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Enthused now, his grin widened as he perched on the edge of Barry’s porch swing and slipped his guitar strap over his shoulder, situating the instrument into position. I knelt down in front of him, sitting on my knees so I wouldn’t freeze off my bum. As Adam bent his face over the wooden neck, his fingers found the strings by feel, and a melody unlike anything I’d ever heard before flowed out. It was soft and tender. Lovely and yet heartbreaking. Like a gentle current on a warm, sunny day—so unlike the frozen tundra surrounding the porch where we sat.
The stream of music he created almost made me cry. And then he began to sing. He thoughtfully placed each word together. Bridget would have to be deaf and blind not to know what Adam felt for her when she heard this.
I covered my mouth as my throat went dry and my eyes went moist. This was art created with love.
By the time he finished, I was laughing with tears streaming. “It’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.” I surged to my feet and threw open my arms. “She’ll love it.”
I hugged him again, but this time when he hugged me back; it was with both arms. He squeezed me gratefully, his happiness soaking out of him and filling me.
When we pulled away from each other, we both had these goofy grins on our faces and tears on our cheeks.
A flitter of uncertainty edged his gaze as Adam said, “Do you think—”
“Yes,” I answered before he could finish the question. “You have nothing to worry about.”
Shoulders relaxing, he nodded before thanking me. Then he shivered and glanced out at the falling snow on the lawn. “Well, I think I’m going to shove off before I turn into a Popsicle.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry.” Jumping into the role of hostess, I pointed to the front door. “Do you want to come in for some hot chocolate?”
He cast a leery glance toward the shades covering the large front window. “Uh, no thanks. I don’t think your stepdad wanted me around.” Turning back to me, he lifted his eyebrows. “The guy sends out some pretty clear vibes.”
Something inside me shuddered with fear. But I kept my face passive. At least I hoped I did. “Barry wouldn’t mind,” I assured, hoping my own claim was true.
Adam shook his head anyway. “That’s okay. I, uh, I kind of wanted to head over to Bridget’s.”
I felt like slapping my palm to my forehead. Of course he wanted to see Bridget now. Duh. “Then what’re you still doing here?” I accused with a smile, grasping his elbow and nudging him toward the porch steps. “Get over there already, Romeo.”
He rolled his eyes but loped off with a grin. As he reached his car, he glanced back and waved at me. I waved too and then folded my arms back over my chest to keep in as much warmth as possible, which wasn’t much to begin with. My toes were beginning to burn with cold. Yet I stood there and watched my friend drive away. I didn’t go back inside until about thirty seconds after his car disappeared around a corner. Then I shivered and hurried toward the entrance.
Thankfully, Barry wasn’t lingering anywhere nearby, so I slipped to my room and closed the door, locking it.
Mom got home by nine that evening. I heard the garage door open and close and then two muffled voices followed as she and Barry no doubt greeted each other. I stayed in my room, doing homework without putting much effort into it.
Half an hour later, I received a text alert from the school, saying classes had been cancelled the next day due to inclement weather. In relief, I shut my textbook and turned to my laptop. I didn’t go into any social networking sites though; I didn’t really feel like chatting online with anyone. So I cruised the web, checking out a couple expensive cameras I was saving my money to buy.
I was almost wishing I hadn’t tucked Barry’s sixty dollars he’d slipped into my purse back on top of his dresser with the rest of his spare change when I heard the home phone ring in the background. Seconds later, a knock came at my door.
“Grace,” Mom called in a pleasant enough voice to gain my attention.
What was this? My mom wanted to talk to me? Calmly?
I hopped off the bed and went to unlock the door, pulling it open.
She held the cordless phone against her shoulder. “With school cancelled tomorrow, Rita Gruber needs a babysitter for her son, Cody. Could you watch him?”
I blinked. “Who’s Rita Gruber?”
Her sigh was irritated. Eyebrows pinching together, she impatiently explained, “She’s Barry’s receptionist. She only lives a couple blocks away. You could walk to their house without any trouble.”
I grimaced. She narrowed her eyes.
Babysitting wasn’t something I did often. Besides, what kind of kid was this Cody? How old? Would I be changing dirty diapers or trying to keep him off porn channels? It didn’t even occur to me he had to be school age since that’s exactly why I was needed to babysit.
Don’t ask where my brain was, because I couldn’t give you a good answer.
“Well?” Mom finally snapped, her patience dissolved into a dirty scowl.
“Fine,” I muttered and shut the door in her face, clicking the lock as loud as I could.
