I was on edge the first week back, unsure if, or when, Clay would show up.
Desperate for distraction, I plunged into my two part-time jobs and worked as much as possible. I woke up early each morning, showered, ate breakfast, and packed a lunch, all long before Sam got out of bed. And because I still cared, I started his coffee before I walked out the door. In the evenings, a dark house greeted me when I returned home, worn out from the long day. Usually, Sam had something set aside for my dinner. I’d eat, go to bed, then start the cycle again the next morning.
I could have asked Sam if he knew what Clay planned, but he hadn’t mentioned Clay since we’d left the Compound. I feared, if I brought it up, he would think I missed Clay or something. Since I didn’t want Sam sending out a call that might cause Clay to show up when he otherwise wouldn’t, I kept quiet. Worry ate at me; but, as time passed, and my hectic schedule successfully prevented thoughts of Clay, I started to feel safe again.
Three weeks before the start of school, I found the perfect roommate, Rachel. I’d been watching the papers near school when I came across her ad for a roommate. We hit it off the first time we spoke on the phone. She attended the same school in which I’d enrolled and was going into her third year in the nursing program. She rented a two-bedroom house. Her roommate from the prior year had moved out after graduation. Rachel had tried living on her own over the summer, but the bills grew too expensive and the house too quiet.
After our call, I did some research and found the house wasn’t in the best part of town, but I couldn’t find anything closer that I could still afford. Plus, the unoccupied bedroom she offered came furnished with a bed and a dresser; I didn’t own the bed I slept on now and didn’t feel right taking it with me when I left. So, I called Rachel back and let her know I wanted the room.
Sunday, a week before school started, I once again packed my possessions, an old familiar routine I’d forgotten while living with Sam. Sam pretended not to care I was leaving, but I knew he did. I’d only stepped out of my room for a minute to grab my shampoo and brush from the bathroom, and when I walked back into the room, I caught him slipping some money into the emergency cash I kept hidden in a half-full tampon box in my dresser. He pretended to check the dresser as if ensuring I hadn’t forgotten anything. I went along with it.
Packing didn’t take long. Everything I owned fit into several messenger bags and an old suitcase I’d gotten at a secondhand store. By lunch, we had what I needed loaded into the back of Sam’s truck. A passerby wouldn’t have noticed the small pile.
After one last look around the house to make sure I had everything, we climbed into the truck and started the journey. Sam looked slightly depressed as he drove. Excitement filled me, but I fought hard to keep it from showing. I didn’t think my joy would give him any comfort.
“You’ll call me if you have any trouble?” Sam asked, yet again.
“Yes, Sam. But I’m over four hours from you. I’ll need to face things on my own.”
“Not on your own. Elder Joshua has moved nearby. I’ll be able to contact him if you have a need.”
Sam had mentioned Elder Joshua to me a few days after I’d found Rachel. I knew Elder Joshua’s recent move was for me but didn’t make any complaint. As long as he stayed away until I needed something, we’d get along just fine.
When we arrived, Rachel sat waiting on the front step of the small ranch house. She’d described herself on the phone as just over average height with brown hair and eyes. She’d left out everything else. Her deep, brown hair hung silky-straight, and the beautifully bronzed tone of her skin had me wondering if she had any African-American heritage. Her perfectly arched brows didn’t appear tweezed or penciled, and they highlighted her darkly lashed eyes.
At about five-foot ten inches, she surpassed average height. Long, lean legs extended from her cutoffs, and her V-neck top showed sufficient cleavage to know she didn’t need to stuff her bra, either. Overall, she was gorgeous enough to make a straight girl wonder if she should switch teams, and that worried the hell out of me. Oh, not that I’d switch teams. As annoying and obsessive as men were, I still preferred them. No, her attitude the first time a man overlooked her and focused on me, worried me. Let’s face it. Pretty girls can be very mean.
