Learning to Love

by Julie Evelyn Joyce

  And with that subject in mind, she bolted inside to clean up and head to her mother’s place.

  It’d never been easy for her to return to the home she’d grown up in. Not because she didn’t love her mother, but the memories inside the beige-colored walls of the split-level were of a life she spent years trying to escape. They’d struggled to make ends meet even before her father took off. Later, when she was older, she’d learned he’d left them not only with broken hearts, but swimming in credit card debt. Once it became certain he wasn’t coming back, her mother got a second job, sometimes too tired to shop for food on her way home, and sometimes too broke to afford it. Food stamps kept them going . . . just barely.

  Now, as she stood on the front porch of her childhood home, she reaffirmed her vow to never go hungry again.

  Her mother opened the door then, smiling and cheerful. “Hey, pumpkin. C’mon in. I made brownies.”

  Amen.

  She followed her mother inside, the older woman wearing a threadbare Kendal High Comets T-shirt Rebecca had given her over a decade ago, and a pair of worn-out denim jeans. Her Saturday finest. Suzanne’s steps were slower than they’d once been, the dark circles under her eyes evidence of a hard life. She still worked, her job as a cashier at the local Save-Mart making it easy for her to grab food on her way out—like brownie mix, thank the Lord—but she rarely over-indulged. Her mother had never really gotten over the fear of living below the poverty line.

  Rebecca sat on the couch in the family room while Suzanne disappeared into the kitchen to retrieve the baked goods. Pippin, her mother’s sheltie, hopped up next to her, his fluffy tail wagging in delight. “Oh, who’s a good boy?” Rebecca cooed as she stroked his thick coat of fur. “Such a handsome boy, too. Oh yes, you are.” Pippin licked her twice on the nose in approval.

  Her mother returned, holding a tray with a plate of brownies, a pitcher of lemonade, and three glasses. “Pip, off the couch.”

  Pip darted a glance at Rebecca, as if he expected her to defend his right to occupy whatever furniture he so pleased. “Sorry, bud,” she said. “Those are the rules. I had a temporary memory lapse ’cause I missed you so much.” She’d spent much of her summer walking Pippin along with Hannah’s dog, Muffy, and was sad not to see their furry faces every day.

  Suzanne set the tray on the coffee table, then took a seat in the armchair across from her daughter. “Help yourself, love,” she told Rebecca. “Not you,” she added, looking pointedly at Pip.

  “Don’t have to tell me twice.” Rebecca grabbed a napkin and a delectable corner piece of brownie, slathered in frosting. No plates necessary. “What’s with the third glass?” she asked. “Has Pip mastered drinking like a human now?”

  Her mother opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by a knock at the door. “I think that should answer your question,” she said, grinning. “Door’s open!” she hollered.

  Rebecca leaned forward on the couch so she could see the entryway right as Hurricane Hannah swept inside, along with Muffy. “Good morning, ladies! What a gorgeous day!”

  Pip immediately bolted toward the bigger dog who nuzzled him in greeting. Hannah beamed at the two women as she strolled into the living room, bending to press a kiss to Suzanne’s cheek, then joining Rebecca on the couch. Her dress was a sunshine yellow that clung to her every curve, yet she managed to sit without any difficulty whatsoever. It was all very perplexing to Rebecca, who most often found herself in jeans, yoga pants, or gym shorts. If forced, she’d wear a skort. Yes, they still made skorts for adults.

  “How are my two favorite people? What’s new?” Hannah asked. “Ooh! Brownies!” Not one who needed an invitation to eat, she reached for a napkin and plucked two of the biggest squares from the plate. Her appetite was as healthy as her glowing complexion, but the woman never worked out. Not in a gym, anyway. Hannah’s job kept her plenty active, and she claimed she owed the maintenance of her svelte figure to “sex, and lots of it.”

  “Nothing new to report in my life,” Suzanne answered. “Pip’s as spoiled as ever.” The sheltie’s ears perked up, and he scurried back into the room.

  “Well, now, Auntie Hannah will just have to spoil you some more, Pip-Pip! I brought treats!”

