hooted with everyone else when the ref straightened up and signaled that it was still the Seahawks’ ball.
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