Page 36 of I Knew You
“That must have been so disappointing.” I heard the hesitancy in her voice. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to talk about it, but I wouldn’t cut her off. “Whit texted me when it happened. I was floored. It didn’t feel right reaching out to you, but I’m sorry. I probably should have.”
“There is nothing to be sorry for. You weren’t under any obligation to contact me.”
I reached over and turned the heat down as the truck cabin became stuffy.
“What did you do after it happened? Did you stay at college?” Her words were hesitant.
“No. I went to my Mom and Dad’s.”
“Oh.” Her tone told me she wouldn’t say anything further, so I continued, “I had to have surgery, and Elsie somehow morphed into a parent for five seconds. She stayed with me through the surgery and brought me home, even when Dad told her not to.
“Of course, she didn’t care for me herself. She hired a nurse for that. But she handled the logistics, which was much more than she did when I was younger. Dad was so angry. ‘How dare I make a stupid mistake,’ that kind of thing…”
“Why would he be angry at an accident? It’s not like you wanted to be hurt.” She looked indignant.
“It’s who he is,” I replied. “Failure of any kind was never an option for me. He didn’t look at me for weeks after the surgery. I moved out the second I was back on my feet. I finished college online and never went back to Alabama.”
“But you kept up with Whit?”
I nodded. “He was becoming more stable by then, more like his old self. He visited me here in Mill Creek a few times.”
The trees swayed as we drove through a canopied part of the mountain road.
“I want to ask about Whit,” she whispered. “I have so many questions.”
“And I would love to answer, but don’t you think it might be better for you to ask him?” I hoped my words weren’t too sharp. To deflect, I brought the conversation back to myself. “I never told him, you know. About that night. You asked me not to, so I never did.”
I glanced over at her then. Her attention was fixed on the road, her face neutral to my admission. “Good,” was all she replied.
“I wanted to tell him,” I said. “But what you want is more important to me. I need you to know that.”
“Hmmm.”
I couldn’t bear to look at her as my heart pounded loudly in my chest. Instead, I kept my hands firmly on the wheel and my eyes on the road.
“It’s funny how we all three came unglued without Grams. She kept us together,” she mused softly.
What she said was technically correct. Grams had been significant to us, individually and together. And we’d all made poor choices in the aftermath of her death, but she didn’t have anything to do with those choices. Grams had taught us better.
I didn’t reply. I couldn’t. Instead, I tried to lighten the mood. “How did you meet your best friend? The one with the bakery?”
It was the right move. Julianna pivoted and gushed about Kallie, her bakery, their long friendship, and their lives in Charlotte. “I’ve been alone a lot since her fiancé Brandon entered the picture,” she tacked on at the end of her welcomed sharing. “I’ve got other friends, but none as close as Kallie. When she moved out of the townhouse, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I’m happy for her, and I like being alone most of thetime. Nothing is better than curling up with a good book, a piece of pie, and some mood lighting after a long day.”
“Still a pie gal after all this time?” I smiled, thinking of the Christmas party where she said Whit had lured her out of the house with the promise of pie.
“Of course. Pie isn’t something you get over or grow out of.” She pulled on her seat belt a little. “Not that I need to be eating so much pie, but?—”
“I think you should eat all the pie you want,” I interrupted, unwilling to let her go down that path. I’d never let her think I felt anything but appreciation and yearning for her body exactly as she was. “What is your favorite pie?”
“Blueberry,” she replied without hesitation. “Maybe cherry? I also enjoy a nice peach pie in the summer and apple pie on the Fourth of July.”
“So, you like fruit pies?” She was beautiful, with her long, dark hair cascading around her shoulders and full lips pursing into a thoughtful pose. I loathed missing one second of her expressions. I hadn’t paid enough attention years ago when my crush hadn’t fully bloomed. I regretted the time I’d squandered. Now, all I wanted to do was watch her.
“Well, yes. But also chocolate pie, butterscotch, and peanut butter. Pecan, on the holidays. Kallie made me one a few months ago called a shoo-fly pie. It was a warm vanilla custard made with buttermilk and sugar. It was sinfully good. She said the recipe came from her great-grandmother and…” She continued on and on, nervously rambling, and I wanted to chuckle. Not to poke fun, but because she was trying to remain calm about pie, and failing.
Watching her passion was both endearing and inspiring. I loved it when she lit up. I didn’t want to offend her with teasing, so I remained neutral and listened to her soothing voice, tinged with an Appalachian drawl.
“I could listen to you talk all day,” I admired when shewrapped up her pie talk. A fierce blush streaked across her porcelain cheeks, but I saw her smile reflected in the passenger window. I’m sure she thought I couldn’t see her, but I looked for her everywhere.
