The Dating Intervention: Book 1 in the Intervention Series (39 page)

“Geez, Delaney,” Camille muttered. “You’re really on a roll today.”
 

Delaney couldn’t help herself. She burst into tears. She buried her face in the crook of her arm and sobbed. Camille reached across the table and laid a hand on Delaney’s head.
 

“Oh, sweetheart. I know you really liked him. He sounded like a really great guy. But maybe he’s just not the right one.”
 

“He
is
the right one!” Delaney said without raising her head. “He is. I thought we were, like, an item, you know? I thought he liked me just as much as I liked him. He showed me a hockey movie, for goodness’ sake. And then he goes and ruins it. He ruined everything. Where did I go wrong? What did I do? I was actually behaving myself, following Summer and Josie’s stupid rules. The stupid Dating Intervention. It’s a failure.
I’m
a failure!”
 

“There’s got to be some explanation,” Camille said quietly. “He sent you flowers.”

“He took me sledding.”
 

“He helped you get that job.”
 

“He brought me breakfast.”
 

“He ate your cooking.”
 

Delaney wailed.

The couple at the table next to theirs gave Delaney a speculative look, still chewing, forks poised over something pink (crab salad, maybe?).

Delaney wondered how long they’d been married. They were old and in everything from their age-spotted, wrinkled hands to their bright pink crab salad to their red cardigans, they looked the same. She wanted to wear red cardigans with Jake fifty years from now.
 

But she was starting to feel like she’d never wear red cardigans, or get wrinkly hands with anyone, ever. She’d be eating crab salad at the Castaway Cafe, a.k.a. The Senior Citizen Hideaway, alone, no one there to drape her red cardigan over her shoulders or pass the salt and pepper.
 

The waitress returned with the fish and chips Camille ordered for them.

“You know, honey,” Camille said, “I’m almost positive there is more going on there than you know. There has to be an explanation.”
 

“Mom, just because you found true love doesn’t mean everyone else is destined for it, too. There is no explanation other than the fact that Jake Rhoades doesn’t feel the same way about me as I do about him. I’m destined to be alone forever with a growing number of cats. End of story.”

Delaney sat in her front yard, surrounded by flowers. Flowers in little plastic six-packs, flowers in big pots and flowers whose roots were wrapped in plastic. Camille was inside, brewing some iced tea, which Delaney thought she’d probably lace with vodka or bourbon. Delaney looked helplessly around at the cheerful, vibrant purples, pinks, yellows, reds and whites, and she resolved that she wouldn’t let them die.
 

If she was going to be a spinster, a cat lady, the weird old woman who wore colorful sneakers with patterned knee socks every day, then she was going to have to learn how to garden. And she was going to have to get more cats.
 

Pixie glared at her through the front window.
 

“What are you glaring at?” Delaney said.
 

Camille breezed through the front door then, a pitcher in one hand and a couple of plastic cups in the other. “There’s nothing like gardening on a beautiful spring day to lift the spirits, Delaney,” she said.

Delaney accepted the cup and took a big gulp before realizing it was, in fact, laced with something strong. She took an even bigger gulp and set it down.

“Let’s get to it, then,” she said.

For hours, they worked side by side, on their knees in front of the flowerbed. They turned the old soil, added fresh soil and turned that. They set the plants out, stood back, rearranged them and then began digging holes. It was therapeutic, Delaney thought, but she probably wouldn’t go so far as to admit that to her mother. Plunging her hands into the dirt, churning it up, smelling that rich scent. In fact, Delaney thought, she could make gardening her lifelong companion, if she didn’t kill all her little charges. Although that’s probably what would happen. She would decide she loved gardening and then suffer repeated bouts of heartbreak as each plant withered and died.
 

“I bought you a special surprise,” Camille said as they patted the soil down around a juniper shrub.
 

“I thought my special surprise was whatever you spiked the iced tea with.”
 

“No, it’s even better.”
 

A moment later, she returned from her car with a long roll of hose and small plastic bag.

“A hose?” Delaney said.

