Meant for Me (7 page)
“Carter. Will Carter.” He slips the hostess one of his cards along with a twenty. “We don’t have a reservation, but I was hoping you could squeeze us in.”
I glare up at Will, but like a snake charmer, he doesn’t break eye contact with his prey. I’m fuming. If this is such an important meeting, why is he being so casual about it? He better get his shit together. I can’t work with someone who’s not going to take this as seriously as I am. There’s too much at stake.
“Just two?” she asks with a twinkle in her eye.
“Nah, more like five,” Will remarks nonchalantly, pushing his luck.
“Well, that might be more than I can handle,” she pouts, biting the tip of her pen. “Unless you’re willing to make it up to me.”
“How about tonight?” Will doesn’t even try to contain the grin spreading across his face. He’s well versed in this kind of dance. He made the opening move, but now he’s letting her take the lead. I watch in utter amazement at how quickly it all unfolds. “Seven o’clock?” Will questions, opening the calendar app on his phone. Give me a break. He can make the effort when it comes to a complete stranger, but he couldn’t use his perfectly manicured finger to tap in the arrival time of my flight? It figures. Different city, same old Will.
“Let’s say more like eight. I have a yoga class after work that I don’t want to miss.” Ugh, she wants to limber up before spending the night with him. He clearly gets what her saucy implication implies because his smile widens, showing teeth worthy of a toothpaste commercial. Too bad she didn’t see him as a thirteen-year-old with neon-colored elastic bands strung through his braces. I sure did.
“Done,” Will proclaims as a whoosh issues from his phone. “Be sure to text me your address…” he pauses, like he’s done this a million times.
“Becky,” she replies, winking at him before guiding us to a table in a secluded alcove, sunlight streaming through the window.
These random hookups come way too easily for him. They always have. He never has to work for it. Women just fall in his lap.
Becky lightly drapes her hand across Will’s shoulders as he takes a seat. “Enjoy your meal,” she whispers in his ear before heading back to her station.
“You are so smooth, it’s sickening.” I pretend to gag as I look over the menu.
“It worked, didn’t it?” He tugs on the lapel of his jacket, straightening out the crease where she touched him.
“Yeah, but why couldn’t you be like a normal person and make a reservation?” I can’t help but ask as I try to figure out the difference between the vegetarian and vegan options.
“Because it’s a lot more fun to live life on the edge.” His eyes are sparkling as I look up to see if he’s teasing me.
“And a lot more expensive,” I counter. “You’re already twenty bucks in the hole and you haven’t even taken her out yet.”
“Who said I was taking her out?” he fires back, making me blush.
“You’re too much,” I mutter as he laughs at my discomfort.
“Will, there you are! What are you doing hiding way back here? Or should I say who are you hiding? OMG, Davey! It’s Sookie Stackhouse!” A stylishly dressed man with a silk scarf hanging around his neck saunters over to our table. He appears to be in his late thirties although his skin is in fantastic shape. His face is as smooth as porcelain, so he could be older than he looks. I don’t think he’s had any work done, but his dermatologist is to be commended.
Next to him, holding his hand is a robust man probably in his mid-fifties. He’s the first overweight person I’ve seen in L.A., and there’s no hiding his receding hairline. The two of them seem like a mismatched pair, but by the way they’re beaming at each other, it’s obvious they’re in love.
“Warren, behave,” Will warns, rising to shake hands. “This is Miss Ivy Thompson, the muse who sparks my colorful imagination.”
“Ignore him, Ivy. My husband has a vampire fetish that’s pretty ingrained.” The older one, who I assume is Dave, takes my hand and kisses it. “It’s lovely to meet such a fine young lady.”
“No wonder you weren’t answering my texts, Will,” Warren scolds, sitting primly beside him. “I can see why you were distracted.”
“What texts?” Will appears puzzled. Not a good sign.
“The ones about the investor meeting us here. She’s coming directly from the airport,” Dave responds like he’s used to answering questions addressed to his husband.
“What’s her name?” I ask Dave in order to prevent Will from shutting me out of the conversation.
“See, that’s the thing. We don’t know. She wanted to keep things hush hush in case there’s a lawsuit pending. She works for a venture capitalist in New York. Her boss got wind of the project and had her contact us anonymously. It’s an unorthodox approach, but we investigated the firm and it’s legit. If they’re willing to pony up a few million dollars, we don’t care if they want to communicate with a secret decoder ring. Having a financial cushion is imperative with the risks associated with this project. But I think we’re going to bite the bullet and produce this film because what you’ve come up with so far is phenomenal.” Dave pats my shoulder before shaking out his napkin and placing it on his lap.
“You know that I wrote it?” I stare at him in amazement.
