CHAPTER 11
Riggs
“Hey, it’s not funny. Elsie is no joke.”
I check my watch. I can’t believe we’ve been talking for an hour now. It seems like we just sat down. And where the hell is my brother?
She was just making fun of me for being afraid of my baby sister.
I can’t remember ever enjoying myself this much with a woman, and all we’re doing is laughing and joking with each other.
Our waitress cleared our table a while ago, so I’ve been ordering dumb stuff, like chili-cheese fries and sampler platters, as an excuse to make this last a little longer. What’s the harm in that?
“It’s kind of funny,” she says with a smirk. Then she throws herself back in her chair with a deep sigh. “I have two older brothers who don’t care what I think about anything.” Suddenly she shoots forward and leans in with a serious look in her eyes. “What makes you and Ash so afraid of her?”
I love how animated she is. Twirling a carrot stick in a cup of ranch dressing from yet another appetizer platter, I’m wondering what to order next.
I could do this all day. “Where to begin?” I say meeting her gaze.
“Don’t get me wrong—we love her to death.
Everything we’re able to do is because of her so she deserves our respect… and our gratitude.”
“Yeah, but you don’t just respect her. You’re afraid of her.” Her eyes fall to my biceps. “How is that possible?”
“I guess you’d have to meet her. She may be small, but there’s a thousand-pound Kodiak bear inside that tiny frame, and you don’t want it coming out.”
She takes a carrot stick, dips it in the ranch dressing and plops it in her mouth considering what I just said. “Like on the phone call yesterday?”
I bite back a laugh. “That was nothing. You should see what happens when the mama bear comes out. Best to find a safe place to hide.”
“I like her already. She sounds like a real badass.”
She likes her already? For a minute there, I was worried I was making Elsie sound like a real bitch. Interesting that Blondie would see her as a badass. I wonder if her interest in my sister has something to do with her own family. “You say your brothers don’t respect you?”
“Hmph! They don’t respect themselves, let alone me.”
“How often do you see them?”
She rolls her eyes like she just bit into a lemon. “Every day. We live together.”
That surprises me. “You live with your brothers?”
“Yeah. We still live at home with my parents. I’m only there to take care of my mother. I moved back when she was diagnosed with breast cancer.”
Her gaze drops and I can tell we’re venturing into delicate territory. I give her some space as she takes another carrot from the platter and stirs it mindlessly in the dressing as if lost in thought.
The revelation that her mother has cancer hits home. “I’m sorry about your mom. My mother had cancer too.” It used to be too painful to talk about, but it’s gotten easier with time.
Her back stiffens as her gaze burrows into me. “What kind?”
I don’t want to tell her, not when her mother is still fighting it.
She looks so hopeful, and I think I may have made a mistake when I said my mother had cancer.
She probably thinks my mom was a survivor.
I remember what it was like to grasp for anything that could give you hope, but what happened with our mother won’t give anyone hope. “Um… it was also breast cancer.”
“And she’s… Did she…”
Man, I hate to tell her. I shouldn’t have brought it up. “She…”
“Oh,” she exhales with slumped shoulders. “I’m sorry. How long ago?”
I see the sadness in her eyes, and it brings back so many memories.
“Three years. We still miss her, but it does get easier with time.” I search for something, anything that might give her comfort.
“But she was stage four when they found it, so she had a lot going against her. Other women make full recoveries all the—”
“My mom has stage four.” She turns toward the tall windows that showcase the impressive mountain landscape.
Around us, daily life continues with the sounds of dinnerware clanking somewhere in the kitchen, people talking, and servers taking orders.
After a moment she turns back. “But she’s going to make it, I know it.
” Her tone doesn’t carry the confidence her words were meant to convey, which means she’s not sure of anything.
She drops the carrot on her plate and stares at it for a moment before picking up a celery stick then continues stirring the ranch dressing with it. I think she just needs something to do with her hands.
I remember telling myself the same thing, that no matter what, Mom was going to make it.
I didn’t want to believe she could actually die.
I also remember the day the doctor told us it was only a matter of time, that there was nothing more they could do.
Ash was a mess and it was the only time I’d ever seen Elsie cry.
I was trying to be strong for both of them, but I wasn’t doing a very good job of it.
Knowing my mother’s battle was coming to an end was a lot to deal with.
I reach over and gently rest my hand on her arm. “I’m so sorry. I know what you’re going through, and it sucks.”
She looks directly into my eyes, and her face softens. “Yeah, it does suck. People who have never gone through anything like this don’t understand.”
As much as I enjoy the warmth of her soft skin, I bring my hand back and study her for a moment.
You never know what people are going through.
She appeared to be a carefree, beautiful woman who, I’m sure, just needed a short break to catch her breath.
That’s probably how she ended up here. If I had to venture a guess, her mother probably set it up and insisted she come to get some much-needed rest. Our mother did the same kinds of things.
“They don’t understand, yet they always offer advice,” I add. “Well-meaning people would encourage me to not give up hope because a miracle could come at any time. I was so sick of their unrealistic optimism.”
