Seven years later, the place was still in great condition. The brick siding had weathered well, and the trim looked as freshly painted as the first time B.J. had seen it finished. The dried wilting weeds in the flowerbed, however, about broke her heart. She stared at them as Grady unlocked the front door.
There was a swing at the far end of the porch, and she had a sudden vision of him, at sunset, 187
sitting there, watching the sky turn all shades of the rainbow. He was the quiet type who would do a thing like that. He’d feel content, living out here by himself with nothing but a house full of ghosts and memories to keep him company.
Tension gnawing at her stomach, B.J. glanced once more at the decaying flowerbed. When she saw a green flowering plant in the depths of those brown weeds, despite the fact it was being choked out, she caught her breath, not sure whether it was a good omen or bad. She could either take it as a sign for new growth and hope, or as a haunting reminder that there would always be a part of Amy alive here, no matter how dead she was.
B.J. shivered. She was about to step over the threshold into Amy’s life with Amy’s husband. It felt almost wrong...forbidden.
She glanced toward Grady to see how all this affected him, but he’d already opened the door and disappeared inside. “Remind me to get you a key made,” he called over his shoulder.
Wondering briefly if he’d carried Amy through the doorway of their first home after they married, she shook her head and forced the thought away.
“Okay.”
She didn’t want Grady picking her up. She
definitely didn’t want him treating her the same way he’d treated Amy. She was nowhere near that
important to him, so she’d better just forget any ideas otherwise.
****
After pointing out the kitchen and bathrooms,
Grady showed B.J. the second floor.
“This is our room.” He opened the first entrance on the right in a long hall full of closed doors.
He stood in the entrance, watching her stroll around the room and study the furniture. She peeked into the closet and was surprised to see all 188
The Trouble with Tomboys
his clothes pushed to one side, leaving the other half completely bare. The skin on the back of her neck prickled as she wondered if this was where Amy had hung her dresses.
“I cleaned out a few drawers for you too,” Grady said, bringing her attention back around in time to catch him opening a dresser drawer to show her it was empty.
She blinked in surprise. He’d cleaned the space out for her? That meant...leaving the closet half-bare hadn’t been some tribute to his departed wife. It was done in order to welcome B.J. Feeling ashamed of her thoughts, she looked at the room in a new light and realized this probably wasn’t even the master bedroom. There wasn’t a bath connected, nor did it contain some of the amenities a homeowner would put in his private chambers.
He’d probably moved into this room after Amy died. That suspicion was confirmed when she moved back into the hall and motioned toward the half a dozen closed doors lining the walls.
“What’re they?”
Grady shrugged, unable to meet her eyes.
“Other rooms,” he said on a mumble and started back down the stairs.
Though she was tempted to go peek, she decided not to mess with opening any closed doors just yet.
She turned to follow him back down to the ground floor. But once she entered the living room, an open photo album caught her attention. Wandering closer, she jerked to a stop when she saw a picture of Grady feeding Amy a piece of wedding cake.
Unable to stop her curiosity, she stepped
cautiously closer. Then she sank into the chair and pulled the album onto her lap. Grady turned, noticing her preoccupation, and immediately zipped his gaze guiltily to hers. He opened his mouth as if to apologize for its presence, but what came out was, 189
“I didn’t mean to leave that out.”
B.J. shook her head, letting him know it didn’t matter. In a way, it really didn’t matter. It’d been so long since she’d seen Amy.
Smiling at the picture, she said, “She sure was happy.”
Grady closed his mouth and slowly eased down next to her. “Yes, she was.”
B.J. turned the page and snorted when she
caught sight of a huddle of women falling over themselves to catch Amy’s bouquet.
“You know, you’re the only person I can stand to hear talk about her,” Grady said.
Jerking her head up, B.J. gaped as he gave her a half smile.
“Everyone else is always so sympathetic when they mention Amy. It...makes me sick. I mean, almost physically ill. I can’t handle pity. It just...it makes me feel worse. But you...you actually talk about her like she existed. And you remember when she was happy and healthy and alive.”