Chapter 31
Harrison is nervous, and it’s adorable. His presence takes some edge off the night.
Sure, I may be caught in a time loop with everyone I’m mad at in the world, including the dead body of my mother, who, by the way, might have had the power to bend the universe.
I may still be wildly attracted to the only guy I know for a fact would break my heart given any chance.
I may have lost my ability to cook, which is usually the one thing I can do.
But look at Harrison! He’s in a little shirt, fiddling his fingers, gazing at my indifferent sister.
His anxiety somehow calms my own. Like how the world can be on fire, politicians can be destroying everything, illness and injustice coursing through the air, and still, you manage to laugh and coo as a puppy discovers and chases its own tail.
“Wine, Harrison?” I ask.
“Oh, sure, love some,” he says.
“Or beer,” offers Austin.
“Ah, uh, either—or—Didion said wine first, so let’s go with that.”
Austin and I catch each other’s eyes, and I have to look away.
I’m about to offer Harrison red or white when I realize he’ll probably go yet another shade paler if I do, so I just bring him a glass of sauvignon blanc.
I pour myself one too. If it’s just going to be another today tomorrow, then really, who cares?
I take a big chug of it before immediately topping it off, then put the bottle back in the fridge.
“Oh,” I say out loud as I get to the porch, as if the wine has already gone to my head. “I should have made a compound butter. It’s so good on burger buns.”
“Didion,” whispers Matt. “Do less.”
I puff out some air and plop down in a chair next to him.
“So, Harrison, you took over the old store, huh?” asks Austin.
“Yep, yep. And don’t think I’m letting you get away without the friends and family discount Dad always gives you.”
“Half the time I go buy materials, someone from Ennis shows up here after work to help me out with whatever the project is.”
“We pride ourselves on great service.” Harrison laughs.
Here. He said here.
I’m struck suddenly with an image of him here, in the years I wasn’t. A drill slung through a tool belt, lifting heavy things, sweating in the sun. Maybe sanding something.
Okay, that’s about one nailing reference away from turning into a sex fantasy. I cease it in its tracks and have another sip of wine before standing up and going to the kitchen to check on the shrimp cocktail chilling in the fridge.
It was the only thing anyone would let me do after Mr. Kelly came again. The cocktail sauce I made doesn’t hold up to the one we had earlier, but it’ll do.
The shrimp are cool enough, so I bring them out and put them on the table. And, as Matt blithely noted, the color of the sauce would conceal any more blood I manage to spill.
I try one and then groan to Matt, the only one tuned in to me. “Overcooked.”
“You’re so hard on yourself.”
He takes one, then tries to hide it, but I know he agrees. “I think that’s great.”
“—in place that my Dad never did. He wasn’t racist or anything, I’m not saying that—”
“What did I miss?” I whisper.
“Harrison is just talking about DEI for his store. It’s not nearly as bad as he’s making it sound.”
“—just want to make sure everyone is comfortable and that we’re doing the right thing,” says Harrison. “But enough about work.”
“Agreed,” I mutter.
Matt hides his smile and we both take a sip of wine.
“Sammie, what are you doing these days?” he asks. “I haven’t seen you around here in a bit. I’m worried now we’ll never get to see you around.”
“Oh, I’m actually … not sure what I’m doing next,” she says.
“What were you doing last?” I ask, ignoring Harrison’s questioning look. I’m sure he assumes that people sharing so much DNA would know exactly what was going on in each other’s lives.
Her icy gaze comes my way. “I was a nanny in Napa.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“How very Parent Trap. What happened? Why did you leave?”
She gnaws on her bottom lip. “The mother didn’t want me around anymore.”
“Oh my god. You weren’t sleeping with the father.”
“Didion!” She shoots daggers in my direction. “No! Wow, you really think the worst of me, don’t you?”
I had meant to be light. Kind of a joke, a little gossip. But that’s not how she took it. She took it as judgment, as she often does when it comes to us, and I never mean it that way.
“No! Sam, that’s not what I meant.”
“The little girl was always asking for me, if you must know. She started acting out when I wasn’t around.”
My cheeks go hot. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh. She loved me.”
“I’m sorry. I—”
There’s an awkward beat.
