Chapter 24
ABIGAIL
Today was an epic day in all aspects of the word.
First, I made an incredible stuffed French toast with fresh strawberries and crème fra?che. Seneca strained using the manual orange juice press, insisting that an automatic version be on my must-have list. If I were going to be an innkeeper, that gizmo would save me a ton of time.
After we satisfied our palettes, we cleaned up and headed to the detached garage to find some garden gear. Sunshine painted the sky blue, and the air smelled of dew. Anything life threw me seemed possible and my date with Elias was a dream come true. The beauty of the morning was soon destroyed as rancid smells poured out of the garage door, making my skin crawl and Seneca almost puke up her breakfast.
”Dis-gus-ting!” She screamed. ”What the fuck died in here? Open the side door, and let”s get some air flowing. I”m not staying in here for one more minute.” She busted through the doorframe and kept walking toward the gardens. Like a puppy, I followed in tow. I”m not sure why I haven”t been in this very obvious building since I moved in, except I hadn”t needed to look there for anything. Elias didn”t bring it to my attention, leaving me wondering if he had never wandered in. Maybe I need to start thinking more for myself.
The next epic moment clocked me upside the head when Seneca began identifying various flora.
”Those are annuals and will come up every year, so don”t tear those out. These things that look like grass are, in fact, grass—ornamental grass. We can cut them down, split them, and let them be.”
”Yes, ma”am. When did you learn about plants? You never mentioned this to me.” How could I not know about my best friend”s talent for gardening?
She walked further into the growth, stringing leaves and twigs through her fingers, stopping only to smell them.
”My mom insisted I knew where food came from when I was young. You may recall her being part American Indian. ”We come from Mother Earth. Everything we need, she provides.” I”ll never forget that. She tore out some bushes that spring, and together we planted a small garden with cucumbers, green beans, tomatoes, and sunflowers.” She paused, staring into space.
”We bought plants the first year, and after that, we harvested the seeds for the following year. She said this was the time of year we started our seedlings. Dad hated that we made a mess of his table, but he stayed out of our way.” She sighed and continued walking.
”Sen, what happened with your mom? One day, she dropped you off at school, and the next, she was gone. You didn”t stop crying for a week. Your dad said you could stay at my house for as long as you wanted, but I thought he went crazy. Even crazier—my aunt agreed to it.”
Somewhere in the thick of these gardens, we found a wrought iron bench and sat down, pulling our knees to our chins. It”s been ten years since her mom passed, and I hoped Seneca would finally unload her whole story.
She sat opposite me, deep in thought, fighting back tears.
”You”re my best friend, Abs, so it hurts me that I never gave you the whole story. It”s water under the bridge now we”re adults, but you deserved to know.” Another minute clicked by before she spoke again. ”The truth was that my mother contracted pancreatic cancer, and my father refused to support her wishes to do nothing. Two days after she told us, she was gone, traveling the world as fast as she could before she died. I still don”t understand how she could leave me—us—behind.”
”Are you kidding me? Who does that? I don”t know much about cancer, but you”d think spending every moment with your daughter would override any thoughts of seeing the world alone.” I was shocked.
She sighed deeply. Hmm. ”You”d think. All I have left are postcards from Italy, Greece, Egypt, France, and London. Each note was scribbled with, ”Wish you were here! Love you.” Do you have any idea how fucking hollow those notes were? She didn”t want me there with her. She didn”t love me,” she screamed, reliving the trauma. ”It took years of therapy for me to be able to understand those messages. ”Wish you were here”—so I could share these moments with you. ”Love you”—I couldn”t put you and your father through the pain of watching me suffer.”
”In the end, I chose to believe the therapist. Cancer does shit to people, and I decided to remember her with love and courage.”
”As I recall, you were attending her graveside service less than three months later.” I reached for Seneca”s hand, offering what little support I could.
Huh! ”The ironic part was that she was back five days before she passed, and we had to take care of her anyway. Thank goodness for morphine. We kept her sedated until her heart gave out.”
My girl suffered for years after her mom”s passing. I was content to know she found her peace. It was time for something happy.
I jumped up and took her hand. ”Let”s put those gardening skills to work. We”ll remember your mom”s best gifts.”
