Saving Toby (8 page)

Like she was telling me a secret, Marie leaned in and
whispered, “And not to mention, he’s quite easy on the eyes.”

Her naughty admission made me grin.

“I’d love to stay and chat, but I need to tend my charge.
One cannot question the Good Lord’s ways, but do our best to comfort a friend
in need. I’ll be here for another hour if you need me.” As Marie began to walk
away, she left me with a final sentiment, “What you’re doing is lovely, dear.”

She stepped inside, and I got back to shoveling. I thought
about Mrs. Faye’s heart condition, another of a growing list of crosses to bear.
She was truly an amazing woman. I felt thankful for the opportunity to work
with and for her. I prayed that she soon recovered her health.

I kept working until I saw Toby come into the yard. Wearing
a white undershirt and the appliance store’s grey uniform pants, his work shirt
thrown over his shoulder, he stopped and eyed me.

“Nice view.”

With a sigh, I raised my eyes. “Friends don’t say that sort
of thing to one another.”

He came over and purposely bumped my shoulder with his. “Who
said I was talking about you? I mean, look at this yard.” With his hand, he
made a sweeping gesture over the sad space. “It’s a paradise.”

When he turned to look at me, the blue of his irises were an
unusual color. In the sunlight, they were so pale they appeared almost
iridescent.

“You have pretty eyes.”

The compliment rolled off my tongue without any thought. It
seemed to catch him off guard, too.

“You like my eyes?” he asked, a definite rise of interest.

The back of my neck prickled with unease. I couldn’t let
this get weird between us. I bowed my head and returned to my digging. “Yes,
they’re nice. Now, how about grabbing a shovel and helping me?”

Toby ignored the other shovel, though, and started moving
towards the deck steps. “I will, but first, me and
pretty
eyes are going
inside to check in with the lieutenant up in command central.”

“Please tell the lieutenant I’ll stop in to say hello before
I leave,” I said.

He saluted me. “Will do.”

A little while later, he came back wearing faded jeans
ripped at the knees and a black tee shirt. With a toothpick in his mouth, he
traded me a new bottle of cold water for the shovel. Taking over, he began to
dig.

I watched for a few moments before I said, “I just found out
about your mother’s heart condition. Is it serious?”

“Who’d you hear that from? Mrs. Doubtfire?” Seeming
unconcerned, he continued shoveling.

“Mrs. Doubtfire?” I eyed him. “Marie told me.”

“Yeah, her. Euphegenia Doubtfire. Doesn’t Marie look like
Robin Williams in a wig to you?” Toby perfectly mimicked the famous, “Hellooo!”

“Oh, my God, yes!” I giggled.

“But to answer your question,” he said, and stopped digging,
“you have to understand something. Julia is defective … maybe the result of
poor wiring, some faulty chromosomes, or something irreparable. She’s always
sick — anemia, low blood sugar, poor circulation ... She’s been afflicted with
just about every ailment under the sun. Pretty much her whole life.”

“I had no idea.”

“Yeah, well, the heart thing is just another one of her
background conditions. It’s all about the cancer right now. If she survives
this, she’ll probably outlive us all.”

“Oh,” I mumbled. “Marie made it sound like...”

“Marie’s a busy body. Likes to hear herself talk.” Toby said
the words without anger, despite the dig at Marie.

 “Seems she
also
likes you.” I tried to lighten the
mood. “Said you were easy on the eyes.”

“Hey, we need the help, so I do what I can to keep those
women coming back. I’m always polite, but I got them figured out,” Toby said,
with an air of knowing. “Mrs. D and the rest of those church ladies are all
about the eye-candy. Every so often, I walk around without my shirt on.”

About to pick up a shovel, I burst out laughing.

“You are a real piece of work.”

He grinned and said, “Thanks.”

I had a feeling Toby would keep me amused all week.

“Euphegenia. What a name,” I mused, tickled that he
remembered it.

“I’ll score a copy of the movie so we can watch it together
sometime.” The offer was casual.

“Sure. Sounds like fun,” I replied, certain it would never
happen.

Our project continued the next day much like the first. Toby
came home, changed clothes, and met me in the yard with a bottle of water in
hand. He gnawed a toothpick as he worked.

Ripping open a bag of peat moss, he asked, “Where do you
want this, Claude?”

“Here,” I pointed at my feet. “And I prefer to be called
Claud-
dia
.”

“Okay, Claude.” When I sighed, he just smiled and emptied
the bag, before picking up his shovel again. “You are
so
serious. You’re
allowed to have some fun, you know.”

