Left to Chance Page 16

  “It’s not that kind of contest. It’s a contest for photos of Ohio.”

  “What’s the prize?”

  “I don’t know.” Was there a prize? I wished he could understand that while I cared about every bride, CEO, and event in the moment, that those photos left me a bit hollow. The photos I’d taken in Chance in the past forty-eight hours had started to refill a well I hadn’t realized was near empty.

  “Annie told me you wanted the clothes from the cleaners you left at my place, so I took them over to her. You could’ve asked me to send them, you know.”

  “I didn’t want her to bother you. You can forget it, I don’t need them.” I could go shopping. Or I could wear any of my dresses to Miles and Violet’s wedding. The wedding Shay didn’t want to happen.

  “Annie has everything ready to go.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  “I take it you’re having a good time? I mean, if you need more clothes than you already packed.”

  “Yes, I am.” How I wished that I wanted to ramble about Shay and even about Beck. Or tell him about Josie and her kids, or the car. Or the gossip girls, Nettie’s on Lark, or the mall. I knew I should let him in, even just a little. I needed to remind myself we had a connection that went beyond work. Beyond work and sex. “It’s just hard to be here. I grew up here. I left kind of suddenly and—”

  “And you’ll be leaving again.”

  “I guess so.” I saw Cameron and Morgan across the street, walking out of the library. Suddenly I wanted to appear nonchalant and unencumbered.

  “Si, I’ve got to go.”

  “Annie’s waving at me, says she needs to talk to you. Hang on.”

  “I can’t. Not now. I have to take care of something.” I waved and Morgan lifted her hand in a half wave. She swatted Cameron and he turned. He spoke to Morgan. She continued up Main Street toward Poppy Lane and then he walked across the street to the park.

  “She says it’s important.”

  “I’m sure it is, but so is this.”

  * * *

  I lay back down, and again, held my camera to my face. I shouldn’t have allowed work to intrude on my week, or Simon to muddle my thoughts and my mood.

  A shadow fell over me, and then Cameron’s face appeared in my viewfinder.

  “Earth to Teddi Lerner!”

  I smiled but felt shaky and unsettled as I lowered the camera to my side and sat up.

  “Feeling more chipper today?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “No, not really. I want to apologize for yesterday.”

  “No apology necessary. What’s wrong?” Cameron sat and crossed his legs the way we had in elementary school.

  “Don’t you have to go home with Morgan?”

  “No, she can be home for a while on her own. What’s going on? Is it Beck?”

  “Actually, no. It has nothing to do with him.”

  “Want to tell me?”

  “Not right now.”

  “Did you get any good shots?” Cameron pointed to the camera.

  “No, I wanted to take some pictures here in the square—but don’t tell anyone, I’m uninspired this morning. Everything looks kind of, well, blah.”

  “Oh, that could be the new town motto. I don’t know why we didn’t think of it before. Welcome to Chance. Land of the free and home of the blah. Should bring in lots of tourists.”

  I laughed. “That’s not what I meant. I just meant that I think I’m trying hard to find just the right thing, at just the right angle, for just the right picture.”

  “The right picture for what?”

  I pulled the contest brochure out of my bag and handed it to Cameron. He studied it.

  “I have a diagnosis,” he said.

  “Oh, you do, do you?”

  “Photographer’s block. It’s like writer’s block. I know it well.”

  “Somehow with all those ideas flying at you at the cemetery, I doubt it.”

  “I haven’t written the book yet, have I? Not the easiest thing to admit, I must tell you. But it’s a fact. I have a lot of ideas and a little bit of follow-through.” He looked at his hands as if looking for something—a pen, an idea, a muzzle. “I mean I don’t have follow-through with writing my book. I have great follow-through with everything else.”

  “I’m sure you do.”

  “I do. I swear. I also have a great cure for lack of inspiration.”

  “Do tell.”

  “Come with me.”

  “No way, Mr. Davis. I know where you like to get your ideas.”

