Every Kiss(54)
She’s not kidding; she’s practically bursting with it. But then again, something tells me that she’s always this energetic and plain-spoken. She’s a small woman—about my size—but she’s as big as life. The way she carries herself, her smile, her demeanor. It all plays a part in the impact she has on everyone around her. She’s incredibly kind, but I can tell she’s a very no-nonsense kind of person, too. She’s a force to be reckoned with.
“Is there something I can do to help you, Mrs. Baxter?”
Shane snickers. “You just said a four-letter word—help. Guests aren’t allowed to use that word in this house.”
“Honey, you can call me Eve.” She smacks Shane on the back of the head. “Don’t listen to Shane. He just knows how neurotic I can be. As a matter of fact, you can help me. We can get to know each other while we chop the fruit for the salad. Shane and Makenna, you can be dears and set the table in the dining room for me.”
Great. Now, I’ve opened myself up to be in the kitchen with their mom. Alone. “Sure.”
After I wash my hands, she places a cutting board and knife at the end of the island and sets a bowl of fruit between us. “Okay, just chop it into bite-sized pieces and toss it into that glass bowl. Simple enough?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Although, I’ve never really chopped fruit before. How hard could it possibly be? I’ll just watch her and do whatever she does.
Eve plucks an apple from the bowl and gracefully slips the knife just underneath the skin, shearing it away and leaving only the juicy, white flesh behind. Umm, I think I’ll start with a banana. “So, Callie, Wes has told me a little about you. You know, when I first started college, I was actually an early childhood education major, too. It wasn’t until my second year that I took that great big U-turn into interior design.”
“Really? I’ve always wanted to teach. I can’t see myself doing anything different.”
“Well, I don’t know you very well, but if you can put up with my Wesley for very long, I know you definitely have the patience for it. He’d try the patience of Mother Teresa.”
I feel the corners of my mouth curl up in a soft grin. I think she and I will get along just fine. “No truer words have ever been spoken.”
She tosses two large handfuls of perfectly cubed apples into the bowl, and I’m just now finished with the first banana. “He’s a tough nut to crack sometimes, but if you’re persistent, he’ll split wide open.”
Why do I get the feeling she wanted to get me alone to give me relationship advice? This must be some sort of “how to date my son and live to tell about it” seminar. “Maybe you’re right. But he also has more than one shell. You might crack through one, but there are plenty more layers behind it.”
“Callie,” she begins, dropping her knife in the bowl and wiping her hands on a towel, “If you’ve already figured that out, it means that you’ve seen those layers. So many people don’t. Look, I’ve heard you’re a straight-shooter, and so am I. Let me level with you, okay? I know my son enough to know that he really likes you. He hasn’t talked to me about a girl since high school, and he actually told me about you a few days ago.”
This conversation just went from light to heavy without me even realizing it. “We’re just friends. It’s nothing serious.”
“Maybe not now, but it has some definite potential. He thinks he’s in control of his life and knows everything that he wants. I know all about his ‘no relationship’ rule, and I know why he feels that way. I’m sure you’ve already figured out that, at some point, he’s going to run. If you really want to be his friend, don’t let him. If one person would chase him, if they’d show him that quitting isn’t an option, then maybe he could break this cycle. Even if you aren’t interested in a romantic relationship with Wes, just showing him that you care enough to fight to keep him in your life . . . it would be a major breakthrough for him.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I scrape my pile of banana into the bowl and contemplate what she said as I start slicing another one. I can’t help feeling that this conversation is one of desperation. She wants her son to be happy. She wants him to break free of the chains holding him captive in his own dark soul. I wonder if she has this conversation with every girl he brings over, just begging anyone to help her save him.
Eve sinks her knife into an orange, pausing midway through to look up at me. “I know you went home with him last night. And I’m not telling you this to make you ashamed. I know about it because he told me you did. He also confessed to leaving you there this morning. Never, ever would Wesley feel the need to talk to me about something like that. He wanted my advice. Whether he takes it or not will be a different story. But when I found out you were coming here this morning, I knew I had to get you alone to talk. Regardless of what he says, regardless of how he acts, Callie, you’ve made a deep impression on him.”