The Best I Could (28 page)

She was the first to turn away.

Climbing into the van, she left.

“I like her,” Danny said cheerfully. “She’s
nice.”

Brought out of my reverie, I turned to him.
“I wore boots today.”

“That’s smart,” he replied seriously, his
gaze going to the yard. “Is Ms. Tansy your girlfriend?”

“No,” I answered. “Just a friend.”

It felt like a lie.

“Hey, Danny, what do you think of girls?” I
asked.

He shrugged. “Some of them are nice and some
of them are mean. Boys are the same. I like the ones who smile at
me. The ones who don’t look at me like I’m different.”

“Those are the good ones, huh?”

“Yeah.” He walked toward the dog pens.
“That’s what’s important,” he said matter-of-factly. “When they
look at you like you’re okay. Not like they think you should be
different, but that you’re just okay.”

His answer, because it was so innocent,
struck me hard.

“Yeah, I think you’re right.”

Despite the stench, the mess, and the yipping
dogs, I enjoyed the work. I enjoyed Danny’s presence, his easy
chatter, and the way he loved on each animal as if they were his
own. It made me want to look at the world the way he did.

“What do you see when you look at me?” I
asked him later that afternoon.

He grinned. “Giant Eli! You’re one of the
nice ones.”

That was all he said. I was one of the nice
ones.

I’ll be damned.

Tansy

The orchard welcomed me with sunshine and
peace the same way it had since the beginning. Despite the family
who called it home and the occasional drama it was witness to,
Lockston Orchard had something special about it.

Marking a new flower bed in the yard, I took
it in, the fresh air unfettered by noxious odors and troubling
thoughts.

Grinning, I remembered the way Pops’ wife
looked in the photo he’d shown me—all smiles under a white trellis
covered in roses. Magic. That was it. The orchard was full of
magic.

Whistling, I worked and dreamed.

Hours passed, my only company hot breezes and
whispering wildlife. This kind of company—the untamed, natural
type—was the kind of company I preferred.

“Do you have to be so loud?” a voice asked,
annoyed.

Startled, my head shot up to find Eli’s
mother in the yard, watching me, mascara streaking her cheeks.

In this haven, this sunshine-filled world,
seeing her standing there, her eyes black from the makeup and her
hair tangled around her shoulders, was disconcerting.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Do I look okay?”

My gaze flew to the house. “Is Pops
here?”

“Somewhere,” she answered, waving her hand
dismissively. Sitting in the grass, she began to rock back and
forth. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. “God, I hate
this!”

Stepping away from the flowers I’d just
planted, I clutched a trowel in my hand. “What’s wron—”

“It’s an anxiety attack, okay,” she fumed. “I
just need to sit still a moment.”

“Okay,” I whispered.

For a long time I stood there, afraid to do
anything; move, talk, or scream. Her anxiety didn’t bother me. It
was her that bothered me.

“I know people don’t like
me,” she said suddenly. “I really
do
know that.”

“Ummm …”

“Don’t say anything if you don’t mean
it.”

“Okay.” I set down the trowel. “I don’t like
you. Is that what you want to hear?”

She stared up at me. “Why?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

Her eyes narrowed. “He told you, didn’t
he?”

When I didn’t answer, she glared at me. “I
did what I thought was best for them.”

“For them or for you?”

“You don’t know me!” she cried, her arms
tightening around her legs.

Unexpected sympathy washed over me. She’d
come to the yard, found me working there, and stayed. Why? I had no
idea, but even if she didn’t need to hear what I thought about her,
I found myself, saying, “No, I don’t, but what I do know I don’t
understand, and I find that hard to relate to.”

Her rocking stilled.
“Everyone has secrets.
Everyone
. You can’t tell me you
haven’t done something that you don’t want anyone to know about.
That you’d more than likely do it again if given the
chance.”

My night in the bathroom sent spiraling waves
of regret into my heart.

There’s a difference between hurting
yourself and hurting others, right?

“You hurt them,” I muttered.

Face flushing, she stood. “Listen, you—”

The door on the porch creaked, thrown open by
an angry Pops.