  He stood and reached out his hand toward me. “I promise. This has nothing to do with cemeteries.”

  * * *

  “Nice, isn’t it?” Cameron shifted his car into park at Jasper Pond. “It’s a really great place to think.”

  “Or make out.”

  “Ha! Well, if you say so…”

  “You don’t know what this is, do you?”

  “Don’t tell me. It’s an ancient burial ground, and a kiss from someone you knew when you were ten breaks the spell.”

  I chuckled. “Good try. It’s where kids park.”

  “Yeah, so…” Cameron shook his head and then his eyes widened and he blushed. “Oh, you mean park. Know it well, do you?”

  “I’ll never tell.”

  “I know Deanna runs on the path here; she never mentioned seeing anything.”

  “It’s a late-night-in-the-dark thing.”

  “It is, is it?”

  “Can we change the subject?” I never should have brought it up, but I seemed to say things around Cameron I shouldn’t. “Aren’t we here to find our creative inspiration?”

  “Ah yes, come with me.”

  We walked across the gravel lot toward Jasper Pond. A new purple playground stood where the picnic area had been, and new picnic tables flanked a dock for remote-control boats. The meadow where Celia and Miles were married had been replanted as a community garden. A sculpted walking path wound around the pond and through some of the trees, with stations for stretching and pull-ups and squats.

  “Want to keep walking? Or we could sit? We don’t have to talk.”

  “Whatever you want to do is fine.”

  “Teddi, I’m trying to help you find your creative center. Work with me here.”

  “Let’s walk.”

  Cameron slipped his hand into mine and led me to the shore of the pond like an excited child. His hair even flopped like a boy’s, and if I were his mother I’d lick my hand and try to glue it into place. His whimsy lightened my mood and I scampered to keep up.

  Stones lined the shore and I let go of his hand, then reached down and grabbed two. One perfectly flat and able to skip halfway across the pond, another smooth and round to tuck in my pocket as both a memento and a promise. I did this without looking at Cameron, not wanting to answer any questions he would ask.

  “I saw Beck.”

  “You saw him or you talked to him?”

  “I talked to him.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  “He told me about Shay.” I turned toward Cameron and looked him in the eye. “About what she did. How she behaved.”

  “You know it wasn’t my place to tell you, don’t you, Teddi?”

  “No, I’m not saying you should have told me. I guess I just wanted to thank you. You let me rant and ramble about Beck and Deanna and all the time you were probably thinking I was a lunatic who knew nothing. And you would have been right.”

  “I never thought that.”

  “You’re living with your sister and your niece, probably because of the mess Shay started. I don’t know why I feel like I should apologize for her, but I do.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “Maybe it is. Maybe if I’d been here, or been more present—oh, I hate that word—this wouldn’t have happened. None of it.”

  “You’re being a little hard on yourself, don’t you think? Or maybe overestimating the impact you could’ve had on her?”

&n
bsp; “That’s not all. But you can’t repeat this. Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “Shay has this crazy idea that I should marry Miles.”

  “She told you this?”

  “No, Beck did. And I have to figure out what to say to her.” My thoughts tumbled like socks in a dryer. If I were around more—if I were here—if I hadn’t stayed away—that never would have entered her mind. “I have to talk to her about it before Sunday … I think not having a mother, and Miles getting remarried, it’s too much for her. I’m not making excuses…”

  “But you are.”

  “I guess I am. Wouldn’t you? If it were Morgan?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I would. Anything to what Shay says about you and Miles?”

  “Me and Miles? Are you kidding? No, absolutely not! Miles was my best friend’s first love. He’s like a cousin to me. We’re not close anymore but I’ll always care about him. So, no. And eww.”

  Cameron shook his head and smiled. “Very mature, Teddi.”

  “You said I was the same as when I was ten. Guess you were right.”

  Cameron and I sat on the stony ground, which made it easy for me to scoop a scant handful of pebbles and let them trickle through my fingers.

  “Hey, watch this.” Cameron positioned himself into a batter’s stance, drew back his arm, and flung a stone into the water, but away from the paddle and paper boat platoons. The stone skipped twice.

