Page 42 of Dreams of Falling
“What is it?” I asked. He didn’t look surprised by my question. We’d always been able to read each other, doing away with unnecessary words that would have formed the bridge between thoughts.
“Jackson said he asked you to dinner tomorrow night. On a date.”
“Yes,” I said slowly.
He narrowed his eyes a little. “Are you sure you want to do that?”
I bristled. “Yes, I’m sure. And I don’t really think it’s any of your business. Besides, I thought you two were friends.”
“We are. That’s why I’m telling you I don’t think it’s a good idea. He’s, uh, he’s got a reputation with women.” He looked at me closely. “He likes them a lot.”
“Well, that’s a relief, seeing as how I’m a woman. I’m going to dinner with him, not marrying him.” I stepped back toward the house, eager to end this conversation.
“That’s a relief. Because I swear I remember you telling everyone you know since you were in grade school that you were going to marry Jackson Porter.”
Heat rose to my face, and I wished I hadn’t left the visor on the boat, needing its shade now more than before. “I was a little girl, Bennett. I also used to tell people that I was going to be the next Leontyne Price, and I could have sworn I remember you telling anyone who would listen that you wanted to be a truck when you grew up.”
He set his lips together in disapproval. “Yeah, well, just be careful. Don’t forget how he wasn’t so nice to you back in the day.”
“That was a long time ago. We’re both completely different people now.”
Bennett stood there, shaking his head. “Are you? He certainly hasn’t changed, and you, well, once we get past the glossy exterior, you’re still the same girl craving attention from the wrong guy.”
“Seriously?” I said, almost spitting with anger. “Are you saying he’s only interested in me because I look better now than I did back then?”
“In a word? Yes. Jackson’s not very deep. He’s made a science out of skimming on life’s surface and is quite happy that way. For the record, I always liked you, and I still do—although I shouldn’t. I’m still a little ticked off that you left without saying good-bye and didn’t keep in touch, but I’m also full of admiration for you because you did.”
His words took the sting out of my anger, and I saw him once again as my lifelong friend who knew all my secrets—almost all of them—and liked me still. He knew how I loved watching the sunrise over the marsh and that I drank my coffee black. That my favorite color was yellow and that I hated green beans and watching tennis on television.
“Thank you,” I said tightly, swallowing my anger. “I appreciate your concern—I do. But I’m old enough to take care of myself.”
He nodded silently, realizing there was nothing else he could say to dissuade me. Among all the things he knew about me was that once I made up my mind about something, there was no turning back.
“I guess I’ll see you around,” I said, preparing to head up the dock toward the house.
“One more thing,” he said, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. That always meant that he was thinking of the right way to present something his listener might find objectionable. “I visited Carrowmore yesterday to take some pictures and look at it more closely. I’m not going to lie to you—it looks pretty bad. Even stuff not burned in the fire has since been rotting in the wet climate. Not to mention the collapsed roof that allowed in a lot more of the elements than I’d say is healthy for an old house.”
I was about to say something flippant about bringing in a bulldozer to put the house out of its misery, but the look on his face stopped me. He’d always been fascinated with old houses and old buildings, dragging Mabry and me on explorations of abandoned properties in Georgetown County and then farther afield when he’d earned his driver’s license. It occurred to me that he’d found a way to corral hispassion into a career that not only suited him but made him thrive. I felt an odd stirring of jealousy that both he and Mabry had succeeded where I hadn’t. When we were growing up together, it had always been a foregone conclusion that I would be the one with all the boxes checked next to my goals and aspirations, yet here I was without a single check mark.
“It kind of reminds me of you.”
I’d been too busy feeling sorry for myself and hadn’t been listening until he said that. “What does?”
“The house. Carrowmore.”
“Because it’s a complete ruin?” I looked closely at Bennett to see if he was joking or just intentionally insulting me.
“No. I think because it’s been waiting a long time to be rediscovered. To find its place in the world again. For people to recognize its strength and beauty.”
“Like a phoenix, rising from the ashes,” I said sarcastically.
He didn’t laugh. “Sort of. There was something else that I noticed while I was there. The purple martin houses—someone’s been tending them.”
“How can you tell?”
“They’re all pretty clean, and martins don’t do that by themselves. It had to be a person.”
I recalled the feeling of something nagging me the last time I was there, something that hadn’t made sense. I realized now it was the martin houses. “Must have been Ceecee,” I said.