“I am having fun. I’m always happy when I plan something and
accomplish it.”

He chuckled and rested his hands on the handle. “Wow, such a
life of purpose.”

I stopped shoveling. Self-conscious, I raised my eyes to his
face. “Does that make me seem weird?”

He shrugged. “Nah. Just focused, I suppose.”

“What about you? What kind of things do you want to
accomplish?”

“Gonna climb Mount Everest, but only after I learn to speak
Mandarin and recite the alphabet backwards twenty times in under one minute,”
he smiled. “World record on that last one.”

“You’re insane.” I shook my head. “Seriously, you’re not
going back to Florida, are you?”

He stopped and eyed me before answering. “Julia told you I
was in Florida?”

I nodded.

“Nah, I’m not going back there. Too hot. But as soon I can,
I’m getting the hell out of
here
.” He stomped heavily on the butt of the
shovel blade, and it disappeared into the dirt.

“Why?” I watched him maneuver a heavy load of soil with
ease.

“'Cause unlike you, I don’t have a plan.”

“You could take a few liberal arts classes at Suffolk
Community,” I offered, thinking I could help Mrs. Faye out by touting the
benefits of staying home. “Maybe you’ll find something that interests you. How
about criminal justice?”

“School has never been my thing.” He shook his head. “And
the law, even less.”

“There are lots of career offerings. You need to explore the
options,” I insisted.

“I am exploring the options. In other cities. In other
states.” He dropped the shovel, ripped open the last bag of topsoil, and dumped
it. “What about you? You said you applied for a transfer. Where did you apply
to?”

“I’m pretty much set to go to University of Southern California.”

He blew a low whistle. “Maybe we’re not so different after
all. Even you want to get far away from this place.”

“I picked USC because my mother is in San Diego. I’m
not
trying to get away from Sayville. I love it here.”

“What could you possibly love about this place? Around here,
we’re all labeled, classified in one of two groups. Group one is the bunch that
makes the big bucks, like Jim Ryan’s family—people with six-figure incomes. If
you’re
unfortunate
enough to be in group two, you’re pretty much
invisible.”

“I think you’re generalizing. I never felt invisible.”

“That’s because
you’re
in group one, Claude. Your dad
is
a Suffolk County cop.”

Dad was well paid, but not wanting to get into a financial
discussion, I digressed. “But still, there’s a great sense of community here.
People actually envy me when I tell them where I live.”

“If you love it so much, why do you want to leave?”

“I need to put space between my father and me,” I said, bending
to incorporate the new soil into the garden.

“Officer Chiametti isn’t an easy guy to live with?”

I nodded. It was no secret. Anyone who knew my father knew
he was intense. “I admire him and all, but I can’t breathe without him wanting
to know the details. He is suspicious of everybody. He didn’t even want me to
work here, for your mom. You’d think I was coming to work for a hardened
criminal,” I said.

Toby didn’t respond right away. He pushed around the dirt
without any real effort and said, “My brother is as ‘hardened’ a criminal as
they come. He killed someone. It makes sense that your dad would be concerned.”

“Yes, I guess you’re right.” Embarrassed by my slip, I kept
talking to move past it. “But his concern is always over the top. He knows
there’s no real danger here
anymore
, but he never trusts anyone or
anything. Living with him sometimes feels like walking a tightrope—watching
every little step, trying to avoid fallout. I’m sure that’s why my parents got
divorced.”

“I didn’t know your parents divorced,” he said.

“I was seventeen,” I explained to him. “My parents wanted
more kids, but my mom miscarried a couple times before they gave up. Once I
started school, my mother tried to play house for a while, but she claims she
was never cut out for that life. She wanted a career. They clashed over it. I
don’t blame her for getting out. I won’t let him bully me like that either.”

“Too bad he didn’t learn to back off after your mother left.
'Cause it only makes sense now that you’re old enough, you’d abandon ship,
too,” he said.

Abandon
. The word hit me with unexpected force and burned
like acid in my heart. For a brief moment, my mouth twitched, and I was unsure
if I should growl or cry. I let the shovel fall to the ground and drifted over
to the deck steps.

“Whoa. Touchy subject.” Toby followed as I folded myself
down onto the bottom step and pressed my forehead to my knees. A moment later, he
sat down next to me.

I kept my eyes cast down. “I know it may not sound like it,
but my mom didn’t abandon him. Or me. And me going away is because
I want
this
and not because I want to hurt my father,” I said, feeling a need to
explain it to him.

