The Best of Us (Sullivan's Crossing #4)(54)

“No strings?” he asked.

“Oh, there are lots of strings! I insist we be exclusive, I insist on honesty and respect, I demand kindness. So far you seem to deliver on those things without breaking a sweat. And I’ll do the same.”

“I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he said.

“I’m going to get home. I think I’m a little tired and maybe a little sensitive.” She gave him a quick kiss. “Good night.”

Leigh walked home, deep in thought. What is this? If I’m so wonderful, why isn’t he looking for ways we can be closer instead of looking for ways to keep us in place? Commitment phobia? Trying to make sure I’m not looking for a proposal? Even though she thought she might be falling in love with him, she was smart enough to know it was still too soon for anything like that!

There was just no mistaking a man who was feeling nervous that the woman he was dating was looking for more than he wanted to offer.

Unsurprisingly, she had a restless night. She got to the clinic early, feeling a little tired. She was glad to be the first one there ahead of staff and patients. Looking for a distraction she logged on her computer and scanned through emails. She found a message she never expected or wanted to receive. It was from JHolliday. She held her breath for a moment and then opened it.

Dear Leigh,
I don’t know what happened to the letters I wrote you over the years. The one time I called you, you hung up before I could talk. You probably threw the letters away. I just want to communicate. I made a lot of mistakes, starting with you. It was probably PTSD from the war that made me do something so stupid. It took me a few years to realize I had a lot of PTSD issues. I should never have let you get away. I thought of you every day since we broke up.
I’m single again and my mom tells me you’re still single. I’d just like to see you. Talk to you. I’m going to take some time off and come to Timberlake. That way you can’t throw away the letter, delete the email or hang up. Because I’ve never gotten you off my mind. I think I still love you.
Love,
Johnny
Timing had always been Johnny’s weak suit. He couldn’t have picked a worse day or time to pull his crap. Single again? As she recalled, whenever he was alone, he got in touch. That alone pissed her off. She had always ignored him. But Helen was in contact with Dottie Holliday and she would have made sure Dottie heard about how well Leigh was doing.

PTSD? That would explain a few things, though Johnny had not been stationed in a particularly dangerous place. He’d worked in supply on a big, well-protected base, and at the time they were Skyping and emailing, he always claimed to be incredibly bored.

The idea that this man, who wasn’t capable of a long-term commitment, thought he should come to see her was pathetic.

She answered his email.

Dear Johnny,
I’m sorry to hear you’re single again. I’m sorry to hear you discovered PTSD issues and that they caused you to make bad choices—I hope you’ve gotten help with that. But our relationship ended years ago. We went our separate ways and I’m not willing to take one step back. I wish you well. I’m in a relationship. Don’t come to Timberlake to see me. You’d be wasting your time.
Best,
Leigh
Then, for no reason she could identify, she started to cry. Leigh couldn’t remember the last time she cried. Oh, she cried when she read certain books, watched a sad movie or something, but she never cried for no reason. She was long over Johnny. If there were lingering feelings there, they bordered on anger not disappointment. In fact, she was more likely to fear those old feelings rather than be tempted by them. And yes, she was falling for Rob, but that was so irrelevant—she only wanted a man who wanted her as much as or more than she wanted him, a man ready for such feelings.

She was happy. She’d never been this happy. She had a good man in her life, rich intimacy, her only family here with her, a nice little practice, friends...

Still, she cried.

Helen returned after Memorial Day weekend. She had dinner with Sully at the Crossing just about every other night. Sometimes Leigh joined them. The June sun was staying up later each day but she still lit a candle on their porch table. The garden was beginning to offer up its bounty—the lettuces were coming in strong, the root vegetables were still small but delicious, the tomatoes were growing, but their best tomato harvest would come in July and August. Sully had a healthy asparagus bed that came in early. Rhubarb was up and Enid was making bread, cobbler and muffins for the store. They were a few weeks away from good-size zucchini and cucumbers and yellow squash, but even the early small ones were delicious. She looked forward to the end of the day when they would have a walk and talk, then she would go to the garden to harvest. Scallions, radishes, beets, leeks. Beans, eggplant and melons were yet to come.

“You enjoy that garden,” Sully said.

“It’s like having a produce stand in the yard.”

“And you never had a garden?” Sully asked.

“Oh, hell, Sully, I worked two jobs and was a single mother! I was a little panicked about Leigh’s college costs. First it was like pulling teeth to convince her she had to complete her education, then I couldn’t get her to stop.”

“How’d you afford all that college?”

“I saved ahead of her going, for one thing. Then there were loans, grants and scholarships for medical school. A few years ago we dispensed with the last of the loans. Between the two of us, we managed.” She laughed. “I’m a miser. You might as well know it.”