AN: All of your kind words are very appreciated. I'm glad that you're enjoying the story. Let me know what you think. I'd love to chat. I'm on Tumblr and Twitter, same name.
Chapter 11
"Hey, Joan, I have a question for you." Elizabeth spoke quickly. She leaned against the edge of her desk and coiled the plastic cord around her right index finger until the tip of that finger throbbed from the blood trapped there beneath the skin.
"What's going on?" Joan asked tentatively. It was unlike Elizabeth to call unsolicited and even less likely to engage in a conversation, and on a Saturday night. Joan couldn't keep her heart from racing. She sensed something bad had happened.
"Are you still paying Henry to babysit me?" Elizabeth asked.
Joan made a noise in the back of her throat. "I never paid Henry to babysit you, although I may give him a call. You sound like you may need supervision."
Elizabeth huffed, "Alright, let me rephrase the question. Are you still paying Henry to make sure I arrive at my classes safely? Why is he doing that?"
"No."
"No what?" Elizabeth asked.
Joan sighed. "No to your first question. I actually never gave Henry money, if we are splitting hairs. One time last semester I made a payment to the bursar at school in exchange for his assurance that you made it to class throughout the first semester. I attempted to procure his services for the second semester and he turned me down. Evidently, he just wants to spend time with you." She calmed a bit now that she knew it was nothing serious. "You must not give him nearly as much grief as you give me."
"So he's just been doing it for nothing?" Elizabeth said quietly.
Joan hummed her amusement. "I don't think he's doing it for nothing." Then Joan added, "Lizzie's got a beau."
Elizabeth grunted. "Lizzie does NOT have a beau."
"But you could. If you would be open to it," Joan offered, not even bothering to hide her hopefulness.
Elizabeth frowned. "Yeah, so thanks for the info. Bye." She placed the receiver back in the cradle carefully and she sighed.
But you could…
I could… but what if the unthinkable happens?
And what if it doesn't?
Elizabeth buried her face in her hands. Why is this so hard? She readied herself for bed and climbed under the covers. Instinctively, she reached under her pillow and pulled the picture of her family out, hugging it to her chest. What would you do? She silently asked her parents. Elizabeth drifted off thinking about how she'd been happier today than she had been for so long, and she couldn't deny that there was a part of her that desperately wanted to keep feeling that way.
When Elizabeth stepped out onto the porch of the dorm on Monday morning, Henry jumped to his feet startling her. "What in the world, Henry? You scared the bejeezus out of me."
Henry laughed, "Sorry. I may have been a little anxious this morning. I'm hoping that I get to add an appointment to my calendar."
"Oh really? What appointment is that?" Elizabeth asked, struggling to keep her expression neutral.
"'Date with a hot girl.' I was hoping for Friday night, but I can make anything work if she says yes." Henry nudged Elizabeth with his shoulder.
"I hope that works out for you," she said and she laughed.
It was the first time he'd ever heard her really laugh and the sound made his heart swell. They stepped off the porch and he stared at her. "So?"
Elizabeth looked up at him. "So?" she asked.
Henry groaned. "Will you go on a date with me? You know you are exasperating, right?"
She turned her head back to the ground and spoke softly. "I'm not a hot girl, but I will go on a date with you."
"Oh Elizabeth, you are most certainly a hot girl." Henry caught her hand in his and brought it up to his lips, kissing the back of it.
Elizabeth's heart skipped a beat and she felt the flutter in her belly. She lost count of her steps, and she was surprised that she wasn't worried about it. She realized that she knew Henry would make sure she got where she needed to go.
— ∞ —
Elizabeth couldn't help but feel a little downhearted when Henry invited her to the movies for their first date. Given her experience with Jimmy, that really meant he just wanted to make out. But she smiled and agreed, giving it a chance.
In the parking lot outside of the movie theater, Henry got the door for her and waited for her to get out, then he grabbed a sweater that was laying on the seat and draped it over her shoulders. He squeezed them saying, "It is usually cold in the theater. You won't enjoy the film if you're freezing." Then he followed with, "Looks like 25 or so steps once we get past the back of the car parked next to us." Henry placed his hand on her back and guided her past the car and then let her go. "It's a straight shot."
"Two tickets for Princess Bride," he said. Elizabeth listened to the chatter of the throng of people leaving through the doors on their left and the whir and grinding of gears in the ticket machine as it produced their tickets.