“Sorry, it was a stupid thing to say.” Toby rubbed a
knuckle, the only clean part of his hand, up my arm.

He couldn’t have known how talking about this would affect
me—he didn’t know how I battled with this very thing. “It’s not your fault. I
just don’t want to feel guilty about going to California.”

“Then don’t. Don’t feel guilty.”

“That’s easy for you to say. Your mother willingly let you
go when you wanted to leave.”

“She really didn’t have a choice,” he said. “Don’t let your
dad hold you here. Do what you want to do. Go.”

I raised my head and looked at him. Even though I didn’t
feel as sure as I would have liked to, I said, “I will.”

Our eyes held for a long moment, and a swirl of current passed
between us. It made my toes curl. He leaned towards me. I had a feeling he was
going to kiss me. Though I suspected it would feel nice, I swallowed hard and
quickly looked away.

“Let’s finish up here.”

12. Claudia

After classes on Thursday, I stopped at the garden center to
select flowers and headed over the Fayes’ house. I stopped inside to visit with
Mrs. Faye before getting dirty.

She was in the den sitting on the couch looking over a
catalog with her sister. The scene was so ordinary, but not something I’d seen
her do before, and it cheered me.

“How’s the project going? Has Toby been helpful?” Mrs. Faye
asked.

“It’s going great, and Toby has been terrific,” I said.
“Couldn’t have done it without him.”

“For someone who’s never shown any interest before, I’ve
never seen him so anxious to get out in that yard,” Mrs. Faye bubbled with
delight. Her laughter was like the ringing of tiny bells; it was such a happy
sound.

“You know what Momma used to say, Julia. ‘The twist of a
woman’s hair…’ A pretty girl can get boys to do many things he wouldn’t
normally do.”

The sisters exchanged knowing looks, and my cheeks flushed
at the insinuation.

When I got back outside, Toby was already in the yard,
raking out one of the older flowerbeds, clearing it of the snarls of leaves
that impeded the perennials planted there. At the sound of the sliding door, he
turned to me and smiled. Before he could speak, his phone rang. He eyed the
caller ID with a frown and held up a finger to signal me to hold on.

As I crouched down and began planting the flowers, I watched
him. His face was already tanned, but now it had a new glow from our few days
in the sun. He absently paced the yard while talking, which presented a nice
opportunity to admire him from different angles.

Over the last few days with Toby, I had become an avid fan
of his quirky, conceited humor. As exasperating as he was when he challenged my
opinions, I enjoyed the teasing. I’d laughed so much during the time we spent together.
I liked, too, that he had a warm, sincere side. His compassion during my
meltdown tugged at my heart, and, even if it were, as his Aunt Joan said, a
‘twist of my hair,’ his interest in my gardening project impressed me.

I only wished he were a different kind of guy—one with a
more deliberate focus and less cynical outlook on life.

A few minutes later, Toby finished his call and got down on
his hands and knees next to me to help finish planting the rest of the flowers.

“Bad news?” I asked about the phone call.

He shrugged. “It was Dev. He’s been trying to kiss and make
up with me. I guess cracking his head didn’t get my message across.”

“And?”

“And nothing,” Toby replied, aloof. “I told you, I’m done
with him.”

“Good,” was all I said. I was relieved.

“I’m glad you think so, cause now you’re stuck with me.” He
stood and gathered the shovels to take them back into the barn. “You’re
officially my new best friend.”

“Lucky me,” I mocked, goading him to a humorous scowl.

He went to the barn and came back carrying a coiled watering
hose. Unrolling it, he handed me the end. I pulled the trigger on the rusted
old nozzle. It worked. And leaked. A steady stream rained down on my sneakers.

“Great! I’m getting my feet watered, too.”

“After this, we’ll both need to be hosed down.” He showed me
his blackened hands. His tee shirt and face were smudged with dirt stains, too.

I smiled. “I can help with that.” Aiming the hose, I soaked
the whole front of his shirt.

“Hey!” He laughed covering his face. Taking the full blast
of the spray, he closed the distance between us and easily pulled the hose from
my hands. I yelped and ran away, but not before he wet down the top of my head
and the back of my shirt with icy cold water. When he finally turned off the
spray, we were both sopping wet and breathless with laughter.

“So, now that we’re done,” Toby said, sitting on the deck
steps and yanking off his muddy work boots, “can I bring Julia out?”

“Oh, yes!” I nodded, eager for her to see our efforts.

