CHAPTER 6
ARDEN
Something has changed.
I know exactly when it happened. Before having dinner with him at Watts Ranch, I rarely saw Ford. Even then, if I did see him, it was at a distance.
Now? I see the man everywhere.
It doesn’t make any sense and it’s completely maddening. While it would be fine to see him at a distance and give a wave, since we’ve broken bread and all now, that’s not what happens. The man wants to have conversations with me.
I think he’s even been flirting with me.
I’m not sure since I haven’t had a lot of practice, but I’m quite sure.
He’s stopped in and mailed things outside of his normal schedule. Which means I couldn’t avoid him by taking my break.
I’m not sure if Ford realizes it, but the man is a creature of habit. He comes in to mail his bills on the same days every month, even though he could put them in his mailbox to be picked up. I have a feeling that his dad taught him a certain way to do things, so that’s what he does.
It makes me wonder if he’s even aware he could do it differently, or if he doesn’t change it on purpose. Maybe it’s a way to stay close to his dad.
From what I remember of Fred Conners, he was a nice man. When he died, the whole town felt it.
And then there’s the whispers of what Barbara Conners spent her time doing after Fred’s death. There aren’t a lot of flattering rumors about the woman. The same is true of Crystal.
If they spent any time here, maybe some of the rumors wouldn’t circulate. But then again, people have the right to feel a certain way when feeling snubbed. It’s no secret why she prefers the company of those who reside in Lake Tahoe.
Barbara Conners takes the idea of a vacation home to a whole new level, and I can’t say it’s a good one.
Something needs to change soon, because if we’re not careful, we’ll have an Ebeneezer Scrooge situation on our hands with a miser in a house too big for him and no humanity. He’s certainly been left alone in his farmhouse mansion for long enough as it is.
It’s not my personal responsibility to prevent this. I’m already doing my part, I would think.
I even saw him at The Pitstop yesterday. We were both picking up a to-go order from the local, and delicious diner. What are the odds that we would be there at the same time? He doesn’t have a regular Pitstop schedule that I’m aware of.
But it’s not like I watch him all the time.
That would be silly. Too silly really. Even for me.
It’s been a matter of days, and I swear the man is everywhere.
When I turn the corner of Falls Market, my feet and cart come to a screeching halt. Literally, because I always seem to grab the cart that is just a little off. Today, it’s a squeaky wheel unless I maintain a gentle pace or am at a complete stop.
Ford Conners, who doesn’t do the shopping for Sagebrush, is standing in the middle of the aisle with bread, cereal and other grains including rice. When he glances up and sees I’m the one who has stepped into the aisle, a huge smile breaks out across his face.
Run.
It whispers through me.
He’ll figure it out if you spend too much time with him.
I swallow hard and suddenly realize that maybe the opossum is onto something. Playing dead right now won’t help me, but I’m not sure it would hurt either.
“Arden,” his voice is gruff, but there’s warmth in it which makes me want to wrap my arms around the man and never let go, “how nice to see you again.”
His amber eyes light up as he takes me in and a shiver runs up and down my spine. My nipples pebble and I send a little promise out there to not talk bad about my bra again. Because I know my nipples won’t show through the padding.
It might not be fancy, but it’s doing the job I need it to do.
“Hi, Ford,” I greet him because my mom taught me manners, and snubbing him would create even more talk than just us having a small conversation. All I wanted was a loaf of bread.
Look, you can say what you want about a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but I love them. They’re comfort food for me, and I’ll never outgrow eating them.
And Ford is standing between me and my favorite bread. Yes, I’ve tested them all and if you offer me wheat bread, I will punch you. Don’t even think about rye bread in my presence, I’ll know. Not when it comes to a PB I’m not sure how long it’ll be before my knees go weak.
He steps around my cart, not caring about how he’s invading my space. I can feel the heat coming from his body. It’s delicious and makes me want to curl into him. Somehow, I manage to keep my wits about me.
“Maybe I am,” his voice is low with the hint of a growl that has me gripping my cart’s handle like my life depends on it.
Maybe it does.
Because being this close to Ford is dangerous. It feels like the memories of it could have barbs. They could sink deep and make it impossible to forget. Even when they’re just that—memories.
“You, um,” I lick my lips and look away even though his gaze stays fixed on me, “you shouldn’t.”
“Why is that, Arden?”
I don’t know.
The truth.
But far too simple.
And far too honest.
I force a laugh, but it sounds hollow. “Because it’s weird,” I throw out there even though it’s a sham.
And not a particularly good one.
One look at his face tells me he can see right through me. But I’ve come this far and I’m not backing down.
“Can I ask you a question?” I bite my lip instead of throwing out a quick comeback when I see the vulnerable look in his eyes. It’s disarming and I find myself nodding slowly. “Can I take you out on a date?”
“Me? A date?” I huff, shake my head, and come close to having a conniption in the same aisle as white rice. I don’t give him the chance to say anything and push the cart right past him. “So sorry, can’t stay and chat. I need to get my shopping done.”
I move so fast through the grocery store you would think I was trying to win something. Yeah, my dignity. I lost it in aisle four.
