“Lindsey?” Bradley sounded incredulous. I just stood there, letting his eyes rove over me. Just like Bradley had long ago, I’d gone for the Hail Mary tonight.
I’d worn my new jeans and Marilyn boots and my tight, nude lace camisole and dusty pink suede jacket. My hair was loose and wavy, and I’d spent half an hour on my makeup. Bradley was the first person who’d known the old me to see me this way. I pleaded with him with my eyes to like me.
“You look beautiful!” he said, opening the door so I could come inside.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Did you do something with your hair?” he said.
“I probably need a haircut.” I laughed. “I’ve just been so busy.”
“I like it like this,” he said.
“Yeah?” I asked. His compliment felt loaded with significance. He liked it. He liked
me
.
“Yeah,” he said, giving me the once-over again. His look warmed me like sunshine as it traveled over me. A giddy happiness welled up inside me. “Definitely.”
We smiled at each other, then Bradley said, “Let me give you the five-second tour.”
“I believe I paid for the ten-second tour,” I mock-
complained.
“Okay, then we’ll walk through the place twice,” he said. “Living room, obviously, and back there is the eat-in kitchen—”
“Oh, Bradley,” I said, cutting him off as I walked into his living room. It was filled with photographs, dozens and dozens of photographs. My eyes flitted around the room, soaking in the beauty of Bradley’s work. There was a picture of an old man clutching his metal lunch box at the bus stop, his face a weary road map of wrinkles and lines but his posture straight and proud. There was a little girl chasing a firefly through a field, her eyes big and smile bigger as she came close to capturing magic in her hands. There was a black-and-white photo of a pair of entwined hands—a man’s and a woman’s, and I knew instantly that they’d been married for decades, and that they were still in love. Bradley’s photographs were more than fleeting snapshots of moments in time. They told entire stories.
There was also a picture of me.
I was about sixteen, and I was studying at Bradley’s parents’ kitchen table. I’d been puzzling over an English essay, chewing the end of a pencil. Squares of sunlight filtered in from the paned window behind me and fell on my dark hair.
“I don’t even remember you taking this one,” I said. I couldn’t
help smiling; Bradley had a picture of me in his living room. He’d kept it for all these years.
Bradley came up and stood behind me.
“God, we were so young,” I said, turning around to look at him.
“I know,” he said. “Sometimes I feel like so much has changed, but other times it seems like everything’s the same.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” I said. I kept my eyes on his for an extra beat, hoping he’d know what had stayed the same for me and what had changed. My feelings for him had done both.
Bradley was the first to break the moment.
“Let me show you the upstairs,” he said, leading the way. The old wooden stairs creaked comfortably as we stepped on them.
“Bedroom—whoops, forgot to make the bed—bathroom, guest room,” he said.
“It’s perfect,” I said, and it was. On one wall, instead of paintings, Bradley had hung a trio of antique cameras. His old guitar was propped in a corner. Dark wood bookshelves lined the walls of his bedroom, and they were filled with history books and biographies. I saw a pair of ten-pound hand weights in a corner and hid my smile, remembering Bradley’s single-minded devotion to Wheaties.
“How long have you been living here?” I asked.
“I bought it last year,” Bradley said. “I love the neighborhood. There was a ton of work to do on it at first, but it’s getting there. And it’s only twenty minutes to Dad’s, so we get together once a week or so.”
“I’d love to see him again,” I said.
“I’ll call you next time I go over,” he said. “He’s dating this new woman, and I think it’s getting pretty serious. She’s an environmental lawyer.”
“Do you like her?” I asked.
“I do,” he said. “She’s perfect for Dad; you’ll see when you meet her.”
I clung to that promise: He wanted me to meet the woman his father was dating. Our lives were weaving together again.
“So am I dressed okay for wherever we’re going? Or should I change into something nicer?” Bradley asked.
“You look perfect,” I said. I cleared my throat and looked away; I hadn’t meant to sound quite so fervent.
