Chapter 50
Dave had been holding the same socket wrench for so long that Hank finally reached over and took it from him.
“You planning to use this anytime soon, or are you trying to warm it up?”
Dave looked at his empty hand. “I was thinking.”
“That explains why nothing’s getting fixed.” Hank dropped the wrench onto the workbench and crouched beside the old lawn tractor taking up most of the garage.
It was almost eight o’clock, but the Montana evening was still light. The garage door stood open, letting in the scent of freshly cut grass, and somewhere beyond the house a sprinkler moved steadily across Hank and Rosa’s lawn.
Rosa had gone to a planning meeting for Sapphire Bay’s summer festival. Before leaving, she’d apparently issued strict instructions that the two men weren’t to demolish anything, set anything on fire, or decide that tonight would be a good time to rewire the garage.
Dave had come over because Hank needed help replacing the drive belt on the tractor. At least, that was the reason he’d given himself. The truth was, his own house had been too quiet lately.
Hank slid under the tractor and held out his hand. “Pass me the half-inch socket.”
Dave found it and placed it in his palm.
Hank glanced up at him. “You’ve hardly said a word since you got here.”
“I’ve been quiet before.”
“Not like this.”
Dave leaned back against the workbench. For the last three days, he’d gone to work, answered questions, reviewed schedules, and sorted out a problem with a shipment of exterior siding at Finley Point. As far as anyone there knew, nothing had changed.
Hank slid out from beneath the tractor and sat up. “What’s happened?”
Dave stared through the open garage door. A pickup moved slowly along the road, its tires humming against the pavement. There wasn’t much point avoiding the question. “Beth ended things.”
Hank’s expression changed immediately. The joke that had been hovering around his mouth disappeared. “When?”
“Sunday. The day after the wedding.”
Hank pushed himself to his feet and brushed his hands against his jeans. “I think this calls for a beer.”
“I thought we were fixing the tractor.”
“We’ve been fixing it for an hour, and you’ve contributed one socket.”
“Two.”
Hank considered that. “In that case, you’ve definitely earned a beer.”
He opened the old refrigerator in the corner of the garage, took out two bottles, and passed one across before unfolding a couple of battered chairs.
Dave sat and twisted off the cap. For a while, Hank didn’t ask any more questions, and Dave appreciated that. He took a drink and watched the sprinkler send another arc of water across the lawn. The steady hiss filled the silence between them.
Eventually, Hank rested his bottle against his knee. “Did you see it coming?”
“Not even a little.” That was the part Dave still couldn’t quite get his head around.
The night of Kayla’s wedding, Beth had told him she’d missed him even though they’d spent most of the day in the same place.
Later, beside the lake, she’d kissed him as if being together was the easiest decision she’d made all day.
By Sunday afternoon, she was telling him they couldn’t see each other anymore. “She called and asked me to come over,” Dave said. “I knew something was wrong as soon as I heard her voice.”
Hank waited before asking, “Did she tell you what changed?”
“Rosalind, her sister-in-law, said something about not being able to love another man if Peter, her husband, died. She said she’d feel as though she was betraying him.”
Hank frowned. “She said that to Beth?”
“She wasn’t trying to hurt her. Beth made that clear.”
“Intentions don’t always help much after the words are out.”
“No.” Dave turned the bottle between his hands. “Beth started questioning what it meant that she had feelings for me. Whether it was somehow disloyal to Jessie.”
“And what did you tell her?”
“That I still love Carol.”
Hank’s gaze sharpened.
Dave stared down at the label on his beer. “I told her remembering Carol doesn’t stop me caring about her. One doesn’t cancel out the other.”
“How did Beth take that?”
“Not well enough to change her mind.”
Hank gave a slow nod.
There had been a moment in Beth’s living room when Dave had wanted to argue with her. He’d wanted to tell her Rosalind’s marriage wasn’t hers, that nobody else got to decide what loving Jessie should look like now.
He’d wanted to keep talking until Beth believed him. Instead, he’d left. Because that was what she’d asked him to do.
Dave took another drink. “She told me she loves me.”
Hank stopped with his bottle halfway to his mouth. “She did?”
“Yeah.”