When I ran away from him. Again.
He was definitely flirting with me. I just don’t know what to do with it. It feels strange, like I’m trying to live a life that isn’t mine and doesn’t fit quite right.
Or the problem could be the big secret between us, the one he doesn’t even know is there.
I’m walking out of Falls Market when I feel his eyes on me again. Why does he keep watching me? It’s making me paranoid that he’s going to figure out who I am.
I’m also a little embarrassed about how I blew him off in the market. It was rude of me, and insensitive. I’m not sure what came over me and why I reacted like that. I just had to get away as quickly as possible.
By the time I make it home, I am nursing some major regrets. One of them is not getting more ice cream. It would have been smart to take one more chance in the aisles.
I would go back right now but knowing my luck I’d run into him again.
Instead, I cut my losses and carry the groceries inside. I’m finishing putting them away when Mom walks into the room.
“Oh, sweetie,” she greets me, “you didn’t need to go to the market. I was planning on going tomorrow.”
“It was my turn,” I point out even though it’s not entirely true.
We don’t really have turns and I try to do the grocery shopping more often than not. The look on my mom’s face tells me she’s hip to my crap and doesn’t believe a word I’m saying.
Here’s the thing, I’m still living with her and even though I have a full-time job, she won’t accept any rent from me.
The best I can do is go grocery shopping and pay one of the bills if I get to the mail first. It doesn’t happen often.
I swear the woman just knows when something has arrived. It’s like mail ESP or something.
She makes a sound with her mouth, almost a raspberry, definitely filled with displeasure. But there’s something else there too. Pride?
I wish she would let me help her out more. I’m not a child anymore. She raised me, and even though we didn’t have a lot of things some people had, we had more than enough. It never felt like I was missing out and it’s all because of her and how hard she works.
If only she’d let me take care of her. Just a little bit.
She’s been a nurse for decades and she’s beloved at the hospital; I know she would work herself into the ground. I’m not sure she’s entirely appreciated. But what can I do?
It’s not like I went off to school. I told mom it wasn’t what I wanted. It’s true, kind of. I would have gone to college, but there was no way to afford it. Maybe I can take some night classes here and there. I don’t know and I’m in no rush.
And at night I write my books as if they ever have a chance of being published.
“Did you get anything good?” She starts to peer through the cabinets and fridge while shooting me a look out of the side of her eye.
“I’m trying to eat better,” I remind her.
“Is that why there is so much lettuce and celery in here?” She closes the fridge and does a full body shiver which is unwarranted.
I stick my tongue out at her, and we both start to giggle. When we’ve calmed down, she leans against the counter as I get out what I need to make a PB&J.
“What are you up to tonight? Plans with Eliza, maybe?” There’s a hopeful note in her voice.
“No, she’s out living her life on the ranch,” I remind her. I can’t help but smile as I remember them at dinner. Eliza was proud, and Kendrick just wanted her to be happy. I’m happy for her.
She deserves it and with her parents turning their backs on her because she’s with him? I’ll never stand between her and what makes her happy.
“Just make sure you stay close. There are times when you need a friend, not a man. And the two of you have been like sisters since the moment you met,” her voice takes on a wistful quality as she stairs into the space between us.
“Don’t worry,” I assure her, “she’s not getting rid of me that easily. I’ll camp out on the ranch’s front yard if I have to. I have zero shame when it comes to my best friend.”
Mom smiles at me and then her eyes narrow and I brace myself. “Maybe it’s time for you to get out there,” she suggests and I’m a little shocked. “Maybe date?”
“I’m not sure who I would date around here, Mom,” I admit even though I know full well who I want too date.
The same man who asked me out today. I then effectively did a flyby, buzzed the tower, and bugged out.
I won’t be telling mom about any of that happening. No, she would tell me I should have said yes. I’m thinking I should have, now.
In the moment I panicked. What can I even say about it now? I sure as hell can’t go back and do it over.
Now I have to live with it, and I doubt Ford is going to ask me out again.
“What about you?” I tease her right back unwilling to recognize it as the deflection it is. “I don’t even know how long it’s been since you dated. Maybe it’s what you were doing when I had sleepovers at Eliza’s house?” I tease her.
Mom’s face goes pale and she straightens up. “No, I certainly was doing no such thing. I don’t really think that’s an appropriate question for you to ask, Arden.”
Her words are an admonishment, and I feel them down to my bones. She leaves the kitchen before I can begin to figure out what to say, my hand reaching for her even though she’s gone.
The sigh I let out is deep and full of something I will probably never give voice to. This is exactly why I wish she had gotten better help when she needed it. I don’t think she ever really moved on and still lives in fear.
She probably doesn’t even realize the way she’s transferred those fears to me. And her wariness toward men. And the underlying fear I’ll repeat her past as my fate.
But having a shelter or a center or something for women who need it is a dream I can’t imagine seeing realized. I wish I could. I wish it was here when mom needed it.
I hope it’s here, someday, for someone who is just trying to survive and needs a little help.
Maybe, somewhere along the way, I’ll figure out how to not be afraid of a legacy which would never be my choice to shoulder.