And now, on impulse, she’d come home with Rocky. She should have resisted, though the man didn’t look much like he was going to take no for an answer. She shouldn’t have accepted that first date when, deep down, she knew something was wrong, and she sure shouldn’t have kissed him and stirred all those feelings... Nice feelings... But still, feelings she had no right to pursue with so much else going haywire in her mind and body.
She rushed from the lemon-scented kitchen to gather her things from her cozy borrowed bedroom. The worn-out copy paper box that served as a piece of luggage ripped further down the side when she moved it. She headed back to the kitchen and found the pantry and washer/dryer alcove before hitting on the garage. Perhaps there was a box or a handle bag...
It was best she leave and deal with her own mess as soon as she had her car.
Before she could hurt Rocky more.
****
Rocky popped in the house to the sound of opening and closing doors.
“Gia?”
There was a tiny gasp and then she skidded into the foyer from the kitchen. “You scared me. I didn’t hear you.”
“You OK? I heard banging.”
“Sorry. I was looking for the garage. I’ve been to your pantry and your laundry nook and found the—”
“Please don’t go in the garage.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to overstep. I was looking to borrow a box.”
“It’s not that.
Mi casa es su casa
. But that garage is dangerous.”
She took some of the plastic shopping bags off his lap and headed for the kitchen table. “Yeah, I’ve seen your dining room.”
“Hey, that’s my office. That’s where the magic happens.” He followed her and started to unload bags. “The garage is a different story. Too many things out there you could trip over.”
“Message loud and clear. Is there anything else in the car?”
“No, that’s it. I have lunch from the grocery store deli.”
“You didn’t have to do that—”
“You need to eat.” He opened a box of fried chicken and a container of macaroni and cheese. “Grab us some paper plates, will you?”
She went straight for the cabinets above the counter and flung open two doors. They were empty, of course, but she stood there a second anyway looking adorably embarrassed in her animal print pajama bottoms and long-sleeved college tee.
“Well, duh. I guess everything’s on the bottom where you can reach.”
“Yep. But now you know what to do if you ever want to keep a private stash of cookies from me.”
He’d never seen her blush quite like that.
She took a deep breath as she found the plates and picked through the silverware drawer for a couple forks. She dropped them on the table and reached for the long-handled grabber he had hooked on the inside of the pantry door. “I’ve been seeing these things all over the place,” she said and clacked the holders together. “I doubt anyone could hide anything from you.”
“My mom’s responsible for those. They do come in handy if I drop something. Trouble is the grabber is never where I need it despite my mother’s attempt to leave them all over the house.”
He scooped mac and cheese onto her plate until she raised her hand to stop him. She seemed tired and more distant than yesterday. Had she slept? Called anyone? He was trying to give her space and it was harder than waiting for Christmas morning.
A mass of messy hair tumbled off her shoulder as she scooted her chair to the table and tucked one leg under her. She remained quiet.
“Are you feeling better?”
She took a napkin from the square container on the table and swiped cheese sauce from her lips. “I think so. The trauma is wearing off, but that means reality is setting in. On the bright side, there’s no more dizziness.”
“Good.”
“My appetite is coming back. It must be. This mac and cheese tastes great.”
“Also good. Have some chicken. And I’ll get you a cold bottle of water from the fridge.”
She touched his arm. “Rocky, stop. I’m fine. You don’t need to cater to me.”
“What can I say? My mother raised a well-mannered Texas boy and a southern gentleman. I am merely operating under the basic rules of chivalry and southern hospitality.”
“Well, you need to stop. Do what you normally do. I can take care of myself, and hopefully I’ll be out of your way soon.”
Rocky paused with his hand over a chicken leg. He didn’t want her to be out of his way. “What’s wrong, Gia? Has something else happened?”
“No, uh, do you mind if I get my laptop? There’s a job opening in Houston, and I’m not familiar with the area. Maybe you know where it is.”
“Sure. I’m usually working on two or three laptops at the table while I eat.”
“Two or three? The only thing I see more of than laptops around here are foam footballs. No wonder you need all the grabbers. There are probably lost balls behind every piece of furniture you own.”
