Chapter Seven

Seven

Bailee closed her bedroom door and pulled out her phone. She’d call Austen, then make a note to herself to call the place that Mr. Says had recommended. She’d get the number out when she was finished with her call.

Austin answered on the third ring. “Bailee, hi. What’s up?”

She told him what she needed. “If you can’t come, it’s ok. I can call a plumber. Kylie just told me you were good at fixing leaks.”

He chuckled. “Well, I don’t know how good I am, but I can fix them. I can come over tomorrow, but I’m not sure what time.”

“Ok, great. Thanks so much! And just text me when you find out what time. Anything in the afternoon should be fine.” She said goodbye and hung up, then searched her purse for the number from Mr. Says before she forgot. Strangely, it wasn’t there. She dumped out all the contents, and still there was no paper. It was then that she remembered dropping her purse on the sidewalk. The number had probably fallen out, but it would be too hard to try to find it in the dark. She’d wait till morning and then look.

Come morning, Bailee looked for the scrap of paper with the number as she headed out for work, but still didn’t see it. It had probably blown away. She would call Gail after work and see if she could ask Mr. Says. She’d rather save as much money as possible, and if she could save a little on fixing her mirror, she’d rather. A penny saved, is a penny earned, Mr. Says would say. Of course, she could take Riley up on his offer to fix it for free. But then, she’d still be obligated to pay him, and she would much rather pay an automobile company than Riley. She got into her car and tried to start it. It stalled.

“Come on, Janie.” She tried again, and this time the Jeep puttered to life. “Thata girl.”

As she pulled out to the main road she rolled down her windows. Today was gorgeous with its beautiful blue sky without a cloud in sight. The weather was destined to near seventy degrees today, or so the weatherman said.

She reached work after about fifteen minutes of driving. She hopped out, pressed the lock button on her car remote—causing a high-pitched beep—and headed into the daycare.

“Hi there,” Mary-Lou welcomed brightly as Bailee walked through the automatic sliding doors.

“Hi, Mary-Lou,” Bailee raised a hand in greeting.

“Still not got your mirror fixed, huh?”

Bailee leaned an elbow on the front desk. “Planning on it today.”

Just then a woman with medium-length copper hair walked in with a little boy skipping beside her.

Bailee straightened. “Hi, Mrs. Walker.” She knelt down in front of the little boy with shaggy, sandy hair and sweet smile. “Hi, Mike. How are you today?”

Mike grinned, showing a missing front tooth. “Good, Miss Bailee.” He pointed at his tooth— or lack, thereof. “See my tooth? It’s gone!” He proudly smiled again.

Bailee smiled too. “I see it. Now it’ll grow back big and strong. Like mine!”

“I want man teeth!” Mike exclaimed.

Bailee chuckled and stood up. “You will, Mikey,” she promised.

Bailee took Mikey into a room where several other children already were, playing and having fun. She heard a loud scream; one made of hurt, not anger, and noticed little bully Sid trot off from one of the corners like nothing was wrong, leaving a little girl in pigtail braids sobbing. Bailee headed in that direction, having a feeling it was going to be one of those days.

That afternoon, when she was home from work, she waited for a text from Austin to hear when he’d be by. While she waited she called Gail Hatchet, who was able to locate Mr. Says, who was able to locate the number and give it to her again. She then arranged to take her car in so her mirror would be fixed, knowing she and Kylie would have to rearrange schedules and make car arrangements for a little while.

Her phone buzzed while she was reading a book. He’ll be there in ten minutes. The text said.  She frowned. He? Austin was coming, and Austin had sent the text. She shrugged, and replied, thanking him. She didn’t care if he sent someone else, as long as they were capable of fixing her sink—or Kylie’s, rather.

Approximately fifteen minutes later there was a brisk knock on the apartment door. Bailee rose from the couch and stretched, then answered the door. But, instead of seeing Austin’s lanky figure as she’d expected, Riley’s tall, broad form filled the doorway. What?? Anyone but him, Austin. Anyone but him. What is it with you guys ganging up on me? You’re not good matchmakers.

Bailee realized he’d been standing there for several seconds. She motioned him inside and shut the door, then asked, “Where’s Austin?”