Minutes later, Toby held his mother’s hand as he steered her
outside. Stooping forward, Mrs. Faye stepped out onto the deck. “You’re done
already?”

“Yep.” Toby used his free arm to motion to the flowerbed.
“Your paradise, madam.”

I stepped behind her to see the yard from her point of view.
The emerging green perennials in the outlying beds could now be clearly seen
where Toby had raked them, further complimenting our new, colorful flowerbed.

“Oh, my,” Mrs. Faye took my hand and clutched it to her
while she leaned forward to admire the new plantings. “The yard looks so beautiful.”
She turned to face us, her watery eyes large in her thin face. “You don’t know
what this means to me. God bless you both.” As weak as she was, her smile was
so beautiful, my chest felt like it just might burst.

Toby walked his mother back into the house and returned
several minutes later, having washed up and put on a clean tee shirt.

“Sorry if Julia’s gushing was a little much.” He leaned
against the deck rail.

“No, not at all.” I shook my head. “I love your mom.”

“Yeah, and it’s clear she thinks you’re ‘all that.’ You got
a framed five by seven of yourself for her night table?” he asked, crossing his
arms.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of making you share that spot with me.
I’ll give her an eight by ten for her dresser.”

“Whoa, a whole lot of ‘tude,’ to go with the sweetness.
That’s pretty hot.” Chuckling, he walked over to the barbeque grill near the
back of the house, and lifted the hood. “How about something to eat? Julia
wants me to feed you.”

“The question is, can you feed me?” I eyed him skeptically.

“What?” Toby feigned surprise. “You doubt my culinary
skills?”

“Well, frankly, yes. You don’t seem like the cooking type.”

“Stick around, I will amaze you.” He gave me a positively
smug grin and then, wire brush in hand, began scrubbing the metal grill.

“Amaze away, Master Chef Faye. Meanwhile, I need to wash up
and call home.”

“You know where the bathroom is. I left a clean shirt on the
counter in case you want to change.”

“Thanks.” I liked that he’d thought to offer me one of his
shirts. I went inside and took it off the counter. In the bathroom, I sniffed
it, trying to catch that familiar musky scent.

No trace.

I washed my face and did the best I could to get the dirt
out from under my nails. Toby’s shirt was a lightweight button up and hung
loosely on me. I buttoned the first three buttons, and tied the shirttails.
When I left the bathroom and reentered the kitchen, I had to step back as Toby
bustled about, cutting onions and sprinkling spices.

“Here,” he said, taking each of my arms and rolling the
sleeves to fit. I stood patiently, resisting the urge to lean forward and try
to smell him. He looked me over approvingly and then pulled two dishes from a
cabinet and handed them to me.

“Next time, I’ll take you out for dinner.”

“Friends night out?” I asked. “We can ask Dario and April to
come.”

“No friends. You. Me. Date.”

I shook my head. “We’ve been over this.”

“But we have more in common now.” He paused to pick up a
package of hamburger rolls. “We’re not only both Yankee fans, but gardeners.
And Mrs. Doubtfire fans.”

I laughed. “I’m sorry, but I stand firm on the no dating
thing.”

He exhaled at my rejection. “Oh, Claude, you’re killing my
ego.”

I set the outdoor table while Toby was busy at the barbeque,
and then stepped away to call my father. I told him Mrs. Faye had insisted on
feeding me, though I didn’t mention that she wasn’t eating with us. I promised
not to be too late as I had some studying to do anyway.

Our dinner was simple, but good. Burgers, grilled asparagus,
and a pasta salad Toby swore he made, but I knew Marie had brought over.

We sat, we ate, and he continued to make me laugh over and
over again. When we were finished, we cleaned up together and went back outside
to admire our garden. As the sun made its last appearance in the sky, we talked
for a while about our plans for the summer.

He’d been mostly a gentleman the last few days. Though I
remained rigid about controlling our interactions, Toby managed to edge past my
objections and mellow my guard. I liked being in this comfortable place with
him.

When it was time to leave, Toby walked me to the door. He
leaned against the jam, chewing on a toothpick, while I fished my keys out of
my pocketbook.

“The garden was a cool idea. It made Julia pretty happy,” he
said.

“I’m so glad. Maybe we can tackle the front yard next.
Something needs to be done with those bushes.”

“You’re a slave driver, Chiametti. I’ll think about it.” He
flicked his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other.

I pointed at the little wooden stick. “What’s up with your
sudden toothpick obsession? Seriously, I’m going to start calling you Farmer
Joe.”

