Love Me for Me

by Jenny Hale

“Tell me, what don’t you know?” she pressed.

  He slid the bag onto his shoulder and moved toward her. His mouth was turned down, the skin between his eyes creased, his face showing fatigue. “I don’t know if I need this right now. I’m tired. I have a lot going on. I…” He pinched the bridge of his nose as if relieving an ache there. “I just need to go home.” He turned away and started walking toward the car. Libby followed in silence.

  When they got to the Bronco, Libby slid in on her side and didn’t say a word. She was too busy thinking about his response. He’d been given one night—one night—without the burden of watching over Pop, of worrying about the realities of life, and she’d dropped a bomb on him like that. She felt awful. How selfish could someone be? Even though she hadn’t meant to, she’d still thought about herself first instead of considering what a conversation like this might mean to Pete. She’d given him one more worry, one more thing to contemplate. It was no wonder he was tired.

  The rush of air from the open windows of the truck drowned out the chirping of the crickets in the woods as they drove home in silence. She wanted to put her hands on his face, kiss his lips and tell him she was there for him—she’d always be there for him—and the thought that she may never get the chance to do that was nearly crushing.

  She didn’t know where to go from here. She was so confused. Her time in White Stone had made her realize that she wasn’t happy in New York, and, if she couldn’t be with Pete—if she had to see him day in and day out—it would tear her heart out, so she couldn’t be happy in White Stone either. It was overwhelming. Pete pulled into Celia’s drive, turned off the engine and twisted toward her just like he’d always done when they were kids. But this time, she didn’t see that kid anymore. She saw the man she was in love with, and it terrified her because she didn’t know what more to do about it. The ball was in his court.

  “Call me if you need me, if Pop needs me,” she said, feeling the sting of tears in her eyes again. She sniffled a little. She didn’t want to get out the car.

  “I will. Do you need me to walk you up or are you okay? It’s dark…”

  “I’m okay.” She opened the door, got out, and shut it. As she leaned on the open window, she said, “I’m here for you regardless of our issues, whether we’re together or not. If you need me, call.”

  Pete nodded and started the engine. “I’ll wait for you to get in the door,” he said, tipping his head toward Celia’s front porch.

  * * *

  Libby looked at her phone. Nothing. She didn’t expect anything, but the silence was absolute torture. She couldn’t control this, and it was terrifying. She’d just fled New York on a moment’s notice, leaving her brand new job with barely an explanation to her boss, and now she was sitting in her mother’s house in White Stone with not the first clue as to what she was to do next. Always, she’d had a reasonably attainable goal to meet and, as long as she’d done what was expected, she’d met that goal. But this wasn’t a goal; it was her whole life, and she didn’t know how to behave. Her stomach ached for relief, the acid settling like fire in her gut.

  She’d been up for hours. Her head was pounding and her eyes still stung from lack of sleep. She’d woken throughout the night, thoughts flooding her mind. Each time, it had taken quite a while to fall back asleep. She rubbed her eyes, trying to relieve their dryness.

  “Do you want lunch, honey?” Celia asked from down the hall. As restless as she was, and as terrifying as her life was at this moment, she was glad to be with her mother again. She was glad that Pop was just a drive away, and she’d get to see all the lovely faces she’d left by going to New York.

  She hadn’t even told Mr. Wiesner when she’d be back, because she had no idea. It all reminded her of the first time she’d ever jumped off Catherine’s swing. She’d said she wouldn’t do it. It didn’t look fun to her; it looked startlingly scary. So many things could go wrong: the tree branch could break, the swing could come undone, she could hit the water too hard—so many things… Pete had asked if she wanted to do it, and she’d told him no. She could still see the way he looked at her—that protective gaze—and he said, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want. If you decide to, I’ll help you, but I think you can do it by yourself.”

  She’d watched as the other kids got on one at a time, each one sailing through the air and splashing into the water. She’d watched their laughter, the sun glistening off the beads of water at their shoulders, and the way it brought them all together. She’d never been taught how to live like that, but she wanted it. She’d grabbed Pete’s arm and asked him to help her get on. Then, all by herself, she pushed off the tree and felt the motion of it in her stomach. She remembered holding on to that rope, her eyes on Pete as he reassured her, nodding subtly, telling her with his eyes that she’d be okay. Without thinking it through any more, she’d jumped. It was exhilarating and fun and frightening all at the same time. When she’d climbed onto the sand, dripping wet and laughing just like her friends, her heart hammering, she knew that Pete had been right. She could do it. And she drew on the freedom of that one moment for the rest of the summer.

  It occurred to her that choosing the unknown and staying in White Stone wasn’t much different. She worried for the things that may go wrong, but in the end, she welcomed the freedom of not having a goal to reach, not having her choices mapped out. In a way, she could just be.

