The Happiness in Between

by Grace Greene

  They sat until the deer moved on. The last one spotted them, and, after a frozen pause, she took off, suddenly seeing she’d been left behind.

  “A good girl, and where did it get me?” she asked aloud. Honey rolled onto her back. “It got me here, Honey,” Sandra whispered. “I’m here, and that’s good enough.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  After two days of concentrated effort, Sandra assessed her progress.

  The patio block was in. She needed to wet it down again to settle it and then add another layer of sand over it, sweeping it into the joints. Her fingernails would grow back, and that was the best thing she could say about those poor broken nubs.

  There had been no word from Colton or Aaron, but no sign of Trent, either, so that was a relief. Maybe he really had gone home to Martinsville.

  She had almost finished painting the table, and up next would be the fencing. That intimidated her. Maybe she’d trim the bushes first while she considered how best to approach the fencing. She had a vague idea that the fence wire would settle into those upright slots on the fence stakes, and if she steadied the roll against the nearby stakes, it might not fight her too much. Maybe. Fencing didn’t seem like a one-person job.

  She examined the table and chairs looking for missed spots.

  “Your patio is almost ready for you. Not half bad if I say so myself.”

  Honey woofed in agreement.

  “You deserve a w-a-l-k.” Not until after supper, though, so she had to spell it out. A walk down Shoemaker Road was a good way to stretch the muscles and relieve tension before calling it a day. She was so pleased. Colton, assuming they resumed their friendship eventually, would surely be impressed. Barbara would be absolutely thrilled. No question.

  After a light supper, she called to Honey. Honey had been recovering for a week and seemed back to normal. Sandra felt pretty confident that Honey would stay with her during the walk, so she took the leash but didn’t fasten it to her collar.

  They were a short distance down the dirt road when Honey stopped and looked back. Sandra turned. Sammy and Aaron were walking toward them. She stood there, staring, realizing how filthy she was, yet hoping Colton would come into view. He didn’t.

  “Hi, Aaron.”

  “Hi, Miss Sandra. Going for a walk?”

  “We are. Would you like to join us?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She nodded. His limp was evident. Honey and Sammy walked ahead of them, sometimes stopping to sniff a ditch or investigate a noise in the outermost edges of the fields.

  “The patio looks good,” Aaron said.

  “Thank you.” She kept it polite. No questions about Colton. Aaron was a child, after all. “The fence is next, but it’s intimidating.”

  “Dad will take care of it if you wait. He’s been working extra-long days lately, making up for the rainy days while he can.”

  “Is that so?” She said it coolly. “I thought he was angry or annoyed with me.”

  “You mean about that Trent guy?”

  “Yeah. Something like that.” Or about honesty, or openness? Really, how on earth would it have sounded to a guy—even a really nice, helpful guy, but one she’d met only days before—that she was technically still married? Kind of presumptuous. She’d been attracted to him, though, and apparently he was to her also. Mother was right. Did Sandra hate being alone so much? Was she so fearful of depending on herself that she would get close to the first male, still a stranger, who came along?

  “Well, we’ll see about the fence. I might give it a try. It isn’t fair to expect your dad to spend so much time helping me. I could never have gotten this far on my own, though. I’m very grateful to both of you.”

  His cheeks pinked up, and he didn’t speak for a few minutes. The old schoolhouse came into view. The dogs ran ahead. It was nice Honey wasn’t traumatized. Sandra might’ve been, but if Honey wasn’t, then who was Sandra to whine?

  “The hole was under there? You called it a pit?”

  She nodded. “It was very dark and scary. I’d say pit sounds right, wouldn’t you?”

  Aaron nodded. He joined the dogs at the schoolhouse and peered through the open foundation. His limp had vanished again. Eventually, he’d be able to give it up completely. She smiled, feeling that kinship again. Patience, she told herself. Everything worthwhile takes time.

  “It’s deep,” she said. “My aunt said some kids dug it out a long time ago.”

  “Lucky that guy came along.”

