The Lucky One (16 page)

On the mantel, he spotted a collection of photographs and moved to study them. Two or three were of Ben, including one in which he was missing a couple of his front teeth. Beside them was a nice shot of Elizabeth in a cap and gown, standing beside her grandparents, and a portrait of Nana and her husband. In the corner, he noted a portrait of a young marine in dress blues, standing at ease.

The young marine who’d lost the photo in Iraq?

“That’s Drake,” she said from behind him. “My brother.”

Thibault turned. “Younger or older?”

“A year younger.”

She handed him the glass of lemonade without further comment, and Thibault sensed that the subject was closed. She took a step toward the front door.

“Let’s go sit on the porch. I’ve been inside all day, and besides, I want to keep an eye on Ben. He has a tendency to wander.”

Elizabeth took a seat on the steps out front. The sun drilled down through the clouds, but the shade from the porch stretched to cover them. Elizabeth tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sorry. This is the best I can do. I’ve been trying to talk Nana into getting a porch swing, but she says it’s too country.”

In the distance, Ben and Zeus were running through the grass, Ben laughing as he tried to grab for the stick in Zeus’s mouth. Elizabeth smiled. “I’m glad to see him getting his energy out. He had his first violin lesson today, so he didn’t have a chance after school.”

“Did he enjoy it?”

“He liked it. Or at least he said he did.” She turned toward him. “Did you like it when you were a kid?”

“Most of the time. Until I got older, anyway.”

“Let me guess. Then you got interested in girls and sports?”

“Don’t forget cars.”

“Typical,” she groaned. “But normal. I’m just excited because it was his choice. He’s always been interested in music, and his teacher is a gem. She’s got all the patience in the world.”

“That’s good. And it’ll be good for him.”

She pretended to scrutinize him. “I don’t know why, but I see you as more of an electric guitar player than someone who played the violin.”

“Because I walked from Colorado?”

“Don’t forget your hair.”

“I had a buzz cut for years.”

“And then your clippers went on strike, right?”

“Something like that.”

She smiled and reached for her glass. In the silence that followed, Thibault took in the view. Across the yard, a flock of starlings broke from the trees, moving in unison before settling again on the opposite side. Puffy clouds drifted past, changing shape as they moved in the afternoon breeze, and he could sense Elizabeth watching him.

“You don’t feel the need to talk all the time, do you,” she said.

He smiled. “No.”

“Most people don’t know how to appreciate silence. They can’t help talking.”

“I talk. I just want to have something to say first.”

“You’re going to have a tough time in Hampton. Most people around here either talk about their family, their neighbors, the weather, or the championship prospects of the high school football team.”

“Yeah?”

“It gets boring.”

He nodded. “I can see that.” He took another drink, finishing his glass. “So how does the football team look this year?”

She laughed. “Exactly.” She reached for his glass. “Would you like more?”

“No, I’m fine. Thank you. Very refreshing.”

She set his glass beside hers. “Homemade. Nana squeezed the lemons herself.”

He nodded. “I noticed she has a forearm like Popeye.”

She circled the rim of her glass with her finger, secretly admitting to herself that she liked his wit. “So I guess it’ll be just you and me this weekend.”

“What about Ben?”

“He’s going to see his father tomorrow. He goes every other weekend.”

“Yeah?”

She sighed. “But he doesn’t want to go. He never wants to go.”

Thibault nodded, studying Ben from a distance.

“Nothing to say?” she prodded.

“I’m not sure what I should say.”

“But if you would have said something . . .”

“I would have said that Ben probably has a good reason.”

“And I would have said you’re right.”

“You two don’t get along?” Thibault asked carefully.

“Actually, we get along okay. Not great, mind you. But okay. It’s Ben and his dad who don’t get along. My ex has problems with Ben,” she said. “I think he wanted a different kind of kid.”

“Why do you let Ben go, then?” His gaze focused on her with surprising intensity.

“Because I don’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice.”

“Not in this case there isn’t.” She leaned off to the side, plucking a marigold from beside the stairs. “The dad has joint custody, and if I tried to fight him on it, let’s just say the courts would probably rule in his favor. If anything, Ben would probably have to go even more than he does now.”

