Love Is for the Birds

10. Teddy

TEDDY TOSSED AND TURNED ALL NIGHT, REPLAYING HER conversation with Daniel. Around four, she concluded that Daniel deserved someone to love him. He wasn’t a bad guy. Then, at six, when a hint of gray appeared on the horizon, the sage-yet-cliché advice of self-love books and television talk shows came to mind: you can’t love anyone until you love yourself.

She landed on the trite phrase thinking that, for the first time, the words made sense. She listed the many ways she did not love herself, most of them having to do with how she’d treated her mother. Teddy had been a smart-alecky brat right down to that last hissy fit when she insisted her mother travel to Houston to meet Daniel.

Pickles whimpered, and she pulled her close. Eyes blurred with tears, Teddy watched a bloom of fiery orange rise out of the Gulf. The globe rose and the color faded first to tangerine, then to apricot and butterscotch, before finally settling on pineapple. The shelves of Sweet Somethings appeared in her mind.

Her mother had happily stuffed the glass jars with candies, while Teddy stood beside her. “You’re sweet as a pickle,” her mother said. Teddy shook her head.

“No,” her mother said, “Then are you sweet as a pepper?”

Teddy protested, “Peppers aren’t sweet.”

Finally, her mother relented, “Then you must be sweet as a chocolate kiss.”

Teddy said, “Yes, I am sweet as a chocolate kiss.” She gave her mother a big squeeze and said, “You are the best mommy in the whole wide world.”

The memory settled with a sense of relief. Maybe Teddy could learn to love herself, just like she learned to make candy. No telling how long she needed to sort things out between her and Daniel. Maybe Daniel wouldn’t wait. Why should he?

Thank goodness she’d pulled Pete Stephens’s name off the community board last night. A trip with Walt to see Pete would be the perfect way to get her mind off her troubles.

She stopped by Walt’s around noon. He held two Daily Brew cups, handed her one, and climbed into the Jeep.

“The Daily Brew opened?” She missed her morning café au laits.

“No, not yet. But I have connections.” Walt grinned.

“So, you’re back with Christina.” She gave him a thumbs-up.

“We’re talking.”

“Sounds like more than that.” She lurched into gear.

Coffee sloshed onto Walt’s board shorts. “Hold on, I’ve got a beverage here.”

“Sorry about that, du-u-ude.” She expanded the word into three syllables.

“The Dude Abides, alright, alright, alright?”

“Now you’re mixing slacker movies. That’s like mixing metaphors.”

“Speaking of mixing, what happened with you and Bachelor Number One?”

“Would you please stop calling him that?”

“What should I call him?”

“How about using his name?”

“Okay, word is that your bro, Daniel . . .” he emphasized the name, “wiped out. He went over to Dot’s all rag-dolled and long-faced. I kind of felt sorry for the dude.”

Daniel went to Dot’s? She guessed that made sense. Where else could he go? Oh, great. Now the whole town knew about them.

“ Sooo ,” Walt said. “Don’t give me the silent treatment.”

“It’s complicated.”

“I know. That’s what I keep telling you. That’s why you don’t see me making any promises. Keep them at arm’s length, except when, well, you know.” He winked at her.

“You are disgusting.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. At least I don’t go breaking hearts all over town.”

A stab of remorse hit her right in the gut. She stopped the Jeep and turned to Walt. “I’m not breaking any hearts.”

Walt placed his cup on the dashboard and put his hands on her shoulders. “Daniel seemed pretty torn up. He’s all right, if you like players. But I always wondered what was going on with the two of you.”

“You’re telling me this now, a year later?”

He shrugged. “Not my business. You asked. I’m telling you the truth.”

“Get your coffee, I’m about to do another lurch.”

Walt grabbed his cup, and she accelerated as they moved onto the highway toward the mainland.

“I hear Bachelor Number Two is going to the bird refuge with Barb tomorrow.”

“You mean, Jack?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“Not what you said.”

“Whatever.” He held up three fingers, then turned them sideways to gesture whatever. “Are you going? Because I totally think you should. Now that you and Daniel are on the outs.”