I led the way to my vehicle of seduction—the battered old station wagon with Dad’s bifocals and Tums littering the front seat—and headed north, toward Maryland.
“You’re not even going to give me a hint?” Bradley said, flicking on the radio and leaning back in his seat. Bruce Springsteen started singing about girls in summer clothes, and I rolled down the window. Summer would be here soon, just like Springsteen was promising; the air was warm and moist and filled with promise. What would it be like to spend the summer with Bradley? To drive down to the beach for the weekend on a whim, or to spend the evening on his front porch, leaning over to give him a kiss as we shared a cold beer?
“No hints,” I said. I’d been so nervous about tonight, but now I felt nothing but exhilaration. Bradley was sneaking little looks at me, as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. It was a gorgeous night. Everything was perfect.
As I pulled up at a stoplight, my phone rang inside my purse. Unbelievable; it was Alex calling. Did she have some sort of home wrecker’s ESP?
“Aren’t you going to answer that?” Bradley said.
“It’s not important,” I said, pushing the button to turn it off and dropping it back into my purse as I smiled at Bradley. Alex wasn’t going to intrude again. Not tonight.
“Hey, I recognize this place,” Bradley said as I pulled into the parking lot and turned off the ignition.
Our old high school hadn’t changed a bit. I’d called the front office earlier in the week to make sure there weren’t any events at the school tonight; with my luck, they’d have been staging a production of
Oklahoma!
and I’d’ve had to woo Bradley over the high-pitched strains of “The Surrey with the Fringe on Top.” But the place was deserted.
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s take a walk around for old times’ sake.”
We got out of the car, and I led the way to the back of the school. The ladder I’d put there an hour ago was still in place.
“No way,” Bradley said, starting to laugh. Then his voice dropped to a whisper: “They could revoke our diplomas.”
“I did not say that!” I protested, punching him lightly on the arm.
“Ready to climb?” he said. “Want me to go first?”
“I’ll go first this time,” I said, clutching the edges of the ladder. I exhaled and climbed up, forcing myself not to look down as Bradley shouted encouragement from below. It was easier this time; of course, I’d had a lot of practice earlier tonight.
When I reached the top, I quickly looked around. Everything was still there. Everything was perfect.
“Whoa,” Bradley said when he reached the top of the ladder. He stayed there, on the final rung of the ladder, as he looked around.
The red-checked tablecloth and picnic basket I’d brought by earlier were laid out in the center of the roof. I’d added a few flourishes of my own—a little bunch of blue irises, a few chunky candles in hurricane vases—but other than that, everything was exactly as it had been eleven years ago. It was only the ending that I wanted to rewrite.
“Lindsey—” Bradley started to say. Then he stopped. He seemed too stunned to talk.
“Hope you don’t mind that I substituted wine for sparkling cider,” I said, holding up a bottle. I’d peeled off the price tag so Bradley wouldn’t know how much I’d spent on it.
“No, this is—” He swept his hand around, encompassing it all. “Wow.”
I walked over to one of the cushions I’d laid out next to the tablecloth and stood there, waiting for Bradley to join me. But he was still perched on the top rung of that ladder. A cold twinge of unease worked its way up my spine.
“Coming?” I asked.
“Oh, sorry,” he said. “I was just—”
Once again, he didn’t finish his sentence. He walked over and sat down on the cushion next to me. Maybe he needed a little time to absorb what was happening. I’d had months to get used to the fact that my feelings for Bradley had changed; this must all have been coming at him like a fastball. And I’d hurt Bradley badly before; naturally he’d be careful about opening his heart to me again.
I’d take things slowly. I should’ve thought of that.
“I’m thinking of opening a restaurant here,” I said lightly. “Picnics ‘R’ Us.”
“Great idea,” Bradley said. He took a sip of wine and looked down into the glass. Why wasn’t he looking at me? Why couldn’t he seem to meet my eyes?
