Without Words

by Stewart, Delancey

  I nodded and turned to my brother, a chill creeping into me as we walked back to Trent’s to get ready to go see our mother.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dani

  I drove home, trying not to let my mind wander into a lustful sentimentality over what had happened between Rob and me at the shop. His hands on me, his mouth—the way he held me as though I was the one thing tethering him to the Earth—it had been incredible. And I couldn’t stop thinking about how I’d just done a complete 180 without even thinking about it. He’d been there, he’d touched me, and I’d abandoned every shred of common sense I’d salvaged after kissing him the first time. I’d thrown myself into his arms. He must think I’m completely unhinged. First, I tell him kissing him was a mistake, and then I act like I can’t get enough of him. Because I can’t.

  I wanted to get a grip on my impulses where men were concerned because I’d only ever seen things go badly—for me, for my mom, for Nan. When I was younger, I’d thought maybe things would be different for me, that what I’d spent my whole life learning about love and men couldn’t possibly be true—there were happy endings for some people, after all. But it didn’t seem like I was one of those people.

  Despite my hesitation, I’d be dishonest if I didn’t admit there was something inside me screaming to try again, to try with Rob. Carefully. If that was even possible.

  Amy’s car wasn’t home when I got there, so I texted her as soon as I’d gotten inside.

  We’ve got plans at three, remember?

  She texted back right away. I remember. Keep your pants on.

  She had no idea how close I’d come to taking them off just a few hours ago.

  They’re on. See you soon.

  I forced myself to do productive things while I waited for my sister to arrive, even though the rebel faction of my soul just wanted to stare out a window and replay the way it had felt to be pressed up against Rob’s body.

  An hour later, I was riding shotgun in Amy’s company car, a long Pontiac with plush seats. When we had to go somewhere together, the company car always beat out Betty, my little vintage VW Bug. Fine with me. Let the miles pile up on this boat. More time for me and Betty to share in the long run.

  “What’s your deal?” Amy asked, shooting me a sideways glance as she navigated northward. She took the on-ramp to the 8 Eastbound like we were in some kind of stock-car race. Driving the freeways all day for work gave her an edge over the usual daily commuters around us.

  “Maybe I should ask you the same question,” I said. “Throttle it back, Andretti.”

  “We’re late.”

  “Better late than dead, I always say,” I quipped, hoping she’d be distracted and I wouldn’t have to tell her anything else about Rob. I knew if she kept pressing, my traitorous mouth would let it all out. If I had a secret, it only ever took about five minutes before Amy unlocked it.

  “Tile and grout guy,” Amy prompted.

  “Has a brother who could be his twin,” I told her.

  She turned with a wide-eyed expression, and that was all it took for me to unload my entire day on her. Once I’d gotten it all out, it actually felt a little less complicated.

  “So you got interrupted. You’ll see him again, see where it goes.”

  “He’s basically my employee now. It’s totally inappropriate.”

  “They make movies about that kind of inappropriateness, Dani. That’s why it’s hot.” Amy grinned out at the dry brush flying by the windows as we joined the other cars heading through North San Diego and toward the low hills that formed the gateway into the Temecula Valley.

  I shrugged and watched the landscape move by, thinking about everything as two fighter jets banked just over the freeway, coming in to land at Miramar. One part of my life was so completely on track. I’d spent years dreaming of the shop, of having the keys in my hand, having a place to belong—a place that was mine. I’d dreamed about spending my days baking, talking about books and wine, surrounded by all the things I loved. Never, not once in those dreams, was there a hot hulking man with bulging muscles, tattoos, and a voice that pulled at the essence of my heart with every word. Never was there a huge dog sprawled outside the door, greeting everyone who came by. I swear, I was as crazy about Sampson as I was about Rob.

  Talking to Britta would help me figure things out. We parked outside the retirement community’s gated pool. She had been a voice of logic and reason in my life for as long as I could remember.

