Carry Her Heart (14 page)

“You can wear whatever you want, but this is a real dinner at a sit-down restaurant, not pizza in your jungle.”

I nodded. “Yeah, that’s a grown-up clothes sort of evening then.”

I did the only thing a woman in my position could do.

I called Coop.

Big mistake.

On Saturday, I found myself at the mall with her as she said the words, “Now, let’s shop for makeup.”

We’d already shopped for clothes and shoes. She’d even made me buy a new purse. I wasn’t sure I could handle shopping for makeup, too. “Really, there’s no need. I have makeup. Why on earth would I need more?”

“When’s the last time you used makeup?” she asked.

I had to think about it. “The Amanda’s Pantry dinner last year.”

“Yeah, just toss that all out. We’re starting from scratch.”

“Coop, seriously—”

“I have never heard anyone whine so much about shopping.”

“I really, really hate shopping.”

“Really?” Coop asked, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “Because I couldn’t tell.”

I hefted the bags I was carrying. “I could have bought all this online.”

Coop shook her head and looked stubborn. I noticed as we walked we were moving toward the makeup counter.

“No,” she said firmly. “You couldn’t have shopped for this online, because if you did, you’d have bought the dress you tried on first. It was a size too big. So rather than look sexy, you’d have looked frumpy.”

“Ned’s used to me looking like this. He wouldn’t have minded the larger, more comfortable dress.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t have minded, but he wouldn’t have been blown away by it. This one, he’ll be blown away by.” She smiled, as if she was the one personally responsible for my impressing Ned.

“I don’t necessarily want to blow him away. And let’s be honest, he knows what I generally look like. He knows I won’t maintain this look for any length of time.”

“One look at you in this and he’ll forget everything he’s ever known.”

“Coop—” I started to protest.

She cut me off. “Listen, you two have danced around this since he first moved in. When it’s just you and me together, do you have any idea how often you say his name?
Ned said this. Ned did that
. Or
Ned and I
. . . You two have been an item for years; you simply didn’t realize it. Everyone else did. Mela did. And I’m pretty sure Anthony did. I did. And I bet if you called your parents, they did.”

“If you all thought that I . . . that we . . . Why didn’t anyone say anything?”

“Because it wouldn’t have mattered. Not until you were ready. I’ve known Mark since high school. But it wasn’t until this year, when he started teaching with me, that I realized there was more than just friendship.”

Coop hadn’t said much about Mark, but every time she did mention him, she practically glowed. “I’d like a chance to see you two together.”

“Maybe you, me, Mark, and Ned can go out sometime,” Coop said.

Talking about going out with Ned as a couple was odd. There was a difference between me and Ned doing something, and me-and-Ned-the-couple doing something.

I asked the question that was haunting me. “What if Ned and I try it out and it doesn’t work? What if we mess up our friendship in the process?” Ned had reassured me, but I wanted to hear Coop say the words, too.

Rather than reassurances, she scolded me. “You can’t live your whole life afraid of making a mistake, worrying about what might happen.”

“What if . . . ?” I said more to myself than to Coop, but she heard me.

“Right. Those kinds of worrying questions can paralyze you. Go out and knock his socks off. Let what comes next find its own way.”

I nodded. I was going to try.

I finished dressing and looked in the mirror. I was pretty sure with Coop’s help I’d gotten beyond my normal six or seven. I thought I might actually be dressed to the eights.

I jumped at the sound of the doorbell. I looked at the clock. Ned was early. I ran down the stairs to the front door. My palms were sweating as I opened it.

But it wasn’t Ned. “Mom?”

“Wow,” was all she said. “Where are you going?” She stepped inside.

I shut the door. “Just dinner,” I said, though I knew there was no
just
about it. Tonight could change everything. I wasn’t sure I wanted anything to change.

I liked my life. There was a rhythm to it.

I liked my friendship with Ned. I could count on it.

“I don’t think any woman in the history of the world has gone out to
just dinner
dressed like that,” she said.

“Is something wrong?” I tugged at my hem. I’d thought it was a bit too short, but Coop had assured me it was just right.

“No, nothing’s wrong. You look lovely. So who’s the guy?” she asked as she came into the house.

“Ned,” I admitted.

“Finally.” She packed a lot into that one word.

“What do you mean,
finally
?” I asked, although I was pretty sure she was going to join in the Coop serenade.

“Honey, your dad and I have always wondered why you and Ned weren’t dating. It’s as obvious as the nose on my face that there’s something between you.”

“We’re friends,” I said.

If dating didn’t work, we’d still be friends. I kept reminding myself that Anthony and I had stayed friends, so there was no reason that Ned and I couldn’t manage it, but still . . .

