Chapter 22
22
RIDING THE STREETCAR WASN’T FOR ROOKIES. The next day after school found Hayley and me on one of the army-green cars running St. Charles Avenue. I was considering allowing her to ride the public transportation to and from the library. Considering being the key word.
We’d boarded and made our way down the center aisle. Wooden benches for two lined the walls, their slatted backs reversible, permitting riders in groups of three or four to sit facing one another. Being a late Thursday afternoon with nothing touristy going on in the city, only half of the car was occupied. Next week would herald a different story with Jazz Fest. For eleven days, music-loving tourists and locals from surrounding parishes would fill New Orleans, and the café, for the annual New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival.
Hayley followed me to the last set of seating on the right. With the bench before it vacant, she slid the back so we sat across from each other, each of us next to an open window. I’d hoped this outing, and the prospect of a little more freedom, would soften what I aimed to talk to her about. I fidgeted with my purse strap. The constant rocking of the car only increased the gurgle in my stomach from the coffee I’d downed before we’d left. I should’ve known better, but I had wanted the caffeine comfort.
I pitched my voice over the clunking of the streetcar’s compressor. “What do you think of Mr. Micah?”
Her gaze slid from the iconic views of the oak-lined street to me, a slight pucker gathering between her auburn brows. “That’s vague.”
“Is it?” I kept my tone light and adjusted the pull-down canvas shade above my open window, returning it all the way up.
Air streamed in, whipping Hayley’s long hair. “Do you want my opinion of him as a librarian, a general human being on the planet, or as your boyfriend?”
“He’s not...” I tucked my own flying hair behind my ears and strove for an unaffected demeanor. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
Over the intercom, a computerized voice announced an upcoming stop.
Mischief twinkled in Hayley’s eyes, so reminiscent of Claire. “But he wants to be. And so do you.”
I stiffened, the boards in the seatback pressing into my spine. “Why would you think that?”
She pulled a face. “I’m thirteen. Not some na?ve ten-year-old. I have eyes, and I see the way y’all look at each other.”
“And how is that?”
The brakes squealed, the car coming to a halt. A passenger lugging several plastic grocery bags made their way down the aisle to the back doors and exited. We accelerated, the whizz and hum of the motor growing louder, the vehicle returning to its rhythmic rocking.
The hint of a smirk played across Hayley’s features. “He watches you when you’re not looking, and you watch him when he’s not looking.” She gave half an eye roll. “So childish.”
Childish? My lips pursed. “Mind your manners, missy.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled and pulled a rubber band from her wrist, wrangling her hair into a ponytail. We passed another streetcar traveling in the opposite direction, our conductor waving at them. Hayley glanced at her phone and shoved it back in her cross-body purse. “As a librarian, Mr. Micah’s book recommendations are solid.”
Debatable . The man had, after all, given me a copy of Twilight . Though I hadn’t even cracked a page of the paperback, so maybe that was an unfair judgment.
“As a human being in general.” She shrugged. “Precious likes him.”
I held in a snort.
“He’s easy to talk to. And I’ve never seen him litter when he could have. Or curse. Not even when a toddler throwing a tantrum chucked a book and nailed Mr. Micah in his man parts.”
“What?”
“Oh yeah.” She nodded, straightening in her seat with a smile. “Jacob was there and said that definitely called for cursing.”
Jacob, Emma’s brother. The likelihood of him being Hayley’s last-minute ride home from the library gave me another reason for wanting to have a backup plan for her transportation.
“As your boyfriend...” She crossed her arms, leaning back all casual-as-you-please. “I think you should give him a chance.”
The tension that had been building within me eased. “So you’d be okay if I went on a date with him?”
“Sure.” She lifted a shoulder, returning her sights to the window.
My gaze drifted to the sign on the wall, noting the streetcar’s standing on the National Register of Historical Places. Next to the coffee still gurgling in my gut, an odd combination of anticipation and uncertainty churned. I was stepping into an unknown era. Rubbing the Crease, I tried to think rationally. It didn’t have to be a full step. I could ease one toe in at a time. And pull it out any moment. My heart could handle that. Right?
Hayley picked at her fingernail polish. The color hued the darkest of purples, one shade away from black. “But if y’all get serious, you need to warn him about Grandmother and Grandfather.”
My head tipped back with a groan, and Hayley raised her brows, giving me a That’s right look.
Growing up, Micah had had enough glimpses of my parents at Mawmaw’s Mardi Gras parties to form an opinion. And again when I’d been sick and at the last library event. Still, I’d have to properly forewarn him about my parents sooner rather than later. Because I was supposed to bring him to dinner. In two days. Now that Hayley knew about Micah, I could cancel. But I’d made a deal. And Mawmaw had always quoted Ecclesiastes, teaching us to keep our vows.
