The Calendar of New Beginnings (16 page)

She wasn’t exactly surprised, but her spirits sank all the same. “Really?”

He rubbed her arm. “One of those blue-green colors. Like aquamarine.”

She started tracing the scuffed-up metal edge of the table as she tried to shake off her tension.
 

“I’d forgotten how much you like vintage,” he said, watching her carefully. “You were always wearing something old in high school. Antique.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and let herself fall into their usual easy banter. “It was fashionable. Besides, I like things that have a story.”

“This table sure has a story,” he mused, shaking his head. “I shudder to think what your bed looks like. Princess and the pea meets…Marie Antoinette or something.”

Snorting on a laugh, she said, “It’s one of those old-school brass beds.”

He started laughing. “You’ll have to show it to me.” Then a shadow passed his face. “If that’s not too weird.”

“Weird? Why would that be weird?”

When he shrugged and looked away from her, she asked, “Are you acting all awkward because you asked to see my princess bed?”

He swung his gaze to meet hers, and she noted a flush on his ears.

“Seriously?
It’s only a bed, Andy Cakes.” But her heart started hammering. Had she been right the other night? Had he been thinking about her in a weird way?
 

If so, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. They’d been friends forever. He was not going to mess it up by turning all guy on her. Not Andy. She set her beer aside and grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the chair.

“What are you doing?” he cried as she led him out of the kitchen, back through the parlor, and down the short hallway on the right side of the house.

“Getting this whole bed thing out of the way,” she said, ever rational.

“Come on, Lucy,” he responded, tugging on her hand. “I don’t need to see it. You’re embarrassing me here.”

“You’re making too big a deal of it,” she said as she hauled him into her room. Haul was a strong word. She was too weak to haul anyone.

“Now
you’re
being weird,” he said, forcing her to a halt in the doorway.

Yeah, she was, but she wasn’t going to allow any weirdness between them. “Ta-da!” she exclaimed, sweeping her free hand across the room. “One antique brass princess bed.”

“Great!” he said, his cheeks flushed now. “I’ve seen the bed. Can we go back to the kitchen, please, and drink our beers?”

Teasing him was too fun to pass up. She let go of his hand and ran across the short expanse of the bedroom, kicking off her shoes as she went. She jumped on the bed, careful of her mending back, and gave it a gentle bounce, making it squeak.
 

Andy looked like she’d doused cold water on his face.

“Mom discovered how noisy the bed was, of course, when she helped me put on the linens.”

“You’re going out of your way to embarrass me,” he told her, pinching his nose. “I’d forgotten how much you love to do that. What are the scarves for?” He pointed to the row of scarves she’d arranged over the brass footboard.
 

He was trying to change the subject. “To monitor any change in my color vision. Dr. Davidson suggested I buy different shades of the color spectrum so I could monitor my progress at home. They have a retailer they recommend to patients around the corner from their office. The store person helped me select the right ones after my appointment.”

“That’s a great idea,” he said, zeroing in on the scarves, all professional now. “What color is this?” he asked, pointing to a red one.
 

That did it. “Don’t go all doctor on me. It’s weird!” she ordered, bouncing again to draw his attention away from the scarves, sending another squeak through the air. “We’re friends. There’s
nothing
weird about seeing my bed. Heck, in high school, you used to sit on it with me and do your homework. Or have you forgotten?”

Now his whole face was flushing. “That was a long time ago.”

And they hadn’t been two consenting adults then, some distant part of her mind insisted.

She narrowed her eyes at the thought. Who was getting weird now? “Did you ever think of me as a girl back when we were listening to the radio on my bed or sharing the answers to Mr. Tarleton’s horrible math homework?” Like a boil, this whole weirdness needed to be lanced. The direct approach was the best approach.

He put his hands on his hips and kicked at the worn blue wool rug covering the oak floor. The silence stretched between them, making her nervous.
Oh, no
, she thought. He really
had
thought of her that way when they were hanging out in her childhood room. More often that she’d imagined.

“I was a guy,” he finally said, lifting his shoulder. “Correction. I
am
a guy. We have strange thoughts when it comes to girls and beds. What can I say?”

For the life of her, she didn’t know.

“Why are we having this conversation?” he asked in an aggrieved tone.

“Because you got all weird on me,” she said, regretting she’d taken it this far. “It scared me. You’re my best friend, Andy. My oldest friend. Don’t get weird about my princess bed.”

The corners of his mouth tipped up. “I won’t get weird. I promise. You’re my oldest friend too, and I…I’m glad… Crap. I need to say it. You’re the only one who doesn’t treat me with kid gloves anymore.”

She inched to the edge of the bed and wrapped her hands around the brass footboard. There was something in his voice. “Kid gloves?”

“I like that you’re not afraid to call out the weird, the awkward, the tough things in life,” he said, rubbing his brow. “You never shy away from anything, Lucy. And since Kim died, you’re the only person who really listens to me and puts the tough crap on the table.”

She didn’t know any other way. “You said you were at your mother’s earlier. I’m guessing you talked about the calendar?”

“Yeah. I decided I needed to confront her.” He kicked at the rug again. “I hate how much my family worries about me. Did you know that Blake wouldn’t tell me the real reason Natalie left him because I was too mired down in my own grief?”

“What was the real reason?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, throwing his arms out. “The point is that everyone in the family knew but me. If I’d known, I would have talked to Natalie. I would have told her she was making a mistake, and maybe they wouldn’t have lost so much time together.”