  That was Muffy’s signal to join the party, too. Both dogs parked their butts in front of Hannah and waited impatiently while she removed two baggies from her purse. “These are for now,” she said, waving the first bag. “And these are for later.” She tossed the second bag to Suzanne for safekeeping.

  “What do I owe you?” Suzanne asked.

  Hannah dispersed the “for now” treats to her furry fan club. “You’re one of my best customers, Suz. My first customer, no less. They’re on the house.”

  “I think I was technically your first,” Rebecca interjected. She’d been the one walking Pippin the day of The Barkery’s grand opening. But technicalities aside, from that point on, Hannah had made it her personal mission to insert herself into the Ledgerwood women’s lives. She’d been new in town; she’d needed a friend. Suzanne became a frequent patron, and Hannah latched onto Rebecca whether she liked it or not. Polar opposites attract, as they say.

  Hannah was now her dearest friend.

  “Okay, first customer,” her bestie humored her. “What’s new with you? How’s the semester going?”

  Very little was new . . . until yesterday. Memories of Will came crashing back to the surface. “I think I told you guys that Berg signed on to mentor a student teacher for a couple months? Well, he showed up yesterday.”

  “Ooh, he? Is he cute?”

  Of course, that would be Hannah’s first question.

  Her mother tsked. “Hannah, he’d be way too young—”

  “Not really,” Rebecca cut in.

  Hannah finished her mouthful of brownie, then asked, “Not really cute, or not really young?”

  Rebecca stalled for a moment, glancing at the dogs who’d moved to the corner of the room and were fighting over one of Pip’s chew toys. “He’s . . . attractive,” she finally said. Understatement of the century. “And younger, but not too young. I mean, you know, if we weren’t working together. Teaching isn’t his first profession. So, yeah, we met, and he seems nice.”

  Hannah leaned in closer. “You’re holding out on us, Becks. Tell us everything!”

  Her mother remained silent, her posture tight and alert.

  Rebecca blew out a breath, knowing she couldn’t hide anything from the two women who knew her best. “I had kind of a fainting spell at the end of the day.” She waved off their sounds of concern. “I’m okay. I wasn’t hurt. He . . . uh, Will actually rushed over to help me.”

  Hannah pressed both hands to her heart and sighed. “Oh, my God, how romantic!”

  “I didn’t get a chance to finish my lunch, so I guess my blood sugar was a bit low,” she explained. “He sat me down against the lockers and got me a juice box and a packet of cookies.”

  “I am literally dying here.” Hannah fanned herself with her hand.

  Rebecca ignored her friend’s theatrics and the line of worry bisecting her mother’s forehead. “We chatted a bit. I started getting ready to leave, and then he said something about me being way out of his league. I mean, I know I said he was attractive, but this guy looks like the type of guy who’s never had a woman turn him down, ya know?”

  “What did you say?” her mother asked, beating Hannah to the punch.

  “I told him that we’re both teachers and we need to keep things professional. As you know, I don’t have the greatest track record with dating teachers, but He Who Shall Not Be Named aside, Will is first and foremost a student. It’s twenty different levels of inappropriate.”

  “Forbidden romance,” Hannah spoke in a dreamy tone. “The hottest of all romances.”

  Rebecca rolled her eyes. “For someone who’s all about the no-strings-attached, freewheeling lifestyle, you sure do have a hankering for those happily-ever-afters.”

  “I live
vicariously through my gal pals.” Hannah shrugged. “It’s a thing.”

  Suzanne took a sip of her lemonade and smacked her lips together. “I think you’re smart to be wary. A guy who barely knows you, saying what he said . . . comes across awfully pompous to me. I’d keep my distance if I were you.” Her mother wasn’t a big fan of men in general, for good reason. She’d never discouraged Rebecca from dating, nor been unkind to any of the boyfriends she’d brought home, including her former fiancé, but she was never disappointed when they’d disappear from her life, either.

  “Pompous” wasn’t a fair descriptor of Will, she didn’t think. Maybe a bit overconfident, but once he entered the trenches and took over the teaching reins, he’d be cured of that. There was something else that niggled at her, though. Something familiar about him even though they were strangers. It’d felt so comfortable sitting next to him, hip to hip. She didn’t let people in easily. She’d learned from her mother how to be unflinchingly independent, but a few minutes with this guy and suddenly the guard rails she’d kept so firmly in place started crumpling. It was alarming. Unbalancing. Her mom was right. She’d need to keep her distance.

