All I Ever Wanted (35 page)

“Um, yes.”

“So you lied about that.”

“
Fibbed
is a better word, I think.” At his dark look, I nodded. “Yes, I lied. As you suspected. I'm sorry.”

Ian looked at the ground. In the distance, the sounds of the regatta drifted toward us in snatches, laughter and music, a baby crying. “So you needed a distraction,” he said slowly. “To get your mind off Mark.” He lifted his eyes to me, and my heart shriveled.

“I wouldn't put it that way, Ian,” I whispered. Tears pricked my eyes, because I knew…I just knew…this conversation was not going to end well.

“I asked you, that first morning after we…I asked you if you were over him.”

“And I am! Ian, I'm not using you to get over Mark.”

“But you are,” he said. “You just admitted that.”

I swallowed. “Well, technically, to be perfectly honest, yes, I guess it started that way. But the turkey, that day…that wasn't… You must know I care about you, Ian! Let's not get caught up in details here.”

“The details happen to be very important to me, Callie,” he barked, causing me to jump. “I've already been with a
woman who had a hidden agenda. I've already been with a woman who wanted to be with someone else.” His voice rose. “I've already been someone's second choice. Every time I turn around, there he is. Jesus, Callie, you were kissing him!”

“Ian, stop!” I blurted. “I don't love him anymore. You're not going to find us in bed together!”

“I didn't expect to find you kissing him, either!” he yelled. “But I just did! And you know what, Callie? Maybe you do still love him. Maybe once the newness of—” he flapped his hands in the space between us “—of
this
wears off, you'll realize that Mark is the love of your life. And you know what? I don't want to hang around to find out I'm the runner-up.”

“Wait,” I said, my voice breaking. “I'm…” My stomach twisted. Oh, shit, this was hard to say, and this was not the time to say it, but I was desperate. “I'm in love with
you,
Ian. Not Mark.”

“You were in love with Mark just a couple months ago.”

“This is different,” I whispered. “I promise.”

He shoved his fists back in his pockets. “How do I know? How do
you
know, for that matter, Callie?”

“I just know.” Oh, Christ, talk about a lame answer! “Ian,” I whispered, “please don't do this.”

But he'd already decided. His face fell back into that distant, reserved expression I'd seen too many times before. “I think it's best if we just end things now,” he said quietly.

“I don't. I think that's a horrible idea,” I squeaked, tears splashing out of my eyes.

“I'm sorry,” he said.

And with that, he turned his back on me and walked away.

L
IFE REALLY SUCKED
.
You know? I had no job, my grandfather was dead, I'd finally fallen into a good love, and he dumped me.

Of course, my first instinct was to feel completely blameless. I had, in point of fact, done nothing wrong. Not one thing. Should I have kneed Mark in the groin? Would
that
have made Ian happy? I wasn't really the groin-injury type, a fact I now deeply regretted. I never
needed
to kick a guy in the nuts, quite honestly. I'd always been able to
(work, play, manipulate)
deal with men before.

And as for the whole idea of scheming and planning and using Ian…I knew I hadn't done that. There was nothing wrong with wanting to move on from a helpless, hopeless love, was there? Was it a sin to want something better?

“Not a sin,” Annie confirmed as we swilled cheap chablis the night after the stupid regatta. “Though this is why all the dating books say to give yourself a year after a breakup.”

“Well, I didn't give it a year,” I said, wiping my eyes and throwing the tissue on the floor, where it joined its half-dozen brothers. “I never got to that chapter. And I think Ian would be honored. You know? Because he's the healthy, stable, good man I chose over Captain Asshole.”

“Honored. You're right.” She nodded wisely. She was
spending the night, and though we had rented several Gerard Butler movies, they all sat untouched. “I guess he just doesn't feel that…chosen. And therein lies the problem.”

“So how do I prove my love and all that crap?” I asked.

“No clue.” At my dark look, she added, “But we'll find something. We will.”

I already missed Ian. How could I get through the day without that smile? He was so easy to tease, and when he smiled, it was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. Stupid, stupid Mark!
He
smiled all the time, like some slavering village idiot. Meaningless, empty, supermodel smiles, not that supermodels ever smiled, but you know what I mean.

“So what about Fleur?” Annie asked.

“I just ordered a voodoo doll on eBay,” I muttered.

“She's always resented you. I can't believe you never saw it.”

“Not helping,” I muttered.

“Well, let's get her back, the jealous hag,” Annie said. “I know people.”

“You're a school librarian,” I pointed out, pouring more wine for both of us. “You don't know people. Not those people.”

“She's a bitch.”

“Yes. She is. And her empty, bitter life will be punishment enough.”

“Not for me,” Annie said. “Let's key her car.”

“The thing is,” I said, wiping my endlessly leaking eyes once more, “I know how Ian is. He's like cement. This is just going to sit there in his heart and harden, and I'll never…” A little sob squeaked out… “I should call him. Don't you think?”

