Claire Knows Best (12 page)

“Surely a guy wouldn’t start climbing a half-uprooted tree if he didn’t know what he was doing, right?”

“Presumably.”

I pull the van out of my driveway without a lot of confidence. But by the time I get back around four that afternoon, I’m
pleasantly surprised to find that they are all but gone. I’ve already dropped Linda off at home so I don’t have my moral support,
but it appears as if all is going according to plan. Another truck has been added to the mix and is removing the tree from
the street, where the crane has placed all the branches.

I’m careful of the crane as I walk toward the truck, where Roy is still watching the entire process. “How’s it going?” I ask
when he sees me and meets me across the yard.

“Good. We’re just about done.”

Fantastic. I go back to the van and grab my checkbook as the crane pulls away from the yard and chugs down the road. “Soon
as Ralph there has the branches all picked up, we’ll be ready to leave.”

We stand, silently watching the grapple truck picking up branches. “So, who you hiring to fix the roof and walls?” He slugs
down a mouthful of coffee from a to-go cup.

“Milton Travis.”

The coffee goes flying across my yard.

“What?” I ask.

“You already hired Milt, have ya?”

“Pretty much. My boyfriend recommended him. I agreed to hire him as soon as the tree was removed.”

“That right?” He shakes his head, and I don’t find this comforting in the least.

“Why do you ask, Roy? Isn’t Milt any good?”

“Well, now. It’s not Christian of me to speak poorly of someone. But if I was you, I wouldn’t let him get started on this.
I’d hire someone more reliable.” He lifts the bill of his cap and swipes at the sweat on his brow with the back of his hand.
“My boy Edgar never was much one for tree moving, but he’s done right good for himself at construction.”

“I see.” Perfectly clearly. Roy wants me to keep all the money for this job in his family. Yeah, okay. Thanks but no thanks,
Roy.

I dazzle him with my brightest smile. “Well, like I said, I’ve already verbally agreed to hire Milt. I wouldn’t feel right
going back on my word. I hope you understand.”

“Suit yourself.”

I try to ignore my growing sense of dread about Milt, but sheesh.

I open the door of the new place and watch the kids’ faces as one by one they step through ahead of me. I don’t know what
I was hoping for, but these looks of confusion and dread aren’t even close to how I thought they’d react.

Jake slides into home plate right in front of the entertainment center and opens the bottom drawers. “Where’s my Nintendo?”
Well, okay. That actually
is
how I expected Jakey to react. He’s predictably one-track minded. About once every six weeks to two months, I restrict him
from all electronic games for a week or so. Breaks the addiction for a while. After a tough first day of withdrawal, he always
seems to find other occupiers.

“Come on, Jake,” I say, walking in behind everyone and shutting the door. “Don’t you want to see your new room?”

“Temporary room,” Ari says. “Right?”

“Yes.” I turn my attention to Tommy. He’s leaning against a bare wall holding his skateboard like a security blanket. “Listen,
Toms, you won’t be able to do your skateboard out here on the sidewalks or parking lots.”

Horror narrows his eyes. “What do you mean? I have to practice.”

“I’m sorry. The complex has rules against skateboarders.”

“That bites!” he grinds out. “I might as well tell Shane to find someone else to sponsor, Mom. If I can’t practice, I’m going
to lose all my form.”

“Can’t you practice over at The Board?” I ask, thinking it’s an excellent question. “It’s only for a few weeks at the most.”

“I guess. If you’ll drive me over there.”

“I don’t mind driving him when you’re busy, Mom.” Ari’s generosity as usual astounds me. Not.

She gets what she deserves: a wide, knowing grin from me and a pat on the head as though she’s a six-year-old. “Nice try.
If only you weren’t grounded from the keys.”

“Even in an emergency?” Her wide-eyed innocence is truly moving.

“I seriously doubt you’re going to have to deal with any emergencies when I won’t be around to do the driving.” I turn to
my middle boy. “What do you think of our temporary place, Shawn?”

Relief washes over his face and I know instantly what’s in my boy’s heart. I wrap my arms around him. “I’m glad we’re all
together again,” I say.

“Yeah, I guess it’s okay,” Tommy concedes. “As long as we don’t have to do it for very long.”

