their beds.
She loved the idea that her neighborhood was only one of billions just like it, that people all over the world were doing the same insanely routine and infinitely normal things she could remember doing before her life slipped between the jaws of a vise. Mankind had gone on without her, but it hadn’t changed so much that she couldn’t find a place to fit in again. Nor had she been squeezed and molded into something it couldn’t embrace again, come to think of it.
Strange, that hadn’t occurred to her before—that maybe her music hadn’t changed her as much as she’d thought, that living differently didn’t necessarily make you different inside.
Truth be told, she hadn’t really done much thinking lately, just reacting. Everything seemed to happen so fast. The pain. The surgery. The looks. The pity. It all seemed like part of the swirling blue water in the toilet bowl, that disappeared along with her career in a matter of seconds. Then there was Tylerville and the children, and only now did her life feel calm enough for thought. For replanning, rebuilding...
Nearby, a screen door bumped closed softly. She cringed and scrunched herself a whole size smaller.
What was she doing? Reacting again. Cowering instinctively in the face of change.
Obviously she’d wanted to be there, wanted Scott Hammond to know she’d met his challenge, that she wasn’t afraid of him and that she wanted to be with him. Knowing he was on his front porch waiting for her had her blood sizzling with excitement, her nerves jittering with anticipation. She wanted him, she realized with an exhausted sigh. She did. Had, all along.
She lowered her head to her hands and rocked it slowly back and forth. She couldn’t fight him and herself.
The sound of his footsteps in the gravel drive had her jumping up. She did the Indecision Shuffle on the top step. Hide? Go inside? Stay?
He yelped when she sprang up before him at the bottom of her front steps.
“You scared me,” he said, his hands automatically reaching out to her.
“Sorry.” She shied away from his touch. It made pins and needles in her feet and fingertips.
“It’s okay,” he said with a soft laugh, moving his hands to his chest for lack of a better place to put them. “I didn’t think...I thought...” He started to laugh.
She wanted to laugh, too, but was afraid it would come out sounding a bit hysterical.
“Hi,” he said, starting over.
“Hi.”
“I’d invite you to walk but I want to be able to hear Chloe. How about a swing?”
A swing?
“Oh. On your porch...Sure.”
“She’s a pretty good sleeper normally,” he said, groping in the dark for her. They were between streetlights and visibility was poor. He was afraid he’d walk into her, knock her down. “But it’s still a new house and a strange town with different night noises.”
“I understand.”
He used her voice to pinpoint her and finally just reached out and took her arm. She startled.
“I’d have left the porch light on but...bugs, you know.”
“Oh, me too,” she said self-consciously, acutely aware of his light grasp. “I mean, that’s why I left mine off. The bugs. Too bad the moon isn’t full.”
The gravel crunched loud under their feet as they both realized a full moon would have been very romantic, and while romance was certainly in the air, the most significant emotion on their plate at the moment was an unmanageable awkwardness.
“Careful,” he said. “Chloe’s bike is here somewhere.”
“I saw the two of you earlier,” she said, picking her steps painstakingly. “You’ll be taking those training wheels off soon, she’s almost got it.”
“Maybe. She and her mother live in a condo, so she doesn’t get much chance to practice. And she forgets between visits with me.”
“Well, they say that once you learn, you never forget how.” She felt a slight tug on her arm and followed his lead to the porch, rattling on, “Liddy can still ride a bike.
She loved the idea that her neighborhood was only one of billions just like it, that people all over the world were doing the same insanely routine and infinitely normal things she could remember doing before her life slipped between the jaws of a vise. Mankind had gone on without her, but it hadn’t changed so much that she couldn’t find a place to fit in again. Nor had she been squeezed and molded into something it couldn’t embrace again, come to think of it.
Strange, that hadn’t occurred to her before—that maybe her music hadn’t changed her as much as she’d thought, that living differently didn’t necessarily make you different inside.
Truth be told, she hadn’t really done much thinking lately, just reacting. Everything seemed to happen so fast. The pain. The surgery. The looks. The pity. It all seemed like part of the swirling blue water in the toilet bowl, that disappeared along with her career in a matter of seconds. Then there was Tylerville and the children, and only now did her life feel calm enough for thought. For replanning, rebuilding...
Nearby, a screen door bumped closed softly. She cringed and scrunched herself a whole size smaller.
What was she doing? Reacting again. Cowering instinctively in the face of change.
Obviously she’d wanted to be there, wanted Scott Hammond to know she’d met his challenge, that she wasn’t afraid of him and that she wanted to be with him. Knowing he was on his front porch waiting for her had her blood sizzling with excitement, her nerves jittering with anticipation. She wanted him, she realized with an exhausted sigh. She did. Had, all along.
She lowered her head to her hands and rocked it slowly back and forth. She couldn’t fight him and herself.
The sound of his footsteps in the gravel drive had her jumping up. She did the Indecision Shuffle on the top step. Hide? Go inside? Stay?
He yelped when she sprang up before him at the bottom of her front steps.
“You scared me,” he said, his hands automatically reaching out to her.
“Sorry.” She shied away from his touch. It made pins and needles in her feet and fingertips.
“It’s okay,” he said with a soft laugh, moving his hands to his chest for lack of a better place to put them. “I didn’t think...I thought...” He started to laugh.
She wanted to laugh, too, but was afraid it would come out sounding a bit hysterical.
“Hi,” he said, starting over.
“Hi.”
“I’d invite you to walk but I want to be able to hear Chloe. How about a swing?”
A swing?
“Oh. On your porch...Sure.”
“She’s a pretty good sleeper normally,” he said, groping in the dark for her. They were between streetlights and visibility was poor. He was afraid he’d walk into her, knock her down. “But it’s still a new house and a strange town with different night noises.”
“I understand.”
He used her voice to pinpoint her and finally just reached out and took her arm. She startled.
“I’d have left the porch light on but...bugs, you know.”
“Oh, me too,” she said self-consciously, acutely aware of his light grasp. “I mean, that’s why I left mine off. The bugs. Too bad the moon isn’t full.”
The gravel crunched loud under their feet as they both realized a full moon would have been very romantic, and while romance was certainly in the air, the most significant emotion on their plate at the moment was an unmanageable awkwardness.
“Careful,” he said. “Chloe’s bike is here somewhere.”
“I saw the two of you earlier,” she said, picking her steps painstakingly. “You’ll be taking those training wheels off soon, she’s almost got it.”
“Maybe. She and her mother live in a condo, so she doesn’t get much chance to practice. And she forgets between visits with me.”
“Well, they say that once you learn, you never forget how.” She felt a slight tug on her arm and followed his lead to the porch, rattling on, “Liddy can still ride a bike.
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