Page 27 of I Knew You
She cast a prolonged look straight at me when she was done, but I pretended not to notice and stared out the windshield. “Whit didn’t tell you any of that?” she asked.
I loosened my grip on the steering wheel, letting one hand rest casually on it. My mouth curled into a sly smile. “I wanted to hear you tell it.” I let myself ooze the charm I so rarely used anymore.
To my surprise, she smiled back. “You always were the biggest flirt.” Of course, she had caught on immediately.
“Some things never change,” I replied with a shrug.
“What about you?” she asked. “What do you do these days?”
I shifted in my seat, uncomfortably trying to conjure theright words. “Work. Volunteer.”Think of you.“I’m a supervisor for the US Forest Service.”
“Ooh, that’s fancy. Sounds important.”
“I’ve worked for the Forest Service for a while.” I didn’t elaborate because I longed for her to know me as someone seasoned by life, not as the Bram Winchester of our teens. I briefly considered telling her about my work with Mill Creek Aid, but it felt like bragging, which I did not want to do. I wasn’t always the purest of heart, but MCA was too important for me to use it to score “good guy” points.
From my periphery, I noticed that she was still clasping and flexing her hands in her lap.
“Are you cold?” I asked.
“No.” Then she startled, as if remembering what she was doing. “Oh, my hands? It’s a nervous thing…”
I should have considered how nervous she was, just as I was. I felt like I was forging a river without a raft. So much tension remained between us.
I needed to get a grip on myself. There would be an opportunity to apologize for the wreck and tell the whole truth about what happened if I were patient. Until then, I could stay close as the friend she needed. Part of that meant not pushing her to talk about our tragic past when she had drawn a clear line.
“I’m sorry this is anxiety-inducing, too. What can I do to make it better? I want you to be comfortable.”
I imagined it was on the tip of her tongue to tell me I could go back and erase that December night from her memory. But we both knew that was impossible, and she would never say something so blatantly unkind.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, and she looked out the passenger window where I couldn’t see her expression anymore.
After a few minutes of silence, I turned the radio back on at a low volume. We were nearing the turnoff. When we arrived at it and I slowed, she turned towards me and said, “You livehere? Down this road?” The dashboard lights illuminated her curious face.
“Yeah,” I replied, turning the steering wheel with one hand. “It’s the old Wheeler farmstead. Do you know it?”
I could hear my pulse in my ears and feel anticipation tightening my insides.
“Yes! I used to come here with Grams when I was little to see old Mrs. Wheeler. They were friends. Even after she died, Grams would bring Whit and me here sometimes for a quiet day out. I bet Whit told you about that.”
“Maybe.” I didn’t want her to know that I bought it solely because of her affinity for it. It hadn’t been an easy property to procure. It sat abandoned for years with the forest slowly creeping down the hill to reclaim the barn and house. When I visited ten years ago, the porch had caved in, and weeds and vines covered the old clapboard siding.
But I saw the vision of what I wanted the house to be. I often pictured Julianna as I restored it. Many days, it felt like I was sharing the experience with a ghost.
But now she was here, and she would see what I’d made of it.
“It’s going to be obvious I had no intentions of you coming out here today,” I said. “Let’s just say, I am a bachelor in the most stereotypical sense. And I have a dog. Probably should have mentioned that.”
“Oh? What breed? What’s their name?” She sounded excited, and I was relieved. Grams never let Whit and Julianna have pets, so I wasn’t sure where she stood.
“I’m not sure of her exact breed. I got her from the shelter a couple of years ago as a pup. They thought she was a beagle and golden retriever mix. Her name is Lakey.”
“Lakey.” She tried the name on for size, a broad smile flooding her face. “That’s cute.”
We turned onto the long driveway to the main house, gravelcrunching underneath the wheels. It wasn’t until we turned the bend that we could see the porch lights shining in the pitch-black of the hollow.
Julianna said nothing when the truck stopped in front of the three-car garage fifty yards from the house. I knew what my home looked like with my eyes closed. I’d touched every inch of it with my bare hands. But she seemed unsure, squinting to make out the details in the dark before she slipped out of the truck. I watched as she better took in the white siding and black tin roof of the house. She could see the long, covered porch on the front lit up, showcasing a double swing and rocking chairs. I tried to keep everything well-maintained and clean, and I was glad my efforts were finally paying off. She moved around to my side of the vehicle, still staring at the façade.
Her expression melted into one of awe and appreciation.
