Chapter 25 Lily
Lily
Itoss another shirt into the pile, smoothing the fabric with a half-hearted swipe of my hand. The fresh scent of detergent clings to the air, but all I can think about is the sun-warmed breeze slipping through the open sliding glass door in the living room.
Outside, the sky is perfect, an endless blue rolling through the pasture hills, and I swear I can hear the trees whispering my name, begging me to come write in the open air.
I fold a towel, badly, and my fingers move on autopilot as I finish up the rest of the laundry so I can join Ms. Sullivan out on the back porch.
She’s been out there every day for weeks. Even Christmas day, after we had a cinnamon roll breakfast and exchanged a few gifts, she ended up on the porch for most of the day. It helps the weather has been beautiful.
Time has moved unbearably fast since Noah took me to the unmarked path and things between us moved forward.
We’ve spent as much time with each other as possible, mostly hiking and having family game nights with his mom.
I spent my first Christmas with people in over six years, and it was like a cleansing hug in my heart. I finally don’t feel so alone.
For Christmas I gave Noah a handwritten hiking date voucher book, redeemable for scenic sunrise hikes, picnic hikes, or hikes that end with us both naked and in bed together.
Those are my favorite. He’s been redeeming them as much as possible over the past couple days, so much so, that I told him I had to catch up on laundry today, especially before the new year.
New Year’s Eve is tomorrow, and like most holidays we’ve spent together, we plan on having a movie night and watching the ball drop with his mom. I’m excited to celebrate another year, and that’s a rarity for me. Ms. Sullivan gets to celebrate another, too.
With a sigh, I reach for another shirt and out tumble the socks Noah got me for Christmas.
Probably my favorite gift ever, if I’m being honest. They are hiking socks with a handstitched scenic background of mountains, but in the forefront is a middle finger flicking off the mountains and there couldn’t be anything more me.
Smiling, I tilt my face back, replaying the nights we’ve spent together, each touch and caress. The man has ruined my plans of leaving that’s for sure.
I hurry through the rest of the folding, then swap the washer load into the dryer intent on spending the rest of the afternoon with Ms. Sullivan and my journal.
The words pouring from my heart have been different in the past few weeks. They flow easier and are more spirit lifting. I want to write, not because I need an outlet, but because I have these new feelings bubbling up inside of me and they want to burst out.
I never told Noah about the vandalized poem.
Pretty sure I lost it when I fell into the water.
After we were together, I checked my pants, and it was gone.
It was probably for the best. We’d just shared a breakthrough moment and the last thing I wanted to do was bring it crashing down with my worry over those two extra words.
Nothing has happened like that again since then, and at this point, I think it’s safe. I let it go.
I fiddle with the chain around my neck. Wearing this is empowering—something I took from him that night, but I’m not sure I need its power anymore. It’s coming from a well deep within me and I’m taking my life back.
Tucking the necklace behind the front collar of my sweatshirt, I close the dryer and take off down the hallway, depositing folded laundry in their designated rooms. Finished, I turn toward the sliding glass doors, stopping short of the threshold to study Ms. Sullivan.
She sits in the new wooden chair with a blanket draped over her thin shoulders despite the sun today.
The streams of light catch the fine silver strands mixed in with her tawny hair as the wind gently lifts them in the breeze.
She looks paler today, skin fragile and paper-thin.
As she reaches for her glass of lemonade, her hand trembles, and I rush to help steady her grasp of the glass.
She breathes, deep and slow, eyeing me. “Thank you,” she says.
“No problem.” I pull up the other chair close to her and plop down. Then I let out the world’s longest sigh.
She chuckles. “You’re too young to sigh that heavy. Your crewneck matches the sky today.”
Her swift change of subject gives me pause, but I nod with a “hmm” and tilt my face back, exposing it to the beating sun and the scent of fresh-cut grass mixed with the hay the neighbors put out for the horses.
The hiss of Ms. Sullivan’s oxygen spurts and spittles, and I peek out of one eye to see her own eyes closed, a faint smile touching her lips.
It’s so peaceful here.
“Is Noah coming over tonight?” she asks.
I shrug. “I’m not sure. I want to say he and Max are on duty tonight.”
She lets out a contemplative noise.