Riley made a cursory glance around the apartment, his gaze finally settling on her. “Hi, it’s nice to see you too.” He smirked. “He ended up not being able to make it. Something with his mother came up.”

            Something had happened to their mother? And Amy hadn’t told her?

            “What happened?”

            Riley shrugged. “Don’t know. Austin didn’t say. Just said she needed him and Amy and it was important.”

            Bailee thought of Mrs. Burg, the spry four-feet, nine-inch woman who thought she could take on the world if she wanted. Mr. Burg was hardly around. Something to do with his job. She didn’t really know; she never even really saw Don Burg. She just knew that Cara Burg lived alone quite often in her little apartment in New York City.

            “Uh, Bailee?”

            “Oh, yes. Sorry.” She led him to the kitchen sink. “Here it is. I’m so glad you’ve come.”

            He looked at her with a little grin on his face.

            “Uh, I mean so you can fix the faucet,” she stammered, feeling the need to explain. Why would he pretend to read more into her statement than there was? Was there more to it? She shook herself. Of course there wasn’t, it was just this annoying man that made her second-guess herself.

            “I know.” Riley rolled up his sleeves, exposing tanned forearms, and took his time examining the faucet and pipes. Bailee soon forsook him, sitting back down on the couch to read with her feet tucked under her. It wasn’t long after that she felt his eyes on her. She looked up. There he was, crouched in front of the sink, with its cabinet doors propped open and things pulled out of it, studying her with something in his eyes that she couldn’t read.

            She snapped the book shut. “Do you need something? We don’t have many things in the way of tools, but…”

            “No.” He murmured. He looked at her for a second longer and then turned back to his work.

            Bailee opened the book and looked at the page, but didn’t read. What she wanted to do was move out of his line of sight, but that would mean retreating to one of the bedrooms. Besides, that would be too obvious, getting up and leaving like that. But it flustered her when every time she looked up she caught him gazing. She glanced up again, expecting to see him watching her, but he wasn’t. It gave her the chance to peruse him. He really was good-looking. He had a strong chin and a long nose. She couldn’t really see his eyes, but knew the color. The tan of his face made them stick out in stark reality. Dark eyebrows, dark hair that was the perfect length between too short and too long, slightly wa—

            He glanced over and she turned red, embarrassed to be the one caught looking when it hadn’t been her intention in the first place. She stood up abruptly, not missing the slight upturn of his mouth. He seemed pleased; as if he was happy he had caught her.

            “I think I’ll be back here if you need me.” She indicated her bedroom and then left him. It might have been the coward thing to do, but she couldn’t just sit there and pretend nothing was going on, when in truth, very much was passing through the air. As much as she wanted to deny it, she was attracted to him. And now that she knew, she wanted her feelings to just magically convert to how she wanted—no, needed—them to be. But they couldn’t.

Bailee exhaled hard and sat on the edge of her bed. The very last thing she wanted to do is let him know how she felt, since he already seemed set on winning her anyway. When he was finished with the sink she would set rules. She would tell him that she was never going to be interested in him, or anyone. She wouldn’t tell him why; that wasn’t his business to know. But they could be friends. Even good friends.

Bailee’s gaze settled on the picture on her nightstand of her with her mother and sisters. Mom, why aren’t you here? Why can’t you be here to give me advice? I really need it right now. I really need you, too. Pictures and memories aren’t enough.

