It Happened One Night (17 page)

All of a sudden the melancholy she’d been struggling with all morning turned into a bright and warm tenderness that spread
in her chest like sunshine. Here was Eli,
her
Eli. There was no reason to be afraid that he would try to change things. She trusted him. They were merely having an “off”
moment in their relationship. If she were a different woman, she might have rested her head on his shoulder, just to lean
on him, to feel his beating heart.

She teased him. “You’re all wet.”

He chuckled, a low rumble like thunder.

Carefully, so she didn’t touch his skin, she reached up and slid his glasses from his nose. His eyes were a warm brown. If
he was surprised by the action, he didn’t show it. He simply stood still, watching her, not breaking eye contact. She suddenly
felt sheepish to be holding his glasses. “I’ll dry these for you,” she said.

She turned away from him quickly, glad he couldn’t see her face as she wiped his lenses with a soft tissue. She handed him
back his glasses once they were dry.

“Thanks,” he said. “How you feeling?”

“Not bad. At least, physically.”

“And
other
than physically?”

“I’m okay.”

They walked to the counter. Shaky, Lana went around behind it to sit on a stool, and Eli leaned a hip on the Formica. She
was glad for the solid three feet of countertop between them.

“I have to tell Karin,” Lana admitted.

“Yes. Soon.”

She blushed; it was obvious to both of them that her body was changing. But she was still comparatively small, and unless
a person knew to look for the swelling of her belly, it was not readily apparent under her endless supply of billowy sundresses.
Still, Karin needed to know.

“I… uh… I found Ron,” Eli said.

She swallowed hard. She hadn’t expected this so soon. She thought she’d have more time before she had to face him. “And?”

“I don’t think he’ll be coming to see you. I’m sorry. I tried.”

She looked at him for a long moment, knowing she was missing something but unable to figure out what. “What do you mean, you
tried?”

“I went to see him. To bring him to you.”

“You did what?”

“I’m sorry. It was wrong.”

She shook her head. “That doesn’t seem like you.”

“It’s not.”

“Oh, Eli.” She sighed. Eli’s brow was furrowed in the middle and his gold-brown eyes hid nothing. He was upset. She couldn’t
read him anymore quite like she used to, but she had the feeling that he was working through something big, something that
may or may not have to do with her. She just wanted things to feel normal again, so when he looked into her eyes, she wouldn’t
feel so swallowed up by him. “I know you were just trying to help. Did you tell him about the… you know.” She gestured toward
her belly.

“No. It wasn’t my place.”

“That’s okay. I didn’t think he’d want to talk to me anyway. I’ll go see him myself, one of these days.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Maybe.” She changed the subject. “But in the meantime, how’s Kelly?”

“Don’t know. Haven’t seen her.” An unreadable look passed over his face, and her heartbeat spiked.

“Is… Is everything okay?”

“We broke up. It’s more than okay.”

She blinked, taken aback by his quick confession. Her stomach fluttered with surprise—her mind racing with possible reasons
for their split. She paused when she landed on one she liked. “I can probably guess why.”

“Why?”

“Because of what she did. I mean, when she came here to talk to me about the baby. That really wasn’t very nice.”

“Maybe,” he said.

She cleared her throat. “If it’s not that, then… what is it? It’s not because of me?”

He was quiet.

“Right?” she insisted. “It’s not because I got in your way again? Is it?”

“No,” he said. “It’s not that.”

She clasped her fingers, twisting them hard. She wondered if he knew how difficult this was for her, pretending it didn’t
affect her that he and Kelly had broken up. It shouldn’t matter to her whether or not Eli was single. She hoped that if she
kept telling herself it didn’t matter, it would start to feel true.

“Let’s not talk about this,” he said. “Kelly is old news. Out with the old. What are you doing this weekend?”

She hedged, taken aback by his abruptness yet again. When had talking to Eli become so stilted and strange? “I… I might be
busy.”

“With what?”

She laughed to hide her nervousness. “I have to check my calendar.”