Our destination approached, and I nudged Hayley with my foot. “You need to pay attention. I won’t always be with you to make sure you get off at the right stop.” I pulled the thin metal wire running atop our windows, signaling the conductor we wanted to exit. The streetcar slowed, the brakes squealing. I stood, keeping one hand on the seat for balance, and motioned with my other hand for Hayley to follow. We made our way to the rear. With the green light over the back doors giving the all clear, I stepped down to them. “You have to push good and hard.” I shoved the doors, holding them open for Hayley, lest they swing back and knock her slight frame down. On the return trip home, I’d make her be the one to fight them. If I were a betting woman, I’d give her fifty-fifty odds.
We spilled out onto the neutral ground, and the streetcar continued on its way. I cast my gaze across St. Charles Avenue to the library. And to Micah in his Jeep, pulling away from the small parking lot. Strange . He was supposed to be working until the library closed. Did one sizzling make-out session qualify me for asking his whereabouts? We hadn’t even been on a date. Or defined our relationship as a relationship.
See? This was why the last decade of my life had been easy. What was I doing opening a can of worms at this point in my life?
I’d been granted a reprieve. That evening, Hayley and I had been eating Mayté’s tamales and talking about the café’s expansion, when Mama’s Jaws ringtone had interrupted us. Per usual, I’d let the call roll to voice mail. And per usual, I’d slowly chewed an antacid while belatedly listening to her message. Except this time, good news had poured from her lips. She’d moved our dinner back a week. Thank You, Lord!
I now walked the wraparound porch on the second floor. With the sun waning, and the sky transitioning to darker shades, the later hour had cooled the air. I’d pulled on a long-sleeve flannel over my T-shirt and shorts, and held one of Julia’s Nerf guns, scanning the trees for Cést Fou. To aid in my vigilance, and deter the feathered nightmare from taking up residence on my property at night, I’d repositioned the floodlights to shine on the trees. Hayley was in the shower, using every last drop of hot water, and Precious snoozed in a ball on the living room rug.
The scent of freshly cut grass wafted up, and I rotated my neck and shoulders, trying to ease the aches. I’d mowed the lawn and weed whacked today. Since I’d started cutting the grass again this past month, the lawnmower had been persnickety when starting up. As if it too, like the café’s fryer, were putting me on notice. My posture wilted at the thought of another added expense right now.
“Name one good thing” filtered through my thoughts in Mawmaw’s voice. How many times had she asked me and Claire to do that on this very porch when in the dumps over something? I closed my eyes and tuned out the traffic noise, concentrating on the breeze rustling through the leaves of the great oaks. One good thing was Hayley’s positive reaction to the idea of Micah and I dating.
Opening my eyes, I redirected my attention to my phone, my finger hovering over his name. Flutters erupted in my stomach, as though I were in junior high and calling a boy for the first time. Before I could chicken out, I hit dial and listened to several rings carry over the line.
“Well, hello.” Surprised delight filled his tone.
I actually felt the smile spreading across my face. “Hello.” I bit my lower lip, turning the corner from the side of the house to the rear. “What are you doing?”
“I’m on my way back from jiujitsu.”
“And did you beat anyone up in your little karate lesson? Like a third grader?”
He snickered. “You clearly need to come to one of my classes. What are you up to?”
“Not much. I’m on the balcony, keeping an eye out for that vile bird.” My gaze swept the oak for movement, my finger tightening on the toy gun’s trigger.
“Any sightings?”
“Not yet, though he left his calling card this morning.” I continued walking, looking down on my prayer nook, where I’d spent extra time today. Although I hadn’t sensed any certain direction from God with my business troubles or Micah, I had peace in talking to Him. In knowing He heard me. And cared. I pulled in a breath. There was no going back after this. “I talked to Hayley. About you.”
“And?” The playfulness from his tone vanished.
My gaze skimmed over and down to my neighbor’s yard, and the colored lights shimmering in his pool. “According to her you’re a solid librarian, don’t curse when socked in your man parts with a book, and she thinks I should give you a shot at dating.”
His exhale carried over the line.
A small lump of emotion gathered in my throat at his relief over Hayley’s consent.
“I bet Precious liking me had everything to do with her approval.”
My heart softened at how well he already knew Hayley. How he’d slid so easily into our lives. Yearning to see him in this moment ignited in my core. Maybe I’d ask him to come over. Maybe—
“For the record, I did curse when that kid threw the book,” he said. “I just did it very quietly. That happening isn’t what I signed up for with my job.”
I tensed, as though a bucket of ice had been dumped down my shirt. A sharp memory of Ryan pierced my mind. His words so long ago on the night he’d left. “This isn’t what I signed up for.” Caution, cold and jagged, bit into me, warning me against falling too hard and fast. Against the past repeating itself.
“Kate? You still there?”
I cleared my throat, dislodging what felt like wedged icy shards. “We ... we need to take things slow.”
“I had to wait twenty-seven years to kiss you again. If we go any slower, I may be too old to remember who you are.”