  “Not bad,” I said.

  “I can teach you how to do it.”

  I stood and then removed three stones from my pocket, and replaced two. I blew on the remaining stone and rolled it in my hands as if I were holding lucky dice. I walked back about three paces and bounded forward with a skip and flicked the stone. Six skips.

  “You’re a stone-skipping savant!”

  “That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me. Especially in the past two days. Hell, in the past two months.”

  I laughed. Then Cameron laughed. Then I laughed again. The laughing was contagious and cathartic. We ended up holding our sides, wheezing, and gasping for breath. I lost my footing for a second and stumbled. He caught me before I made a fool of myself by landing on the ground, but not before he wrapped me in a momentary bear hug, then set me upright.

  “I needed that,” I said. “The laugh. I really needed that laugh.”

  “Should we get away from the pond before someone reports us to Park Patrol for reckless endangerment of rocks and photographers?”

  We sat on the swings but didn’t swing. I held the steel chains and my heart still pounded from the laughter—a release that felt more like a cleanse. I didn’t remember the last time I’d laughed so hard my cheeks hurt.

  I rose from the swing and lifted my camera to my face, then swung around and snapped a picture of the pond, rimmed by the clouds, touched in the corners by passersby on the trail. Then I took a picture of Cameron’s hand wrapped around the chain of the swing. The tips of my Keds surrounded by sand. An empty picnic bench. Stalks of sunshine landing in the parking lot, the gravel shimmering like diamonds. I walked to the path and around the pond alone. I stepped on the heel of my right shoe and pulled out my foot. Then I repeated with the left. The grass and the stones were cool, the water and the sun were warm. I skipped another stone into the pond. I’d visited many beautiful places but none of them rippled to my heart like this one.

  I walked back to Cameron. “Thank you,” I said. “I love it here. I’d forgotten how much.”

  “I’m glad. Maybe we could come back.”

  “Do we have to leave?”

  Chapter 16

  PERK WAS ALMOST EMPTY when I arrived in the middle of what I assumed was the midday slump.

  “Two large peach iced teas.”

  I carried the cups to a table in the corner. Shay would arrive soon, just in time for a short visit before dinner. That’s when I’d mention Simon. I’d never have to tell her I wasn’t interested in Miles, because I’d tell her I was already involved. A couple. Spoken for. Committed.

  Simon and I had never used any of those words.

  I picked up the same Chance Gazette I’d read once before and feigned nonchalance, as if my leg wasn’t bouncing sixty miles an hour under the table. I stomped it as the off switch. I skimmed “Chancelist” on the back page, my small town’s version of Craigslist, offering babysitting, lawn mowing, hauling, and tutoring.

  Cameron would be a great history tutor, pencil tucked behind his ear, notebook in hand. He had the patience of a saint, if saints were inclined to wear khaki shorts and T-shirts. He’d sat on that swing for nearly an hour. He hadn’t questioned me or rushed me.

  He left me alone, which left me feeling connected.

  I shook my head to scramble the thought and texted Annie.

  Me: Did you ship my clothes?

  Annie: It’s under control.

  Me: Thanks.

  My phone buzzed with a new text.

  Shay: I’m going to hang out with Rebecca and Chloe. CYA l8r?

  Me: Did you ask your dad?

  Chloe’s mother had been scheduled to drop Shay off at home.

  Shay: Vi drove me to Rebecca’s house. She has a pool. And a dog.

  Me: Ok! Have fun!

  I wanted to see Shay. I wanted to show her my pictures from Jasper Pond and tell her I was entering the contest. I didn’t want to tell her about Simon, but I would. This, though—a change of plans to be with her friends—this is what should have been happening. A girl on the cusp of adolescence should have wanted to hang out with her friends, not sip iced tea with her “aunt.” I was leaving in a few days, but this was what I wanted for Shay—the age-appropriate bond of friendship. Maybe she’d burst into seventh grade with two BFFs and without the need to bully anyone. Maybe realizing she could make friends would help her ease into a new family dynamic.