“Shit, no. You're not calling him. Give me your cell phone. Oh. Oh, no.” She closed her eyes. “You called him, didn't you?”

“Um…well, yes. Three times. And I, well, I e-mailed him. Twice. And I drove by his house at ten last night, but it was dark.”

“Wow. Restraining order material,” she murmured. “Did you try the door?” she added. Yet another example of why we were friends.

“I was afraid the dog would out me.”

“Right.” She ate a potato chip, chewing contemplatively. “I guess you have to wait.”

I swallowed. “I just feel that if I could say things the right way, he'd understand. But he won't talk to me.”

“Did you tell him you loved him?” she asked.

My eyes filled again. “Yes. It didn't work.”

Annie sighed. “I don't know, Callie. Seems like you have to…ride it out. I mean, if it's meant to be…” Her voice trailed off. “Right?”

“Right,” I said, blowing my nose. “He's just not the kind of guy who…overlooks things. He saw Mark kissing me. He's not going to forget that.”

“That was a nut-kicker, I'm sure,” she said.

“Thanks.”

“Well, come on. The man walked in on his wife in bed with someone else. Now he sees his new girlfriend kissing her ex-boyfriend.”

“If I wanted this kind of talk, I'd have called Hester, okay? Can't you be more sympathetic?”

“Sure,” Annie said easily. “Maybe it's time for Gerard, don't you think?” I nodded. “Do we want
300
or
P.S. I Love You?
”

“
P.S.
The other one is just homoerotic dreck.”

“It's Dave's favorite movie,” she said. “So you're probably right.”

 

T
HE NEXT FEW DAYS DRAGGED
. Ian didn't call. He did, however, respond to my fourth e-mail—
Callie, I'd appreciate a little space. Ian.
Try as I might, it was hard to put a positive spin on that, though I guessed it was better than
Leave me alone, hag.

What I'd said to Annie had been true. If I could just get Ian to see what I meant…and what I felt. Every time I thought of that stupid line—
I'm in love with you, Ian. Not Mark
—I cringed and reached for more cake batter. Though my statement had been true, it just sounded…shallow.

I hadn't realized how much noise Noah made, the saws and sanders out in the shop, the odd rhythm of his uneven gait, his barked curses and demands for dinner. Though I was glad he'd gone the way he had, I missed the old troll. Bowie did, too, often going into Noah's room, then returning to lie quietly at my feet.

The golden light of October faded into the gray skies and cold rains the Vermont Tourism Board doesn't want you to know about. With the foliage stripped by a wind-storm and the three rivers brown and churning, Georgebury looked bare and weary, hunkering down in resignation for a long, long winter.

Freddie was moving in…it made sense, given that he'd be working here. Somewhat surprisingly, my parents had been thrilled that Fred wanted to take over Noah's Arks, shrugging off the small fortune they'd already spent on his education and sending him for yet another round, this time for a week at the WoodenBoat School in Maine. He'd be back in time for the wedding.

Ah, the wedding. It would be a civil ceremony, followed by dinner, at Elements. My parents were so happy it was surreal…the laughter, the flirting, the affection. Hester still looked at them with a mix of horror and amusement, but then again, that's how we were all looking at her these days.

“Think you and Louis will tie the knot?” I asked her one day as we shopped for the girls' dresses…red for Josephine, cream for Bronte.

“Nah,” Hester answered. “The girls and I do great together. Maybe when Bronte goes off to college, but if it ain't broke, don't fix it, right? And Louis likes having his own place. He has this collection of antique mortuary tools—”

“Okay, we're done. Glad things are working out, Hes.”

“Thanks, Callie,” she said, slugging me affectionately on the shoulder, hard enough that I'd be sore in the morning. “Hey. Sorry you and Owen didn't work out.”

“Ian. Thanks,” I said.

“How's the job hunt going?” she asked, kindly changing the subject.

I sighed. “Not much out there,” I admitted, then glanced at my watch. “Shoot. I have to run, Hester. I'm supposed to clean out my office today, and I wanted to do it at lunch. Avoid a few people.”

“Good luck with that,” she said.

My mood was bittersweet as I walked to Green Mountain. I'd miss Damien's sniping and gossip, miss Karen's growling and Pete and Leila's symbiosis. And I'd miss the work most of all. But I was done. I'd sent Mark an e-mail saying when I'd be in to clean out my office, asked him to have Karen settle my insurance and all that. I didn't mention his idiotic declarations or stupid kiss.

As I struggled through the door with my empty boxes, Damien jumped up to help. “We're interviewing for your position,” he whispered. “But Mark would take you back in a heartbeat. Probably double your salary, too.”

“Gotta pass, buddy,” I said. “But I'll still see you, right?”

“All the time,” he said.

In a way, it was soothing to pack up my office and see the evidence of years of my work. As I looked at the hospital poster, the boy's remarkable eyes, I thought about taking that home. After all, it was one of my best pieces ever. But it was also the poster that had brought me to Santa Fe, and I didn't want to be reminded of Santa Fe anymore.