“I give up.” She shook her head. “We’re just taking a break, if you really want to know.”

“Whatever you say.”

“I Gotta Feeling” by The Black-Eyed Peas played on the radio. Walt cranked up the volume, and the song carried them all the way to Pete’s house.

They pulled up to a double-wide with wooden steps and a ramp. Next to the stairs, a roadrunner whirligig spun in the wind. The place had survived the storm, even the roadrunner.

“Pete.” She yelled through the door. “It’s Walt and Teddy.”

Pete responded with a faint “C’mon in.”

Inside, Pete lay still as a corpse, a pale green oxygen tube clung to his nostrils. Teddy straightened the tubing. Last she’d seen him, maybe fifteen years ago, he’d been laughing with the boys at the bar. Now, he looked eighty instead of sixty.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He patted her hand and gave Walt a puny fist bump. “How’s the shop?”

“I got off better than Tedster here,” Walt said.

“I’m just,” Pete sucked in a breath, “getting over a bout of pneumonia.” Phlegm rattled in his chest.

“We’ve come to exchange the oxygen tanks,” Teddy said.

“Bless you.” Pete pulled the covers up around his neck. “I just can’t seem to get warm.”

She checked the thermostat. “No wonder, the AC is on sixty-five. You want me to fix it?”

He nodded. “They say Dot’s opened up.”

“That and the Taco Hut,” Walt said.

“I sure do miss her,” Pete said, closing, then opening his hazel eyes. “We used to be an item, you know?”

She exchanged glances with Walt.

“She never told anyone. We were married. Briefly.” Pete let out a heavy sigh. “I got a hankering to roam, as men tend to do. When I came back fifteen years later, she said she’d divorced me. Can you believe it?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “You were gone a long time.”

“I know,” he said, his voice scrawny. “She came by to see me yesterday. Surprised the pee out of me.” Pete smiled. His eyes lit up. “Sure was good to see her.”

“You still love her?” she asked.

“I never stopped.” He held his ribs and coughed. “It only hurts when I cough.”

She cringed and raised his bed. Dot had never mentioned a thing about Pete. When she was a teen, Teddy always thought of Pete as the lonely old fisherman.

“I thought I could win her back. But she’s so busy with the restaurant, she doesn’t have time for a no-good fella like me. I shouldn’t have left her in the first place. After that, a woman won’t trust you.” He reached for a cup of water at the bedside table. “What about you, Teddy? I hear there’s some new guy in town.”

“She’s trying to juggle two fish—a bluefin tuna and a hammer-head,” Walt said.

“You’re full of it.” She glared at Walt.

“Which one do you like better?” Pete asked.

“You both are ridiculous.”

“Walt, what would you say?”

“Definitely the bluefin,” Walt said.

“True,” Pete nodded. “And shark have high levels of mercury. Lot more trouble to deal with.”

“Okay, I give up. Who’s the bluefin?” She asked.

“Jack, of course.”

“That’s what I heard,” Pete said.

“From whom?” She crossed her arms across her chest.

“Dot.”

“She told you about Jack? Is nothing private in this town?”

“You ought to know that by now. You remind me of Dot. Beautiful, strong, determined. That’s what I like in a woman,” Pete said. “How about you, Walt?”

“I’m on the lookout for a yellowfin,” Walt said. “Strong, fast, and beautiful.”

“Good choice for you.” Pete laughed and started in a coughing fit. When he finally recovered, he said, “Keep me posted, you two.”

“I guess we better get these oxygen tanks over to the pass before time gets away from us.” Teddy gathered the tanks and ushered Walt out of the house.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow at the refuge, then,” Walt said as he stowed the tanks.

“I don’t know. I’ve got a lot to do. And, I don’t want to encourage more rumors.”

“Sometimes you need to jiggle the bait, you know.”

She screwed up her face. “ Ewww. I never knew you were such a fisherman.”

“Heck, yeah. I’ve caught a few fish in my day. I prefer surfing, though. Not so stinky.”

“Then stop with the fisherman analogies, will ya?” She pulled up to Walt’s shop. “Go ride a wave or something.”

He flashed a shaka sign. “See you tomorrow.”