What She Wanted (21 page)

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She circled a finger. “Now, maybe you can dig up a shot or two for my show?”

I fought an obnoxious smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Atta girl. Chase your dreams.”

* * * *

Heidi met me at home for dinner with a giant salad and a watermelon. I threw marinated chicken breasts on the grill and returned to the oblong fruit. Mark sat on the back porch, probably daydreaming about the lawn.

“So,” Heidi began in her juicy gossip voice, “we haven’t talked about the water tower.”

I tipped my head and stretched my eyes toward Mark, seated just beyond the screen door.

She smiled and shimmied her shoulders.

“Stop.” I mouthed the word and waved my big watermelon-chopping knife.

She cocked an eyebrow. “Did you get any good
pictures
up there?”

My face heated to near combustion.

“If you don’t dish, I’ll keep asking.”

“Fine. Yes. I got one perfect
picture
.”

She pounded her fists silently on the counter. Goof.

I finished removing the watermelon rind and filled an old ceramic serving bowl with crisp red pieces.

“What was the perfect picture like? I require details.”

I stuck a serving spoon into the bowl. “It was nice.”

Her eager expression turned droll. “By nice, you obviously mean hot.”

“I mean nice. Sweet,” I countered.

“Ew.” She spun theatrically on her stool and pressed a wrist to her forehead. “I’ll never look at that picture the same way again.”

“Please, don’t.”
He’s mine.
“Where were you anyway? I looked for you.” A little.

She straightened and blushed until her cheeks matched her hair. “I was in the parade.”

“Oh, really?” I leaned across the island and smiled. “Funny you never mentioned that, and I didn’t see you. Were you, perhaps, in costume?”

She dropped her forehead to the countertop. “Let’s keep talking about the picture.”

“Nope.” I danced through the kitchen to my camera bag and returned with my precious.

“Don’t.” She groaned and rolled her head to peek at me with one eye.

I flipped through yesterday’s photos. “Where are you, Heidi Finley?” I whispered to the camera. “Oh! Uh-oh.” I backed up two shots and zoomed closer. “No.” I dragged the word into several syllables.

“Yes.”

Two people in big red wigs, red noses, and candy cane–striped socks toted a sign for Heidi’s mom’s store. “Is that your brother? You were Raggedy Ann and Andy?”

She groaned again. “Mom insisted.”

In the photo, she waved a giant white mitten at the crowd while helping her brother tote a Retro Chic sign with the other. A matching white apron topped her simple blue dress. Her brother’s baggy overalls and T-shirt coordinated perfectly. “Oh my word, you’re adorable.”

She squinted across the island. “Do not print that for the gala. Hey, have you picked anything out yet? Did you ask Sylvia to talk to the New York guy for you?”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

I gathered the place settings and salad.

Heidi hoisted the watermelon bowl. “No, what? Which question are you answering?”

“Both.”

Mark shuffled across the porch to check on the chicken. He lifted the grill’s lid and puffs of zesty heat drifted through the open window and screen door. “Are you two coming out with that melon soon, or are we making chicken jerky?”

“Coming.” I held the door open with my hip as she passed.

My tummy growled in excitement as the scents of summer chicken overtook me. A little Italian dressing marinade made grilled chicken perfect. Simple. Delicious.

“Finally.” Mark helped himself to a breast and two scoops of watermelon. “It’s not a cheeseburger.”

I stowed my usual lecture on red meat, cholesterol, and listen-to-the-doctor.

“We don’t always get what we want,” Heidi said. “Unless we’re all Katy.”

“What’s that mean?” Mark asked.

I choked on a hunk of melon.

Heidi filled him in on the gala, Mrs. B’s increased brochure budget, my progress on the list, and my new boyfriend.

I poured a glass of ice water from the pitcher on the table and sucked down the contents. Dean and I hadn’t labeled what we were doing. “Boyfriend” seemed formal and presumptuous.

I stuck to the original discussion. “I’m not sure I’m doing the gala.” None of my pictures were anywhere near Sylvia-caliber. I’d poured over every shot I’d ever taken in search of one I’d willingly show a NYFA teacher, but I had nothing. Everything I had was shot in rural Ohio. I specialized in glimpses of small town life. The other applicants probably traveled the globe with their families and submitted pictures of the rainforests, Jerusalem, or the pyramids. I’d never even seen the ocean.