  “Well, ladies, I can’t stay much longer. I’ve got a trunk full of posters to tack up around town,” Hannah declared. “Dogspeed is less than three weeks away, and there’s no time to waste to get the word out!”

  Suzanne glanced at Rebecca, and they shared a look, as only mothers and daughters can, that said “this may be a wacky idea, but we’re still gonna support our girl.”

  “Posters, huh?” Rebecca asked. “Don’tcha think you’re creepin’ into Dog Leash Dude’s territory a bit there?”

  Hannah’s face blanched the color of the curls piled on top of her head. “My posters are tasteful and necessary, and they’ll be removed the very minute my event concludes.”

  Rebecca chuckled at her all-business tone. “I’ll hold you to that,” she said, not meaning a word of it, but she knew Hannah would meet the challenge regardless.

  “Thanks so much for the treats and the girl chatter,” the shop owner said as she rose to her feet. “Muffykins!” she cooed. “It’s time to go, baby girl. We have work to do!”

  Muffy nuzzled Pip and relinquished her hold on his favorite monkey squeeze toy, then she pranced her way over to her mama. Hannah pecked a kiss on Suzanne’s cheek. “Should I register Pippin for the event?”

  “Uh . . . I’ll get back to you on that.”

  Hannah nodded. “Don’t wait too long. I only have twenty spots, and I’ve no doubt they’ll fill up fast.”

  Rebecca stood and followed Hannah to the door, giving sweet Muffy a good rub behind her ears. “Love you girls. Thanks for stopping by.”

  “I’ll be wanting more details about this new hottie-biscotti coworker of yours, so be prepared to dish.” Hannah’s stern gaze brokered no argument.

  “Uh-huh,” Rebecca said. It was easier just to play along. “Bye for now.” She opened the door and blew kisses to her beloved friend and her furry sidekick while visions of Mr. Hottie-Biscotti danced in her head.

  6

  Will carted the last of his boxes into the basement apartment and smiled politely as Carmen held the door open for him and followed him inside. He’d assured her he could manage the small amount of clothing, bedding, and other essential items without help, but the older woman insisted, saying she did this with all her tenants. “So . . . that’s everything,” he told her, hoping she’d take her cue and leave. “Thanks again for your help.”

  She scanned the small amount of luggage he’d placed in the center of the room—a hockey bag, a suitcase, and three boxes. “Well, you sure do pack light, sugar. Where do you hide all the fancy equipment that keeps your body in such tip-top shape?”

  Will blinked. “I, uh . . .”

  “Or maybe you’re like Ethan and you prefer to run and swim?”

  Where was this Ethan guy? He could really use a little more testosterone right about now. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, a faint “meow” sounded, then an all-black cat slinked from his hiding spot behind the couch.

  “Oh, MoJo. What are you doing down here, silly boy?”

  Not really the type of testosterone he’d been referring to, but, hey, it was better than nothing. This woman really had a thing for the males—of any species.

  He’d been glad the apartment came mostly furnished. The open-concept floor plan was equipped with a couch, a wall-mounted flat-screen TV—with free cable, Carmen had boasted—a double bed, a wardrobe that might just barely hold all his clothing, a small dining table, and an even smaller kitchenette. He didn’t mind cooking, but there weren’t too many gourmet meals he could prepare using only a microwave and a toaster.

  They shared the full kitchen on the main floor of the house. Carmen’s floor. She’d welcomed him to use it any time. But now that he had a better sense of his landlady’s libidinous appetite, he anticipated a lot of take-out in his future. At least he had a mini fridge he could use to store any leftovers.

  MoJo purred in sheer feline delight as Carmen stroked his fur. “My little furball must be here to welcome you,” she said to Will. “He fancies the whole house as his domain, as cats do, but he’s no trouble.”

  Will didn’t remember an intrusive pet being part of the lease agreement. He’d never had a pet growing up. His mother had forbidden any four-legged creatures from entering the premises, claiming she had an allergy to fur, but he’d been more inclined to believe the pet ban was in place in order to maintain the Whitney household’s pristine image. To the outside world, that is. To him, that image had long ago been tarnished.

