Page 22 of Delayed Intention
“Ginger, this is Lily.” The dog looks like a pit bull in her face, but is smaller than any pit I’ve seen, and she has longer legs. The hair around her neck is wavy, and her tail has longer hair than I’d expect for that breed. She has almost gold-colored eyes, which I’ve never seen before on a dog. As if reading my mind, Josh explains, “In case you are trying to figure her out, Ginger is a border collie-pit mix.”
“She’s so cute. Can I pet her?”
“Sure—she’s friendly—she’s even trained to be a therapy dog, so I can take her to the clinic.”
As if on cue, Ginger lifts a paw for me to shake, which I do. “Wow, you are a pretty girl, aren’t you?” She looks like she is perpetually grinning, which makes me smile in turn, and I reward her cuteness by scratching behind her ears, which she seems to like.
“Ginger, up.” With that, the dog jumped back into the truck and climbed into the back seat after looking to see if I was joining them. Meanwhile, I struggle to get up and into the front seat.What is wrong with me?Except I know exactly what it is. Being in his presence has reminded me that I have always carried a torch for him. A torch currently flamed by a magnetic attraction that is stronger than anything I remember feeling. To say Josh is good-looking is like saying Jane Austen was kind of important to the genre of romance. Both things are true, and both are wildly understated.
I’m so screwed.
Some part of my brain decides to fill the space in the truck with mindless babbling before I can stop myself. “So, you live here now.”What the hell, Lily?Sometimes it is better not to open your mouth at all, I think in my mother’s disappointed voice.
He ignores that I’m a complete novice at making conversation happen by responding. “Sure do. Settled here once I was done with the PHS—it’s been almost five years now. I love it—even the winters. I am a bit far from Mom, though.”
Meanwhile, I’m struggling to think about what to say next and not sound like I have zero socialization, so I just turn and look out the window. I take deep breaths. I try to think about what a normal person would say in this situation. For now, all I can think about is how hot he is, which I don’t want to discuss. And he’s so fit. And tall. I’m not a short woman, but I have to look up at Josh unless I want to just stare at his shoulders. Or the base of his neck. Which I could probably make an argument for. If I could think straight.
We were parking a block from Libby’s before I knew it because Estes is so small.
“Here we are.”
Josh hops out, while Ginger looks at me from the back and waits for me to descend before she hops down, her leash in her mouth. Josh leashes the dog so that the three of us wait for the light to change at the crosswalk.
“Look, Lily, you seem a little nervous. It’s just me, remember? I meant what I said in the letter—I’m looking forward to this week. He is standing just to the left of me, and I have to tilt my head up to look at him.
“Thanks,” I grimace. “Josh, it isn’t just you. I meant what I said about my anxiety. It’s a big part of me, sometimes it’s my whole personality, you know? I’m sorry, I’m so awkward.”
He reaches over and puts a hand on my forearm, turning me back so I face him. Whatever he’s about to say is lost when Ginger barks. The light had changed, indicating the time to cross. Meanwhile, the spot where he had his hand on my arm felt warm, like a glow on my skin.
That’s different.Rubbing my arm, I follow Josh and Ginger across the street. I’m struck by what it may mean that Josh’s touch feels warm. Most of the time, the touch of another person makes me feel like pulling away. In the past, I had been comfortable with Josh, but I don’t really know the man next to me—I need to be careful. Fighting the urge not to take his hand and put it back on my arm, I walk alongside Ginger to Libby’s.
Reconnecting Some Dots
Josh, Estes Park, November 2024
Libby’s is busy despite the time of year. I’m glad I’d phoned ahead for an outdoor table. The Falls River runs right behind the restaurant, and while it is loud, I remember Lily telling me how she loves that sound. They have those giant space heaters and blankets to keep patrons warm despite the cooler weather. My selection was primarily so that Ginger could join us. After my reaction to her pictures, I felt like I needed Ginger to be my buffer, kind of the equivalent of insisting on wearing a superhero mask to dinner if I were eight years old, which I’ve decided not to think too hard about. The server arrives with a bowl and two glasses of water for the table. The blankets are on the back of the chairs, but it’s warm out for now, especially for November. After a glance at the menu, we decide to split a veggie pizza, and I order a beer while Lily orders a pop.
“You don’t drink?” I ask.
“I do. I mean, I do and I have, but I figured I’ve been awkward enough for one afternoon.”
She’s looking down at her nails, which are painted a dark green color. She still seems jittery—do I say something to try to ease her mind, or try to change the subject? She doesn’t say more, so I don’t either. I’m having a hard time navigating her comfort while still feeling edgy myself.
During the lapse in our conversation, Lily is watching the water rushing by, while I’m surreptitiously watching her. She’s naturally beautiful, and I wonder if she even realizes it. Does she still critique herself the way she did when we were kids? She’s wearing a lavender Nirvana sweatshirt under her black puffy vest with a jean skirt, black leggings, and white tennis shoes. She may have a bit of eye makeup on, or maybe that’s how her eyelashes are—long, black, and curled at the ends. Her brown eyes catch the light as she watches people on the riverwalk, and I notice there are little flecks of gold in them. Her nose, which she always seemed to hate as a teen, is long but suits her face. She smiles at something and then looks up at me. When our eyes meet, her smile broadens, transforming her face from pensive to inviting in a flash. She is captivating.Shit. Too late, I realize she’s busted me staring at her.
“What?” She looks amused and less nervous, and I feel caught in the act.
“It’s just…good to have you here, visiting…like this.” I swallow down some beer. Hopefully, she hasn’t taken up mind-reading since I last saw her.
“I feel the same. I’m happy to have this chance to come out here—to see you. I mean, I’m sorry my family is putting you to work like this and that they feel I can’t just handle a little wedding planning myself. And I…” She hesitates, redness coloring her cheeks as she fiddles with the napkin in front of her. “I’m also embarrassed I was so awkward earlier. I wish I hadn’t let so much time pass before I contacted you again.”
“Hey, Lily, it’s okay. Really. We’re just feeling each other out again; it’s understandable. Anyway, practice makes perfect.”
She gives me a relieved smile that meets her eyes. “Thanks, Josh.”
The drinks arrived at the table, and after sipping my beer, I decided to just jump into the plans for the week.
“It looks like we don’t have any appointments tomorrow, since the first one was canceled by Felicia, something about the facility getting into a disagreement with Ellen? So that leaves three places to visit. Oakley Lodge, Cody Inn and Resort, and the John Muir Ranch. Each place has a tasting menu, grounds to look at, and cakes to try. Wednesday will be Oakley. Thursday is Cody and John Muir will be on Friday. There are a couple of photographers we are supposed to meet with on Thursday morning as well. There’s also an appointment with a makeup artist on Friday morning and a hairdresser on Sunday. Ellen made makeup and hair appointments on Saturday, but I didn’t know if that would be okay with you. So, I switched them.”
