28. Daphne
Daphne
This week, Thursday dinner is at our friends’ house in Montpelier. Sophie and Jude like to host every few months, and the Shipley clan always caravans over there to make it happen.
But Rickie begs off and stays home.
There’s something up with him. I can tell. But I can’t seem to get him alone for a minute to ask. Whenever I walk into a room, he walks out of it.
He’s basically playing the same game I was a month ago. I avoided him like the black plague for the month of June, even when he smiled at me. Especially then.
I’m trying hard not to take it personally. My gut says that he isn’t suddenly tired of me—that there’s something else going on. Those dark smudges under his eyes are new, along with the weary look on his face.
But it’s so easy for all my old insecurities to sneak up on me. My heart is like our old Kubota tractor that’s always in need of repair. You replace one part on it, and something else immediately breaks.
And the fact remains that no man I’ve ever had feelings for has returned them with the same fervor. Never. And I’m starting to wonder if one ever will.
It doesn’t keep me from hoping. I follow Rickie with my eyes wherever he goes. On Friday afternoon I walk past the cider house where he and Dylan are supposed to be scrubbing out barrels in preparation for the first press next month.
And they’re arguing. So—like anyone with three siblings has learned to do—I stand beside the open door like a creeper and eavesdrop.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Dylan is saying.
Oh no . Could this be about me?
“I wanted to,” Rickie says in a low voice. “I can do as I please.”
My face heats. Please don’t let this be about me .
“It’s too much,” Dylan says. “I don’t like owing anybody.”
Rickie makes an irritated sound. “That wasn’t why I did it. You don’t owe me anything. We’ve been over this.”
“I could have waited, you know. I’m patient.”
“Yeah, but now you can be choosy about your timing. I didn’t need the money. Money is, like, the only thing I don’t have to worry about right now.”
My heart gives a little sympathetic squeeze. What is Rickie so worried about?
“Dylan—” my other brother’s voice cuts in. “Just say thank you already. This is not that complicated.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dylan mutters. “Okay, thank you. It’s gonna make me look like a bigger stud than I already am.”
Rickie laughs, and the sound of it gives me a fluttery feeling in my chest. “There, was that so hard? You’re welcome, punk.”
I’m just about to walk away when I hear Dylan say my name. “Hey—Chass asked Daphne about her housing situation this fall. And she sounds like she might actually consider moving in with us.”
“Oh,” Rickie says slowly. “That’s cool. That will make it so much more convenient when we’re dating.”
My eyes bug out.
“Come again?” Griffin grumbles. But Dylan laughs.
I trot away from that door as fast as I can. Everything about Rickie confuses me.
Everything.
* * *
On Friday night, it’s hot again, and really sticky, too.
We’re all a little beaten down by the unrelenting heat and the humidity.
Mom puts a window fan in the dining room so we can get through dinner without melting.
She serves Caesar salads with fresh bread and grilled chicken that Grandpa tends on the Webber outside.
Rickie sits at the opposite end of the table. Again. But even so, I keep catching him staring at me when he thinks I’m not looking. And the expression on his face is soft, too. There’s a fondness there that’s hard to hide.
But he’s staying away from me, and I don’t understand why.
“Let’s go to the swimming hole after dinner,” Dylan says. “Griff and Audrey have been hanging out there with Gus. Griff told me he even mowed the grass.”
“Where is this place?” Rickie asks.
“Down the road, just a mile and a half. We can bike it or drive.”
“Sounds fun,” Rickie says. Then his eyes flicker toward me again before he looks away.
And I ask myself an important question. What would Violet do?
It only takes me a minute to think of the answer. Wear a tiny bikini.
Duh.
* * *
Two hours later I’m sitting on my towel, which is spread on the grass at the edge of the swimming hole. This place is about the size of a modest backyard pool, filled by moving water and surrounded by rocks. It’s fed by a creek that drops the water down a two-foot waterfall.
My brothers are geniuses, I guess, because I feel so much better now that I’ve dunked myself into the water. And now we’re eating ice cream cones that Audrey and Griffin brought us.
“Why haven’t we come here every night?” Rickie asks, licking his cone. He looks cheerier than he’s looked in days.
“We never used to come here,” Dylan admits from the pool itself, where he’s standing with Chastity. “Why is that?”
“Because Chasternak was a jerk about it way back when he owned the land,” Griffin says. He’s holding onto my nephew, while Audrey shares a cone with the little guy. “There were No Trespassing signs posted on every tree. The one time I brought friends here, he called Dad and made a stink about it.”
