Something of a Storm (All in Good Time Book 1) (9 page)

I shook his hand reluctantly, and just like that, he stood up. "Okay, so I'll give you a call in the next few days to check on you and see how things are doing," he said.

Before I knew it, Zack was gone and I was left holding a check—a check for five thousand dollars.

Chapter 12

I was sleeping when Lexi got off work so I didn't tell her about Zack's visit till the next morning. It was the nature of the illness I was experiencing to make it seem like I was in a dream-like state most of the time, and when I woke up and thought about him coming by and leaving that check, I couldn't really believe it myself.

It was a Tuesday when he came by and the rest of the week passed in a blur. Lexi had a busy week at work and the only night she was off, she ended up hanging out with a friend. She asked if I wanted company, but I was fine being left alone.

I had good moments and bad, but the days just sort of jumbled together, and before I knew it, the weekend was there.

It was now Saturday morning and Lexi was sleeping soundly, so rather than hang out in the apartment, I went outside to get some fresh air. Ken and Kathy had gorgeous flowerbeds along the front of the house that they tended to regularly, but the one along side the garage was sometimes forgotten, and I took pleasure in pulling weeds. Kathy noticed me doing it a few weeks before, and went out of her way to thank me, so it was something I now did regularly. I enjoyed the feel of dirt under my nails, and it was nice to think I'd actually accomplished something at a time when I was too sick to do anything else.

I was at the backside of the flowerbed when I heard a car pull into the driveway. I assumed it was Ken or Kathy, so I didn't bother standing up to look. A few seconds later, I heard the car door close and the sound of footsteps going up the iron steps toward my apartment. I couldn't see the steps from where I was, and curiosity got the best of me, so I went to check it out.

By the time I got around to the other side of the garage, he was almost at the top of the stairs. I knew it was Zack. I'd already got a glimpse of the nice truck in the driveway, but his perfect male body, even from behind, was unmistakable. I cringed at the thought of talking to him in the state I was in. I'd barely even glanced in a mirror that morning. But my only other option was to let him knock and wake up my sister.

"Hey!" I called from the bottom of the stairs.

He turned to face me, bracing himself on the iron rail. "Hey!" he said looking down at me with a smile.

I had a handful of weeds in one hand and the other was covered in dirt. I saw him glance at them curiously, so I lifted them slightly. "I'm pulling weeds over here in the flowerbed," I said with a flick of my head.

He started down the stairs. "Need some help?"

I stood there, not knowing what to say for a second, and before I knew it, he was standing next to me wearing that same smile that made me weak in the knees.

"Oh, no," I said, trying to seem unaffected. "There's not really much to do. I'm just spacing out down here while Lexi's sleeping upstairs."

"Can I take you somewhere for coffee," he asked.

I let out a little laugh. It had been over two months since this ordeal started and while I wasn't feeling as bad as I was at one point when I wanted to go to the hospital every other day, I still couldn't imagine doing every day things like going out to get a cup of coffee for fun.

"I can't really do coffee," I said regretfully. "At least not more than a few sips at a time." I motioned to my chest. "It messes with my adrenaline."

"What about food?" he said smiling. "Can you eat food?"

I took a deep breath. I had been out of the house, but only to get fresh air or run errands.

"Come on, it'll do you some good," he said sensing my hesitation.

I looked down at my pajama pants and t-shirt with a sigh.

"Just go upstairs and get dressed," he said. "Nothing fancy. We'll just go sit at a diner so we don't wake your sister."

For whatever reason I just obeyed him without argument. "I'll be right back," I said. I tossed the weeds I was holding behind a bush before starting up the stairs.

"What are you doing?" Lexi said sleepily when I was on my way out of the bedroom a few minutes later.

"I'm going to grab something to eat."

She sat up onto her elbows. "Really?" she asked sounding surprised. "Where?"

"I don’t know. That guy Zack came by and asked if I wanted to get breakfast. I thought it was good timing so you could sleep."

"Seriously?" she asked sitting up straighter and pulling the covers up over her chest. "He's here?"

"He's in the driveway," I said.

She smiled and wiggled her eyebrows as if it were a real date and could actually amount to something. I shook my head and rolled my eyes at her.

"Can you bring me a muffin or something?" she asked. "I think I ate the last of the cereal last night."

"Yeah," I said. I knew she wanted eggs and bacon and was just trying not to be too much trouble. "I was already planning on bringing you something back."

She plopped back onto the bed. "Thanks! Hey Laney," she said without looking at me.

"Yeah?"

"Turn over and shake your hair to fluff it up a little. And put on a little lip gloss while you're at it."

I sighed as if I was annoyed, but did exactly as she instructed. "Love you," I said on my way out.

"Love you," she called.

"See, that wasn't so hard," Zack said, watching me walk down the stairs. "You look like a million bucks."

I laughed. "They were right, you could run for office."

"Who said that?" he asked.

"Freddy and Peter that day when they were installing the windows."

Zack laughed. "But I wasn't just flattering you."

I didn't respond to that since I figured he was just being nice. "I never got to see those windows," I said.

"Seriously? I thought you were there with them the whole time they were installing."

"I got sick that morning. I didn't see the final one go up."

"Oh man, that's a shame. They look amazing. You should come by and see them."

"I'll have to do that once I'm over all this," I said.

He opened the door of the truck for me. It was the first time that had ever happened, and I smiled wondering why there weren't more gentlemen in the world. He closed the door, and I stared at the dashboard thinking about how complicated all the controls looked.