“Will’s not that smart,” Warren deadpans.
“Hey!” Will interjects.
“Honey, you are incredibly nice to look at, but you can’t even compose a coherent email much less an entire script. You can’t blind us with your charms, darling. You’re not that good of an actor.” Warren rests his chin in his hand to gaze adoringly at Will.
Will’s face turns scarlet. He’s mad, sure. But I know how he really is. He might be humoring Warren and Dave when it comes to advancing his career, but there’s no way in hell that he enjoys having a grown man ogle him in public. Will hates being considered a pretty boy. He must get hit on by guys all the time out here—but to have me witness it is another story. He must be ready to spit nails.
Warren’s iPhone chimes on the table and Dave picks it up, breaking the tension.
“She’s here,” Dave remarks. “Damn, I so wanted to order a soy latte before she arrived. I hate to talk business before my third cup of the day.”
“I’ll make sure you get it, Davey. Just hang in there a little longer,” Warren murmurs, patting Dave’s hand.
“Yeah, Davey. Hang in there. I assure you that what I have to say won’t take long.”
My jaw hits the floor when I recognize the voice of the person standing behind me. I make a move to turn around, but familiar hands land on my shoulders, anchoring me in place.
For the first time in his life, Will looks scared.
“You must be…” Dave begins.
“Lauren Price from LPR and Associates.”
At the mention of her name, Warren gasps, instantly making the connection, and I cringe as she digs her red fingernails into my jacket.
I should’ve known she’d be out for blood.
It’s mid-afternoon and still no word from Ivy.
I’ve left so many messages with the front desk that the receptionist told me to stop calling. I flooded Will’s inbox with emails. I tried Ivy’s cell number to check if her new phone was up and running, but it’s not. I’m at my wit’s end. Something’s up. I can feel it.
To take my mind off things, I decided to leave Ben in charge of the last two hayrides and asked my dad to ring up any purchases before locking up for the night. It’s better if I just go home. I’m only driving everyone nuts at the garden center, yelling at kids for getting underfoot and smashing a row of pumpkins after mistakenly throwing the tractor in reverse. I’m running on empty after what turned out to be a very long night. I couldn’t fall sleep, not without Ivy beside me. I’m used to having her pressed up against me. A balled-up pillow just doesn’t cut it.
Shep whines at my feet, and I give him a quick scratch behind the ears. He’s the only one who can put up with me when I get like this. He’s seen me at my worst, so this little episode is nothing for him. Ivy’s alive. She’s fine. I just have to keep telling myself that and calm the fuck down.
I’m able to function better if I stay busy and keep my mind occupied, so I head to the woodshed out back. It was my refuge from the world during those long and lonely months when I was working on the house. I started something new a little while ago and I want to make sure I finish it before Ivy returns. It’s part of the surprise I plan on giving her when she gets back.
I smooth a strip of sandpaper over the solid oak surface, making sure to remove any trace of a splinter. I test the rockers again and they move easily, not too little, not too much. All I have to do is apply the special non-toxic varnish and it’ll be all set—the crib for our baby.
I just wish I could forget what happened to the last one I built.
***
It was the night of Cassidy’s death. I was alone with a bottle of whiskey sitting in the bare bones of our house while the rain was pouring outside. I couldn’t believe that she was actually gone and that our baby would never get the chance to live. I was so mad I couldn’t see straight. I barreled up the planks serving as a temporary staircase and charged into the shell of a room that was to be the nursery. I trudged through a thick pile of sawdust and grabbed the crib. It was placed in the middle of the floor, awaiting the baby it would never hold.
Rushing back downstairs, I hurled it with all my might against the stone fireplace, dashing it to pieces. But that wasn’t enough. Even though it was July, I worked frantically to get a fire going in the hearth. It was dangerous to strike a match around so much untreated wood, especially with the wind raging through the chimney, but I didn’t care. I’d never get to bury my child. Cassidy’s womb would serve as its final resting place. I had to make some kind of offering to show how much I’d lost.
It didn’t take long to get a good blaze going even with the rain trickling down the eaves. I was like a madman, determined to finish the job. The elements of nature were not going to stand in my way. I was beyond them now, in a hell of my own making.
I picked up the broken shards of the crib and tossed them one by one into the fire. My chest constricted when I saw the border of flowers I’d engraved burst into flames. I was going to explain to our baby what I did for a living by tracing its pudgy fingers over the carvings of the rose and the daisy next to the tulip and the sunflower. So many hours of love went into the creation of that crib. I’d poured my heart and soul into it. That’s where our baby was going to dream sweet dreams and grow into a strong and healthy toddler. Cassidy and I were going to keep it beside our bed, ready to respond at the first hint of a whimper.
