The Best I Could (24 page)

“Something I happen
to
like
to do,” I
countered, amused.

Jonathan’s eyes crinkled. “After you, garden
fairy. A gardening center sounds more exciting than watching my
grandfather drink tea.”

Walking past him to the van,
I asked nonchalantly, “Where
is
Eli?”

Jonathan glanced at me, a knowing look in his
eyes. “At the boxing club. He’s been there all day. He’s got a few
hours yet before I’ve got to pick him up.”

Scooting into the driver’s seat, I turned to
watch him climb in, grinning when his nose wrinkled. “It stinks, I
know. Downside to a company vehicle for an animal clinic.” Starting
the car, I backed up and turned into the drive. “Deena started at
the boxing club today.”

“So I hear,” Jonathan replied. “I’ve got dibs
on your sister.”

“Dibs?”

“On who’s going to survive.”

I snorted. “You have so little faith in your
brother as a teacher?”

Jonathan leaned back in the seat, arms
crossed. “I have plenty of faith in Eli, but your sister scares the
shit out of me.”

“She’s fourteen.”

“I know! Imagine how she’s going to be in a
few years.”

I laughed, sobering as silence fell between
us.

“Do you like being here?” I asked. “In this
town?”

He peered out the window. “I guess. I liked
it more when I was a kid. Truth is, Pops is the only one who really
comes here since Grams died … until now. He brought my sister here
a few years back, but that’s it. There’s more to do at my dad’s.
Less drama. But Dad’s been saving up forever to take his girlfriend
to the Maldives for a few weeks, and so I’m here with Mom and
Pops.”

“So,” I stared at the road, “that just opened
up a bevy of questions. You and Eli have a sister?”

“Heather. My older sister, Eli’s younger. She
was born two years after Eli. Mom’s second marriage. Heather has a
place in California where she’s going to school. She comes home for
holidays. That’s about it these days.”

“And you and your father? Where do y’all
live?”

“In Washington, D.C. He teaches there.”

“Oh, wow. No wonder you’re bored here.”

Jonathan glanced at me and grinned. “Even
people from here are bored. Now you. Ever lived anywhere other than
Georgia?”

“Nope.” I shrugged. “You can ask me a hundred
questions, and the only interesting thing you’re going to find out
about me is that I have a tattoo on my ass.”

He blinked, glanced at the window, and then
back at me. “Really?”

“No,” I answered, “but it made you think,
right?”

It also distracted him from asking
questions.

“You should prove it,” Jonathan pointed out.
“You know, show me you’re lying?”

“Head out of the gutter, dude. You need to
give up hanging with the guys in town and find the place with
girls. I suggest any place with optimum tanning opportunities,
pools, and places with good air conditioning at night.”

“I’ll have to ask around.”

We pulled up at the garden center, and I put
the van in park before looking at him. “Thanks for helping.”

He reached for the door handle. “Hey, Tansy,”
he said, capturing my gaze, “hang in there, okay?”

I stared at him. “What made you say
that?”

“Because I think you’ve got a thing for my
brother, and Eli takes patience.”

He was wrong. He had to be. I couldn’t have a
thing for Eli.

Keep lying to yourself, Tansy. See how well
that works out for you.

Eli

The moment I stepped into Rebel’s parking lot
and saw Jonathan’s face, I knew there was trouble.

“We’ve got to stop at
Mildred’s Bakery on the way home. Mom took Pops’ car into town
earlier and still hasn’t made it back. When I ran by the coffee
shop where she was
supposed
to be, they told me she went to
Mildred’s.”

“Shit.” Pulling open the car door, I climbed
inside. “Best case scenario, one of her new meds has given her a
sweet tooth?”

“Most of the time she doesn’t take her meds,”
Jonathan mumbled.

He pulled the car into the road.

“Why are we going after her? She’s been doing
fine on her own for over a year.”

Jonathan glanced at me. “Because she’s been
more depressed than usual, which means she’s apt to look for
attention. Particularly male attention. I don’t know about you, but
I don’t think we need a bigger family.”

“If you’re talking about kids, Mom had her
tubes tied after you, Jon.”

He blanched. “Gross.”