"There you go," came the muffled reply from behind the window and Henry murmured his thanks.
He caught her elbow and leaned close whispering, "We're going right. Let me open the door." She stepped through and the scent of popcorn that had been lingering outside was overwhelming and her mouth began to water.
"How do you feel about popcorn?" he asked.
Elizabeth gave him a wide grin. "I love popcorn." And she was surprised because Jimmy would never have purchased concessions when he'd already bought her ticket.
Elizabeth held the box of popcorn and Henry took the drinks. Elizabeth felt bad when Henry had to shuffle things around to hand the man their tickets. "I could've held my drink," she said and they walked down the long hallway to the theater on the far end.
"I wasn't thinking about it. Next time I'll give you the tickets to keep track of. Here, it's on the left." Henry grabbed the door and they stepped inside. Henry slid into the back row and let Elizabeth sit on the outside. He set her cup into the holder that was molded into the arm of the seat.
Then the movie started. Henry tried to concentrate on the movie, but his focus kept moving back to Elizabeth. She looked tense. Maybe the movie was a bad idea. Is she not enjoying it or maybe she's not enjoying me.
Elizabeth was wound tight, expecting that at any moment Henry would turn, his hand sliding up her thigh then beneath the hem of her shirt. She waited and it never came and with each minute that passed, she became more anxious about it.
Finally, she couldn't stand it anymore and reached over the arm of the chair and caught his wrist. She traced her fingers down and linked them with his. She squeezed them and waited.
Henry was pulled from his thoughts by her touch. As she intertwined the fingers together, he turned to fully look at her. Her head was tipped down as though she was watching their hands, waiting, expecting something to happen.
He wasn't sure what she was thinking, but he hoped to put her at ease. He raised her hand and placed his lips on the soft skin on the back and then lowered it back to his leg and enveloped it with the other one. She looked like she held her breath for a moment and then visibly relaxed.
Henry did too.
The weather had turned cold on their second date and Henry fixed chicken noodle soup and invited her over. He was surprised when she came out of the dorm with a box under her arm.
He met her halfway and looped his arm around hers, pulling her in close against the chill of the wind. "What do you have there?" he asked.
"I thought that maybe we could play Scrabble," she replied softly. "I used to play a lot. Joan got it for me for my birthday and I haven't played it yet. But, if you don't want to, that's fine." He shut the truck door and moved to get into the driver's seat.
He was about to answer when he saw Elizabeth's expression. Her look was pensive, as though she didn't want to do anything that would be off putting. He had trouble understanding how with some things, Elizabeth was beyond confident, and then in others, she was the exact opposite. "Of course I want to play. And I'll have you know that I'm pretty good. I won't go easy on you."
All of the nervousness and anxiety melted away and she smiled. "That's what they all say, and then I beat them."
Elizabeth moaned into her soup and complimented Henry on what a good cook he was. He noticed that several times she was talking and then quieted before changing the subject. She still rarely talked about her family. Anything he learned came from offhanded comments, small facts that Henry stored away and occasionally tried to piece together.
They sat down on either side of the coffee table in the living room and set up the board. Henry studied it intently. The board was the same, only with a grid overlay on top, so that the tiles, once placed, didn't slide around. He had to say that was an improvement on the game overall because it was inevitable that someone in his family would bump the board and send the tiles sliding and they would need to spend ten minutes fixing them, but they never would because he was the only one invested in the game.
The tiles themselves were plastic instead of wood and had the letter itself raised, then the Braille letter beside it. Henry thought the whole concept was fascinating. They chose their tiles and set about playing and Henry was soundly beaten quite quickly. He jokingly complained about Elizabeth getting better letters. She challenged him to a rematch, which dissolved into a fit of giggles over a word of questionable origin.
She leaned into him, still laughing, and his breath was taken away. Elizabeth was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen and his chest tightened at the thought of leaning down to kiss her. But, she moved away and the moment was lost.
Their third date wasn't even really anything that should be classified as a date, yet Elizabeth considered it as such because it was a day spent with Henry.
She had sunglasses on when she exited her dorm that Monday morning in late March. He knew immediately that she had been crying by the crimson color of her nose and that every few feet, she still took a stuttered breath.
Henry asked, of course he asked, but Elizabeth brushed the query aside and mumbled something about allergies. Henry sighed. He thought about addressing it, but he didn't want to upset her before class, so he just took her hand and they walked silently instead.