Jakey’s plugging in all the cords to hook up his game. “What do you say, Jakey? This place going to work for you?”

“Yeah, I like it.”

I can’t help but smile. I turn to Ari. “How about you? Can you live with it for a couple of months?”

“I don’t mind it,” Ari says graciously. Then she gives me an impish grin. “This is the apartment complex most of the college
kids live in.”

Too bad I didn’t check into that before I signed the three-month lease. Suddenly that makes sense, too. A three-month lease
isn’t real common. But if a student—or a group of students, most likely, for a three-bedroom townhouse like this one—were
going home for summer break, it would make sense to allow a short lease.

I have a feeling I’m going to be busy all summer keeping a close eye on my girl. Oy.

I settle in that evening, more than ready for my call with Emma. I can’t wait to open up about Ari and Rick. And this dinky
apartment with vibrating walls from the loud music next door.

She picks up on the third ring, sounding a little breathless. “Hello?”

“Emma? This is Claire Everett. Did I get our appointment time wrong?”

“Oh, Claire! No. No, you’re right on time. I’m sorry to sound so frazzled. I was just finishing up with another client.” Her
voice cracks a little.

“Is everything okay?”

“Of course.” She pauses a minute and I hear her swallow as though she’s just gulped a mouthful of water or something. “Tell
me about your week.”

She seems normal now. Or as normal as I know her to be, and at a hundred and thirty dollars per session, there aren’t too
many minutes to waste. I lie back on my couch and begin by spilling out my discontent over my dinner at Rick’s. “I’m feeling
undermined,” I complain. “As though I was being usurped just because I’ve been temporarily displaced.”

“It sounds as though you made the right choice in finding an apartment and moving your children back in with you.”

Okay, it’s good that she said that, because I was starting to have second thoughts. Guilty thoughts about how I was selfish
to bring my kids to an apartment complex when they could be living in a nice home in an upscale neighborhood.

I force myself back to the one-hundred-thirty-dollars-per-session giver of advice. She’s rambling whether I’m listening or
not, so I best keep my attention focused. “You should see a bit of normalcy return soon. Everyone will revert back to their
roles. Rick will again be their father but not their primary caregiver, and the kids will settle into their new environment.
And I suspect you will be able to relax now that you have your children around you again.”

I could swear I hear her voice crack again. “Emma, you okay?”

She clears her throat in a manner I can only assume is an effort to regain composure and that doesn’t exactly reassure me.
“If you need me to reschedule, I’d be happy to call back some other time. Or just add the last ten minutes to my next session
if you want.”

“I assure you, everything is fine. How about talking about Greg?”

It doesn’t take much for me to open up here. I give her the history of my relationship with Greg. When I get to the part where
he proposed the night of the storm, I’m certain I can hear her sigh. Or is she yawning?

“He sounds like a great guy. What do you think is holding you back from committing to him?”

“Oh, I’m committed. I just feel like I need to have some structure back in my life before I agree to marriage.”

“I see.”

Oh, I hate that. I hate it when people think they see things about me that they don’t.

“Look, I’m not afraid to commit, okay? I am committed to a relationship with him.”

“I believe you.”

“No, you don’t. Look, he wants to be an associate pastor.”

“And how do you feel about that?” Oh man, what is she, a shrink or a life coach? Still, I force myself to calm down and just
try to answer the question. After all, isn’t this what the sessions are all about? I gather a deep breath. “I think Greg will
be amazing as an associate pastor. He’s warm and wise, and God has truly gifted him for ministry.”

She stays silent. Am I supposed to keep talking without a response, or did she fall asleep? “Emma?”

“I’m still here, Claire. I don’t think you’re finished. What do you think about his becoming an associate pastor?”

I let out a breath. “I’m not sure what my place is going to be in that part of his life.”

I hear a ding in the background and I know my time is up.

“Claire, this week I want you to concentrate on how you are feeling. Journal each night and be very honest.”

“All right.”

“Remember, if you should need to talk through the week, I’m available for more sessions.”

“Thanks.” At a hundred and thirty bucks a pop, I think I’ll just hold it all in and unload once a week.

