Finding Liberty Page 12

  Geo grins. “Paul, Luke, and I’m forcing Rob on him. He’s also asked some guy I apparently met at Luke’s wedding and don’t remember very well. Bradley somebody. He had a few other people he thought about asking, but when I asked him why he wanted them, he said they kept things ‘interesting.’ That didn’t seem like a compelling reason, and he said they won’t be offended not to be included. James Fulton, and Adam something or another.”

  I nod. “I’m surprised he picked Bradley, but I suppose it’s nicer for photos if we have an even number.” I just hope I can sit next to Rob. If this procedure goes well, maybe I can stand next to Rob. My hopes soar momentarily, until I recall the risks. I really don’t want to be sitting next to Rob in a diaper. I close my eyes.

  “Paisley really is a hoot.” Geo clearly didn’t notice my internal panic. “I think you two will get along really well. Speaking of, I thought we might host a game night here Friday, if you’ll still be in town. You could meet Paisley.”

  “How did their date go Saturday?” I ask compulsively. Half of me doesn’t even want to know.

  Geo giggles. “It was a complete disaster, which was only alright because apparently it was some kind of cover the two of them concocted to get me and Trig to drop the whole thing. They were supposed to fake the date, and then fake some big fight so we’d back off. Rob was too tired and crabby to pull it off.”

  “He didn’t enjoy the hike?”

  Geo lifts one eyebrow. “I think he liked it as much as he ever would have. Rob rarely goes hiking. He’s more of a jog along the beach kind of guy.”

  He is? “He said he hiked Kennesaw—“

  “Paisley’s fault too. She’s always badgering us to go enjoy nature, to soak up the grandeur with her.”

  Which means he really wasn’t upset about my inability to hike when we spoke. I try to think back on our conversation. If he didn’t have an epiphany about my inability to do things he loves, then the progression went something like this. He and I didn’t see eye to eye on my surgery, and he was upset about it. Then he asked me out and I was busy, and he left. I stifle a groan.

  “What do you think about that?” Geo asks.

  I realize I wasn’t listening to her while I processed my own stuff. Crap.

  “It would be a good excuse to see Rob…” she continues.

  “Uh, what would?”

  Geo tilts her head. “The game night. Will you still be here Friday? I can set one up. It’s our turn to host anyway.”

  My cheeks heat up. “Rob’s coming by later today, actually.”

  “Wait, he told you about that?” Geo asks.

  I frown. “Told me about what?”

  “He’s dropping off my mom’s birthday present in a little bit.”

  He didn’t mention he was coming for Geo on our text chain last night. Another twinge of jealousy strikes, this one stronger. Obviously Rob texts Geo, but why didn’t he mention to me that he was coming over to see her? Do we really have a date at all, or is he just coming by for Geo? I wish I could step into his brain for just one moment and feel what he feels. Why hasn’t technology made that an option? It would really clear up a lot of dating confusion.

  “Uh, well, he told me he’d come over today to visit since I’m here. I didn’t realize he was already coming.” I wish I could sink into the floor. I look as pathetic as I feel.

  Geo puts her hand over mine. “Brekka, Rob texted me late last night to tell me he’d drop off Mom’s desk. I didn’t have plans today so I figured I’d come over early to wait here until he brought it, that’s all. He didn’t even know whether I’d be here since I’m keeping my place until Trig and I are married. That means I’m the afterthought here, not you. Two birds, one stone and all that.”

  The sun shines again. And I can breathe, which seems like a generally good thing. “Why does your mom need a new desk?”

  “She’s allowed a bed, a dresser, a nightstand and a desk in her room,” Geo says. “I asked Rob to make her one because she’s using the really depressing one they provided. The top of it isn’t even real wood. It’s that painted on laminate stuff.”

  “Rob mentioned that he enjoys making furniture.”

  Geo beams at me. “He almost never talks about it. The fact that he’s telling you about his hobby at all is a good sign.”

  “Is he decent at it? What do you think about his work?” I feel a little guilty asking, but I’d love to prepare if I’m going to need to fake my praise.

