Chapter 34
Venus
“I need more dresses,” I tell Ivy when she answers my call. “Will you take me shopping again?”
“Girl, you know me. I’m always down for shopping,” she answers, her voice giddy. “I’m off shift soon. I’ll run home, change, check on Buster, and pick you up.”
“Thank you,” I sigh, shuffling into the fairy house. I race to complete the outdoor chores before Ivy arrives. I water my salvaged plants, glad to find them still thriving in their new home. I check the mini-bogs and additional garden beds in the greenhouse—all is well.
But when I traverse the acre-sized public garden, I discover two alarming problems. On the west end, a breakout of black spot, a disease that looks as it sounds, is spreading across the wilting leaves of a large patch of flytraps.
To the east perimeter, the flytraps and pitcher plants are being ravaged by aphids, tiny, pesky little pests that twist and deform the leaves.
I groan and stamp my feet at the annoying discoveries, upsetting an elderly couple taking a quiet stroll nearby.
An urgent search through Dad’s shed produces Physan, the fungicide needed to control black spot.
I mix it with water and return to that section for a liberal spraying.
Dad is out of Orthene, which I need for the aphids.
I make a mental note to stop by the same garden supply business that had the correct peat moss in the hopes that they will also carry the wettable powders best for flytraps.
Back inside the house, my shoulders slump as I change and wait for Ivy to arrive.
It’s only been ten days since Dad left the gardens in my care, and I’ve failed my charge. Between this and my first week of lackluster teaching, he’s bound to be doubly disappointed. It’s as if problems follow me—or I create them—wherever I go.
“It’s completely illogical to think that the aphids saw that there was a new girl in town and decided, here’s our chance, boys.
Let’s attack,” Ivy says, her manicured fingers twisting on the steering wheel as she drives us to the boutique.
“You are not the problem, Venus. Nature is. Life is. That’s the way things go. ”
I snort-laugh at her voice-acting aphids. “You’re right. It’s illogical. But I still feel bad.”
“Don’t feel bad. You’ll teach those aphids not to mess with you, and you’ll eradicate that black spot in no time. I’m more interested in why you need more dresses.”
I turn to the passenger window, trying to hide the smile that creeps up my cheeks over memories of today. I’m still in shock over it, like perhaps I was high off marker fumes and hallucinated it—Henry’s help, Henry’s words, Henry’s hands, Henry’s tongue. An orgasm, just for me.
“I, um, just don’t want to do laundry every five seconds,” I say, “and you were right. My wardrobe needs help.”
“Hmm, does this wardrobe revamp have to do with Henry?”
“Well, maybe Henry likes me in dresses, but so do I. They have their… conveniences.”
Ivy pulls into a parking space in front of the store with a squeal of the tires and twists in her seat. “What conveniences, exactly?”
“Henry and I are spending the summer together,” I redirect. “He wants a second chance, and he hopes I’ll stay at the end of it.”
“HENRY SAID THAT?” she yells.
“Yes.”
Ivy bangs her hands against the steering wheel, but when that doesn’t do enough for her excitement, she jumps out of the car and dances in the empty space beside her. She wiggles her hips and turns in a circle. Another snort-laugh bellows from me.
She waves me toward her. “Get over here, sister!”
I obey, deciding that it must be true—excitement is contagious. But maybe this is what sisters do—normal sister things. Sisters dance in parking lots.
She takes my hand and twirls me around, which is awkward because I’m taller than she is. Then, she tugs me to her for a weird dip that sends my hair flying backward to the concrete. Laughing, she pulls me up into a warm embrace.
“I love that,” she whispers, holding on to me. “I love Henry for you. Do you think being with Henry for the summer will convince you to stay permanently?”
“I don’t know,” I say, honestly.
“Do you want to?”
“I want to… enjoy the summer,” I answer cautiously.
Her head tilts, and her hands rest on her hips. “What are you so worried about? What’s wrong with falling in love and living happily ever after?”
“Happily ever after doesn’t exist for me. I hurt people, Ivy. I nearly killed Henry once. Remember?”
Her features soften. “It was an accident. Don’t you know that?”
“An accident that I caused. I turned a sweet moment into a near-tragedy. I wasn’t thinking.”
“No one’s really thinking at eighteen, but I understand how traumatic that was.
You still don’t trust yourself, but that was ages ago, and it wasn’t your fault,” she says gently.
“It’s normal to feel scared. Love is scary.
Especially at the beginning, with the nerves and uncertainty.
