Geoducks Are for Lovers (36 page)

“Who said anything about him being good looking?”

“Ouch.”

“Don’t tell him, but he is very good looking in a hot, older guy way. And if he plays his cards right, there could be potential nudity and mooning. Maybe. More likely yes.”

“Maggie, don’t tease.”

“I’m not teasing. I do think you’re hot in an older guy way. Kind of like how Dave Grohl gets better looking with time. In fact, you remind me a lot of him.”

“Maggie.”

Giggling, then sighing dramatically, she admits, “I want to see you. I want to spend time with you. And if things happen and paths are taken, I’m happy with that.” 

Silence. 

“Hello?”

“I’m here. Are you serious? This doesn’t sound like friend territory. This sounds like taking the red pill.” 

“It isn’t friend territory. I realize how bummed I am about missing Olympia this weekend and it really has nothing to do with the reunion, or staying in a house with Ben and Jo and the rest of the gang. It has to do with not seeing you. Columbus Day weekend is so far away. Quinn was talking about pulling strings with the universe and maybe it worked.”

“Does Quinn have those kind of connections? Cause if so, I’d like to put in a few requests.”

“You know what I mean. I’m taking this assignment as a sign we’ve spent enough time on the phone talking. Time to be in the same place. See what comes.” She surprises herself with how confident she feels about this. 

“Wow. This is totally unexpected. So this is a done thing? You’ll definitely be down here. No backing out or cold feet?” Gil smiles, but he can’t quite believe her.

“If I have cold feet, I’ll wear socks. Yeah, this is happening.”

“Does Selah know?”

“No, I called you first. I wanted to find out if I should tell my editor I need a hotel room, or if I have a place to stay.” 

“You are staying with me. End of discussion. Don’t tell Selah until next week. I don’t want her co-opting all your time. Or better yet, don’t mention it until after.”

“I like this take charge Gil,” she says, squirming on the sofa.

“I’ve waited long enough for you to come to your senses, I’m not going to sit back and let you slip away again.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Good.”

The conversation pauses.

“A week from tomorrow, then?” His voice sounds cautiously optimistic.

“Yes.”

“I wish it was sooner.”

“Me too.”

“I can wait a week.”

“Me too.” She nods even though he can’t see her.

“Then I guess I’ll see you soon.”

“You will.”

“I look forward to the mooning.” He teases.

“Glad to hear it.” She laughs.

“I love your laugh.”

Her breath pauses. He loves her, not only her laugh. This is a certainty, an absolute. No maybes. He loves her.

“Did you think I was going to say I love you?” Caution outweighs optimism in his voice now.

“I might have. And you know what?”

“What?”

“I am disappointed you didn’t.”

“Really. Well, then—”

“Wait!” She stops him from saying anything. “Don’t say it now. A week from Friday.” She wants the next time he tells her he loves her to be after she says it to him. He needs to see her face and her honesty. 

“Okay. We’re still playing this by your rules.” 

“Thank you. Listen, I’m going to go and leave this conversation on a good note before you bring up dead puppies.”

“One time, I made everything about death. One time.” He laughs.

“Once was enough.”

“Once with you is never enough.” 

She groans. 

“Too far?” He laughs at himself.

“And on that note, bye Gil.”

“Bye, Maggie. See you next week.”

“Bye,” she whispers after the call disconnects.

Smiling, she bounces around her living room and does a shimmy dance. She’s seeing Gil in a week. A week. What is a week when you’ve waited twenty-two years to say you love someone?

* * *

Despite the gray skies on Friday morning, Maggie grins when she wakes up. A week from yesterday she’ll be catching the ferry to see Gil. Six more sleeps and she’ll tell Gil she loves him too. She bounds out of bed, startling a still-snuggly Biscuit.

“Come on, sleepy head. We have a run to complete, beach to explore, and a bag to pack. You don’t have any bags, but you are staying over at Babe’s house this weekend.” 