I cast a long shadow as I stood there and watched it burn. My tears mixed with the soot on my face, making me feel like a gravedigger of a different variety. I was accustomed to cultivating life and watching things grow. I had no idea how to handle being on the opposite end of the spectrum, glorying in the death and destruction of everything I held dear.
In that moment, I came to a stark realization. I needed a break. I was on the brink of diving into a deep, dark place I wasn’t sure I’d ever get out of. If I’d willingly jumped into the abyss, there’d be no saving me. I would have been lost forever. If I’d ended my life out of despair, I’d forever be separated from Cassidy and our baby, in this life and the next. I couldn’t give up on the possibility of one day being reunited with them in heaven. I’m not an overly religious guy but I knew I’d never forgive myself for going down a path of self-destruction, no matter how much I just wanted the pain of life to stop.
***
I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the memory and how close I came to taking my life on that storm-swept night. I’ve come so far in the last two and a half years. I have Ivy. I have a new baby on the way. The house is finished. The garden center is thriving. I have so much to be thankful for. But there’s one last thing that will make it all complete.
“C’mon, Shep,” I call out, patting the side of my leg after putting the varnish away. “It’s time.”
I yank the chain dangling from the exposed light bulb in the woodshed and snap the padlock on the door while Shep fidgets beside me. I take off at a run and Shep races me to my truck. There’s a lightness to my step when I think about the errand we are going on.
I look up at the house and really take it in. Even though Ivy isn’t here, I feel her presence all around me. Her muddy clogs rest near the flowerbed she was digging up for winter. Her rocking chair faces mine from the last time I massaged her feet. Next to the koi pond she loves so much, her junker of a car is parked—badly in need of a new transmission we just can’t afford. Thankfully what I’m after doesn’t require money. It’s something that’s been in my family for generations, and now it’s going to be hers.
Hoisting myself behind the wheel, I let Shep jump onto my lap and crawl over me. He gets to ride shotgun because Ivy isn’t here and his ears prick up, showing his excitement. His tongue slobbers across my face as he gives me a big ol’ sloppy kiss on the cheek.
“Gee, thanks,” I chuckle, pulling him away by the collar. “You missed having me all to yourself, didn’t you?”
But Shep’s anxious to get going as he moves over to look out the window, swatting me in the face with his tail as he goes by.
“All right, to grandmother’s house we go.” I exclaim, heading down the road with a smile on my face.
From the moment I swept Ivy off her feet, I pictured making this journey. Driving to my parents’ house. Asking for my grandmother’s ring. Placing it on Ivy’s finger. Showing her how much I’ve come to care about her—first with my words, then with my body. Since the day we met, I’ve hoped that this would be where we’d end up. Call me a fool. Call me old-fashioned. Call me crazy. The instant I held her in my arms, I knew I wanted to live again.
I thought that I was done with romance, that I’d had my shot at love. But one look at her and I was a goner. I wasn’t expecting it. I wasn’t looking for it. But there she was—the gift I’d never intended to receive. Nestled in those sparkling green eyes, life was giving me a second chance.
Up until then, getting through each day felt like I was holding my breath underwater, just waiting to drown. But the way she looked at me pulled me to the surface, out of the murky depths. I was clumsy at first, gasping and sputtering, relearning how to breathe and what it felt like to be alive. But she was patient with me, showing me how to bask in the warm glow of daylight again. Just being around her rejuvenated my spirit, like she was the lifeguard of my soul.
Lost in my daydreams of Ivy, I can’t believe we’re already here as I beep the horn at the base of the rocky trail leading to my parents’ house. It takes so long to creep up the uneven terrain that it became a habit to honk at the gate. My dad likes to be standing at the door, treat in hand, ready to greet Shep when he arrives. So I always have to give him a heads-up when his ‘grand-dog’ is on the way. Beside me, Shep is already going nuts.
I chuckle to myself when I see my dad in his suspenders sitting outside. He has his glasses perched up top of his head, and he looks worn out. He’s been having those headaches again. I should’ve manned up and completed the shift at the garden center instead of bothering him about it.
He smiles when we pull up, but I still feel guilty. I’m going to have to get a better grip on my emotions. I can’t keep putting him through this. He’s seen enough of my moods to last a lifetime.
“There’s my buddy,” he says, opening the car door to let Shep out. “I have your Milk-Bone all ready for you.”
“You have that dog spoiled rotten,” I mutter, joining them as we walk inside. “I can just imagine how you’re going to be when you have a real grandchild to fawn over.”
“Did your mom tell you about the stuffed giraffe we came across the other day?” he asks, rubbing his hands together. “It’s eight feet tall and its neck goes all the way to the ceiling.”