Heidi speared a hunk of melon and gave me her business face. “You’re doing the gala.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“You can.”

“Heidi.”

“Katy,” she parroted.

Mark sliced into his chicken. “What about the list? Are you done yet?”

A shrill internal scream nearly burst free. “No. I’m not done yet. We still need to go fishing, and I’m distracted by something else I want to talk to you about.”

He stopped chewing.

“I want to talk to Joshua. I think if I sit and talk with him, I can go on with Mom’s list, but I’m distracted and floundering.” Stressed out and overwhelmed.

He rubbed a napkin over his lips hard enough to bruise them. “I told you that boy’s a coward and you don’t need him.”

“What if he was just being a kid?” Was he a coward, or was Mark a bully? “I can’t imagine what that had to be like for him.”

Mark shoved onto his feet with a murderous glare. His chair hit the wall behind him. “You can’t imagine because you didn’t go through it. I did. Amy did. You didn’t. He didn’t. He doesn’t get to swoop back in here after all the hurt and pain is done and pretend it never happened.” His crackling voice boomed across the quiet lawn.

Heidi imitated a statue.

I stood. If he had another heart attack, it wouldn’t be my fault. It couldn’t. I softened my voice. “Come on. Sit down.”

Emotions flared in his suddenly glossy eyes.

“Please.”

He stared, unmoving. Waiting.

I braced myself for the speech I’d practiced in the shower a thousand times. I pulled in a long breath and channeled Mom’s strength. “I don’t pretend to understand what you’ve been through. I wouldn’t dare. I can’t fathom the kind of loss you’ve experienced, and I’m sorry mine is so abstract, like she was never real, but that’s what I have to live with. I don’t remember her, and it hurts in its own way. Don’t diminish that. I lost something, too.” Breath caught in my throat. I’d never said the words aloud, but they rang true. Real. I’d suffered an incredible loss. My pain was real and didn’t need validation by him.

“I don’t know what Joshua was thinking when he moved away or why he didn’t sign my birth certificate, but that’s life. We can’t know what goes on in other people’s hearts and minds, and we can’t go around presuming that we do. I don’t want to. I don’t care why he left. I don’t care if he doesn’t want me.” Tears sprang onto my cheeks with the force of my lie, and I rubbed them away. “I just want to hear him out. Whatever happens after that is up to him, but at least I’ll have answers to my questions and I can stop wondering.”

I lowered my long shaky frame onto my seat and looked to Heidi.

She nodded for me to finish.

“I’m not doing this for Joshua, and it’s not all about me either. I think Mom would want us to know each other. I want to do this for her.”

Mark’s livid expression fell into something blank and distant. “I’m going to go lie down. You made good chicken.”

The back door smacked shut behind him as he disappeared into the house.

I forked a bite of dinner to my lips, processing the unprecedented compliment and sudden change of attitude. The food turned to sawdust on my tongue.

“That went well.” Heidi gave me an encouraging smile. “At least you two are talking now. Even if you don’t like what the other one is saying, you’re talking.”

“Yeah. It’s great.”

The sky turned a milky blue as we pushed food around our plates and contemplated our next topic. Twilight made a timely appearance, stealing the day’s heat and settling my nerves.

Eventually, Heidi pushed her plate away and crossed her tan legs. “I’ll take you to look for him tomorrow morning. I can come in with you or wait in the car. Totally up to you.”

“Okay.”

“What’s left on your list that we can work on tonight? We can make a plan at least. Unless you want to give me details on sexy water tower kisses from your boy next door?”

“Never.”

My phone vibrated on the table and Dean’s face appeared. I answered it with a cheesy smile, as if he’d somehow heard her. “Hello?”

His voice blared through my speaker. “Hey, gorgeous. What’s on your agenda tonight?”

“I’m having dinner with Heidi right now.”

“Hi!” Heidi called.

“Why? Are you hungry? You can stop by for a bite.”

Heidi fell over in silent laughter.

I kicked her.

“How do you feel about high school football?”

She straightened up and answered for me. “We love high school football.”

I redacted the speaker option and pressed the phone to my ear. “I’ve never been to a game.”