At the sound of Babe’s name, Biscuit gets up and stretches before bounding down the hall.

“Someone is excited to see his friend,” she calls after the dog. 

Dressed for her run, she lets Biscuit out, then makes his breakfast. While she waits for him to do his business, she starts a list of things to bring with her for the weekend. At the top of the list are her passport and power cord. She won’t get far without either. The next thing she adds to the list is: find passport. Not quite sure where she put it, she guesses it’s in the mini-safe in her closet. She pins her to-do list to the fridge and notices the ferry schedule is still the summer version.

“Now where did I put the fall schedule?” She taps her chin with the pen in her hand. “Did I get a fall ferry schedule?”

The schedule doesn’t change much from season to season, but she knows a few of the early and late runs will be dropped with the dip in traffic. 

Biscuit scratches at the door to be let inside, distracting her from the location of the new schedule.

“Eat up and let’s go,” she encourages him. She adds a few more things to her list on the fridge while she waits for him to finish eating.

They walk out the front door as John pulls into his driveway. He gives them a sheepish wave that makes her wonder if he is doing the drive of shame. It isn’t too early for him to be running errands, but something in his look causes her think differently.

“Come by in forty-five and I’ll make us some coffee. Looks like you could use it,” she yells at him as she runs backwards up the road. Ear buds in place, she glances down at Biscuit. “Let’s do this thing.”

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, she is showered and making coffee in her kitchen when John knocks on the window.

“Come in, come in.” She fills his cup with coffee and sets it on the counter.

“You’re up and about early. Ready for the trip?”

“I’m getting there. Thanks for watching Biscuit this weekend. I’ll happily return the favor any time you need.”

“Sure.” He drinks his coffee.

Hmm, someone is quiet this morning.

“Out running errands early?” She pries.

“No.”

“Not telling?”

He looks at her and she can see his internal debate. “Getting home, in fact.”

“That sounds much more interesting than errands. Name?”

“Kelly.”

She goes through her mental file of names and faces on the island, and comes up blank. 

“You don’t know her. High school friend from Coupeville,” he answers her unspoken question.

“One of the friends you ran into a few weeks ago?” She remembers him saying something about meeting up with old friends the weekend Gil was here.

“Yeah, that group.”

“Wait!” She puts her coffee cup down with a thud. “Long dark hair, pretty face?”

He looks at her suspiciously. “Yeah, why?”

“She was over on your deck a few weeks ago.”

“Are you spying on me?” 

“No, I was outside doing work and you waved at me, but didn’t come over. Saw the woman on the deck.”

“Yeah, that was her. She’s cool.”

“My oh my, John Day sounds smitten. Old girlfriend?”

“Not at all. She didn’t give me the time of day back in school.”

“Good for you.” She honestly means it.

“We’ll see. I have no expectations.” He shrugs.

“It’s okay to have expectations and want more than flirting and flings, John.”

“Are you giving me love advice?” His face shows he doubts the validity of any love advice she might give him.

“I am. I’ve had a change of heart. Trying to change my spinster ways.”

“The Gil guy?” 

“Yes, Gil. Seeing him next weekend in fact.”

John frowns and nods. “He’s coming back up here?”

“Actually, I have a writing gig in Portland and I’m going down there.”

“Leaving the island and everything? Look at you go.” There is a tinge of sarcasm to his words.

“I’m leaving this weekend. Remember?”

“True, but that’s for work. As is next weekend. Technically.”

“Yes, technically it’s for work, but I’d like to see it as the universe is presenting the opportunity.”

“It’d be different if you were going to Portland just for him. At least it would if it was me.”

Maggie considers his words. The Portland food festival is a good excuse. If things with Gil are weird or awful, she has a safety net for the trip. And her heart.

“I hadn’t considered that.”

“Hey, he’s probably fine with it. He still gets you for the weekend. I know if he was me, I’d wonder why there was a safety net.” He shrugs his shoulders, and finishes the last of his coffee. “What time are you dropping off Biscuit’s stuff? I might go fishing.”