“Your dad and I are friends, too. Some people are destined for simple friendship, but for some, that friendship is the basis for something more. You can be friends with someone you love. Honestly, I think the best romantic relationships have a deep friendship at their core.”

I thought of Aunt Bonnie. She and my dad had never been more than friends. But with my mom . . .

Mom continued, “Yes, you and Ned are friends, but I think, if you let it, there’s more between you two.”

I said, “We’re going to see if there is.”

“Good. I just stopped by to see if you wanted to come over for pizza tonight.” She laughed. “I think your plans are probably going to be better.”

“I hope so,” I said, more to myself than her. To be honest, I wished Ned had asked me for pizza. That would have been easy. I know how to do pizza with Ned. I looked down at my outfit. I wasn’t sure I knew how to do this with him.

“Enjoy yourself, honey,” Mom said.

“I’d enjoy myself more if I weren’t all dressed up,” I muttered.

“You’re going to knock Ned’s socks off.”

“I kind of like his socks exactly where there are,” I said. I liked things the way they were. I shouldn’t have said yes to this date.

“Have fun,” my mother said.

I walked her to the door and opened it to see Ned. He was dressed beyond the eights and was definitely in the nine-ish zone. I thought the word
wow
, but didn’t say it out loud.

I just drank in the sight of him. He was my Ned, but more.

He didn’t say anything either.

We just stood there, looking at each other, and I’ll confess, I forgot my mom was there until she said, “Well, you two obviously don’t need me here,” and left.

As she left, I realized Ned had Princess with him. “Princess wanted to spend the evening with Bruce, if that’s okay,” he said.

“That’s fine.”

He unclipped her and let her into the house. Princess disappeared inside, looking for Bruce.

Ned extended his arm. “Shall we?”

I put my arm in his and we left.

I had high hopes for our date.

In the end, my hopes were the highest point of the date.

Dear Amanda,

It’s been a week since my date with Ned. I’ve wondered why it was such a flop. It was as if we couldn’t find anything to talk about and while Ned looked great and I looked as good as I could, it was as if the clothes just served to remind us both that this was more than one of the countless meals we’d shared. Meals where we never ran out of things to talk about.

I was so thankful when we got to the movies, but even that was different too. It was a Saturday night, and I don’t think either of us had given any thought to the fact that Saturdays are date nights. The theater was packed with couples.

The show we wanted to see was sold out, so we took the only other one that started in the same time slot. It was a morbid story of obsessive love that ended with one character dead and the other in jail. Not my kind of movie. Ned’s either, to be honest.

We pulled into Ned’s driveway and he went to change before coming over to get Princess. I changed as well.

When he came back, we were just Ned and Pip again.

And that made all the difference.

I’m not saying that dressing up and going out on the town doesn’t have its place, but I’m saying that maybe the best relationships don’t need makeup and high heels. Maybe they just need someone who likes you just the way you are.

Love,

Piper

I didn’t go into detail about it in the journal, but Ned came back over after the date wearing a T-shirt and jeans. I’d torn out of my dress and put on yoga pants and a
B Is for Bully
T-shirt.

He came in, took one look at me, and said, “There you are.”

“And there you are, too.”

And without waiting for an invitation, I walked into his arms. And what started out as an end-of-date, goodnight kiss, became an introduction.

Ned didn’t go home that night.

The next morning, we took Princess and Bruce for a walk, all four of us in our normal formation, until Ned reached over and took my hand.

It was a new configuration to our walk.

We’ve been walking that way ever since.

Senior Year

Chapter Twelve

I sat on my porch for another first day of school. It would be Amanda’s last first day of high school. She was on the cusp of adulthood.

The thought brought a mix of emotions and I wondered what she was planning to do when she graduated. Move on to a university somewhere? A year abroad? Straight into the workforce?

She was on my mind as I watched the annual chaos across the street. Last year’s students were all moving up a grade, and transfer students were joining them on the front lawn of the school, waiting for the bell to ring and start not just another school day but another school year.

Cooper had come over for an early breakfast. She’d been back at school a couple of weeks, getting ready for her students. But today was special, so I made her waffles and she bubbled over about her plans for the year. She warned me that the students had loved last year’s books, so this year’s class would expect to do them, which meant I should plan on some visits.

I was thrilled at the chance. I loved Coop’s enthusiasm for what she does.

Before she left, I’d handed her a bagged lunch with “Miss Cooper” printed boldly on the side.

She’d laughed and carried it off as she crossed the street.

Kids walked by and called out their hi-Miss-Pips. The littler ones chased each other and shrieked, while the older kids stood in clusters and tried to look cool.

I enjoyed the show. I had a cup of tea in my very proper forget-me-not teacup. The original had always been my favorite, but this replica was doubly so. Every time I used it, I thought of Ned. Those thoughts warmed me more than the tea.

