“You know I am,” she said. “I’m a block away. Did you leave something in the car?”
“No,” he said. She sounded happy, not annoyed. A good sign. “Are both of your hands on the wheel?”
“I have you on speaker.”
“Good.” He had nothing to talk about. He merely didn’t want the evening to end. “You shouldn’t talk on the phone while driving.”
Bryony laughed. “Why are you calling, Cal?”
He was calling because, geographically challenged or not, he wanted to be as close to her as he could be. “Would you like to go on a non-date Saturday night?”
There was a pause before she answered. Had he pushed his luck too far?
“Any paperwork involved?” she asked.
Cal breathed out. “I can bring something to grade if it makes you happy.”
“Not necessary.” Her voice was warm, confident. “Yes, I will have dinner with you on Saturday night.”
“Pick you up at five?”
“I’ll be ready,” she said.
Heidi would give him a hard time, and he might regret this decision to follow his heart and not his head, but he couldn’t stop himself. Bryony was to his whole being, what the shoe insert was to his knee pain, what vitamin D was to his immune system, and what a low fat diet was to his cardiovascular system. She made everything feel better, function better. He would never write any of that on a Valentine’s Day card, but if he did, Bryony was the kind of woman who would understand.
Feeling pleased and hopeful, Cal showered and threw on a pair of socks, some old jogging shorts, and a tee under a thick, lined sweatshirt. He had just settled into his favorite reading spot when his phone announced a caller. Mitch.
“Seriously?”
Bailey raised his head, his ears perked, his eyes alert.
“Thanks for being here, buddy.” Cal rubbed Bailey’s head with his foot and poked the green button with his middle finger.
“Hey, Mitch. Looking forward to Friday night. You’re not backing out on me, are you?”
“What? No, are you?”
“Absolutely not. I’m stoked. Ready to wipe the floor with those other teams. They don’t stand a chance against us.” Cal raised his fist and pumped the air mouthing, “Woot woot!”
Bailey barked.
“I like your style, Forster, but I didn’t call about trivia. I called because it has come to my attention that in spite of my best efforts, you have not stayed away from my sister.”
Mitch’s tone was subdued, heartfelt, probably due to his interest in not losing Cal on Friday nights.
“You’re not hearing me, Cal. Bryony is special, not like other people. She’s easily hurt, and not able to deal with the world as it is, and she hung up on me tonight! She’s never acted like that before. The best thing you can do for her is leave her alone.”
Was Mitch Green even talking about the same person Cal had just spoken to less than an hour ago?
“Look, Mitch,” Cal said. “While I respect your concern for her, I think you don’t give her enough credit. I think Bryony can make her own decisions, but if it eases your mind at all, I want you to know that I have no intention of hurting her.”
Silence met his response.
Bailey remained on guard, ears up, eyes bright and searching Cal’s face.
Finally Mitch spoke, unable to keep the menace from his voice. “You’d better not, Forster. See you at school tomorrow.”
IS BRYONY ROOT-BOUND?
Saturday morning baking produced a perfect sugar cream pie. In the afternoon, Bryony carried it out to her car and drove to RestHaven. On the way into the building, a man in a Bengals shirt asked if she was delivering pies to everyone. He was one of the friskier residents. She smiled and kept walking.
Her father and Alma sat together in the alcove, reading the newspaper.
“It’s about time you came for a visit,” her father growled.
“I missed you, too, Daddy.” Their relationship had changed. His surliness held less bite.
“Nice to see you, honey,” Alma said. She wore a pink dress, the hem falling to right below her knees, white anklets, and bright white sneakers with big pink dots.
“Love your shoes,” Bryony said.
“Aren’t they fun?” Alma giggled. “My daughter loves to shop, and she knows how much I love polka dots. I’d take a pair in every color.”
“What do you have there in your hand?” her father asked.
Bryony held out the pie, uncovering the top as she extended her arm.