I drew my brief gaze from her as she stood to watch Sam do a Y-turn to back into the driveway. Using the side mirror of the truck, I studied the house.
A cracked and uneven sidewalk led to the front steps. Faded yellow aluminum siding and brown trim gave the small house a slightly run down look. Rachel had mentioned room dimensions to me to prepare me. After living at Sam’s place, this house did appear small from the outside. Only two windows adorned the front of the house. There was a large picture window, which probably meant a living room, and, on the side of the house close to the driveway, a much smaller window. With the shade half-drawn, I assumed it belonged to a bedroom. How many houses had just two windows on their front? At least, they looked new, as did the roof.
As Sam backed into the driveway, I smiled and waved to Rachel. She walked toward the truck while Sam parked.
“Hi! Gabby, right?” Rachel said with an excited smile.
“Yes.” I opened my door and stepped out of the truck. She caught me off guard by pulling me into an embrace. With my arms pinned to my sides, I fought the urge to pull back. “I hope you’re Rachel.” With that, she let me escape from her exuberant hug.
“I’m so glad to see you look so normal,” she said looking even happier than she had a moment ago. “I was worried I’d end up with someone weird when I put that ad in the paper.” Ah, that explained the happiness. Too bad, she had no idea how “weird” I was.
Sam came around from his side of the truck.
“Rachel, this is my grandpa, Sam.”
“Hi, Sam!”
He quickly extended his hand for a friendly handshake, and I hid my smile. He’d noticed her boisterous hug.
Rachel clasped his hand. “Would you like to come in and see the place before we carry everything in?” She darted a puzzled look at the back of the truck.
I smiled. “We’ll be able to carry it in and take a tour at the same time. I don’t have much.”
We grabbed my bags and walked around to the front of the house. The door opened to a tiny entry, with the vacant bedroom immediately to the right, a small hall closet straight ahead, and the living room to the left.
We all stepped into my room to set down my things. I’d been correct about the window being a bedroom window.
As Rachel had promised, my room came furnished with a full-sized bed. I had just enough space around it to walk. Accustomed to a twin, it seemed overly large. Thankfully, I had the correct bedding for it. A gift from Sam. The closet was a small rectangle, but more than enough space for what I owned. The only other piece of furniture—a small, battered wood dresser—leaned against the interior wall. Nothing decorated the walls, which Rachel said she’d done on purpose, so I could add my own flair to the room.
Rachel gave us the grand tour of the five-room house. The living room was long, but not very deep, and occupied the rest of the front of the house. Rachel had it tastefully decorated. Two sets of curtains hung in the picture window. The soft cream-colored ones faced the road, while the inside set matched the color of the worn, brown leather couch centered in front of the window. Square, wooden end tables held cream-colored lamps with matching shades and crowded each end of the couch.
A chair, set at a sharp angle against the interior wall, used the remaining space in the living room. The TV wall she’d painted a medium brown while the standard off-white covered the rest of the walls, which included my bedroom and the entry. A large, dark-brown rug, a shade close to the color of the couch and the curtains, covered all but a small swath of the living room’s beige carpet. Overall, the room looked comfortable.
Through the living room’s arched doorway, on the same wall as the TV, a small hallway connected the living room, her bedroom, a tiny linen closet, the kitchen, the bathroom, and the door to the basement.
Rachel turned left and briefly showed her room, the larger of the two bedrooms. Then she turned us and opened the door between the living room arch and the bathroom. She flicked on the basement light and told me we had our own washer and dryer and plenty of room for storage.
She gave the bathroom, opposite her room, a quick wave. “It’s small, but it could be worse.”
I noted that, although the bathroom measured half the size of the one at Sam’s place, it didn’t feel cramped. The pedestal sink, tub, and toilet abutted the wall shared with my bedroom. White tile covered the walls to about midway, except for the shower area where the tiles ran from tub to ceiling. Dark-blue paint coated the walls and offset the overabundance of white. She’d also defused the white of the plastic shower curtain by layering a dark-blue, cloth shower curtain over it and used a cute, white flower clip to swag it to the side. Everything looked neat and clean.