“Of course, I’ll have to give the customers a fitness test first,” I said. “Make sure they can climb the ladder.”
“Won’t that scare some of them away?” Bradley said.
“Yeah, but that’s probably a good thing,” I said. “I’ve only got one picnic basket.”
Bradley laughed.
“Cheese and crackers?” I offered enticingly. I’ve always been a seductress like that. “I’ve got summer sausage, too.”
“Sure,” Bradley said, accepting the plate I handed him. In
stead of Brie, I’d bought sharp Cheddar, which I knew he preferred. I wanted him to notice; I wanted him to feel like I’d put a lot of care into tonight.
“Cheers,” I said, clinking my glass to his.
Bradley took a little sip of wine. “I can’t believe you did all this.”
“It wasn’t such a big deal,” I said. “And you did it for me long ago.”
Bradley took a bite of cheese and cracker.
“Lindsey,” he said after he’d swallowed. “I’m really glad we’ve stayed friends.”
“Me too,” I said. His tone was so caring, and so were his words. That had to be a good thing, didn’t it?
“So how long are you going to stay in town?” he asked. “I know you’re scoping out opening a new office here, but will you stay and run it, or are you going back to New York?”
“Here’s the thing,” I said. I felt like May must’ve all those years ago, staring down into that impossibly faraway pool of water, knowing I had only one way to get there.
“I haven’t told my family yet, but I’m thinking about changing jobs,” I blurted out. I needed Bradley to know this; I needed him to know everything about me, all the confusing, jagged, tumultuous bits. If I wanted a relationship with him, I had to be honest with him.
“I got this offer the other day from a dating service, believe it or not.”
“Seriously?” Bradley said. “But I thought you loved your job.”
“Not so much,” I said slowly. “I mean, there are things about it that I love, but the stress was getting to me. Slowing down sounds kind of nice. My old job didn’t leave me a lot of time for anything but work. And there’s more to life than advertising.”
Bradley nodded. “Good for you.”
“Really?” I said. “Because it’s one of the scariest things I’ve ever done. Almost as bad as climbing that ladder.”
Bradley grinned. He seemed more relaxed now. He was meeting my eyes again. I hadn’t realized I’d been clenching my wineglass so tightly; I loosened my grip and felt the blood flow back into my fingers.
“You’ll be successful at whatever you do,” he said. “So tell me about the job.”
“I’m a matchmaker,” I said. “Can you believe it?”
Bradley threw back his head and laughed. “That’s fantastic. I never would’ve guessed.”
“It kind of happened by accident,” I said. “But I met this great woman, and we got to talking, and she offered me a job. And I really like it.”
“That’s all that matters,” Bradley said. “I’m really happy for you.”
“I haven’t told anyone else yet,” I said.
I swear I didn’t plan to say my next sentence. It just escaped from me, and the minute I said the words, I wanted to snatch them back. “I wanted you to know first.”
A shadow passed over Bradley’s face, and he looked down. Oh, God, I’d made a mistake; I had to cover it up, quickly.
“Do you want some more wine?” I offered.
“No, I’m good,” he said. He’d barely touched his glass.
“Sure?” I said. “I’m driving. You can go crazy.”
“I’m good. But thanks.”
“More cheese?” I asked. Now I was losing it; my voice was high and anxious. I was desperately trying to sound lighthearted, but it was backfiring.
“No, this is perfect,” Bradley said. He’d barely touched his food, either. His body language was all wrong; his arms were crossed, and he sat up rigidly, as if he was perched on a pile of stones instead of the soft cushion I’d chosen at Pier 1 earlier today.
“And save room for dessert,” I babbled. “I brought your favorite.”
“Lindsey,” Bradley said. Just that one word, said ever so gently. How could my name hurt so much?
I looked down at my little vase of blue flowers and felt tears prick my eyes.
“You know how much I care about you,” Bradley said. “I always have.”