6. Micah
6
MICAH
I’m standing in the front yard, surrounded by stacks of magazines, notebooks scrawled with lists and reminders, and boxes filled with other junk I need to sift through. I stiffen when I hear a car pull up the long gravel driveway. I’ve already been visited by Chuck, who noted how well we were coming along. He was only being kind, of course. We’ve barely made a dent.
I recognize John’s car, and in the passenger seat is an attractive guy. My stomach tightens briefly, jealousy rearing its head, though I have no right to him anymore. What the hell is wrong with me? I’ve brought the divorce papers with me, for Christ’s sake.
And then, it dawns on me as they exit the car and walk toward me.
“You must be Aaron Edwards, Jack’s new guy,” I say to the man extending his hand.
He smiles dreamily as if he enjoys hearing the title. “Nice to meet you, Micah. I’m sorry for your loss.”
I glance at John, who offers a sad smile before his gaze travels the length of the yard and toward the side of the house, where the trellis is located. My skin heats at the memory.
“This is something else,” Aaron says, stepping toward the neglected flowerbeds and overgrown bushes. Add them to the list of things needing tending around here. “I never would’ve known this house was tucked back here.”
“Apparently, you have yet to hear the spooky tale of Old Man Malone.”
“Uh-oh, is it another one of those curses?”
I chuckle as I think of Walter’s souvenir stand. “So you already know about the frogs and the whale crud on the beach, and?—”
“Most recently, locusts,” John adds.
My eyes spring to his. “No kidding? I obviously missed that one.”
“I swear it was like the apocalypse.” Aaron shivers as John smirks. “Now, what’s this about your grandfather?”
“Don’t believe everything you hear,” John says. “All small towns have a scary house kids dare each other to drive past.”
“Do they really?” Aaron asks in an amused tone.
“Asks the person raised in a large city.”
The folktale started after I left and my grandfather became a recluse. John always thought that rumor was garbage and hated it being gossiped about in his bar. If I know him like I used to, he sets the townsfolk straight, likely with a smile on his charming face.
“Anyway…” I motion to the brick-and-wood foundation. “The outside of the house is in decent condition.”
“That’s what Uncle Chuck said,” John points out.
“What else did he say?”
Aaron hitches a shoulder. “Outside of what you already know about all the clutter, he mentioned outdated fixtures.”
“I agree. Once the clutter is cleared out, we’ll be able to see what else needs upgrading.” I gesture for them to follow me to the front entrance. “How long have you been restoring houses?”
“Not long, to be honest. I used to flip houses before I started a commercial real estate business with my best friend from college.” He looks off in the distance. “It wasn’t until recently that I’ve gotten back to my roots.”
“Aaron tried to buy the service station from Jack,” John blurts, and Aaron’s cheeks heat as if the mere mention of it is embarrassing. I can only imagine what the story is behind their introduction.
“Hey! In the end, I got my wish—well, Jack’s wish too.”
“Really?” I stop abruptly on the landing. “Jack McCoy is selling the family business?”
That might be more shocking than him having a new boyfriend.
“Yep. To Frank and Aaron’s business partner, Rocco.”
“Rocco, huh?” I say absently, wondering how Jack’s best friend, Frank, got involved in all this. Other than being the mechanic at the service station. “Guess I have missed a lot.”
I feel a small pang because, for all the want of getting out of this small town that was suffocating me, I still miss certain aspects, not to mention the man patiently waiting on the bottom step for me to lead them inside.
I twist the door handle. “So what’s Jack going to do once the sale goes through?”
“Photography,” Aaron responds with such surety that it jogs my memory—that’s right, Jack participates in the annual art fairs.
“Now I remember. That man has talent.”
“He certainly does, and don’t let him tell you otherwise.” He and John share a smirk, and I feel that same longing again about not being in on the private jokes anymore, at least where John is concerned.
I hold the door open for them as they explain that Jack bought the space in town where the butcher shop used to be. I listen absently, feeling a bout of nerves about the state of this house. “Please, ignore the clutter.”
Aaron’s eyes light up as he scans the elaborate crown molding in the foyer. “No worries.”
Aaron’s obvious love for architecture is infectious, and I try to see Grandpa’s house through his eyes. His career sounds interesting too, and I’m still shocked he got Jack to sell. I’m sure his attractiveness and pleasing personality had nothing to do with it.
The stale scent of mildew and old newspapers assaults my nose upon entry into the great room. “My grandfather was a bit of a pack rat, and this is after already discarding a bunch of stuff.”
“I…wow.” Aaron seems speechless as he looks around wide-eyed. But if he truly has a knack for this, he’ll no doubt see beyond the boxes and stacks.
John is silent, and I wonder what he’s thinking. Of course, he’s been to this house dozens of times over the years and knows my grandfather wasn’t one for tidiness.
He stares at the shelf of overcrowded knickknacks that, from a distance, seem like worthless junk. “He’s gotten worse, I see.”