“And everyone feels sorry for you,” she says gripping the celery stick like it offended her. “I hate that.”
A slight gleam is returning to her eyes, probably because someone else understands. “I did, too, but what can you do? It’s just how people act. We all do.”
“I know, but it doesn’t make things any easier. I just wish my brothers would help.”
“Are they working a lot?”
“They’re drinking and fishing a lot. My dad owns a roofing business, if you can call it a business.
He spends most of his time at the casino playing poker.
When my brothers should be roofing, they’re at the gravel pit fishing and getting drunk.
” She drops the celery stick in the bowl and slouches in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest. Suddenly her brows scrunch together the same way Elsie’s do when she’s wondering if she could get away with murdering me and Ash for having done something she deemed unforgivable.
“Before you suggest it might be their way of coping,” she adds as if reading my mind, “nothing has changed. They were doing the same thing before our mother had cancer. The only difference is, I wasn’t living there, so it didn’t bother me, at least not as much. ”
“It sounds like a terrible situation. If I learned anything from our mother’s situation, it’s that you can’t worry about everything all at once. You have to learn to tackle one thing at time and remember you have limits. You can’t fix what you can’t fix. It’s one day at a time, right?”
“Yeah,” she says nodding thoughtfully. “One day at a time.”
I think maybe it’s a good time to change the subject. “How long are you here for?”
“We leave first thing Monday morning. You?”
“I guess it depends on how things go with the film crew.” Instinctively I check my watch again.
“If they haven’t come by now, my guess is it won’t happen until sometime tomorrow.
That means we’ll probably leave tomorrow night, maybe Sunday at the latest. Either way, I need to get my sorry ass to LA for the event Elsie set up for us. ”
“What kind of event?”
“We’re supposed to show a bunch of kids how to do outdoor stuff.”
Her eyes light up. “Kids? That sounds fun.”
I can’t keep from smiling just thinking about it. “It will be, actually. I love kids.” Then, without thinking, I blurt, “If I’m lucky, I’ll have a couple of my own someday.”
As soon as the words come out, I regret it.
Why would I tell her something like that?
I never talk about my hopes and dreams, not with anyone, so why now?
Maybe it’s her. She’s been so easy to talk to, and even though I know nothing about her, I already feel like I can tell her anything.
Strange, I’ve never felt that way with a woman.
Even after dating Veronica for a while, I never mentioned wanting to be a dad someday. Blondie is so different.
I look up only to realize she’s glaring at me like… I don’t, like maybe I shared too much.
“Really?” she says. “You want kids?”
I’m taken aback by the question, or rather, how she’s asking it, like it’s a big surprise. Maybe it wasn’t as cringy as I thought. “Yeah, of course I want kids. Why? You don’t?”
I can’t read her blank expression, but something tells me I hit a nerve.
She’s playing with her napkin now, staring at it like it’s a window to the past. “Until a few months ago, it’s all I thought about.”
Her voice trails off. Clearly this whole thing with kids is a sensitive subject. Should I say something encouraging? What? For all I know, she just found out she’s not able to have kids?
Finally, her gaze lifts to mine and I’m guessing there’s a story behind those sad eyes. “I love kids,” she says, gripping her napkin. “But it’s… it’s just not worth it. You know, all the head games and bullshit that comes with dating. You think you know someone only to find out you don’t.”
Ah, I see what’s happening. “Sounds like you’ve had the wrong kinds of relationships.”
Her brows shoot up into high arches with a tiny gasp, and I have no idea why.
The same thing happened out at the camp when I mentioned she had been gone for a while, only this is different, maybe worse.
It’s starting to feel like I’m walking through a minefield and one misstep triggers her.
If I had to guess, some guy hurt her, and from the looks of it, pretty bad.
To my disappointment, she pushes her chair back and hastily comes to her feet with, “You could say that.”
Clearly, I said something wrong. Not knowing what else to do, I stand too.
Taking in the situation, I know what this is.
From the stressed look she’s giving me, it couldn’t be more obvious.
This is the last time I’m going to see her, and even though we just met, I don’t want it to end on a sour note like this.
But before I can say anything, she holds out her hand.
“It was nice meeting you.” She gives me a forced, halfhearted smile with, “I hope your thing with the network goes well.”
Really? A handshake? I don’t know what else I could have expected. I mean, it’s not like we were going to hug or anything. I’ve known her for a minute, but still, it feels like there should be more. At the same time, I wasn’t going to ask for her number, so why should I care? I shouldn’t, but I do.
Out of options—at least any that I can think of—with a sigh, I shake her hand. “It was nice meeting you too.”
I cup the back of my neck and clumsily add, “I need to go do some more work on the camp.” I check my watch, not really needing to see the time, it’s just something to do in this awkward situation.
“Yeah, I have a couple of hours of work to get done out there before tomorrow.” It’s true, and I was kind of hoping she’d want to tag along, but I can see that’s no longer an option.
“Stay safe,” she says dryly.
And with that, she turns and walks away.
Damn, I don’t even know her name.