She picked up the picture and kissed her mom’s face. “I love you, Mom.” Maybe it was silly, always touching and kissing the picture, but it was what Bailee had—all she had. She needed something. Mom had been gone for seven years—well, almost seven. So why didn’t she feel like the pain was lessening? Why, whenever she saw an image of her mother, was there deep, deep sorrow winding through the caverns of her heart? Whenever she thought of her mother, she thought of her father. That always brought on such a strong stave of hatred. Sometimes it scared her; this great ability to hate, to be bitter. The nightmares didn’t help either. All they brought was more fright and anger. Why couldn’t she remember her father for the loving man he used to be? Or that everyone said he was? Sometimes she thought she could picture loving, sparkling eyes and deep laughter. But she didn’t know if it was real. Maybe it was as imagined as the horrible red eyes in the nightmares. How could one person just change like that? Night and day difference? No one ever really talked about how Dad was before, at least not around Bailee. There’d been passing remarks like, “We used to love doing that before…” or, “I went there with Dad once before.” Bailee could only recall angry glares and scowls. Hangovers and headaches. Times when he was out cold and no matter what you did to him, he wouldn’t wake up. When Bailee was little she used to find Dad on the couch with one arm hanging off, and she’d sit there quietly, watching him, wondering what made him different from the other dads she saw. The ones of all her friends, who held their children’s hands, and sang and read to them, who told them they loved them and never hit them. She’d make up excuses at school about tripping over something and falling, or that she ran into something when she came in with a bruise on her cheek. She wasn’t sure her teacher always believed her, because sometimes she’d come in with them quite often. But back then she’d wanted to protect him. She’d wanted him to change. But he hadn’t. And he never would now.

A soft tap at her door made her jump. She rose and opened her bedroom door. Riley stood at the entrance.

“Sorry to bother you, Bailee, but your sink is fixed.”

Bailee shut her door behind her and Riley followed her out to the living room. “Thank you so much, Riley. What do I owe you?”

Riley seemed to contemplate it. “How about a date?”

And… there goes my speech. “Sorry, but no.”

“Bailee, I fixed your sink—”

“It’s actually Kylie’s sink.”
            “Ok, well she’s not here right now. And you’re the one who asked what you owe. Why not, Bailee? Why don’t you date?”

Bailee sighed and rubbed her forehead. “It’s complicated. I just don’t.”

“You’ve never gone out. Ever.” Riley crossed his arms and stared at her obstinately.

Bailee’s hand dropped. “Yes. Yes, ok? I’ve gone out.” Why did she let him fluster her?

“So why not with me?”

 “Because…” She glanced at him then looked away. Because I’m already too attracted to you. I can’t afford to lose control.

Before she knew what was happening, Riley was leaning down to kiss her, cradling her face in his hands. It was like an electric current, almost holding her captive with a strong pull to return his fervor, and yet, she couldn’t. It filled her with a horrible panic that welled in her chest, preventing breath from reaching her lungs. She gasped and pushed him away, stumbling away from him, bumping into the couch with her legs. “What… why did you do that?” She whispered, tears filling her eyes.

Riley rubbed the back of his neck agitatedly and slashed his fingers through his hair as his cheeks turned red. “I don’t know, Bailee. I’m sorry.” He turned away, then back at her. “Really, I’m sorry.”

Bailee looked away and swiped at a tear that threatened to break loose.

Riley leaned close. “Aw, Bailee, don’t cry. I’m sorry.” He gently reached to wipe a tear away but she held up her hands in a frantic motion of fending him off. “Do not touch me!” His face blurred before her in a cloud of tears, and she blinked rapidly.

“Bailee…” Riley held out a helpless hand.

Bailee swallowed hard. “See? That can’t happen, Riley. No, it cannot happen! Don’t you see?” She was looking him in his eyes now, hers pleading with his, ignoring the tears that trickled down her cheeks.

Riley studied her. When he spoke his voice was quiet. “I’m sorry I made you cry Bailee. Really I am. And I’m sorry that I kissed you. But… what now? You wanna just pretend that whatever happened a minute ago didn’t?” He jabbed a finger at her. “‘Cause you know as well as I that it did. You felt it too, I know you did.”

“No. I mean, yes. Yes, I felt it. But it can’t happen again. It’s important to me, Riley. Promise me it won’t happen again. Let’s just be friends. Only friends.” Her voice broke.

He didn’t agree. He just looked at her with an unreadable gaze, looked until she looked away.

“Please, Riley? Will you agree?”

He ran his fingers through his hair—causing it to stick up in interesting angles—and stepped away. “Fine. Whatever you say.”

She saw hurt and confusion in his eyes, along with a touch of empathy, but she couldn’t help but feel relief.

He collected his tools and headed to the door. Just before opening it, Bailee called to him, “Riley? You never told me what I owe you.”

He didn’t turn around. “I’ll fix your Jeep for you.” He opened the door and left.