Elsie
Chapter Fourteen
Ihad thought Will was a smart guy, capable of common sense and simple reasoning. Apparently, I was wrong.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
The question was raised with disapproving eyes and a huff of indignation at the mere notion of me unbuckling my seatbelt.
We’d pulled up to the house after a weirdly silent car ride, consisting of Will sulking in his own thoughts for the latter half of the drive.
I guess he probably realized he was wasting a decent chunk of his day as my chauffeur. Not that I felt any guilt about it. It was his own choice that led to him being stuck in the car with me all morning.
“I’m going to get the heater,” I said slowly.
“Yeah, that’s not happening.”
“Will—”
“I’ll go get the heater. You can wait in the car.”
“What! No way,” I protested. “I’m not letting you go in and scare an old man.”
“How would I scare him?”
“Because large, domineering men with perpetual scowls on their faces are offputting, Will. That’s why. And since this man was kind enough to give me the gift of warmth for free, the least I can do is go thank him in person.”
“And if I hadn’t come with you,” he said slowly, “you would’ve just, what—gone into a stranger’s house by yourself?”
“Uh, yeah?” I stared at him, dumbfounded. “It’s not rocket science, William.”
“Why didn’t he leave it on the porch for you?”
“I told you, he sounded elderly. He probably can’t carry it out there.” I moved to open the car door.
In one swift motion, Will leaned his body across the truck and pulled it closed. I turned to him with a frown.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re kind of overprotective?”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re kind of na?ve?”
“Yes, actually,” I said, trying the door again.
Only to have him pull the same maneuver.
Damn it, he was fast.
And smelled faintly of Old Spice deodorant in an annoyingly distracting way.
“You know, you should really upgrade your truck,” I snarked. “Then you can just baby-lock me inside next time.”
“Noted,” he said, and then opened the driver’s side door. In an easy stride, he was already making his way up toward the house before I could process what was happening.
“Wait just a second.” I scrambled to jump down from the truck.
“Go back in the car, Elsie,” he called over his shoulder, as if I were a child trailing after him on a big-boy errand. “I got this.”
I rushed to catch up with him, unwilling to let the little old man suffer through the irritating event of meeting Will Hughes for the first time without me there as a buffer.
“You don’t listen,” he muttered, rolling his eyes as if I were the great bane of his existence.
“Neither do you.”
And because I was feeling like the petulant child he treated me as, when he raised his fist to knock on the door, I dove in front of him to beat him to it.
“Ha.” I stuck my tongue out in immature satisfaction.
Apparently, it didn’t warrant a response. Only the most dramatic of eye rolls. Somehow, it dulled the sense of victory.
“Just a minute,” a voice called from the other side of the door.
“Be nice,” I gritted out, staring up at Will with what I hoped would come across as a threatening glare.
The door opened and in its place stood a short, stout man who couldn’t be any younger than his seventies.
“Ah, are you the young lady come for the heater?” he asked, eyes scanning over the two of us.
“Yes, sir.” I smiled warmly.
“I see you brought your young man with you,” he said, eyes scanning between Will and I. “Good, because an old-timer like me will be useless in helping you drag the thing out to your car.”
My young man? I stared at Will with a muffled laugh at the assumption, before realizing it was probably my fault.
I took a generous step to the side, realizing I had severely invaded Will’s personal space in my haste to beat him to the knock.
“Oh, no, we’re not—” I started, but the old man had already turned on his heel to venture back into the house.
I stepped in, Will closely on my heel as we made our way through the eclectic home filled with more knick-knacks than a thrift shop.
“Just come down to the basement,” the old man called, already opening a rickety white door in the kitchen. “That’s where I keep it.”
“Okay!” I said, following him down the steps leading into the darkness of the cellar.
Will pulled my arm back with a forceful tug.
“Just so you know,” he breathed, hazel eyes blaring into mine, “you can’t be trusted to go anywhere by yourself ever again.”
I scoffed, shaking my head.
“Thanks for the concern, but look at the guy.” I stared down to where the old man was hobbling down the steps. “I think I’d be able to take him.”
He just shook his head in silent disapproval before cutting in front of me to head down first.
“Following old men into dark basements,” he muttered to himself. “Insane.”
The basement was dark, lit only by a singular lightbulb with a thin piece of string acting as a switch. The smell of must overwhelmed me, but I fought the urge to cough, thinking it might come across as offensive.
“Here it is, then.” The old man slapped a pudgy hand on top of an old, plug in heater. It might be from the nineties, but at least it was free.
I had to take wins where I could get them.
“Great,” Will said. “So glad we drove an hour and a half for a fire hazard waiting to happen.”
I elbowed him in the chest, hard. Unfortunately, it did more harm to me than it did to Will, who barely flinched.
“Well, thank you so much,” I said, trying to make up for his abrasiveness. “You saved me from the unfortunate fate of freezing to death over the winter,” I told him, moving toward the space heater.
“I got it,” Will said, stepping in front of me again.
“It’s not that heavy, Will. I can handle it.”
“Oh, let him take it.” The old man laughed. “That’s the thing about young men. They like to feel useful to their ladies. I remember that.”
“We’re not—”
“He’s not—”
Will and I stared at each other in horror, but the old man took no notice.
“I met my wife when I was about your age,” he said, looking us up and down. “She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. I miss her every day.”
“Oh no!” I stifled a gasp. “I’m so sorry. Did she…?”
He stared at me expectantly, forcing me to fill in the blanks.
“I’m sorry.” I cleared my throat. “Did she pass on?”
