Tripped Up Love

by Farley, Julie

“No, I don’t think anyone else saw me, but I’m not 100% sure. Thanks for your concern though.”

  Heather’s mom brought dinner - a roast chicken just like she thought - and stayed and got everything cleaned up before she left again. At least the kids were old enough to shower and get ready for bed on their own. They got their stuff ready for school, watched a movie together and helped Heather up to bed.

  Heather decided not to go out to the bus stop the next morning. Instead, she kissed all the kids from the comfort of her family room and sat in her favorite chair, foot propped up on the ottoman, laptop on her lap and both phones next to her. Heather heard the loud brakes of the bus and knew Henry and Gracie were off to school.

  Less than three minutes later, her phone started buzzing.

  9:01 Jenny: OMG! U broke ur ankle! Y didn’t u call me? What can I do to help?

  9:02 Nicole: U POOR THING! I’ll leave dinner on your doorstep.

  9:02 Victoria: I’ll drive the boys to baseball and I will have Ken leave his meeting with the Lieutenant Governor to pick them up as I have an appt.

  9:03 Victoria: I’ve hired a babysitter to pick the boys up. Ken can’t leave his meeting with the Lieutenant Governor. But I will make your kids lunches for tomorrow and I will use all organic sulfate free meat. Do they eat crust?

  9:04 Jenny: I’m coming over there if you don’t text me back RIGHT NOW.

  Heather put her phone down and took a deep breath. In and out. That’s what the therapist had told her after Hank died. Just remember to breathe.

  And she replied to the texts.

  9:10 Heather: Thanks, Jenny. I don’t know what I need yet. I think I am ok for today. I should be able to start driving in a few days.

  9:11 Heather: Thanks, Nicole, but dinner is not necessary. I will be able to fix something.

  9:12 Heather: Thanks, Victoria. I cannot drive to baseball today but maybe we could ask someone else to bring the boys home instead of you having to hire a babysitter.

  As if it were a race, all three responses came in at the same

  time.

  9:13 Jenny: Forget about all your driving worries. I’ve got it covered. I’ll be over in an hour to see how I can help around the house.

  9:13 Nicole: I insist. Dinner will be on the doorstep at 4:30. All you have to do is preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

  9:13 Victoria: Babysitter is done. Ken will be able to drive when he isn’t meeting with the Lieutenant Governor. We will handle baseball for the near future.

  Heather was sure glad Victoria mentioned Ken was meeting with the Lieutenant Governor. What would she have done without that knowledge? she thought. She was sincerely glad Jenny was coming over. Heather couldn’t ignore the fact she did need help now. And Jenny was the one person she was ok with seeing her messy closet and sorting her underwear. Her plan was to waste the next hour on Facebook.

  Another acquaintance posted she was Saying a prayer for the widow in the neighborhood who had fallen into more bad luck. Since she was the only widow quite possibly in the whole zip code, Heather knew the post was all about her. The fact that half a dozen people had already liked the status really irked her. Did they like the fact that Heather had fallen or that this ‘friend’ was saying a prayer for her? She closed her laptop. Nothing good ever came of a widow on Facebook.

  Jenny arrived and let herself in. She plopped down on the couch next to Heather’s chair.

  “What in the hell happened to you?”

  Heather started to recount the whole story. When she got to the part about Peter taking her to Ortho On Call, Jenny stopped her.

  “Number 1 - you can always call me. I will always be your emergency contact any day, you know that. Number 2 - You let a strange man with a bunch of arm tattoos pick you up off the street and take you to the doctor?? What in the hell were you thinking?”

  “That’s funny. I never thought about being scared. I guess I didn’t think much at all. I had a bag of dog crap in my hand, and I cried like twenty times. Well, maybe only twice, but it probably felt like twenty to him.”

  “Well, you’re lucky it turned out ok.”

  “Not sure if I should tell you that after he brought me home, he went out to buy my lunch and came back here and ate it with me.”

  “WHAT!!!?!”