  …

  “There they are,” Britta sang as we were ushered into the big open recreation room of her retirement home. She stood and pressed her hands together at her chest like a little girl, an action that was at odds with the elegant poise that Britta always carried. Her hair was a soft white color, cut into a sophisticated angled wedge, and she wore a dark lipstick and eyeliner that made her look much younger than her almost eighty years. Britta had lived on her own until very recently, when she’d moved here and begun what she referred to as her “eternal vacation.” She had her own apartment here, but no longer had to cook if she didn’t want to, and as she aged there would be increasing amounts of help available. She was strong and healthy, but she might also have been a little bit lonely, I guessed. Many of her good friends had died in the years before she moved here—including Nan.

  “You girls are so beautiful.” She waved us into chairs next to a picture window overlooking the edge of a golf course. “I see so much of your grandmother in you both. And your mom.”

  “How are you?” Amy asked, deftly changing the subject. “Your hair is amazing.”

  “I got bored,” she said, one hand absently lifting to pat the wedge. “But, you guys, your lives can’t be boring. Tell me what’s going on. Dani, you opened the shop, right?”

  “Not yet.” I told her about all the work that would need to be done, about the progress I’d made so far.

  “That’s a lot of work,” she said. “I had no idea you were so handy.”

  “She hired a handyman,” Amy said, leaning forward and waggling her eyebrows.

  Dammit. That wasn’t the way I wanted to introduce the subject and get Britta’s wise counsel.

  Britta’s face lit up, reading the cues from Amy’s ridiculous grin and guessing that there was something more to it than just laying tile. “It’s good when men are…handy.” It was Britta’s turn to raise her eyebrows.

  I laughed despite myself. Britta had never been one to keep her thoughts to herself, and she had a lot of thoughts where men were concerned.

  “He’s just helping out,” I said, hoping to move to other topics. I wanted to talk to Britta about my goals, about my plans for the shop. And I wanted to talk to her about Rob, but not about how “handy” he might or might not be.

  “It’s about time you got some ‘help,’” Britta said, squeezing my hand with her own, her glossy red nails flashing. “I worry about you girls. It’s time you met some strong, capable men, had some adventures.”

  Amy smiled wide. “I have a date,” she said in a mock whisper.

  “Oh, that’s wonderful. Tell me about him,” Britta said. “The men around here only get hot if they take too many niacin tablets.” As she said this, she glanced over my shoulder across the room and I turned to follow her gaze. There was a man sitting in a corner reading the paper. As if he sensed our attention, he lowered the paper and turned to glance at us. He was tanned and coiffed, the retired golfer type. But for a fellow of a certain age, he was quite handsome. His skin was smooth and his hair was dark, shot through at the sideburns with silver. He wore khakis and a button-down shirt, and his eyes were bright and alert. He smiled at us and winked at Britta before returning to his paper.

  Amy didn’t notice Britta’s attention shift, and she went on gushing about Trent. “…Tall, blond, and totally hot,” she was saying. “He’s a firefighter.”

  Britta nodded knowingly, Amy’s excitement mirrored in her own eyes.

  “I just met him. We’re going for coffee Monday,
though.”

  “That’s wonderful, Amy. How did you meet this gentleman?”

  And we were back to me. Amy told Britta all about the club, and then wound her way around to describing the guitar player and wrapped it up with Rob’s work at my shop, ending her story with a pointed look at me.

  “Yeah, so he was a firefighter, too. But he got hurt.” I’d already divulged the whole story to Amy, but it didn’t feel right to share Rob’s history again. So Amy did.

  “Oh my gosh,” Britta said on a whisper. “The poor man. But he is healing? Doing better?”

  I shrugged. “He seems okay most of the time. Doesn’t talk much because of the brain injury. I guess it makes it hard for him. I think he’s insecure about that.”

  “Well, think of all the daily situations you encounter where that would be difficult,” Britta said, thinking out loud. “Everything from ordering in a restaurant to answering your phone would be tough, right? He’s got a lot to deal with.”

  I nodded, dropping my gaze to my hands. I hadn’t thought a lot about how hard it must be for Rob every day, struggling to find words for even the simplest of situations. My heart squeezed with pity for him, but then it warmed and turned to something else—admiration. He was brave. If it were me, I wondered if I’d be able to make myself leave the house.