“Apparently so. Rosie tried to throw stuff out when he wasn’t looking, but somehow, he would always know.” I laugh humorlessly. Grandpa did always seem attuned to the goings-on in his house. Especially after I started bringing John around. He only had one talk with me about it.
“He’s more than a friend, isn’t he?”
I fidget nervously. “Maybe. But if you’re gonna ? —”
“I don’t give two shits who you’re attracted to, but don’t bring any more trouble to my doorstep. And I’m not talking about you liking boys.”
He never mentioned my relationship with John again. That was when I began straightening up. Grandpa was right. He didn’t deserve the trouble, not after taking me in.
Aaron breaks me out of my thoughts. He’s wandered past the shabby dining table toward the kitchen. “Outside of the clutter, I can see the charm, but also where it needs work.” He slips beyond the narrow opening of the galley-style kitchen. “Maybe even knocking down this wall to open up the space.”
“I’m not sure all that is necessary. Plus, the cost?—”
“Oh, I’m more than willing to invest my own money if it pays off in the sale. It’s what we do—Rocco and I—and more times than not, it’s worth it.”
“See? I told you he’d be interested,” John remarks.
Aaron smirks. “I haven’t made a final decision yet. It’s a lot of work.”
My face falls just as Aaron’s lips split into a grin. “Kidding! No way I’d pass up the opportunity to work on a house that still bears some of its Renaissance markings.” He trails his fingers across one of the casement windows, which has multiple diamond-shaped panes and was Grandpa’s favorite. “And help you sell it, of course.”
I breathe out in relief. “When can you get started?”
“Once everything is cleared out, I can restore the hardwood floors and repaint the molding and window sashes.”
“Good plan. I have Rosie helping, so between the two of us?—”
“I can help too,” Aaron says, then turns to John. “As a matter of fact, I’m gonna stay and have Jack pick me up.”
“You sure?” John asks, blinking as if coming out of a spell.
Aaron nods. “It’ll give me more time to look around and get together a plan.”
“Okay, cool. Well, I’ve got a bar to open, so I’ll…catch you later.” John waves and I watch him walk out the door.
“Is it true you’ve been in movies?” Aaron asks as he picks up a stack of celebrity magazines.
“Nothing to write home about.”
“But it’s still your dream?”
“Well, I don’t know about—” I realize that despite how innocent these questions seem, it might be a fishing expedition on Aaron’s part, so I head in a different direction. “Yeah, sure. I just don’t know if I’m convinced it’ll happen anymore.”
“I get that.” He looks off in the distance. “I suppose it depends on what your definition of success is.”
“What do you mean?”
He angles his head in thought. “So, to me, you’ve already achieved a lot because you’ve acted in small parts. And some might think I was accomplished in San Jose with my real estate business. But maybe those things don’t exactly match our own definitions of success, so we have to rework them.”
“Like how you moved to Aqua Vista and started restoring houses again?”
“Exactly. It’s a success by my standards, not by society’s. Because it makes me happy. And not all accomplished people are.”
I feel a lump in my throat as I consider his definition, but it’s too much to unpack right now. Wanting to change the subject, I head toward the steps. “Let me show you upstairs. There’s a mountain view.”
Aaron is in awe as soon as I lead him up the burnished-wood staircase to the main bedroom, where there’s a wall of casement windows. “Such a great view. And you used to live here with him?”
Somehow I find it easier to talk to a stranger about that period of my life than relive the memories with John. “Yeah, I moved here my freshman year of high school.”
“And that’s when you and John started hanging out?”
“Yep. He was my best friend. And then became more, of course.” Even though my childhood was tumultuous, somehow thinking back to the simplicity of those times calms me.
“Jack says you two married young?”
“I suppose you could say that. We were only twenty-one. But I still knew I would love John forever.” I inhale a sharp breath, wondering what Aaron could be thinking about my departure. “And for the record, I didn’t know I’d take off a couple of years into our marriage. I tried to make it work in this town.”
“I think I understand.”
I twist toward him. “Do you?”
“Well…mostly. I know what it’s like to be unfulfilled and feel like something’s missing.”
“I wasn’t unfulfilled in my marriage. I?—”
He shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I knew John wouldn’t move away from this place—couldn’t. He was just getting his bar up and running, and Aqua Vista is woven into the fabric of him, of his family. Besides, my dreams weren’t his.”
He’s closely scrutinizing me, and I wonder if I’ve professed too much. But I can only imagine what Jack has told him about me. No love lost there, even if we were close as kids.
“If you don’t think I’m overstepping… I can still see the love between you.”
My eyes sting, and I blink away the tears of frustration. I think that’s why there’s no bitterness between us—we eventually came to accept this. John always knew I would want different things but married me anyway. Said he wanted to be with me as long as he could.
I turn away before I start blubbering. John is still the most giving man I’ve ever known, and if he knew the scumbags I’d been around in Hollywood, he’d lose his shit.
“There’s definitely plenty of love.” That’s never been our hardship.