Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
LOUISA
T he service was short. Few people came. Harry stood as still as stone as the preacher man said his piece and they lowered the wooden coffin into the ground. I can’t even begin to imagine how he is feeling. The last words to his?—
I stifle a sob. My heart breaks for Harry.
His jaw feathers when someone tosses dirt onto the coffin, now low in the earth.
Fine fingers squeeze around my own. I glance to my side, where Rosie stands, tears streaming down her face. Her black hat shrouds most of her face. The black dress I found for her at the thrift store hugs her figure. It’s the least I could do.
“If anyone would like to say some words for Eddy?” the preacher man asks.
The small crowd shifts but doesn’t answer.
Harry’s shoulders rise and fall evenly as he turns and walks away.
“Oh, Harry,” Rosie sobs.
“If you would like to join us for the wake later at the tavern.” The preacher’s words are halfhearted, a final statement.
Murmurs rise as the rest of the crowd disperses. I turn and hug Rosie. She shakes as I rub her back. The ache that grew in my chest for this woman the second Harry told me what happened blooms to life again.
“Can I take you home, Rosie?”
She holds me at arm’s length. Her face breaks as she tilts her head. “Evelyn is taking me home with her. I don’t think I can go back there. Not just yet.”
“Okay, but here”—I pull from her grip and pull out a small notepad and pen, scribbling down my number—“is my number. Please use it if you need anything. And if you’re up to it. We can still cook, if you want to keep busy and all.”
She scrunches her face, patting my cheek. “I would love to, hon.”
“Good, we’ll make something amazing.” The last two syllables are weak with emotion. It’s all I can do to not cry again.
I mean, he was a miserable old man and made her life a living hell. But he was Harry’s father, and I’m sure he’d been a good man at one time. He would have had to, for a woman like Rosie to have married him.
I walk with her back to the truck. Harry sits in the driver’s seat, turned outward, heels resting on the running board. The brim of his hat rotates through his fingers.
“I should find Evelyn. She should be here somewhere. You two make your way back. I’ll see you later, my love.” She nods to Harry. He returns the gesture as the hat stills in his hands. “And you Wednesday, Louisa.”
“Sure, Rosie.” I hug her again; I can’t help it. I want to protect her, the way she did for me before...
She breaks from my hold a moment later and walks for Evelyn’s car. I wait until she is safely inside and the car drives away.
“Thank you for coming, but you didn’t have to.” The voice behind me is raw. I have to compose myself before I turn around.
When I do, Harry’s deep blues are stuck on mine instantly.
“I wanted to,” I utter. I don’t move closer.
God, all I want to do is protect his heart from all this. Like he should have had his entire life, instead of a father who tormented him. It’s my guess Rosie stayed because financially she’d no other choice. And now?
“Come on, you should get back to the diner.” Harry stands and rounds the hood, pulling my door open.
The diner is the last place I want to be right now. But after my shift ends in about two hours, I have an afternoon of Brad.
I almost forgot about the buffer I’d created. My Brad buffer. Who is supposed to be the wall between me and none other than the man in front of me. And currently, I’m wishing I never put it there. But I slide into the seat and stay quiet on the way back to the diner.
Five minutes later, Harry pulls over in front of the diner. He stares at his hands gripped around the wheel as we idle, parked in an awkward silence.
“Well, thanks for the lift,” I say, feeling stupid as hell the second the words leave my mouth.
Harry clears his throat and hops out. A moment later, my door opens. Taking it as my hint to leave him be, I slide from the truck. The thought of leaving him, though, doesn’t sit right. We might not be friends, or even on the same page right now. Despite the fact we can’t seem to get out of each other’s orbit, my heart aches to leave him this way.
“If you need anything,” I utter, popping to my toes to kiss his cheek.
My nerves are shot.
My words weak.
But he simply nods and closes the door behind me as I walk down the street. I turn back at the diner entrance, glancing at the old buckboard. He sits back behind the wheel, staring at his hands again. Pushing through the doors, I make my way into the back and change.
My mind is a scattering of Harry, Rosie, and the life I left behind ten years ago. The what-ifs of if I hadn’t run halfway across the country from it all. What would things look like now if I’d stayed put when he dropped to one knee?
“How you doin’, darlin’?” Cynthia slides into my space with a soft, empathetic smile.
“Oh, hey, I’m fine.”
I’m the last person this small town should be worrying about. Harry and Rosie need their support, not me.
“Well, if that changes, you know where to find me.”
“Thanks, Cynthia. How was the morning?”
“You know, the same old, same old. Not much changes in this town, hon.”
I chuckle. “Guess not.”
The entire reason I left was because of that very sentiment. Now, being back here, I’m not sure whether that’s a bad thing anymore. I promise myself I’ll check in on both Rosie and Harry in the next few days and set my focus on the last few hours of my shift and my afternoon with Brad.
* * *
The weekend rolls around, and I’m at the small lake in the center of Lewistown. It’s pretty. And it is currently lined with stalls and families out for the afternoon. Brad’s been part of the community initiative for years, apparently. And now, by extension, so am I. His family owns the accounting firm in town, and they have a charity drive for locals every year. They own shares in many of the businesses around town—some they even own outright, or so he told me on the drive out here.