I tried to work but couldn’t seem to manage it. The hustle and bustle across the street was a distraction. I finally gave up pretending to work.

I closed my eyes and let myself really listen to the sounds. A squeak of the metal teeter-totter. Cars rolling past. Car doors opening and slamming shut. A horn. And beneath all of that, the buzz of the children’s voices. Shouting greetings. Talking loudly. Laughing.

The word
cacophony
came to mind.

This was a wonderful example of a joyous cacophony.

The bell rang and I opened my eyes. A number of kids bolted toward the front doors. Others followed at an even pace. And a few walked so slowly they were almost moving backward.

Eventually they all disappeared into the school. Another bell rang and I knew they were heading into their new classrooms. They were meeting their new teachers, getting new books.

They were happy, afraid, excited.

Maybe I liked writing for kids because they had a life of endless possibilities in front of them. Whether they were living an idyllic childhood or a troubled one, they could become anything they wanted to be.

It was warm. More than warm, it was downright hot. I had on a pair of capris and a tank top. My hair was pulled into a high ponytail, so it didn’t touch my neck. It had been a cool summer, so to have such a hot day for the first day of school seemed slightly unfair.

It always seemed that cooler first days of school set the proper atmosphere.

I sat there thinking about the weather rather than writing. I finally admitted that I was not going to get any work done on my book, so I gave up. I went inside and got the journal, which is what I’d wanted all along.

I hadn’t written in it much this summer. It wasn’t that Amanda wasn’t on my mind or even that I was running out of things I wanted to say to her. It was that the blank pages in the journal were dwindling, and I was becoming very discriminating about what I wrote now. I wanted these last pages to count.

But even though I had nothing earth-shattering to share this morning, I still wanted to write something. It was her first day of her senior year of high school.

Oh, I knew I could be off. She had one of those birthdays on the cusp of school rules. Maybe her parents held her back an extra year and she wouldn’t graduate until next year, or maybe she was a prodigy and had started school early. Heck, if she was an academic prodigy, she could be in college already. But after consulting about summer birthdays with Coop under the guise of using it for a book—which I did, so that wasn’t a lie—I was pretty sure I was correct and this was her final year of high school.

The schoolyard was quiet now, except for an occasional straggler. I picked up the journal.

Dear Amanda,

It’s the first day of school here and my thoughts are on you. You’ll be a senior this year.

What if you were here and we were talking in person? What sort of advice would I give you?

I guess I’d have to say my biggest advice would be, don’t be in a hurry for this year to pass. It will do that in its own time. So enjoy the moments. Enjoy your classes and your classmates. Enjoy the sense of possibility in all the things that will follow high school. The world is your oyster. I’m not sure why that’s a saying, but it is.

Enjoy this last year of being your parents’ child. When you leave for college, that will change. Oh, you’ll always be their daughter, but you’ll be meeting them as one adult to another.

I know the dynamics of my relationship with my parents changed when I left for OSU.

To be honest, it shifted when I was pregnant. My parents allowed me to decide what to do. They supported me the whole way. And after that, they treated me as an adult. It colored my last years of school.

I hope your year is a happy one and that you savor all the moments and milestones.

Know that you’re in my thoughts, as always.

Love,

Piper

“You’ve got the book out,” Ned said.

I jumped, startled. “I’m going to have to bell you like a cat. You’re too quiet.”

“Ah, so it’s a bear-trap day, huh?” He grinned and leaned against the porch railing.

I closed the journal and walked to the edge of the porch, leaned over, and kissed him. It shouldn’t have seemed novel after all these months, but it did. Novel and wonderful . . . and right.

Every time I was in his arms I wondered why it had taken so long.

I kissed him again just because I could. “Not a bear trap at all.”

He walked around the porch and up the stairs. “I don’t have to be to work for another hour.” It was a statement, but it was laced with suggestion and an invitation.

“Turns out, it’s the first day of school and I can’t work, so I’ve decided to play hooky. The only problem is, I don’t know what to do with myself if I’m not working.”

“I have a suggestion or two,” Ned offered as he led me toward the door. I grabbed the journal and followed him inside, anxious to hear just what he was suggesting.

Maybe I’d make a few suggestions of my own.

Ned and I fell into a new routine as our relationship moved from spring to summer and finally into fall. We walked the dogs. He came with me to weekend meals and picnics at my folks’. And he spent the night at my house more often than at his own.

When he traveled, Princess came to stay with me.

I’d been in other relationships and worried about where they were going or what would happen next, but with Ned, it was as if the friendship that we’d shared for years accommodated the new dimension in our relationship without straining.

