Chapter 17
The knock on the door surprised Dan out of his near stupor.
He’d been flicking through some of his old designs, wishing he had more motivation to work, but feeling far too distracted about Zoe.
The memory of her crying in his arms, her body so slender and fragile, kept making his heart ache in a way that had him wanting to storm next door and tell her she could trust him.
He wasn’t usually one for grand gestures, but maybe sometimes they were needed.
Now he put his laptop aside as he hurried to the door.
“Zoe!” He stared at her in both surprise and hope; she was soaking wet, her t-shirt clinging to her skin, her pink pixie cut spiky with rainwater.
“It was wetter outside than I thought,” she managed as she plucked her sopping t-shirt away from her body. Dan was doing his best not to notice how her clothes clung to her lithe curves. “Do you mind if I come in?”
“Of course, of course.” He stepped aside as she inched her way into the house.
“Where’s Sophie?”
“At the boardgame café again. She’s been spending a lot of time there.”
“Oh.” A flush rose to Zoe’s damp cheeks. “Sorry if I’m disturbing you—”
“You’re not,” Dan assured her quickly. He was glad, ridiculously so, that she was here at all. “But would you like to change? You’re absolutely soaked.”
Zoe glanced down at her body; Dan could see the outline of her bra beneath the thin, wet cotton, and he quickly yanked his gaze away, not for the first time. “Maybe,” she allowed with a shaky laugh.
“Hold on one sec.” Dan hurried upstairs to grab a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants; both would swim on Zoe, but it was the best he could do. He reached for a towel as well and then hurried downstairs. “Here you go,” he said, handing them all to her. “The bathroom’s at the top of the stairs.”
“Thanks.” She walked upstairs slowly, his clothes in her arms, and as the bathroom door clicked shut, Dan quietly released a pent-up breath.
What was Zoe doing here? He was very glad she’d come, but he had no idea if she was going to tell him to butt out of her and her parents’ lives or welcome him in a little more. He knew what he wanted.
What felt endless but was only a few minutes later, Zoe came back downstairs.
His t-shirt and sweatpants engulfed her slender figure, and the sight of her slim ankles peeking out from the wide cuffs caused a wave of tenderness to rush through him.
She’d dried her hair with the towel, and it was sticking up in pretty pink spikes all about her face.
“I left my clothes drying in the bathroom,” she told him. “I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course,” he said quickly. “Do you… do you want something to drink?” he asked, and she shook her head.
“I’m okay, but thanks.” She sank her hands into the hem of the oversized t-shirt as she hunched her shoulders. “I don’t actually know what I came over here to say. I don’t have anything rehearsed.”
“Well, I don’t either,” Dan told her. He nodded toward the sofa. “Shall we sit?”
She curled up one end, tucking her bare feet beneath her. As she folded her arms, Dan glimpsed the tattoos he’d seen before, and he decided they might be as good a starting point as anything, since she seemed reluctant to talk.
“Tell me about your tattoos,” he invited. He pointed to one that looked like some kind of bird, on her bicep. “What’s that one?”
She stretched out her arm, glancing down at the simple ink drawing with a pensive look on her face. “It’s a swallow,” she said after a moment, her voice low. “Flying free.”
Dan leaned forward to inspect the drawing more closely—a bird with its wings outstretched, soaring upwards. “Does it have a special meaning to you?” he asked gently.
Zoe traced the design with a fingertip. “My mom loves birdwatching. I used to take her out in the woods—there’s a bird sanctuary just north of here.
We haven’t been in years, though, but she always said she’d like to be a swallow, the way they can soar so high and free.
” A small sigh escaped her. “I got the tattoo when her MS made her essentially housebound a couple of years ago. A reminder to both of us that one day she will fly free.”
She curled her arm back up, wrapping it around her waist, her head bent so he couldn’t see the expression on her face.
“And the other one?” he asked after a moment.
After a few seconds’ pause, she stretched out her other arm, so he could see the tattoo on her forearm.
It was a tent, the old-school kind he’d camped in as a kid.
“My dad always likes to remind me that this world is not our home,” she told him.
“That, like Abraham, we live in tents, as strangers here.” She ducked her head.
“I told you, they’re kind of religious.”
“Yeah, I remember,” Dan replied with a smile.
“I got this one a few years ago. As much a reminder to me as to him, I guess.” She glanced down at it, her face drawn into somber lines.
“I think I need the reminder now. Or I’ve had it, anyway.
” She glanced up at him, and now she looked bleak—and scared.
Dan’s heart ached for her. “My dad had a blood transfusion last week. Usually he’s pretty peppy after he has one, at least for a little while.
But this time it’s like… it’s like it didn’t take. ”
Dan nodded slowly. He felt her fear, and he understood it. He remembered those stomach-churning months, when his mom had had cancer and every doctor’s appointment had brought more bad news. “Can you talk to his doctor about it?” he asked.
