Take Me Home (9781455552078) (9 page)

“Whatever the reason, I'm glad he was there,” John continued, placing his hand on his daughter's shoulder. “Some folks might say he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, but without him, only the Good Lord knows what might've happened to you.”

“He may have saved my life,” Olivia explained.

“For that, he will always have my thanks.”

Just then, there was a familiar knock on the side door to the kitchen; one heavy rap followed by three quick ones. Olivia had heard it hundreds of times over the years, had always welcomed it, and had often run to answer. But today, the sound filled her with dread.

It was Billy.

W
HEN
O
LIVIA OPENED
the kitchen door, Billy had his back to her, walking toward the far side of the drive; it looked to Olivia as if he was pacing, just as he'd done in front of the hardware store on the morning he had come to propose. At the first creak of the door's hinges, Billy looked back at her, his expression one of worry.

“I just heard about what happened,” he said, hurrying back to her. “Are you all right? Have you been hurt?”

“I'm fine,” she tried to reassure him.

“I don't think I've ever been so worried,” Billy explained. “Marilyn Hargrove was telling everyone down at the bank how Sylvester's truck had come roaring down the street, went right over the curb, and—”

“I'll tell you all about it,” Olivia interrupted, “but not here.” Right then, the last thing she wanted was to have to worry about her family eavesdropping on their conversation, especially because she knew that she and Billy had plenty of other things to talk about, far more than just the accident. “Come with me.”

The twilight sky was fast filling with stars. Above them, a pair of bats darted through the remaining light, searching for bugs to eat. Rounding the house, Olivia skirted her mother's victory garden; like most in Miller's Creek, Elizabeth had taken to growing her own food to supplement what had been sacrificed for the war effort. Though the garden was now barren, it would soon be spotted with new sprouts and thick with produce by summer. Her backyard had also been the sight of many memorable moments for her and Billy: playing hide-and-seek, chasing after fireflies on a hot summer night, and climbing trees as high as they dared. Whenever they'd been together here, it had been nothing but fun.

But this night was different. For the first time in their long friendship, Olivia felt uncomfortable being with Billy. They hadn't been together since he had proposed and things between them felt awkward, as if they were suddenly strangers. Part of the problem was that since she'd been blindsided by Billy's asking her to marry him, Olivia wondered what other things she might not know, what other surprises he might have in store for her. Chastising herself, Olivia tried to shake her worries. It wasn't as if she had planned on avoiding Billy forever.

Olivia led Billy to a familiar spot. A lone, towering evergreen rose at the rear of the property. Her father had always kept the lowest branches pruned back so that there was plenty of room to walk beneath the great tree. Pine cones and fallen needles littered the ground, and the air was full of the sharp scent of sap. John had built a rough bench; wiping away the odds and ends that had fallen onto it, Olivia sat. When Billy joined her, he took her hand in his own, his thumb rubbing over the ring he had given her, a much more intimate gesture than she was used to. She had to fight the urge to pull away.

“So what happened?” he asked.

Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Olivia once again recounted the horrible accident. Billy hung on her every word, only occasionally interrupting with questions. When she finished, Billy sat back on the bench, a look of astonishment on his face. “It's incredible,” he said, “and a bit frightening, both at the same time. You could've been badly hurt.”

“I could've been killed,” Olivia corrected him. “I don't even want to think of what would have happened if I hadn't been pulled out of the way. Instead, all I have are bruises.”

“Let me see,” Billy asked curiously.

Gently, Olivia rolled up the right sleeve of her blouse until it was just past her elbow. Her wounds were ugly. Even in the last of the daylight, the discoloration was obvious; a dark mottling of purple, blue, and brown bruises that ran roughshod up her forearm, around her elbow, reaching even higher. Just after it had happened, it had been little more than a dull throbbing, but now it ached. When Billy reached out and touched her, Olivia winced and pulled away.

“Sorry,” he apologized.

“It's all right. It just stings.”

“Did Dr. Hoskins take a look at it?”

Olivia shook her head. “I'm fine. It's just a bad bruise,” she said. “Besides, he had more important things to worry about.”

