What She Wanted Page 11

  He mumbled something under his breath about wanting to go back to work.

  “Dean’s here. I’ve got to go.”

  I dragged the door shut behind me.

  Dean shoved the passenger door open for me, and I slid onto the seat beside him. “Thanks for driving me. The weatherman says we’re in for more thundershowers by nightfall.” I loved the rain, but an excuse to ride with Dean was always nice, not to mention a downpour could ruin my bag and my camera. Lightning was also a little terrifying while walking the mile home. “It’s getting harder and harder to leave Mark alone. He hates being stuck in there, but I have to work sometime.”

  Dean slung his arm over the seatback and pulled the shifter into reverse. “What’s he doing now?”

  “Watching daytime television and regretting his life.”

  “He still hasn’t warmed up, huh?”

  “No. Sometimes I think he wants to connect with me, but something stops him. That could be an overly optimistic interpretation. I don’t know.”

  “How about I stop by after I drop you off and see if I can find a game to watch with him? Maybe he’s been angry and alone so long he doesn’t know how to start over.”

  “Maybe he thinks loving me would betray my mom. She was his daughter, not me.”

  He forced a hard smile. “Katy, you’re his granddaughter. Your mom wanted him to love you. Whatever is wrong with him, it’s not that. Don’t think that. Maybe he regrets that it took a near-death experience to snap him out of his perpetually ugly mood.”

  “Thanks.”

  He turned the volume on the radio higher. “That’s what friends are for.”

  The town sped by as we barreled along the short span of county road into town. Families rode bicycles single file along the shoulder. One mom had a baby seat on the back of her ten-speed. Two dads led the way. My old twenty-minute walk had been reduced to a five-minute drive the day Dean offered to give me a ride. He’d driven me every time since.

  Dean parked in the small lot outside Essence and shut down the engine. “Heard any more from your dad?”

  “No.”

  “Are you okay with that?”

  I raised my vibrating phone into view. “I don’t know.” I rejected an incoming call from Ray’s and set the phone between us on the bench seat. The jerk had gone from pushy to borderline psychotic when I told him I’d changed my mind about the apartment.

  Dean poked my leg with his finger. “You can talk to me.”

  “It’s complicated.” I wrested my camera from the bag and peeked through the viewfinder. Dean’s continued eagerness to help confused me. Next to Heidi, my lifelong crush had magically become my closest friend. It was weird.

  He pulled his ball cap low on his forehead and posed an elbow over the back of his seat. “Life is.”

  I snapped the picture.

  He levered the hat off his head and slid it onto mine. His fingers lingered on the brim. “Cute.” He raked his hands through his hair and made a pair of finger guns.

  I centered him in the frame.

  He smiled and held a wink.

  Snap. “I want to talk to him about what his choices did to my life, but I also don’t. I’m not sure it matters. I don’t want to believe he cares.”

  “I get it. If you don’t open up, then he can’t hurt you again.” He grabbed my arm and towed my back against his chest, knocking my bag onto the floorboard. “Whoops.” He weaved his long arms through mine, supporting my weight with his body and extending the camera another four inches from my fingertips. He hovered his pointer finger over the shutter release. “This button?”

  “Yes.” He snapped the shot.

  “Now smile.”

  The heat from his chest warmed my back and stole my breath. Sunlight through the dash and windows heated everything. Scents of his cologne, shampoo, and toothpaste saturated the confined space.

  “How do you know I’m not smiling already?”

  “Probably because someone other than you is touching your camera.”

  I smiled.

  Click.

  “Now, pretend you’re stupid. A gangster. Betty Boop.” He snapped a shot of each face I made before turning the camera around to check his work in the little window.

  I looked small in the frame, resting against his broad chest. My expressions were goofy. His ridiculously handsome face was completely unfair. His eyes were warm with emotion that changed his smile, shot by shot.

  He lowered the camera. “I’m not a very good photographer. Maybe I should leave this to you next time.”

  I peeled myself off him and turned on the seat. The idea of next time sent unreasonable hope through my mind. “I should probably go inside.”