I took his advice and didn’t allow myself to ask what if. I lived in the moment and I didn’t worry or try to see into the future.

As the holidays approached, I realized I couldn’t imagine my life without Ned any more. He’d become part of not just the new rhythm of my life, but part of me.

He’d eased his way into every aspect. My mornings now started with him. In the warmer weather, we took our coffee and papers out into the backyard and sat in companionable silence as we passed sections back and forth.

As the weather cooled, we sat at the kitchen table, watching my backyard’s wild landscape shift and alter. Leaves fell, flowers died back, birds came more frequently to the feeders.

When fall gave way to winter and it started to snow, our relationship showed no signs of ebbing. Ned and I started our days with snow shovels in hand. Occasionally shovels gave way to snowballs. Mrs. W. came out after one particularly rambunctious fight and rather than scold us about the racket we were making, she threw two snowballs of her own . . . and hit us both.

Turned out, Mrs. W. had a good arm for an eighty-something-year-old.

Then she invited us in for hot chocolate and thanked us for the umpteenth time for taking care of her sidewalk and drive.

I told her that’s what neighbors do.

She assured me that not all of them do and I thought that was a shame.

Christmas arrived early, though I ignored the too-early decorations and waited to begin my personal celebration until after Thanksgiving.

I’d always adored the season. It was as if for a short span of weeks every year, people remembered to be kind to one another. Donations came in at Amanda’s Pantry. People asked to volunteer.

People smiled, despite the record snowfalls.

Christmas music played nonstop on the radio.

I love Christmas, but this year more than most. I knew the difference was Ned.

I’d spent Christmases with him before, but this was the first time we were together. It was the first Christmas that he was my
boyfriend
.

I used the word for lack of a better one, but it felt way too high-school-ish, and really didn’t do justice to how I felt about Ned.

Not that either of us had put our feelings into words.

I didn’t feel rushed or pressured. I was sure of my feelings and felt confident in his for me. Whatever this stage of our relationship was called, it was good.

The only fly in my ointment was what to get him for Christmas.

I went round and round about what to buy him.

I went shopping with Cooper and with Mom. I found a lot of things I thought he’d like. I bought an antique toy detective kit at one of Mom’s favorite antique stores. I bought him a sweater and a new series of mystery novels. He wasn’t much of a reader, but I couldn’t imagine buying someone gifts that didn’t include a book or two.

Still, I looked for that one special present.

And then it hit me.

I laughed with relief, and wondered why it took me so long to find the present. It was simple and perfect.

On Christmas morning, I woke up first, grabbed my ratty black cable-knit sweater that I wore instead of a bathrobe and tiptoed out of the room.

A few years ago, my mom had bought me some buffalo plaid flannel pajama pants. I’d worn them for the holiday and caught sight of them when I plugged in the tree. They were starting to wear a bit thin but were still my favorite pajama pants.

Both dogs followed me down. While they were outside, I started coffee and turned on my iPod Christmas playlist.

Steve and Eydie were soon crooning about having a merry Christmas.

Ned walked into the kitchen, pulled me into his arms and sang along as he twirled me around. I laughed, not because it was funny, but because at that moment, I had so much utter joy inside me that it had to go somewhere. A laugh seemed just the thing.

“Merry Christmas,” I said, my head still pressed against his bare chest. Ned wore boxers and padded around the house barefoot while I wore heavy socks and slippers. He never seemed to get cold.

It worked out well for me because he never complained when I stole the covers.

The dogs barked and I reluctantly left his arms to let them in. I handed him a cup of coffee. “That definitely makes it merrier,” he assured me.

After we fed the dogs, we went out to the tree.

“Can I go first?” I asked.

He nodded. I hurried to the small pile of gifts I’d bought him and pulled the smallest box off the top of the pile. “I went round and round about what to buy you.” I handed it to him.

Ned was not a neat paper puller. He tore through the pretty wrapping and tossed it on the floor. Princess pounced on it, assuming he’d meant it for her, and Bruce opened one eye, then shut it after deciding paper wasn’t something worth waking up for.

Ned opened the box. He pulled out the key on the Star Trek Enterprise key ring. The key ring was an extra little bit of fun for the gift.

Ned looked at me with questions in his eyes.

“It’s a key to my house,” I explained.

“Pip, I already have a key to your house,” he said, obviously still confused. “I’ve had it since shortly after I moved in next door.”

“No, you have
myyyyy
,” I dragged out and put a heavy emphasis on the word
my
, “emergency set of keys that I store at your house. This is
your
key to my house. What I’m saying is you can come and go as you please . . . and I hope you please often.”

Understanding dawned in his eyes. He leaned forward and kissed me. I kissed him back.

I’d never given Anthony a key.