“What do you think you’re doing, Ivy?” he
ranted.

She scowled. “Spending some quality time with
my son’s new girlfriend.”

“Frie—” I started, and then stopped because,
honestly, I wasn’t sure what Eli and I were anymore. All of the
previous things I’d labeled us as—roof buddies, karma
acquaintances, and friends—didn’t seem to fit.

“Come in, Ivy,” Pops ordered. “You need to
pace this off and rest.”

Mumbling, she brushed past me, brows
furrowed. “I’m not a monster.”

“No,” I said abruptly, “I
never thought you were, but what you did
was
wrong.”

Shoulders slumping, she disappeared into the
house, leaving Pops and I alone in the yard, leaving the day
brighter in her absence.

We stared at each other.

“You know that picture you showed me? The one
of your wife?” I asked finally, nervous butterflies taking flight
in my stomach.

Pops inclined his head.

“I’d like to make that garden. Not recreate
it exactly. I’d just like to build something like it. Big.
Beautiful. A sanctuary.”

His head lifted, his gaze roaming over the
trees, the fields, and the lawns surrounding us. So much space. It
was exhilarating.

“I’d do it without pay,” I said quickly.
“Since it would cost so much for the stuff.”

His gaze lowered, finding my face. “I’m not
worried about the money, Tansy.” He took a step down onto the
stairs. “Build it,” he said. “Something tells me it would do us all
some good.” His gaze went distant, remembering. “Everyone should
have a garden.”

“Thank you.”

He smiled. “Have you ever thought about going
to school for this?”

The question left me quiet, the orchard’s
surroundings growing vivid, blocking out my troubled thoughts. The
sun, the smell of the grass, the dandelion seeds that went flying
every time the wind blew. Heat, soil, and sunshine.

“When my brother went to college, I helped
him with a lot of his paperwork. The applications and programs he
was looking into. There was one called environmental science which
caught my eye.”

“You should do that.”

“I dropped out of school, Mr. Lockston.”

He took another step down. “I know. Your
grandmother told me.” He studied my face. “Most colleges will
accept a GED, Tansy. It wouldn’t be easy. You’d need to take the
ACT or SAT, maybe start out in a junior college, but you could
go.”

I shrugged.

“Are you afraid?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Maybe.”

“Want a little advice?” He stepped onto the
lawn, his hands sliding into his pockets. “Determination often gets
us where we need to be, but fear pushes us to the end. Let fear be
the push, not the hindrance.”

Winking, he turned, marched up the stairs,
and disappeared into the house.

I stared after him, his words ringing through
my head. My gaze fell, and I started walking, my feet carrying me
over the yard to the lane leading into the orchard. The sun, even
as cruel as it was in summer, felt good, a strong breeze keeping it
from being harsh. Dust kicked up around my feet, sweat beading up
along my brow.

Trees flanked me, their presence silent
sentinels.

When they opened up onto the hill overlooking
the valley, I stopped, my eyes on the glittering pond and diving
birds below.

A new feeling, a terrifying one I’d given up
on, blossomed inside of me.

Dreams. I’d given up on dreams.

My gaze fell to the ground, and I leaned
over, picking a dandelion standing in the grass. Silently, I blew
on it, watching the seeds go flying, diving and ducking on the
breeze. They fanned out, soaring over the valley, some of them
climbing, others falling, but they all flew. Every single one of
them, whether they rose or fell.

Eli

The dogs were quiet when we ushered them back
into their pens at the end of the day, fresh bowls of food and
water waiting for them. Two pens remained empty, the dogs adopted
that morning.

“You have a good evening, Danny,” I called,
waving.

“Take it easy, giant Eli!”

Chuckling, I walked out of the rescue to find
Tansy working in an area near the clinic, plugging stakes into the
ground.

She glanced up when she heard me coming, a
smile flashing across her face. “I think you may need a ride
home.”

“Do I?”

She swept her hands down the sides of her
sundress. “Your brother called. He’s headed back in, but it will be
a bit. I told Pops and Nana that I’d take you to the orchard.”