“And then she ended the relationship?”
“Pretty much.”
Hank lowered his beer. “That’s brutal.”
Dave gave a humorless laugh. “Thanks.”
Hank studied Dave’s expression. “What did you say?”
Dave looked out at the yard again. “I told her I love her, too.”
Hank was quiet for a moment. “And you still walked out?”
“I didn’t have much choice.”
“You could’ve stayed.”
“Not without ignoring what she’d asked me for.”
Hank nodded slowly. “Fair enough.”
Dave leaned back in the chair and stretched out his legs. The problem was that leaving Beth’s house hadn’t stopped him wanting to go back. He’d reached for his phone more times than he cared to count.
On Monday, he’d nearly sent her a message asking if she was okay.
Tuesday, he’d considered calling. This afternoon, he’d caught himself wondering whether Laurel might know how Beth was doing.
Then he’d realized how unfair it would be to drag her friend into something Beth had asked to deal with privately.
So he’d done nothing. He hated doing nothing. “I keep wanting to call her,” he admitted.
Hank studied him. “But you haven’t.”
“No.”
“Then don’t.”
Dave turned his head. “That’s your advice?”
“Would you prefer something more dramatic?”
“At this point, I’d settle for useful.”
Hank smiled faintly. “All right. You want useful? Beth asked you for space. Give it to her.”
Dave’s jaw tightened. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
“I know. And you’re miserable because you think doing nothing means you’re failing.”
Dave frowned.
Hank pointed the neck of his bottle toward the tractor. “You’ve spent your whole life solving things. Something breaks, you repair it. A supplier makes a mistake, you sort it out. A building has a problem, you work out why and do something about it.”
“That’s my job,” Dave told Hank.
“Exactly. You’re used to action getting results.”
Dave understood where this was going. “Hank—”
“But Beth isn’t that tractor,” Hank said.
“I know that.”
Hank threw his hands in the air. “Then stop looking for the wrench.”
Despite himself, Dave laughed.
Hank grinned. “There. That’s better.”
The sprinkler changed direction outside. Dave watched it for a few seconds before speaking again. “What if Beth thinks I stopped caring?”
“She won’t.”
“You can’t know that.”
“No, but Beth isn’t stupid. She knows exactly why you’re staying away.”
Dave rubbed a hand across his jaw. “And if she never changes her mind?”
Hank’s expression became serious again. “Then she doesn’t.”
The answer landed harder than Dave expected. “You’re terrible at this,” he told Hank.
“At what?”
“Making people feel better.”
“I wasn’t trying to make you feel better.”
Dave smiled, despite how he was feeling. “That much is obvious.”
Hank leaned forward. “You love her. That doesn’t guarantee you the ending you want. But if you go charging back in because you can’t stand waiting, the only thing you’ll prove is that you didn’t listen to her.”
Dave knew that. He’d known it before he came here. But knowing something didn’t make it any easier.
Hank stood and set his empty bottle on the workbench. “Come on. Help me finish this thing before Rosa gets home. If she discovers two contractors have spent most of the evening drinking beer beside a broken lawn mower, she won’t be impressed.”
Dave got out of his chair. “Then we’d better fix it.”
Together they fed the new belt around the pulleys, adjusted the tension, and argued briefly about whether Hank had bought the correct size. He had.
Dave tightened the final bolt and pushed himself upright. “Try it.”
Hank climbed onto the seat and turned the key. The engine coughed, spluttered, then settled into a steady rumble. He looked ridiculously pleased with himself. “There. Fixed.”
Hank switched off the engine and for the first time all evening, Dave realized several minutes had passed without him thinking about Beth. It wasn’t much of an achievement, but he’d take it.
Dave wiped his hands on a rag and reached for his jacket.
“Are you coming for dinner on Friday?” Hank asked.
Dave nodded. “I’ll be here.”
“Good.”
After saying goodbye to his friend, Dave headed across the driveway. Nothing about the last three days had changed how he felt about Beth. He still wanted her in his life.
But wanting something badly didn’t give him the right to force the timing. Beth had asked him for room to find her own answer. And, for now, he would give it to her.
Even if keeping his distance turned out to be far harder than closing it.