“That guy that came along and pulled you out of the way…” he muttered. “What did you say his name was?”

“Peter. Peter Baird.”

Billy nodded, his jaw set tight, his lips pursed as if he was deep in thought. “So this guy…” he began, “Peter…who you've never seen before, just happens to be walking by and offers to help you carry boxes of old newspapers…sort of unusual, isn't it?”

“Not really,” Olivia answered. “They were heavy and I'd dropped one. He saw it and came to help. I thought it was nice of him.”

Instead of agreeing, Billy fell silent. “How old is this guy?” he finally asked. “What does he look like?”

“Why does it matter?” she asked, surprised by his odd request.

“I want to know, that's all.”

“He's…he's the same age as us…” she answered. “Maybe a little older…”

“Is he tall or short? Does he have blond or dark hair?” he kept on, the questions coming fast. “Is he
handsome
?”

Olivia gasped; she couldn't believe what Billy was saying.

“I just find it odd that this guy was showing such an interest in you,” he kept on. “For all you know, he could be some kind of degenerate.”

“He's not like that! He might very well have saved my life today!”

“And I'll thank him for that,” Billy shot back, clearly growing upset at her refusal to answer him. “I just want to know who this man is,” he added. “Especially since he put his hands on my fiancée.”

It was then that Olivia understood; Billy was jealous. He was jealous of a man he had never met, simply because he'd spoken with her. He felt threatened that Peter had been by her side, regardless of the fact that he'd protected her from Sylvester and his runaway truck. His fears were so irrational, so emotional, that they were enough to make it evident that he clearly didn't trust
her.
He was so insecure, so worried about their relationship, that he saw dangers every­where he looked.

But while there was a part of Olivia that pitied Billy for his concerns, there was another that knew his worries weren't entirely without cause. She still remembered the way she'd felt talking to Peter, how just seeing him on the sidewalk, watching her, had brought a smile to her face. One of the questions Billy had asked was whether she found Peter handsome; she doubted that her fiancé would have liked her answer. Peter was unlike any man she'd ever met. Though she'd only spent a couple of minutes with him, she definitely wanted to know him better.

Olivia's thoughts must have shown in her face. Billy had been watching her intently, waiting for the answers he so desperately wanted, but suddenly his features softened and his eyes looked quickly away, as if he was ashamed of how he'd been behaving. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the only sound beneath the evergreen coming from the early-spring crickets, chirping in the darkness.

It was Billy who finally spoke. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I didn't mean to upset you, especially after all you've been through.”

Olivia remained silent.

“It's…it's just that ever since I heard about what happened,” Billy continued, “I've been worried sick. I couldn't bear to lose you…just the thought of it makes me crazy. But instead of being happy that you weren't hurt, I jumped to conclusions and made a fool out of myself.” He paused. “Can you forgive me?”

“Yes,” she answered truthfully.

“So…will he…will Peter…be all right?”

Olivia remembered the way Peter's head had hit the ground and how still he'd been when they'd loaded him into the wagon. “I hope so,” she said. “The doctor said that the only thing we could do was let him rest.”

“Well,” Billy said with a slightly forced smile, “when he does wake up, I want to be the first person who thanks him for what he did.” It was the same sentiment that her father had expressed, but Olivia didn't find it nearly as convincing coming from Billy. Though he was doing his best to hide his true feelings, she could see that he was ill at ease.

Ever since Billy had dropped to one knee and proposed, Olivia had felt lost, as anchorless as a teacup in a tempest. When she'd surprised even herself and agreed to become his wife, it hadn't taken long for her to begin doubting her decision. More difficult questions had followed from family and friends. For too long, Olivia had been on the defensive. Maybe it was time for her to be the one doing the asking…

“Why didn't I know?”

“Know what?”

“That you were in love with me,” Olivia answered. “When you proposed, you said that you've loved me ever since the day we met along the creek, but whenever I think back, looking for some sign that might've given away how you felt, there's nothing. How did you keep it from me? How could I have mistaken your love for friendship for so long?”