  I tapped my fingers on the table and glanced out the window toward Chance Square and its midday lull void of miniature baseball players.

  If I’d been at a Hester property, or back in San Francisco, I’d revel in my newfound time alone. I’d relax on a balcony or walk on a beach. I’d disguise myself as a guest and sit at the pool wearing a large floppy hat and dark sunglasses.

  But now I didn’t want to be alone. I didn’t want to go back to my room, or walk around Chance on my own. I didn’t want to call Annie and talk about work, and I couldn’t call Josie because she was at work. I wanted to talk with someone, not to someone. About anything. I had always been able to call Celia and just say, “What are you doing?” Her answer might have been anything from formulating a plan for world peace to folding the laundry, but it didn’t matter. We always parlayed into a conversation about anything, nothing, and everything at the same time.

  I folded the thin newspaper and placed it on the table for the next customer. The door opened and Lorraine walked in, but without Cousin Maggie. She waved and walked to the counter. Steaming mug in hand, she sat at a table on the other side of the coffee shop. Lorraine wasn’t reading or talking on her phone or even gazing out the window or at the shelves full of mugs. I envied the peacefulness I presumed.

  I approached Lorraine’s table, one hand in my pocket, one hand holding Shay’s abandoned cup. Lorraine smiled wide.

  “Hi, Teddi. I hoped I’d see you again.”

  “Me too.”

  “Do you have time to sit?”

  I nodded as I sat on the chair across from Lorraine. “How are you?”

  “No complaints.”

  “Glad to hear it.” I wished I could say the same thing. “Where’s Maggie today?”

  “Today’s my day off. Maggie usually spends the day with her library friends.”

  “She’s okay to do that?”

  “Oh yes. I’m really just a companion for her. No one likes to be alone all the time.” I sipped the iced tea through the straw. I was going to float back to Nettie’s if I didn’t stop drinking tea soon. “Are you waiting for someone?”

&nbs
p; “Not anymore. Shay was going to meet me here but she’s with her friends.”

  “As it should be, at her age.” Lorraine stirred a honey stick into her tea.

  “I guess. I was just looking forward to the company—not that you’re not very nice company, that’s not what I meant.”

  We laughed.

  “I didn’t think that’s what you meant, no worries. You’re welcome to sit with me as long as you like.”

  “I don’t want to intrude.”

  “Oh, sometimes I wish people would intrude a little more. When I was growing up on St. Thomas, my family all lived close by and we just popped in on each other. The problem wasn’t having company, it was having time alone. And now everyone is too concerned with respecting personal space, so no one takes a chance. I’m glad you did.”

  “Sometimes my personal space is just too spacious.”

  Lorraine laughed and covered her mouth with her hand, as if she’d been taught that was ladylike. “That’s why I like spending my days with Maggie. She’s a tough nut, but she’s mine.”

  “Do you live alone?”

  “I do. I’m divorced and my daughters are grown. One lives in Philadelphia and the other lives in New York. I was just here, in Chance, working part time, and I realized I was alone too many hours every day. The Internet is not a sufficient replacement for a person.”

  “No. And just being around other people isn’t the same thing as being with other people.”

  “That’s why I agreed to spend time with Maggie. I like talking with her.”

  “I never realized how much I relied on having someone to talk to all the time until I didn’t.”

  “Celia.”

  “Yes.”

  “I didn’t know her but I’ve heard that she was lovely.”

  “She was.” I sipped as much tea as I could before I swallowed. “Losing her derailed me.”

  “Of course it did.”

  “And at the same time, it set me on the path I’m on today.”

  “That’s a difficult thing to come to terms with.”

  “It is.”

  “You can talk to her, you know, even though she’s gone.”

  I cocked my head, and inched my way back as I waited for Lorraine to convince me she was a psychic/clairvoyant/medium/good witch and that for the tidy sum of a zillion euros she could channel Celia right through the coffee beans.