Love Me for Me(90)

She’d watched as the other kids got on one at a time, each one sailing through the air and splashing into the water. She’d watched their laughter, the sun glistening off the beads of water at their shoulders, and the way it brought them all together. She’d never been taught how to live like that, but she wanted it. She’d grabbed Pete’s arm and asked him to help her get on. Then, all by herself, she pushed off the tree and felt the motion of it in her stomach. She remembered holding on to that rope, her eyes on Pete as he reassured her, nodding subtly, telling her with his eyes that she’d be okay. Without thinking it through any more, she’d jumped. It was exhilarating and fun and frightening all at the same time. When she’d climbed onto the sand, dripping wet and laughing just like her friends, her heart hammering, she knew that Pete had been right. She could do it. And she drew on the freedom of that one moment for the rest of the summer.

It occurred to her that choosing the unknown and staying in White Stone wasn’t much different. She worried for the things that may go wrong, but in the end, she welcomed the freedom of not having a goal to reach, not having her choices mapped out. In a way, she could just be.

“You don’t have to make me lunch, but thanks for offering,” she called back to her mother. Then she picked up her keys and threw her handbag onto her shoulder. “I’m heading into town. Do you need anything?”

“No,” her mother surfaced in the hallway. “Thanks, though.”

“I think I’ll grab a sandwich and read in the park if you need me.”

“Sounds lovely. Have fun,” Celia smiled.

Libby went into town and picked up her lunch. As she walked into the park, she saw an empty bench. That insignificant little bench wasn’t so insignificant anymore: it was a place to start, a place to just be. She decided to sit down on that particular bench to read her book. The sun was bright with not a cloud in the sky. Two birds were flying so high up above that they looked like the little black m’s she used to draw as a kid. She unwrapped her sandwich and opened her book.

As she sat there, she realized that she wasn’t reading. Her eyes were in the book, scanning the words, but the words weren’t going in. She was too busy thinking about Pete and wishing she could have said or done something more. Trying not to think about it, she forced herself to read the words one at a time, but they still weren’t making sense. She kept her eyes on the page anyway, the sun reflecting off the white paper, making spots in her vision.

Her issues with Pete couldn’t be fixed with an email or interview. They couldn’t be fixed with paint or new cabinetry. They just couldn’t be fixed. Period. She didn’t know what to do, how to proceed. She wanted to be around the people she loved, but she didn’t feel complete unless the most important person to her was with her. She couldn’t imagine being near Pete and not seeing that affectionate look in his eyes, feeling his hand in hers, having his arm around her in that protective way of his. How would she ever manage?

“Hey.”

She looked up, her pulse racing, and blinked to clear the spots in her eyes. Pete was standing over her, his sunglasses on, a bag from the sandwich shop in his hand. “Mom is looking after Pop today,” he said. “I had a little free time, and I was on my way to your mom’s when I saw you leaving the shop.” He held up his sandwich.

He sat down beside her and looked out at the grass that stretched to the tree line. Libby kept her book open in her lap to busy her hands so she wouldn’t show how nervous she had become. There was so much she wanted to say, but she knew she’d already said what she had to, so she stayed quiet. He’d come to find her. She’d rather hear what he had to say anyway.

They sat in silence for a while before he finally spoke. “I’ve been thinking since our talk, and I wanted to find you today so I could tell you what’s on my mind.” He looked right into her eyes. She watched intently for some small glimmer as to what he thought, but she had to wait for his words because his face wasn’t showing it. “Libby, you make me crazy,” he said, turning his body toward her. “You make me so mad I can’t see straight. You’re stubborn, you’re always in your head when you just need to be in the moment… But I’ve watched you with Pop. You’re thoughtful and kind with him. You flew all the way home for him. I know that you’ll be there for him,” he said. He tipped his head back for bit as if searching for something, but she knew he was just overloaded and tired, and she felt awful for putting him in this situation when he was already dealing with so much.