For the rest of the afternoon, we worked together to hack down anything that wasn”t a viable plant. For now, we made a compost pile at the side of the garage for convenience and emptied the worst of what was left there. Calling it a day, it was time to revisit the Garage of Death now aptly named.
”What do you want to do with all the dead animal carcasses?” Seneca was kidding, right?
”Make soup?” Even to me, the thought gave me the willies.
”Wrong! Don”t ever say that to me again. There are only a few mice; seriously, Abigail, you”re sick.”
I had mouse traps all over the house, so why not also put a few out here?
I directed her to the cabinet under the kitchen sink to find more traps while I found a few things to start our seedling project. I noticed some bags of fertilizer and a few puddles on the concrete. This place needed waterproofing. I closed up the side door and walked to the lift-up door, making a note in my head to add these chores to Elias”s To-Do List. I wondered if I could get Elias to build me a potting bench in his free time? Ha. Free time. I”m his free time.
SENECA
I”m not one to have visions, but I stopped short on the way to the house as I passed a budding rosebush. My mom”s favorite flower was the rose. It wasn”t lost on me that she was around in the wind. The sudden urge to build something magical here filled my heart and cleared my head. I would create something incredible, memorable, and meaningful in honor of her that I could look at forever. I could help Abby grow vegetables for her cooking and maybe even a garden where the community could work and reap the fruit of their labors. Whoa. That was quite a download of information.
Although I don”t know what my friend would think, the idea was sound. She had her hands full already and didn”t specify how long she wanted me to hang around. This idea needed careful delivery and timing. Since she mentioned Elias was coming to take her on a date tonight, I’d use that time to draw up a plan. Abby loved a good plan; I”d give her one in three phases.
ELIAS
I didn”t plan a trip to Mystic this week. Honestly, I wasn”t going to see Abigail for several weeks. I needed to flush this girl out of my system or die trying. I used every moment since I got home to scrutinize my life, what I wanted, and what needed to go. I started with old clothes. Not typically a dude thing, but, in the event I chose to pursue a relationship with Abi. . . someone . . . I wanted to look put together. Goodbye, ratty T-shirts, torn jeans, frayed button-downs, and those absurd silky shorts I used to play basketball in.
That took all of an hour, now onto the garage. Every project I started wasn”t finished. It wasn”t about money or time; it was more about inspiration. Several of these projects were inspired by Oria, the ex-girlfriend who treated me like dirt. Her name may have meant shiny or golden, but her heart was black as coal. While I appeared to look confident outwardly, she found every chink in my armor and lauded her superiority over me. She didn”t mind my big dick, though. Oria found plenty of opportunities to ”make it up to me,” and I saw plenty of kinky ways to show her I wasn”t a pussy but held back, afraid she’d use that information against me. After six months of learning about each other and talks of a future emerged, I noticed how little she gave to our relationship. Her hurtful ways and inability to be sincere took their toll on me, and, a few months later, I showed her the door. Patience should never be used as a weapon in a relationship. I gave her many opportunities to show me her commitment, and—each time—she let me down. I learned I was too patient in this regard.
I yanked apart those three projects I”d begun and made a scrap pile for future projects. The remaining piece was small in size but big in personality. I have an abundance of cutlery I”ve collected over the years for reasons I cannot disclose. Let”s say that my college now has a new flatware pattern since they have been divested of the old style. This project inspired my childlike desire to build things from my mother”s cutlery drawer. Spoons bent to look like legs and ears. A short fork for a tail and lots of wire wrapped to look like a body became my indestructible friend. It needed embellishments and polishing to make it look professional, yet it made me happy and calm. This was where I wanted to spend my time. Abigail”s estate was the perfect place to realize that dream if we could work it out.
All the fight and anguish were out of me within forty-eight hours. Whatever ideas I had about waiting months to reconnect with her were out the window when she suggested phone sex and definitely when she put on that purple dress and sexy silver heels. My alter he-man ego took flight, and I blanked out when she agreed to call me daddy. I”m not a pervert; I”m a protector. It”s a way for me and my trusted partner to build an even stronger connection than the norm. I wanted that so badly for me and Abigail. If she wanted a protector, she”d have it. If her biological father was too much of an asshole not to stay with his precious child, then fuck him. I”d shield her from the world.