“I’d have a hard time not having a crush on you if you—” says Harrison, then looks like he’d sooner die than finish the sentence. He does anyway. “If you were … if you were my nanny. Or I was the dad. Or, my nanny. I mean, my kid’s nanny.”
This magnificent gaffe restores some ease, puncturing a hole in Sammie’s tension.
“Oh, Harrison,” sighs Matt, patting his shoulder and standing. “I’m going to go check on Nora.”
“So, what will become of Birdsong?” Harrison asks.
He’s trying to get the conversation back on track, but of course this is a point of strain too.
“We think we’re going to sell it,” I say.
“Well, we don’t know for sure,” argues Sammie.
“Didn’t we kinda decide?”
Sammie looks sheepish. “I don’t know, the last few days here have made me wonder. How could we ever do without it?”
“I thought you all just got in yesterday,” says Harrison.
Austin, who is balancing on the back two legs of his chair, takes a sip of his beer and raises his eyebrows at Sammie, like uh-oh, what now?
She glances at him and then says, “Right, that’s what I meant. Only feels like a lot longer.”
Harrison nods. “I know what you mean.”
He’s such a nice guy. He’s so uncomfortable, but my god, is he trying.
Sammie goes on. “I used to picture us all here. With our kids.” She gestures in toward where she knows Nora to be.
I had too. Back before I decided I could never have kids without deeply screwing them up. When I was still fantasizing about doing it all with Austin.
“Anyway.” Sammie leans forward. “Harrison, how do you like being an uncle? Taylor Rae’s daughter is so, so cute.”
Austin gets up. “Gonna check on the burgers.”
Sammie shoots me a side-eye as Harrison answers her. It’s a look that says, I am certain, do not leave me alone with him.
“I love it. She’s such a great kid,” he wraps up.
“Cute,” I say. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
Harrison, good sport that he is, could not look more uncomfortable. “No, I don’t. I’d like one, though. I mean—not just any girlfriend. It’s not like I’ve decided I need a wife, so I’m on the hunt.” He does a manly-man gesture with a bent arm and clenched fist, and I watch him regret it.
Matt comes back outside. “What are we talking about?”
“Harrison really wants a girlfriend,” I quip.
“Didion!” hisses Sammie, eyes alight with surprised amusement.
Harrison smiles and says, “Oh, that wasn’t it exactly. One day, you know, I’d like to get married. You’re married, aren’t you?” Harrison is clearly desperate to get the spotlight off himself. “Do you recommend it?”
Matt shakes his head and grimaces. “I don’t know if it’s the best time to ask me that.”
“What? You and Beau are like the picture-perfect relationship,” Sammie says. “You’re being modest.”
She gives him a questioning look, but there’s no time for an answer when Austin rushes up onto the porch, white shirt damp from the rain. Abs and perfect shoulders embossed in cotton. He sees me looking and winks.
I roll my eyes.
“All right, burgers are ready,” he says. “Sammie, here’s yours.”
He puts it on her plate. It was separate from all the rest and looks different.
“Why does she get a special one?” I ask.
“It’s vegetarian. Here’s yours, princess.” He plops one down on my plate. “Harrison, and Matt. I have Nora’s here too.”
“Vegetarian?” I ask.
Sammie sighs. “Yeah, I’ve been vegetarian since I was about eighteen?”
I gape at her for a long moment. “Oh my god.” I slap my hand over my mouth. “I completely forgot that. Shit, Sammie, I’m sorry, I’ve been trying to serve you fish for the last three days.”
I feel awful. Dietary restrictions are not only something I care deeply about, but something I tend to thrive under.
“It’s okay. It was all complicated enough. And I eat fish on occasion anyway, so it was fine. Though seeing those lobsters in there kind of made me want to cry.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say again.
“It’s really fine. You don’t need to be weird about it. I didn’t remind you.”
I should have known. Of course I knew. I used to know everything about her.
About all of them. Now Matt’s not only married with a kid, but maybe things aren’t as good as they seem?
I don’t know how Sammie’s spent the last years of her twenties?
And Austin, I’m so hung up on lingering touches, heart-melting nicknames, and tangled memories that I can’t even actually remember to be mad at him.
How is this where we all ended up?
“I’m going to grab some relish.” My voice comes out a little weak.
