Read me, p.19
Read Me, page 19
With a bigger audience, I know I have to give up on the argument with my dad. For now.
Instead, I smirk at my grandmother. “Is this made of yeti fur then?”
She gives me a cheeky grin. “If only. That stuff is expensive. I love you, but not enough to purchase mythical creature clothing.”
“You two,” Dad grumbles, leaving the kitchen with his eyes on the backdoor.
Mama Al, as she insisted I call her since I was old enough to talk, watches the surly form of her son retreat. “Beer can chicken?”
“Can’t change a classic,” I offer back.
“His heart?”
“We’ll make sure he sticks to white meat.” It’s the best I can do. My father doesn’t like to be managed. Hence the drawer stuffed full of bills he refuses to talk to me about.
“Now, if you would please introduce me to this darling woman you have beside you. Or is she a stranger who wandered in off the streets that I need to help shoo from the house?”
“Oh please don’t shoo me! I’ll be good, I swear!” Summer blinks up at me, making her eyes all wide and innocent looking. It’s like I’m staring down at a classic princess cartoon.
And I can’t help remembering how my first crush was Belle from Beauty and the Beast. Apparently I have a thing for brunettes obsessed with books.
Because I can, and because I know my grandmother won’t care, I pinch Summer’s chin holding her face still as I dip down for a kiss. My librarian lets out a little gasp of surprise, but doesn’t pull away.
At Mama Al’s chuckle, I break off the kiss and tilt my head, trying hard to suppress a smile.
“Summer, this is my grandmother.”
“Penelope Allemand. Call me Mama Al.” My relative holds her hand out, and Summer steps away from me to accept the offering.
“Nice to meet you, Mama Al. I love Cole’s sweater. I don’t think he’s ever looked more handsome.” When Summer loops her arm around my waist, I vow to wear more colors, more often.
“Agreed. But then, I think he gets handsomer every day.” Mama Al pats my cheek with a hand bedecked in heavy silver rings. “Now it’s a beautiful sunny Christmas Eve. No reason to spend it inside.”
“I was just looking for something to open the wine.” My eyes skip to the forbidden drawer again. “But no luck.”
Summer runs her hand over my lower back, and I love the way she uses her touch to reassure me. “I can drink beer. Or water. Or whatever. I’m easy.”
My grandma smirks. “Aren’t we all honey? But here, I should have us covered.” And the sparkling woman reaches into her mammoth of a purse. Other grandmothers have hard candies and tissues in their bags. Not mine. Stick a hand into her bag and you’re likely to come out with a map of North Dakota, or a taser, or a length of rope. She’s a survivor, and her accessories reflect it.
Today though, she pulls out a small corkscrew.
“Never know when you might come across some poor abandoned wine that needs to be liberated.”
Summer claps in delight and follows Mama Al to the counter where they uncork the bottle and pour a decent amount of red liquid into two glasses before sharing a cheers. I’m momentarily forgotten, but that’s fine by me. Having Summer be at ease with my family is just one more step in my quest to get her to fall for me.
Later, when we’re situated out on the concrete patio, Summer, Mama Al, and I drinking while Dad grills, conversation ebbs and flows.
“You in a hotel nearby?” my dad asks my grandmother.
“I’m staying,” she declares before downing a hearty swallow of wine.
“That’s what we want to know.” The roll of his eyes is almost audible. “Where are you staying?”
“In a hotel for the next few days. Then the house I’ve signed on to rent will be available for me to move in.”
Silence descends over the group. Summer was quiet anyway, letting the family discussions take place without her input. She has no idea how much of a bombshell statement my grandmother just made.
“You’re renting? Here?” Was that desperation in my voice? It’s only, my whole life Mama Al has always been transient. She’d come to New Orleans for a few days, maybe a week, then she’d be off on a new adventure.
The longest she stayed was a time I didn’t get to enjoy her company. Because I was behind bars. Mama Al stuck around then because her son was in the hospital recovering from a heart attack.