“You didn’t buy it, I hope.” I groan audibly as we enter the kitchen, and I give my mom a kiss.
“Of course we did, sweetie. How could we pass something like that up?” my mom exclaims, grinning at me.
“Don’t you think it might scare the baby? I want my child to feel safe in the nursery, especially after all the hours I spent making the crib,” I argue, even though it’s a lost cause. I already have visions of strapping the stuffed monstrosity to the back of my truck, fuzzy neck and all. There’s no getting out of it now.
“Oh good! So you did finish it.” My mom’s face lights up. “It’s on to step two then?”
“That’s why I’m here. I plan on proposing to Ivy the minute she steps off that plane.” My chest fills with pride. I want nothing more than to make Ivy my wife. Sure, we’re living together, and she just so happens to be carrying my child. But there’s something about walking down the aisle and making it official. I want to share everything I have with her. My name. My heart. My life.
“Did you hear from her yet?” my dad asks softly after having seen me go off the rails earlier today. I was ready to freak out after a little girl toppled over a whole bushel of apples, sending them sprawling across the floor. My nerves at that point were razor thin. My dad knew I didn’t need any more aggravation. He simply patted me on the back as I walked out the door.
I hate having to ask people for help, but I learned that sometimes it’s necessary, especially when I’m feeling overly stressed and at my breaking point. It’s no good flying off the handle when all I need is a few quiet moments to myself. Since my blow-up with Ivy for wearing Cassidy’s shirt, my dad made me realize what my limitations are. I can’t let life push me that far or let certain things trigger my meltdowns. I can’t always be in control, but I have to remember to step back and breathe whenever I start to feel overwhelmed. If I don’t, I only end up hurting the ones I love.
“No, and I tried every way I could think of to get in touch with her,” I sigh, running my hands through my hair. Suddenly I feel as haggard as my dad looks.
“I bet she couldn’t get to a phone store, honey, and she was most likely out of her hotel room all day. Will’s probably running her ragged, the poor thing.” I sense the concern in my mom’s voice, and I have no doubt she’s thinking what I’m thinking. Such a hectic schedule would be a strain on a regular person, never mind someone who’s pregnant. My worries keep multiplying as the minutes tick by.
“If you don’t hear from her by tonight then we call the cops.” My dad shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “No fooling around.”
“Frank—” my mom warns with a groan.
“I’m serious, Nancy. If that boy is gonna take our Ivy away and not even let her call home, we have the right to sic the LAPD on his ass.” He stomps his foot, causing Shep to howl. “See? Even the dog thinks I’m right.”
“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, dear. Now c’mon, Eric. Let’s go upstairs and get that ring and think some happy thoughts for a change.” She shoots my dad that look she always gives him when he’s gone too far, and he instantly falls silent. “There, that’s better. I thought he’d never shut up.” She giggles, and I just shake my head as we start to climb the stairs. My dad means well, but sometimes he overdoes it. I don’t think there’s any need to file a missing person’s report on Ivy—not yet at least.
I thought our destination was going to be the jewelry box on top of her nightstand, so I’m surprised when she ushers me into my childhood bedroom instead. There are no longer any football trophies on the desk or blue ribbons from the fair tacked to the mirror. After Cassidy died and I moved out for good, my mom packed everything away for when I was ready to look at it again. So much of my life was interwoven with Cassidy’s that it hurt to be reminded of all the memories we shared.
Stepping back into my old room, it feels like a different person lived here. A boy buoyed by hopes and dreams he thought for sure would come true. Reentering this space, I realize just how much I’ve changed. I’m a man now, hardened by experience and strengthened by love. I don’t take so much for granted anymore. I cherish each and every blessing in my life because I know how easily they can be taken away. I’m wary, but I’m hopeful. Loving, losing, and loving again has taught me a lot. Life has knocked me down, but it has also picked me back up. A moment spent wallowing in despair is a moment I’ll never get back. Life’s too short to waste pining over the past. I’d rather look ahead to the future. And thanks to Ivy, I’m able to do that now. My spirit was tested, but it didn’t break. If my struggles somehow strengthened me, then it was her love that saved me. Without going through the heartache, I wouldn’t have the joy.
“What are we doing in here, Mom?” I ask, scratching my head.
“Sit down,” she responds, patting the new comforter.
Even though the room’s been redecorated, the bed’s still in the same place. I instantly flashback to all of the conversations I’ve had with my mom in here when I was growing up—how she boosted my confidence the night before the SATs, lifted my spirits after a season-ending loss on the football field, scolded me for scratching during a nasty bout of chicken pox. Looking back, she was always there when I needed her, and I intend to do the same for my child.
