Love Me for Me(11)

Standing at the corner of Windmill Point Road and Rappahannock Drive, she had arrived at the only stoplight in town. As a kid, it had been a cautionary, blinking, yellow light, but having moved along with the times, all three colors were now represented, and the light was red. Libby didn’t notice the red light, but she noticed the truck that was stopped there. It was a vintage yellow 1969 Bronco.

She only knew that because she’d been with Pete when he’d bought it. She remembered sliding across the tattered seat toward Pete who was sitting, poised in the driving position, his hands on the wheel, considering the purchase. “How do we look in it?” she’d asked playfully. His expression was frozen in her memory as if she’d seen it just yesterday. Pete turned to her with fondness in his eyes, a grin on his face, and said, “Well, I must say it looks a whole lot better now that you’re in it.” He and his brother had spent the rest of their high school years saving money to restore it.

As she surfaced from her memory, the window slid down and Pete called out, “Still here?”

Libby turned to face him, her eyes narrowing. With an empty lane between them, she glared in his direction. Of course I’m still here! she wanted to yell. I can’t go anywhere else! I’m stuck here against my will, which should make you happy, so leave me alone and let me stew in it! Instead, she said nothing.

The light turned green and, to her dismay, she saw him put on his turn signal and move closer to her. He kept going and rounded the curve, pulling the truck to a stop on Rappahannock Drive. A few cars passed, and she watched them go, not wanting to look in Pete’s direction.

“I thought you’d be gone by now,” he said, closing the door and stepping up onto the curb. She recognized two women from her childhood church gawking at them from the window of the market.

He took a step closer to her and slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans, bunching the shirttails of his oxford button up. Even when he wasn’t spruced up, he looked perfect. She had so many things she wanted to say to Pete Bennett that all the thoughts bumped into one another, and she couldn’t sift out a single one. She stood there in silence, the irritation of her lack of coherent thought nibbling away at her from the inside.

“What are you doing back here, Libby?” He said the words in anger, but she’d known him over half her life, well enough to see the softness behind his expression, and she could also see the hurt she’d caused.

She wasn’t about to tell him what had transpired during the last month of her twenties. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He didn’t need to know any more than she was willing to tell him. “I’m here to sell the cottage,” she said matter-of-factly.

The anger that had been evident on his face deepened, and the softness was now gone completely. “You're getting rid of it?” he asked, his green eyes shooting daggers at her. His face was flushed, his jaw set in a rigid line.

The cottage had belonged to Pete’s grandparents. But now that Anne was gone, and Hugh was living with Pete, she didn’t know why he cared one way or the other about that cottage. Especially since she’d heard from her mother that he had an amazing house he'd restored himself, right on the water and not far from her own childhood home.

“Yep.”

“Why? Isn’t it good enough?”

This wasn’t about the cottage. “Pete,” she took in a breath, trying to decide how to start. Her arms were crossed around her body, and anyone looking would think she was cold, but it was really an effort to keep herself from trembling. She felt as if she’d fall apart if she let go.

“You waltz back into town like you own the place, with your,” he swung his finger up and down in the air at her, “high and mighty, too-good-for-this attitude. You show up just to sell off the cottage, fluff out your feathers. Well, I don’t care about your wealth or all the airs you’re putting on. None of us care.”

Libby opened her mouth to retort, but the words weren’t there. She could feel the sting of tears, but she wasn’t about to let them show. Irritation burned in her stomach. She pressed her lips together to keep from screaming. What did he know?

The two ladies in the shop window were talking to each other, their knobby fingers pointing in the direction of Pete, and Libby felt like she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. She’d lost everything, and now Pete was making a show of her poor choices for everyone to see. Her cheeks were on fire, her hands trembling. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Oh, yeah. I forgot. We’re not smart enough in this insignificant town to understand anything.” He took a step back, his eyes still on her. Then, without another word, he walked around the front of his car, got in, and sped away.