2: History Repeats

I could feel it happening. Sweaty palms, palpitating heart, dry mouth. I was reverting. Soon, I’d fully transform into the awkward, anxious girl I’d been in high school. In five, four, three, two…

Wes smiled, his golden hazel eyes warming. A squeak slipped passed my lips.

And there she is.

I cleared my throat and smiled back. “H-hey.”

“And on that note.” Jack’s voice yanked my attention away from Wes. I looked his way in time to see him ambling toward the exit. “Nice seeing you again, Tierney,” he added as he slid the screen door open.

            I opened my mouth to stop him, acutely aware that he was about to leave me alone with Wes, but before I could eke out a syllable, Wes stepped back into my line of vision.

“It’s been a while.” He leaned against the counter I straightened my shoulders. Get it together, Tierney. “You look good.”

            I glanced at the simple green dress I wore and wished I’d put a little more effort into my appearance. Brushing my reckless waves from my face, I said, “Thanks. You, too.”

I willed my lungs to fill with oxygen as my eyes traced over him. His blond hair had been forced into cooperation with scissors and a comb and now sat neatly over his ever-appealing eyes. His smile, that perfect, beautiful smile, remained the same, though. It still sent my heart bouncing around like a Ping-Pong ball gone awry.

How was it possible that he looked even better now?

 “How have you been?”

His question broke through the static in my brain and I nodded. “Yeah. Good. Me, too.” Wincing, I tried again. “I’ve been doing well.”

“I’m glad.”

Silence crept over us. I grabbed a dishtowel from the counter and twisted it in my hands. Just beyond Wes, half a dozen sets of curious eyes peered through the patio door. Go away, I thought, turning my attention back to Wes. This is not a live-action soap opera for your entertainment.

Except that, in a town like June Lake, it kind of was.

Tossing the towel back on the counter, I took a breath. “Rumor has it you took over the veterinary clinic when your dad retired.” I swallowed around a sudden lump in my throat. “Just what you always wanted.”

He tilted his head. “The rumors are true.”

“That’s…” My throat burned with congratulations that wouldn’t come. I urged the word to tumble from my tongue, but it refused. I was happy for him—really. But here he was, making all his dreams come true, while I…well, I wasn’t.

“So listen,” he said, glancing behind him. Our group of spies scattered like cockroaches. “I’ve got to get going, but maybe we can grab lunch tomorrow? Catch up?” He gave me a hopeful look and my angst was forgotten.

“Yeah, okay.” The words spilled out before I could stop them. Eyes widening, I tried to pull them back. “Actually—“

“Great. Noon at the Backdoor Diner?” He moved passed me before I could answer. A whiff of something warm and spicy hit my nose, sabotaging any last attempt at declining I had on my lips.

And then he was gone.

I sagged against the counter and rubbed my hands over my face. I just agreed to meet Wes. For lunch. Tomorrow.

Why had I done that? I was leaving tonight.

Letting out a groan, I pushed away from the counter. I couldn’t go. It was that simple. I needed to get back to Port Agnes, I needed to get back to work, I needed to get away from—

Wait.

Did…did Wes just ask me on a date?

Why would he do that? He—

He did seem happy to see me. And he’d said I looked good. Maybe…

I glanced out the window at the party still in full swing. As my father held up a platter piled high with food, Jack reached up and poached a hot dog, grinning in victory as Wes eased behind him, headed toward the gate.

As if he could feel my eyes on him, Wes glanced back, a smile just for me on his lips. Heat flooded my cheeks and I smiled back.

Yep.

I was definitely going on a date with my ex-fiancé.

***

As soon as I’d returned to the party, I was greeted with daggered looks and questions ahoy. It seemed Wes and I had stolen the show.

I’d been in town for barely two hours and I’d already greased the gossip mill.

I let my eyes scan the yard as I headed back toward my father, looking for a head of messy hair and a stained t-shirt. I hadn’t gotten to properly thank Jack for his rescue earlier. Looked like I wouldn’t get my chance tonight.