She nodded slowly. “I’ve made an appointment, but I need to gear myself up for what I’m afraid we’re going to hear.” She paused, her arms wrapped tight around her waist. “That his MDS is worse, that maybe it’s graduated into AML—acute myeloid leukemia. And that we’re looking at the endgame.”
Dan didn’t know enough about the nature of the disease to offer any useful advice, and he knew Zoe had to realize that, as well. But then he didn’t think she’d come here looking for advice. She needed sympathy as well as support, and those he could give.
“That sounds very tough,” he told her quietly. “And a lot for you to deal with on your own.” He paused. “Do you think your dad knows what’s happening?”
“Probably,” she answered after a moment, “and I don’t think he’s scared to die.
But he’ll be worried for me, leaving me on my own with my mom.
Because she’s getting worse, too.” Her voice wobbled.
“I can’t stand thinking about it all, and so generally I don’t.
” She drew a swift, shuddering breath. “Which is part of the reason why I’ve…
kept people at a distance. Because I don’t want people asking all the time, and you know how everyone in Starr’s Fall is…
they’d be concerned, but they’d also be nosy.
I’d be running interference constantly, so even though part of me wishes people would ask more, I understand why they don’t, because they can probably tell I don’t like it.
” She drew her knees to her chest, hugging them closely.
“But it’s more than that,” she confessed.
“When I saw you in the living room with my mom and dad…” Her breath hitched before she forced herself to continue, “I felt surprised, but after that, I realized I felt embarrassed.”
She lifted her head to stare at him openly, her gaze full of misery.
“Isn’t that awful? I felt embarrassed—of them, in their feebleness, and of myself, in having someone see how…
how pathetic and small my life really is, taking care of them.
” She sniffed, shaking her head. “I’ve always portrayed myself as this tough, wise-cracking cookie.
It became this persona I could put on like—like armor.
That’s how everyone sees me here, as smart, sassy Zoe, with the pink hair and the piercings and the tattoos.
I’ve made sure that’s how they see me, and I never let anyone close enough to realize it’s all an act.
” She bowed her head, her chin resting on her knees.
“Isn’t that awful?” she asked again in a whisper.
“Oh, Zoe.” Dan’s voice was tender. He longed to touch her, to give her the comfort of a hug or even just the brush of a hand, but she seemed so tightly held, her body formed into a little ball, that he decided not to dare.
“It isn’t awful at all. We all find ways to cope, just to survive, and you’ve had so much to deal with, you did what you could.
I understand it, trust me, and I’m speaking as someone who has had a pretty small and pathetic life of my own. ”
“I love my parents so much,” she whispered brokenly. “I hate, hate the thought that they might suspect I felt that way, even for a second. I’ve already given them enough grief.”
“How have you given them grief?” Dan asked gently. She seemed like a model daughter to him.
She shrugged, so her t-shirt slid off one bare shoulder.
“I was pretty difficult as a teenager. Angry about their illnesses, rebelling any way I could. I shoplifted…” She smiled wryly at Dan in acknowledgment of his own daughter’s checkered history in that matter before continuing, “Although I’m not even sure they knew about that.
But I acted out a lot, got suspended for skipping school, was just a pain in the butt, basically, all the time. ”
She sighed, the sound full of regret. “I think, really, I was just trying to hide my unhappiness, but when I remember all they were going through at the time—my dad having to retire from a career he loved, teaching economics at Quinnipiac—and my mom going downhill so fast… I feel really guilty.”
“Zoe, you were a teenager,” Dan reminded her. “And you were going through a lot. Speaking as a parent myself, and of a teen who also has been hiding her unhappiness in a similar fashion, I think your parents would have completely understood your behavior.”
“When I was eighteen, I went away to art school,” she told him.
“My dad was insistent I go. He wanted me to have that chance. But then he got diagnosed that spring and so I came home. He always felt guilty that I did, but the truth was, I didn’t even like being away.
I thought I was this big-city badass, but I really wasn’t.
I was pretty much miserable the whole time, got my heart broken by a stupid boy, and yet getting out of Starr’s Fall was what I’d been dying to do, and demanding, all the while I was at home.
” She shook her head. “I feel guilty about that, too.”
“You aren’t the first person to realize the dream is better than the reality,” Dan told her wryly.
“You were figuring yourself out, Zoe. At that age, it’s expected.
It’s necessary.” He reached out to touch her hand, and when she didn’t pull away, he gently twined his fingers with hers.
“I think,” he said quietly, “you need to cut yourself some serious slack.”
Zoe didn’t reply, her lowered gaze on their twined fingers. Dan imagined he could feel her pulse through her fingers, his own tingling with awareness of her skin touching his, even in such a small way. It felt like the most intimate he’d been with another human being in a long time.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. Her fingers tightened briefly on his and just as before when they’d been sitting on the sofa, the light dim and the mood hushed, everything turned expectant.
Now, Dan knew, was not the time to make a move, as much as he was aching to kiss her. She was far too vulnerable. And so he eased back, their hands still linked, just as the front door was thrown open.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sophie screeched. “Again?”