“That doesn’t sound fair.”

“It isn’t. But for now, there’s not much else I can do but tell Ben to try to make the best of it.”

“I get the sense there’s a lot more to the story.”

She laughed. “You have no idea.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

Whatever urge Thibault might have had to press further was contained by the sight of Ben walking toward the porch. He was drenched in sweat, his face red. His glasses were slightly crooked. Zeus trailed behind, panting hard.

“Hey, Mom!”

“Hi, sweetie. Did you have a good time?”

Zeus lapped at Thibault’s hand before collapsing at his feet.

“Zeus is great! Did you see us playing keep-away?”

“Of course,” she said, drawing Ben close. She ran a hand through his hair. “You look hot. You should drink some water.”

“I will. Are Thibault and Zeus staying for dinner?”

“We haven’t talked about it.”

Ben pushed his glasses up on his nose, oblivious to the fact that they were cockeyed. “We’re having tacos,” he announced to Thibault. “They’re awesome. Mom makes her own salsa and everything.”

“I’m sure they are,” Thibault said, his tone neutral.

“We’ll talk about it, okay?” She brushed the grass from his shirt. “Now go on. Get some water. And don’t forget to wash up.”

“I want to play hide-and-go-seek with Zeus,” Ben whined. “Thibault said I could.”

“Like I said, we’ll talk about it,” Elizabeth said.

“Can Zeus come inside with me? He’s thirsty, too.”

“Let’s leave him out here, okay? We’ll get him some water. What happened to your glasses?”

Ignoring Ben’s protests, she slid them off. “It’ll only take a second.” She bent the frame, examined her handiwork, and bent them once more before handing them back to him. “Try them now.”

Ben’s eyes darted toward Thibault as he put them on; Thibault pretended not to notice. Instead, he petted Zeus as the dog lay quietly next to him. Elizabeth leaned back to get a better view.

“Perfect,” she said.

“Okay,” Ben conceded. He headed up the steps, pulled open the screen door, and let it close with a loud bang. When he was gone, Elizabeth turned to Thibault.

“I embarrassed him.”

“That’s what mothers do.”

“Thanks,” she said, not hiding the sarcasm. “Now what’s this about Zeus and hide-and-go-seek?”

“Oh, I told him about it when we were down at the creek. He was asking what Zeus could do and I mentioned it. But we don’t have to do it tonight.”

“No, that’s fine,” she said, reaching for her glass of lemonade. She rattled the ice cubes, debating, before finally turning toward him. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

He met her eyes. “Yeah,” he said, “I’d like that very much.”

“It’s only tacos,” she qualified.

“I heard. And thank you. Tacos sound like a treat.” He smiled and stood. “But for now, let me get this guy some water. And he’s probably hungry, too. Would you mind if I got him some food from the kennel?”

“Of course not. There’s plenty. Someone just unloaded a bunch of bags yesterday.”

“Who could that have been?”

“I don’t know. Some long-haired drifter, I think.”

“I thought he was a college-educated veteran.”

“Same thing.” Picking up the glasses, she rose as well. “I’m going to make sure Ben washed up. He tends to forget to do that. See you in a few minutes.”

At the kennel, Thibault filled Zeus’s bowls with water and food, then took a seat on one of the empty cages, waiting. Zeus took his time, drinking a bit, then nibbling at a few bites of his food, peering occasionally over at Thibault as if to ask,
Why are you watching me?
Thibault said nothing; he knew that any comment would slow Zeus down even more.

Instead, he checked the other kennels even though Elizabeth had said she’d already done so, making sure none of the other dogs were low on water. They weren’t. Nor did they stir much. Good. He turned out the lights in the office and locked the door before returning to the house. Zeus trailed behind him, his nose to the ground.

At the door, he motioned for Zeus to lie down and stay, then pulled open the screen door.

“Hello?”

“Come on in. I’m in the kitchen.”

Thibault stepped inside and made his way to the kitchen. Elizabeth had put on an apron and was standing at the stove, browning ground beef. On the counter beside her was an open bottle of Michelob Light.

“Where’s Ben?” Thibault asked.

“He’s in the shower. He should be down in a couple of minutes.” She added some packaged taco seasoning and water to the beef, then rinsed her hands. After drying them on the front of her apron, she reached for her beer. “Would you like one? I always have a beer on taco night.”