  “Yeah. I’ll check on Mark and let you know how it goes. What time do you get off?”

  “Eight.”

  “Can I drive you home?”

  I nodded. “I’d like that.”

  He drummed a rhythm on his steering wheel with both thumbs. “I don’t want to make Heidi jealous by bogarting too much of her time with you.”

  I sighed. “No. She likes that we’re hanging out. She thinks there’s something else going on between us, but, either way, I think she’s happy I’m happy.”

  “You’re happy?”

  The pleasure in his voice stirred something in my heart. “Yeah. Despite everything that’s happened this summer, I’m pretty okay.”

  He pursed his lips and bobbed his head. “Good.”

  I cracked the door open, reluctant to leave.

  “Why does Heidi think there’s something else going on between us?”

  Way to go, big mouth. I forced my face his way. “You know Heidi. She’s obsessed with hookups.”

  “Right.”

  The door to Essence swung open, and Sylvia moseyed onto the sidewalk, a cell phone pressed to one ear. She waved when she noticed me dawdling.

  “I’ve got to go. See you at eight?”

  “See you at eight.”

  Dean pulled away, and I refocused on Sylvia’s hard expression. Her smart red dress was vintage chic and structured. It was the sort of piece models wore on the cover of Vogue or Vanity Fair.

  She puffed a vapor cigarette and rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” she told the phone. “Of course not. Don’t be silly.”

  I went inside and sat at my desk, allowing her privacy. Whoever she was talking to wasn’t making her happy, and I didn’t envy them that.

  I spun on my leather office chair and plugged my camera into the computer. I transferred my best pictures into the shared drive and moved others to a personal file on the desktop. The pictures we’d taken in Dean’s truck were perfect. I filtered them in black and white like an old photo booth and played with borders. The way he looked at me sent shivers down my spine and raised the hairs on my arms. I turned my cheek against the shoulder of my shirt and inhaled his cologne.

  I cared more for him than I should, but that wasn’t anything new, and how could I not? He’d helped me hold it together night after night when all I really wanted to do was curl into my bed and disappear. He made me laugh. He distracted my thoughts. He was checking on Grandpa so I could relax and help Sylvia with her gala plans.

  The front door burst open and Sylvia entered with a flourish. “Men. They’re primates. The lot of them.”

  “Bad day?”

  She exhaled slowly, shaking her head. Her attention landed on my monitor, where Dean smiled against my temple, eyes lowered for a look at my face. “Who’s the lucky guy? My goodness. He’s fantastic. He could model. Look at that jawline and those cheekbones. Oh, to be young again. How long have you been dating?”

  I closed the file and folded my hands on my lap. “We’re just friends.”

  Sylvia cocked a perfect brow and grinned. “Oh, honey. I’ve seen friends. I’ve even been a friend. Whatever was going on in that photo was something else entirely. You’d better get it sorted bef
ore you leave for film school.”

  “I’m not leaving.” We’d talked about this. “I haven’t applied for student loans or admission.”

  “So, apply. If you don’t get the loans, you’ll get a scholarship.”

  “Even if I could, my work isn’t ready, and I’m caring for Mark during his recovery.”

  “Mark has a whole town to care for him. Leave that to us.” She cast a wayward glance at my blank screen. “Either way, you’d better address the situation with the boy, or that’s going to be heartbreaking. Meanwhile, get me some photos for the gala. I don’t have anything I want to display, and you’re purposefully avoiding this request. Tick. Tock.” She sashayed away and closed her office door.

  I didn’t have anything for the gala.

  Sylvia didn’t leave her office. No one called. No one stopped in. I nearly pounced on my cell phone when it rang.

  Dean’s sweet tenor raised from the speaker to my ears. “How’s work?”

  “Awesome.” The sarcasm in my voice was thick for no good reason. I’d formatted and doctored shots for my portfolio and photo blog until after seven. It had been a productive night so far. Still, Sylvia’s bizarre comments on heartbreak irked me. What did she know?

  “That good, huh?”

