27. Chapter 27
My cheeks are burning, and so is my temper. I can’t believe he gave me the cold shoulder and then had the nerve to tease me.
I go to bed fuming but fall into a deep, exhausted sleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.
When the phone rings, I brace myself for round two, but when I look at caller ID, I see that it’s seven o’clock in the morning, and it’s Dad calling.
“Hi, Daddy,” I say groggily.
“Hi, Peanut.” Hearing him use the nickname he gave me when I was a little girl instantly lifts my mood. “Did I wake you?”
“No,” I say, “I should’ve been up an hour ago. I overslept again.”
“I’m getting ready to book our trip to Greece,” he begins, “I wanted to confirm with you that you’re still coming with us.”
“Yes, I’m coming with you.”
“Are you sure you’re ready?”
“I think it’ll be good for me. I want to get better, Daddy.”
“Loren, you’re not sick. It’s not about getting better. It’s about making a conscious decision to move on with your life.”
“I’m trying so hard, Dad.”
“When you say trying, how are you trying exactly? You haven’t been out with friends in years.”
I feel judged, but I don’t say anything. It’s obvious Dad has more to add, so I wait.
“Why didn’t you go out with Aaron?”
“You heard.”
“Of course I did. I heard it from your mother, Laila, Katherine, Adam, even Sam.”
“Those traitors,” I say, not realizing I’m thinking out loud.
“We love you, Peanut.” The term of endearment now sounds patronizing.
“And what does Sam have to do with this?”
“He’s been over a couple of times to see Laila,” he says, ”He was here last week, and we were talking about Greece. Did you know he’s very well-traveled?”
“No, I had no idea,” I say, making a mental note to fire him the next time I see him.
“Anyway, your name came up. He said he’s well prepared to handle the studio in your absence.”
Hmm, maybe I won’t fire him.
“You know your sister,” he continues, “She sometimes has no filter.”
“Sometimes?” I ask rhetorically.
“She told me Aaron asked you out on a date, and you turned him down. Sam looked uncomfortable, but he nodded in agreement.”
“Sam didn’t mention anything to me,” I say.
“I would imagine he’s trying to be discreet,” he says, “Not wanting to meddle in your personal life.”
After I get off the phone with Dad, I dial my sister but get her voicemail.
“Traitor!” I scream into the phone and hang up.
When I walk into the studio a couple of hours later, I walk right up to Sam and glare at him.
“Whoa!” he says, “What did I do?”
“You know what you did, you traitor.”
“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.” He looks wounded.
“I’m sorry, Sam,” I apologize. “It’s not you.”
“What is going on?” he asks.
“Oh, nothing. It’s not important,” I say. “Please forgive me”.
“No, no. It’s obviously something. Talk to me.” He looks up at the clock and, pulls out a chair for me to sit, and takes the one across from me.
“We have almost an hour, so talk,” he says.
I tell him everything. From Justin’s death to Aaron’s return to Cold Spring and last night’s heated conversation. Half an hour later, I’m crying, and he’s holding my hands in his.
“Do you want my opinion?” he asks, “Or do you just want to vent?”
Just as I’m about to tell him I would appreciate hearing his opinion, the front door swings open, and Laila walks in.
She’s wearing a white puffer jacket over a pink sweater, skinny denim jeans, and black, high-heeled boots. Her hair is pulled back in a tight ponytail. Her cheeks are rosy, and her make-up is flawless.
“I got your message,” she says, “I figured I’d come over and check on you.”
“I’ll go get us some coffee,” says Sam as he rises to his feet.
“Hi, Laila,” he says, “I’ll be right back.”
After he walks out the door, Laila looks at me, her green eyes big and expressive. “Dad filled me in on your conversation. I’m sorry you feel ganged up on.”
“Laila, I don’t know what to do.”
“Did something else happen? What have I missed?”
I fill her in on the last couple of days, telling her all about Lisa, Aaron, the trip to Boston, and my conversation with him last night.
“Lisa is starting a business,” she begins. “Aaron and Adam are investing the money required to get her started. I don’t think you have anything to worry about. She’s like twenty. No way Aaron is interested in her.”
“Maybe it would be best if he found someone else,” I say.
“He found you! Seriously, Loren. Don’t be an idiot.”
I reach for my rings but remain silent.
“You really need to put those rings away,” Laila says, “Give them to his parents.”
“I spoke to them earlier this week when I met them for dinner.”
“How are they doing?” Laila asks, “Do they know about Aaron?”
“Yes. Laura is very intuitive. She’s been telling me for weeks that she’ll understand it when I decide to move forward with my life.”
“I think you’re ready,” Laila says, “You’re just being as stubborn as a mule.”
“That’s what Aaron said to me last night, minus the mule part.”
Laila chuckles before adding, “The man knows you, and he knows what he wants. Why would you let him go?”
“I told Laura about the dreams I’ve been having,” I say, changing the subject. “I had a bad one two weeks ago and again three days ago.”
“Are they as scary as the first couple you had when I was there?”
“I’m used to them now, so I’m not as panicked when I wake up.”
“You need to pray that God helps you let go and gives you peace.”
“I’ve been praying that for years,” I say.
“Well, maybe He answered your prayers by sending you a man who understands your pain. Did you know that Aaron took his wedding band off the day he called you to ask you out?”
When I look up at Laila, she can see the utter shock on my face because she adds, “Yeah, he said he felt a release when he took it off, and he was super excited to ask you out. Sis, I think you broke his heart when you turned him down.”
“How do you know all this?” I ask her.
“He told me. I was at Katherine’s one night when he was there for dinner. He opened up to all of us.”
“I don’t know how I feel about being the topic of your conversation.”