Finally, she led us to the kitchen. An addition there extended the room five feet into the backyard and brought it from worthless to functional. Just inside the kitchen arch, to the right, a table for four sat against the interior wall. Along the wall that faced the driveway, a wall-to-wall counter supported the sink and provided four cupboards. Two separate wall cupboards hung on either side of the sink, allowing light through the kitchen’s only window. The refrigerator stood to the left of the arched kitchen entry, along with four more cupboards top and bottom. Standing free, the stove occupied the unclaimed space on the exterior wall. Just enough room separated the cabinetry from the stove to allow the bottom cabinet door to swing open. A garbage can hid between the stove and the door that led to the wooden deck and backyard.
Overall, the exterior condition of the house didn’t match the inside. The exposed carpet in the living room looked worn but relatively stain-free. The walls and ceiling could use a fresh coat of paint, but with the string of switching roommates over the last five years, the landlord probably hadn’t had a chance.
Rachel concluded the tour on the back deck.
“We’ll take turns mowing the lawn and shoveling the snow, and since it’s only a one-car garage, we’ll switch parking, too. But we’ll work that out when it starts snowing.”
I nodded in agreement as I looked at our small backyard. A new looking barn-red wooden fence separated our yard from the neighbor’s behind us while evergreen hedges barred the rest of the yard from the neighbor’s on each side. With the deck and garage, there really wasn’t a lot of grass to mow in back, but the front yard made up for it a bit. It reminded me of the Newton’s place, and I suffered an uncomfortable moment of longing before I strangled the feeling.
During the tour, Sam had remained quiet as he followed us and scrutinized the house. Outside, he stood beside me, studying the backyard as well.
“Well, Gabby, looks like you’ll be comfortable here. I’d better start heading back. You need anything, let me know.” He patted my cheek and stepped off the deck, neither of us comfortable with drawn out goodbyes.
I watched him climb into his truck and waved when he looked back. Again, my emotions ran amuck for a few moments as he pulled away, nostalgia robbing me of my moment. I’d been so ready to leave and start out on my own I’d not inspected my feelings for Sam too closely. Now I knew. I’d miss him. A lot.
Rachel seemed to understand my mood as we went back into the house.
“You have a nice grandpa,” she said, sitting on my bed as I unpacked.
I agreed and tried to shake the unhappiness that lingered. Less than five hours ago, I had looked forward to making my own rules. Here, in this house, I had the freedom I’d wanted. No more obligatory weekends in Canada. No meeting men I didn’t want to meet. My internal pep talk began to work, and I started to unpack with more enthusiasm.
Rachel took a few of the wire hangers from the closet and helped hang the t-shirts I’d crammed into a bag.
“Please tell me there is more in these bags than t-shirts,” she said. “I don’t mind them—they’re comfy—but where’s the clothes for going out?”
“Um, I really don’t own any.” Watching her while I said it, I didn’t miss the shocked expression that briefly flitted over her features. I looked over my small pile of clothes, most of them already on hangers thanks to her help. They lacked diversity. I’d never noticed before.
She changed the subject. “Got your bathing suit handy? With the backyard surrounded, the deck is perfect for working on a tan. Join me when you’re done.” Without waiting for my answer, she popped up from the bed and left the room.
Bathing suit? I didn’t even own one. I finished unpacking and heard the back door a few minutes later.
Tucking my suitcase under the bed, I covered the mattress with the sheets from Sam. Instead of feeling sad, a new feeling bloomed. Resolve. I needed this, living here with Rachel, someone my own age. Well, close to it. And female. Normal things like lying out in the sun had escaped me over the years. She’d help me catch up. That she didn’t seem adversely affected by me, gave me hope. Granted, she hadn’t yet faced rejection from a man because of me. Maybe we could work on becoming friends first. Who knew, it could help prevent the ugly hostility I’d grown accustomed to. I liked the idea of having a real friend. Sure, I had Paul and Henry, but I wanted a friend of the same gender.
