“You don’t know what that took,” I replied. “There were so many people, and then, when the guy at the desk told me you were in the ICU, I fell apart in the lobby.”
He sat back and stared into my eyes. “He told you I was in intensive care?”
I nodded. “Clay said the receptionist misheard me when I asked for your room. He probably did too. I could barely get the words out, and he was busy.”
“Aw, Matt. I’m sorry. If my phone hadn’t gotten broken, I swear I would have called. Teresa picked up a replacement for me on her way to town. Otherwise I still wouldn’t have one.”
We sat in silence for a time, and it wasn’t at all uncomfortable. A glance at my watch told me we’d been on the porch for nearly three hours, and I didn’t want to have him stop touching me. But there were chores that needed to be done, so I pulled away. He squinted at me, then asked, “Everything okay? I didn’t do something wrong, did I?”
“No, you were amazing. I mean…. No, you didn’t do anything. I have things I have to get done, and I’m behind schedule. I know it’s weird, but—”
“It’s not. It’s part of you, and I think both of us will have to accept it.” He gave me a smile, which softened the words. “Is it okay if I stay here?”
“What? Yes, of course. I already said that. Why? Don’t you want to stay?” I asked, my voice rising in pitch.
“I meant here on the swing,” he said, relaxing into the cushion. “I’m about due for a pain pill and could use a nap. As for leaving, if you want me to go, you’re going to have to ask me. And so you know, if you do, I will go without any hesitation.”
As much as it shamed me, it settled my stomach, knowing I had options. I had no intention of exercising them, because having Charlie here calmed me. His face, his smile, even his scent settled a lot of the fear that roiled inside.
“Yes, rest.” I held up a finger when he started to speak, and then I went into the house, grabbed the blanket from the bed, took it back out, and spread it over him.
“I’m not an invalid,” he groused.
“You are for a time,” I countered, being gentle as I tucked the blanket under his legs. It felt right, and my stomach flipped at the realization that I was about to have someone in my home and I welcomed him there.
“Matt?”
I glanced up, and he smiled at me. “Yes?”
“Thank you.” He picked up his near-empty glass of lemonade and tipped it in my direction. “For everything.”
AS CHARLIEdozed, I set about canning the vegetables. Potatoes, beans, carrots, tomatoes, and corn. In a few weeks, I would also get a large delivery from the store. Unless the weather stayed mild, this would have to get me—us—through the winter months. And now that Charlie would be here, I needed to order more. I dialed the store and waited.
Six rings later a familiar voice came on the line. “Matt! I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Gianetti. I wasn’t sure you’d answer.”
“I’ll always answer for you, you know that. I know you don’t like talking to other people, and you know you’re one of my favorite customers.”
Mr. Gianetti had owned a small store with his wife when I was a kid. I would go in and buy a dollar’s worth of candy and walk away with a bag big enough for me to share with Clay. Even though I rarely did. I continued going there every day until the incident. After I hit puberty, I went in so I could stare at Milo, one of Mr. Gianetti’s sons, as his muscles strained while he worked. With his dark hair and blue eyes, he was a walking wet dream. One day I must have been watching him too intently because Mr. Gianetti caught me. I was worried he’d kick me out of his store or something. Never happened. He simply patted me on the shoulder and smiled, assuring me everything was okay.
“You love who you love, Matty. There’s nothing wrong with any of it. Though I think Milo might be a little old for you.”
That was it. He said nothing else on the subject.
Clay told me that after I’d moved away, Mr. Gianetti had grown his store into an actual grocery. When I moved into my house, I started doing my shopping over the phone with him, and when I would need something, he would always take my call, never letting anyone else talk to me. I appreciated the stability of our transactions.
“I know this is going to be a little weird, but I need to place another order.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment. “Was something wrong with what we sent you? If something didn’t come out right, you tell me, and we’ll make sure to fix it.”
“No, everything came perfectly, as always.” My stomach tightened. “I’ve got someone staying with me for a while, and I’m going to need extra things.”
“Oh, that’s good,” Mr. Gianetti said. “I worry about you, out there alone. The missus says you need someone. Is he a good man? Does he treat you right? If he doesn’t, you tell me. The boys will have a word with him.”
Mr. Gianetti always made me laugh. He always talked to me with a bad, overemphasized accent, like he was a mafia don or something. When I was a kid, he’d do it and waggle his bushy gray eyebrows.
“No, he’s a good man,” I promised. “So no need to rile the boys right now. Maybe later.”