  His words startled her.

  “To help you get out?” he prompted.

  Sandra took a breath, then said, “Do you understand why I didn’t mention him when I told you about rescuing Honey?”

  “Because you didn’t want to talk about him, right? He’s mean or something?”

  “That’s right. No excuses, though. I’m an adult. I should’ve been upfront and honest about him.”

  “Nah, I understand.”

  “Do you?”

  “Sure. I used to get teased a lot until my dad worked it out for me to study at home while my leg gets better. I’d come home, and he’d ask how my day was, but I didn’t like talking about those jerks and what they would say to me, so I wouldn’t tell him.” He kicked at a rock. “I knew they were bullies, that it meant stuff was wrong with them, not me, and all that stuff grown-ups say, but when they said mean things, it felt true. The way they acted wasn’t my fault, but it still felt like my fault. You know what I mean? Like, if there wasn’t something wrong with me, then how would they think up that stuff?” He shrugged. “I didn’t want to talk about them at all, not to anyone.”

  She did know. “What did they tease you about?”

  He surprised her by laughing. “I’m a nerd. They teased me about that, and so I got all stupid and tried to do tricks on the skateboard, and now I’m a cripple. I’m pretty sure you noticed.” He patted his leg. “And then they teased me about that, too.”

  Inwardly, Sandra cringed. Outwardly, she touched his yellow hair and smiled. “I noticed you are smart and clever and talented.”

  “Thanks. But it’s hard being different. Sometimes I’d rather be big and mean. No one would mess with me then.” He shrugged. “It’s not so bad if you have someone to be different with. I had a friend, but his family moved away. After that, well, I still didn’t fit in with those guys, and then I was alone.”

  Trent came to mind. “Trust me, Aaron—you don’t want to be mean. There’s no future in it. Some people are so insecure and so messed up that they try to make others feel more messed up than they are.”

  “Sure. I know. But knowing doesn’t make it feel better.”

  “I know that, too.”

  They resumed walking, and the dogs caught up. They stopped near the bridge. Beyond it and that next short stretch of Shoemaker Road, cars and trucks whooshed along the state road. Over the sound of the creek running and with the buffer of the woods between them and the state-owned asphalt, Sandra heard the sound of traffic. Her hand twitched. She considered the leash.

  “Let’s turn back. I don’t want Honey near the main road.”

  Honey and Sammy ran onto the bridge but not across it. They were more interested in sniffing below where the bridge supports met the weedy grass and mud and rock. Sandra didn’t know what they found so intriguing. Compelling smells? Maybe tasty creatures or other potential snacks that might not be good for an old dog’s recovery.

  “If she falls in, she’s on her own,” Sandra said. Then she called out, “Honey! Come here. Here, Honey.”

  Both dogs looked up, and Aaron whistled. Sammy came immediately, and Honey followed close behind. They all turned and headed back.

  “I’m glad you came to visit.”

  “I’m glad, too. I didn’t really start out to visit, but Sammy was leading the way, so . . . I guess she missed Honey.” He grinned.

  She stopped herself from asking more. For instance, was Colton angry? Would he really come back and finish the fence? All
were self-serving questions no matter how you looked at it, so she didn’t ask.

  “What about that Trent guy?”

  “What about him?”

  “Are you still married to him?”

  “Yes, but . . . yes. I’m not going to be married to him much longer, though. I haven’t gotten all the official legal stuff done yet.”

  “But he followed you here?”

  “He did. I’m surprised he remembered my Aunt Barbara lived out here.” She was assuming he’d lost her trail back at Mom and Dad’s house. Maybe he hadn’t. Somehow he’d found her here, and that was what mattered.

  “What’s wrong?” Aaron asked.

  How quickly ugly memories had swamped her present. She touched his shoulder.

  “I was just thinking. I guess he doesn’t want the marriage to be over, but it is. We tried twice. That’s enough, I think.”

  He nodded. During the conversation about teasing, his limp had returned. She wondered if he noticed how it came and went.

