The Last One(31)

He finally looked at me, and the angry passion nearly made me shrink back. “Who the hell wouldn’t be attracted to you? You’re beautiful, you must know that. And you give off this vibe ... I don’t know what you’d call it, but it’s there. Doesn’t matter, though. Just because you feel something doesn’t mean you have to act on it. And trust me, I’m not.”

He opened the door, got out of the truck and slammed it behind him. I watched him stalk into the house. He didn’t look back to see if I were following him inside.

I sat for a long time in the dark cab, alone.





I WAS USED TO living with women. My grandmother had lived with us until her death, so between her, my mom and Ali, Dad and I had been outnumbered. And even after she wasn’t around, it always felt like the females were predominant in our home. I was okay with that; they treated me well, fed me and kept me from making stupid mistakes most of the time.

After Grandma and then my parents were gone, it was just Ali and me. She was young, but she’d picked up where Mom had left off, taking on the cooking and most of the housework. Her marriage to Craig was a little bit of a surprise, and it left me with a house that felt empty. I learned to get by on my own. When Ali and Bridget moved home, my sister’d picked up her role in my life as if she’d never left, and there was no doubt her little girl had me wrapped around her finger. I was used to being in the minority. I could deal with it.

Or so I’d thought.

In the two weeks she’d been living in our house, somehow Meghan had shifted the balance so that sometimes I felt like I was an interloper in my own home. I thought I knew what it must be like in a college sorority, thanks to the giggling, the private jokes and the chick flicks on TV in the evenings. My sister had morphed from the mature, responsible woman I’d known for the past seven years to a teasing, winking teeny-bopper.

And Bridget wasn’t any better. She was thriving with the extra attention and was quick to tell me each night how much everyone at school loved the new art teacher. She brought home different projects each day, and even I had to admit that it was cool to see the improvements in her work when she pointed them out to me. But the breaking point came one late afternoon when I came in from the fields to find the three of them in the living room, with the carpet rolled up, dancing to some crazy music from Meghan’s iPod blaster.

Seeing them jumping and gyrating around was the final straw. I needed to escape all the estrogen that was flowing through my house before it consumed me and I found myself doing the cha-cha slide or whatever the hell they called it. So as we finished dinner, I announced that I was going into town to run some errands.

“Tonight?” Ali frowned at me. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow? I can pick up what you need. I’m helping Meghan at the school for a few hours in the afternoon.”

“No, it really can’t.” I spoke more adamantly than I’d intended, and they all three looked at me in surprise. “I mean, I need this part for the tractor first thing in the morning. I’ve got to go round to Boomer’s and then to the hardware store and talk to Mitch. And I want to see if Mr. Harper’s around, so I can ask him about the bees.”

“Okay.” Ali shrugged. “I was just trying to save you a trip.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’m going to head out now. See y’all later.” I practically ran through the door, and I was pretty sure I heard giggling behind me as I got into the truck. The sound went right up my spine and bounced around in my head. God, did I need this break.

I stopped at the hardware store first and picked up a few things I knew I was going to need in the coming weeks. None of it was pressing, but Ali would grill me if I came home empty-handed. I spent a solid half-hour shooting the breeze with Larry, the store’s owner. I worked for him part-time in the winters to make ends meet when the stand was closed, and he was a decent guy. It was a relief to talk baseball, whatever bugs were trying to eat my cucumber plants and even a little town politics. He didn’t once mention art, pop culture or nail polish, and for that I was grateful.

I swung by Boomer’s after that, catching him just before he closed up.

“Hey, boy. Whatcha need?” He leaned back against his paper-strewn desk, keys in his hand.

“Hey, Boomer. Do me a favor and take some part you have laying around that you don’t need and toss it in a paper bag for me.”

The older man folded his arms across his broad chest and cocked his head. “Say what? Little early for drinking, isn’t it, Sam?”

I shook my head. “Haven’t had a drop. But I told Ali I was coming out tonight to pick up a part I needed first thing tomorrow morning, and if I come home without a bag from you, she’ll know.”