Page 19 of Jeremy
Shesneaks a peek at me every time she stalks past, and that little line betweenher eyes deepens. She’s fuming and it’s fucking adorable. I used to love thesmart, sassy, take no shit women, but the last thing I want to do is getinvolved with anyone now, especially since I’m not fit to be anyone’s father,and she obviously agrees since she hasn’t even told me about the baby.
Ihave no intention of letting on that I know. I’ll be helping her when I can, tomake sure they’re safe, but it’s the same as I would do for any woman all alonein her condition. If she decides to tell me, then I’ll discuss setting upsupport payments, but unless or until that happens, I’m just sticking moneyinto an account for the child when it’s grown.
Sheslams the car door and leaves a fifty-pound bag of puppy food on the groundnear her rear tire while she carries in the last of the grocery bags. Withoutthinking about it, I get up and grab the bag. She shouldn’t be carrying heavystuff right now. Her eyes widen when I step inside her door and ask, “Where doyou want this?”
“WhereI left it! What are you doing?”
It’sgoing to be a long nine months if she’s going to keep asking me that. “It’sheavy. Where do you want it?”
“Underthe cabinet.” She opens the cabinet doors and Woody comes barreling around thecorner, yapping and hopping around. He freezes as soon as he sees me andgrowls. Little bastard.
Iput the dog food away and head back outside without another word. She doesn’tcome back out of the house again, and no cops show up, so I guess she’s goingto let me finish the steps.
ChapterFive
Melissa
Sweatdrips down his forehead as he screws the last board into place. Every instinctI have says to go out there, take him some water or something, but I’m notgoing to do it. For one, the man is certainly unstable, if not outright insane.I mean, he tore out my steps and rebuilt them without saying a word, like heowned the place. Who does that?
Ihave too much on my mind right now to deal with a man who jumps from being amassive dick to doing nice things and back again like the flip of a switch.It’s the mistake I always make, being drawn in by assholes, but I can’t keeprepeating that cycle. It’s not just me anymore. I have another little life toprotect.
Thatdoesn’t keep me from enjoying the view from my front window though. It’s alittle pathetic, but I watch through a tiny gap in the blinds as he cleans upafter he’s finished and gathers up his tools to take home. As if he can feel mygaze on him, he looks right at me, and I drop the blind slat, stepping backwith a startled squeak.
Didhe see me? Why do I really care? I can look out my own damned window if I wantto. Woody dances around my feet, then dives into my lap when I sit on thecouch. He may be hyper, but he’s also very loveable, and I could use a cuddleabout now.
“Thingsare going to be hard, Woody. I have no idea what I’m doing and I’m so afraid,”I murmur against his fur. He looks up at me and licks my cheek as if heunderstands. Maybe he does.
Myphone dings with an email alert, and I feel a little of my stress fade as Iread the message from the local gallery owner. They want me to come in withsome of my new work, so we can discuss working together. I waste no timereplying and they get right back to me with an appointment for the next day.
“Well,Woody,” I grin, getting to my feet. “It looks like something is going to goright today. Let’s go decide what to take with me tomorrow.” Yeah, I need tomake some friends. I’m talking to a dog like he may actually answer me.
Woodyfollows me to my art studio, pausing at the door since I usually don’t let himin. “One scratch or tooth mark on my canvases, and you’ll never be in hereagain,” I warn, before gazing around at my work.
Ihave been really busy. After all the time that I couldn’t express myself, notout loud or through my art, it’s all come pouring out of me. I want to choosethree to take with me that showcase my different abilities. I choose awatercolor of the lake at dusk, and an oil painting of a hummingbird thatalways visits the feeder on my back deck.
Mygaze lands on the portrait of Jeremy. It’s good, but for some reason, it feelsprivate. The pain and humiliation that live within the paint strokes belong tome, but the agony on his face is all his. If it were anyone else, I’d ask themhow they’d feel about such a painting being publicly displayed, but I have nodesire to talk to him.
Screwit, this is the best work I’ve done in years. I’m taking it. I’ll just let themknow it isn’t for sale yet. I wrap the paintings and get them ready to gobefore heading to the kitchen to make myself some dinner.
Abig dinner. The sick feeling has passed, and now I’m starving. My palm caressesmy stomach. “I hear you little one. How about a big, fat, frozen pizza?”
Somehowtalking to my unborn baby doesn’t feel as crazy as talking to my dog. I feel alittle lonely for the first time since Agnes left. I still talk to her often,and I’m happy she’s found someone. I couldn’t resist teasing her about shackingup when she told me she was moving to Florida with Amos.
Afterdinner, I only make it through a few minutes of television before my eyes startfalling shut. I swear, all I want to do is eat and sleep. Woody follows me tothe bedroom and curls up at my feet as usual. My last thought before I driftoff is Jeremy and what possessed him to fix my steps.
Theman is an enigma.
#
Iwake feeling energized and ready to get on with the day. After a shower, I takea moment to stare at my reflection in the mirror. My hands wander over my bellythat’s now beginning to curve out. Not so much that it would be noticeable tomost people, but enough to make my jeans slightly uncomfortable. Maybe I’ll goshopping for some maternity clothes after my meeting with the gallery.
Theweather has turned windy and raw, so I choose a warm sweater and comfortablepants. I pop the hatch on my car, stack the three paintings on the porch, andturn to lock the door. I’ve just put the first painting into the car when Iturn and slam into a warm chest.
Myheart rate triples, and I step back to see Jeremy frowning down at me. “I’llget them.”
“Youscared the tits off me! What are you doing, lurking out here?”
Hedoesn’t bother to answer until he’s loaded both of the other canvases into mycar.