“What?” He reared back in shock, a scowl settling firmly on his weathered lips. “No! She ran off to Florida with some man she met on the internet. Haven’t seen her since. I knew getting her that desktop to play online poker would be the death of me.”
My eyes widened.
“Oh,” I said dumbly.
“Well, we better get going,” Will said, the space heater dangling from one arm.
“Do you want to come upstairs and look at a few pictures of her?” the old man asked, a flicker of hope lighting his eyes.
“Elsie.” Will’s voice was a warning.
But the man was lonely. And clearly desperate for some company. I couldn’t bear to think of how long he’d been here, waiting for his wife who never returned.
“Or better yet, I’ll show you the damn emails between her and that man, RascalTed1946.” He huffed an indignant breath. “I printed them all out.”
“Elsie—” Will repeated, a bit more panicked.
“Sure.” I shrugged halfheartedly, a nervous smile plastered to my face.
How could I deny him after I already reminded him of his runaway, cheater wife?
In simple terms, I couldn’t.
A half hour later, I was cross-legged on Roger’s living room carpet with a bucket of photos on the floor in front of me, and the old gentleman himself beaming at me from his spot in the recliner.
Will’s hellish death glare was burning a hole in my back, but how many opportunities did I get in life to brighten up an old person’s day to such a wholesome degree?
Not that the activity in question was particularly wholesome. In fact, what seemed to bring Roger the greatest joy was joining in on his rampant criticisms of his wife.
“And do you think she cares that I had to learn how to turn the oven on? Do you think she cares that I forget to take my medication now that she isn’t here to line it up for me?” he asked, eyes bugging out as he stared down at me.
“Heartless,” I muttered, with a solemn shake of my head.
“Well,” Will stepped forward, “this has been nice, but we really need to go.”
His hands came under my armpits, lifting me into a standing position with an ease that annoyed me. What did he have to be so strong for, working in a coffee shop?
“You’re right,” Roger said a little dejectedly. “I’ve kept you two long enough.”
He rose from the recliner, ready to see us to the door.
“Thank you for everything, Roger,” I told him genuinely. It may not have been my ideal way to spend an afternoon, but really it wasn’t so bad.
Sometimes it was worth being inconvenienced by others if it made their day a little better.
He smiled at me, and I handed him the stack of photos I’d been working my way through. He moved to grab them, only to drop them all in the transfer.
“Oh, let me.” I was quick to drop to my knees before he could make the attempt himself.
I grabbed them a few at a time, placing them back into a stack, when my hand hovered over one faded image that seemed to taunt me from its worn edges.
“That was our wedding day,” Roger said, noticing the way I lingered over the sight of it. “And what a happy day it was.”
I stared at it, finger tracing over every detail. The veil. The crowd of friends and family. The couple making their descent down the aisle.
I hadn’t made it that far. Got pretty damn close though, but like most things in my life, I fell just an inch short of actually achieving what I’d set out to.
Feeling stupid, I rose to my feet, handing it over to him.
Out of the corner of my eye, I felt Will staring at me, and I knew I’d just made a fool of myself in front of him.
What type of girl lost it at the sight of a stranger’s wedding photo? It was ridiculous. And only proved what he probably already thought—that I was some type of mentally unstable whack job that he somehow got saddled with.
But I was grateful to him in that moment for not calling attention to it. I wasn’t sure I could handle him poking at a wound that still felt far too fresh.
He opened the door, gesturing for me to go first while picking the heater up with his other hand.
I turned and waved goodbye to Roger, and sweet old lonely man that he was, he watched us our entire walk to the truck.
Will tossed the space heater into the truck in one swift motion. I fixed him with a reprimanding glare as I climbed into the passenger seat.
“Be careful with that,” I tried to tease, but my heart wasn’t in it. “Otherwise, you’ll be stuck driving me to some other old man’s house. And next time, we might not meet someone as charming as Roger.”
Will huffed out a silent laugh as he slid into the driver’s side. I was all too aware of the lack of space that an old-school pickup truck forced upon its passengers.
His hands moved to turn the keys into the ignition, but he looked over at me.
At first, I thought he was going to give me an earful about how I’d wasted so much of his time, but he surprised me.
With hazel eyes locked on mine, he almost seemed to examine me, searching for something that I wasn’t sure I wanted him to find.
“You okay?” he asked, staring at me in what I would’ve sworn was concern if it had been anyone else wearing the expression.
But because it was Will Hughes, I chalked it up to indigestion. Or maybe just an allergic reaction to too much time around people.
Either way, he probably didn’t really care.
“I’m fine,” I told him, forcing a smile. “Just tired.”
“Are you sure? Because you seem—”
“You know me, Will,” I told him cheekily, even though he really didn’t and probably never would. “I’m always happy.”
“Elsie—” he protested, but I cut him off.
“I need to get back home,” I muttered. “Work on my writing.”
He didn’t say anything, just continued to stare, waiting for answers that I had no plan on providing.
He was perceptive, I’d give him that. But he didn’t need to feel like he had to console me. He’d done plenty for me, and I wasn’t going to weigh anyone down with my emotional baggage. Especially someone like him, who clearly didn’t want to be bothered by the inconvenience of human emotion.
After a minute of silence, he exhaled in defeat and started the engine.
I manually rolled down the window—just another sign of how drastically outdated his vehicle was—and sucked in a breath of cold air, letting it bring me back to the present moment.
With my head resting against the window ledge, I watched the drizzle of rainfall on the back roads of Massachusetts. And if a tear or two escaped somewhere along the way, well, then I could just pretend it was rain.