  “Honestly? He’s never really shown it to me. I know it’s his favorite thing to do, and he spends all his free time in his shop. The enormous size of that shop’s the only reason he bought that old dump of a house to begin with, but he’s not very forthcoming. Confession time. I actually asked him to make Mom a desk so I could see whether he’s decent! I figure anything he makes will be an improvement over the monstrosity she’s got now, even if it’s sloppy or wobbly.”

  “I guess we’ll find out together,” I say.

  “Just… don’t be too critical,” Geo says. “Not that I think you would.”

  “You’re worried it’s not going to be very good?”

  Geo shrugs. “He did it for a few months during his recovery in Miami in between surgeries. He hasn’t had much formal training, and Rob’s the kind of guy who loves to try all sorts of different things. I don’t think of him as a perfectionist, and don’t you think furniture sort of calls for attention to detail?”

  I think about the meticulous care he took with the cabinets at Clive’s house. Every detail seemed perfect on that.

  “Maybe I just feel guilty,” Geo says.

  “Why?”

  “A few years ago, a startup furniture builder actually offered him a job. They saw an end table he made in therapy. Rob really wanted to take the position, but I didn’t want to stay in Miami anymore. Mom and Dad needed me, and we didn’t have any real connection to Miami other than each other. I should have stayed, or convinced him to do it without me, but I didn’t. When I decided to move home to help my dad with my mom, he came too. Once he moved back to the area, he pretty much had no chance. He was doomed to work for his family.”

  “He doesn’t enjoy it much.”

  “It’s sucking the life out of him. His dad made him spend a few weeks on the floor in each dealership trying to sell cars. Two months of that and he never sold a car. He’s not much of a salesman.”

  “Which is probably part of why he’s scared to try and sell his furniture,” I say.

  “Wow, I’d never thought of that, but maybe.”

  “He seems good at running things, though,” I say.

  “He doesn’t hate the management of the dealerships nearly as badly as sales, but he struggles with aspects of that, too. Part of him wants to find a job for every unemployable person he knows, while another part of him desperately wants to succeed. Those two components of his personality battle with one another. He needs to make his family proud and earn them a good income, but he’s also desperate to help all the Sally Sob Stories he meets.”

  “I met Clive. It’s clear that he’s a really good person.”

  “He’s one of Rob’s best friends, so make sure you never imply Rob’s doing a favor by being his pal.”

  “I never meant anything like that,” I say. “Just that most friends don’t spend their weekends building kitchens for each other.”

  “Huh?”

  Rob didn’t tell her? “He’s been putting in cabinets for Clive at his new house, at a lower height that Clive can reach himself from his wheelchair.”

  “Huh. That sounds like him, so I’m not surprised.” Geo leans a little closer. “How’d they look?”

  I smile. “Beautiful. They fit the space, but were definitely nicer than everything else inside.”

  “Glue streaks and corners that didn’t line up?” Geo asks.

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “That’s promising.”

  The doorbell rings and my heart decides I’m sprinting a race. I dr
ag in a deep breath and brush crumbs from my pants. I swivel Gladys around and wheel toward the door.

  “Oh, Geo, I didn’t realize you’d be here.” Rob’s voice reminds me of fresh bread slathered in melting butter, a puppy licking my face, and sliding underneath clean, crisp sheets. I could listen to him all day.

  “That’s funny. I still live at my apartment for now, but my name’s on this deed. It is my house, and yet you didn’t expect me to be home.” She taps her lip.

  Rob brushes his hand over the stubble on his jaw. “I figured you’d be at work, but Brekka would let me in to the house to drop off the desk.”

  Geo’s eyebrows wiggle up and down. “We pieced together your sneaky plan, Mr. Sly.”

  “Are you ready for it?” he asks.

  She nods. “Can you carry it yourself or do you need a hand?”

  He lifts one eyebrow. “You said a small writing desk, right?”

  “Right.”

  “I can manage it myself.”

  He must be able to, or he wouldn’t have been planning to bring it without Geo around. Clearly I’m useless.