There was too much missing from that story for her to parse it right now, and she wanted to get to the core of what was bothering him. “What’s really the matter here, Andy? Because I’m not following you all the way.”

He blew out an aggrieved breath. “I don’t know. I’m just…tired of people not talking to me about what really matters. I suppose I’m saying you’re the only one who does, and I…I appreciate that. Even if you didn’t initially tell me about what happened to you.”

She ran her finger along the edge of the bedframe. “I don’t think that’s what you’re saying.”

His gaze met hers.

“I think,” she continued, “you’re angry at yourself for not saying how you feel about things or asking…uncomfortable questions. Like why Natalie really left Blake. Or how you felt about your mom’s health scare. You’re mad at yourself for letting them protect you.”

He closed his eyes briefly, his pain obvious.

“Or why she couldn’t tell you she had a lump in the first place,” she finished, knowing she needed to say it. “I didn’t tell you about my accident mostly because I didn’t want
anyone
to worry. It’s important for you to know that.”
 

Since he looked like he’d lost a patient at the hospital, she pointed to a place on the bed beside her.

“Come over here,” she ordered, “and don’t get all weird on me.”

He kicked his shoes off like the responsible guy he was and sank onto the bed next to her. “This mattress is terrible.”

“It’s better than most of the ones I had overseas,” she said, scooting closer. “And don’t change the subject. You’re worried you’ve closed yourself off to the people you love and their problems.”

“Crap,” he said, leaning back on an elbow. “I really am. I keep letting them down.”

“Be nice to yourself,” she said, playfully socking his arm. “You were dealing with your own stuff. Losing Kim was horrible. I can’t even imagine how horrible. They were trying to protect you. All you did was let them.”

He gazed at her with hope in his sad eyes, which looked more dark brown than hazel to her now.
 

“It doesn’t mean you stopped loving them, Andy. So lighten up.”

She gave him a gentle nudge in the shoulder for good measure, which made him smile.

“All right, I’m lightening up,” he said, nudging her back. “Just so we’re clear, I’m expecting you to let me know how things are going because I care about you.”

“I know you do. And I care about you.” Care was a tame word, but after the earlier bed weirdness, she wasn’t about to say she loved him. Even so, she couldn’t deny that part of her had no trouble seeing him as an attractive man resting on her bed. It had been a long time since she’d had anyone in her bed, and okay, she could admit it…here be weirdness.

“You have this look on your face,” he said, touching the tip of her nose. “Now who’s getting weird?”

“Fine,” she shot out. “I was just thinking I haven’t had an attractive man in my bed in some time. How’s that for weird?”

He pursed his lips for a moment. “I was just thinking that I haven’t sat on another woman’s bed since before I started dating Kim.”

She made her mouth drop open in horror. “My God, that’s like over a decade ago.”

The snort he gave made it easier for her to shake off this…this whatever was going on with her. He made no move to stand up, so she simply crossed her legs lotus-style on the bed.

“Are you over being angry with yourself?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Do you want to cuddle now?” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

“Shut up,” he said without heat.

Scooting closer, she settled her head against his shoulder. “You’re too hard on yourself.”

“Me? Maybe, but you’re too tough,” he said, putting his arm around her.
 

“Probably,” she said, liking the comfort of his arm around her. “I wish you’d been closer after my accident. I might have called you. At night when I couldn’t sleep, all I wanted was someone to wrap me up and tell me everything was going to be all right.”

“I felt the same way when Kim was sick—and after she died.”

She had only been able to come home for the funeral, something she still felt guilty about. “No one can ever guarantee it’s going to be all right, can they? Look at me.”

He pulled her in even closer. “You’re right, but I would have come halfway around the world and more to be there for you.”

Tears gathered in her eyes as he kissed the top of her head, ever so sweetly.

“How was your first class, by the way? I got distracted. I was planning on buying you a celebratory drink.”

Since a change in conversation was more than appreciated, she ran him through the high points. He kept his arm around her as she regaled him with a description of her unconventional syllabus and the looks of horror it had painted on some of the kids’ faces. When he went still all of a sudden, she edged back to look at his face.

“What
are
you thinking?” she asked.

“I always wondered how you learned to take photos of…starving kids and people who’d died or were dying,” he said softly.

She lifted her shoulder. “I wasn’t trained to do it. I was thrown into the fire on my first couple of assignments. I bawled after visiting a hospital filled with kids dying from famine and puked my guts out after photographing my first massacre. The camera might capture the moment, but it can’t capture the sounds or the smells. I’ll never forget the buzz of flies on the bodies. And the stench.” She gave a full-body shudder. “Do you ever have a physical reaction to a patient’s illness?”

“Not much anymore. There were moments in my first year in medical school. I especially remember a young man who was brought in with a head wound. Half his head was caved in. He’d been riding his motorcycle without a helmet. I’d never seen brain matter mixed with shards of bone before. I puked my lunch out once I left the ER.”

“What happened to the man?”

“You would ask,” he mused. “He didn’t make it. Too much brain trauma. He coded on the table.”

Somehow she hadn’t realized they were linked like this through their professions. He tried to heal hurt people while she took photos of them to raise awareness and support. And both of them dealt with a reality few people faced on a daily basis: that death was a part of life.

“It’s hard,” she said, “watching people die and not being able to do anything about it.” She tucked her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. “I suppose you do something, but deep down, I don’t believe it’s only up to us. Don’t get me wrong, I always try to help whenever I can. I’ve raged at military officials for not letting humanitarian supplies through. I’ve hauled gallons of water to people in old gasoline barrels. But half the time it’s too late.”