  “What about you?” she asked. “What do you do for fun? Are there any kids your age around?”

  “I know some guys through the homeschooling program, and I have Sammy.” He paused. “Besides, Dad goes where the jobs are. When he’s finished at the new subdivision, we’ll move on to the next jobsite.” He showed a little swagger as he added, “We like that I’m free of schedules and stuff so I can go along with him.”

  She felt a blip of sadness. Moving on? Both them, and her, too, when Barbara returned.

  “But if you ever want to play a game or anything, let me know. I’m pretty good at chess.”

  Sandra laughed. “I’ll bet you are. I’m not. Maybe you can teach me.”

  “I was thinking about something.” His expression was suddenly serious.

  “What’s that?”

  “I wondered if you might be interested in going somewhere with me. You can drive, and I wouldn’t have to bug Dad.”

  “What is it?”

  “Remember that shelter? The one where you got upset?”

  She stammered, “Y-yes, I was upset, but—”

  “No, I get it. It’s hard having them all looking at you. It’s like you can feel all their thoughts and wishes hitting you . . . like spitballs or something.” He shrugged. “It’s hard seeing them, knowing they need a home, but you’re helpless to help.”

  Helpless. She shivered and rubbed her arms. “What did you have in mind?”

  “I want to visit them. Talk to them.”

  “Won’t you get their hopes up?”

  “I guess, but everyone needs hope, don’t they? Dogs, too.” He sighed. “I saw something about kids reading to dogs in shelters. The dogs enjoyed it, or it seemed like they did. I thought I might try it.”

  Could she go back there? With all those dogs and their needy eyes? Yes. She could. “Sure. I’ll go along. Maybe we can find some other ways to help out, too.”

  They stopped in front of the house. Aaron looked subdued again.

  “Do you mind if I ask you something else?”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “You said that when you were a kid, you got teased about your name.”

  “Cassandra? Yeah, but like you said, people who are going to tease you will find something, no matter how hard you try to fit in.”

  “Yeah. So I was wondering . . . you said that teacher suggested Sandra was a better name, and you told people to call you that instead. Are you sorry?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s kind of like a nickname but not really.”

  “I’m the same person, no matter what I’m called.”

  He shrugged. “I guess that’s true. But it would be different, you know, if you’d decided on your own. Did your mom or dad mind? I mean, they were the ones who chose the name Cassandra, right?”

  She stopped and tried to recall. “They were surprised, I think. They didn’t make a big deal out of it. If they had, if they’d cared a lot, I would’ve stuck with Cassandra.” A bird took flight from a nearby tree, and she watched it soar higher and higher. “It seemed like it didn’t matter much to them.”

  “They were probably trying to be . . . what do they call it? Supportive?”

  Sandra looked down at him, his skinny frame, his tousled hair, and said, “Maybe.”

  “Did you ever regret it? Changing yourself because you thought it might help you fit in?”

  Stunned, her careful expression flickered for a heartbeat, and Aaron must’ve seen it.

  He spoke abruptly. “Sorry. That was rude, wasn’t it? I’d better get on home.” He patted his leg. “Come on, Sammy.”

  “Aaron,” she called out.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Be smart. Be yourself. Don’t change who you are to suit anyone.”

  Aaron grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Sandra waved. “’Bye,” she said, still feeling oddly unbalanced.

  “’Bye,” he echoed and took off across the yard with Sammy.

  Sandra looked up at the sky and laughed. The joke had been on her. She’d changed her name and still hadn’t fit in. How had her parents felt about it? She’d never wondered.

  Aaron, heading toward the woods with Sammy close behind him, looked back when she laughed. He raised his hand in another wave, and she returned it. Honey followed the boy and dog at first, but then realized Sandra wasn’t keeping up. Honey turned and looked questioningly at Sandra before trotting back to where she stood.

