Unbelievable (38 page)

“Yuck!” She grabbed a napkin and scraped off her tongue.

“What is it?” I reached for the box.

“Chocolate covered crickets,” she groaned. “I ate bugs!”

“Really? I wouldn’t think Dave’s Deli had random food like that.” I squinted at the discarded bugs in the grass.

“These aren’t from Dave’s; they’re from Liew Hui’s Chinese Deli, on Main next to the library.” She lay back in the grass and laughed.

I picked up a scattered chocolate bug, eyeing it carefully. “You have to admit, they’re pretty good.” I had it halfway to my mouth when Lilah grabbed my arm.

“Just so you know, if you eat that, I will never kiss you again.” She shivered dramatically.

“Want to bet?” I bounced my eyebrows. Yeah, I was getting the hang of this whole flirting thing if I did say so.

“Wait, if you lost the bet, and I lost the bet,” she said, ripping the bug from my hand and tossing it away, “that means we owe each other about twelve minutes of kissing.” As she spoke she pressed me back in the grass and settled on my chest.

“Hold on. Let me get my phone. I definitely want to tape this.” My hand searched around on the blanket as Lilah kissed my neck.

“You won’t need to record it, Cole, because I guarantee you won’t forget it.”

Man alive, she got that right. If they removed my entire brain, I’d never forget the kiss in the park, under the oak tree, on a warm summer’s day, with the girl I loved.

Lilah insisted I record us riding the motorcycle. She wanted to be sure I’d remembered my new adventurous side. She sat behind me and wrapped her arms around my body, holding the phone out in front of us as we drove up and down the streets of Port Fare.

We went salsa dancing at a local club that evening. A sweet older couple recorded us dancing to
Livin' La Vida Loca
. After the song, I wrapped my arm around her waist as she threw her head back and laughed.

“I love Ricky Martin,” she shouted above the next song as we made our way back to the table.

“He’s gay, you know.”

“Yes. All the good looking ones are.” She sighed longingly.

“Now wait a minute. I got the
Moves like Jagger
.” I jetted my head back and forth in Jagger
esque
style.

“You’re much better than Jagger. You have the whole
Shake Your
Bon Bon
thing going on,” she teased, quoting another of Ricky’s songs.

We sat at our table and watched the video of us dancing. “You got it going on, Opie.” She tugged playfully on my shirt. “While we were dancing I thought of another memory we could make.” She smiled at me seductively.

“Do I want to hear this in public?”

“We could take our clothes off and go dancing in the rain. You know, like the lyrics of the song we just danced to,” she suggested. “You’d remember that.”

“Lilah,” I said, shaking my head. Thankfully there wasn’t a rain cloud in the sky, which made the idea impossible.

“What happened to the new, spontaneous Cole?” she teased, walking her fingers up my arm.

“Spontaneous, not insane. There’s a difference.” I grabbed her hand and kissed it.

Not sure if it was the loud music, the hot stuffy air of the overcrowded club, or if my tumor was to blame, but my head sat on the verge of exploding after a few more dances
, so we left. We went to Seth’s and enjoyed the clear night sky from the comfort of his front porch swing. Lilah fell asleep on my shoulder, and I slipped my arm around her, holding her close as a tear escaped my eyes. For about the hundredth time since I’d learned about the tumor, I again prayed:
Please don’t let me forget her. Please.

Chapter
31

Lilah

Cole met me at his house early the next morning. He wanted to get some video of me painting the living room before going fishing with Seth and Booker. Maggie decided to spend the day with me, mostly because she hated fishing. She denied it, but I think the real reason she stayed was Cole. I had a sneaking suspicion he’d asked her so I wouldn’t be alone. I did my best to hide my angst, but Cole saw through it.

“How’s the head?” I asked Cole, hopping up on the counter in the kitchen so we were almost eye to eye.

“Not bad,” he said, planting his hands on the counter, encircling me as he kissed my neck. “And this helps me forget about it.”

“Good,” I said before bringing his mouth to mine. I held him there, reveling in the moment. I wanted to enjoy every last second of Cole that I could in case he wanted nothing to do with me after the surgery. I struggled to block all the dark thoughts, but truthfully they consumed me.

Seth strolled into the kitchen, ruining the wonderful memory I worked hard to create.

“Sorry,” Seth said, stepping back out and disappearing. I jumped down from the counter and ran my hands through Cole’s hair to smooth out the mess I’d made of it. We walked into the living
room as Seth and Maggie finished spreading tarps to protect the carpet while we painted. Maggie then ran back outside to grab some supplies from her car.

“So you’re really going to try fishing again? Booker and Seth aren’t worried you’ll embed them with hooks?” I gently teased Cole. “Although I wouldn’t be upset if you snagged Booker . . . several hundred times.”

“Booker had some work to do so he won’t meet up with us for a few hours, but I’ll do what I can,” Cole replied.  “I enjoyed the one time I went fishing, despite all the mishaps.” He scrunched his face, probably at an unpleasant memory. “Anyway, you forget I’m the new Cole. Adventurous. A daredevil. I laugh in the face of danger.”

“Okay, my hero. Be careful.” I kissed his cheek, and watched with a touch of sadness as he left with Seth.

I showed Maggie how to give walls a Tuscan look, and she caught on quickly. “This is nice,” she said, spreading the brownish-red glaze over the warm tan living room walls. “It really does look Tuscan.” She stepped back to examine it again. “This beats fishing any day.”