  MoJo sidled up next to him and threaded himself through his splayed legs. Aww, maybe this guy’s not so bad. Will ducked down to pet him. The cat allowed two strokes before glaring at Will, showing him his behind, and then curling up into a ball three feet away. On second thought . . .

  “Well, I’ll leave you two to bond,” Carmen said, smiling cheekily. She took a few drawn out strides toward the staircase that led up to the main floor. “Oh, I almost forgot!” Spinning around to face him once more, she dipped her hand into the pocket of her floor-length skirt and pulled out two keys on a silver keychain. She jangled them enticingly as she closed the distance that separated them. The way she carried herself in her bohemian-like attire reminded Will of a dancer a touch past her prime. “For you, handsome,” she said, poised to drop them in his hand.

  He stretched out his palm and waited for her to release them. But she didn’t. She appeared to be gazing at his hand, transfixed by whatever she saw. Jeez. Did this woman have some kind of hand fetish, too?

  “Those are nice, big hands you have there,” she said, breaking the awkward silence. “One day you’ll have to let me read those palms of yours.” When she met his eyes, she looked more earnest than amorous, giving him hope that the statement wasn’t a euphemism.

  “Uh, yeah, maybe.”

  Finally, she surrendered the keys, and he clutched them tightly in his fist as if they could protect him from her advances. “Both are keys to the house,” she explained. “One’s a backup in case you need it, angel eyes.”

  “Thanks.” He nodded. She didn’t budge an inch. “Guess I’d better get settled, then. Get myself ready for tomorrow.”

  Carmen gave him a wistful smile. “Very well, dear. Just remember to be yourself tomorrow. If your heart is in the right place, they’ll know it. You don’t need to stand on your head for teenagers.”

  Surprised by the sage advice, Will thanked her again. Quirky, flirty, but perhaps not entirely out of her mind.

  “And if you get hungry, there’s a freshly baked coffee cake on the counter upstairs. Don’t work too hard, sweet thing.” With one last pat on MoJo’s slumbering head, she swished her way to the staircase and out of sight.

  Blowing out a sigh of relief, Will pocketed the keys she’d given him. He glanced at the pile of his belongings on the floor and made for the couch instead. Plush cushions supported
his weight. He stretched his feet out, pleased to find they didn’t hang over the edge. Furniture wasn’t always accommodating to people over six feet tall. His head leaned back against the arm and he closed his eyes, remembering the set of keys he’d accepted from another woman four days earlier. Had it been four days already? No amount of time could erase the image of her from his mind, but he prayed she’d be able to forget every idiotic word that came out of his mouth. He wasn’t sure how, but they needed to start fresh.

  His phone vibrated in his pocket, startling him from his thoughts. He snatched it and saw his brother’s name on the screen. “Hey,” he answered, void of enthusiasm. He wasn’t exactly thrilled to talk to Joey after he’d left him high and dry at their parents’ house, but he’d never turn down a call from family, either.

  “Hey, man,” Joey said. He could tell by his brother’s tone that he knew he was in the proverbial doghouse. “Listen, I know you’re probably busy, but I just wanted to wish you luck for tomorrow.”

  Will gaped at the wall in front of him, not even fazed by the painting depicting a child sitting inside a sliced avocado. “You shock the hell out of me sometimes.”

  “By what? Revealing I’m not a complete shit?”

  Will chuckled. “Yeah, pretty much. I can’t believe you remembered I start my practicum tomorrow.”

  “I might have made a note in my calendar. Don’t tell anyone, though. It’ll ruin my street cred.”

  “What street cred?” Will shot back.

  “In all seriousness, bro, I’m sorry for not having your back like I promised I would. That was a dick move. But to make up for it . . .” Will felt his phone buzz with an incoming text. “Check your messages.”

  Will navigated to his text messages and clicked on the image his brother sent. It was a picture of their father sitting at the dinner table, his eyes bulging out of his skull and his mouth pulled into a tight, angry line. The otherwise unflappable Edward Whitney looked about as flapped as Will had ever witnessed. “When did you take this?” he asked.