  Heather was Jenny’s closest friend, but sometimes things felt strained because Heather felt like a burden. Jenny never thought Heather was a burden, but in the last year and a half Heather had made a habit of shutting down at different times. She was lucky Jenny continued to put up with her and pushed through the walls she continued to put up.

  “I know. I must have been such a pathetic basket case that he was compelled to do a year’s worth of good deeds and take care of me.”

  Jenny rolled her eyes at the pathetic basket case comment. Heather was beautiful and had a perfect body. The only problem was Heather couldn’t see it. But that was all part of her charm.

  “Tell me how this date ended.”

  “Holy Cow! It wasn’t a date!” The thought scared Heather. She hadn’t dated since Hank died. The kids kept her busy enough. It wasn’t even until last month that she went out with a bunch of single moms.

  “You can’t call it a date when you fall in front of some guy’s car, and he just tries not to run you over. And then it turns out you broke your ankle, and he takes you to the doctor. He feels so bad for you that he gets you some food so he doesn’t have to clean your puke when you take your pain meds on an empty stomach!”

  “Ok. It wasn’t a date. Are you going to see him again?”

  “I doubt it. He left his number on my cast. Clear sympathy move.”

  “If he didn’t want to see you again, why would he leave his number?”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m not calling it. Although, I should probably apologize, and thank him. Wish he would have left his email instead.”

  “You’re the most resourceful girl I know. I’m sure you can find it. What can I do for you around here?”

  “I hate to ask, but would you throw in a load of the laundry for me? Hayes’ baseball stuff is in there, and he needs it for practice tonight.”

  “No prob. What else?”

  “Nothing. I can hobble around. Not going to let my ass get any bigger by sitting in the chair all day.”

  “K. I am going to the store in a bit, so I’ll pick some stuff up for you.”

  “Nicole’s leaving dinner on the doorstep for us.”

  “Nothing like a drop and run casserole.” With that, Jenny did the laundry, hugged Heather and went home.

  Chapter 4

  The week hobbled by with Heather, and it was finally Friday. The kids were off on the bus, and Heather had not showered yet. She was dressed in her stay-at-home-mom uniform - black yoga pants and a t-shirt. Ironically, there was no way she could work out right now, so it was clear she was in it only for the comfort. Heather set herself up at her desk and started to write. Since she was stuck at home, she had absolutely no excuse not to work on her book. Her goal for the day was to write 1,600 words. If she stayed off of Facebook, Twitter and all of the celebrity gossip websites, it was an attainable goal.

  As soon as Heather opened up her file and figured out where she had left off, the doorbell rang.

  “Holy Fuck! I just sat down. Who can that be?” she said as she pulled herself up and slowly made her way to the door. Heather could see him as soon as she reached the foyer. Unfortunately, he could see her too. There was no turning around. No running away or primping. Her horror-filled face was met with a smile. A big smile on a scruffy haired face.

  “Morning. Thought you could use some breakfast,” Peter said, and started walking right down the hall to the kitchen.

  A shocked Heather followed behind slowly. He was in almost the exact same outfit she had seen him in the other day. Jeans, Doc Martens and a white t-shirt. This time he had added a leather jacket.

  “I don’t think my butt can stand not exercising and eating breakfast.”
<
br />   With a quick glance, Peter realized her butt could handle quite a few breakfasts without any problem. He especially liked how it looked in her workout pants and that he didn’t see any underwear lines.

  “Your butt will be just fine. One little breakfast with me won’t hurt.” He set it all out on the table. Coffee and croissants. “So, tell me about your book.”

  “My book? It’s a memoir. It’s about Hank and how we met. And his death. Therapy got to be too expensive. Writing has turned into my free form of therapy. It’s pretty raw.”

  “Raw is good. When you write from that place, readers can really connect with your words.”

  Heather stared at Peter. Was he a professor or something? thought Heather. He sounded like he knew what he was talking about.

  “I’d love to read it sometime.”

  “Ohhh, yeah, that won’t be for awhile. I’m pretty private with my words other than my Facebook status or 140 characters on Twitter.”