Elizabeth was confused by her own behavior. She rarely cried on the anniversary of her parents' deaths. Probably not since that first year, if she had to really think about it, but that was exactly what she tried not to do. If she refused to think about it, if she refused to think about them, then she could focus on other things. She could use her energy for things like her classes and physically getting around from one place to another and counting her steps.
Slowly, Henry had changed that. As they did more together, she found herself thinking about the past more often. It almost always started with something Henry said or did, like with the riding lesson. Then she'd find herself traveling backward in time. And the more time she spent with Henry, the more frequently it happened.
Now, it was 4 years ago that her parents died and suddenly the pain felt as raw as it did when it happened. Henry didn't press when she avoided the question. He rarely pressed her on anything. He just held her hand and walked beside her.
She struggled to pay attention in class and was exhausted by the time she walked out. Normally, they would have coffee on Mondays, but he didn't suggest that. He led her to the library, downstairs to their spot. Without speaking, he peeled her coat back off her shoulders and tossed it in one of the chairs. Then he slid his own coat off and threw it with hers. He laced their hands together and he whispered, "Sit with me." He pulled her over to the empty chair and before she could protest, she was sitting on his lap. He wrapped his arms around her and tucked her close to his body.
"Henry I don't…" she started, her voice already starting to crack.
"I know something is troubling you and you don't have to tell me what it is. We can just sit here and I can be here for you."
Somehow, it was the permission she needed. She shifted her body closer to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She breathed in his scent and the tears started to fall. The more she tried to keep them in, the harder they fell, soaking Henry's shirt. And still he held her. He didn't ask questions, he didn't make her feel guilty, he didn't want more from her than she felt like she could give. The only thing that softened the anguish was Henry's presence.
It was a long time, but finally she pulled back and Henry quickly leaned over and unzipped his backpack and grabbed some tissues. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Then she started to speak. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice raspy.
Henry laid his cheek against her shoulder and shook his head. "Don't be."
"My parents died four years ago today, and I don't know what my problem is. Usually I handle it pretty well, but I keep remembering them and I try not to because if I remember, it hurts. It hurts so much." Tears filled her eyes once again.
"Of course it does." Henry rested his hand on her leg and waited for her to continue. It had crossed his mind that her parents were dead, but he'd sort of dismissed it as something that either Elizabeth or Joan would've shared before now. But then again, they were both very closed-mouthed where Elizabeth was concerned.
"Are you really going to miss much today?" he asked. "Why don't you just skip the rest of the day? I'll take you back to my place and I'll make you pancakes and popcorn and you can take a nap this afternoon while I teach, because I'm betting you didn't sleep well last night.
"Not really. But, I shouldn't miss class though," she started to argue.
"How much are you really going to get out of class today? You're distracted. Reach out to your professors tomorrow and see if you can get the notes. Tell them you weren't feeling well. I'm sure it won't be a problem. You're a conscientious student."
Elizabeth still seemed unsure, so Henry pushed her up and then followed himself. He grabbed her coat. "I know that you don't believe in taking care of yourself, so I'm pulling the boyfriend card. You're coming to my place and you're going to let me pamper you. Come on."
She opened her mouth and then closed it again and then smiled, her tears still pooling in her eyes. "Boyfriend?"
Henry froze. He thought back to what he'd said and sure enough, "boyfriend" had come spilling out.
He moved to stand toe to toe with her. "Perhaps the term boyfriend was a little presumptuous, but the sentiment stands." He folded her into a warm embrace. "Let's go."
Once back at the apartment, he insisted that she exchange her jeans and sweater for a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. She pulled the afghan off the back of the couch and wrapped it around herself as she leaned against the counter while he cooked.
"I don't want to be the person that everyone needs to take care of," she said.
Henry looked up from the skillet. Why would she think that? All I really want to do is take care of her. "That's what you do when you love someone."
Her head whipped around to face Henry. "You love me?"
"Well, you know what I mean. I don't know that I'd call it love love, but I like you and I care about you and I want you close to me. Maybe it is love, or a kind of love." Henry scrambled to put into words what he was thinking. He did love her, at least he thought so, but was he in love with her? Perhaps that was on the horizon, but thinking that and saying it were two different things.
"Pancakes are ready." He handed her the plate, changing the subject. "Milk or apple juice or water?"
"Milk, please." She moved to the table and sat down. Henry appeared at her side with the butter, syrup and a glass of milk.