Billy turned to look at her, but didn't answer.

“Tell me,” she insisted.

He sighed. “The reason you didn't know, why I did whatever it took to keep it from you, was because I was scared that if I was honest, if I just told that I was in love with you, there was a chance you would've rejected me. The truth could have destroyed our friendship, and that was a risk I wasn't willing to take.”

Olivia wondered if he was right; if Billy
had
told her years ago, would she have turned him down?

Probably…

To Olivia, Billy had never been more than her friend, her
best
friend. She hadn't once considered him as a potential boyfriend or husband.

“Our friendship would never have ended,” she said.

“But I didn't know that,” he answered. “The problem with reaching for the stars is that you have that much farther to fall.”

“Is that what I was to you? A star?”

“The brightest in the sky. You still are.”

Billy's words made Olivia blush. Unable to think of what to say, she sat back on the rough bench and looked into the darkness.

Inside her home, lights shone brightly in the kitchen. Even from so far away, Olivia could see her mother finishing her preparations for dinner. Suddenly, her father appeared, sliding up behind his wife, trying to steal a bite of something, and then getting his hand playfully swatted away. It was a tender moment between them, something Olivia rarely saw; her mother's hardness rarely allowed for shows of affection. But right before her eyes, even with an injured stranger sleeping in the guest room, it was clear her parents were still in love.

“They look happy.”

Olivia looked at Billy; he smiled, then turned back toward the house.

“Yes, they do,” she answered.

As they watched, her mother suddenly began to laugh heartily, the sound trapped behind the glass, her eyes shut and her head tilted back, her shoulders shaking slightly. Olivia could only imagine what had caused it; probably one of her father's infamous jokes.

“Do you think we could ever be like that?” Billy asked. “After we've been married for twenty years, had a couple of kids, maybe a grandchild or three, and are happy in our home, that we'll be the ones standing in front of the kitchen window, laughing together?”

Olivia didn't respond; she didn't know how. This was the very question she had been unable to answer, no matter how hard she tried. That was because something important was missing from her relationship with Billy.

Love.

Having a family, growing old together, sharing moments both good and bad, needed love. She saw it in her parents, even if her mother could be difficult, and Olivia had always wanted the same for herself. She wondered if she'd ever love Billy as passionately as he did her, if at all. She just didn't
feel
it. He didn't make her heart flutter. She didn't count the time until she could see him again. He hadn't filled her with a desire to kiss him. To make matters worse, meeting Peter Baird had troubled the already muddy waters; he had stirred unfamiliar feelings inside her, some of them the same emotions she'd never felt with Billy.

Questions filled her. Could things between them change? Would it take months, maybe even years, for the love to come? Without it, how could they hope to get to where her mother and father were? What if she gave in and married him? Would she spend the rest of her life regretting her decision? Would she be giving up her dreams of love? Would everything between them, especially their friendship, be ruined, just as Billy had feared? In her desire not to hurt Billy, would she only end up hurting them both?

“Billy, we need to—” she began, determined to find a way to talk about what she was feeling, to give voice to her worries. But when she turned toward him, Olivia found that Billy had already come closer, his face mere inches away. His eyes roamed across her face, so imploring that it felt as if he were asking her something. “What?” she asked, as if that was precisely what he'd done.

Instead of answering with words, Billy reached over and tenderly placed his fingers against the curve of her cheek. Ever so slightly, so softly that Olivia wondered if she was imagining it, he turned her head toward him and moved forward. Time felt as if it was standing still, her pounding heart marking the countless seconds that should have passed, as Billy drew closer. At the last moment, Olivia closed her eyes. When his lips touched hers, Olivia reached out and grabbed Billy's shoulder, squeezing tightly. It was all so sudden, so unexpected, that she became swept up in the moment. Hope filled her; maybe there was a chance, maybe there was a fire waiting to be kindled…But then, as their kiss lengthened, Billy's passion steadily growing, Olivia's waned; to her it felt forced, unnatural, and lacking in the romance she knew it needed. Still, she didn't stop it; unwilling to hurt him, she made no move to push him away.