  “Well, if you change your mind, I’d love to read it.”

  “Thanks. And thank you for all you did for me on Monday. I’m sorry I didn’t call to thank you. I’m not really good at that kind of thing. In case you didn’t notice when I cried on you all those times, I am a bit socially awkward.”

  Peter chuckled. “I would say charming and genuine rather than awkward. It was refreshing. I don’t usually see that.”

  “Yeah. I guess I break the mold for the suburban housewife. But I really appreciate all you did for me. It was way beyond what most people would have done for a stranger.”

  “I’m sure you received a ton of dinners this week and lots of help.”

  “The casserole bus stopped here several times, and there have been plenty of pity texts.”

  “So I’ve noticed you don’t like pity. And casseroles bring out a bit of sarcasm. How does going out to dinner with me make you feel?”

  “Ummmm… I guess I could go.” Heather stammered. Her mind started racing. A date? Was he asking her out? Could she date yet? What would her kids think? How about her mom? Or Hank’s mom? And she kind of just said yes. But maybe that was because she has such a hard time saying no.

  “Great. Tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up at 6:30. Is that enough time for you to get a sitter?”

  “Well, actually, Hayes is at a baseball tournament, so he won’t be here. I think I could find someone to stay with Henry and Gracie.”

  “It’s a date then.” Peter stood up to leave.

  “Wait a second, I don’t even know your last name!”

  “Adamson…Peter Adamson. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, he was gone.

  Heather started to panic. She wasn’t ready to tell her mom about him. Her mom could be so judgmental, and she wasn’t ready to deal with that. Hank’s sister was still one of Heather’s best friends, but she wasn’t ready to give her a call on this topic. So, she called Jenny.

  “Hey. How are you this morning?” Jenny asked as Heather’s number popped up on her caller id.

  “Well, the guy who helped me out on Monday just stopped over unannounced.”

  “WHAT!? Are you ok? What did he want?”

  “He just brought me coffee, and we talked for a bit. But then he asked me to go out to dinner tomorrow night.”

  “You have got to be kidding me! What did you say?”

  “I said yes, but I don’t have a sitter. Hayes will be at a baseball tournament.”

  “I’ll watch Gracie and Henry. I would love to. Ava will be so excited. What time?” Ava was Jenny’s kindergartner. Jenny also had a third grade boy, Zach. Jenny and Heather wished many times their childrens’ genders had been the opposite. Ava and Gracie could be BFFs, and so could Zach and Henry. The older kids tolerated the younger ones while the younger ones idolized their older counterpart.

  “He’s picking me up at 6:30.”

  “Ok, but how do you feel about this? It’s your first date since Hank died, and I know you well enough to know you are probably freaking out.”

  “Yes. I am totally freaking out. Do you think it’s too soon for me to go on a date? Do I tell the kids? Do I tell my mom or Hank’s mom? What do I do?”

  “It’s not too soon. It’s been a year and a half. Surely that is an ok amount of time. Don’t tell anyone. Tell the kids you are going out with a friend. I’ll bring them over here around six, so they won’t even see him. The only thing you have to do is figure out what to wear.”

  “Oh crap. I haven’t bought myself any clothing since Hank died. I don’t have much I can wear at all. Most of what I have makes me look like a Sunday school teacher.”

  “I’ll come over later and we can figure it out. I’ll bring some of my stuff over. But, in the meantime let me play over-protective friend. Do you know much about this guy?”

  “Well, I did make him tell me his last name. I’m not good at asking questions. I don’t get a scary vibe from him. He had every opportunity to run over me, and he didn’t.”

  “Maybe he has other plans for you, Heather!” Jenny said with a menacing smile in her voice.

  “I’m hanging up and googling him right now.”

  “K, let me know what you find.”

  Heather parked herself at her desk again and typed Peter’s name into her Google search bar. As she typed, she got a little bit nervous about what she would find. She hoped she didn’t come up with a criminal record, multiple wives - ex and not ex, or a crazy ranting Facebook page. She laughed at herself as she realized she might not find any sort of information.