When my dad found out about my arrest, only minutes went by before a pain shot through his arm and he clutched at his chest. Again, I only know this second hand. Because I wasn’t there. Because I had landed myself in police custody.
“I thought I’d stay for a little while.”
“Oh you should!” Summer leans toward the older woman, an excited smile on her red lips. “You’ll be here for Mardi Gras.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Mama Al squeezes Summer’s knee, then raises an eyebrow at my dad. “Plus, I want to play matchmaker.”
I hide a smile as Dad glares at the corn he just put on the grill.
“Don’t.”
“Who said I’m matchmaking for you? I have plenty of friends in town.”
Dad snorts in disbelief, and I reach over to ease Summer into my lap. Mama Al better not get any ideas about me. I’m perfectly happy with how my love life is progressing.
The afternoon continues with my grandma sharing travel stories and giving my dad small verbal pokes. We opt to stay outside when the food is done, propping plates in our laps and setting our drinks on the ground. Summer takes over the conversation, relating hilarious library stories that have my grandma laughing and my dad cracking a smile or two.
Everything is easy. It all feels right.
If only my mind didn’t continue to trip back to that drawer in the kitchen.
Later, after I’m done loading the dishwasher, I corner my father in the family room.
“Dad. We need to talk about those bills.”
He settles into his recliner with a groan, not meeting my eyes.
“Dad—”
“She’s good,” he cuts me off. “Kind. Does she know what you did?”
I clench my teeth, not wanting to get distracted from the matter at hand. But when the topic is Summer, I have trouble concentrating on anything else.
“No. She doesn’t. The bills—”
“Are you going to tell her?”
“Yes,” I snap.
Of course, he picks up on what I don’t say. “When?”
For a good minute, I don’t answer. Instead, I stare out the front window where I can see my grandmother pulling knitted shawls from her trunk and draping them over my librarian’s shoulders.
Mine. Right now she’s mine.
I’ll do most anything to keep it that way.
“When she won’t leave.”
A long sigh drags my attention back to the family room. My father grimaces at the wall, a spot where over a decade ago, there hung a family portrait. Now the spot has a fish my dad caught and mounted.
“You’re like me.”
“So?”
“So.” He seems to chew on his words, then finally lets them free. “You’ll drive her away.”
He could’ve punched me in the gut, and I wouldn’t have felt so sick.
“If she loves me, she won’t leave.”
My father keeps staring at the fish, it’s open mouth gaping, gasping for breath. Forever caught in the struggle for its life.
“That’s not how love works.”
Chapter Thirty
SUMMER
I find Cole in the kitchen, his knuckles pressing into the counter, his eyes trained on a closed drawer. The intensity of his stance screams that something is wrong. This isn’t the first time this evening.
Approaching him like I would a wild tiger, if I had any kind of valid reason to walk toward a jungle cat, I keep my steps light and my expression calm.
“Something I can help with?”
Tense shoulders only grow harder. “No.”
No. I hate it when he tells me no.
Let me help you, I barely keep myself from begging.
“Okay,” I say instead. “Are you ready to head out? Got my jacket and my purse, but I can dump them in the closet if you want to hang around longer.”
“You have plans,” he reminds me.
I do. And they aren’t ones I’d feel comfortable canceling.
“I do. But I can also ride the bus if you need to stay here. It’s not a big deal.” Would me leaving help? Is that what he needs? The fact that I can’t figure it out frustrates me.
“I’m driving you.” He speaks low, as if to himself. Cole’s mind is somewhere else. Somewhere not great.
Another person might have backed out of the kitchen and waited by the front door to be collected. But his rigid form draws me toward him rather than pushing me away.
“Cole.” When my palm rests on his arm, the muscle twitches, and his frigid eyes flick to me. “What do you need? Right now.” He can’t tell me no if it isn’t a yes/no question. Can he?
The line of his mouth tightens, far from any kind of smile. I want to kiss him into happiness, but that’s not how feelings work.