"Are you guys having some work done?" he asked as he got into the driver's seat and started the ignition.

"What do you mean?"

He pointed at my truck and I let out an uncontrollable giggle. "That's my truck," I said. He put on the brakes long enough to focus his attention on the truck for a second, then he looked at me with a curious smile. "Where do you get something like that?" he asked.

"My uncle gave it to me," I said. "He owns an electrical company up in Washington, and he didn't want Lexi and me coming down here without a way to get around."

"I've never known anyone to drive one of those," he said. "I bet it'll come in handy sometimes."

I laughed. "If I ever need to get a job with the electric company."

"Mom said she talked to Peter about you," he said changing the subject. "Apparently, he thinks you're really talented."

He'd never told me that. In fact, I'd barely even talked to him since I'd been sick and I just assumed he really didn't care whether or not I was coming back.

"That's sweet," I said. "He's obviously a master, so a compliment means a lot coming from him."

"Do you have any pictures of your work?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Not with me. I could probably dig up some at home, but they're really not that big of a deal. I'm just a beginner."

In my head, I wondered if I'd ever touch glass again, but I didn't say that. "I haven't worked at all since I got sick," I said. "It's hard to know where to start."

"Where'd you start before you got sick?"

"I met a lady who showed me the ropes. She had a studio space in her house—tiny compared to Mr. Craig's. But she showed me what she could about making my sketches come to life."

"So you sketch down an idea on paper and then make it out of glass?" he said. "I never knew that's how it worked."

"I'm honestly not sure if that's how it works for all artists," I said. "I didn't get to know Peter enough to learn his methods. But that's what I do. Or that's what I did. I haven't even sketched anything since I got sick."

"What exactly made you sick?" he asked.

I spent the rest of the drive describing to him that since I took antibiotics over two months ago, I've been unexplainably sick. I told him how it felt like something was squeezing my insides from my throat to my gut, and explained to him how I not so affectionately referred to it as "the grip".

I shared the list of symptoms I could remember off the top of my head and explained how they shift from one to another and how they come and go with no rhyme or reason. I told him taking medicine or supplements only seemed to make me sicker. I told him it was completely life altering for me, but still didn't show up on any medical test.

"Do you feel anything now?" he asked as we walked into the diner. "I feel the grip in my chest right now, but not too bad. I'm also dizzy." I gave him a reassuring smile. "But don't worry, I'm not gonna pass out or anything."

We sat across from each other at a small booth and a waitress came to give us menus and take our drink order. We sat in silence, checking out the menu for a minute after she walked away. I wanted to ask why we were here—why he came over, but I couldn't think of a nice way to put it.

"Were you just in the neighborhood?" I said, finally.

He looked up from his menu with a half-smile. "No." He sat there as if that was all he was planning on saying.

"Well, what, uh, why'd… Did you just come by to see how I was feeling?" I asked tentatively.

He seemed amused at the way I squirmed to get the question out. "Don't act like you don't know you're in trouble," he said.

My eyes widened. "What'd I do?"

"You didn't cash that check I gave you."

"It's only been a few days," I said even though I wasn't planning on cashing it at all.

He shrugged. "I felt bad about giving you a check after I left anyway," he said. "I have cash in the truck. That's why I came by."

I closed my eyes and shook my head imperceptibly thinking how weird it was that he was forcing money on me.

"We've already had this conversation," he said, noticing the stubbornness rise to the surface. He picked up his menu again. "Let's just not talk about it. I'd like to sit here and enjoy some breakfast with you if you don't mind."

My physical symptoms were constantly with me. No matter how good I felt during a moment of relief, there was always an underlying feeling that something was still wrong with my body. That being said, I managed to ignore them while I was at that diner with Zack. It was the first time that had happened since late May, and it felt really good. In spite of him being so flawless, he was incredibly down to earth and easy to talk to.

It crossed my mind to wonder if he had a girlfriend and if so, how she would feel about him taking me out to eat. That thought was fleeting, however, since Zack's feelings toward me were only that of a kind person showing goodwill to someone he thought needed help.

We shared easy conversation for about an hour while we ate. I didn't feel the need to try to impress him, so being myself was effortless. We shared a similar sense of humor and found it easy to laugh at random observations around the diner. My wit and humor was something that went out the door with the antibiotics, but right then my thinking was pretty clear, which meant I was able to come up with a few quick-witted remarks. I was almost my old self—like back in the hardware store when I'd give Jerry and the guys a hard time. I didn't know if I'd ever get that part of my brain back, and it felt wonderful, if even for a few minutes.

I ordered Lexi some breakfast to go, and once the waitress brought it, we left. I tried to make Zack let me pay for my part, but he just looked at me like I was being ridiculous and handed the waitress cash.

We hadn't talked about unwanted charity, or sickness, or rape, or anything else that would make me feel uncomfortable, and I left the diner wearing the smile that had been absent from my face for over two months.

Once we were settled in the truck, he reached into the console and pulled out an envelope. I could tell by the thickness of it that there was a ton of cash inside—it must have been the full five thousand that he tried to make me take earlier.

He started the truck and proceeded to back out, and I sat there with the envelope in my lap. "Listen," I said, in a last-ditch effort to make him stop this madness. "I know you're trying to be nice to me and that's really amazing of you, but I can't let you give me this."

He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.

"You don't know me," I said. "I've done things that would shock you, and your mom, and your whole church. I'm really not deserving of this kind of generosity."

A few seconds of silence passed. "Shock me," he said.

"What?" I asked.

"Tell me what you could have possibly done that's so shocking."