16. Chapter 16
Chapter 16
James
B y mid-June, everything was well underway on the Blake project. As Lizzie sat typing away on her laptop each day—often with a snack of some sort and a huge mug of coffee by her side—we’d been slowly transforming the cabin around her.
Once she’d signed off on the blueprint layout I’d worked up for her in early May, we started off with demoing the section of wall in the master bedroom that would lead into the new bathroom addition and building out the structure. Another week was spent scraping and repainting the exterior wood siding in a deeper navy, touching up the white shutters as well. We quickly followed that with a full rebuild of the front porch, with a new overhang for shade—ready for the long summer ahead.
Jesse also had a friend, Chris, who’d started up a landscaping business—so we worked out a deal with him to tidy up the yard, adding some rock-bordered plant beds and a stone path connecting everything. Before he wrapped up, we also had him trim a few of the trees along the property—though Lizzie insisted the river birch not be touched.
“They’re my favorite,” she’d said, “and they deserve to reach as far and wide as they wish to go.”
Seeing how the outside of the property was coming together already, I was glad we’d opted to start there—as temperatures had already started climbing. I knew we’d be better off working indoors as much as possible during the hotter summer months—especially now that I’d had my buddy, Art, take care of installing the A/C unit.
The day after he’d finished up the project, I knew right away that eating the cost to hire another contractor had been the right move. Watching the satisfied grin light up Lizzie’s face as the stuffy cabin filled with cooler air made it worth every penny of his fee.
But it was only partly about practicalities and cooler air, though. Making her happy had become just as much of a motivator—so much so, it surprised me.
Six weeks in, she and I had settled into a relaxed sort of rhythm together—and for maybe the first time ever, I was excited to come to work each day. Not only was Lizzie gracious and flexible, her warm, laid-back personality made her easy to be around.
More than ‘easy’ —I wanted to be around her. Probably more than I should. Definitely more than felt professional. And plenty that felt borderline inappropriate, though I’d obviously kept myself in check.
But as we spent day after day coexisting with one another, I couldn’t help learning what made her tick. Like her weird addiction to cashews (it was borderline obsessive) , or how I’d sometimes catch her humming to herself when she was alone outside or working on something in the kitchen. And there was no doubt she was a hard worker, rarely without her laptop or a book—both almost an extension of her. It made me think of my mom, who’d been a librarian—a core memory I hadn’t called up in a very long time.
And whenever I could tell she felt stressed by something, I’d see her alternating between flexing her fingers and balling them into fists, like the rhythm of it somehow soothed her. But when she was really focused on a task, like her writing, she’d wrinkle up her nose just a bit while chewing on her lower lip, oblivious to the world around her as she typed away.
I had to admit—all of it made me like her even more.
Our lunch breaks, though, were what I looked forward to most. The two of us would sit at her little kitchen table together—or sometimes, if the weather cooperated, out on the covered porch. It was there that we opened up around each other even more, talking about our lives, how we spent our free time, along with random stories about friends and locals in Dearing Creek. Sometimes our talks went deeper, and it always left me wanting to know even more about her.
And for probably the first time in my life—or at least, beyond GiGi—I actually enjoyed the process of getting to know a woman, digging into what mattered. Or more specifically, this woman. There was nothing pretentious about her—and the questions she volleyed back made it seem like she really cared about who I was, beneath all the small talk. Not just for show, or to get something out of me I didn’t want to give.
As the weeks passed, I knew it wasn’t just because Lizzie happened to be the one right there in front of me, easily accessible, that drew me in.
It was her .
Maybe believing she could feel it too was wishful thinking. It also treaded dangerously close to the boundaries I’d set.
But each day, it was becoming harder to remember why I’d even drawn the line in the first place.
One afternoon, I decided to let Jesse take the lead on overseeing the roofers, giving me space to plan out a smaller project I’d been most excited to dig into. And I had to admit, it was mostly because I knew how much it would mean to Lizzie. I couldn’t wait to see the look on her face once it was done.
I was out on the porch, taking a break on one of her new Adirondack chairs when I heard the front screen door swing open. Glancing up from the sketch pad in my lap, I saw Lizzie step out, two glasses of lemonade in hand.
Today, she had her long hair pulled back in a low ponytail, over her usual tank top and shorts. I couldn’t help but notice how today’s pair hugged her curves in a way that made me irrationally jealous of a simple piece of fabric.
