Page 49 of Leave It to Us
When had she decided that her life would only consist of her job? Hadn’t there been a time when she’d imagined the life that Lana had? Not the photography part, because Yvonne truly had felt her calling was with children—whether teaching them or helping to guide them through the educational system—but the other parts that Lana had seemed to effortlessly claim. Meeting a kind and caring man who would propose marriage and build a home with her—that’s the part she’d missed ... or rather, she’d pushed aside in lieu of career achievements. And now what? She had certifications and degrees, a decent savings account, financial retirement plans, and a title she was proud to hold in her industry. What she no longer had was her own town house—which she’d sold when she moved back home with her mother after the stroke—or her own life, for that matter. Not that she’d done much socializing before Freda’s health crisis, but since that day, Yvonne had done zero socializing. She hadn’t been on a date in almost three years. Hadn’t gone out with coworkers or even some of the women from thechurch that she’d grown up with. All she did was work and take care of Freda.
And she was tired of it.
That admission had come sometime during the early-morning hours, when she was still wide awake. She’d been feeling unsettled and uncertain for the past year but hadn’t really wanted to let her mind circle enough to find the culprit for those feelings.
But during those hours when sleep hadn’t found her, some long-overdue answershad. Now, at a little after seven in the morning, as she got up to start her day, she had to figure out what to do with those answers.
Or rather, here she was, falling apart instead of thinking about last night’s revelations or starting her day.
It was Saturday, so there wouldn’t be a full crew working at the house. At least, that’s what Deacon had told her last night. They needed to do some demolition on the back part of the house, removing some parts of a corner of the foundation where the plumbers needed to dig down to get to the pipes. She’d planned to work on cleaning up in Grandma Betty’s room. They were going to save that room for last to refresh but she, Lana, and Tami had agreed that they would go through all her personal things together.
She used the edge of her shirt to wipe her face and then cleaned up the things she’d used from the medication bag. After dropping the trash in the small brass can beside the nightstand, she grabbed the bottle of water and dug into the bag again to pull out a bottle of pills. She took the first and then the second pill, drinking the rest of her water and then dropping the bottle into the trash too. She was just about to grab the bag and put it back into the drawer so she could go take her shower when her phone buzzed with a notification.
It wasn’t a ring, so she knew it wasn’t her mother. Freda did not text. Lifting the phone and removing it from the charger, she swiped the screen to see what the notification was. It was a text from Deacon.
DEACON:I’d like to feed you dinner tonight
Yvonne stared at that message for she didn’t know how long. What she did know was that he couldn’t be serious. Like, really, this must be a misdial or mistext or whatever it was called. In the past few weeks, she and Deacon had shared a few meals—if you counted sandwiches that had been ordered from the café at one of the resorts, which one of his staff members had gone to pick up, or leftovers of whatever food Ms.Janie had sent them since the woman was intent on feeding them like they were children. Not that Yvonne was complaining. With the kitchen in such disarray, it would’ve been hard for them to cook anything, and the way her diet needed to be set up, home-cooked food was better for her. Ms.Janie’s food, however, still made it a struggle to maintain her weight and keep a close eye on her sugar intake. That bread pudding she’d had from Deacon’s mother a few weeks back had sent her sugar skyrocketing. But she knew she could indulge here and there; she just couldn’t make a habit of it.
And none of that mattered, because Deacon couldn’t be asking her out to dinner. She’d told him to stop flirting with her weeks ago. And to her knowledge, he’d listened, because all they’d been doing since then had been working on the house. Except this text had come on the weekend, way earlier than normal work hours. Still, he could text her at any time about work; they’d already established that, which was why he had her phone number in the first place.
The ringing phone had her ready to jump out of her skin a few minutes later as she was still standing by the nightstand staring at it.
When Deacon’s name popped up on the screen, she cursed.
“Good morning,” she answered, trying not to sound like she was as perplexed as she felt.
“Mornin’,” he replied. “Figured I should call, since tone and clarity can be misconstrued via text.”
“Uh, yes—yes, it can,” she answered.
“I’m asking you out to dinner,” he said. “I mean, it’s not actuallyout. It’s dinner at my mother’s, but I want you to come with me.”
Shit. That was worse than him asking to take her out to dinner. Wasn’t it?
“Yvonne? You still there?”
“Uh, yes, yeah, I’m here.” Acting like a goofball. She shook her head, forcing herself to get it together. “You want me to come over to your mother’s for dinner? Tonight? Why?”
He chuckled. “Yes. Yes. And because you need to eat dinner, right?”
“I do, but I’ve been eating dinner right here with my sisters,” she said.
“I know, but tonight I’d like you to eat dinner with me,” he said. “And my family. If you want, I can ask your sisters if it’s okay for you to go.”
She smiled. “Don’t be funny.”
His response was to chuckle some more. “Look, it’s dinner. Good food, nice people, a walk by the water. I know you like that.”
She did like it, and he knew because he’d mentioned seeing her go for her daily walks along the shore every day. It was relaxing and gave her time to think of something other than all the worries in her life, so she’d made a point to take that walk every day. It was also good for her health, but she hadn’t told anybody that.
“I can walk along the water here,” she said.
“You can, but then I won’t be there to hold your hand and share pleasant conversation with you.”
“I don’t need you to hold my hand and share pleasant conversation.”
“Sure you do,” he said. “You’re just not ready to admit it. But before you launch into a whole spiel about me not flirting or what you do and don’t need, just say yes. My mother’s feelings will be hurt if I have to hang up this phone and tell her you declined.”