Silence.

“Dean?”

“I’m sorry. I thought you said you’ve never been to a game.”

“I haven’t. I mean, I took pictures at halftime once.”

“You realize that’s basically blasphemy in this town, right?”

“No.”

“There’s a pre-season scrimmage at the stadium in twenty minutes. JV is playing against varsity. I’ll pick you up in ten.”

“’Kay.” I disconnected.

“What’d he say?”

“We’re going to a scrimmage.”

“Yes.” She pumped her fist in the air. “Can I borrow some shorts? I don’t want any pervs under the bleachers looking up my skirt.”

“Jeez. Is that a thing?”

“You’d be appalled.”

We raced to clear dinner and change into matching jean shorts and red Monroe Seminoles T-shirts. I brushed my hair and dotted my lips with shiny gloss.

Five minutes later, I’d updated Mark and had a seat on the front porch. Heidi took her position beside me on the top step as she had since elementary school.

She tightened the laces on her shoes. “I remember love being on your list.”

Headlights rounded the corner of my street and butterflies took flight in my stomach.

“So?”

“So, you’re crazy about Dean. You always have been and now you’re like instant besties who kiss. I think it’s your moral obligation to give love a try.”

His truck slid into the drive ten feet away.

I lowered my voice and brushed dust off my backside. “Yeah, but what’s that even mean? I can’t intentionally fall in love.”

“No, but you can be open to it. I think you should be open to everything. All things are possible, right? Why not love?”

Dean strode toward us on the steps and stopped to wolf whistle. His Seminoles shirt clung to his broad shoulders and nipped the curve of each bicep. The low-slung jeans emphasized his perfect Dorito shape.

He looked us over and rocked back on his heels. “I’m not sure anyone will watch the game if I show up with the two of you looking like that.”

Heidi beamed. “I love you.”

“Back at ya.” He lifted a thumb over his shoulder, in the direction of his truck. “Hop in.”

She bopped away.

His warm hands slid onto the curve of my waist and down to my hips. He stepped into my personal space.

Standing on the step put us at eye level. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

The thing I wouldn’t say aloud was banging erratically in my heart and mind.

Falling for Dean wasn’t a possibility. It was my gut-wrenching reality. The rest was a matter of definition and semantics.

Regardless of what I called it, he’d be gone in a month, and I’d be heartbroken beyond repair.

Dean’s truck rumbled into the newly paved parking lot outside our high school football field. Lavender and gray clouds lazed in the evening sky. Enormous stadium lights illuminated newly purchased turf beyond the bleachers.

I slid off the bench seat and landed on my feet beside Heidi in the lot. “This is a ton of people.”

Dozens of trucks filled the first few rows, tailgates down, music pouring through open windows. Behind them, circles of pop-up chairs framed the occasional grill, and tents covered friends, drinking and roaring with laughter.

“Have they been here all day?”

Heidi waved at a group in matching Monroe shirts. “Some. It’s fun. Everyone just hangs out.”

A wave of kids splashed across the grass near the ticket booth, playing some form of tag or chase.
Lord of the Flies
came to mind.

Dean delivered high-fives and back slaps on his way around the truck to meet us. Clusters of people closed in, following him like the Pied Piper. Apparently, one look at a former Seminoles football star sent nostalgia swirling in their eyes. They called out randomly as we moved, “Remember that game when…” followed by dates and terms I didn’t recognize. Every story ended in cheers.

I remembered Dean more for the time he’d spent studying in our adjoining yards and playing horseshoes with his dad than anything he’d done on the football field. Though, I’d seen him in those little white pants, and they were worth noting.

Dean looped a long arm over my shoulders and tipped his head back. “I’ve missed this.”

I avoided as much eye contact as possible with the masses in our proximity. I could almost hear them wondering what Dean Wells was doing with the weird camera girl. I was wondering why I’d stupidly left my bag at home on Heidi’s suggestion.

He released me at the ticket counter.

I dug into my pocket and sought a ticket price list. “How much is it?” I asked Heidi.

“Three.” Dean exchanged some cash for tickets and passed one to Heidi and one to me. “These scrimmages are for fun. They take donations. The whole thing just gets us pumped for the season. They bring the town together.”