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“Well, I appreciate the help, but you don’t have to.” I inhaled, steeling myself for the next part of this conversation. I was not looking forward to it, but I knew it needed to be addressed. “We should also talk about last night.”
At the mention of the night before, color filled her cheeks. I wasn’t sure if she was flushing from arousal or embarrassment. I hoped it was the first.
“I really enjoyed being with you, but?—”
“It can’t happen again—” she interrupted. “I know.”
“I just don’t think it would be a good idea if?—”
“I agree. It was fun, but I think we both know that if I hadn’t been planning on leaving today, it wouldn’t have happened.”
Hearing her say those words hit me like a punch in the gut. Even though I knew she was right, it still wasn’t nice to hear.
“Is that it?” she asked, clearly wanting this conversation to be over.
“I think so.”
“Thanks again for the water. And the job and place to stay.”
“No, thank you.”
She turned and headed back upstairs. The moment she left, I immediately felt her absence. It was like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. If I felt this when she’d only been here a few hours, how in the hell was I gonna feel when she left at the end of the summer?
19
RUBY
“If you don’t think little things matter, try sleepin’ with a mosquito.” ~ Miss Dottie
“That’s a pretty picture,” I commented as Harper and I sat at the kitchen table.
“So is yours,” Harper returned the compliment. Her brow furrowed as she carefully guided her paintbrush to color the scales of her mermaid’s tail.
I’d forgotten how much I loved doing art projects when I was younger. Spending the past week with Harper had reawakened my love of all things artistic. Each day, we’d done a different art project. On Monday, we’d built a castle for Harper’s Barbies using popsicle sticks. On Tuesday, we’d assembled hand puppets using old socks, yarn, cardboard, and googly eyes and put on a puppet show after dinner. On Wednesday, we’d made friendship bracelets and necklaces out of beads that we hand-painted. Yesterday, it was DIY binoculars fashioned from toilet paper rolls and string, which were used to go on a nature walk and bird watching followed by sketching our favorite finds. And today, we traced pictures on canvases and were now painting them using watercolors.
Next week, Harper would be going to day camp, and I wasn’t sure what would fill my days.
Time was a funny thing. One week. That was how long I’d been living with Kane, Harper, Otto, and Bandit. It felt much longer than that, and it also felt like only an hour had passed.
We’d quickly fallen into a routine. In the morning, Kane got home from his graveyard shift around seven a.m. He made breakfast for everyone before heading upstairs to sleep. He typically woke up around four and made dinner. We all ate together, then I would insist on cleaning while Kane got Harper ready for bed, read her stories, and tucked her in. After that, he’d usually leave for work around nine p.m.
Inevitably, one or more ‘friends’ would show up on Kane’s doorstep with either a dinner dish, baked goods, or some other non-food-related excuse for being there, including, but not limited to, ‘being in the neighborhood’ which was the one I found the most entertaining since Wishing Well was basically one big neighborhood being that it was the size of a postage stamp.
When Harmony mentioned how in demand Kane was, I’d assumed she was exaggerating for comedic effect. She wasn’t. After living with him and witnessing the steady stream of female admirers, I could confidently proclaim that Kane Kingston was Clover County’s Most Eligible Bachelor. I definitely got the appeal. Even if I hadn’t had a crush on him my entire life, I still would have.
“Okay, we’ll be seein’ you!” Otto’s physical therapist, Jeremy Monson, called out before he headed out the door.
I jumped out of my chair and rushed to the screen door to try and grab it before it slammed shut. But I was too late. The steel frame crashed, and instinctively, I glanced up the stairs and cringed. The sound woke Bandit out of a mid-morning slumber, and he barked loudly.
It was difficult trying to keep the entire house quiet while Kane slept. Harper was good about using ‘inside voices’ but she wasn’t so great at not slamming doors or running up the stairs like a stampede of elephants. Bandit felt it was his duty to alert the entire household when anyone walked or drove by the front of the house. And rounding out the cacophony of noise was Otto’s television, which blasted in whatever room he was in, whether he was watching it or not.
“How does a picnic in the park sound?” I asked Harper.
“Yes!” she cheered.
“Inside voice,” I reminded her.
“Yes!” she whisper-yelled.
