The Best Man Read online

  “The tree house is the reason?” Confused, I tilted my head to look at him.

  Andy had his head lowered to watch the ground as he pushed his toes into the dirt. The moonlight shone on his golden-blond hair and turned the tips silver. He pursed his lips and spun a little on the swing, clearing his throat as if he was nervous.

  “So...tell me about your hot dream.”

  “You’re stalling.” I frowned at my friend. “What’s going on?”

  Andy took a deep breath and looked up at me, straightening his glasses nervously before smiling. “I’ve asked Lily to marry me, Em.”

  The look on his face was open and happy. Yet, he seemed almost hesitant. It was like he was worried about having my approval.

  “Oh...Andy...”

  The tears immediately ran unhindered down my cheeks. Andy pulled a folded handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to me. Leave it to him to have something as old-fashioned and sweet as a hanky to offer. He silently gave me a moment to compose myself.

  “Well? What do you think?” he breathed. I smiled at him and returned his handkerchief.

  “I think it’s wonderful,” I replied truthfully. “I’m so...so...happy for you!”

  Andy held out his arms, and I moved to sit across his outstretched legs. I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him tightly while he used his feet to twist us back and forth.

  Andy had met Lily in one of his music courses. He wanted to be a music teacher. Lily had always dreamed of opening a school for the arts. They fell almost instantly in love, and as far as I was concerned, they were a match made in heaven.

  “I’m really glad you feel that way. I’m gonna need you on my side for this one. My parents hit the roof.”

  “They don’t approve?” I couldn’t imagine Joy or Larry not fully supporting anything Andy chose to do.

  “They just think we’re too young. But hell...it’s not like we’re running away and getting hitched right now. Lil wants at least a year engagement.” Andy stared past me into the darkened tree line ahead of him. “We’ll get married after we graduate. At the end of next summer.”

  “You couldn’t have told me any of this over the phone?”

  “And miss the waterworks? No way,” Andy chuckled. “Honestly? It just happened a couple of weeks ago. God, Em. I love her so damned much.”

  “I know!” I sniffed and smiled up at him. “Lily is perfect for you. She really is. But...”

  “But?”

  “It is kind of fast,” I said while shrugging.

  “When you know, you know.”

  “Are you scared?”

  “Shitless,” Andy replied honestly. “It’s part of the reason I needed you to be here with me. You’ve always been my best cheerleader.”

  “I retired my pom-poms a long time ago,” I told him, rolling my eyes. “But I have your back. You know that.”

  “Always.” Andy’s smile cut across his serious expression, and he patted my hip to get me to stand. He rose after me, and we both moved toward the tree house ladder. Old planks hung by rusty nails hammered into the tree. Andy broke a piece of the rotting wood with his hand and frowned. “I’m going to come out here tomorrow morning and see what I can do about fixing these. I’ll bet we could still sit up there if we had a way to climb up.”

  “I’ll help.” I smiled. “But you never did tell me what the tree house has to do with any of this.”

  “I figured it would be the perfect place to get started on my next great adventure.”

  “It will be the greatest one yet.” I grinned.

  “You’re telling me!”

  “We live for adventure,” I recited from memory. It was the credo we had painted in bright yellow letters on the inside of the tree house door.

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  First thing in the morning, Andy and I went to Daltons’ Diner for breakfast. Andy’s father, Larry, sat in a corner booth sharing conversation with a couple of hikers. He excused himself quickly when we came in and walked over to us.

  “Emmy!” Larry hugged me warmly, and I smiled into his soft button-down shirt. “It’s been too long, honey. How have you been?”

  “Great.” I smiled, pulling away from his warm embrace. “And after a few weeks, you’re going to be sick of me all over again.”

  “Never,” he laughed, shaking his head. “It’s going to be great to have everyone home.”

  “Is Jackson in yet?” Andy asked, cutting him off.