  Within seconds, she learned, as usual, she was worrying about the wrong thing. She also realized she knew exactly who Peter Adamson was. Why hadn’t she figured it out before? Peter Adamson, the Peter Adamson, NY Times bestselling author. He had written a dozen crime novels. Hank had read several on their beach vacations. Her Google search produced hundreds of articles, pictures and his website. She had to call Jenny.

  “Oh no, what did you find out?” Jenny asked using her caller id again.

  “Have you ever heard of Peter Adamson?” Heather asked.

  “Yes, my dad reads his books all the time. Why?”

  “THAT’S WHO HE IS!”

  “Peter Adamson picked your ass off the street and asked you out on a date?”

  “YES!”

  “I’m coming over. We need to learn more about him.”

  Over the next hour, they learned he had never been married or arrested. He had written 13 books. Each had been on the NY Times bestseller list. Three had been made into movies. They found pictures of him at book signings, going to movie premiers and watching someone’s baseball game. Wikipedia said he had one sister who lived in Virginia. He just turned 40 last May.

  “What are you going to do? This is not a normal guy!”

  “I know. I’m not going.”

  “You have to. He is so hot, and he’s obviously into you. And how cool to date an author Miss Wannabe!”

  “I’m even more embarrassed I didn’t recognize him. I should have at least figured it out when he said his name.”

  “Well, what’s done is done. Now we just need to figure out what you’re wearing Cast Lady!”

  With that, they went up to Heather’s room and picked out an outfit.

  Chapter 5

  Gracie and Henry went over to Jenny’s at six as planned. Heather finished getting ready and was having a gin and tonic to calm her nerves. Nothing like a tipsy mom in a cast to turn a world-renowned writer on. Heather had spent the night before researching when it was deemed ok for a widow to start dating again. She wanted to find an Emily Post guide to what was appropriate and what wasn’t. But as she was finding in her life, appropriate was thrown out the window all too often.

  She and Jenny had decided a skirt would be best. All of her cute pants would not fit over the stupid cast on her ankle. Thank goodness it was still warm enough to have bare legs. Jenny told her she looked cute with a cast on one foot and a leather boot on the other. At least no one else would look like her. />
  Jenny and Heather had a plan. Jenny was going to text her at 8. Heather could use the text as an excuse to leave if she needed to. The out made Heather feel a little bit better about the whole date thing.

  Peter arrived at 6:30 on the dot. “Ready?” he asked. He loved the cowboy boot and the cast.

  “I think so.” They made their way to the car. Heather was sure Jenny was watching her from one of her windows, and it made her chuckle. Heather knew she had to tell him she had googled him, but she wasn’t sure how. She had a knack for putting words on paper, but when they came out of her mouth, she had a not-so-convenient knack for screwing them up.

  “Where are we going?” Heather said as she took her silver ring on and off her finger a dozen times trying to calm her nerves.

  “Thought we’d go to The Boathouse. Is that ok with you?”

  “Sure. I’ve never been. They weren’t open when Hank was alive.”

  “So tell me, am I your first date since Hank died?” Peter cut right to the chase to see where he stood. Judging from all the finger moving and toe tapping Heather was doing, he was pretty sure this was her first time out on a date.

  “Yes, you have the distinct honor. But I have to be honest, I would be just as nervous if you, best-selling author, were my fiftieth date.” Suddenly, Heather had figured out an easy way to slide his celebrity and occupation into the conversation.

  “No need to be nervous around me. I feel like our first meeting was so compromising and fate-filled we can just be ourselves.”

  Compromising and fate filled. Who used those words together? Heather wondered. He was a writer. An obvious master with words. He was also right. Compromising is an understatement since he found her on the side of the road in a pothole holding a bag of dog crap. And fate, that remained to be seen, but Heather felt like it was a good sign that Peter thought that.

  “Yes, but that was before I knew who you were. I googled you after you told me your last name. I was looking for an old warrant for your arrest or something and realized I was just being ignorant!”