“You brought it up.”

He shrugged. “She’s also got me for the
summer, and Pops doesn’t want her to screw that up.”

I snorted. “I think your dad knows how she is
by now.”

“Okay, well maybe we just don’t want her to
have a spell, you know? In public, especially.”

I had to quit fighting my brother. None of
this was his fault, and I’d promised myself I was going to be less
difficult.

Jonathan clicked on his blinker, squinted at
the window, and then pulled off into a narrow parking lot. A tiny
brick building, painted pink of all colors, was nestled between a
laundromat and a flower shop.

“This is it?” I asked.

“Looks a little mundane for Mom, right?”

Pushing open the door, I climbed out and
glanced into the car. “I’ve got this. You keep the car
running.”

Jonathan eyed me,
suspicious. “Maybe
you
should keep the car running. You’re just going to make it
worse.”

“Trust me. I did this for years before I
started pissing her off.”

He took his hands off of the steering wheel.
“Fine, but stick with the pre-pissed off Eli and not the
post-pissed off one, okay?”

Grinning, I slammed the door and sauntered
toward the bakery.

Warm, sugar-scented air hit me as soon as I
pulled open the door. Glassed-in shelves lined the interior.
Donuts, cookies, cupcakes, and bonbons peeked at me from within. A
ceiling fan whirred, wobbling with each circuit. A mix-matched
assortment of tables were strewn over a scarred black and white
tiled floor. If it weren’t for the floors, the bakery would have
looked regrettably like treats swimming inside an inflated, pink
antacid-filled stomach.

Sitting at one of the tables, her hand
clasped inside of a middle-aged man’s palms was my mother.

“Catch you at a bad time?” I asked,
approaching them slowly.

Mom looked up, her face beaming. “Eli! Where
in earth did you come from?” She threw a smile at the man across
from her. “Eli, this is Gary.”

I barely acknowledged the man. “Her son.”

Gary’s gaze shot up, his hands dropping away
from Mom’s. “You didn’t say anything about children.”

From the oil-splattered button-up shirt he
wore, his name stitched on the pocket, I took it he either worked
with cars or the gas industry. Which would be admirable, except Mom
liked her men a little rough around the edges. It didn’t matter
what they did for a living, she always found the one most likely to
succeed in prison. Hell, my father had started out in medicine.
Jonathan’s dad, Dean, had been the only exception. Dean was decent,
which meant Mom was in a slump when she found him. Or
desperate.

Mom frowned. “Is that a problem?”

This promised to be an hour long debacle full
of running mascara.

“Let me make this easy,” I said, taking Mom’s
elbow gently in my hand. “She’s got three kids. Her youngest is
sixteen. All different fathers. If you’re interested, I can write
down a number where you can reach her. If not, then our best bet is
to leave now.”

Gary pushed his chair back. “I’ve got to be
at work early tomorrow,” he sputtered, edging away from the
table.

Mom glared at me. “Was that necessary?”

The door to the bakery opened and closed,
leaving us alone in the antacid whale, the fan above us in danger
of falling with each rotation.

“How long have you known him?” I asked.

“Met him an hour ago,” she informed me. “Nice
guy, too. He was getting coffee, and I was chatting with someone
who knew him when he came in.”

What I wanted to say
was,
“They’re all nice guys,
Mom.”

What I really said was, “Only an hour? Good.
Then we haven’t hit the commitment stage. Let’s go. I’m sure Pops
is wondering where his car is.”

Mom looked like she was on the verge of
arguing, glanced around the room, and then simply said, “Okay.”

It was too easy.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

Her lips trembled, but she didn’t cry. “Of
course, I am!” she snapped. “I was flirting a little. That’s all.
I’m not looking for anything serious.”

Flirting sounded much better than admitting
she was looking for a quick lay.

Tamping down all of the frustration I’d been
feeling over the past year, I pulled Mom closer and nodded at the
display cases. “Do you want anything?”

Two women watched us from behind the counter,
half hidden by the back room, as if they couldn’t decide whether
they should offer us help or leave us alone.

“We have amazing pecan pie,” one of the
women, young with black hair and dark eyes, said carefully. She was
pretty, her gaze taking me in, an interested smile on her face.