Tell me how to help you. I try to force the thought into Cole’s head, afraid if I speak it out loud he’ll shut down. His gaze traces over me, coming to land on my purse. The thing is faux leather, almost the same cool blue of Cole’s eyes, and has tiny snowflakes dangling from each zipper. New Orleans barely ever gets snow even in the middle of winter, so I decided to carry it around with me.
“I need your bag.”
I slip it from my shoulder. “To wear? It does kind of go with your sweater.”
He doesn’t even give me a lip twitch. Instead, Cole accepts my purse, setting it in front of the microwave and unzipping the main compartment. As I try to remember if there’s anything embarrassing contained within, Cole pulls open the drawer he’s been glaring at. The space is filled with envelopes, and he doesn’t waste any time shoving them into my bag.
I don’t move. The sight is too strange. As he clears out the drawer, I try to puzzle out what exactly I’m seeing. When every last letter is tucked into my purse, I still haven’t figured anything out. Cole zips it shut, closes the drawer, and slides the bag onto my shoulder.
“Let’s go.” He cups my elbow, turning me toward the front door.
“We’re saying goodbye, right?”
Cole stumbles to a stop, staring at me with wide eyes. “What?”
“To your dad and your grandma. I don’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”
He shakes his head, but not in a denial, more like to clear out errant thoughts. “Yeah. Let’s say goodbye.”
We find them upstairs in a spare bedroom, pulling old suitcases out of a back closet.
“Mama Al stores some of her stuff here,” Cole murmurs to me as explanation, then raises his voice a touch. “We’re heading out.”
The peacock of a woman wraps me in a tight hug. “Loved meeting you, Summer. I’ll come by the library to get a card.”
“You better!” When I let her go, Mr. Allemand offers me a hand to shake. I take it, smiling wide, trying to ignore the burn of my purse pressing into my leg.
I hope Cole has a good explanation.
Once we’re in the car, a thick tension makes my skin feel sticky. Like dirty humidity.
“Which way?” he asks at a stop sign, voice casual, as if I wasn’t just used as a mule to smuggle something out of his father’s house.
“What’s in my bag?” I can’t simply continue with my night without addressing this.
“Don’t worry about it.”
My teeth clench, then I force my jaw to relax. “I have considered your request, and I reject it. The worrying is already happening. Can’t stop it now. Might as well tell me.”
“Summer.” He growls my name in some kind of warning. The chastisement might have carried more weight if his sleeves weren’t covered in reindeer wearing sparkly harnesses.
“I could easily find out. But I’d rather you tell me. Please.”
As Cole stares out the windshield, I only get half his face. But that’s plenty enough to see how irritated he is. In another circumstance, I might have tried jokes or flirting. But something about the way he holds himself tells me this is a heavier matter.
“Medical bills. My dad’s.”
My mind conjures up an image of the man I just met. Mr. Allemand is tall and lithe, like his son, but his blonde hair has gray throughout, and wrinkles dig deep into the corners of his eyes. Still, he looked to be in decent health. Not that these things always appear on the surface. I wonder what ailment has resulted in the heavy weight on my shoulder.
“Where is your mom’s place?” Cole’s driven us back into the city.
“Why did you take them?”
“Summer. Tell me where to go.”
“In a minute. Answer my question.”
“To pay them. Now, where do I go?”
To pay them? The amount of envelopes in my bag hints this won’t be a small task. From what I’ve seen of Cole’s life, he’s not sitting on some massive amount of cash.
“Do you know how much he owes?”
“I’ll figure it out. Right or left?”
“Left,” I answer, only half my mind on the direction we’re traveling. Cole has no idea how much his dad is in debt, but he’s just going to pay it?
“When you say you’re going to pay these bills, you mean…”
“I mean, I’ll write the places checks and put those checks in the mail. Then my dad won’t have to get harassed anymore.”
Damn, my heart clenches hard. Both at the nobleness of the statement, but also because I’m worried. Handling massive debt isn’t that easy.