“That’s me. Combination dumb jock and computer nerd.”
She touched his shoulder as she brushed past. “I don’t know about that. I’ve not seen you work on one computer, but I do have a giant bear at camp that proves you can hit something with some kind of ball.”
She returned with the computer and grabbed a chicken wing as she powered it up. “I updated my resume and registered on several job sites.” She tapped impatiently and fidgeted in her chair as her programs opened. “This thing is so slow. And it shouldn’t be because it’s not that old.”
“Let me see something.” Rocky nudged the corner until he could see the screen. “When was the last time you ran a virus scan or cleaned up your hard drive?”
She put down her chicken. “It’s been a while.” She flicked a piece of lint off her top. “Plus I think my virus protection may have expired.”
“Look here at the bottom,” he said and pointed. “Those icons and message bubbles are there for a reason. You have updates and maintenance you need to do.”
“Yes, I know. I haven’t had time.”
“Just sayin’. Ignoring those messages is like ignoring the ‘check engine’ light in your car. It’s not good.”
She shot him an icy glare. “This is because of my subtle ‘dumb jock’ comment earlier, isn’t it?”
“No. It’s because I don’t want you to fry your computer. I’ll clean it up for you later.”
“That would be great. If there’s time.” She went back to wildly striking keys.
Fear coiled like a snake in his gut. What did she mean if there’s time?
“Here it is,” she said and tilted the screen. “Where is this?”
“I think that’s way out in west Houston.” He pulled out his phone and punched in the address. “Yep. Far west Houston. It’s a nice area,” he choked. “Pretty far from here.”
“There’s this one in Travis County, too.”
“Travis County. That’s Austin, right?”
“Yes. It’s with the state. With Child Protective Services.”
He knew she needed work and fast. She’d have to take what she could get and restore some sort of order to her life. Somehow he’d hoped that would be in his neighborhood. “Austin is nice.” And a bazillion miles away.
She pushed the lid closed. “Oh, who am I kidding? I don’t have enough education or experience for what I really want to do, and no one’s going to give me benefits anyway, so I may as well suit up for the Burger Buster and wait for my ankles to swell. Do you have a box or don’t you?”
“Whoa, wait a minute. I don’t know what’s wrong with your ankles, but you will find a job.” He pushed his plate aside and re-opened her computer. “C’mon, you have more education and experience than a lot of people. And God is still in control, remember? Keep sending stuff out. Something will stick.”
“I’ve made thirty inquiries.”
“Good start. It’ll happen.”
Once he had his hands on her computer, it was all he could do to keep from launching search and rescue sequences on behalf of her hard drive. He glanced at a couple of her error messages and let the information slide by. Nearly killed him. “Look. Here’s one.”
She didn’t answer. He tore his eyes from the screen to find her staring at him, her brows all furrowed as if studying a creature in the wild.
“What is it? Do I have food on my face or something?”
“No. You really are a motivational person aren’t you?”
“No, Gia, we’ve been through this. That motivational thing at camp does not come naturally to me. I’m sure I’m failing miserably. They just haven’t bothered to fire me yet.”
“No, you have a knack for the positive. I see it in kids all the time. They are perpetually optimistic creatures. Not adults. Adults tend to go ‘glass half empty’ as soon as real life tosses a few curves.”
He gave up on the search and took another piece of chicken. “I’m sure you’re a gifted psychology person-whatever, but please don’t try to demystify my brain. I’m tellin’ you, you won’t find much.”
“I don’t play mind tricks on my friends. I’m only saying I appreciate your ability to see things in a positive light. I couldn’t have gotten through these last few days without you.”
“You’re going to be fine, Gia.”
“See? It’s like you can’t help yourself. You jump in there with the encouragement even though you know how insurmountable some of this is.”
“It’s not insurmountable. It’s only overwhelming.”
Her face went blank. “Wow... You’re good.”
“If you’re going to make fun of me, I’m not going to clean up your cesspool of a computer.”