  “Nope. His shift starts in about thirty minutes. I’ve been covering the grill. There’s some sausage and eggs in the steam table I can get for you.”

  “We’ll get it ourselves, Larry,” I replied, grabbing Andy by the hand. “You go back to your own breakfast. We can manage.”

  Andy and I walked behind the counter while Larry returned to his space in the corner booth. The diner was as familiar to me as my own home. I ate most of my childhood meals under this comfortable roof, and I earned extra money after school and on weekends during my teen years working the cash register and waiting tables.

  “Here. Let’s get you fed,” I murmured, scooping a heaping mound of sunny yellow eggs onto Andy’s plate. He busied himself piling sausage links next to my offering.

  “You get some too. We’re going to have a busy day.”

  I did as he suggested, taking a much smaller portion of eggs and a biscuit that I grabbed from the sideboard. I followed Andy out to eat our breakfast sitting on two of the shiny red stools that were in front of the counter.

  “So. What’s the plan?” I asked, twisting my seat from side to side.

  “I was thinking we could start with a run at the beach.”

  I nodded and took a bite of my meal. We had taken up the exercise in high school, and I had tried to keep it part of my routine since. Moving to Florida had made me more aware of the importance of staying fit. Bikini tops and shorts weren’t nearly as forgiving as the bulky clothing I hid beneath when I lived at home. With effort, I was firm in the right places and soft where I should be. I wasn’t overly muscular, but I was toned. And I worked hard at it.

  “Sounds great.” I smiled. “Then what?”

  “Then we’ll swing by that home improvement place on the way back into town and get some things to fix up our tree house.”

  “You were serious about that?” I asked with my eyebrows raised.

  “Absolutely.” Andy nodded. “I’ll expect at least one camp-out up there before our break is over. Promise me.”

  “Okay,” I laughed. “I promise.”

  With my feet slapping against the hard-packed sand, I inhaled deep gulps of the salty air and smiled. The beaches in Florida were beautiful, but nothing could compare to the quiet dignity of the Northwest seaside. The world around us was ensconced in gray. It wasn’t a dreary or depressing half shade of color. It was clean and peaceful and refreshing. I could hear the quiet hum of music that escaped Andy’s earbuds as he ran beside me. I wondered what he might be listening to. He always turned me on to the coolest new music. I smiled. Music was always Andy’s thing. While his older brother had been athletic and in all sorts of after-school clubs, Andy preferred to stay home with his music. He had a talent I had never run across in another person. It seemed he could play damn near every instrument he put his hands on. He spent a great deal of time through our teen years writing and composing and playing music. Andy never dreamed of being a rock star or some brilliant songwriter. He did it because he loved it. And I was his biggest fan.

  That wasn’t to say Andy didn’t have many friends. His naturally goofy disposition and wide smile made him quite popular at school. Instead of being stuck in any status group or clique, Andy was friends with everybody.

  But nobody knew him like I did.

  The faint strains of his music floated in the air between us, and I smiled while my mind slipped away to another day on this very same beach.

  “Come on, Andy! Just play something I know,” I whined, lying back on the blan
ket.

  “Like what? That shit you listen to on MTV? No way.”

  “Hey. Watch your mouth, or I’ll tell Mom you’re cussing!” Samuel stood up from where he sat on the sand next to us and moodily dusted off the back of his pants. I watched as he walked down toward the water. Andy continued trying to pick out the chords of a Beatles song.

  Samuel had gotten his driver’s license that year and was grumpy because his parents forced him to drive the two of us to the beach. Andy loved strumming his guitar on the sand, while I loved doing just about anything if it meant I could spend time with Samuel.

  But that day, Andy’s older brother wasn’t being much fun.

  “Fine. While you figure out whatever it is that you’re doing—” I wiggled my fingers toward his guitar “—I’m going for a walk.”

  “Want company?”

  “Nah. You play. I’ll be back soon.”

