“I hate seeing Aunt Verda upset,” Amberlynn said, and something in her voice made me worry.
“Don’t do anything,” I warned.
She smiled at me, and I had a very bad feeling that something might already be in the works.
“So what’s Michael like?” Paige asked. “He’s always kept to himself, seemed pretty private since high school.”
“What was he like in school?” I asked. Michael and Shelly had been behind me in school. I hadn’t really known them. But they were only a year behind my sister Paige.
“He was popular. Soccer star and all that. Everyone was sure he was going pro.”
“And then he got Shelly knocked up and he decided to put a ring on it,” Amberlynn added. She’d been a year behind him and Shelly, so had no doubt had a front row seat to the scandal.
“Which was the noble thing to do,” I pointed out, even though I was not one of Shelly’s greatest admirers, based on her performance at the house.
“The noble thing is to not knock up your high school girlfriend,” Wiley suggested. He elbowed Amber at this comment and I had a very unwanted vision of the two of them as teenagers. I knew they’d probably been having sex, but having confirmation of it was more than I needed at Sunday dinner.
“I know none of my girls were being so irresponsible at that early age,” Mom said. “But it’s just like a Tucker to tempt some poor girl into making terrible decisions.” She offered this last bit looking right at me, and I knew she meant the house. If Mom knew about the other horrible decisions I’d been tempted to make when I’d seen Michael without his shirt on!
“Michael didn’t tempt me into this thing with the house. Mrs. Easter gave it to us.”
“So ridiculous,” Mom said.
“Did you know she was both a Tucker and a Tanner?” I asked. “Her parents fell in love when they were teens, and got married when Robert Tucker came home from World War I.” Mom actually looked impressed when I shared this information. She loved old family stories, and maybe learning that the house was actually related directly to our family line would convince her the Tuckers weren’t all evil.
“That’s romantic,” Paige said.
“It was,” I said, nodding. “Their parents didn’t approve of the relationship.”
“Very Romeo and Juliet,” Cormac said.
“I think it was,” I said. “Her letter said they believed their relationship was fated in the stars.”
“Lord,” Wiley said, leaning back in his chair.
“What?” Amberlynn asked him. “I think that’s romantic.”
“That’s a load of hooey,” Wiley said. “Love is a choice. Not something that’s fated.”
“Hmmm,” Mom said, standing. “Clear the plates, girls. I need you to taste some things for dessert.” I was glad for the change of subject.
Mom often tried out new cafe ideas on us. “Ooh, what is it this time?” Cormac asked. He said Mom’s cherry-themed treats were responsible for him falling in love with Paige.
“Halloween is around the corner,” Mom said. “I’ve got some ghost poofs and goblin toes for you to try.”
“Yum,” Wiley said sarcastically, and Mom shot him a look. She was, historically, not the biggest fan of my sister’s boyfriend, who embraced sarcasm like religion.
That night, after everyone had left and I was once again lying in my childhood bedroom, I picked up the phone stared at it. I wanted to talk to Michael, but couldn’t explain to myself why. I missed him, which I knew made no real sense. I put the phone down and sighed, but the lonely emptiness of my room made me pick it up again. I sighed and texted Michael.
Addie: Did you stop by the house at all? See how the floors are coming? I’m not sure I’ll survive a week at Mom’s.
There was no immediate reply, and I put the phone down on the nightstand, trying to ignore the swirl of disappointment in my stomach. Michael was not obligated to text with me at night. We weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend. Hell, we weren’t anything. Why did recognition of that fact make me feel so sad?
19
Virge in Lavender
Michael
I waited a long time to respond to Addie’s text. Longer than I wanted to, and that was the whole problem. Seeing her note—knowing she was thinking of me at night, feeling like a kid with a crush—all of it was wrong. Shelly was threatening to take the one thing that made my life make sense, and if I let myself think about any of what I wanted with Addie, I was putting everything at risk. I couldn’t afford to get distracted. I wouldn’t get myself into a situation where I was putting my son any place other than first in my list of priorities. If I let myself become infatuated, if I nursed this misplaced desire I was starting to realize I had for Addie, I might end up failing at the only thing I was managing to do right in my life.
Addie was like a bright spot that had appeared in an otherwise dark sky. I’d wandered through the murk for years, doing what was expected and doing everything in my power to be a good father to my son, because that was all that mattered. But now there was Addie, and some whisper in the back of my mind saying that maybe she mattered to me too, even if she wasn’t supposed to. Telling me that maybe I wanted her too, even if I couldn’t have her.
The time we’d spent together so far had been special to me, even though most of it had been focused on cleaning up an old house. There was something about her, something that made me want to be near her, learn more of what went on in her head. And it was the most interesting thing I’d encountered in a long time. I didn’t want to give her up.
I picked up my phone.
Michael: Haven’t been by today but I’ll check progress tomorrow. You doing okay?
Addie: Mom is a lot.
Michael: I can imagine. And I mean that in the nicest way possible.
Addie: I’ll survive. But when choosing between ghostly shrieking and Mom’s questions and judgment, I’m pretty sure ghosts win.
Michael: That’s saying something.
Addie: It would probably be hard for anyone to live at home again at 35. Plus, she liked Luke and keeps suggesting I try to work things out with him.
I paused. I hadn’t considered that Addie might be thinking of going back to her ex. An unwanted churn of jealousy erupted in my gut.
Michael: Are you considering it?
Addie: Definitely not. Turns out I have a shred of self-respect left.
The jealousy fizzled out.
Michael: Good.
Addie: ?
Crap. I realized I had no say at all in what she did, and offering an opinion about her ex was probably the wrong way to go.
Michael: I just mean that I think you deserve better.
Addie: That’s nice.
Did she not believe me?
Michael: There’s something about you. You’re special. Don’t take anything less than you deserve.
I cringed after hitting send, wondering if I’d said way too much. There was a significant pause, and my stomach twisted. Definitely too much.
Then, after a full five minutes:
Addie: Thank you. That means a lot to me. I have similar advice for you, you know.