I smiled at her, thinking up my next lie before Luke said, "Honey, I know you're tired, but want to help me grab the bags and bring them upstairs?"
Mrs. Hanley told us on our way out that our room was upstairs, the second on the right. What were the odds that I would be sleeping in my old bedroom?
Outside, Luke removed the bags from the car and leaned up against the trunk with his arms crossed. He waited for me to tell him what was going on, but I didn't feel like talking.
"Are you ok?" he finally asked me. "You look a little ill."
"Yes. No. I mean, yes I'm fine, and no I'm not sick."
"Are you going to tell me the truth now? You looked like you were drowning inside. I had to save you and give you mouth to mouth before that woman swallowed you whole. Who is she?"
"I don't want to lie to you. But I don't want to talk about it right now."
I grabbed my suitcase and wheeled it up the steps. Before we entered, he placed his hand on my shoulder and then opened the door. A fake smile spread across my face, and Mr. Hanley gave me a warm welcome.
Other visitors checked-in, and together Luke and I climbed the stairs. Although downstairs was unrecognizable, the layout of the top floor had barely changed. Only updated light fixtures, paint, and a new wooden floor made it different.
Every inch of my room had changed. The window was larger, the floor new, and a chandelier hung from the tall ceiling. An antique wrought iron bed sat against the long wall, and had a homemade quilt draped across it. My bathroom had been updated as well. Bright Tejas tiles lined the stand-up shower and little State of Texas decorations lined the walls, sink, and even the toilet cover. The Hanley's did an amazing job. Impressive to say the least. If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine that I was somewhere else.
Luke dropped the suitcases on the floor and plopped down on the bed. He lifted himself up on one elbow and motioned for me to come to him, I did.
Opening his arms, I crawled into them, and we lay together. Nothing sexual, nothing out of bounds, just a simple gesture that I desperately needed. I wanted to feel safe, and he made me feel that way.
"I'm not sure what's going on with you right now. But I want you to know that I'm here for you, okay?"
I wrapped my arm around his stomach and scooted as close as I could to him.
"So I'm your boyfriend for the weekend?"
I looked into his eyes. "Yep. Just wait until tonight, when we go into to town."
"You called it town," he said. "That's so cute."
Sprinkles hit the window, causing us both to stir. Riding on the plane, and on my emotional roller coaster, seemed to have worn us both out, but it didn't stop us from taking showers and going out on the town. I laughed at the thought.
Luke wore a teal polo and a pair of vintage cut jeans. He smiled at me when I stepped out in a black, high-waist button-up dress and a red belt. Two-inch high heels, I wasn't trying to get crazy.
"You're ready? Already?"
"I'm not high maintenance."
He led me down the stairs. The boards that used to creak no longer did. Every imperfection in the house had been fixed. I never thought it would look so well preserved. We smiled at the other guests in the living room area and were out the door.
Crickets and cicadas buzzed in a harmonic symphony of sounds. They usually did that after a light rain. Luke opened the car door for me, and I shut it before climbing in, and adjusted the collar on his polo. Then I gently wrapped my arms around his neck and thanked him. His arms fit around my waist, and he lifted me slightly from the ground. Once he set me down, I leaned in and whispered in his ear, "I appreciate the gesture to drive, but really, let me."
The keys found their way to my palm. I slid into the driver's side and zoomed down the driveway, again. Watching the house fade away to nothingness reminded me of the day I left for Vegas. But the house, along with myself, had transformed into something I didn't know. If it could talk, I imagined it would say it didn't recognize me either, but changing was inevitable.
Living in an oil town meant there were several restaurants open all hours of the night. Although there was nothing high-class like in Vegas, I had the perfect place. Tuscany: where there were unlimited pastabilities.
The setting, cute and old-fashioned, would be perfect. We parked on the side of the street and walked inside. The bell above the door let everyone know we entered. Little candles decorated the checkered table clothes, and for that moment as I studied Luke perusing the menu, I thought that he possibly could fit in, in a place like this, my home. Where expensive cars, corporate offices, and Elite members-only clubs didn't exist. Only the two of us mattered here while enjoying one another's company with no interruptions or worries.
"Thank you," I said over the menu that I wasn't really looking at because I practically had it memorized.
"For?"
"Planning this. None of the things back in Vegas really matter while we're here. You know? It feels different."
Luke grabbed my hands and a girl I went to high school with took our order. I ordered my favorite spaghetti and meatballs and Luke had the same and ordered a bottle of Bruno's Cranberry Wine.
"How did you know that cranberry was my favorite?"
"Lucky guess, I suppose."
Minutes passed, and the waitress arrived with a bottle and no cork, and poured the wine into the empty glasses.
"Oh, hey, Jennifer. What have you been up to? Heard you were engaged and living in Vegas."
Typical small town rumors laced with typical small town talk.
"Oh, hey." I couldn't remember her name; how embarrassing. "I've been up to nothing, just working. And no, I'm not engaged."
Better to squash the rumor while I had a chance. The girl looked at Luke, and I knew what this meant, she expected an introduction.
"This is Luketon Brand, my boyfriend."
She took his hand willingly. "Oh a pleasure, Mr. Brand. I'm Julie Jean."
"Call me Luke, please."
She giggled nervously. "Where are you from, Luke? Not here, obviously."
I gritted my teeth. This was how rumors exploded into the abyss. The chatty women only need a little bit of information and the stories would spread like wildfire.
"I'm from a little town in the U.K. close to London."
"Oohhh. Well, welcome to Texas, honey."
She didn't take her eyes from Luke, and I didn't blame her. He looked good. The teal polo shirt accentuated his crystal blue eyes. Any woman around here would be insane to not go for a beautiful, single man like him.
"Well, if you and Jennifer ever break up, you call me, darlin'."
I placed my hand close to my mouth and whispered "I'm sorry." He gave a nod toward me and sipped his wine as she walked away.
"How embarrassing," I said.
He played along. "I may ring her if she leaves her number."
"Hardy har har. Just your type, Luke."
He leaned across the table and asked, "What is my type?"
"I'd like to think I'm your type," I whispered.
Luke bit his bottom lip. That drove me wild.
"I'd like to think you are as well," he said.
He smiled and sipped his wine. Not having anything else to do, I sipped mine as well.
"I love the way the cranberry tastes. It's like a tingle, and then an explosion in your mouth. I love that freakin' winery."
Once the spaghetti arrived, I grabbed my utensils and ate it the way I learned in etiquette training. Spinning the noodles on the spoon until they were completely twisted around the fork, and then taking small bites as not to splash the sauce on my face. Also, I didn't finish my meal, not because "a lady never finishes her plate," but rather, the hometown portions were much larger than I had remembered.