I squelched the disappointment as Mom sailed out the back door, birthday cake in hand. A rousing rendition of “Happy Birthday” filled the yard, and I looped my arm through my dad’s as the blazing pastry arrived. Directly across from me, my brother, Stephen, stood—five-year-old daughter in his arms, wife at his side. He caught my eye and smiled, prompting my niece to wave excitedly. I waved back and, in that moment, I was glad I came.

Half an hour later, I sneaked back into the house, a paper plate piled with cake in one hand, fork in the other. “Ahh, cake,” I murmured as I stuck my fork into the delicious concoction. I turned the corner, heading for the living room. Far, far away from the crowd. “You’ve always been there for me.”

One could only take so many How are you’s and It’s good to see you’s. No matter how well-intended.

And, let’s be real, they weren’t that well-intended.

The people here, they didn’t like me much.

Eyes glued to the cake, I crossed the room to the couch. I’d missed this couch, with its soft cushions that hugged you like—

“What the—“ My butt hit a seat too stiff and unforgiving to be my mom’s couch. Leaning forward, I turned to investigate. Sure enough, this was not the poufy, delicious sofa that had been in the family room for years. This monstrosity was electric blue and not poufy in the least. Pretty sure my derriere would bruise from just sitting there.

I stood and rubbed my rear, my eyes moving around the room for the first time. I’d been so focused on the cake that I didn’t notice that I walked into a parallel universe.

It looked like someone had loaded a canon with the highlights reel from an HGTV show, then shot it all over the room. The walls had a weird texture in a shade of blue lighter than the couch, yet somehow more eyeball-searing. The fireplace, once a perfectly pretty red brick, had been redone in glaring white subway tile. The mantel was covered with Buddha statues of all shapes and sizes. Well, all sizes. There was really only one Buddha shape.

Since when had my parents converted to Buddhism?

Putting down my cake, I ventured further into the room. From furry rugs to shiny curtains, everything had changed. Fear for the rest of the house overtook me. Cake forgotten, I wandered into the dining room, wincing at the modern, sharp-edged black furniture and absurd zebra-print rug. How long had I been away? I mentally calculated. My last visit was for Christmas, so…four months?

Did my mother launch headfirst into a midlife crisis in that short amount of time?

As I reached the stairs, something occurred to me. If the lower level had managed to change so drastically, what did that mean for the rest of the house? Was my childhood bedroom transformed into a modernistic torture chamber? I was almost afraid to find out.

“Oh, you are still here.” Mom popped around the corner with an armful of beers for the still-partying guests. “I thought maybe you’d hit the road.”

“Without saying goodbye? What kind of daughter would I be?” I crossed the floor and took a few beers from her. “I may not come visit as often as you’d like, but give me some credit, woman. Also,” I continued, sweeping my free hand across the room. “What’s up with all this?”

“I’ve been taking interior decorating classes at Brightwell Community College. Do you like it?” Mom’s eyes lit with pride and I didn’t want to tell her I was afraid the army of Buddhas might kill me in my sleep.

“Yeah, it’s…great.” I hoped my grimace passed for a smile. “I particularly like the, uh…spaghetti and meatballs painting in the dining room.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Mom took my words at face value, admiring the abstract atrocity from afar.

“So,” I said. “I think I’m gonna crash here tonight, if that’s all right.”

Mom’s eyes widened. “You’re staying the night? We could go shopping tomorrow! Oh, we’ll have so much fun.”

“I’ve actually got lunch plans,” I said, hesitant to be specific.

“Oh, yeah. I saw you talking to Jack earlier.” Mom said it with a smile that told me that she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.

“What? No.” I brushed her off with a hand. “Just an old friend. But maybe we can go shopping after.” I threw in the last part to keep her from asking who the ‘old friend’ was. I didn’t need word getting around town that Wes’s barracuda ex-fiancée had reeled back in. That might prompt the gathering of an angry mob outside the Backdoor Diner. And I hadn’t brought my running shoes.

“Sounds good.” Mom whirled back to the kitchen. “Oh, and when you’re ready for bed, come find me. We’ll have to put sheets on the futon.”

Well, that didn’t sound good. Glancing into the kitchen, then up the stairs, I sighed. Where did I put that cake?