“I was planning to leave around five to head up island. If you aren’t home, I’ll use my key and drop his stuff by the door.”

“Sounds good. Didn’t mean to throw a bucket of water on your trip and Gil reunion. Like I said, he’s probably fine with it. He’s known you for years, so he knows you don’t operate without a net.”

Nodding, she partly agrees with him but isn’t listening. Her thoughts are caught up in figuring out why she is holding on to her safety net when it comes to Gil. Seeing a hand waving in front of her face, she realizes she’s zoned out.

“Hey.” 

“Sorry, was thinking about nets.” She shakes her head to clear her thoughts.

“No problem. I’m going to take off and get some shit done. You’ll be home Sunday afternoon?”

“Yeah, yeah, Sunday afternoon,” she mumbles.

“I’ll let myself out. Stop overthinking. Have fun in Canada. I’ll catch you later.” John dumps his cup in the sink and then lets himself out.

Her excitement for having an excuse to see Gil next weekend fizzles. If Gil were only coming to the island because of a work thing, she’d feel like an afterthought. Gil isn’t an afterthought. Shaking her head, she realizes she doesn’t need a reason to go to Portland other than to see Gil.

With a happy sigh, she turns back to her list on the fridge to start packing for this weekend’s trip.

* * *

She finds her passport in the safe, right where she left it. Clothes packed, charger packed, and her bag set by the door, she has some time to kill. She washes the dishes from breakfast and lunch. Glancing over at the fridge again, she remembers she was going to find the new ferry schedule. 

Checking her purse and the pile of papers on the dining table, she isn’t able to find it. She doesn’t need it to drive to Vancouver, but knows it’s somewhere in the house. She swears she got a new schedule the last time she took the ferry.

Quinn! Bessie! Aha!

After scampering out to the garage, she takes the cover off of Bessie. Finding the schedule in the glove compartment gives her a sense of triumph. She pats Bessie’s dash and spies Gil’s wishing rock. Trying to remember what he said when he found it, she picks up the rock, and strokes the smooth surface with her thumb.

“Hope and faith.”

Taking it as a sign she isn’t a terrible person for having a safety net, she places Gil’s rock back on the dashboard before getting out of the car.

She decides to take Bessie to Portland if the nice weather holds, and calls Steve the mechanic to ensure the car can make the trip. He gives his approval, saying it would be good for the old girl to get off the island and stretch her legs. While talking to him on the phone, Maggie pins the new ferry schedule on the cork-board, and takes down the summer one.

Right after she ends the call, her phone rings again. Thinking Steve is calling her back, she answers without glancing at the screen.

“Maggie?” A female voice greets her.

“Yes, who is this?” 

“It’s Ruth, your editor. Did you not recognize the number?”

“Oh, hi, sorry. I didn’t even look at the screen.”

“You’re not driving are you?” 

“No, not driving.”

“I’m glad I caught you before you’re on the road to Vancouver.”

“Why? What’s going on?” 

Ruth never calls her. Now that she thinks about it, she can’t remember the last time they spoke on the phone. 

“Everyone in Vancouver is sick or has food poisoning or something. The dinner is postponed.”

“Postponed? Everyone is sick? In all of Vancouver?” Her mind tries to wrap itself around Ruth’s words and what this means.

“No, don’t be silly. The chef and her staff apparently had a bad mushroom, or clam, or it’s a stomach bug, or something. I don’t know. I was just told everyone is sick and the dinner is postponed.”

“Until when?”

“I have no idea. I’m relieved I caught you before you were in Canada for no reason.”

“Thanks for calling and letting me know.”

“You’re welcome. Listen, I’ve got other calls to make, and a photographer to reschedule. I’ll email you with the new date. It’ll probably be in a few weeks. Gotta run. Kisses.”

No dinner this weekend. 

Her weekend is free.

The ferry schedule falls to the floor.

Thirty-three