Even Mama Mancini has a pop-up stall, with her baked Italian goodies drawing most of the crowd. Who could blame them? Her food is something straight out of Little Italy, and as divine as a bite can be. I stand behind the stall taking gifts for the children’s ward at the hospital.
“Here you are, sweetheart,” a familiar voice says, handing over a box with a toy truck inside. I look up from the clipboard home to the list of names and donated goods to find Rosie.
“Oh, hi! Thank you.” I move around the table, folding her into my arms. She smiles and returns the hug.
“How are you?” I ask as she steps out of my hold. I look her over. She looks okay, the same Mrs. Rawlins I’ve always known, her demeanor and dress unchanged. “How’s Harry doin’?”
“Well, you know my boy, keeping himself busy. Always a fence to mend or something to build.”
I tilt my head with a sad smile. I know Harry. But I was gone for ten years. So, I know him only as well as my absence over the last decade affords.
“He would love to see you, I’m sure. Are you still coming for our Wednesday lesson?” Her eyes search mine.
“Of course, wouldn’t miss it. I can pick you up. We can cook at my place, if that’s easier?”
She pats my hand. A knowing look that only time and experience brings covers her face. “You come to us, darlin’. I’m not afraid of my own house.”
“Are you sure? Harry can drive you in if you’re not comfortable driving with me?”
“No. Sweet pea, I know you’re tryin’ your best to protect this old lady. But I’m fine, really. See you for morning tea Wednesday. I’ll bake something and put on the pot, then we will cook.”
She waves me off as she follows Evelyn toward the next stall. I watch her go, still awestruck at the strongest woman I’ve ever met.
“Louisa, where do these go?” My thoughts are ambushed by Brad. I spin back to find him with his arms full of wrapped gifts.
“Oh, shoot. In the bin for lucky dip, hey. Who knows what’s in them.”
He gives me a stiff nod and drops the presents into the large plastic bin behind him. When he turns back, his gaze wanders in the direction Rosie went.
“She doin’ okay?” he asks.
“I think so.”
He comes to stand beside me and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Did you want to go for ice cream after this?”
I meet his gaze. The brown eyes searching my face are hopeful. He’s sweet, if not a little standoffish at times. I should make more of an effort.
“Yeah, that would be nice. Maybe we could drive out to the lookout after?”
“Why?” His brows furrow.
Um, because that’s what couples do?
Hang out, look at the stars.
Snuggle up and make out.
“Oh, it’s just a thought.”
Brad’s mother, Dot, wanders over. “That’s a wonderful idea, Louisa! Honey.” She turns to her son and straightens his collar, and I have to look away as light crimson crawls up his neck. “You two young ones take off. Ice cream and the lookout sound perfect.”
Brad feigns an awkward smile as she pats his face like a little boy. I roll my bottom lip through my teeth, if only to keep the giggle wanting out of my throat down. We walk back to his car and climb inside.
“Sorry about my mom, she gets like that about girls.”
Girls?
How old are we?
“It’s fine; it’s sweet. At least she cares.”
“Yeah, tell that to every girl in this town she’s harassed to go out with her only son. God, it’s so embarrassing. I’m not...”
I place my hand over his resting on his thigh. “How about we get out of here?”
His hand slips out from under mine in one swift motion. His face reddens for the second time in five minutes. “I don’t really do personal space.”
Is he kidding?
“Oh, okay.” I sit up in the passenger’s seat and run my hands over my shorts, which now feel way too tiny. All of a sudden, feeling self-conscious, I wind down the window. Did it just heat up in here? I feel like the salacious woman trying to seduce some innocent guy who’s never been touched.
Maybe Brad hasn’t?
California was many things, frigid not one of them. The small-town country girl I was before I left lasted about six months before I fell headfirst into the life lessons I’m sure city girls learn way earlier than I did.
When we pull up in front of the ice cream place, I wait for my door to open.
But it doesn’t move. Brad just waits by the store’s front door, hands in his pockets, eyes darting around as if someone might see us. I sigh and push out of the car, making my way to where he stands. I grip my purse by my side, adjusting its long strap over my shoulder.
Ordering our ice cream, we find a booth and eat in silence. Pretty sure this is not what your mother had in mind, Brad. You know what this guy needs? Some life experiences of his own. I lick the ice cream from the round scoop and hold his gaze. His eyes widen. I fight the urge to burst into hysterical laughter.
I shouldn’t mess with him.
But, ugh, he is such a prude.
No physical contact.
No small talk.
Scratch that—no talk, period.
“We should head to the lookout before the stars start coming out. That’s the best part, you know, watching them pop into the sky one at a time.”
“Okay. You finished?”
“Yep.” I wrap the last of my cone in a napkin and place it on the small plate on the table.
“Do you know any of the constellations?” Brad says all of a sudden.
“A few, you?”
“Most of them. It’s kind of a family hobby.”
Ah, of course he does.