Committed to making our relationship work, I pulled some clothes together and called Paul.
”Hey, buddy. We”re slow now, so I”m heading down to see Abigail. Can you handle things for me? Call if you get a rush.”
”Sure, boss. Have fun, but not too much fun if you—forget it. Talk to you soon. Don”t forget to tell her what you”ve been thinking about. She needs to know.”
I hung up mid-sentence. It”s none of his business, except it is. If Abigail agrees to this plan, Paul will be more than an assistant manager to me.
Why was it that traffic was the slowest when you were in a hurry? My plans didn”t include an overturned oil tanker and a ten-mile backup. It was time for a detour. The county road had already begun to fill up with like-minded travelers, so I rerouted through southern PA, over to Newark, and out the other side without adding more than twenty minutes to my drive. Hallelujah!
Beginning our dating life was nerve-wracking. I decided to start simple, like knocking on her front door.
”Wow! You are a giant. You weren”t kidding, Abs!” the woman, whom I presumed was Seneca, hollered over her shoulder. ”You must be Elias. Please come in.” She waved her arm open for me to come in; her feigned sophistication was amusing.
”You must be Seneca, the long-lost best friend.” I waggled my brows, shoving a hand in her direction.
”Precisely. Because I wasn”t here when you two met, let me bring you up to speed. I know everything. I see everything and feel her pain, so tread carefully, my friend, because I”m watching you.” She made a V out of her two fingers and pointed them at my face, then back at hers. I got the gist.
I ran a hand through my hair and fought hard not to laugh at her melodrama, ”You are indeed the best friend. It never is, was, or will be my intention to hurt Abigail. You know her. She”s unpredictable, impulsive, hilarious, and delightful. It”s hard to be mad at her whether she deserves it or not.”
”Damn, Elias! You know my girl.” She lunged at me, throwing her arms around my waist. ”I”m happy you took the time to figure her out. She”s awesome, if not nuts.”
My heart swelled, and I felt I had accomplished something in our short introduction. Gaining Seneca”s approval was a big win for me.
A ruffle of purple arrived unannounced at the top of the stairs, and my sweet girl drifted down them one by one. Each step showcased a lithe, toned leg adorned with nothing but a shimmery shoe. I caught a glimpse of what she wore under that dress as she descended, and, if my eyes didn”t deceive me, I”d swear she was bare. My dick jerked in my pants, and my chest felt tight.
She stared at me in my blue blazer and white, pressed shirt. I wanted to impress her and even pulled out a silver silk tie from my days as an engineer. Without overdoing my outfit, I pulled out my best dark blue jeans and polished brandy-colored lace-up boots. I know how to put myself together; I just don”t like all the work involved. But, for Abigail? I”d put in the work.
When she reached the bottom step, I stepped forward and handed her the small bunch of flowers I had picked up in the village on my way in. Abigail was something out of a fairy tale, and I needed a minute to let this moment imprint on my brain.
”You look amazing, Elias.” She touched my lapel, dragging her finger down its length. ”You didn”t have to bring me flowers . . .but I”m glad you did.”
She smelled like vanilla and peaches, and made my mouth water. The dress was more spectacular in person, and I loved how it dipped into a low V below her pert breasts. My mind whirred like a finely-tuned engine when she leaned in for a kiss. It was soft and full of promise, and it took all my concentration not to pass out. It took a lot for a man my size to be knocked me down, yet this woman had only to look at me with those sultry, hazel eyes and pouty lips. Fuck! I was in deep.
”You smell like dessert. Can we skip dinner?” Idiot! Keep to the plan. Woo her, dumbass.
She grimaced. ”No chance, Big Guy. I”m starving, and I need to show off my guy.” She was good.
”You”re on. I made a reservation down by the river. Let”s get going.”
As expected, when asked about her day, Abigail lit up like a firecracker, filling every moment of our drive with her garage escapades and grueling gardening endeavors. Tonight was about exploring her needs and wants. Before this night was over, I expected to clearly understand her life”s trajectory and how I was to be a part of it. Too many expectations? We”ll see.