  I trudged toward the tree line with Andy strumming softly behind me. I only had to hike through the surrounding forest a short distance before I crossed back out to another rocky beach. I followed a familiar path until I came upon a large rock formation where I climbed to sit, quietly watching a squadron of brown pelicans fishing in the water below me. It was almost hypnotic, watching the large birds bob and dive into the cresting waves. I relaxed there on the rock until a tiny crab scuttled near my ankle, startling me. Just as I felt myself begin to slip, I was also aware of the strong arms that circled my waist and kept me from tumbling headfirst into salty water.

  “Whoa there, Emelia.” I heard Samuel’s voice and felt his breath against the back of my neck. He had wrapped himself around me and tugged me to a safer position until I was practically sitting on his lap. “Sully is going to kill me if I bring you back hurt again.”

  “Don’t make fun of me,” I muttered. I was sensitive about my embarrassing lack of grace. Samuel had, unfortunately, been witness to too many of my falls and accidents. Samuel dropped his arms and leaned back.

  “I’m not. It’s not like you can help being a klutz. You have those long, skinny legs. You just kind of...stumble around, like a baby giraffe or something.”

  “Whatever.” I rolled my eyes. I hadn’t noticed that he’d followed me on my journey, but I was glad he had.

  “Come on.” He tilted his head back toward the forest. “Let’s get back to Andy. It’s getting late.” I quietly followed Samuel as he led the way through the woods. He probably guessed I was mad at him for calling me a giraffe, and he chose to stay silent for the remainder of our walk.

  Andy sat on the blanket, strumming his guitar and humming to himself just as he had been when I left. I moved to sit on one side of him, and Samuel sat on the other.

  “Got time for one more?” Andy asked Samuel. His older brother nodded and stared at the sea in front of us.

  “Nothing old,” I whined.

  “You don’t know good music,” Andy scolded.

  “I like the Beatles,” Samuel encouraged his brother. “Can you play ‘In My Life’?”

  Andy nodded and spent a couple minutes figuring out the chords and notes of the song Samuel suggested. I lay back and looked up at the heavy gray sky with my arms folded behind my head. As Andy began playing the song, I smiled. It was one I recognized. I’d heard his mother play it on the old record player in their living room.

  And then came a sound I did not recognize, a warm tenor voice starting to sing along to the quiet strumming. Samuel was singing while his brother played the guitar.

  I lay there quietly, not wanting to interrupt so perfect a moment. The two boys I loved most in the world were creating magic around us. I was certain I would always recall the sound of Samuel’s voice in the ocean wind, singing about remembering friends and lovers, and special places just like our stretch of beach. And in the sky above, I saw the exact color that dappled the edges of Andy’s stormy blue eyes.

  When the song was over, I looked over at Andy, and we grinned at one another. He turned his teasing voice to his brother.

  “Who knew you could sing?”

  “You’re the musical one in the family.” Samuel shrugged and looked down. He stabbed a stick into the sand between his bent knees, looking self-conscious.

  “I could teach you to play,” Andy offered, tipping the edge of his guitar toward Samuel.

  “Another day,” the older boy said. “It’s late, and I’m tired of babysitting. Let’s get you two back home so I can go hang out with my friends.”

  I reached out and tapped Andy’s arm, getting his attention when it was time to turn back the direction we had come. We were nearing the outcropping of rocks we used as a marker. He smiled over at me, and we kept our running pace back down the beach to the parking area where he had left his car.

  “Here,” Andy said, tossing me a clean T-shirt from a bag on the back seat. “You’re going to get my car all sweaty and gross.”

  “What’s the difference?” I asked while pulling his big shirt over my head to cover my tank top. “Your car already smells like ass and Cheetos.”

  “Fresh-Pine, ass and Cheetos,” he grumbled, flicking the green felt air freshener that hung from his rearview mirror with the back of his middle finger. We both laughed while it spun on its kelly-green string.

  In the large warehouse-like home improvement store, Andy and I split up. He went in search of two-by-fours to use for steps, and I went on a mission for paint and other items that would bring life to the old tree house.

