Page 52 of The Lookback
So when a dark figure stands up in front of my porch swing, my heart nearly gives out. “Oh!” I swing my purse around like it’s some kind of baton and clock the dark man on his side as hard as I can.
“Mandy,” he says. “It’s me! Don’t shoot.”
Shoot? As if. . . It’s a familiar voice, though. “Tommy?”
I rummage around for my key and open the front door, and then I flip on the lights. Jed comes shooting out, grunting and sniffing and squealing.
“Whoa.” Tommy backs up a step. “What’s that thing?”
“It’s my pig,” I say. “Jed.”
He laughs then, and I see my dear friend in the old man in front of me. He has the same bright eyes, the same ready smile, and the same unruly hair. In the dark, I couldn’t quite connect the boy I knew so well with the man I haven’t seen in months. His once dark hair is nearly white, but it’s still thick and shiny. Where his eyes were once unlined, the skin framing them is now crinkled with age.
I saw him less than a year ago, and he looks about the same tonight as he did then, but it’s different somehow, seeing him here. Seeing him on my porch, the porch I stood on, waving, after he biked me back to my house. The swing we sometimes sat on, reviewing homework. The porch where I sat, dreaming about him for years and years and years.
By now, the boards in the deck have all been replaced. Actually, the hardware on the swing’s all new too. But it all looked just the same when he lived here. “This place hasn’t changed at all,” Tommy says. “But why do you live here? I figured you’d be down at Jed’s house.”
I frown. “Ethan Brooks owns that ranch now, and did you notice the signs for the retreat?” I can’t help my laugh. “We decided to make my family land into a resort, and the entrance for it is about fifty yards down the road. It has made the rest of my family’s propertyprettydifferent, and living close made those renovations much simpler.”
“Well, yes, I did hear about that, and I saw the signs. They somehow look both elegant and rustic at the same time.”
“That’s Amanda’s input.” I can’t help smiling with pride. “You can’t really stop change,” I say. “So I’ve been working on learning how to roll with it.”
“You look like you’ve been rolling well, Mrs. Brooks.”
“Saddler,” I say. “I never changed my name.”
“Why not?” He frowns.
Time to change the subject. “Why are you three days early?” I ask. “And why are you here, sitting in the dark?”
“I should have asked whether I could come earlier, I suppose,” he says. “And whether I could stay with you.”
I splutter.
“You stayed with me when you came out.” His voice is matter-of-fact.
“You had a guest wing,” I say. “It had its own entrance.”
He shrugs.
“I already have a guest,” I say. “My business partner just found out her house has bedbugs.” I pause so that horror can sink in. It should send him running. Any normal person would shudder in uncontrollable repulsion at the very least.
“And?”
I swallow. “She’s staying with me while they clean up her house.”
“Okay.” He frowns. “Do you only have one extra bedroom?”
“Well, no,” I say, “but?—”
“You’ve at least got to let me come in and use the restroom, right? I’ve been waiting for nearly an hour.”
I sigh in defeat and widen the door.
“After you.” He gestures for me to go in first.
I’m grumbling about faux chivalry as I walk through the door.
