The Opposite of Wild (13 page)

Until one day, she’d had her period with bad cramps; having gotten her first period six months earlier, she wholeheartedly agreed it was a curse. The pain was bad, and Midol couldn’t touch it. She hadn’t wanted to miss a single day of seeing her love on the lifeguard stand, so, not comfortable inserting a tampon
down there
, she’d worn a maxipad in her swimsuit and put shorts over top.

Rachel had been her loyal companion that summer, listening to her rhapsodize about Ryan’s many virtues, poring over her Ryan journal. (She’d burned that embarrassing proof of her folly.) That day Rachel had been stuck in a long line at the snack stand, getting them a bottled water to share and two Fudgsicles, while she’d rested in a beach chair, trying to wait out an intensely painful cramp before she approached Ryan.

The pain passed, and even better, Nicole and Angela, two senior girls with huge breasts popping out of their teeny bikinis, were in the water cooling off instead of flirting with Ryan. She approached the lifeguard stand and looked up at her love.

“Hi, Ryan,” she said. “Anybody sink in the lake yet?” Yes, she was the master of scintillating conversation.

“No,” he said, smiling down at her. “Not yet. Don’t you be the first.”

She shook her head, instantly flushing bright red. She tried to think of another question when the pain came back. It was bad. Her ears started ringing, and she felt lightheaded. A moment later, she collapsed on the sand.

“Are you okay?” he asked, now standing in front of her.

She nodded and threw up on his beautiful golden bare feet.

He jumped back. “Ah! Gross.” Then with authority, “Someone call nine-one-one!”

She couldn’t believe she’d thrown up on his feet. It was the worst. He was so close now; he’d never been this close. He squatted down to look in her face.

“It’s okay,” she managed. “I’m fine.”

Then she threw up on his feet again.
Could’ve been worse
, she thought dimly.
I could’ve gotten his beautiful face.
She lay on her side in the sand and prayed for death. Or quicksand to swallow her whole. People were staring, but she was so exhausted, and her ears still had a slight ringing to them.

Rachel appeared at her side with the water and Fudgsicles.

“Rachel!”

Rachel leaned close. “What happened?”

“It’s just cramps,” she whispered. “Call my mom, no hospital.”

“Here, take the water.” She shoved it in Liz’s hand. “I’ll call her Mom,” Rachel told Ryan. “She’ll be fine. This happens sometimes. She doesn’t need a hospital.”

“Okay,” Ryan said, looking unsure.

Rachel took off for the payphone by the snack stand.

“You have sunstroke,” Ryan said, kneeling by her side and sliding his arm under her shoulders. “I need to get you to shade.” His other arm went under her knees, and he scooped her up, staggered to a stand, and took a few steps before she dropped suddenly in his arms.

“Ah!” she screamed. He was going to drop her. She was too heavy.

“I’ve got you,” he assured her, even though she was hanging low in his arms and he couldn’t seem to move. “Chase! Give me a hand.”

Chase, the biggest football player at Clover Park High, jogged over. He grabbed her legs while Ryan lifted under her armpits, and together they carried her to the shade of the picnic area, where they set her on top of a picnic table.

“Drink some water,” Ryan instructed.

She propped herself up on one elbow and sipped at the water. His feet were now covered with sand stuck to the vomit, and she felt a deep shame.

Rachel returned in a rush. “Your mom will be here in five minutes. You guys can go, thanks.”

Liz lay down, turning her head to the side, watching the two boys walk away. Chase puffed out his cheeks and pretended he was staggering under her weight.

Ryan laughed.

Chase made a rumbling comment she couldn’t make out. Then she clearly heard Ryan say, “I have to help everyone. You can’t just help the hot ones.”

Liz closed her eyes against the pain of her heart and body. She heard a rumbled reply, more laughter.

“Don’t listen to them,” Rachel said. “They’re stupid teenage boys. Their brains are the size of peas.”

“Oh, Rach—” She broke down in tears.

The next day she’d given up her usual diet of French fries, burgers, and unlimited sodas from Garner’s Sports Bar & Grill and switched to salads, light sandwiches, fruit, and water. That combined with an hour of dancing in her room every day, behind closed doors, made the pounds melt away. She’d liked the control she’d had over her body by controlling food. It gave her confidence. She started to apply that control with great success to her study habits, her money saved up from babysitting jobs, and keeping Daisy out of trouble. There wasn’t a single area of her life that wasn’t made better by precise control over the small details. She liked it that way, and she was good at it.