“And if what he owes is more than you have? What will you do?”
Cole doesn’t hesitate. “I’ll pay it.”
“And go into debt yourself?”
“If anyone should be, it’s me.” There’s more than a hint of self-loathing in his voice. Clearly, Cole thinks his dad’s money problems are somehow his fault. This seems like a bigger thing, and I’m not sure I’m equipped to deal with whatever emotional turmoil he’s in.
But if there’s one thing I do know, it’s how to manage debt.
I learned the hard way.
“That doesn’t have to happen.” I chew my lip, then cross my fingers and beg the universe Cole will be reasonable. That he’ll let me help. “Let me take a look at the bills. I promise to keep everything confidential.”
“What? No,” he says as if the thought baffles him. “They aren’t yours to deal with.”
The polite thing to do would be to keep my nose out of his business. But I can’t. “Well they aren’t yours either.”
“They’re my dad’s.”
“And I bet your dad would like to dig himself out of this hole.” Wasn’t hard to tell that Mr. Allemand is a proud man. I’m betting that’s why Cole had me smuggle these documents out of the house rather than asking to take them.
“Leave it alone, Summer, and tell me how to get to your mom’s place.”
“Cole. Please. Just listen to me. I. Can. Help.”
“Not. Your. Problem.”
“I know that.” The words beg to be shouted at him, but I keep my voice composed. This is my agitated patron voice. With this voice, I’ve calmed many people who intimidated me more than Cole. It is a rare person who can remain stubborn in the face of my serene librarian persona. “But I also know how to help. And not in a vague, I’ll do some research into the matter and get back to you, way.”
We’ve hit a stoplight, but Cole won’t look at me. His knuckles are a vivid white as he fists the steering wheel at ten and two. I can imagine the second we arrive he’ll try to grab my bag from me, taking my only claim to this issue.
“Directions.”
“Pull in there.” I point to the strip mall parking lot, and Cole throws me a confused glance. “I refuse to tell you any more directions until you listen to me.”
He mutters a few curses but pulls off the road and parks. Just as I thought, he reaches for my bag, but I’ve already shoved it behind my back.
“Give them to me.”
“No. I’m the one who stole them. And now I’m going to help.”
“The only way to help is to pay the bills. Which I’m going to do.”
“Okay. Fine. You’re going to pay them. But there are different ways to approach debt.”
“Summer.” Cole has unclipped his seatbelt, and he tries to climb to my side of the car, long arms circling behind my back.
“I was almost homeless!” I shout, my librarian voice nowhere to be found as I’m desperate for him to understand.
Cole freezes, staring down at me as he looms. “What?”
Seeing I have his attention, I moderate my volume. “When I was a teenager. After my dad died. My mom and I ran into some hard times financially. We struggled, but we figured it out.” That time of my life was a stressful mess of constant moving to smaller and smaller apartments, and ignoring the phone when it rang because of the creditors on the other end of the line. “She doesn’t owe anything anymore, and I’m only dealing with my student loans. I have a clear financial plan with scheduled payments, and I know exactly when I’ll be debt-free.” So what if it’s a decade from now? I still have an end date.
Reaching up a hand, I cup his jaw. His lids close briefly as if he’s in pain, but I get the sense he wants my touch. That he needs someone to reassure him the papers in my bag aren’t going to implode his life.
“You shouldn’t have to deal with this.” His whisper is rough. Still, his words give me hope.
“I want to. Please, Cole. I promise I can make this easier for you. I’m not asking to pay the bills. Just help organize it all. Let me help.”
A moment passes, then another. Finally, a soul-weary sigh steels the tension from his body, and his forehead comes to rest on mine.
“Is this a yes?” Damn my mouth. I shouldn’t push my luck.
But Cole nods, and my joy fills the truck cab. My fingers tangle in his hair, pulling his mouth toward mine. He lets me kiss him for only a second, then moves away and returns to his side of the cab.