Booker showed up after we’d finished the main wall. He came in, grunted at me, and ran his hand through Maggie’s hair, messing it up.

“Bad kitty,” she said, slapping at his hands. “I thought you were going fishing with Seth and Cole,” Maggie called after him as he started upstairs.

“I am. I have to get a couple measurements and then I’m off. But don’t worry, I have someone watching over everything.”

“I’m not worried,” she snapped back.

Yesterday, out of the clear blue, Booker decided now would be the perfect time to finish the upstairs even though Cole and he had talked about it for over two years. More like an excuse to keep an eye on me. Whatever.

My cell phone rang, startling me. If it wasn’t Cole, that meant it was most likely Daddy.

Restricted
. “It’s my dad,” I said to Maggie as she set her paint brush aside. Booker raced down the few steps he’d climbed, his cell phone pressed to his ear, whispering to whoever was on the other end. “Hello.” I waited a moment for the familiar voice.

“I want that number,” Daddy demanded.

“Okay. Do you . . .” I glanced at Maggie with her now waxy white face and walked outside. She didn’t need to hear this.

“Lilah?” my father snapped, wheezing.

“Did you write it down?” I asked, acting as if I’d given it to him already, in hopes of explaining the long silence.

“No. We must have been cut off. Say it again.”

Hoping to drag out the call, I quickly rattled off the phone number to the hospital, throwing in half my social security number.

“Princess! How am I supposed to write that fast?” He coughed again. “Slow it down.” I began repeating the number, only this time, I moved the phone close to my mouth, then far away, even scratching my finger nails over the phone, hoping it sounded like static. He interrupted me halfway through.

“I can’t hear you. I’ll call back later.”

“No, wait. I’m standing by some power lines. Let me cross the street and see if that’s better.” He grumbled something but didn’t hang up. I sat down on the wood porch steps and waited. It’d been almost
three minutes now. Surely they could get something this time.

“Okay, are you ready?” I asked, but the line was dead.

Booker came flying out the door, almost crashing into me, pressing his cell phone to his ear.

“Did you get it?” he asked into the phone. He gritted his teeth and spun around, smacking the door with his hand before hanging up.

“I kept him on for three minutes this time,” I pointed out before he could yell at me.

He nodded. “I know. You did good.” My eyes widened at his almost compliment. “He’s in Mexico, that’s as close as we got.”

“Mexico? Just like I said.” I watched him for a reaction, but he gave nothing away.

“Why did you step outside? You know we’re monitoring your calls, it doesn’t matter where you are.” He seemed genuine in his question instead of his usually sarcastic edge.

“I did it for Maggie. She looked like she was going to faint when she heard it was my dad, so I stepped out.”

He eyed me again, this time offering a curt nod. “What were the numbers you gave him?”

“The phone number to the hospital and part of my social security number.”

“And you don’t think he’ll figure that out? Or was that your plan all along?”

I ignored him and his paranoia and went back inside as he got in his ugly car and left.

Our Tuscan finish took less time than I thought. Maggie helped me clean up the mess and left. I had a good hour to kill before Cole would be home. Exhausted, I curled up on the floor, wedging the paint tarp under my head for a makeshift pillow. I fell asleep with painting techniques on my mind, glad that for once it wasn’t Daddy or Alan.

“Stop it, Alan, or I’m telling dad.” I grabbed what remained of my dress and held it against me
. No, not again. I tried ending the dream, screaming to myself it was not really happening, but it continued, despite my efforts.

“Delilah, wake up,” a voice called to me. Not a good voice. It didn’t offer comfort or safety. I continued fighting against Alan.

“Please don’t!”

Someone nudged me. “Delilah, wake up.” Alan’s touch turned painful, as always. I didn’t like the voice urging me to wake, but I hated what Alan was doing to me more. I went to the voice, prying my eyes back.

Two cold brown eyes glared at me. I recoiled against the wall behind me, screaming out in fear. The figure stepped back.

“Delilah, it’s me.” Booker glared with what I guessed to be a touch of guilt on his face.
Good
. I gained my composure and stood.

“What are you doing here? I thought you left to go fishing.” I stood, smoothing my hair into place.

“We just got back. Seth and Cole stopped to pick up some food for dinner. But you and I need to talk,” Booker said in a tone that resembled a demand more than a suggestion. I ignored him and turned for the kitchen. “Delilah, I want to talk,” he repeated.

“Talk. No one’s stopping you. I’m thirsty.” I smiled, imagining him turning red with anger, if the stomping of his feet behind me were any indication.

“I want to call a truce,” Booker said as we entered the beautiful kitchen he’d built.

“Why the change of heart, Gatto?” I poured myself a glass of ice water, noting the three bandages on his right hand that weren’t there when he left. I grinned into my cup, knowing who put them there.
Good job, honey
.

“No change of heart, Delilah. I’m tired of being at odds with my friends so I’ll make you a little deal.” He stepped around to the opposite side of the island. “I’ll treat you with respect in front of Cole, Maggie
, and Seth, and you do the same to me.”

“You think I’m going to help you save face with your friends? Give me one good reason why I should,” I sneered.

“The contention that exists between us—”

“That you cause,” I bit out.

“The tension between us,” he continued as if I’d said nothing, “is wearing on Cole, especially now with the tumor. If you care about him as much as you
claim
, you’ll want this, too.”