We drive the ten minutes to the lookout, the highest point in the geographical makeup of the outskirts of Lewistown. Brad kills the engine, and we sit on the warm hood of his car. He is more animated now that we are doing something he’s obviously interested in.
I have hope.
I lie back on the hood and slide my hands onto my stomach. It’s so peaceful out here. And the last few weeks of my transition back to this small town seem to fade out as the first star does, in fact, pop into the darkening sky. I grab Brad’s shirt and pull him backward. He lies beside me, glancing at me every few seconds, like I’ll vanish if he doesn’t check back.
When the sky darkens, he points to the first cluster of stars gracing the sky. “See those there?”
The wind picks up a little and it’s cool. I shuffle closer. His warmth is nice. I follow the line of his pale arm, past his manicured fingertip to the blanket of inky blackness overhead. The bunch of stars he’s trying to show me look familiar.
“What are they?” I ask.
“Ursa Major.” His arm moves, finger pointing to the next set of stars. “This one here is Hercules.”
“Oh, there you go. I didn’t know that. Never took the time to learn them.”
“They are tricky when you first start star watching. But once you see them. You see them, you know.”
Yeah, I know. Like people. Or a person. It’s like the day I really saw Harry, I could never unsee him. He cannot not exist to me. I sit up in a panic. I’m literally lying on some other guy’s hood, pickin’ out stars, surrounded by all this nature and beauty, and my mind is still stuck on damn repeat over Harry Rawlins.
“Brad?”
He sits up. “You need to go home?”
“No,” I say and grab his shirt. Before he gets the chance to pull from my hold, my lips are on his. He stiffens, then relaxes. I run my hands to his jaw. He makes a small groan as his hands land on my hips.
His mouth is still closed.
His eyes are probably open.
I break away.
Brown eyes, full of surprise and wonder, stare back at me. “Louisa, I want to?—”
I pull his mouth to mine.
The grimace shuddering through my body is involuntary. It’s like kissing a sibling. Hands press against my breasts. Now he gets into it? Seriously?
I push away and hold him at arm’s length. “Brad, I?—”
“I know, this is so special. I can’t believe what’s happening. My mother’s right, you are so lovely.”
I cringe on the inside.
Things are going from awkward to plain awful.
There is no chemistry here. No spark. No anything , really.
“We should go,” I say, sliding off the hood.
“Sure, you need your rest. Up early and all.”
I don’t work Sundays, but I’ll keep that fact to myself.
We ride back into town in silence. Brad looks pleased with himself. I suppress the urge to roll my eyes at him. I’m about to make a break for it and wrap up the night when he leans over. “Night, Louisa.”
His eyes close. He leans over the seat, his face so close. I dot a kiss on his cheek. “Night.”
I climb out of the car and go to shut the door when he says, “Oh, there’s a dance on next weekend. Would you like to go with me? I’m not sure about the dancing, but there’ll be a crowd and a cookout.”
He doesn’t dance. Figures.
I should say no. I should shut this down before he gets any other bright ideas for dates. Just my luck, he finally thaws, and I’m not interested.
The rumble of a pickup rollin’ through the quiet street snags my attention. I look up to it, and that blue buckboard of Harry’s squeals to a stop at one of the few intersections in Main Street.
He doesn’t notice me.
I hope.
I bend down, meeting Brad’s gaze, and force my best smile. “Sure, what time will you pick me up?”
“Seven okay?”
“Perfect, see you then.”
“Yeah, sure.”
I stay low, hanging in Brad’s car as the rumble moves past and fades. I’m a coward. I know. But the one thing I won’t do is start something I can’t finish. Harry’s been through enough. And a huge part of it is my fault.
I stand tall and shut the car door before pivoting and heading inside. Mama Mancini waits for me, sitting at a front table. I’m not three steps into the restaurant before she waves for me to sit.
“Bella, what are you doin’ with that poor boy?”
Boy?
Guess I’m not the only one who has noticed it, then.
“Just hanging out.” I look out the window as Brad’s car pulls away from the curb.
“You want to know a secret, bambina ?”
I chuckle at the way she refers to me as a baby. “Of course.”
“ Al cuore non si comanda .”
“What does it mean?” I ask.
She pats my hand. Her focus wanders toward the kitchen. The sounds of Papa Mancini still cleaning up drift through the restaurant, tangling around us as if to drive home the point I am sure she is about to make. I can tell by the look in her eyes.
“It means love will not be commanded. You cannot control your heart, bella. It is boss.”
Is that what I’ve been doing? Trying to tell my heart what to do, to feel something it doesn’t, trying to change its mind? I guess I was. Trying to protect myself and Harry. It’s the only thing I can do for him, if he won’t even talk about it.
“I want to keep things simple, Mama. I just came home, it’s not?—”
Her hands land on one of my own, gripping it tight. “Time does not matter to the heart, it skips ahead and it falls behind. You have to work on its terms when things are this big .”
I swallow, dragging in air. Harry and I have always been too big. That’s why I ran in the first place. Scared of the monumental force that is Harry and Louisa.
I still am.