She sighed and turned off the treadmill. Every thought of Ryan’s dark good looks, his rare smile, his confidence, and take-charge manner would be forever clouded by the fact that he thought she was the ugly duckling that he
had
to help when she’d thought he was a golden god.

She got into the shower and relaxed under the warm spray. That’s when she decided Rachel had it right; just put it out to the Universe, and a guy would happen along. Didn’t have to be Ryan. She wanted simple and sweet. Just a little fun. Someone more like Shane.

But there’s no spark when Shane touches you
, a little voice inside her head whispered.

Oh, shut up
, her bigger, bossy voice responded. Bossy was usually right.

Chapter Twelve

“It’s time I found myself a lover,” Maggie announced when Liz sat down for tea two days later in Maggie’s living room.

Liz promptly choked on her tea. “A l-l-lover,” she stuttered out. It was like Maggie had read her mind and taken the idea for herself.

“That’s right,” Maggie confirmed. “I’ve been a widow for twenty years. It’s time.” She sipped her tea, looking relaxed and happy. With a twinkle in her eye, she confided, “I’ve been reading some of those romance novels to get my juices cooking.”

Liz swallowed hard. She did not want to be talking about anyone’s juices, let alone Ryan’s grandmother’s. She pushed the horrifying vision of a naked wrinkled Maggie hitting the sheets with a naked wrinkled old man firmly out of her mind.

“Well, I don’t know,” Liz began gently, hoping to dash any romantic hopes on the senior citizen front. If Ryan had a problem with Maggie ziplining, imagine what he’d do if he knew she was, er, back in the saddle. “Maybe—”

“I lost my Patrick about three years before the boys came to me,” Maggie confided. “Heart attack.” She put her hand on her heart, and a look of sorrow crossed her face. “He was young, only fifty. It was so sudden.” She shook her head. “Then those boys. Those poor boys. Losing their mother like that. And my son, well, Jack lost not just his wife but himself that day.” Her eyes were shiny with tears, remembering.

Liz reached out to where her friend sat on the loveseat and squeezed her hand. Maggie patted her hand and let go.

Maggie continued, “Now, don’t you worry. Jack’s doing well now. Got himself a girlfriend last year. He’s back in church, not our church, one of them born-again kinds with a band and electric guitars, but it’s church, and he’s straight as an arrow once more.”

Liz had heard that Ryan’s father had moved to nearby Fieldridge a few years ago, wanting to reconnect with his sons. She hoped he had, for their sake.

“Anyway, what was I saying?” Maggie asked. “Oh, yes, my boys. Two months after that horrible business with my daughter-in-law, I get a call from Ryan to come get them. Jack’s been gone two weeks, and they’re running out of food. You’d better believe I got in the car and drove two hours straight to New Jersey and got them boys. And so our new life began together. I was so busy with them I never gave a second thought to dating.” Her eyes sparkled with merriment. “And they were a handful. Travis especially, so angry that boy. And Ryan trying to shoulder the load by himself for so long.”

“It sounds like a very difficult situation for everyone,” Liz said.

Maggie sighed and looked down at her tea. “Their mother battled depression, and, from what I found out later, Ryan had been picking up the slack for her for a long time.” She looked at Liz, regret in her eyes. “I wish I had known. No one knew how bad it was until it was too late.” She shook her head. “But those boys were the best thing that ever happened to me. Life changing, like my accident.” She paused and raised her palms up in a gesture that asked for understanding. “Liz, I’m tired of being alone. Of living alone. I want someone warming my bed and fixing me breakfast in the morning. Do you understand?”

Liz swallowed over the lump in her throat. “Yes, I do.” She wanted that, too, and the kids to go with that domestic scene. “What are we going to do?”

Maggie paused, looking at her quizzically. “
We
, my dear?”

Liz shook her head once. “I mean you, of course. What are
you
going to do?”

“I’m going to get me some lube. And I signed up for ballroom dance lessons.”

An involuntary gasp escaped from Liz. She was still reeling from the lube announcement when Maggie went on.

“You know dancing is really just foreplay. That’s how I met my Patrick. At a Catholic singles dance. And, woo, did we get busy after that.”

Liz’s cheeks heated. “I see,” she managed.