“We love you so much, Sis,” she says, “What you’re putting yourself through is not healthy. And it’s evidenced by those nasty dreams you’re having. Four years ago, you were closer to twenty. Now, you’re closer to thirty and exactly in the same spot you were back then.”
I can’t argue with her. I sit quietly as tears begin rolling down my face.
When Sam walks in holding three cups of coffee, I wipe my face with the palms of my hands. I’m embarrassed because Laila is right. I’m older, but my emotional maturity and sense of self have been stunted by loss and heartache.
Sam smiles at me and hands me a cup.
“Here,” he says, “This will make you feel much better.”
“It’s not booze,” Laila jokes as she elbows Sam in the ribs, and they both laugh.
Something is going on there, but I don’t think Laila realizes it yet. Sam, on the other hand, has a look I recognize. My thoughts immediately go to Aaron and the way he looks at me.
When a group of six people comes in just as Laila is getting ready to leave, she turns to me and says, “I’ll stay and help. I have a couple of hours before I have to go to class.”
“We’re from out of town.” says the older woman in the group, who looks to be in her sixties. She’s accompanied by her husband, daughter, son-in-law, grandson, and son. She introduces them all by name.
“It’s nice to meet everyone,” I say before letting Sam take over so I can go collect my thoughts and splash some cold water on my face.
When I return, they’re all in full artistic mode, with paints, brushes, and conversation going strong.
I start boxing up some finished pieces at an empty table on the other side of the room while Laila and Sam load the kilns in the back. I wrap each piece with gift-wrap tissue paper before carefully placing them in a box or a bag.
I start sensing that someone is looking at me. When I glance up, I catch the younger man in the group looking at me. Before I can look away, he smiles at me, leaves the table, and starts heading in my direction.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi. Philip, right?” I ask.
“You remembered,” he says, ”I was wondering if there are any good restaurants in town you can recommend. We’ll be here for a few more nights, and I’d like to take my family to a good restaurant tonight.”
I make a couple of suggestions. All the while, his gaze remains intently on me.
“Your eyes are so green,” he says.
“They run in the family,” I say, smiling before I glance away.
“Listen,” he begins, “I would love to take you to dinner tomorrow night.”
I reach for my rings, but I’m wearing a turtleneck sweater, so they’re safely tucked away underneath the soft fabric.
I take a deep breath before speaking. “I don’t date,” I say.
“You don’t date? You mean you’re married, engaged, taken?” he asks, smiling at me.
He’s handsome. Probably six feet tall, with dark brown hair, a little on the long side. He has dark blue eyes that exude kindness.
“No,” I say. “I’m none of those things. I just don’t go out on dates.”
“Can you make an exception? I’ll only be in town a couple of more days.”
“Where are you from?” I ask, trying to change the subject.
“We’re from Oregon. We’re here visiting my dad’s brother and family. They usually visit us, but we wanted to change it up a bit, so we came here instead.”
“I see,” I say.
“God, your eyes are beautiful. I can’t stop looking at you. I’m sorry if I’m staring.”
I smile and look down because I don’t know where to look. The bowl in my hand is painted a pretty dark olive green and has Love Is Evergreen written in block letters.
When I don’t look up at Philip, he looks down to see what I’m looking at.
“Love is evergreen,” he says, “I wonder what that means.”
“I think it means that love is timeless,” I say, “It never runs out. It’s always relevant.”
“Then why not say that?”
“I think I remember the couple that made it,” I say, “They painted two pieces. I think they were matching. The other one is here somewhere.”
I look through the different pieces on the table and find the one I’m looking for. It’s a large mug. I turn it around so we can see the writing on it. It reads Love Is Everlasting.
“Hmm, that’s cool,” he says, “I’m going back to the table to finish painting my piece, but please think about it. I would love to take you out.”
I hear the phone ring and run to pick it up. A customer was here earlier this week and wants to speak with Sam.
“Sam, the call is for you,” I say, holding the phone at the end of the hallway.
When he doesn’t emerge from the back room, I walk back there and hand him the phone.
“It’s someone named Mary,” I say, “She was here on Wednesday. She’s asking about her project.”
“Yes,” he says, “She asked me to freestyle some calligraphy on her grandma’s plate.” Taking the phone, he walks back to the front of the studio. I can see him looking through the pieces that I’m boxing up.
While he takes care of the caller, I help Laila load the last kiln. She looks up at me and, raising an eyebrow, she asks me about Philip. “Are you going out with him?”
“No, I am not.”
“Good, ‘cause you’re taken.”
I’m sure she’s referring to Aaron, but I’m thinking about Justin.
We also empty some boxes full of supplies and organize everything on the shelves. When I finally return to the front of the studio, I find that Phillip and his family have already left.
After Laila leaves in the afternoon, Sam and I put the freshly painted pieces on the drying shelves. I pick up a dish that reads, Love Is Unexpected. The name on the back reads Philip, and it has a phone number under it.
“He left me his phone number,” I say out loud.
“Are you going to call him?” Sam asks.
“No,” I say.
“Earlier, you asked me for my opinion,” he says, “Do you want to hear it?”
I nod.
“You need to throw caution to the wind and allow yourself to feel again.”
“All I do is feel,” I say. “I feel sad, angry, lonely, lost, guilty.” I stop, fighting the urge to cry.
“That’s a lot,” he says, ”And those feelings are all related to Justin’s death, I assume.”
“Yes. He was my life.”
“Let me ask you this,” he begins, “What do you feel when you think of Aaron?”
The question takes me by surprise, but the word forms on my lips immediately, and it takes my breath away.
“Happy,” I hear myself say.
We sit in silence for a few moments, letting the word hang in the air and permeate in my heart.