The carbonation from the beer tingled against my tongue, or maybe it was Grace that made me tingle. She sat beside me, grazing on her ham-and-cheese sandwich. Somehow, after half a dozen beers with Albert on the porch, she had warmed up to me and even let me make her something to eat. The sky looked like a watercolor painting, a mix of blues and yellows and pinks, but the beauty of it paled in comparison to her. Grace rocked back and forth in the creaky, wooden chair. We were back to talking about dating things, learning about one another, likes and dislikes, hopes and dreams, and all that. It was nice, real nice.
“What’s your biggest regret?” she asked, pulling the bottle from her lips. The liquid left behind a glimmery sheen that begged to be kissed. But I resisted.
“Leaving here,” I said. “But also coming back.”
Grace tilted her head. “Why?”
“When I left, I felt like a wild animal being released from captivity. I went out and got a taste of freedom, and realized the world wasn’t like I thought it was. Then I was put back in the cage, so to speak.” I glanced over at her. I was sure I wasn’t making much sense, but she nodded anyway.
She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t do Airbnb for the money, do you?”
Maybe she did have me all figured out.
I shook my head and drank. “No, I don’t.”
“Why’d you lie to me?” she asked, setting her empty plate down on the table between us.
“How’d you know I was lying?”
“It doesn’t matter how I knew. It matters why you lied.” Grace eyed me. She must have been watching me carefully this whole time.
I let out a deep breath and some of the truth came out with it. “I lied because I was embarrassed. My parent’s life insurance policies left me a lot of money, but I learned quickly that money ain’t everything. So, I started Airbnb simply because I was lonely.” My eyes flicked to her.
Grace pulled in her lips and lowered her chin.
I think she felt bad for me.
We sat there for a few moments, rocking back and forth, and staring out at the pond and the green pasture beyond it. I couldn’t let that be the end of the conversation.
“What about you? Biggest regret?”
“I don’t have any,” she said.
“Bullshit.”
“No, it’s true, I don’t have any. If it was good, I enjoyed it. If it was bad, I learned from it. I can’t go around regretting the things I’ve done that made me me.” She lifted her chin.
“You are something else,” I said, taking a swig.
“Something good?”
“I guess it don’t matter whether you’re good or bad because I can’t regret you. Well, according to your logic.” I grinned, shooting her a quick glance before staring at the setting sun. It reflected off the pond making it look like glass.
“You teasing me, Calvin?”
“Of course not. I would never.”
She laughed. We were back to day six, like day seven hadn’t happened. We were flirting again. We were actually talking. I think she could see it—a future with me. I’d shut out the rest of the world just to be with Grace Evans.
“What’s going on with my car?” she asked.
The question was like a punch to the gut. She was always asking about that damn car so she could get away from me.
“It’ll be fixed tomorrow.” There was no enthusiasm in my voice. I said it like I was reading an instruction manual.
The screen door opened and closed with a bang. Albert shuffled out with heavy lopsided steps. His skin was flushed, and his hair was matted in some areas and stuck out in others. I wasn’t sure if he had been napping or drinking more.
“Hey, Calvin. I’ve been drinking.” That solved that mystery. “I’m out of Jack. Would you mind driving me into town?”
I slightly narrowed my eyes. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.”
Grace collected the beer bottles and empty plates. “Oh, just go take him into town. We’re out of wine anyway.”
Reluctantly, I stood from my chair. I should have never let him stay here.
“Fine. I’ll be quick.” Before I could chicken out or stop myself from doing it, I planted a quick kiss on her forehead. She didn’t pull away.
“Thanks, Grace.” Albert threw a smile at her as he walked down the steps of the porch toward the truck.
“Should we really be encouraging his habit?” I whispered to Grace in a last-ditch effort to get out of leaving her.
“He’s old. Let him have the small joys he still has left,” she said. “Besides, bad habits aren’t always all that bad.”
“You’re a softie, Grace.” When I leaned down to kiss her on the cheek, she turned her head and allowed her lips to meet mine. They were warm and soft like my pillow in the summertime. When she pulled away, all I could do was smile. “Be back soon.”
“Better get going. Albert’s waiting.” She gestured toward the vehicle. He was already sitting in the front seat, cranking down the passenger side window.
I nodded and started toward the truck, keeping my eyes on Grace. I never wanted to look away. Some things just have a pull on you, and she was one of them.
39.
Grace
After Calvin left, I found myself standing at the end of the hallway. My eyes went to the door with the padlock, the one that led to the basement, the one that was off-limits. He wouldn’t be gone longer than a half hour. I took a couple steps toward it, deciding whether or not it was worth having a look. Did I have the time? He’d been gone ten minutes already. Did it matter what was down there? Would it change anything? Or should I just focus on getting through the next two days? Just two days. Forty-eight hours. Two thousand eight hundred and eighty minutes. Then it would all be over. I hoped Calvin realized this was temporary. Everything was temporary . . . even life itself. But I wasn’t sure he knew that or accepted it. He looked at me like I was the beginning and the end. There was no chance in hell I’d stay. But a little hope went a long way. I just needed to make sure my car was fixed by tomorrow so I could hit the road the day after—bright and early.
A knock on the front door startled me. I made my way through the living room and hesitated before opening it. A fist pounded against it, and I jumped. My hand hovered over the handle. Before I could turn it, the door flung open and Joe stumbled in. I backed up quickly, putting distance between us. His clothing was filthy, covered in dirt and dust. His bottom lip was swollen, his nose bloody, and his eye was already blossoming into what would surely be a bruise.
“Joe? What happened to you?”
He touched his lip, bringing a bloodstained finger into his line of sight, and smiled. Staggering farther into the living room, he stopped and stood in front of the framed wooden mirror hung above the couch.
“Damn, he got me good,” he said, turning his head side to side. Joe pressed his fingers against his cheekbone and winced.