Mom shook her head, her eyes on me. “Why are
you being so nice?” Suspicion clogged her voice.

I ushered her toward the door. “I’m trying,
so don’t push it, okay?”

We broke out of the pink room into an
afternoon full of deepening oranges and yellows.

A car door opened, and Jonathan stepped free
of the Porsche. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, Jon,” Mom assured
impatiently. “I just lost track of time. Are you boys hungry? Do
you want to go for food?”

Jon and I stared at each other over Mom’s
head.

“Maybe we should just get something to go,” I
suggested. “It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah,” Jonathan agreed, “and I’m pretty sure
Pops has already called something in. I’ve got plans later, so we
better get his car back.”

“I’ll drive it.” My gaze slid to Mom. “The
keys?”

She stared, horrified. “You can’t drive right
now!”

“Ivy, it’s fine,” I soothed. “You ride with
Jonathan, and he can follow me back to the orchard.”

“I’ll keep close to him,” Jonathan
promised.

Mom fidgeted, her gaze flicking between us.
Our shoulders tensed, prepared for battle, but in the end, Mom
reached for the purse hanging from her shoulder, pulled out a set
of keys, and handed them to me.

Pops drove an old powder blue 1970’s Camaro,
and I slid behind the wheel, adjusting the leather seat before
glancing into the rearview mirror at Jonathan’s car.

He made sure Mom got in before he walked to
the driver’s side, throwing me a wave.

Pulling out of the parking lot, I navigated
the streets, keeping just under the speed limit until I reached the
back roads, my gaze flicking occasionally to check on Jonathan. Mom
was talking animatedly in the passenger seat, and I could tell by
the look on his face that it was her usual barrage of words.

I switched on the radio, and an old country
song started to play, one of those sad ones about losing
everything. Surprisingly, I didn’t turn it off. Somehow it seemed
to fit. Not the mood, maybe, but the road. The hot night and
trilling bugs outside. Trees blurred past, shadows chasing us to
the orchard.

The animal hospital van was parked in the
drive when I pulled in.

Tansy walked around it, opening the door, and
the interior lights popped on. The parts of her hair dyed red were
beginning to fade, hints of blonde showing through. Like always,
her eyes were lined in dark eyeliner, a black tank top and an old
pair of cut-off shorts hugging her figure.

Deena’s words,
“
she was beautiful”
, rang through my head, and I stared at her, at the graceful
curve of her neck, her smooth, unblemished face, and the way her
ass filled out her shorts. She was beautiful
now
. I hadn’t known her then, but this
darker beauty was captivating in a way that made my body
tighten.

“Hey,” I called out, climbing out of the
Camaro.

She backed away from the van, just long
enough to catch my eye. “Hey,” she responded quickly, rushing
to get inside the vehicle. Away from me.

Shutting the door, she sat behind the wheel,
staring.

Jonathan pulled in next to me, Mom’s babbling
voice spilling out of the car.

“I hope Pops has food and lots of it,” he
muttered, climbing out, weariness gripping his voice.

Lifting his hand, he waved at the van, but
Tansy didn’t see him.

“Just get Mom in so Pops doesn’t worry,” I
said, handing him the Camaro keys.

They left, the babbling fading into the
background, the screen door shutting them away from the yard.

I leaned against Pops’ car.

Tansy started the van, gripped the steering
wheel, and then turned the van off, leaving silence and singing
crickets behind.

The van door opened, and she jumped out, her
face angry as she marched toward me.

“I don’t like you,” she snapped, stopping a
few feet away. “Just know that okay?”

Crossing my arms, I stared at her, lips
twitching. “Okay? So we’re putting up boundaries now? For
friendship?”

She stiffened. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
Sighing, she glanced at the house. “Which is a problem. For
me.”

Of course it was. Because if she was feeling
the need to put up boundaries, then she was wanting to cross lines
neither of us was admitting was there. Out loud anyway.

Her gaze found mine, the lost look twisting
my heart.

“Come here,” I murmured, stepping away from
the Camaro. Moving past her in the drive, I sauntered to the
cottage, not looking to see if she followed.