All that was to say, she looked beautiful—but in her relaxed, natural sort of way, without trying too hard. I liked it, way better than the overdone look most of the women I’d known seemed to go for. Like everything else with Lizzie, she didn’t need to try. She already stood out, in the best ways possible.
However, that also made it much more impossible to not notice her. Especially now, as she gave me a smile that nobody in their right mind could ignore. “Hey, there, want some lemonade? I thought maybe you guys could use a drink.”
“Awesome, thanks.” I smiled and accepted the glass gratefully, taking a deep swig. God, it tasted good—especially with how unseasonably hot it had been all week. I pressed the cool glass against the side of my face, feeling the droplets of perspiration roll down my cheek. “Want me to take the other one over to Jesse? I think he’s in the back, wrapping things up with the roofers.”
“No, that’s ok. I already brought the whole crew a glass through the back door. This one’s all mine.” She grinned, motioning towards the empty seat next to me. “Care if I join you?”
“Not at all, you know I love the company.” As she lowered herself onto the chair, I held out the small bag of cashews I had in my hand towards her. “Hungry?” She nodded as I bit back a smile, and I dumped several into her outstretched hand.
“Thanks. They’re my favorite.”
“Yeah, I’ve kinda noticed.”
Grinning, she tossed the nuts into her mouth and leaned back, chewing as she trailed the bottom of her glass along her thigh, leaving a glistening trail. “God, it feels so good not to be staring at that stupid computer screen right now.”
I chuckled as I closed the cover on my sketch pad. “Book still not going well, I take it?”
She groaned, rolling her eyes as she munched on a nut. “You could say that. A documentary on the sexual lives of mealworms would probably be more riveting than the chapter I’ve been trying to write all week.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard those mealworms can get pretty kinky.”
She laughed along with me for a moment, but her eyes still looked sad. “Honestly, I think it might be time to pull the plug and put the entire book out of its misery.”
I glanced over at her. “I was thinking last night… Maybe a longer break would do you some good. Could help you to feel re-energized or find some inspiration?” I gestured towards GiGi’s dock, where my kayak was drying out from my early morning paddle. “Whenever I need to work out something in my head, time out on the water is usually what I need.”
“Right, I’ve noticed you out there a lot of the mornings. Not that I’m some creeper spying on you or anything,” she explained in a rush, but she was blushing again. I did my best to hold back the smile. “I just mean, sometimes when I’m up making coffee, I’ll see you out on the lake. It looks like it would be peaceful.”
“It is. You ever been kayaking before?”
She shook her head, making a face. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always thought it looked fun… just not sure I’m coordinated enough to paddle and keep myself afloat at the same time.”
I leaned over, side-tapping my foot against hers as the skin of our legs brushed against each other, my rough to her smooth. I couldn’t help wondering what it would be like, feeling more of her.
Which, of course, was a thought I needed to push straight out of my head—before it became impossible to hide how much she was affecting me at the moment.
I cleared my throat, shifting slightly in my seat. “Happy to teach you sometime, if you’re ever interested in learning. I’ll even throw in a one hundred percent no drowning guarantee.”
Lizzie smiled, her eyes now playful. “How about this… I’ll make you a deal.” Her gaze briefly flickered downward, and I prayed to God she hadn’t noticed the bulge forming against my will beneath the glass I held in my lap. “If you’ll read a book I recommend, I’ll go kayaking with you sometime.”
“I don’t know… I’ve never been much of a reader.”
“Yeah, I’ve kinda noticed, ” she said, echoing back my earlier words with a wink. I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Alright, deal . Just tell me what book I need to read.”
“Great! I’ll have something for you by tomorrow.” She beamed, pausing for a moment before continuing. “And listen, I really appreciate the advice, too… It makes sense. I guess I hoped moving up here would be enough to help me get out of my writing rut. The lake has always been my happy place. But looks like I still have more to work through. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try something new.” She gave me another quick smile. “Lord knows ignoring my problems has never worked out anyway.”
I met her eyes, with a look that I hoped appeared sympathetic. But deep down, her words had struck a chord—almost like they were meant for me.
How long had I been trying to do the same?
The two of us sat there together for a while in comfortable silence, allowing both the sweet coolness of the lemonade and the sounds of nature filtering through the air to fill in the gaps.
Of course, I knew exactly how Lizzie felt. This lake—the entirety of Dearing Creek, really—had always been my happy place, too. Even with the unrest I’d been dealing with over the past couple of years, I needed to remember how lucky I was to be here.