I changed into the shortest shorts I owned and a strapless top that Barb had given me for my eighteenth birthday. I’d kept in touch with my foster parents because of their insistence. Even though they had a beautiful little girl of their own, they still thought of me, especially on my birthday. Feeling light at heart, I headed out to the deck.
Rachel turned her sunglassed-gaze my way when I closed the screen door.
“Where’s your suit?” she asked curiously.
“I don’t own one,” I admitted, lying on my stomach on the cartoon beach towel she’d laid out for me. “Didn’t want to embarrass my grandpa. He’s a little old school.” Honestly, I kept my wardrobe modest because it was safe...and I hadn’t wanted him to suggest I bring a swimsuit with me to Canada.
“Really? You don’t own one?” She propped herself up on her elbows and glanced at me over the top of her sunglasses. A wide smile spread over her lips. “Wanna go shopping? I’ll use any excuse to go.”
I hesitated. If I declined, we’d be starting out on a poor note. If I said yes, we’d most likely have an issue with guys somewhere along the way. But if I didn’t say yes, how could I hope to win her over as a friend? Any normal girl probably wouldn’t even stop to think about this. I really wanted to try for normal.
“Sure, let me go change,” I agreed.
“Yay!” She jumped up, grabbed both towels, and danced into the house behind me.
Since she had the car, she drove us to an outlet mall that she promised was the best and cheapest place to shop. Stunning in a tank top, short shorts, and cute little sandals with a heel, she outshined my drab, worn t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Still, I twisted my fingers in my lap and tried to quell my worry.
“While we’re here, we should look for some clubbing clothes for you.” She pulled into an open space and parked the car. “And don’t be afraid to tell me if I’m being too pushy. I love shopping, but have too many clothes already. By shopping for someone else, I get my fix without adding to the mayhem in my closet.”
“No, you’re not being pushy. I could use a swimsuit and a few new tops. But, I have to be honest...I’m not really into the party scene. Guys act too weird around me, and it makes me uncomfortable.”
“Weird how?” she asked as she reached for the door.
“Wait.”
She paused, turning to look at me.
I’d rather tell her where no one else would overhear. I took a deep breath. Normal. I needed to sound normal.
“Every friendship I’ve ever had was ruined by competition over a guy. Only problem was, I was never competing. I wasn’t interested in the guy my friend was. But the guy was interested in me.”
Behind her sunglasses, her eyes searched my face. I struggled not to squirm or look away. Anxiety bloomed. I should have kept my mouth shut.
Her lips curved into an amused smile, and she laughed.
“You’re a serious one. I can see that already. Don’t worry, Gabby. If a guy doesn’t trip over himself to get to me, I’m not interested. I don’t want to waste my time chasing what doesn’t want to be caught.” She opened the door to the sunbaked parking lot, and I followed.
We’d just crossed the black expanse, stepping onto the sidewalk in front of the stores, when Rachel nudged me.
“Check out this hottie.”
The man she’d spotted exited the same door we headed for. As I expected, he first looked at Rachel then at me. I looked down and kept my eyes on the sidewalk as we strolled past him.
Rachel obviously didn’t know about the “wait for the door to close” rule because she started laughing before I’d even made it over the threshold.
“He kept his eyes on you the entire time. I can’t wait to see what happens the first time we go out.”
I wanted to groan.
The clerk at the register glanced at us just then because of Rachel’s laughter. His double take at me caused her to start laughing even harder. I pulled her toward the back of the store before he decided he wanted to talk to us. Her carefree attitude about my effect on men did bring a smile to my face. Maybe things would work out.
After helping me pick out a swimsuit, a rather daring bikini that she insisted would not cause her the least bit of animosity no matter what attention it brought me, she talked me into a few more stores.
