Bet on It (3)

“Well, do you need anything?” She pulled out Ms. May’s chair and motioned for her to sit. “You need me to get your bingo packs and daubers?”

Ms. May twisted so her back was to Aja, her head looking towards the entrance. Aja had no idea what she was searching for.

“No, honey, Wally’s bringin’ them. He’s here takin’ care of me for a little while so he’s goin’ to play my packs for me until I get these things off.”

Aja was glad Ms. May was facing away so the surprised look on her face went unnoticed. Wally was her grandson, the one who made her expression turn slightly crestfallen on the odd times she brought him up. Aja didn’t know much about Wally. Only that he lived in Charleston, wrote for a newspaper, loved baseball, and never, ever visited. She had never met a “Wally” her age before, and she had a hard time picturing him because of it. Had his name been Chase or Tyler or Jaden, she would have had a clear image. Even if that image was completely wrong. In her head, Wally was the spitting image of his grandmother. Even down to the dyed red hair. Just younger, and maybe a little taller.

“Oh!” Ms. May turned and gasped like she was surprised to see him even though she knew he was there. “That’s him comin’ over now.”

Wally was the exact opposite of the blurry outline of a man she’d pictured in her head. Instead of red hair, his was dirty blond and a little wavy, falling somewhere below his ears but above his jawline. He was tall and broad shouldered and had a plump bottom lip that was close to making his clean-shaven face appear pouty. For a few seconds, the only thing that ran through her head was how unexpectedly fine Wally was.

Then she noticed his neck. The collar of his long-sleeved raglan shirt left the expanse of it exposed and there, right against his peachy skin, was a large, red birthmark. Had she never seen him before, it would have been barely a blip on her radar. Now, it was nothing less than a glaring reminder. Physical proof she hadn’t imagined the person who’d seen her in a dark, panicked state at the Piggly Wiggly. Verification that she’d been so out of it she hadn’t even managed to move the image of his face into her long-term memory.

He seemed to float over to them like something straight out of a movie. There was nothing on his face that looked remotely like recognition when his eyes grazed over Aja, but she wished she could disappear into thin air anyway. As a general rule, she preferred to know someone a little longer before she had a panic attack in front of them. That way there was already an established repartee when it inevitably came time for her to downplay the moment and pretend it was no big deal.

“You want these right here, Gram?” His voice was the same—deep and measured—as he gestured to the table in front of Ms. May’s seat with an eight-pack of bingo sheets and a pink dauber in hand.

Ms. May nodded. “I’ll show you how I want the sheets set up in a minute. But first”—she made a show of turning her entire body in her seat until she was facing Aja with a giant, wolfish grin—“Wally, this is Aja. She’s my bingo buddy. Aja, this is Wally, my grandbaby who never comes to see me.”

Aja looked up to see Wally redden and grit his teeth before he schooled his features into a kind, if insincere, smile. “It’s Walker, actually. Walker Abbott.”

She mulled the name over in her head.

Walker.

Walker Abbott.

It was a nice name. It fit him. And the way he said it—so succinctly and with a sharpness that acted in direct contrast to the slow stickiness of his drawl—piqued her interest. There was something almost defiant in the words, like he was daring her to say something slick.

He thrust his hand out and she resisted the urge to grimace. She hated handshakes. It wasn’t the touching that bothered her so much as the fear that her grip wasn’t sure enough. That a seconds-long clasping of hands would be so inadequate that the other person would sense how weak she was.

“I’m Aja.” She cleared her throat, trying to make her voice sound less broken. “Owens.”

Walker had blue eyes. She’d never been much interested in blue eyes. Any eye color was fine, of course. But she maintained that there was something extra special about brown eyes. She found them rich and beautiful and romantic. Easier to fall into than a heated pool. It was possible her feelings towards the color were an internalization of being fed the idea her entire life that brown eyes were somehow less beautiful, but she stood by her views nonetheless. Walker’s eyes weren’t clear and bright; they were a murky blue, a little cloudy and hard to fully put a name to. As they raked over her, she bit the inside of her bottom lip to keep it from dropping open. It wasn’t until his gaze met hers again that she finally saw recognition hit him.

Her tongue grew heavy in her mouth and the heels of her feet dug into the linoleum floor. Her breath caught as she waited for him to acknowledge what they’d shared. To embarrass her so thoroughly that this innocuous Wednesday became seared into her memory for years to come. But it didn’t happen. As quickly as the recognition appeared, it was gone. In its place was another small smile, this one a little more honest.

“Nice to meet you,” he murmured. “You here by yourself, or…?”

He looked behind her like he was searching for the grandparent she was supposed to be accompanying. Her mouth popped open slightly in surprise.

“Aja is the youngest bingo player here by almost twenty years,” Ms. May butted in, looking oddly proud.