“Dance lessons start tonight,” Maggie said. “Come with me. Maybe you’ll meet someone too.”

She should try to meet someone. “Sure,” Liz said. “Can I bring Rachel along?” If she was going to meet someone, then Rachel had to meet someone too.

“The more the merrier! I got us some condoms too.” Maggie reached for her purse and pulled out a strip of condoms that proclaimed in large print, Extra-Sensitive Lubricated. “Gotta be safe, even at my age, what with the SDTs and all that.”

“Oh!” Liz decided not to correct her on the STDs, just to End This Conversation. “That’s…smart. You keep them. I’m sure I won’t be needing them.”

“I’ll pack a little extra in my purse. Just in case.” Maggie winked.

The doorbell rang.
Thank God.

“Come in,” Maggie called. “It’s open.”

Ryan walked in, holding a bag of groceries in each arm. He was early today. “How many times have I told you to lock your door…” He trailed off, looking from one woman to the other. “Hey, Liz, what’s going on? Why are you so red?”

Maggie giggled.

Liz stood and waved him off. “I was just laughing so hard at something your grandmother said. I’d better be going.”

“Bye, Liz!” Maggie called. “She’s a fine girl, Ryan,” Maggie announced right in front of Liz.

Ryan didn’t step out of Liz’s way, and she was forced to turn sideways to slip between him and the loveseat in the tightly packed room. Close enough she could feel his heat.

“She is a fine girl, Gran.” He grinned down at Liz, and her face burned hotter.

“Bye!” Liz called as she hurried out the door, completely rattled. Her mind careened from the strip of condoms to Ryan’s sudden arrival. The timing felt like a sign from above.
It didn’t mean anything, it didn’t mean anything
, she chanted to herself as she slid into her car and drove away. She could only pray that Maggie hadn’t told Ryan her newest plans. Liz didn’t think she could bring herself to discuss it.

~ ~ ~

Ryan headed into Gran’s kitchen to put away the groceries, thinking of Liz. He could admit it—he wanted her. More than he’d wanted anyone in his life. She was intriguing. Cool and controlled, but at the same time, hot. He didn’t know if many people saw that about her, but he did. She practically sparked fire for him. He knew instinctively how to get hot Liz to come out and play. He knew they’d be good together in bed. And,
dammit
, she wanted him too. He knew by the way she’d kissed him that night, the way her breathing revved up when they got close to each other. But she’d turned him down flat.
Because you’re
…what? Whatever Liz had been about to say before her father interrupted, he knew it wasn’t good.

“I’m glad you sent her to me,” Gran said, appearing in the kitchen. “She needs me.”

It was the other way around, but Ryan knew better than to correct her. He inclined his head and pulled the milk and butter out of the bag.

“Any potato chips in there?” Gran asked, peeking into the bag.

“Not unless Dr. Gold is recommending them for your cholesterol.”

“Bah!” She pulled the whole wheat bread out and put it away.

“So, what are you and Liz up to?” Ryan asked, pausing to meet her eyes. He could tell a lie or evasion from a mile away. Gran had a tell—she smoothed her hair in place.

“A little tea, a little conversation,” she said, smoothing her hair back behind her ear.

“And?” he prompted.

“Why do you want to know? Planning on joining us?” Gran asked, hand on her hip, bold in a way she never was before the accident.
What happened to the sweet woman I used to know?

“Should I be?” he asked.

“If you like,” Gran answered.

He set the carton of milk in the refrigerator along with some eggs and butter; then he shut the door and turned to Gran. The woman who rescued him and his brothers when they were too young to rescue themselves, who he loved more than anyone, who no harm was ever going to come to as long as he drew breath. “On a scale of one to ten, where does it rank on the danger scale? Ten being a zipline tour.” He shook his head, still finding it hard to believe his grandmother had gone ziplining. And Liz had gone along with it! If that flimsy zipline had broken…he didn’t even want to think about it.

“Zero. Zero danger at all.” She lifted her chin. “We’re going ballroom dancing.”

“Ballroom dancing. That sounds safe.”

“So you’ll join us? I’m sure Liz would like to have you for a partner.”

He snorted. Liz didn’t want to spend any more time than she had to with him. Just look at how she booked it out of here when he’d shown up. Anyway, he didn’t dance. And if she was into ballroom dance, Shane was more her speed. “No dancing for me.”