  “You like him very much,” Britta said. It wasn’t a question.

  “She does,” Amy agreed. “But she’s being stupid about it.”

  I shot Amy a dark look. “I’m being careful. Things have progressed way too fast, and I haven’t had time to think.” I told Britta about Rob leaving that first day, and about the kiss. I left out the part about this morning, what had almost happened in the kitchen. “And now his brother is here.” I hadn’t told Amy about the conversation we’d had at lunch with Mateo, about his offer to Rob. “And he wants Rob to go home. His brother lives down in Mexico. Their family has a winery, and Mateo has a job for him.”

  “What did Rob say to that idea?” Britta asked.

  I thought back to the conversation over lunch. “He said he would think about it,” I said. “But why wouldn’t he go? He has family down there. And his brother offered him part of the business. A life all ready to go. Why would he say no? He doesn’t have anything keeping him here. He can’t fight fires anymore, doesn’t have his own place. He doesn’t really have reasons to stay in San Diego.” Sadness flooded my chest as I said these words and imagined Rob leaving. Maybe it would be better, though, for him to leave now—for a discernible reason—instead of later, once things were even more complicated. “At least he doesn’t have any reasons to stay that I know about. I just met him. I barely know him.”

  “Maybe he will wait to see if you might give him a reason to stay,” Britta said.

  I blew a frustrated sigh from my lips. “He barely knows me.” I thought about that some more. “I wouldn’t want him to stay for me, anyway.” It felt untrue, but I said it because it was the rational thing to say. The logical way to feel. Rob and I were practically strangers. Just because we had some kind of chemical attraction certainly didn’t mean either of us should change the course of our life for the other. I wouldn’t. “I’m not making any plans based on him,” I said, my train of thought escaping my lips unintentionally. “He’ll leave eventually, anyway.”

  Britta shook her head slowly back and forth. “When did you become so pessimistic, Danielle?”

  “Just life experience.” I leaned back in my chair. “Look at what happened to Mom. She sacrificed everything for some guy—”

  “Your father,” Britta corrected. “He may have been a lowlife who made very poor choices, but he was still your father.”

  “Lot of good it did Mom,” I said bitterly. “And what about Granddad? Same story there. It all seems so great at the beginning, until you’re in too deep to get out. And then it seems like men find some way to get out of things, to disappear. Nan would back me up.”

  “You make a lot of assumptions about things you don’t know.”

  Amy had been leaning back, picking at her cuticles, but she leaned in now, spreading her hands wide. “What don’t we know? Dani’s right. Nan never got over the way Granddad broke her heart. She wouldn’t even talk about him.” She brushed her hair out of her face. “I don’t know that I’m ready to condemn all men, but the two prime examples we were given sucked. Maybe the whole idea of long-term relationships is just archaic.”

  Britta sat up straight and gave both of us a fierce look. “I have two things to say about that, ladies. One, I am the product of my parents’ happy and long-lasting marriage, and I had one myself. Bernie left me alone in the end—that’s true—but I wouldn’t trade the forty years we had together before he died. And as for your grandmother…” She looked away from us for a second, as if to gather her thoughts. Her eyes grew shiny and a pang of guilt shot through me. I didn’t want to make Britta cry. But she regained herself quickly and fixed her eyes on me. “Your grandmother wouldn’t talk about him, would she?”

  “Never,” I confirmed.

  “So how do you know what exactly happened there?”

  “If it had been something good, Nan wouldn’t have been heartbroken. And if it had been something good, he might still be around.” Amy had adopted her cool logical tone.

  Britta narrowed her eyes at us. “I guess you’ve got it all figured out. Men are bad, and you’re going to live your whole lives alone, huh?” Her gaze drifted to the well-dressed man in the corner with the paper and a glint lit her eyes as color flooded her cheeks. “Better get some cats then, girls. But I’ll tell you right now, life is a lot more fun with a man in it. Or a couple of men, even. Or a woman, if that’s your thing.” Britta lifted her eyebrows at us and we both looked across the room to find the handsome man smiling at her. He blew a kiss our way before lifting his paper again.