I hear the sliding door open behind me a moment later, as I’m chopping up some Wickles Pickles I found in the fridge. I assume it’s going to be Matt, maybe Sammie, possibly (hopefully?) (hopefully not?) Austin.
But it’s Harrison.
“Harrison, hi.” I lick my finger and put down my knife. “Bathroom is just around that corner there.”
“Oh, yes, I remember. Even if I didn’t, I could just follow the smell.”
I furrow my brow at him. “Um. Smell? Of…”
“The—oh, no, the smell, the candle. There’s a really great candle in there. Sorry.”
I laugh. “You scared me.”
He shakes his head. “Sorry. I just wanted to talk to you for a second.”
“Privately?”
He nods.
I wave for him to follow me into the living room, and once we’re there, I say, “You can hear everything on the porch from in there.”
“Gotcha. Thank you.”
“So … what’s up?”
He lets out a big breath, and then says, “I really like Sammie.”
I look down at the ground and then back at him, saying, “Yeah, I think we can all tell that.”
“Believe it or not, I’m usually pretty good at this. Girls like me. I can be really smooth.”
“Smooth, huh?”
“Yeah, I can. I know how shocking that must be given … everything I am tonight.”
Even talking to me, I can see what he means. He’s way more confident. More relaxed. He’s a really good-looking guy. Not my type—though, in the last several years of rare dates whenever I had time, I’ve wondered what exactly my type was. No one seems to hit the mark.
“So what’s the problem? You need someone to slap you out of it or something?”
“Basically,” he says. “What do I do? She’s always made me this way.”
“Always—Harrison, how long have you had a crush on my sister?”
“Kind of … forever?”
“Really?” My heart swells and I smile.
He nods. “And I’ve never been more of an idiot around anyone. She’s so pretty and cool, and she knows what she wants—”
I make a doubtful sound and then cover it with a cough. “Sorry, go on.”
“I become this sniveling jackass whenever I’m around her.”
“Why do you think that is?”
I have learned, after years of managing other people, and acting as live-in babysitter to Sammie, that usually people know the solution to their problem, and respond much better to it when they are the ones to suggest it.
“Because … I don’t know, I know the kind of guys she likes. Johnny Hart, namely.”
I remember just then, that if things are really the same tonight, he’s set to arrive any minute.
“Shit,” I say out loud.
“Yeah, I know. I hate that guy.”
“Well—yes, me too.”
“I mean he almost killed her, for god’s sake.”
My blood runs cold. The memory is there, sharp as glass, even if I’ve spent years dulling it.
“Yeah. I remember.”
“Sorry. That guy just really gets me going. I shouldn’t have brought that up.”
“No, it’s fine. Really.”
He looks like he wants to apologize again, but takes the hint from my tone and moves on. “Anyway. She likes assholes like that. Or at least that asshole. I don’t even know, are they still together?”
“I don’t think so. And it doesn’t matter. Because you should go for it.”
“Sammie, you mean?”
An idea is starting to form in my head.
“You have to loosen up, that’s all. Show her this side of you. This … normal side.”
He nods tightly, getting a little amped. “You’re right. I know. It’s easier said than done is all.”
“Listen, go back in there, and act like none of this matters. Act like you get a new chance tomorrow to get it right.” It’s not true of course.
If anything, Sammie and the rest of us will remember.
He is the one who gets too clean a blank slate.
“Just try to be yourself, and don’t worry so much about what she thinks. ”
“Yeah. You’re right. I don’t know what my problem is.”
“I do.” I smile. “You really like her.”
“I really do. And with your mom passing, which again, I’m so sorry about—”
“It’s okay.” Why do we always say that?
“I’m afraid I’ll never get another chance. I barely saw her as it is over the years, but now … what if I never see her again?”
I glance out at the porch and see Austin. He’s laughing at something Matt is saying. Harrison’s right. What force of universe would it take to get me back around Austin? If time standing still won’t give us a chance, then what ever could?
“Didion?”
“Sorry,” I say, coming back into the room. “You just got me thinking. You’re right. I don’t know what’s going to happen after this weekend. You have to shoot your shot.”
He smiles. “Is it okay if I hug you?”
“Yeah,” I say, and then step toward him.
His embrace is comforting and warm, and it makes me ask the most pathetic question I’ve ever asked myself.
When was the last time I let someone hug me?