Reaching Rose (Hunter Hill University Book 3) (12 page)

"What?"

"We live on a farm. My dad raises farm animals. That there sandwich was probably Missy."

I push my plate away. "What?"

"I'm joking."

I pull the plate toward me.

"We don't name them."

"Wait. What?"

"That's my father's business. We provide meat to the local butchers." She must notice the expression on my face, because she says, "It's all organic, if that helps. I'm sorry. Should I have not told you where the ham came from? I thought you knew it came from pig."

"Uh...yeah...I guess it threw me for a moment."

"If it bothers you, I can make you something else."

I laugh now. "No. I'm not a vegetarian. I eat meat. I just never knew anyone who
knew
their ham before they ate it."

"You sure it doesn't bother you?"

"I'm sure." I get back to my sandwich then, "Why are you afraid, Rose, to go back to school?"

She runs her hand along the back of her neck.

"You don't have to answer that." Maybe it makes her nervous to talk about it.

"I don't know why I'm afraid." Her fingers tap the edge of her plate. "Maybe I do. I don't know."

I continue eating while she contemplates why she's afraid.

"It's gonna be all different. People will look at me differently. I don't know. I've never worried before what people thought of me, but..." She doesn't finish her thoughts.

"I think that's something you aren't going to be able to work on by staying hidden on your father's farm."

"Would you like another sandwich? Or...a piece of cheesecake?" She effectively ignores my comment by appealing to my stomach.

"Cheesecake's perfect. Unless, of course, you killed something to make it?"

"Oh my God." She laughs. "I scarred you for life, didn't I?"

"You did. By making me eat poor ol’ Porky."

She shakes her head but continues to laugh. "We just used Chicken Little's eggs. Oh, and my mom made cheese from Lady's milk."

She's got to be joking.

"Lady's our cow. And no, Mom didn't make her own cheese, but she did get the eggs from our chickens."

"Your last name isn't Ingalls, is it?"

"No. It's Walton."

"You think you're quite funny, don't you?"

She hands me the slice of cake she just cut.

"None for you?" After I ask, I realize there are only two bites taken out of her sandwich.

"Nah. I'm good."

"This is...amazing."

"Yeah. Mom's a good cook."

"You don't cook?"

"No. I'm not sure you even put eggs in cheesecake. Beth's the one who takes after my mom."

"Who's the oldest out of you and your sisters?"

"Beth. Then it's me, Patti, and Terri. We're all just about a year apart."

"Wow. That must have been crazy when you guys were younger."

"Dad says the hardest was when we all hit puberty."

"Oh I'm sure. Four teenage girls in the house? God bless him."

I love the sound of Rose's laugh. It's something I'm getting very used to. Plus it's good to know she's reached the point where she can laugh again. I hope she reaches the point where she can feel confident again, and no longer afraid of whatever it is she's afraid of.

"Are your sisters in school?"

"Beth graduated, but she still works with my dad on the farm. She got a degree in agriculture, so...it's actually what she wants to do. Patti and Terri are still in school. Patti goes to County. Terri's up in Syracuse."

"Cool. So..." I take the last bite of my cheesecake and get up to put my dishes in the huge white sink.

"You don't have to do that," Rose says as she gets up to stop me from making my way over.

"I don't mind." I walk around her and do it anyway. She's standing next to me with her plates. As I take them from her hands, I ask, "So what do you do for fun around here? Is there a movie theater nearby? We can go to a movie."

"Really? Um...I haven't been to a movie in so long."

"Then let's go."

"I...I...well, I just got home yesterday. Maybe I should...maybe another time?"

I try to hide my disappointment. I'm not so sure I succeed.

"There's a drive-in theater not too far from here. Maybe we can go next week?" she asks.

"A drive-in? They're still around? I thought they died out in the sixties."

Rose grins. "No, silly, there are still some around."

I step close to her and run my hand up her arm, "So...can I take you next Saturday night?"