  “Yeah. How’s Mark?”

  He made an oof sound. “He’s hell-bent on mowing the grass. He says I kept the blade too high and should’ve gone east and west, not north and south.”

  I chuckled. “What were you thinking?”

  “I wasn’t. Obviously.”

  “Well, he can’t mow in this humidity.”

  “That’s what I told him.”

  I renamed a handful of open files for Sylvia’s review. “Did you guys eat yet?”

  “Yes. It was delicious. Mark had seconds.”

  I smiled. “No, he didn’t.”

  “Yes, he did. He complained about wasteful people and tasked himself with finishing up the extra so it didn’t go to waste.”

  Maybe Heidi was right. Mark was too unhappy to die. What could he complain about in heaven? It’s too peaceful here. Don’t you angels realize there’re people on earth mowing grass from east to west? “Are you still coming to get me?”

  “Yeah, but be ready. I want to hurry back. I don’t think we should leave this guy alone for long. He’s pacing the backyard now.”

  “I’ll meet you in the lot.”

  I pulled the journal from my bag and formulated a new plan for the rest of my summer.

  When Dean picked me up, I jumped into the cab with purpose. “I’ve decided to complete Mom’s list without Mark’s help. I can’t force him to be nice or useful, but I can do this myself.” I backpedaled. “With a little help on a possible abduction for the fishing portion of my summer.”

  “Bring it.” Dean pulled out of the parking spot. “What’s first?”

  I flipped to the right page and pointed. “This.”

  He slowed at the red light and took a quick look. “Love your grandpa. Hug him?” He laughed before taking a right. “So, it’s a challenging list.”

  “Yep. Everything after this should be easy.”

  Dean dropped his hand over mine on the seat and squeezed. “You’ve got this, and Heidi and I have you.”

  I wasn’t convinced, but I was determined.

  “Hey.” Dean’s soft voice pulled my attention his way. “I believe you can do anything, even soften a hurting old heart like Mark’s.”

  Hopefully, he was right.

  Chapter 13

  I worked on my relationship with Mark for the next two weeks. I’d even slipped my arms around his middle and squeezed a few times, and neither of us died. He tensed as if I’d Tasered him, but he didn’t scold me or push me away, so that was something. Between meeting his recovery needs, working at Essence, and avoiding Joshua, I barely had five minutes to breathe. I was exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally. I’d barely made a dent in Mom’s list, and the summer was slipping away. Mark was zero help. Worse than useless some days. He was the equivalent of a mischievous toddler hell-bent on suicide by physical exertion or taking medication with beer. I was ready to hop the next Greyhound to anywhere.

  Except, I couldn’t leave. I had a list of goals to achieve. I needed Mom to know her sacrifice was worthwhile. Her wishes mattered. I’d started with number one: Love your grandpa, and my heart had changed toward Mark. That much was undeniable. Maybe it wasn’t love, but it was something. He was my responsibility, and I worried about him. I watched his diet and medications, got him to medical appointments and made friends with his doctors. Sometimes I wondered if he thought I’d disappear if he let himself get attached. Maybe that was in my mind, not his, but it was a legit concern for him. What woman in his life hadn’t left?

  I’d also made progress on random acts of kindness and smiling at people. I’d always thought of myself as kind, but now I sought ways to satisfy the goal, like returning Mrs. B’s empty Tupperware dishes with thank-you notes. She’d delivered us a thousand dinners in my lifetime, and I’d never sent her a thank-you note. I also left a slice of chocolate cake for the mailman and wheeled Heidi’s mom’s trash can to the end of the drive when I left their house the other night. People responded in big ways to little things. I liked the rush and made a list of dozens more ways to make neighbors and strangers smile. As it turned out, Mom had been right about smiles being contagious. Almost everyone I smiled at smiled back, even if they weren’t already smiling when they saw me. Older people and children seemed especially susceptible. Mom also wanted me to laugh. That wasn’t something I could do on my own, but Dean made me laugh every day, and so did Heidi. Sylvia was funny, too, but never intentionally. Sometimes I wondered if Dean counted toward Mom’s wish that I make friends. She probably meant more than one new friend a year, but I had to start somewhere.

