Page 6 of Salvaged Heart
She scoffed and said, “I doubt it. Anders doesn’t do friends.” Then added, “Why do you care?”
I didn’t, but I wanted to get to know the guy for some strange reason. If we would be spending all summer together, it would be nice not to do it in awkward, strained silence. But I knew that hope was best not shared with her, and the conversation moved instead to floor stains, wallpaper, and whether or not I liked the idea of black trim. I nodded and hummed along with Laurel and Margery’s conversation as if I had an opinion. In reality, all I needed to know was what color to paint where and which tile was for which bathroom.
We ate a pathetic spread of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for dinner. When the plan was made to tear the kitchen out today, little thought was given to how we would feed ourselves until the new kitchen was fitted, which could take weeks. Tomorrow, after Margery left for the airport, we’d have to venture into town and get a hot plate so we could at least manage the basics.
The girls were impressed with the progress Anders and I had made in the kitchen. It would only take another half day to gut what remained and the rest of the day to get it scrubbed top to bottom, ready for a fresh coat of paint and a brand-new floor. Laurel had selected a rustic pine plank, leaning heavily into the southern farmhouse vibe of the home’s exterior. The cabinets would be a soft blue, with marble countertops, stainless steel hardware, and appliances, topped off with a geometric backsplash and shiplap accenting the large window that overlooked the front lawn. There was a passionate debate ongoing regarding the merit of floating shelves. One I was clearly expected to cast the deciding vote in but had avoided by declaring I would sleep on it, a.k.a ask Anders his opinion in the morning, before getting back to them.
By the time we stumbled into bed shortly after midnight, my brain was a jumbled mess. My muscles were exhausted from a long day of hard labor, and my shoulder ached fiercely. Since my injury, I’d done my best to follow the recovery plan the doctors had laid out for me, and for the most part, it had been getting better. However, lugging heavy wood around and the constant vibrating of the electric drill all day had probably pushed it a little too far. I needed to ice it, but to my disappointment earlier, I’d found the ice maker in the freezer broken. The best I could do for it now was rest.
“Oh, I almost forgot.”
I pulled Anders’ rendering out of the pocket of my jeans and passed it over to Laurel, who stood brushing her long hair in the bathroom doorway. It had taken some persuading him to part with it, especially after I had mentioned showing it to his sister. In the end, he conceded with a huff. “I doubt she will be as interested as you are,” he grumbled, tearing the page out and thrusting it in my direction before vanishing upstairs.
“Look at this, Anders drew it.”
She gazed down at the image with the same level of wonder I had the first time I had seen it. “You can’t be serious? He drew this?” She turned the image over in her hand as if looking for the signature of the true artist.
“Who would have known he had an eye for these things? He told me he used to draw as a child but only recently picked it back up.”
“Not me, that’s for certain.” Her eyes raked over every inch of the drawing, the corners of her lips turning down in a slight frown. “I don’t have a single memory of seeing him draw.”
She wouldn’t have. Anders said he had given it up long before they became members of each other’s families.
“I thought he could do more. We could frame them somewhere in the house.”
“I wouldn’t hold your breath, Beck.” She handed it back to me and turned off the light.
A few moments later, the air mattress dipped as she joined me in bed, curling into the space against my side where she slept every night. Her cold toes rubbed against my warm calves, and her lips skated over the pulse point in my neck. “Anything else to report from today?”
I rolled over to face her, running my fingers through the smooth waves of her hair, combing out the ends. “Not really. Today went surprisingly smooth. As expected, Anders jumped at the opportunity to smash up the kitchen. Honestly, he’s theonly reason we got it taken down so fast. I think he found it therapeutic.”
She hummed dismissively. “I am sure he had a lot to say about me.”
I shook my head despite it being too dark in the room for her to see. “I get the feeling Anders wants nothing more than to repair you guys’ relationship.”
“I’m sure he said as much.” She scoffed.
“He didn’t say much at all. I think he is going through something he doesn’t want any of us to know about.”
“It’s an act.” She snapped.
I was so taken aback by her sudden sharp tone, so out of character I barely recognized her voice, that I found myself pulling away from her touch. “I don’t think that’s true.”
“No, you wouldn’t.” A long sigh left her lips, the sound of it almost mocking. “I swear, Beck, you can be so naive sometimes. One afternoon with the guy, and now you’re what? Best friends?”
I bristled. “That’s unfair.”
Back in Tennessee, Laurel was one of the sweetest people I knew. She had never met a stranger she didn’t instantly like and rarely had a bad word to say about anyone. Yet, when it came to Anders, it was like she morphed into a completely different person. An awkward silence spread between us. Was this what the entire summer would be like? Laurel, stewing over some mysterious incident that happened years ago, Anders, remaining surly and aloof while I got caught in the middle, walking a tightrope between them.
“I’m sorry, I’m just tired. I don’t know why I reacted so harshly.” She finally whispered. “Can we stop talking about this and get some sleep?” She reeled me back in, pressing a soft kiss to my lips.
I didn’t have it in me to lie to her and pretend her behavior was okay, so I settled for, “It’s been a long day,” and flipped onto my back again to look up at a ceiling I couldn’t see.
It didn’t take long for Laurel’s breathing to become slow and even. Meanwhile, I continued to stare blankly into the darkness for hours, picturing the way Anders’ face had looked when he told me all the vile things his sister said about him were true. I didn’t understand where this desperate need to know Anders had come from, but it made me antsy for the next time we would be alone.
Sleep was finally starting to pull me under when the noise of Anders’ bike pulling up outside the house startled me awake. There was a sound eerily like the motorcycle falling over before the front door opened, and heavy, uneven footsteps began to make their way up the stairs. Feeling the overwhelming sense that something was wrong, I rolled slowly off the air mattress we had been sleeping on and crept to the bedroom door as quietly as possible to avoid waking Laurel. The hinges creaked as they swung open, and my eyes squinted down the stairs into the dark hallway below, catching on the shadow of a person slumped over at the bottom.
“Anders?”