  “Did you get the nails?” I asked when he finally joined me in the check-out line.

  “Yep.” He tossed a bag up from his hand and caught it again. “And guess who I ran into? Nick Smith. Remember him from school?”

  “I’m not sure.” I frowned, trying to imagine the face that went with the somewhat familiar-sounding name.

  “He told me there are a few guys around this summer who we went to school with. I’m going to meet up with them tonight for a couple beers.”

  “Well, that should be fun.” I nodded.

  “You wanna come with?”

  “Nah,” I replied, wrinkling my nose. “I think Dad will be home. I should try to spend some time with him before he starts his overnights. You go out. Have fun with the guys.”

  “Yeah. But the tree house gets work first.” Andy pursed his lips together in his best version of a no-nonsense face. I laughed.

  “Okay. Right. Let’s go.”

  Back at home, it didn’t take long for Andy to rip the old planks from the tree and replace them with the new sturdier wood and nails. I climbed up into the structure ahead of him.

  “Get a move on, Em,” Andy ordered, slapping my bottom with the palm of his hand.

  “Ow!” I yelled. “You’re going to make me fall. I don’t recall you slapping my ass like that when we were twelve.”

  “That’s because your butt was bony back then, and it would’ve bruised my hand.”

  I rolled my eyes and pulled myself up to the platform that served to hold our tree house. With a few tentative steps, I tested my weight on the boards and then gave Andy the signal it was safe for him to join me.

  A few rotten places needed to be replaced. Other than that, the general structure had stayed in very good shape. Andy and I repaired the soft places in the floor while discussing what to do about our credo on the door. It had faded so much, it was nearly unreadable. Having decided an update was in order, given present circumstances, we both agreed on a slight modification. At Andy’s direction, I left our old credo faded and painted over the top of it. When finished, the new version clearly stated, “Live for the next adventure.”

  “I love it.” Andy hugged me from behind.

  “I do too.” I smiled. “It’s like us...version 2.0.”

  We worked together to string some tiny lights around the perimeter of the ceiling, and we hooked them to a power cord that ran to the house. They would twinkle like fireflies in the dark. I couldn’t wait to see the place all lit up.

  “You know,” I sugg
ested teasingly, “you could always bring Lily here for your honeymoon. It’s a nice, romantic getaway...”

  “I need more room than this when I’m getting busy,” he laughed, looking down at the floor.

  “Oh! Ew!” I laughed and shoved his shoulders away while he grinned my favorite goofy smile in my direction and straightened his glasses.

  “Are we done for the night?”

  “I think so. I need to get ready to go meet the guys.”

  “See you tomorrow?”

  “You know it. I don’t think I’ll be home too late. We can run again in the morning, okay?”

  “See you then.” I said goodbye and ducked through the door of the new and improved above-ground hideout.

  I made dinner for Dad, and we watched a few innings of yet another Mariners game on television. When he began snoring during the postgame highlights show, I nudged his shoulder until he woke and sleepily made his way upstairs. With Dad off the couch, I flopped down on the still-warm cushions and flipped through the stations until I found a marathon of the Honeymooners. I watched five or six episodes, waiting for the black-and-white antics of Jackie Gleason to lull me to sleep. They had the reverse effect. If anything, I was more keyed up. And it was long after midnight.

  Feeling mischievous, I wondered if Andy was home from his night out with the boys.

  He said he wouldn’t be out late. I pulled on my tennis shoes and grabbed my black hoodie from its peg by the door. He woke me up the night before. Payback was in order.

  When I slipped quietly out my front door, I squinted into the gloom beyond the porch and let my eyes adjust to the darkness. A heavy fog had settled in, wet and thick in the air. I quickly twisted my hair into my hand and pushed it behind my head while drawing the hood of my jacket up around my face. It helped to stave off the chilly mist. Then I stepped into the yard and silently made my way around to the side of the house.