Page 43 of Shit Happens in Ivydell

An Angel at First Glance

Since I’ve been tryingnot to smother Jensen, I’ve been showering Mom with updates about my time here. She seems genuinely glad to hear all about it. That date she didn’t tell me anything about before is now referred to as their first date. She’s gone out with him three more times, and those dates have been the subject of her last three texts.

This is an unprecedented level of dating for her. When I was growing up, she always tried to tell me she believed in the third date policy, meaning no kissing until then. When I was sixteen, I asked her why she didn’t follow that policy if she believed in it. Her eyes looked like they were going to bulge out of their sockets. I explained that if the story about the magician whofathered me was true, they definitely did not go on four dates, and they definitely did more than kiss.

There was no further mention of the third date policy in our house, but as I sit here texting her, I can’t help but giggle about how she’s now been on four dates with this guy. I guess they’ve kissed. For all I know, he could be snoring in her bed right now.

I’m happy for her, so I don’t give her a hard time. I will, but I’ll wait until I know he’s a good guy.

Jensen texted me a few times yesterday, but he didn’t ask to see me. He told me he secured the posts for his sign, but I’d already seen it when I went to the store.

I mentioned that the concrete has eroded around a lot of the other signs. The little dots that indicate someone is typing kept appearing and disappearing, making me laugh because I could envision what he was doing: Sighing. Typing a message to say he was not repairing everyone’s signs. Then backspacing. Saying he’d take a look at them. Backspacing again. Saying he’d shore up the ones that were in danger of falling down, but that was it.

It’s what he does when his knee-jerk reaction is no. He softens his stance a few times, and then he settles on a compromise. With himself. He talks his way around it until it’s his idea. It might be one of my favorite things about him. Maybe because so many things about him are still unknown to me, but I know I can count on that. He doesn’t guard that part of himself so closely.

I painted a few more signs yesterday afternoon, and I kept hoping maybe Jensen would wander up to check the posts, but he didn’t. I didn’t hear from him last night. He said he was feeling better in his last text message, though.

We’ve talked about being open to seeing each other after I went back home. I still want to try that, but I’m not sure if he’s into the idea anymore. Maybe distancing himself now is his way of softening the blow when the subject comes up again. I don’tthink I’m brave enough to bring it back up. If his answer is no, I’d rather just leave and let things fade out between us.

If that makes me a coward, then that’s what I am. But I don’t want to see his eyes if he tells me he no longer thinks we’d be worth the effort. Maybe it’s more that I don’t want him to see my eyes if that happens.

It’s possible he’s just been tired from being sick.

But Josephine mentioned he went fishing with Cujo. I think she thought I already knew. Hopefully, my face didn’t reveal too much. If he felt well enough to fish, he couldn’t have been all that tired.

There is a faint knock on my door. I think that was a knock?

It’s Alma and Elma. Their hair is braided and they’re wearing matching beige linen pants with lightweight blue sweaters. Alma’s is navy, and Elma’s is the color of the sky. No puffy vests today.

“Good morning, dear.”

“We thought you might be ready to walk down for coffee. Leo is brewing the mushrooms today, and we remembered you were keen to try it.”

Keen? I wouldn’t go that far, but I didn’t gag like some people did when he mentioned it.

“Let me slip on some shoes.” I run my fingers through my hair and pull it up into a loose bun. I’m not really ready to go anywhere, but it’s sweet that they came by, so I’m going, anyway.

“This is for you.” Alma holds out a small organza bag when step outside to join them.

“Just a little token of appreciation.”

“What did I do to deserve it?”

“You spiffed up our sign. And it looks so nice.”

“It’ll make it easier for people to find us.”

“I was happy to do it.” I open the bag. It’s a chunk of amethyst, but it’s been carved. I pull it out to take a better look. It’s an angel. She looks like she’s swaying.

“Thank you. This reminds me of Gran’s angels in her paintings.”

“We thought you’d like that one.”

“I do. I like it very much.”

All I planned to take away from this place were memories, and hopefully, some answers. But these little gifts I’ve been given mean so much. They’re nice things, but they’re heartfelt, too.

“Let me just put her inside real quick. I’ll have to find a special place for her later.”

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