He came around to the same side of the counter that she was on, as if he needed to get closer to get a better view. His nearness
made her oddly uneasy. She edged away.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“The pregnancy,” she said quickly, though at the moment the only thing bothering her was the warmth rising from his skin,
the curve of his bottom lip, and how much she wanted to run her fingers through his rain-damp hair.

“Is that
all
you’re thinking about right now?”

“What else would I be thinking of?”

“You tell me.”

She couldn’t stand it. His gaze was so confident, so
knowing
, she feared he was looking right into her soul—like he could see the way his closeness affected her in the deepest part of
her core. She needed a cold, hard dose of reality to cool her too-warm skin. “I don’t want to be a parent,” she blurted.

“No?”

“Do you think I’m lying?”

His gaze didn’t waver, but it became gentler, inquisitive. “You’ve always said you didn’t want a family. But then when little
kids come into the store you’re the first person to show them the toy section. And I’ve never seen you turn down an offer
to hold a newborn.”

“I like kids,” Lana said. “But that’s different than wanting to be a mom.”

“Are you sure? Is it that you don’t
want
to be a parent? Or you don’t think you’re capable of it?”

“
Don’t think I’m capable
…?” she repeated the words, trying them out. She hadn’t considered the link between wanting a family and believing herself
capable of having one. Eli was suggesting that she’d gone out of her way to eradicate her own desire to have a family. By
clinging to the idea that she wasn’t fit for motherhood, she’d shirked the question of whether she
wanted
to be a mother or not. Maybe she’d pinched off some of her emotions so she could hold fast to others—the part of herself
that wanted to travel the world.

She felt him move closer, and then she saw the tips of his flip-flops were inches from the stool where she sat. He reached
for her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Lana…”

She looked up, her gaze colliding with the fathomless warm brown of his irises. He didn’t say a word, but slowly, deliberately
stepped closer, swallowed what distance was between them. A flame twinkled deep in her body. “What are you…?”

“Shh,” he said. Then he wrapped his arms around her, gathering her to the firm press of his chest. She giggled a little, nervous.
His hands ran slowly up the length of her back. Her breasts were flush against him, the fabric of her shirt drawn tight across
her nipples. She didn’t wear a bra, and she prayed that the cotton of their shirts would be enough to keep him from feeling
her instant reaction.

“Thanks,” she said, and she patted his back a little to imply that the hug was done.

But he only pressed tighter, and she felt the deep inhale of his breath, the brush of cool air being swept across her skin.
His fingers found the strip of naked skin above her collar, his thumb running over the bump where her back met her neck, filling
her with heat and longing. She gripped his belt loop, willing her hands to stay still, to not tug his shirt and seek the smoothness
of his bare back. His whole hand was in her hair, pulling enough to pinch, and it set off a warning inside her, a hot red
flare. She should end this now. This was not an embrace of friendship. The desire she’d seen in Eli’s eyes hadn’t been a fluke
after all. Their whole bodies were lined up, shoulders to shoulders, belly to belly, hips to hips.

She pulled back, but he didn’t let her move away completely. He was staring at her intensely, his two hands firmly on her
waist. His eyes, normally so open and friendly, were guarded and dark. She’d never felt more conscious of her lower lip in
her entire life.

Finally he let her go. His hands fell reluctantly to his sides. She missed him already, her skin crying out for that closeness
again. She couldn’t look at him; she knew her cheeks were flushed.
This
was the reason he’d broken up with Kelly: she
knew
. This was a chemistry that could not be neutralized or undone. But if she gave in to the desires of her body, her heart would
forfeit
its
desire; to keep the best friend she’d ever known.

“I’m going away soon.”

“Yes, I know,” she said, a frisson of worry snaking through her gut. She was used to his coming and going, but each time he
left she felt the same illogical fear that he might not return. In the past, she’d consoled herself by reminding herself of
her own future full of independent travels. But she wasn’t sure that future existed anymore.

“Are you busy on Saturday?”

Lana got the organic citrus cleaner from under the counter and started to wipe down the countertop—not that it needed cleaning.
She just needed something to do with her hands.