  “Britta,” Amy said, feigning shock. “Are you getting it on in the retirement home?”

  I elbowed Amy hard as Britta burst into laughter.

  “You’d better believe it,” she said in a low voice.

  We giggled and the mood lightened. No one spoke of Rob or Nan again until we were gathering our things, getting ready to go.

  “It’s Friday night, ladies,” Britta said. “I have a date, so I’d better go get ready.”

  We hugged her goodbye and I felt lighter, brighter, knowing she was happy and doing well. She walked us to the door and then turned to us. “One more thing,” she said. “Don’t make assumptions. Sometimes things look one way, but they turn out to be something else entirely. Take the time to learn the difference.” She squeezed my hand, her fingers cool and papery on my skin. “That goes for your Granddad, and for your gentleman friend, too.”

  I nodded, and kissed her cheek. “Love you,” I said as she turned to go.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rob

  “Think I’m dressed okay for dinner?” Mateo asked after I’d changed into a pair of dark jeans and a polo shirt.

  I glanced at him. He wore light linen slacks and a Guayabera shirt with brown loafers. “You’re fine,” I grunted.

  Mateo drove, arguing that he’d have to pick up his car at my place anyway, and he liked driving over the bridge. I wondered if he was just remembering what the doctors had said when he’d been up to visit me last year. That stress and anxiety could affect my judgment, that driving could be a problem at times. I didn’t argue, I just slid into the passenger side of his black SUV and buckled in.

  “Mom doing okay?” he asked as we hit the freeway heading south.

  I made a non-committal sound. “Yeah,” I added, feeling like some kind of response was probably expected.

  “Teddy still a pompous dick?”

  My laugh was all the confirmation he needed on that count.

  When we pulled up, Mom flew out the heavy wooden door of the Spanish-style mansion, as if she’d been waiting at the window. She stood in a white dress, waiting for us to get out of the car with her hands clas
ped together under her chin, as if she were about to be given a gift.

  “Mateo,” she cried as he rounded the front of the big car. She scurried to face him, but slowed at the last minute, maybe remembering that things hadn’t been smooth when she’d seen him last. Or for years before that.

  Mateo opened his arms and pulled her into a hug, eliminating the potential for an angry or awkward greeting. “Hi, Mama,” he said. “I missed you.”

  She stepped away and wiped at her eyes, giving me an embarrassed smile. “Rob,” she said, putting an arm around my waist and leaning her head into my chest in a half-hug.

  “Mom,” I managed.

  We turned to see Teddy standing in the open doorway, a white button-down shirt open over a pair of green swim trunks and a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He neither smiled nor frowned, but he made an imposing figure waiting there for us, even in his questionably casual attire. And I suspected he knew it. As we approached, he curled the sides of his mouth up in an attempted smile that made his dislike for me pretty clear. “Rob,” he said. “Good to see you again. Looking strong, son.”

  I cringed at his use of the familiar term but did my best to greet him appropriately. It was his house, after all. I shook his hand and stepped inside as he waved me past him. I heard him greet Mateo as I walked into the soaring entryway.

  “Glad you could join us, Mateo,” Teddy said, once we’d settled on the back patio with drinks in hand. “What brings you up?”

  Mateo smiled, but something in his face looked wary. I knew he didn’t like Teddy much, and neither of us fully trusted the guy, though he’d been good to Mom. “Trying to talk Rob into coming home,” he said.

  Mom’s eyes flew to my face. “You’re going back to Mexico?” she said, her voice higher than usual.

  “No,” I said.

  “He will,” Mateo corrected.

  Mom looked worried, and Teddy laughed, a derisive and condescending sound. “Sounds like Rob’s right where he’s been all year. No real plans, no clear path, right, Rob?”

  I wasn’t sure if he really expected me to respond to that, but it was more effort than it was worth, so I just took a sip of Teddy’s expensive scotch, enjoying the way it burned down my throat. “Where’s Anna?” I asked, changing the subject with no finesse at all.