He laughed, his eyes bright. “I quit smoking.”

It wasn’t until he said this that I realized I hadn’t seen
him with a cigarette all of the last week.

“Wow, I am extremely impressed.”

“Good,” he said. “I quit for you.”

“Really? Why for me?”

He shrugged. “You said you don’t like the smell of
cigarettes.”

“That’s very considerate.”

He tipped his head to one side and smiled playfully. “Would
you still think it was considerate if I told you what I really had in mind was
to get my mouth on you, that I want to know what you taste like?”

I froze.

After a moment, not sure what to make of his comment, I
decided to play it off as another one of his nutty lines. I even managed to
smile.

“Very funny.”

“Oh, Claudia Chiametti, I am so not joking. I really, really
want to kiss you. I can’t think of anything I want more right now.”

Toby moved in close and ran two fingers up my arm. The light
touch flickered inside me like a gentle tickle. Gooseflesh arose on my skin.

“My satisfaction rate is very high. Aren’t you the least bit
interested?” His gaze dropped from my eyes to my mouth.

Despite a growing warmness, I responded without hesitation.
“No.”

He seemed to enjoy my unsettled state. “Everything inside
tells me you want to kiss me. I bet you’ve even imagined it.”

“Then your radar is way off because there’s not an iota of
me interested in you in any other way than as a friend.”

Undaunted, he suddenly pitched forward, positioning his arms
on either side of me and trapping me in the doorway. “I know a quick way to
find out for sure.”

Biting my bottom lip, I glanced around for some space to get
away from what was coming at me. I felt his soft breath caress my face as he
lowered his mouth towards mine.

I squeezed my eyes shut and thought, all right, all right,
let’s get this over with. We’d have this one kiss—then he’d see I was not in
the least interested.

I was not prepared for his gentleness. Cradling my face with
his hands, he pressed his lips to the corner of my mouth. His lips were soft,
tempting. Far more than I could imagine. As I stood still, he worked his way to
center our mouths, his motion deliberate and slow. His efforts grew more
persistent, forcing my lips to mold against his, and once the bond was
complete, he emitted a soft sigh. The sound infused me with a wavering heat,
and my brain felt scrambled. My resistance slackened and, as I swayed into him,
my bag plunked to the floor. I didn’t resist as his arms slid down, around my
waist, and he pulled me up against him.

I tried to muster up the strength to move away, but his lips
continued their intimate exploration, nipping teasingly at mine. His tongue
slid along the seam of my lips, feathering me with a promise of more to come. I
found myself wanting to open my mouth and let him kiss me deeper, but instead,
I twisted my head away.

“Stop.” Despite my demand, I held onto him, fearing my legs
would give out, and I would melt at his feet.

Sighing, he rested his forehead against mine, a smile teasing
the corners of his mouth. “I knew it.”

I closed my eyes for a moment to collect my scattered
thoughts. “I wish you hadn’t done that.”

I tried to step away, but his arm tightened around me.

“That kiss was only the beginning, the fireworks before the
show. Let me loose on you and I’ll make you sing.” With haughty confidence, he
leaned in to kiss me again.

“Don’t.” I turned my face to my shoulder.

“Come on, admit it. That was amazing.” The whisper near my
ear sent more chills up my spine. “Maybe the best first kiss I’ve ever had.”

It
was
the best kiss I’d ever had, and the brief
taste of him made me want more. While it had been exciting, at most, we’d be a
short-term relationship. That was not my thing, and especially not with guys
like him.

“It was a nice kiss,” I admitted. “Our first, and our last.
I’m not interested.”

“Yes, you are,” he gently insisted, nuzzling my cheek. “You
were checking me out all week.”

The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I’d looked too
much, too long.

Feeling sick, I pushed away from him and straightened my
shoulders. “The point is, we don’t mesh. Our lives are on two totally different
planes.”

“I wouldn’t mind floating around in your space for a while.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem—you’re a floating spaceman and I
like gravity.”

“Don’t knock me because I haven’t landed yet. I’m
exploring.” He leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms, and let a slow
grin wind its way across his lips. Even the slight, casual move was somehow
sexually disturbing, and I became annoyed with him.

“Some girls really dig guys who have that edgy,
searching-for-the-meaning-of-life thing going.”

“I don’t find that to be a good quality in a boyfriend. At
least not in someone I’d consider dating. I prefer someone who has an idea of
what they want out of life. So whatever you’re imagining might happen between
us, it won’t.”