“Why do you ask?”

“I thought we might do something before I leave.”

She scrubbed in big circles with false concentration. “I don’t know yet.”

“Why not? Do you have better plans?”

“No,” she said, feeling oddly competitive. “Do
you
?”

“No,” he said.

She waited for him to say more. He didn’t.

She began to work the fingerprints off the edge of the counter. “What’d you have in mind?”

“The planetarium has a new show. It’s a tour of the universe set to the music of David Bowie.”

Lana knew what the planetarium entailed: children kicking the back of her seat, greasy armrests, stomach-flipping graphics
of nebulas, galaxies, and black holes. She loved it. But with her skin still tingling where his fingers had threaded into
her hair, she was afraid to tell him yes. “Can we just play it by ear?”

“I guess so.” He smiled, but she knew him well enough to see there was a tinge of frustration behind it.

She simply couldn’t figure out her best friend these days.

Perhaps she never would.

August 19

Karin pulled into the dusty parking lot of the hot-dog place and wondered if Andy had good news or bad. He’d called her a
few hours ago and asked to meet her here, far from the Wildflower Barn, so far that she’d gotten a leg cramp on the way over.
Now she sat nervously in her parked car, listening to the stock market report on the radio. The sun glared on her windshield,
making her skin feel sticky and flushed.

Fifteen minutes later, she was ready to give up when she saw Andy pull in, get out of his car, and walk toward her. Though
older than her husband, he carried himself as if he was stacked with muscle, his elbows slightly bent beneath the sleeves
of his T-shirt. He went around to the passenger door, and she didn’t want to insult him so she popped the lock.

“Hey.” He climbed into the car, smiling. “Good to see you.”

“Good to see you too.”

He sat and leaned toward her, and for a moment she didn’t understand what he was doing.
Oh, right.
He wanted to kiss her cheek, but he couldn’t quite reach across the seats. She had no choice but to lean in his direction
and accept the greeting. His cologne was strong.

“How’s things?” he asked.

She glanced out the window toward the lip of gravel where the parking lot fed into the oil-stone road. In the twenty-five
minutes that she’d been waiting, not one other car but his had pulled in. The lights in the ancient hot-dog joint shone dimly,
but no one was banging down the door for a table. In fact, the place might have been entirely empty. The hairs at the nape
of her neck stood on end.

Andy was a cop, she reminded herself. He was sworn to protect and serve. She was fine.

She gave him her best smile. “Have you got any news? Did Calvert leave town?”

Andy laughed and shook his head. “You seem a little nervous. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just figured—I thought the reason you called me…”

“I have my guys working on it, don’t worry. We’ve got a car outside the Madison twenty-four seven. It’s just a matter of time.”

Karin nodded.

“But there’s something else I thought you’d want to know.”

“What?”

“That he’s been hanging around your sister’s house. And dropping by the Barn every now and again—though he never makes a move
to go in.”

“Lana told me she saw him.” Karin leaned her head back against the headrest. “Can we do something? File some kind of harassment
charges or get a restraining order?”

“You could. But I don’t think you’ll need to. I don’t get the feeling that he’s out to do anything harmful. It’s more like
he’s just… lonely. Give my guys more time to smoke him out.”

Karin nodded and sighed. Maybe Andy was right. As much as she hated her father, some small part of her was beginning to understand
his misery. If Calvert felt even a modicum of the heartbreak she felt over her children—those she could not have—then maybe
she did feel a little sorry for him.

“Are you okay?” Andy asked.

“Just thinking.”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

She looked at the man sitting next to her, this man who—despite all he’d done for her—was practically a stranger. There was
heartwarming sincerity in his eyes.

She and Gene had stopped talking about anything important these days—no more discussion about the baby, about Calvert, about
their future. She couldn’t talk to Lana either—Lana, who preferred to share with Charlotte and Eli, not her.

But here was Andy. An unbiased listener. A fellow churchgoer. A person who was unentangled in the problems of her life.