“Don’t look so disappointed. You’ll see. Help me unroll it.”
 

“Wow. It looks pretty impressive,” Delaney said a few minutes later. “Thanks for the hose, Mom.”

“Delaney. Knock it off. It’s an irrigation hose. You bury it in your flowerbed, set this handy timer” – she held up the plastic bag – “and it waters your flowers without you having to think about it.”
 

“Oh. I guess that
is
pretty cool, actually.”
 

As they began burying the hose, winding it between and around plants, Delaney heard a car pull up. She had a vision of stomping down the tiny seedling of hope that sprouted, and then realized that imagery was counterproductive to her new gardening hobby. It wasn’t Jake. It was probably someone turning around or going to a neighbor’s house or looking for a thinner, longer-haired woman.
 

Unfortunately, she saw when she looked up that it was Summer’s van. Almost unconsciously, she looked for a hiding spot as Summer and Josie climbed out and headed across the grass. Of course, there wasn’t one.

“Ooh, great idea, Dee,” Summer said. “An irrigation hose. Give ’em a fighting chance.”
 

“Shut up,” Delaney mumbled.

“My idea,” Camille said. She stood up and gave Summer and Josie each a hug.
 

“Ooh, testy this morning?” Josie said.
 

“Could you just give it a rest?” Delaney said. “Just this once?”
 

“Sorry, Dee.” Josie grimaced, then held up a paper bag. “We brought supplies.”
 

“More gardening supplies?”
 

“No. Heartache supplies. We’ll be right back. C’mon, Summer.”
 

When the front door had closed behind them, Camille said, “That’s sweet.”
 

Delaney rolled her eyes.
 

“We’re almost done here, and then I’ll leave you girls to your heartache supplies,” Camille said. “Just help me bury this line.”
 

As they worked, Camille said in a quiet voice, “You know, honey, I still think there has to be some explanation. You two really hit it off. I wouldn’t let it go quite so easily, if I were you.”
 

Delaney’s eyes filled, and she wiped them as best she could on her sleeves.
 

“I’m humiliated, Mom. I thought things were going so well, and then he’s just there with another woman. And he knew I was going to be there. Even though I want nothing more than to be with him, I also never want to see him again.”
 

Camille got to her feet and went over to the hose bib to set the timer.

“Oh, honey. I think you do want to see him again.”
 

After a few moments of quiet while Camille adjusted the dials on the timer, Delaney heard the hiss of water running and watched as dark areas appeared in the flower bed. She had to admit, she found this all pretty impressive. But she wasn’t in the mood to make a big deal of it. Camille turned around, wiping her hands on her jeans.

“All right,” she said. “You’re all set up. Now, doesn’t this look cheerful?”
 

They stood back and Delaney had to admit: the flowers, bright against the creamy yellow backdrop of her house, did add an air of festivity. It pissed her off.
 

“Yeah, it looks cheerful,” she said.
 

“Could you sound any
less
cheerful?” Camille put an arm around Delaney’s waist and squeezed. “This will pass, Delaney. There are plenty of great guys out there. Jake Rhoades isn’t the only bull in the pasture, you know.”
 

Despite her grumpy mood, Delaney chuckled.
 

“All right. I’m going to get out of here and leave you girls to it.”
 

She wrapped Delaney in a tight hug, kissed her cheek and said, “Keep your chin up.”
 

***

Inside, Summer and Josie had laid out an impressive spread of cheer on the small dining table. Delaney’s spirits lifted at sight of the wine, chocolate chip cookies, chocolate bars, pretzels, candy and gossip magazines. Tears sprung to her eyes yet again, and she bit down hard on her lower lip to keep them from flowing freely.
 

“How did you guys escape your husbands on a weekend?” she asked.
 

“Paul had an overtime deal he had to do,” Josie said, “and I called and begged Derek to let Summer come for just an hour or two.”
 

“He wasn’t happy about me skipping out on family day,” Summer said. “But I put in a movie and the kids went into zombie mode. That helped a bit.”
 

