Digging In: A Novel(60)

“Stop,” I said.

“What?”

“Pull over. Please!”

I knew it was simple panic, but my chest tightened from fear, the muscles bunching to protect my heart. I couldn’t catch my breath.

Sean swerved into a parking spot. “What is it?”

“I’m—” I focused on breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

“You’re what? You can tell me, if you want to.” His voice was gentle.

“It’s just that . . . I’m afraid.”

Sean nodded, settling back in his seat. “Yeah. That’s probably normal, though, right?”

“I guess.”

“Let me ask you. Are you afraid of me, or of something else?”

“I’m not afraid of you at all. I just thought about all of the places we could go in downtown Willow Falls, and nearly every one of them has memories attached.”

“Good memories?”

“Yes.”

Sean thought for a moment. I just sat there, breathing.

He finally said, “If we’re going to date, we can go to other suburbs if we need to, no problem. We could drive an hour away if you need to, but I’m not quite sure that’s the solution to this problem.”

“I think that sounds like a good solution.”

“Part of me thinks I don’t have a right to tell you how to grieve, but the other part of me is gonna tell you anyway.”

“Go ahead and say it.”

“Tonight, I think you should pick a restaurant that has good memories. It doesn’t have to be one that was very special to you two, but one that has memories you can deal with. Pick out one of those good memories, and tell me about it. I didn’t know Jesse. Maybe it’s about time I did.”

“I don’t know.” I really didn’t. Would it hurt too much? Would it hurt too little? I didn’t know which one was worse. I would have no problem telling stories about how wonderful Jesse was, even to this man.

“I’m not looking to replace him,” I said. “He was irreplaceable. I hope that doesn’t make you feel weird.”

“Not at all. People can’t be replaced. Anyone with half a brain knows that.” He took my hand, lacing his fingers with mine. “Especially someone who caught your heart. He had to have been pretty special.”

“He was.”

My awareness returned, and I realized we were parked on the main strip, right outside one of our favorite Italian restaurants. We’d celebrated Jesse’s promotion there, and Trey’s eighth-grade graduation. Big Frank spent his last minutes there, spooning ravioli on everyone’s plate and chomping on his cigar.

“Let’s eat here.”

Sean got out of the car and dashed around to open my door. I took his arm, and we walked into Marinetti’s Chop House. “This one time,” I began, “Jesse mistakenly ordered the squid-ink pasta . . .”



When Sean pulled up to my house, it was dark save for the front porch light. I was used to a dark house—the past two years had me coming home to one more often than not—but in the stillness of late summer, it looked particularly lonely, like an old photograph.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” Sean said.

I paused. Dinner had gone well, but there were stages here, stages I’d long forgotten. And there were choices. Did I go with propriety, or did I chuck the rules into my new compost bin?

Into the bin they went. “Do you want to come in for a cup of coffee?”

He smiled to himself, a satisfied grin that told me he’d hoped I’d ask but didn’t expect it.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’d like that.”

He got out of the car in a hurry so he could dash over to my side to open the passenger door. He’s nice, I thought. And thoughtful. This is okay.

We walked to my front door, and I thought about how many times I’d done that while married, taking for granted that I would always have Jesse with me or waiting on the other side of the door, a presence I realized I had taken for granted.

I glanced at the man next to me. He was shorter than my husband, sunrise-colored hair instead of Jesse’s dark, rich brown, broad instead of thin, rougher around the edges . . . different. But different was good. Different was necessary. I felt drawn to this man. He was not my husband, and that was fine. He was Sean, and I liked Sean. The rules could disintegrate under a pile of old eggshells.

“Do you think you’ll kiss me tonight?” I asked, my voice loud enough for a nosy neighbor to hear.

He laughed. “Would you like that?”

“Yes.”

“I was hoping you might kiss me.”

“You like a woman who takes charge?” I was flirting. Oh, God, I was flirting.

“I like a woman who knows her own mind.”

Sean stopped at the bottom of my porch. He didn’t reach for me, just smiled. A dare.

I took a breath. Stepped forward.

He still didn’t move.

“Are you going to give me a little something here?” I asked, nerves getting the better of me. “Meet me halfway?”

He grinned. “Nope.”

“Fine.” I stood directly in front of him. I curled one hand over his shoulder to steady myself.

“That’s a good start,” he said.