They ate quietly. Henry watched Elizabeth, who seemed to be deep in her own thoughts. She finally spoke. "When you lose someone that you love, it makes it hard to willingly open yourself to the possibility of that kind of hurt again."
"Yeah," Henry said with a sigh.
After they ate, he tucked her into his bed after making her promise that she would try to sleep and he would be back in just over an hour. He let himself out of the apartment, locking the door behind him and headed to class, his mind swirling with concerns about Elizabeth and how he really felt about her.
Elizabeth was snuggled into Henry's bed and she was struck by how unsettled she once was at his scent floating on the breeze. Now she was surrounded by it and she felt comforted. Each day she fell a little more for Henry McCord. Mom, I wish you were here so I could talk to you about this.
Henry left immediately after class and headed back to the apartment. Slipping inside, he was happy to find that everything was quiet. He stuck his head into the bedroom and Elizabeth was curled up on her side, sleeping peacefully.
He had an intrinsic need to be close to her. He quickly changed out of his jeans and button-down into shorts and a t-shirt and slid into the bed next to her. He couldn't believe it when she immediately backed into him, pressing her back to his chest and pulled his arm around her. He relaxed and fell asleep with Elizabeth cradled in his arms.
Elizabeth used to dream of her family all of the time. Then one day she stopped. Her sleep was void of any dreams. She went to sleep. There was nothing. She woke up. There was nothing. She looked at it as a blessing. She wasn't held hostage by the should'ves that plagued her when her parents first passed.
Now, she dreamed. She dreamed of her parents and of Will and Joan. She dreamed of Henry. Of the two of them walking hand in hand, their skin wrinkled, no longer carrying the signs of youth. It was nice. It felt comfortable and warm. She began to wake. He was wrapped around her like a cocoon, enveloping her, keeping her safe. She wondered how long she'd been asleep and how long he'd been there, pressed against her. As much as she wanted to just give into the cozy, protected feeling, there was a barrier—something that held her back. The pressure in her chest caused her physical pain. It seemed as though every hurt was a pebble, individually they were small, but with each new hurt and each passing day, they stacked themselves tightly together. Now there was a wall that was impenetrable. It was the wall that guarded her heart.
She stretched out against Henry and he stirred. Elizabeth ecstracated herself from beneath him and mumbled, "I need to use the bathroom." She wasn't familiar with Henry's bedroom and had to feel her way along the bed and to the doorway. Skimming her fingertips along the wall, she felt for the bathroom door. Stepping inside, Elizabeth closed it behind her and leaned against it. She was conflicted and she hated feeling this way. She liked Henry and he hadn't been shy about saying that he liked her, but opening herself up to that seemed dangerous. She sighed and used the toilet. She returned to the bedroom and changed back into her own clothes. When Elizabeth emerged, she could tell that Henry was moving around in the kitchen. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, around the back of the couch, 3 steps, 9, 10. She learned against the wooden door frame. "What are you doing?"
Henry was startled by her voice. He looked up at her. He couldn't put his finger on why, but Elizabeth seemed different. He had been putting his breakfast dishes away to make room for the lunch dishes he was about to do, but he turned off the water and picked up the dish towel, drying his hands along the way. "I was thinking about dinner. Are you hungry?" As he neared Elizabeth, she seemed to tense and even though she didn't move physically, it seemed as though suddenly there was a great distance between them. That's the difference. She's closed herself off again.
"No, not really," she replied, and on cue, her stomach rumbled a low growl, betraying her. Immediately, her hand flew to her stomach as if covering it would somehow make Henry unable to hear the noises.
He chuckled lightly. "It sounds like it. How about I make us a peanut butter sandwich?"
"I think I've taken up enough of your time. Thank you for being so kind, but I should really get back." She pushed away from the wood to stand up straight. "Really," she added for emphasis.
Henry tried not to take any offense. He had learned enough about her today, that he could piece together some of what she was thinking. She needed time. Time to get used to the idea. Time to fall for him that way he had her.
"Can I make a sandwich that you can take with you?" he offered.
She shook her head, "No really. I'm alright, but thanks."
Henry pulled up in front of the dorm and before he was completely stopped, Elizabeth was reaching for the door handle, ready to make her escape. "Wait," he said. She stopped, but didn't turn back toward him. "I want to know that you'll be okay."
"I'll be fine," she whispered,and she slipped out of the truck, counting her steps to the door.