  Rob ducks out, and a few moments later something taps on the door. Geo swings it open, and Rob carefully angles two wooden legs through the door. He pivots and then walks forward and then pivots again, and he’s through. He sets the desk down carefully in the entry hall. I wheel over to get a closer look.

  “Morning, Rob,” I say a little nervously.

  He grins at me. “Brekka, you look as lovely as ever.”

  Geo’s running her hand across the top of the desk, and when I look up at her face, I notice a tear running down her cheek. I wheel a little closer.

  The dark wood grain is stunning, and the area where the simple legs join the top of the desk is seamless, but the edge of the desktop somehow manages to be both smooth and raw at the same time.

  Geo’s fingers gently touch something on the left corner. I notice something on the right corner, and words span between. The numbers connected with hyphens on the far right should look out of place and yet they don’t. They seem to frame the workspace of the desk. It’s a date, I realize. The words read: The Heart Remembers.

  Geo’s mom suffers from Alzheimer’s and can’t always recall much of anything that matters.

  “What are the dates?” I whisper to Rob.

  Geo wipes the tears from her face. “It’s my parents’ anniversary and my birthday,” she says softly. “Days we always celebrated together. Days I still go see Mom, no matter what.” She throws her arms around Rob then and squeezes him tightly.

  My faith wasn’t misplaced. His work is beautiful, and meaningful and unique. The desk is rustic and classic at once, and the words look like they were somehow burned and carved, the finish accentuating the message, not detracting from it.

  “I should never have made you leave Miami,” Geo says. “I’m really sorry.”

  Rob shrugs. “It was the right call. This is fun, and I’m glad you like it, but you were right back then. My life is here, with you and with my family.”

  His life is here, and I live in Colorado. I try not to read anything into his words since he wasn’t even talking to me, but it’s hard.

  He turns toward me and beams. “You ready to go, Brekka?”

  “Wait.” My heart beats a staccato rhythm in my chest. I wasn’t wrong. We do have a date, and he’s taking me out somewhere. He has plans. “Where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise,” he says.

  I shake my head. “I don’t like surprises. I’m a planner.”

  He shrugs. “Surprises are good for the soul. Take it or leave it.”

  As if there was any chance I’d leave it now, looking into the eyes of my very own Adonis. I exhale in exasperation. “Fine. I’ll just head to the restroom and grab my bag.”

  “When you put it that way, my surprise sounds unbearably romantic,” Rob says.

  Geo laughs.

  And then we’re on our way.

  12

  Rob

  “That is not your truck,” Brekka says when I open the door and she sees my extended cab Ram 1500.

  “Actually,” I explain, “I don’t drive that to work, but it is mine. And since I’ll be on a date, I thought you might want air conditioning.”

  She lifts her eyebrows. “You have an old Chevy and a brand new Dodge Ram? Does your dad know?”

  I can’t help smiling. “He isn’t too enthusiastic, but honestly, the Honda Ridgeline isn’t really a truck. It’s a modified SUV they’re trying to market as a truck to the guys who want to look manly while driving into an office or commuting.”

  Brekka nods. “But you need yours to do actual manly things, like hauling wood and desks.”

  “Exactly.” Wait. She might be making fun of me. I study her for a second, but I can’t tell.

  “That desk is amazing, by the way. Your parents are wrong. You’re the real deal, the painter who makes cash.”

  I swallow hard. “It’s nice of you to say that.”

  “People call me tough, they call me bright, they call me shrewd. No one ever says, ‘wow Brekka, you’re so nice.’ Because I’m not. I’m the kind of person who can’t bring herself to compliment someone’s ugly baby. I end up saying, ‘Hey! You had a baby!’ and then I hope they don’t notice it’s not a compliment.”

  She’s nicer than she thinks, but I don’t argue with her. “Well, then your compliment means even more. I hope Geo’s mother likes it.”

  “I can tell you that Geo loves it, at least.”