Her hand grazes my chest before she snaps it away. "I'd like that."

"Good. It's a date."

"Do you have far to drive?"

"I do. About two and a half, three hours, but I got my music."

She finds the hem of her shirt, plays with it, but sticks her hands in her pockets instead. "You sure you want to go to a movie at night next week? By the time you get home, it'll be late."

"I'm a twenty-two-year-old guy. I sleep during the day."

"You're not sleeping now."

"Because I have a reason to be up."

Rose tucks in her lips and blushes. "Are you one of those sweet talkers?"

"No, actually, I'm not," I say seriously.

"Oh."

"Listen, I know you just got home yesterday. I wasn't thinking about that when I asked if I could come up. I'm sorry if you're tired and need..."

"No, no. I'm happy you came. I didn't mean it like that before. I meant, I just shouldn't go to a movie tonight. I'm sure my mom would be more comfortable if I stuck nearby. That's all I meant."

"Hey. You don't have to explain." I take her wrist and lift her hand from her pocket. Her hand is small and warm in mine. "I should let you get settled and I have a long ride home." I'd drive for days, though, if it meant being with her. "But next week...the drive-in...you and me."

She smiles, squeezes my hand, bites her lip, and nods. "Yeah. That sounds nice."

When a twenty-two-year-old boy stands twelve inches away from a beautiful girl, it takes all his resolve not to whisk her in his arms and kiss the shit out of her. Right now, I'm testing that resolve.

"Wait a minute," she says, unwittingly helping me along. "Before, you said you were twenty-two. I thought you were twenty-one."

I raise my brow.

"November. You said your birthday was November something, but today is only the...oh my God, Ben, today's your birthday."

"Yeah, well."

"Happy Birthday." She tugs my hand and kisses my cheek.

"Thank–"

"Why...I mean...I can't believe you came all the way up here on your birthday. Why?"

"I can't think of anywhere else I'd rather spend it." Lame. Pathetic and lame. True story, though. I can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be...because I can't think of anyone else I'd rather be with.

ROSE

At Sunday morning's breakfast table, Mom is wearing a goofy grin. She wants so badly to ask me about Ben, and I'm trying to ignore her, but I don't know how long I can hold out. Last night she tried to ask, but I excused myself in the middle of dinner, feigning fatigue.

I don't want to talk about Ben. Yesterday was wonderful. Being with Ben was comfortable and fun, but I'm not sure I want to take things further. He'll be going back to school, baseball, getting back to his life. I'll be here, feeding the chickens and picking up poop. The only thing on my mind will be what Ben is doing and who he's with. He's an athlete with a life. Ben might be showing interest in me now, but it's probably because he's bored. Whether it's schoolwork, practice, baseball, or two-legged girls, he'll have plenty to keep him busy once he's back in school.

"So...you like Ben?" My mother asks anyway.

"He's okay. He's just a friend."

Beth narrows her eyes, and I subtly shake my head for her to keep quiet.

"Oh. I was under the impression it was more than that," Mom says.

"Nope."

"But..."

"Sam, leave her alone," my dad insists. "She doesn't wanna talk about him."

Thanks, Daddy.

Mom doesn't pry anymore, but she looks hurt. When things are going well, I'm very open to talking to my mother, but when I'm not sure where things stand, I'd rather keep my thoughts to myself. I hope Mom understands that.

***

After a fairly boring Sunday spent mostly in my room, on Monday morning, I get back on the farm, my brown work boots unfamiliar on my feet. It's been so long since I've worn them. Getting around the farm is tricky with my new leg. The divots and mud holes cause me to trip. But I manage, using my cane when I have to, and by the end of the day, I'm exhausted.

Back in my room, I take off my prosthesis to care for my leg - I still can't say the S word. I haven't quite accepted the whole truth yet, and looking at it still curdles my stomach. I grab the crutches I keep next to my bed and step into the bathroom to take a shower, where I'll sit on the chair my mother bought me so I don't fall while showering. I undress and wash in the dark, not ready to look at my scar whole. Bits and pieces are hard enough.

