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“With Melody. I took her to the historic registry to get the application for the house.”
He looked out the window. “They closed two hours ago,” he grinned.
“We went for a walk after,” I shrugged, pushing past him to snag a beer from the fridge. “But…well, I did invite her to the fundraising fair.”
“So you finally gonna introduce her to Emily?”
“Actually, her grandparents asked if she could go visit with them,” I replied. “They’re getting a cabin for the weekend a few towns over. I guess they still aren’t ready to come back to Silver Point. But at least they’re going to see her. That’s the important part.”
“That’s convenient,” he said, stirring the bubbling pot some more.
I reached over and turned the knob to lower the temperature. “You’ve got this up too damn high. That’s the problem.”
“Hey, you won’t be questioning my skills when you taste this. I think it’s my best batch yet.”
I grabbed the spoon and tasted it for myself. “Needs more salt and some cinnamon.”
“Cinnamon!?” he shot back, his face scrunched up in disgust.
“It’s Rebecca’s old secret. Trust me. Just a teaspoon.” I swiped the cinnamon off the rack by the fridge and tossed it in his direction.
He flew his hand out to catch it and eyed the bottle with suspicion but finally gave in and sprinkled in a teaspoon.
“I’m in favor of this thing with Melody. Just so you know,” he added. “Whatever it turns out to be. I think she’s good for you. Even if she is just a big city girl.”
“I think there may be more to her than we thought in that regard.” A smile crept across my face as I thought about how sexy she looked in those cutoff shorts and that baggy shirt, her hair all wild and pulled back in a sloppy ponytail. Her legs looked so silky and amazing as she walked across the shore barefoot all afternoon. It was hard not to stare. Maybe that’s why it was so easy to lose track of time.
23
MELODY
I stood in the front yard, staring down the clumps of brown dirt and earth laid out in the gardening beds. A worm was crawling above the surface and had just started to burrow its way back down into the soil when a bird swooped down suddenly and gobbled it up right in front of me.
My face soured. “Nature is brutal,” I grumbled.
I stared down the dirt a few moments more while slipping my hands into the canvas gloves I had found in the garage. It was weird to think my mom’s hands had worn those same gloves. I didn’t dwell on that too long because I was distracted by the confirmation that the dirt I was about to dig into did have worms crawling through it.
Of course, I figured it was a possibility even before I saw the bird catch its dinner. And it’s not like I was ever one of those little girls who would scream and cry about gross things like bugs. When Katie found a spider or mouse in her apartment, I was usually the one she called over to help take care of it. It’s just that it had been a while since I had seen this much nature so up close and personal, and I had certainly never gardened before.
“I can do this,” I told myself under my breath.
I had weeded the hell out of the garden beds, but I had plenty of anger to motivate me then. This was different. It seemed like bad luck to plant seeds when you were mad, like it would seep into the roots and grow sad plants. No, I wanted to be calm and cool as a cucumber so the plants could start out fresh and happy, free of inherited resentment. So it was a good thing that Derek and I had smoothed things over and that I had a date with him that evening to look forward to.
I glanced over the directions again, picked up the small metal shovel, and started to dig shallow holes in neat rows. After taking a step back to study the layout and ensure I had everything right, I stuck little wooden sticks into the dirt. Each one displayed a hand-drawn label I had made to mark the different things that would be growing so I’d know where one thing started and another ended. That seemed crucial for a newbie gardener like me. I didn’t want to get my plants mixed up and accidentally weed one of them out.
With everything labeled, it was time to sprinkle in the seeds. That was my favorite part. I sent happy wishes to each of them as they fell from my hand into the carefully dug holes. Planting them was the easy part. The real task would be to make sure they didn’t die. At least I didn’t have to keep up with that part for too long. By the time the flowers were ready to bloom the next spring, I would be back in New York.
I pulled off the gloves and chewed my bottom lip. Why was the thought of going home starting to give me more of a bad feeling than a good one? It had been happening more and more lately. This time I convinced myself it was just because I was sad, I wouldn’t be around to see my hard work start to bloom into big, beautiful flowers.
“You’ll want to add some mulch over those,” Derek’s voice appeared behind me suddenly.
I startled and clutched my pounding heart, laughing with a sigh of relief that it was only him sneaking up on me. But then it immediately started pounding like a drum all over again because Derek standing there meant that it was time to go, and I was horribly unprepared.
“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. What time is it? I’m going to make us late,” I fretted.
“No, no. Don’t worry about it,” he said, looking me up and down.
My regret sank deeper as I realized my feet, knees, and hands were completely covered in dirt. “Ugh, so sorry,” I offered again, brushing clumps of the dirt off in vain. Nothing short of a shower was going to clean it all off, but there was no time for that.