“But it’s ours now,” Dylan says. “Another perk of buying the Abrahams’ land.”
“You and Daphne had a baby pool,” Griffin continues. “I don’t know if you remember, but May and I used to have to watch you in it so you two didn’t try to drown each other. It was like a full-time sibling rivalry cage match with you two.”
“Dude,” Dylan says. “It’s funny, but now that you mention it, I still feel an urge to push her underwater.”
“Try it and die,” I say as a reflex.
Rickie laughs. He’s sitting on a blanket on the grass beside me. And I’ve been doing my best not to stare at his shirtless, dripping wet body. Now he says, “I’ve got twenty bucks on Daphne in this fight.”
“Maybe we'll stop at one child,” Audrey says.
Griffin only grins. “Thank you for the ice cream, baby. Shall we go home?”
“We should. This one is up past his bedtime.”
Gus gives her a wary look and pouts.
They say their good nights and make their way through the trees toward the dirt road, while Rickie helps Audrey carry her cooler back to the car, and Griffin carries his cranky son.
Meanwhile, my brother pulls Chastity back into the water and starts kissing her while she laughs. Then she stops laughing and wraps her body around him.
“Check, please,” Dylan says. “We should head back. It’s getting late.”
I roll my eyes. It’s not even nine o’clock. The sky is still bright in the west.
“Go on,” Rickie says. “You know you want to.”
Dylan climbs out of the water. “Should I leave you the bikes or the pickup?”
“The truck,” I say quickly. I felt like a doofus riding my bike here in a bikini. But it was worth it. Rickie has been as broody as ever tonight. But his eyes keep finding their way over here nonetheless.
And now we’re going to be here all alone.
“Keys are in the ignition,” Dylan says, climbing out and wrapping a towel around his waist.
“Sleep tight,” Rickie snickers.
Chastity’s face is pink as she says goodbye. And then the two of them are gone. I hear bike tires on the gravel a minute later.
And that’s it. Rickie and I are the only people left. He is stoically licking his ice cream cone. And the silence thickens around us. This is just the sort of moment when Rickie usually hits on me.
But, nope. Silence.
“What are you thinking about?” I finally ask.
“I’d rather hear your thoughts,” he says.
“But I asked you first.”
He smiles slightly. “Fine. But it isn’t all that exciting. I was thinking about how three years ago, almost exactly, I went with some people to the chutes in Thetford. You’ve been?”
“Of course.”
“Well, I hadn’t before. It was a hot summer day, and we spent it jumping into the river and basically getting into trouble. And I remember it with perfect clarity.”
“Were you there with Carla?” I blurt out. I’ve never forgotten that they dated. Carla is my polar opposite—easy and fun.
Rickie blinks. “Yeah. How do you know?”
“You mentioned her the first time we met. That’s the person we knew in common. She gave me your email address.”
“Oh, right.” He glowers.
“So what happened at the chutes?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why do you look so angry right now?”
“Because I remember the deli sandwich I ate for lunch. And I remember we were teasing one guy about his tight bathing suit. It's so goddamn strange that I remember everything that happened up until the minute I left for college.”
“Oh.” I swallow. “But not after.”
“But not after,” he repeats. “It drives me straight up a tree.”
Okay. So Rickie's in a dark mood. I’ve been there.
After a beat, he moves over, bridging the distance between us. He puts a palm on my knee, and it’s cool from swimming. “Your turn,” he says. “What are you thinking about?” He takes a bite of his ice cream cone.
If I told the truth, he’d probably drop the ice cream in surprise. Well, I was actually thinking about your dick and how I hope to see more of it . “Just wondering where you went inside that head of yours.” That’s as much truth as I feel able to deliver.
His expression softens. “I’ve been neglecting you, haven’t I?”
“What? No. That's silly.”
“Is it?” His smile turns sly. Then he tosses the last bit of his ice cream cone over his shoulder, without even looking to see where it lands. “Come here, Shipley.” His voice is gravel.
I shiver. “Why?”
“Because I need a closer look at this bathing suit you’re rocking.”
“You really don’t,” I argue, even if I’ve been hoping for this moment for the last hour.
“Oh I disagree.” He moves closer, sitting next to me on my towel, his strong legs hanging off the rock, feet in the water. His fuzzy knee brushes against my smoother one, and I can’t help but want more.
I won’t ask for it. A smarter girl wouldn’t be at war with herself like this. And I don’t mean to be coy. But I can’t help feeling like Rickie is more than I can handle. I’m no Carla. Any minute now he’s going to realize that I’m not half as sexy and desirable as he thought.