When I'm clean and dressed in my flannels, I slide into bed, without dinner, and turn on
Friends
. At least I'll laugh at Chandler and Joey's slapstick.

At about seven, Mom walks in with a piece of pie. "You didn't come down for dinner."

"I know."

"Why?"

"Not hungry."

She sits on the edge of my bed, blocking my view of the television. "I don't want you sitting up here all the time. It's not good for...Stop rolling your eyes at me, Rose. I don't want you alone this much."

"God. I'm not alone a lot. I was outside all day. I'm tired."

"It's not good for...for your...depression." She says depression like it's a bad word.

"I'm. Not. I'm tired."

While she's sitting on my bed, I tilt my head to look around her so I can see the TV.

My mom huffs and gets up, but says nothing as she walks out and slams my door.

Sometime during another
Friends
episode, I get a text from Ben.

BEN: Hey. How's John Boy Walton today?

This makes me laugh.

ME: John Boy? Do I look like a John Boy to you?

BEN: Not. At. All. I just don't know any other Waltons. Should I have said Laura Ingalls?

ME: Better. ;)

BEN: Seriously. How'd your first day back on the farm go?

ME: It went. Tiring.

BEN: I bet. Did you cook any more of your pets?

ME: OMG. You make us sound evil.

BEN: Kidding. But it does freak me out a little.

ME:  LOL. Pansy.

Ben:

ME: Haha. What did you do today?

BEN: Went to the doctor. Check-up.

ME: And?

BEN: Eh. They need to send me for a CAT scan.

ME: Why? :(

Oh my God. I shouldn't have put the sad face. That's implying I like him.

BEN: Don't be sad. It's just routine.

ME: Good. Can you play ball yet?

BEN: No running, but Coach wants me back for practices.

ME:  When?

BEN: Now. I'm thinking of going back this week. Getting bored.

I can't respond right away. I'm thinking of all my earlier reasons for not wanting to get involved. And it's happening sooner than January.

BEN: You still there?

I lay my phone down and pick it up, repeating this several times before I text him back.

ME: Sorry. I'm here. I think that's great you're going back.

BEN: Thanks. It means I'll be closer to you too.

ME: Good.

BEN: We still on for Saturday?

ME: Sure.

BEN: Cool. Do you know what's playing?

ME: The new schedule comes out on Thursday.

My phone rings mid-text and I don't get to send it. It's Ben.

"Hello?"

"I wanted to hear your voice, and my thumbs are getting tired."

"Hey." My cheeks feel hot at the sound of his voice.

"You mind I'm calling?"

"No," I lie. I may want to talk with him, but before I know it, I'll be dating him and worrying who else he's seeing.

"So...what're you doin'?"

"Talking to you."

"Yeah but before I called."

"Texting you," I joke.

"Funny. From
where
were you texting me? Your bedroom?"

"Yes, actually." I laugh.

"You weren't sleeping, were you?"

"No. Just lying in bed watching
Friends
."

"
Friends
. Yeah, I heard it's funny. Like
How I Met Your Mother,
right?"

"Funnier. You have Netflix? 'Cause you should watch it."

"Maybe I will. Maybe I can come over and watch it with you."

"Maybe. You
are
one of those sweet talkers, aren't you?"

"I am so not one of those guys, Rose. I swear. Yes, I'm flirting with you, but only 'cause I really
do
want to come over and be with you...to watch anything. Even
Little House on the Prairie
."

"I don't watch
Little House on the Prairie
."

"Ok.
The Waltons
."

"I don't watch
The Waltons
either." I clutch my stomach to stop the betraying butterflies.

"Rose?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I come over to watch whatever the hell it is you watch?"

My cheeks burn again, causing me to pause in my response.

"Should I take that as a no?"