“He plans on being here for New Year’s Eve, though. Told me himself he’s planning on making some kind of crack dip.”
“That shit’ll give him a heart attack. He doesn’t normally eat that way.”
“My fault.” I raise my hand, then quickly put it down.
“I was explaining a dip my mom used to make me and my brothers for football games. I couldn’t remember the name.
He told me it sounded like crack dip he had growing up, and now he’s set on making some.
I’m sure he’ll bring seven veggie platters to make up the difference. ”
Ms. Sullivan struggles to sit up while the breeze moves through the nearby trees with an even louder sigh than I let out minutes ago.
“You and him … have gotten close the past few weeks.”
I swallow. We have. Really close. I sort through the right words—was I supposed to tell her?
Or ask her permission? Certainly not. She’s not that type of mother, and clearly, she’s seen the signs.
Noah has openly kissed me in front of her when he leaves the house at night, and we’ve been out of the house for my dates lately.
My eyes widen. Oh no. Should I have had an actual conversation with her?
“Don’t shit your pants. I can’t breathe, I’m not blind. I’m not going to give you some my-son’s-too-good-for-you speech, so take a damn breath.”
My shoulders slump after she says that, but I’m cautious, curious even. What does she think of us? Of me with her son? The distant rustling of leaves is the only sound as the silence stretches on.
“Oh,” I manage to get out.
“There are some perks to being on one’s death bed, one being I get to say whatever the hell I want.”
I let out a burst of laughter that echoes along the backside of the house. My hands fidget in my laps as her gaze softens from that playful expression to something more serious.
“You love my son.” It’s not a question. There isn’t even an inflection in her frail voice.
“I do.” Might as well be honest. The man has driven me to fall in love with him and Max.
“Good.” She nods. “Now let’s talk about how to keep him from driving you absolutely insane.”
Surprised, I let out another chuckle and she grins, but unease slithers up my spine.
“First of all, Noah is terrible at asking for help. He’ll give it all day long, ten ways from Sunday, but when it comes to him, he’ll never let on he needs help. Your job is to ignore that nonsense and be a partner.”
“Got it. Help him first, yell at him later.”
She pauses to catch her breath, and the blanket pools down behind her back exposing her gray knit sweater.
Then she let out a shaky exhale, her voice turning quieter.
“He loves hard. When he gives his heart, it’s for keeps.
I’m not going to sit here and tell you that he means forever with you, that’s not my place and I don’t want to put that kind of pressure on you.
But I will say, he’ll carry the weight of everything for you, even things he doesn’t need to.
” She reaches over, her cold fingers weakly squeezing mine.
“Promise me, he won’t have to carry it all alone.
He’s afraid of being alone, of going through life alone.
He’ll never admit it, but I know he is. Promise me, he won’t have to go through this alone. ”
My chest aches, and there’s a part of me grasping to understand why she’s choosing now to tell me this. She’s not scaring me away, and maybe with the new year approaching, she wants to make sure she’s said what’s on her mind.
“I promise.”
She studies me one last time, nodding as if she’s made some final decision. Then her lips curve into a smirk. “The whole town is talking about how they never would’ve thought Noah would settle down … guess he was just waiting for the right person.”
I’m not sure why it makes me uncomfortable—like I’ve effectively stolen something that wasn’t mine, but I won’t apologize for it.
“Oh, and one more thing—he’s terrible at laundry. Don’t let him convince you he can do it.”
I let out a laugh, noting the empty lemonade glass in her hand. “Duly noted. Can I get you more to drink?”
She sighs, leaning against the neck pillow behind her. “Water, please. Thank you, Lily.”
I stand, she gives me her glass, and I move through the living room and into the kitchen. The lights are off and only the sunlight spills gently across the countertops and onto the floor leading to the fridge.
A filtered pitcher of ice water sits on the first shelf, and I grab it, kicking the door shut with my foot before pouring another glass. The plastic pill container sits open, the morning’s pills gone, and … huh. I didn’t have to bribe her today.
With the water back in the fridge, and her glass full, I can’t help but pop my head up to look out the front window above the sink and down the steps to the driveway. It’s silly. I know Noah’s working tonight, but still, I can’t help checking.