Greg’s face lights up when he sees me walk into Red Lobster for our dinner date. This is the first time we’ve been out in
the two weeks since the tornado, and not only do I need some time to de-stress, I just need to spend the evening alone with
him. He’s sitting in the waiting area, but stands as soon as I wade through the other customers waiting for a table.

My heart does a loop-de-loop when he bends forward and brushes his warm lips against my cheek. “Our table should be ready
soon.” He leads me to a couch, where we sit shoulder to shoulder. I relish the scent of his cologne (Polo, which I love as
long as it’s not overdone).

Our hands are laced and resting on my crossed knee. He runs his thumb along the back of my hand and leans closer. “So, what
have you heard from the contractor?” His voice is soft and his lips are next to my ear. The room is buzzing, but I think he
does it to be closer to me. And I’m not complaining. Believe me!

“Not a word since a week ago.” I hate to admit it, but I’m starting to worry.

“And you gave him how much up front?”

“Ten thousand dollars.” A third of the estimate. “He said it was standard.”

“Could be. But I think we need to start making some phone calls if you don’t hear from him by Monday.”

“I agree.”

The hostess calls for us, and Greg and I exchange a smile as we stand. Funny how the smallest things mean so much. A touch
here. A smile there. Just that sense of belonging to someone. I’ve been thinking a lot about my relationship with Greg lately,
and I’ve come to the conclusion that he’s worth giving up the remote control for. And if I have to do laundry for two extra
people, that’s worth it, too. After all, I’ll have someone to take care of the cars and make sure the garbage is on the curb
for the trash collectors each week.

I don’t know. I’m starting to think it would be really great to have a partner in life.

We sit in a quiet little booth out of the way of traffic, for which I’m grateful. I hate getting seated close to the kitchen
doors. After we give our drink orders, Greg takes my hands across the table. “It’s nice to have you all to myself for a while.”
He’s not kidding! I feel the same way. “I have something important to tell you.”

My heart picks up because I’ve decided if he asks me to marry him again, I’m going to say yes. No more lack of commitment
for this chick. I’m ready to take that plunge.

“Look, Claire, you know how much I love you…”

Yes, yes.

“Diet Coke?”

Huh? Stupid waitress. Leave the Coke and go. I sit back and force a smile as she sets down my soda and Greg’s iced tea. “Thank
you,” I say in my polite voice.

“Are you ready to order?” she asks, her smile looking a bit stretched. I know how she feels.

“Uh, we haven’t looked at the menu yet.”

I’ve been a waitress so I know she’s just doing her job. But doggone it. Leave already.

Greg smiles at her, and I see her melt a little. I know some women get jealous when other women flirt with their guys, but
not me. I figure as long as he’s not flirting back (and Greg’s never done that), then it’s really a compliment to me that
other women find him attractive. Right? Or is that weird?

“We don’t want to throw you behind schedule,” he says, “but we haven’t had a chance to spend time together in a couple of
weeks and we have a lot of catching up to do. Would you mind coming back in about fifteen minutes? By then we should be ready.
I promise we won’t complain about slow service.”

She giggles, and a blush spreads across her face. “I’ll hold you to that.” She gives him a light tap on the shoulder. Okay,
that raises an involuntary eyebrow. Flirting is one thing. Touching is quite another. I’m about to hop out of the booth and
slam her to the ground when she sends me a “keep this one” wink and walks away.

I sip my Diet Coke and then slip my hands back in Greg’s.

“As I was saying,” he says with a smile, “you know how much I love you.”

“Yes. I love you, too.”

He raises my hands and brushes a kiss across my knuckles—first the left hand, then the right. “I’ve been thinking a lot about
your reasoning for not wanting to marry me yet.”

Reasons? What reasons? I know of no reasons why we shouldn’t be wed.

“Yeah, about that, Greg—”

“Let me finish, okay? I just need to say this while I have the courage.”

I know how hard it is for a man to propose when he isn’t sure what the answer will be, so I admire him. I zip my lip, determined
that I’m not going to interrupt him until it’s time for me sit trembling ever so slightly while a single tear of joy slips
down my alabaster cheek (okay, it’s
my
fantasy moment—I can have an alabaster cheek if I want to) and falls onto the teardrop-shaped solitaire he’s just placed
on the third finger of my left hand.