Having to be chauffeured around by other
people was getting tired, but right now, I had to admit I was glad
she volunteered.

She gestured at the van.

Following her, I watched her swinging skirt.
“I smell like dog in the worst possible way,” I warned.

“So does the van,” she replied.

Climbing in, I glanced at her. “You look good
today.”

She smiled at the windshield. “That’s an
actual compliment with no deep shit attached, right?”

“I can take it back.”

“No,” she rushed to say. “I liked it. Thank
you.”

“You’re not going to return the favor?” I
asked, mock offended.

Her smile grew. “The smell minimizes your
magnetism.”

“It’s the shoes. All of the stuff we end up
walking through. The rest of me isn’t half bad. Want to test it
out?”

She threw me a look. “Someone had a good
day.”

“You can tell? Wow, I must be losing my
touch.”

She chuckled. “I think I like this Eli.”

“You didn’t like the other one?”

“Oh no, I did … I
do
. I just mean I like
knowing there’s more than one side to you.”

“There usually is with most people.”

The highway flashed beneath us, eaten by the
van.

“Speaking of—” I began.

She stopped me. “Keep joking around. Or say
something random. It doesn’t matter. Just say anything as long as
it’s not about me. Or you. Just something fun.”

I stared at her. “That’s new. A girl not
wanting to talk about herself.”

“Not new,” she promised. “You just hang out
with the wrong people.”

“Maybe,” I said. “Something random, huh?”

My eyes went to the window, to the roads,
trees, businesses, and houses that flashed by. Like a kaleidoscope,
a myriad of shapes and colors blending together. Pattern after
pattern.

A small backyard pond blurred past, and I
watched the sun light up the water before it vanished. “Did you
know that the ocean is the world’s largest museum?”

Tansy’s gaze slid from the rearview mirror to
me to the road. “I did ask for random, didn’t I?” She shook her
head. “Because of all of the shipwrecks?” she asked.

“And planes and other wreckage. Old
civilizations swallowed by the waves. The sea holds more artifacts
and history than all of the museums in the world.”

“Did you know that octopuses have three
hearts?” Tansy asked abruptly.

My brows rose.

She flushed. “Well, we were talking about the
ocean, right?”

“Three hearts.” I whistled. “That’s got to be
good for romance.”

“Actually, they die after they have sex. The
males directly after, and the females after they have babies.”

“And then suddenly it’s tragic, and celibacy
looks better than ever.”

She laughed.

“So this is the science geek in you, roof
girl?” I asked, leaning against the door, my gaze on her profile.
“That thing you said about sides … I think I like this side of
you.”

“Because I’m secretly a nerd or because I
know that octopuses have three hearts?”

“I won’t be truly impressed until you can
tell me a creature that has more than one penis,” I teased.

“Snakes have two,” she informed me.

“No kidding—”

“But they only use one half of it when
mating.”

“Oh, and then she hits me with that!” I
grabbed my chest dramatically. “The crushing disappointment! Two
penises and no chance to get off twice at the same time. How is
that fair to the male snake?”

Her answering laughter filled the vehicle,
closing us in, tugging at my heart.

“Thank you,” she said, pulling the van into
the orchard drive, “for being random with me.”

“I should be thanking you. How many people
can boast that they know the octopus has three hearts and the snake
two penises? This is life changing information, roof girl.”

Parking, she punched me lightly in the arm.
“Get out, roof boy.”

I climbed out, but instead of walking away, I
circled the van, pulled open her door, and reached for her. “Don’t
forget …” My hand fell on her leg, and she winced. I froze, my
words trailing away, my gaze falling to her left thigh.
“Tansy?”

She pushed me away. “I’ve got to get
back.”

I held the door, refusing to let her close
it. “Shit, Tansy, do you have a cut there?”

“Don’t,” she warned.

I sighed because I needed time to bring my
emotions under control. During my first alcohol program, I’d met a
girl who cut. Even though I didn’t participate much in group
sessions, I listened. Anger wasn’t the way to go with Tansy.