  At some basic level, didn’t everyone want to fit in? Was it a bad thing? Not necessarily, but it could be. Maybe it depended on the lengths one would go to fit in, blend in, with the rest of one’s world. Was Aaron considering trying harder to fit in? She thought that would be a mistake, but she sympathized with the instinct to belong.

  Instead of relaxing her, this walk had backfired. It had gone from solitary to having company, to sharing deep, complex, emotional topics. And it had been delightfully satisfying.

  Already in the backyard, she walked over to the fencing and wrapped her fingers around the rolled bale. She’d give it a true effort tomorrow. This evening she’d get the feel of it and overcome her anxiety about attempting to erect the fence.

  Sandra negotiated the bale over to the first stake, then dropped it on its side and unrolled it until she was past the second stake. Then she stood it on end, leaned it against the second stake. She could see it was doable but required skill and experience she didn’t have. And a second set of hands. Maybe if she’d had the Internet and could’ve done some online research . . . She could go to the hardware store and ask questions. Yes, that she could do. In fact, she’d do that in the morning before getting dirty in the garden area.

  She gave up the trial effort in favor of a soak in the tub. The ache eased out of her shoulders, arms, and back. Even the tension. It wasn’t only about the labor she’d done today. She was taking control. Responsibility was a heavy burden, but the lack of control was the true anxiety-maker.

  Finally, she climbed carefully from the tub, toweled down, and then enjoyed her aunt’s rose-scented powder. She felt pampered and decided she could get used to this. Alone wasn’t so bad.

  Honey had already tucked herself into bed on her pillow. Sandra did a quick survey of the doors, including flipping on the outside lights and such, took a glass of water up with her, and settled into the bed while her muscles were still relaxed. She suspected she might be sore in the morning.

  She awoke in the night. The outside light lit the back window. It glowed in the dark room. She listened and heard nothing, but the room felt a little warm and musty. She wished she’d left that window open. She reached toward the nightstand for her glass of water and saw Honey. She was standing in the doorway, not moving, and appeared to be watching Sandra. When Sandra moved, Honey barked. It was one low bark, not much more than a chuffing sound.

  Sandra froze, listening intently. Nothing. She ran her hand up her arm, feeling the goose bumps, and wondered what was going on. Di
d Honey need to go out?

  In the near dark, the dog’s eyes were bright and unblinking. Sandra kicked off her sheet and blanket, then set her feet carefully upon the wooden floor and stood. Honey was gone.

  Sandra didn’t follow her immediately but went to the window and pushed aside the thin curtain.

  The exterior light on the pole and by the back door lit the backyard, creating bright circles that overlapped and intersected and shadows that stretched long and dark across them. Sandra saw no movement and nothing that didn’t belong.

  She went into Barbara’s room to look out the front-facing window. Nothing unexpected. Night. Trees. The glimpse of fallow fields across the road.

  No visitors. No flashlights.

  She would’ve heard Trent’s truck . . . unless he’d left it parked down the road and walked up.

  His obsession frustrated her. It would be easy for him to find someone else, maybe someone who would actually appreciate his overwhelming and controlling personality. Maybe in his own crazy way, he loved her, and this was how he showed it. What about his own life? His job?

  He wasn’t here, and still he interfered with her life.

  Honey was waiting by the front door downstairs. Sandra didn’t bother with the leash but let her out. She waited on the porch while Honey went down the steps.

  She paused by a bush to do her business, but then continued across the grass to where the dirt road began. There, she stopped and faced down the road, standing and staring. Sandra watched her from the porch but saw nothing out of the ordinary. She called to Honey to come back. Honey gave up on whatever had her attention and returned to the porch, trotted up the steps and into the house.

  What had that been about? Something was going on, but Sandra couldn’t make sense of it.

  Sandra felt well rested despite the middle-of-the-night excitement with Honey. She fed Honey and fixed breakfast for herself. She made a list and took a couple of twenties from Barbara’s envelope. She was headed to the hardware store for advice and to the grocery store for bread, milk, and eggs. She could live indefinitely on a few staples combined with what her aunt had packed into her pantry, cupboards, and fridge.