A blip of warmth breached the chill that had submerged me. I turned the corner, bringing me back to the view of St. Charles Avenue. My steps slowed, and I found myself reluctantly grateful for the curveball I was about to throw him. Or, really, test him with. “There’s one other thing. My parents want us to come to dinner next Saturday.”
“Can you hold on a second?”
“Sure.” Silence carried over the line. I stared at my phone’s screen. Had he really just ended our convo at the mention of my parents? My hand holding the phone collapsed at my side. “Well, that’s a big fat F,” I mumbled. “In bold red ink.” That ten percent of my heart that had opened to Micah shrank.
The clunk and clang of a streetcar drew my attention, its lone center headlight slicing through the inky dusk. Although I couldn’t blame Micah for not wanting to be around my parents, they were connected to me. Like cutting the lawn and battling fire ants, they were inevitable.
“Hey.” A masculine voice came from behind.
I whirled, a gasp lodging in my lungs, and pulled the trigger on the Nerf gun. An orange foam dart shot out, hitting Micah square in the chest before plunking to the floorboards.
“Sorry.” He held up his hands, laughter breaking free.
I clutched my phone to my breastbone, my pulse pounding in my ears.
“Didn’t mean to scare you.” He slid his own cell into the pocket of his track pants and reached down, picking up the dart. A gentle tease radiated in his expression. “Didn’t you say you wanted to take things slow? I’m all for going to that dinner, but officially meeting your parents seems like a giant step.”
His big fat F upgraded to an A-. “Says the man who’s stalking me.” I set my phone and the Nerf gun on a side table nestled between two patio chairs.
“It’s not stalking when you tell me exactly where you are.” He neared, the shadows giving way, revealing a red mark beneath one of his eyes.
My stomach dropped. “What happened?”
“Oh.” He waved me off. “I got elbowed in class. It happens.”
“That’s going to leave a bruise.” I chewed the inside of my cheek, examining the injury. “Will it be gone by next week?”
“Probably. It’s not a big deal.”
“But it will be to my mom.” I fought the impulse to rub the Crease, crossing my arms instead. “Good impressions are everything to her.”
“Are you forgetting last Saturday? Now, whether it was good or not...” He lifted a shoulder.
Ugh . He was right. I screwed my eyes shut, snippets of that day playing through my mind. Mama interrupting our kiss. She and Daddy witnessing Micah break up a fight. Shaking my head, I opened my eyes and found Micah staring at me. He hooked his thumbs into his front pockets, and his smile bent into a flirty curl. Those earlier flutters in my belly returned, and my jaw unclenched, my frustration defusing.
He drew himself up to his full height, his T-shirt slightly stretching against his chest. “You’re really sexy when you’re agitated.”
I scoffed. “You should watch me reconciling my bank accounts.” And had he called me sexy? A vehicle with a shot muffler rumbled down the street, and in my periphery, I caught sight of the lampposts along the neutral ground flickering on.
Micah neared, an air of certainty in his movements. And with every step closer, my irritation inexplicably waned. Stopping before me, he reached for my hand, sending a million tingles across my skin from the simple touch.
I pulled in a lungful of air and stared up at him. “I know you probably think I’m overreacting. It’s just ... my mom doesn’t need something else to pick on me about.”
He grew still, his brows drawing together. “From what I’ve seen and heard from you and Hayley, I’d say trying to please her is a lost cause.” His thumb caressed the top of my hand.
Slowly, I nodded. “But I feel like I should try. Maintaining some semblance of a relationship with my parents was important to Claire. She was the one who started our monthly dinners with them after Mawmaw’s death as a sort of olive branch.”
With a concerned tilt to his lips, he considered me. “Even olive trees can run out of branches.”
I tried and failed at a smile, only managing a nod.
His solemn gaze leveled on me. “I’m not going to let anything ruin dinner with your parents.”
My heart pitter-pattered at his sincerity.
A mischievous smile curved one edge of his mouth. “I’ll even iron my fanciest Hawaiian shirt.”
A puff of laughter escaped me.
His fingers entwined with mine. A perfect fit.
Goldilocks .
Gently, he squeezed my fingers. “So, Hayley’s good with us?”
“She is,” I whispered.
His other hand lifted, cupping my face, his calloused thumb brushing against my cheek. “And you’re good with us too?”
A heated shiver dashed down my spine, nearly vanquishing the last of the chill from that long-ago memory of Ryan. Throat too dry to speak, I nodded.
Smile lines creased the corners of his eyes, his gaze earnest and smoldering. He leaned down, his lips tenderly meeting mine. Unlike our previous kiss, this one held a note of gravity. Of intentions. Of a declaration. Longing unfurled within, stretching and reaching. Hoping to find steady ground.
Don’t make me promises you won’t keep.
Don’t use me.
And if I fall in love with you, don’t leave.