  “Katy!” Mark’s deep voice bellowed through the house, seeming to hang in the clouds of humidity. “You’re going to be late!”

  I closed my eyes and counted to ten before responding. “Okay!” As if I didn’t know when I needed to leave for work. As if I needed a reminder about my schedule and hadn’t raised myself.

  I opened my eyes and finished reading the new online article about Alcoholics Anonymous. I’d read sites and blogs dedicated to the organization since Joshua announced his affliction to me. I was especially interested in Step 9: making amends. It took more than an apology to complete the step, and he hadn’t really given me an apology before I shut the door in his face. If he was serious about recovery, and two years sober told me he was, then I hadn’t seen the last of him on my porch. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

  The steps rattled and moaned outside my bedroom door. “Katy!”

  I lunged for the doorknob and yanked the barrier open. “I know!”

  Mark stared up from the halfway point on the staircase, clearly out of breath. “Then hurry up.”

  I rapped my knuckles on the open door. “You aren’t supposed to do the stairs.”

  “Yeah? Well, you’re going to be late.”

  I did some rhythmic breathing and renewed my vow to actively love the man who made me completely mental. “Thank you. I’m almost ready.”

  He didn’t make a move to leave.

  For a moment, my frustration subsided and worry swept in. Was he sick or unable to turn safely on the narrow stair? Did he need help getting pointed back to the recliner? His balance hadn’t been right since he came home. He hated when I pointed it out, but it was true. I made a mental note to ask the physical therapist about it at his next appointment.

  Mark’s gaze darted toward the hall window. “If you don’t leave soon, you’ll be stuck in the rain.”

  “Uh-huh.” A normal notion for a typical grandpa. Not mine.

  I cocked a hip against the doorjamb and crossed my too-long arms. “You’re concerned I might get caught in the rain?”

  He’d replaced cotton pajama pants
and a white undershirt with navy Dickies and a work shirt while I showered. He lifted a bushy brow in challenge. “Fine. Get drenched. Ruin your fancy camera, trudging through a typhoon. None of my business. I’m just sharing what the weatherman said.” He pivoted for a schlep down the steps, shoulders rolled forward.

  “What are you up to?”

  He hesitated, waving a hand overhead when he reached solid ground. “You don’t want my help. I’m an old man. Probably heard the forecast wrong.” He shuffled toward the living room and disappeared from sight.

  I’d bet my fancy camera and all my expensive lenses that he didn’t give two flips if my stuff got wet. He wanted to mow the lawn before it rained. He was obsessed with the lawn, and he hated my camera. I’d used an old one I found in the attic for years, then Mark had won five thousand dollars on a Christmas scratch off ticket and given me five hundred as a holiday surprise. I’d thanked the eggnog gods and spent the money before he sobered up and wanted it back. I’d given all of it to Heidi’s mom, along with a stash I’d been collecting, and she’d ordered my dream camera. When Mark realized what I’d bought with his winnings, he’d gone on a silence binge that never really ended.

  Actively loving Mark while simultaneously being his unwanted caretaker was harder than I’d imagined. His tirades had slowly fizzled, but his obsession with the lawn, politics, and bills was enough to give me an ulcer. What could I do about any of it? I couldn’t even get him to stop overexerting himself or eating red meat.

  He also dodged my questions about Joshua like a trained politician. He grew silent or livid if I asked about the night of his heart attack. He said Joshua had left Mom and me when his parents moved away during his senior year. Mom had been dying, and he’d left. Logically, I understood he was a minor and couldn’t have stayed on his own, but emotionally, I felt he should’ve pitched a tent or tried harder or something. How messed up were his parents that they’d left a grandchild and never looked back? Endless imaginary scenarios plagued my tired mind. Maybe Joshua was somehow powerless at seventeen, but he was a grown man now, and if he’d cared for me at all, where had he been all my life? One drunk appearance on the worst day of my life didn’t count as caring.