“I’d love one.”

She pulled a beer from the refrigerator and handed it to him. “It’s light. It’s all I have.”

“Thank you.”

He leaned against the counter and took in the kitchen. In some ways, it reminded him of the one in the house he’d rented. Cabinets original with the house, stainless-steel sink, older appliances, and a small dining room set pushed beneath a window, but all in slightly better condition, with women’s touches here and there. Flowers in a vase, a bowl of fruit, window treatments. Homey.

From the refrigerator, Elizabeth pulled out some lettuce and tomatoes, along with a block of cheddar cheese, and put them on the counter. She followed that with green peppers and onions, moved the whole lot to the butcher block, then pulled out a knife and cheese grater from a counter drawer. She started slicing and dicing the onion, her movements quick and fluid.

“Need a hand?”

She shot him a skeptical look. “Don’t tell me that in addition to training dogs, fixing cars, and being a musician, you’re an expert chef.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. But I know my way around the kitchen. I make dinner every night.”

“Oh yeah? What did you have last night?”

“Turkey sandwich on wheat. With a pickle.”

“And the night before?”

“Turkey sandwich on wheat. No pickle.”

She giggled. “What was the last hot meal you cooked?”

He pretended to rack his brains. “Uh . . . beans and franks. On Monday.”

She feigned amazement. “I stand corrected. How are you at grating cheese?”

“In that, I would consider myself an expert.”

“Okay,” she said. “There’s a bowl in the cupboard over there, beneath the blender. And you don’t need to do the whole block. Ben usually has two tacos, and I have only one. Anything more would be for you.”

Thibault set his beer on the counter and retrieved the bowl from the cupboard. Then he moved to the sink to wash his hands and unwrap the block of cheese. He snuck glances at Elizabeth as he worked. Finished with the onion, she’d already moved on to the green pepper. The tomato came next. The knife danced steadily, the movements precise.

“You do that so quickly.”

She answered without breaking the rhythm of her movements. “There was a while there when I dreamed of opening my own restaurant.”

“When was that?”

“When I was fifteen. For my birthday, I even asked for the Ginsu knife.”

“You mean the one that used to be advertised on late-night television? Where the guy on the commercial uses it to cut through a tin can?”

She nodded. “That’s the one.”

“Did you get it?”

“It’s the knife I’m using now.”

He smiled. “I’ve never known anyone who actually admitted to buying one.”

“Now you do,” she said. She stole a quick look at him. “I had this dream about opening this great place in Charleston or Savannah and having my own cookbooks and television show. Crazy, I know. But anyway, I spent the summer practicing my dicing. I’d dice everything I could, as fast as I could, until I was as fast as the guy on the commercial. There were Tupperware bowls filled with zucchini and carrots and squash that I’d picked from the garden. It drove Nana crazy, since it meant we had to have summer stew just about every single day.”

“What’s summer stew?”

“Anything mixed together that can be served over noodles or rice.”

He smiled as he shifted a pile of grated cheese to the side. “Then what happened?”

“Summer ended, and we ran out of vegetables.”

“Ah,” he said, wondering how someone could look so pretty in an apron.

“Okay,” she said, pulling another pot from under the stove, “let me whip up the salsa.”

She poured in a large can of tomato sauce, then added the onions and peppers and a dash of Tabasco, along with salt and pepper. She stirred them together and set the heat on medium.

“Your own recipe?”

“Nana’s. Ben doesn’t like things too spicy, so this is what she came up with.”

Finished with the cheese, Thibault rewrapped it. “What else?”

“Not much. I just have to shred some lettuce and that’s it. Oh, and heat up the shells in the oven. I’ll let the meat and the salsa simmer for a bit.”

“How about I do the shells?”

She handed him a cookie sheet and turned on the oven. “Just spread the shells out a little. Three for us, and however many you want for you. But don’t put them in yet. We still have a few minutes. Ben likes the shells fresh out of the oven.”

Thibault did as she requested, and she finished with the lettuce at about the same time. She put three plates on the counter. Picking up her beer again, she motioned toward the door. “Come out back. I want to show you something.”