  “You don’t have to make me lunch, but thanks for offering,” she called back to her mother. Then she picked up her keys and threw her handbag onto her shoulder. “I’m heading into town. Do you need anything?”

  “No,” her mother surfaced in the hallway. “Thanks, though.”

  “I think I’ll grab a sandwich and read in the park if you need me.”

  “Sounds lovely. Have fun,” Celia smiled.

  Libby went into town and picked up her lunch. As she walked into the park, she saw an empty bench. That insignificant little bench wasn’t so insignificant anymore: it was a place to start, a place to just be. She decided to sit down on that particular bench to read her book. The sun was bright with not a cloud in the sky. Two birds were flying so high up above that they looked like the little black m’s she used to draw as a kid. She unwrapped her sandwich and opened her book.

  As she sat there, she realized that she wasn’t reading. Her eyes were in the book, scanning the words, but the words weren’t going in. She was too busy thinking about Pete and wishing she could have said or done something more. Trying not to think about it, she forced herself to read the words one at a time, but they still weren’t making sense. She kept her eyes on the page anyway, the sun reflecting off the white paper, making spots in her vision.

  Her issues with Pete couldn’t be fixed with an email or interview. They couldn’t be fixed with paint or new cabinetry. They just couldn’t be fixed. Period. She didn’t know what to do, how to proceed. She wanted to be around the people she loved, but she didn’t feel complete unless the most important person to her was with her. She couldn’t imagine being near Pete and not seeing that affectionate look in his eyes, feeling his hand in hers, having his arm around her in that protective way of his. How would she ever manage?

  “Hey.”

  She looked up, her pulse racing, and blinked to clear the spots in her eyes. Pete was standing over her, his sunglasses on, a bag from the sandwich shop in his hand. “Mom is looking after Pop today,” he said. “I had a little free time, and I was on my way to your mom’s when I saw you leaving the shop.” He held up his sandwich.

  He sat down beside her and looked out at the grass that stretched to the tree line. Libby kept her book open in her lap to busy her hands so she wouldn’t show how nervous she had become. There was so much she wanted to say, but she knew she’d already said what she had to, so she stayed quiet. He’d come to find her. She’d rather hear what he had to say anyway.

  They sat in silence for a while before he finally spoke. “I’ve been thinking since our talk, a
nd I wanted to find you today so I could tell you what’s on my mind.” He looked right into her eyes. She watched intently for some small glimmer as to what he thought, but she had to wait for his words because his face wasn’t showing it. “Libby, you make me crazy,” he said, turning his body toward her. “You make me so mad I can’t see straight. You’re stubborn, you’re always in your head when you just need to be in the moment… But I’ve watched you with Pop. You’re thoughtful and kind with him. You flew all the way home for him. I know that you’ll be there for him,” he said. He tipped his head back for bit as if searching for something, but she knew he was just overloaded and tired, and she felt awful for putting him in this situation when he was already dealing with so much.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  He pulled his head up and looked at her.

  She closed her book and set it beside her on the bench. “I know how much you have on your plate with Pop, and it was so selfish of me to even mention what I want right now. I shouldn’t have even brought it up. I care about you. I just want you to know that.”

  “I still don’t know how it will all work out, but I’m glad you’re home,” he said.

  Libby nodded, unable to control the tears in her eyes. Pete leaned back on the bench and propped his arm up behind her. She scooted a little closer and put her head on his shoulder. He moved his hand to her shoulder, and she could feel the movement of his fingers on the top of her arm. As she sat there, feeling the warmth of his shoulder against her face, she couldn’t help but wish for more days just like that.

  * * *

  Libby had spent the last two weeks helping with Pop. She’d given her two weeks’ notice at Riddick Wiesner, and she planned to try and get Marty to give her the old job back, but other than that she had no plan for what was to come next. She didn’t know where she’d live or what was going to happen with Pete. She just enjoyed each day as it came.

  Pete walked onto the sand with two glasses of lemonade and handed one to Libby. He’d been gone quite a while. She took an icy, cold sip as she looked out over the calm waters of the Chesapeake Bay, the sun on her face. Pete sat down in the chair beside her.

  There’s nothing better than this, she decided. Being beside him was more like living than anything she’d done in her working career. This is how life should be, she thought. There was nowhere in the world she’d rather be than by his side.

  “This is perfect,” she said aloud, looking back out over the bay. “What’s Pop doing inside?”

  “Mom took him into town for a while.”

  They sat quietly until they’d had their lemonade. Then Pete stood up. “Can I show you something?” he asked. “Inside.”

  Libby got out of her chair and followed Pete across the beach. He led her inside, down the hallway, and they stopped outside his bedroom. He opened the door and allowed her to enter. There, in the center of the room, was a gorgeous wooden chest. It was huge, the wood new and shiny with lacquer. She’d never seen anything so beautiful.

  “Go take a look,” Pete said.