In three hours, I’d purchased two “clubbing” tops and a black mini skirt. I probably wouldn’t wear any of it. Sexy was a dangerous look for me. Heck, mildly attractive was even dangerous. But I liked spending the time with her. My careful spending slowed the process down a bit, but she didn’t seem to mind.
Back at the house, the pleasantly warm breeze and inviting deck beckoned us, and we decided to catch the dying rays before calling it a night. Really, I just wanted to try on my bikini.
I shook my head at the sound of the back door opening and closing five minutes after being home. How she managed to change so fast amazed me. My new clothes hung in my closet, except for the bikini. Since I was pale from spending most of my summer working, Rachel had insisted I purchase a bright pink number with vibrant yellow straps. She said it would give me a little more color. Normally, I’d be reluctant to wear anything that called attention to me, but Rachel had been adamant that people our age didn’t wear one pieces with built in skirts, the style I’d deemed safer. The top with its strings and triangle coverage concerned me, but I’d given in because of the boy-shorts style bottom. When she’d held up a different option with even less material, I’d quickly judged the pink and yellow suit the better option.
I pulled the tags off the bikini and slipped it on. Then, I twisted and turned in front of the mirror in my bedroom, worrying. The string top covered me decently. The boy-shorts bottoms hugged my backside. However, a lot of skin reflected back at me. I did like the suit...I just needed to get used to it.
Grabbing the sunglasses I’d bought, I left my room. When I reached the kitchen, I heard Rachel’s crooning voice outside. I stopped. Was someone here? Did I want to go out there in this?
I looked down at myself. Hiding myself because of the pull hadn’t made me self-conscious...more like extremely cautious. Men reacted less if I kept to myself, which included staying modestly covered. What would happen in a bikini? Better to find out now, at home, if I could wear it in front of someone else than to go to a beach with it. I straightened my shoulders and walked out onto the deck.
“Gabby, look,” Rachel squealed as I pushed open the screen door. “A dog!”
On the deck, Rachel reclined on her side, stretched out on a beach towel. Between her towel and the one she’d set out for me, lay a monster of a dog, relaxing in the sun. I stopped and stared. What was that thing? Although the size of a mastiff, it looked nothing like one. At least seven feet from nose to tail, the dog’s shaggy brown coat gave it a wild look. Rachel didn’t seem to mind, though. She continued to pet its head affectionately.
It turned its head, which moved it out of Rachel’s reach. Its soft brown eyes met mine.
Rachel shifted to a sitting position to reach its head again.
“It just walked up the porch steps and lay right down. I nearly peed myself. Have you ever seen a dog this big before? What kind do you think it is?” She continued to pet it lovingly.
I remained glued in place, my stomach sinking. Any lingering homesickness died as my suspicion grew. What are the odds that an extremely large, random dog just appeared at my door scant hours after Sam dropped me off? Improbable odds. When I’d said I would get a dog, I’d meant it as a joke. I couldn’t afford a dog.
“And you’re not going to believe what its tag says,” Rachel said, not seeming to care that I hadn’t answered her questions. “‘If found, please provide a good home.’ Isn’t that funny?” She ruffled his neck fur, which made his hidden tags jingle. The dog continued to watch me and ignore Rachel’s ministrations.
“Yeah. Funny,” I mumbled. The size of the dog would ensure men didn’t bother me. But a dog half its size would do the same. Why get one so big? Its size compared to Sam in his fur. Did Sam think some of his kind might bother me? If so, I didn’t see how a plain old dog would help. My eyes widened as my own idiocy dawned on me. Not a plain dog.
I needed to call Sam, find out what he’d been thinking, and then give him an earful for sending someone to the house to keep an eye on me. I was about to turn and go back into the house when Rachel said something that made my stomach drop to my toes.
“His tag also says his name is Clay. What do you think? Should we keep him?”