“I’m not making fun.” A slight smile teased at the corners of her mouth as she took her plate to the trash. “I’m envious of your upbeat attitude.” She paused at the kitchen window above the sink and looked out. Her hand brushed across her stomach. “I mean, I know there’s a miracle in this whole mess somewhere, but it all seems so jumbled up and hopeless that I can’t find it yet. I can’t yet connect my mind with what’s happening to my body.”
He could see the panic rising in her eyes. He wanted to approach, wanted to hold her, longed to comfort her.
He didn’t move. “You’re doing fine, Gia.”
She waved her hands in front of her face as if chasing away sudden heat. “Let’s talk about something else.” She returned to her chair. “Back to you for a minute. It doesn’t take a psychologist to know your positive attitude is probably a result of your injury and subsequent struggles.”
He reached for her computer again and started closing windows so he could explore the system. “I guess so. I’ve been living this way for a while now, so I don’t much think about it.”
“But you have such strength. You must get that from your past experiences.”
“I’m not a saint, Gia. I’ve had some bad days. And up until I accepted Christ, there were a lot more bad days, but yes, I guess I draw from what happened after my injury. What choice did I have?”
His words seemed to have put her off balance though she was clearly in control of the conversation. He’d dealt with his stuff so long ago and settled into his daily groove, it was hard to remember a day when he wasn’t living his new normal. She, however, was struggling to find a way out, around, or over a difficult situation—and he was so busy trying to take care of her, he missed how she was desperately trying to take care of herself.
He sat back in his chair, balled up his napkin, and tossed it onto his plate. “When I was first injured, I did all those textbook things you do in that situation. Shock, denial, anger—you know the drill. But then there’s that day. It’s that day you decide how you’re gonna let it all play out. And I had two choices. I could either curl up and die, or I could tackle one obstacle at a time and live. I decided I’m more of a tackler than a curler.”
She flicked the corner of the napkin basket until a rhythmic clicking sound filled the kitchen. He covered her hand with his to stop the nervous movement.
“Well, I’m certainly not a curler,” she said. “But my tackling skills are horrendous.”
“How so?”
“I don’t make much of a strategic plan for the best possible return on my tackle. I tend to tackle first and ask questions later. You’d think I’d have better control over my impulsive nature after battling it for so long. But yet, here I am.”
“It wasn’t your impulsive nature that made you a crime victim. That’s not on you.”
“Of course it is!”
Panic was evident in her voice again. It seemed to creep up and zap her every once in a while and set her off. She grabbed his plate, sprang from her chair and made a return trip to the trash.
She leaned against the counter. “It’s always on me, Rocky. You don’t know me. I put myself in situations without thinking. That guy would have never had the chance if I’d been making better choices in the first place. My father is right about me. I find trouble everywhere I go. I’ve made so many wrong turns that even when I decide to make right turns, the wrong ones come around to bite me every time. I. Can’t. Win.”
He had no experience with an upset woman in his kitchen. Basic survival instinct prevailed on him to duck and cover—or at least wait it out.
She smashed the lid onto the mac and cheese container and flapped the chicken box closed. She practically threw them into the refrigerator. After a quick swipe with the cleaning wipe she found under the sink, she returned to her chair.
“Did you say you had a box?”
“I can probably find you a box. But I have a question for you.”
“Yes?”
“I was wondering if you’d like to go to Wednesday night church with me tonight—”
“I can’t go, Rocky. I don’t know how long I’ll be in this area and I’d rather not see anyone.”
“I understand. I also need to ask you about tomorrow.”
“What about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow is my day to go to camp. I thought you might want to go with me? Maybe talk to the directors or pick up your mail... Or have you talked to them already?”
“I haven’t talked to them. I don’t know where to start.”
“I’d say start with the truth. I’m sure they’re worried about you. You don’t have to tell everyone everything, but you’ll have to tell someone something.”
“I know. Rebekah and some of the others have been blowing up my phone every time they can sneak away or have phone time. I really need to tell Paramedic Ash about the drugs. He was very concerned about me and I know he’s wondering.” She went back to picking at the napkin basket. “I’m not going to mention the pregnancy to anyone yet. I haven’t been to that kind of doctor or know if I’m OK.”