  I duck my head a little, embarrassed at her plainly spoken praise. Her comment scratches an itch I didn’t realize I was suffering from. It’s nice to have someone independently confirm that my furniture’s high caliber. My parents act like they’re displaying a preschool finger painting, talking loud and smiling too big whenever the topic of the coffee table I made them comes up.

  When I open the truck door for her, she looks up at the seat, her eyes taking in the straw sunhat resting on it. “We’re going outside?”

  I shrug. “It’s a surprise. What did that mean to you growing up? ‘I’ll tell you in three minutes’?” I toss the hat up on the dash so the seat is clear and tap her gently on the nose. “You’ll find out soon enough. Be patient.”

  “Patience isn’t one of my virtues.”

  “I’m learning that.” I point at her wheelchair. “I know you’re completely capable of doing this alone, but my truck sits pretty high. Any chance I can assist you with Gladys?”

  Brekka nods, but she pops the brakes on and swings herself from her chair up onto the truck seat smoothly. “You’ve seen me do it. You remove the seat cushion—“

  “Let’s see how I do without coaching,” I say.

  I’ve done it for Clive whenever we take my truck. The chairs aren’t identical, but they share a lot of things in common, and I saw where the brakes were located already. I pop the seat cushion up and slide it behind the seat, leaning dangerously close to Brekka as I do. My nostrils fill with the smell of lilacs and I inhale deeply. I force myself to focus on Gladys. I need to impress Brekka with my competency here. Surely I can do what she does alone every day, right?

  I’m supposed to pop the wheels off next, but I can’t find the release. I shift Gladys right and then lift her up without luck.

  Brekka’s smirking at me.

  “It’s here.” She points at the very center of the wheel. Apparently the decorative flame symbol is the button I press to release the wheel. Clever.

  I slide the wheels into the back seat one at a time, and then I do find the release to collapse the frame. Once it’s stowed on the back seat, I close the doors and circle to my side.

  “I could have done that myself about twice as fast,” Brekka says when I climb in.

  “I’m a guy. We like to feel like we’re helping, even when we’re slowing things down. It’s a universal principle you’d do well to learn since you’ll be spending time with me.”

  She shrugs. “I’m a
woman and I never like to feel like I’m slowing things down.”

  “In this case, I think I’m undeniably the one to blame for the delay.” I slide into the middle seat and don’t stop until my arm is touching her shoulder. She’s so much smaller than me. “But sometimes it’s nice to slow things down a bit.”

  Brekka turns toward me. She’s biting her bottom lip, and I can’t keep my eyes off of her mouth. I dip toward her, my heart hammering, my pulse pounding in my ears so loudly I worry she can hear it. Movement out of the corner of my eye alerts me to Geo’s hovering presence.

  She’s waving at us with a knowing look on her face. “Have fun, you two.”

  I slide back into the driver’s seat like a child caught with my hand in the candy dish. “You ready to go?”

  “As ready as I can be without knowing where we’re going or what we’re doing,” she grumbles.

  She’s apparently not nearly as discomfited as I am by Geo’s appearance. I slam the truck into reverse and peel out of the driveway. I head for I-16. We’ve got a long four hours in front of us, but I’m looking forward to all the time to talk.

  “Today’s road trip game is called interrogation,” I say. “We alternate questions, and you have to answer whatever I ask. If you absolutely refuse, that gives me a pass, too.”

  Brekka’s eyes widen. “Uh, okay.” She picks at her pants.

  I pause for a moment, because nervous Brekka is adorable. When she starts looking around at the roads, I start. Can’t have her figuring out our destination. “What’s the most fun you’ve ever had with your mom?”

  She frowns.

  “Hey, you shouldn’t be upset. You’re thinking about something fun. And don’t tell me there’s nothing.”

  She pokes my ribs, which I did not expect.

  “What was that for?”

  “Stop staring at me and watch the road.”

  “Sorry.” Inattentive driving probably scares her. Understandably.

  “I’m not nervous because of my accident,” she says as though she can read my mind. “I don’t feel like things could get a lot worse for me, but I’d hate it if you were injured too.” She pulls on her seat belt strap. “Both of us are buckled this time at least.”