“Well, thanks for coming over,” Delaney said. “Nothing like friends, wine, chocolate and junk food to mend a broken heart.”
 

“We brought a movie, too,” Summer said, holding up a copy of “Thelma and Louise.”
 

Delaney couldn’t stop it this time: she began crying in earnest. Her body shook with sobs. She sat down at the table, put her head down on her arms and kept on crying. For a full second, no one spoke. Delaney would have found the situation entertaining if she weren’t in the midst of a full crying jag. Then Summer and Josie seemed to break out of their collective trance. They rubbed Delaney’s back and stroked her hair.

“Men are scum,” Josie said.
 

“Yeah,” Summer added. “Total scum.”
 

“He wasn’t that great anyway,” Josie said. “I mean, he was always wearing a worn-out t-shirt.”
 

“Yeah,” Summer said slowly. “And boots. Does he think he’s a cowboy, or something?”
 

Delaney wailed. “That’s what made him so sexy!”
 

She could feel her friends exchanging a glance and a shrug. They changed direction.

“You don’t need a man right now, anyway,” Summer said. “You need to concentrate on your new job.”
 

“New jobs take a lot of concentration,” Josie agreed. Delaney could feel her nodding.
 

“You’re doing that thing,” Delaney said. She sniffled as she moved away from them and filled a bowl with popcorn. “You’re nodding, which means you don’t really believe what you’re saying. You’re nodding so we’ll nod, too, and then maybe what you say will be true.”
 

She wiped her nose. Summer walked into the living room and put the movie in the DVD player. “All right, D,” she said. “That’s enough. We didn’t come here to watch you pout, we came here to help you feel better. And the only way that’s going to happen is if we eat this junk food, drink the wine and watch the movie.”
 

“But they
die
at the end,” Delaney shouted. “They commit
suicide
! That is
so
not healing!”

Josie sniggered, but stopped short when Summer shot daggers at her.
 

“It’s about friendship, D,” she said. “Now bring your popcorn and come sit on the couch. Josie, get the wine flowing.”
 

Delaney and Josie obeyed. As the previews played, the three of them settled onto the couch.
 

“Don’t you guys think I should call Jake?” Delaney asked. “I mean, just to get some closure?”
 

“Men are scum,” Josie said again. “You just need to let him go.”
 

Summer nodded. “I thought he was really great, too, Dee, but we were wrong. Josie and I agreed we need to be much more guarded when it comes to your heart. You looked so happy with him, and he with you, that we thought you could go full-out. Full throttle. Whatever you want to call it. But we realized we jumped the gun.”
 

“But it just doesn’t seem right,” Delaney said. “I mean, he wouldn’t just show up at the rodeo dance with another girl, knowing I was going to be there, if there wasn’t some explanation.”
 

“Or, he would,” Josie said. “Maybe it was his way of breaking it off because it was getting too serious. He thought he wouldn’t have to actually have the conversation with you if you caught him with another woman.”
 

“That stings.”
 

“I repeat: men are scum. How many times do I have to say it?”
 

“But I have to know
why
,” Delaney said. Her voice bordered on whiny, but she didn’t care. “There has to be a reason.”

Summer put a hand on Delaney’s. “People can’t always give a reason, Dee. You know I believe everything happens for a reason, but it’s usually a reason defined by the Universe.”
 

Josie stifled a giggle. Delaney rolled her eyes.
 

“Dee, we think the Universe is telling you that you should never talk to him again,” Josie said. “And we accept responsibility for selecting a scumbag.”

Summer nodded. “The Dating Intervention resumes this Thursday. Take a break for a few days.”
 

She motioned to the table. “Have some wine. Eat some junk food. Watch the movie.”

“How was your weekend, Doc?” Doctor Kat asked, even as she pored over a complicated-looking financial spreadsheet at her desk, using a bright green John Deere ruler to go through the numbers.
 

“How was
your
weekend?” Delaney asked.
 

“Real good.” She paused and looked up from her spreadsheet. “Real good. How was your weekend, Doc?”