Of course, I’d never wish to repeat the circumstances that had landed me here with GiGi and Pops twenty-six years ago—without question, I’d do pretty much anything to have my mom back. But I was grateful, at least, to have this place. It was my home, and I never wanted to be anywhere else.
I peeked at her again out of the corner of my eye, noticing that her eyes had closed as she relaxed against the back of her chair. I couldn’t help but smile at her earlier confession—because, of course, I'd been watching her, too.
No matter how much I tried to pretend otherwise, there was something about her I felt a connection with. It was impossible not to like her. But maybe I was making all this too complicated. I could like her… didn’t have to mean anything more than that. Right?
I took another long, slow gulp from my glass, leaning back against my chair as well. From a few houses down, I could hear the Weaver kids giggling and splashing around in the water without a care in the world. How incredible it was to be a kid—just happy in the moment, with nothing heavy pulling at you. Sometimes, I wondered if I’d missed that part of my childhood entirely.
But right now, I could see it was Lizzie who needed the help finding her way through whatever was weighing her down so she could find her own happiness.
“Can I ask you a question?”
She opened her eyes, turning towards me again. “Sure, unless it’s about mealworms. I don’t actually have an opinion on their sex lives… though I’m sure theirs are far more interesting than mine.” She froze, cheeks blazing. “Oh, my God… forget I said that.”
“Oh, I don’t know, I’d say that comment alone qualifies you as plenty interesting,” I said, unable to hold myself back from laughing outright—though my insides did a funny little twist at the same time. “But my question was actually about your book… and I’ve been wondering about this for a while now. Does the Great Depression… interest you?”
“The answer should probably be yes? But if I’m being honest, not really.”
“Then why the hell are you writing a book about it?” I hadn’t meant for the words to come out with as much force as they did, but at least it made her laugh.
“Another good question… and before you ask, I don’t know the answer to that one, either.” I watched her turn and smile as we both heard Jeremy Weaver release a loud yodel, making one of his signature cannonball leaps into the water. “I mean, at first, I loved the idea of tackling a strong relationship, which is why I started with the two sisters. Having the book set back then was mostly because of stories my grandma used to share about her mother. I’d hoped to write something that would draw people in.” Looking back at me, she made a face. “But I’m having a hard time even getting myself to want to read it.”
I paused for a moment, considering. “So it’s the relationships that get you excited about writing, then?”
“Absolutely… which is why I’ve always loved romance novels. Grandma Cora and I used to have an ongoing reading list that we shared, too. She was always encouraging me to write one myself one day.” Her eyes lit up, as they often did whenever she talked about her grandmother. “And since she and my grandfather were basically the perfect couple, I figured they’d serve as my inspiration… if I ever got around to it.”
“Yeah, I remember you saying that. So, then what’s stopping you?”
“Well, it’s kind of embarrassing.” Lizzie stared down at the glass resting in her lap, tracing a pattern in the condensation. “My creative writing professors in college drilled it into my head that romance novels are basically… trash. My ex too, for that matter… called them the ‘bottom feeders of literature’ . That I’d never get published if I didn’t get serious.”
“Jesus, what an asshole,” I said, my words again bursting forth more forcefully than I’d intended. “Sorry, that was rude. But I hope that’s the reason he’s your ex.”
“It’s ok. And I know, that probably should’ve been enough, right?” This time, her eyes were sad. “But no… there were other things, in the end.”
Instantly, I felt a knot form in my gut at the thought of someone causing her pain. I’d known Lizzie for just over a month at this point, but it was enough to realize she deserved far better than how she’d been treated.
Of course, the irrational part of me wanted to find that asshole and remind him of who the bottom feeder actually was.
Draining the rest of my lemonade, I rested the bottom of the glass against my leg before looking over at her. “Listen… I think if your dream is to be a writer, write what you’re passionate about. Don’t listen to the noise from everyone else. Only you know what’s right for you.”
She gave me a small nod, her cheeks still flushed. “Thanks. I guess you’re the one I should be listening to, anyway. I mean, you made it happen, right? You’re living your dream.”
“Yeah, well… like I told you, I never really wanted to do anything else. But that doesn’t mean it was easy, getting to this point.” I shrugged. “You know what it’s like, making something from nothing. It’s that process of creation that really gets me going. There’s nothing better than having an idea in my head come to life in something I’ve helped build.”
“I totally get it. You’re an artist,” she said, matter-of-factly. “It’s obvious, looking at what’s already been done here, how thorough and talented you are.” She smiled. “I hope you know how grateful I am, having you here. Best decision ever.”