"No, I don't mean no. Yes...I'd like that." My brain kicks itself for making my mouth say yes.

"Do I have to wait until Saturday? Can I come up sooner?"

"What about your team? Won't you be involved with them?"

"Maybe I'll wait 'til next week."

"You can do that? I thought your coach wanted you back."

"Didn't give him an answer yet. I'll just tell him I have to finish my therapy."

"You'd do that?"

"To be with you I would."

"Ben?"

"Yeah?"

"Why?"

"Why? Because I like being with you. You're...interesting."

"Interesting? I'm boring."

"What? You're not boring. I never met anyone who picked up shit for a living."

"Haha. I pick up
poop
for a college educa...tion..." I digress.

"I never met anyone who made a
sick
ham and cheese sandwich the way you do," he continues when I don't.

"Right." I chuckle, despite the recent revelation that since I'm not going back to college, I do indeed pick up
shit
for a living.

"Do I have to have a reason why, Rose?"

I don't respond.

"I like you. I met you, you intrigued me, and you still do. I want to get to know you. Is that okay?"

I squirm under the covers. "Yes."

"Good."

"But can we wait until Saturday?" I ask. "There's so much to do here...for my dad. And, well, would you mind?"

"No. Saturday's fine." His voice sounds deflated.

"I'm really sorry."

"No, don't be. Saturday's good. I'm looking forward to it."

"Me too."

"Well, listen, I'll let you go. Get some rest."

"Okay. Thanks."

"Bye, Rose."

"Bye, Ben."

Hanging up with him at that point seems wrong, premature, but I shut off
Friends
, turn off the lights, and place my phone on the nightstand, putting the conversation, and my hesitation, out of my mind.

The following morning, I wake at the call of the rooster and take my coffee to go. With my mug in hand, I head out to the barn and drink it with Cloud.

"You wanna ride?" my father asks as he enters the barn.

"What?" I ask, confused. "No. 'Course not," I whisper.

"Cloud misses you."

I look at Cloud, then to my dad. "I'm right here." I run my hand along Cloud's coat to prove my point.

"You know what I mean. It's been ages since you took him out."

"Yeah. Been kinda busy and all."

"You're not now."

Stilling my hand on Cloud, I ignore my father.

"There's no reason you can't ride, Rosebud. It's all in your head. That new leg o’ yours is perfectly fine for riding."

I can feel my father's stare, but I won't turn toward him. I concentrate on breathing in and breathing out, and returning to petting Cloud.

My father pats Cloud's side. "Cloud here'll getcha feelin' like yourself again."

I'd love to feel like myself again.

"Come on. We're takin' him out," my father insists.

"Not today, Daddy. Maybe tomorrow, 'kay?"

"No." He walks away, but I know he's coming back.

My stomach rumbles, knowing he went to get my saddle. When he comes back, I'm standing against the side of the stall, afraid to move. I loved riding Cloud. Before. What if my leg doesn't move the same? What if Cloud misreads my instructions? Will I fall? Will I get hurt even worse? I don't think I could live through another serious injury.

Dad comes back with the saddle and flips it on to Cloud's back. “I know you like riding bareback, but I think we should start again with a saddle. Just for now, bud.”

"Not today. Not today," I repeat and walk out of the barn.

***

In my room, in a box on the floor of my closet, is the leg my parents paid for to get me dancing again. Aside from testing it out in the doctor's office when it first came in, I haven't put it on. The leg sits in the box, a high-tech promise to give me back my dignity.

I don't believe in promises.

Not anymore.

I don't trust them, nor do I make them.

My future on Broadway had been promising. We've seen how that turned out.

I finger the machine-like leg and decide to take it out of the box. Mom's at the grocer, Dad's doing his thing on the farm, Beth's out getting new accounts for Daddy, and Patti's at school. It’d be the perfect time to try it on and maybe dance.

No.

Not yet.

I put it back in the box and tuck it away in the closet.

Then I climb under the covers and take a nap.