  Libby fingered the latch of the enormous chest in front of her. It was nearly as big as the trunk of a car, the kind her mother used to keep all her baby clothes in. The scent of cedar came rushing toward her as she bent down to have a closer look at the smooth, oily looking surface. The natural grains—both dark and light—stretched along the top in beautiful, random streaks.

  “Did you make this?” she asked Pete in nearly a whisper.

  He nodded. “Do you know what it is?” he asked.

  “Is it a hope chest?”

  “For most people it’s a hope chest,” he smiled. “It’s a new memory box.” His gesture filled her with happiness. Standing there with him, she felt whole for the first time in her life. She’d always been chasing success, the next thing. In that moment, she realized that there was so much she could chase with him. Her mind went to their family and to the feeling of being with him. She wouldn’t ever have to say goodbye to anyone again.

  “So much has changed since we were together as kids,” he said. “Back then, we didn’t know how to appreciate what the other had to offer. With Pop, over the last few months, I’ve seen how generous you can be, and I’ve watched you give so much to everyone around you. I’m willing to try to make us work if you are.”

  They’d come so far, had so many obstacles in their way, but in the end, she had exactly what she needed and the person she loved. She put her arms around him as she thought about all the days she would spend doing her best to make him happy, the blank canvas of a life they had in front of them, the hope of growing old with him and being as content as Pop and Nana had been. She was ready to do her very best to make it work. With her face only inches from his, she said, “I’m so ready.”

  He wrapped his arms around her waist and looked down at her. Then he kissed her. It was like no kiss she’d ever had before. With that kiss, she could finally feel what he felt—he didn’t hold back. His spicy scent, his strong arms around her, his unstill hands at her back, the feel of his lips moving on hers, all making her dizzy. She reached around his neck, intertwining her fingers there, pushing herself as close to him as she could get. He didn’t kiss like this back in high school, she thought. Then she thought about how she’d get to have kisses like that over and over and over.

  Epilogue

  “What is this, Mommy?” Ava asks, leaning down into Pete’s hope chest. She emerges with Libby’s wedding veil. The little girl, with blush pink cheeks, wildly curly brown hair and green eyes like her daddy, puts it on top of her head and spins around. “It’s so pretty!” she says, patting the tulle with her thin fingers.

  “Are you in my memory box?” Libby giggles. “That’s my veil. I wore that when I married your daddy.” As all the objects in her memory box do, this one brings back many memories. So long ago, at the bonfire and then at the winery that Fourth of July, Libby didn’t know if she’d ever again see everyone together. As it turned out, she didn’t have to leave that family; she became a part of it instead. And not only had they come together for her wedding to Pete in the church that Anne had helped to restore; everyone had come together when Ava was born and every holiday after that. Nearly everyone. Pop and Nana had probably been watching together from up above. She hoped. She swore that she could feel their presence.

  The family is here today. It’s Ava’s fourth birthday and Libby is getting ready, putting on her last earring while Ava plays in her memory box. “Are you ready to have your party?” she asks, unable to conceal her smile as she looks at her daughter, the spitting image of Pete.

  “Are you ready?” Pete’s voice comes from the doorway. He’s on his knees, his arms spread wide.

  “Daddy!” Ava runs to him and wraps her arms around his neck just like her mommy does. Pete hoists her up near his shoulders, his forearm supporting her weight. “Look what I found!” she says, holding out a photo, her mommy’s veil still on her head. Pete takes the photograph as Libby walks over to them.

  “That’s your great-grandpa,” Pete explains. “And that’s your mommy, and that’s me.” Ava looks closer at the photo. Libby had put it in her memory box because it was the last photo she’d taken with Pop. Helen had taken it at her birthday party, on the shore, when Libby had first come back home. It was a reminder to Libby of the family she’d found.

  “That was the day I jumped into the sea for your mommy,” Pete laughs, but Ava doesn’t seem interested. She wriggles down and pulls the veil off her head. Libby, still thinking about that day, tucks the photo neatly between two other memories in her memory box.

  She asks Ava, “What do you want most for your birthday?”

  To her surprise, Ava answers, “A sister!”

  Pete huffs out a chuckle and pats Libby’s tummy. “Maybe you’ll get your wish!” he says. “But not yet. I think Grandma Celia’s here. She’s getting things ready for us out back. Want to go and see?”

  Ava runs out of the room and they both watch through the wi
ndow as she bounds toward her grandmother, with Bailey, their chocolate Labrador, following behind in wild, playful strides, a toy ball in his mouth. Pete turns to Libby. She grabs his pockets and pulls him to her. He puts his arms around her and kisses her.

  “I love you,” he says. “Should we go out to see everyone?”

  Libby shrugs, pulling him closer, a devious look in her eye. “Maybe.”

  A note from Jenny

  Thank you so much for reading Love Me for Me! I hope that you enjoyed reading Libby and Pete’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

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