I felt my face grow warm at her compliment. I’d never really had someone describe my work in that way before. It felt… a little unnerving, but also really good . Though it was hard not to wonder if the job was the only reason she was glad I was there. “Well, thanks. I mean, I can’t take all the credit here. Jesse is one of the best. And between my formal training and Pops teaching me when I was growing up, I’ve had plenty of help along the way.”
Her eyes twinkled. “Maybe… but I think we both know you’re being too modest. You really put your whole heart into everything, James… like you were meant to do this.”
She had an almost dreamy look on her face as she said it, her full lips slightly parted, and it made me wonder how much of her statement was really directed at herself. Her eyes were on mine, though, as if hoping she’d find the answer there.
And I was looking at her too, not quite knowing the right words to say. Finally, I got my wits about me again. “Well, like I said… it’s taken me a long time to get here, but I’m glad I did. I think everyone assumed I would’ve gone out on my own a lot sooner than I did. And I would have, if it weren’t for—” I froze, realizing what I’d almost just admitted aloud.
If it weren’t for being focused on my resentment towards the man who abandoned me.
Standing up, I felt the tension rise within me quickly as the moment of vulnerability between us evaporated like a cloud of humidity. “Sorry, I just realized how late it’s getting. I better check in on Jesse to make sure the roofing crew wraps up everything properly.” Forcing a smile, I set my glass down on the small table between the chairs. “Thanks again for the lemonade.”
Of course, it was hard to miss Lizzie’s confused expression as I turned to step down the porch stairs, feeling her eyes follow me as I walked around towards the backyard, my mind racing.
Because for as much as I’d already shared about myself with Lizzie, I hadn’t yet been able to unbox what I’d gone through as a kid. But it was becoming clear—the further I continued down this path, the harder it would be to hold myself back with her at all.
Or maybe… I was just tired of feeling like I should.
I found Jesse standing near the driveway as I rounded the corner, talking to the lead from the roofing crew as the rest finished loading up their gear. As I approached, he shook the crew leader’s hand, walking over towards me.
I nodded my head towards the truck. “Everything done already?”
“Yep, this was an easy one for Val and the guys, pretty straight-forward. Told him to just email us the invoice to your business account… that ok?”
I nodded, my mind a million miles away from invoices. “Yeah, fine.”
“I’m going to wrap up and head out too, if that’s cool. Tara’s making meatloaf tonight,” he said, grinning. “I tell ya, her pregnancy cravings are working out really great for me.”
I smirked at my friend. “We’ll see if you’re still saying that after she sends you out to Filbert’s for a tub of ice cream every night.”
“Naw, I think I’ll benefit just fine from that, too.” Jesse winked, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Of course you will.” Shaking my head, I watched my friend strut away with the confidence of a man madly in love with his wife.
It was hard not to feel a little envious. And to wonder for like the billionth time if I’d ever have it in me to end up like my friend.
For some reason, the idea of it didn’t seem as far-fetched as it once had.
Twenty minutes later, I was in my truck and on the road as well before I realized—I’d taken off without telling Lizzie. Pulling out my phone, I scrolled through until I found her number.
JAMES: Hey, I just left for the day, realized I forgot to check in. See you bright and early in the morning .
A moment later, I heard a ping as her reply came through.
LIZZIE: Sounds good. Hope you have a great night… thanks again for the advice. Currently on the hunt for a documentary on mealworms… I’ll keep you posted.
JAMES: I await your report on the sexual habits of mealworms with bated breath.
LIZZIE: Also, no signs of Renaldo the Mouse yet. But if you hear screams from across the lake, you’ll know we finally had our rendezvous.
JAMES: Renaldo is a great name for a male lead. Maybe your mouse buddy was sent to you as a creative muse to inspire your first best-seller?
LIZZIE: Don’t hold your breath. I bought more mousetraps. #CanYouHearTheTrapsRenaldo
Chuckling as I dropped my phone into the cupholder, I turned off the gravel road from the cabins and headed east through the pines along County Road Three.
It was strange how it all came so easily with her, how sharing all the parts of me felt inevitable. It was hard to know exactly what all this meant yet, but one thing was certain—when I was with her, I felt happier, lighter. It was a feeling I hadn’t known much, and it made me want to chase after it. Even more, I wanted Lizzie to know me , as much as I wanted to know more about her. And not just as my client or my friend.
Just a handful of weeks with her was all it had taken for me to want to finally let all that other shit go and focus on moving forward.
There was one more question that still nagged at me, though—did I even know who I was, without the rest of it?