Those feelings will settle, though, and then it turns into the most amazing thing ever. ”
“It looks amazing on you,” I admit, and she beams. “But it’s an overwhelming prospect. I feel safer traipsing through jungles and hanging off the sides of mountains because, there, I can’t hurt anyone else but me.”
“I hate that you feel that way,” she says, dragging her hand down my arm. “Because it hurts more when you’re away from us.”
“Thank you. It, um, it hurts me, too. I’ve missed you and Dad more than I expected. I’ll take your advice under consideration.”
“Excellent. That’s a smart move.” She loops her arm in mine, pulling me to the storefront. “For now, though, let’s shop!”
I end up with six additional outfits plus accessories, including something Ivy says will be perfect for “date night.” We stop by the nursery to pick up the pesticide.
I avoid the plant clearance section, keeping my head down as I pay and return to Ivy in the car.
Then, she takes me to an Asian fusion restaurant for dinner.
It’s tucked into the corner of a strip mall, but its facade is lined with gorgeous palms, Japanese myrtles, and bamboo plants, inviting us inside.
We’re seated in a side room with bright, spring green walls covered in gold-framed art, primarily portraits, some nude, and I can’t stop staring at them.
“How is Gil? How’s coupling going?” I say, piecing the questions together awkwardly.
She snickers at my attempt. “I’m so glad you asked. I want us to move in together. Rephrase—I want him to move in with me. My place is spacious, close to the hospital, and Buster has his backyard to play in. There’s an extra office for Gil to set up all his monitors and desk toys—it’s perfect.”
“Have you asked him?”
Her shoulders sag. “Two things are holding me back. First, he’s so close with his family.
Like super-close. Game nights, dinners, soccer matches.
Tripp Family Farm might as well be their compound for how often they’re all together there.
Gil still lives in his parents’ basement, and I doubt that’ll change without a damn good reason.
That kind of closeness is beautiful but not what we’re used to. ”
“Yes, but it’s what we aspire to in some ways, I think. The closeness, not the dependency.”
She nods. “Yes, good point. I believe Gil prefers Seagrove, and, honestly, I don’t. It’s too small, too quiet, and the only good shopping is at a quaint convenience store called the G&G. I need a decent mall, Vee.”
“Given his nervousness in meeting Dad, and his inability to keep his hands or eyes off you at dinner, I believe he’d relocate.”
She beams across the table. “Really? He couldn’t keep his eyes off me?”
“It was sickening.”
She giggles.
“What else holds you back?”
“His anxiety,” she says. “Not that he has it, but that he won’t tell me.
I’m trying to be patient. But he posts activities with his family that make me anxious, like helping his brother, Grady, do medical procedures on cows and hanging out with gators at the G&G, but I can’t get him to come to dinner on a whim or do something relaxing like paddleboarding.
His anxiety seems to be keeping him from me and pushing him toward his family.
So, if he can’t trust me to help him with small challenges, then why should I expect him to trust me enough to live together? ”
“May I make a suggestion?”
“Please,” she gawks, sipping her wine.
“Plan a weekend away. Present the idea in a way no boyfriend could refuse. If he says no, then he will have to explain why, which may lead to him opening up about his anxiety. Likely, though, he’ll say yes to make you happy, no matter how uncomfortable it makes him.
If his symptoms arise, it’ll force him to come clean, inevitably bringing you closer.
Regardless, the forced proximity will allow you to explain your hope of moving in together.
Time away will also test your compatibility and the strength of your partnership.
If it’s meant to be, it’ll be a great weekend.
If it’s not, then you’ll know. It’s a win-win-win. ”
Her open-mouthed stare indicates surprise. “Venus! You’re a genius!”
“Yes, I know.”
“No, I mean… yes, but, ugh! That’s the perfect idea!”
Our food arrives, interrupting her gushing. Once our meals are set and our wine refilled, she smiles across the table.
“I can’t believe how much you’ve changed since high school,” she says.
“I’m no longer a perpetual outcast full of teenage angst.”
She chuckles. “No, I know. It’s just… I wish we could’ve talked more then. I’m sorry if I made that hard on you. I know my friends weren’t always nice to you.”
I take a breath and wipe my mouth. “It’s not your fault. I wasn’t always nice, either. But I appreciate your apology and accept it on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“That Buster stays with me while you’re away.”
She laughs, pointing her fork at me. “I told you not to fall in love with him.”
“It’s not love. It’s mild admiration.”
“Okay, deal,” she says, looking skeptical but satisfied.