I packed up my books, my plants, samples of my work over the years. Quite a few clients had e-mailed when they'd heard the news of my departure, and Damien, in a rare fit of thoughtfulness, had printed them all out for me. Several clients had sent gifts, too…a complimentary stay from a B&B in Burlington, a gift certificate for a car detailing from the dealership in Stowe. John Hammill, my maple syrup zealot, had sent a gallon of each of his eight strains of syrup, so I'd be all set in terms of pancakes for some time.

He'd also offered me a job—director of marketing, which he admitted wouldn't be a huge challenge for me. “You'd get as much syrup as you can hold,” he said hopefully, and I laughed and pointed out I had eight gallons to go through as it was.

“Let me know. The job's yours if you want it,” he said, and a lump had risen in my throat. People were awfully nice, but Hammill Farms was a little too far to commute. Then again, a move might not be the worst thing for me.

A soft knock came on the door. I looked up. Mark. “This is a tough day for us,” he said quietly. “Losing you.”

“Thank you,” I said, turning back to my packing.

“Is there any way you'd stay, Callie?” His voice was forlorn.

“No.”

He flopped on the couch where he'd sat so many times these past four years. “I wanted to apologize for the other day, Callie.”

“Go right ahead,” I said frostily, wrapping a picture of Bronte in tissue paper.

“To tell you the truth, I'd have said anything to get you to stay here.” He toyed with his cuff and didn't look at me.

“Yeah. I got that.” I reached for the lumpy mug I'd always used for coffee.

Mark sighed, leaning forward and clasping his hands between his knees. “I'm sorry I didn't fall in love with you, Callie. I wanted to. Back then, I mean.” He looked at me, but I just kept packing. “I wanted to feel the way you did, but I…didn't, so I said it was a timing thing. Figured it would be easier that way.”

“What about Muriel?” I asked. “Did you really love her, or was she just part of the BTR account? Because that would make you a whore, of course.” I felt an unexpected wave of sympathy for the ice princess.

“I…I thought I loved her. She was…” He paused. “Different. Confident. In California, she seemed really…well, smart, and she didn't seem to care about anything except work. Like me. I thought we were kindred spirits. I didn't expect her to be quite so…clueless.” He looked down. “Maybe the only thing I've ever really loved is this company.”

“Don't forget your reflection,” I said.

“Touché,” he muttered. “I deserve that.”

I sat down in my chair and looked at Mark, the first boy who'd ever kissed me. He was so handsome. And shallow. And heartless, not in a ruthless way, but just…lacking heart. At least now he was being honest.

And just like that, I decided to forgive him. Because I'd learned something from Ian. Forgiveness is what really sets a heart free.

“You were a great boss, Mark, and I really loved working here. Thank you for the opportunity.”

He looked up, startled, and after a second, his eyes grew wet. “You're welcome. Good luck with everything, Callie.”

Then he stood up, extended his hand. I shook it, and then there was nothing left to say.

As I was just about ready to go, Fleur returned to her office, smelling like a wet ashtray and clutching a container of yogurt. She pretended not to see me, despite the fact that our work areas were separated by glass. I grabbed the gift I'd brought her and knocked loudly. “Hi,” I said.

“Callie! Right! Someone said you'd be in today. Well. Best wishes and all that.” She smiled, remorseless as a great white. Just following her instincts.

“Listen,” I said. “I know that scene at the regatta was awkward, but…well…” I faked a smile. “I always enjoyed working with you. So here's a little farewell gift. I know living in Britain got you hooked on tea.” I handed over a little basket containing a china cup, a tea ball and a little bag of loose tea, all wrapped in cellophane and tied with yellow and orange ribbons.

“Wow, Callie, thank you!” she said, forgetting to sound British. Her face flushed. “That was really nice of you.”

“You're welcome. Good luck with your career.”

“Same to you,” she replied, untying the ribbon. “I'll have some right now.” She seemed to remember her accent. “Right. Could murder a cuppa.” She sniffed the tea. “Yummy. Herbal, is it?”

“It sure is,” I replied. “One hundred percent, all natural organic.”

Then I hefted my box into my arms and left Green Mountain Media for the last time, somehow forgetting to mention that the tea just happened to be Dr. Duncan's Cleanse 'n Purge Weight Loss Jump-Start. When Fleur discovered an alien in her stomach about twelve hours from now, I hoped she'd think of me.

 

“B
OWIE, DO YOU FEEL OKAY
?” I asked my dog as I got dressed a few days later. “Do you need a checkup? Huh, buddy? Feeling a little off?” Bowie leaped in a circle, howling with joy, then froze, motionless, quivering with attention.
Do I smell bacon? Somewhere, someone is cooking bacon!

Okay, apparently my dog was just fine, so no excuse to see Ian. Drat. Last night, clearly desperate for affection, I'd scanned YouTube for huskies who could say “I love you,” and then tried to teach Bowie to do the same. “Say you love Mommy,” I said now as my dog wagged furiously. “I love you! I love you, Bowie!”