"Now you're just being belligerent. I don't need that attitude from you on top of everything else." She beamed up at the cashier. "I have the azalea and three mums, and I'd also like the dogwood back there. The big one. Can you deliver that this week?"
"Why am I even here?" I mumbled.
"Because it pleases me to spend time with you."
"Even when you're driving me crazy by overplanting your yard and meddling in my personal life?"
She nodded. "Especially then. Remember what I said, young man. Find a date for my party or I'll find one for you."
* * *
Instead of fulfillingtree warden responsibilities in Scituate, I went straight home after leaving the garden center. It was fine. The trees would manage without me for another day or two but I would not manage if I didn't talk to Jaspertoday.
Also, I had to get that conversation with my mother out of my head, and obsessing over someone taking a job on another continent and abandoning their wife worked wonders. I didn't understand how such a thing could occur or why anyone would stay in a hollowed-out marriage.
Then again, I'd spent the last week with my brain throbbing in my jeans because Jasper was in my shower and I wasn't there with her to experience any of it, and nothing outside the criminality of that made sense to me.
She baked biscuits every day now. They weren't awful. They served as a handy distraction when I arrived home every evening and wandered through the rooms as if I'd find a forgotten pair of panties waiting for me. The biscuits helped. Nothing like carbs to keep from barging next door, throwing your neighbor over your shoulder, taking her to your bed.
Yeah, the biscuits helped with that. The exterior was dry enough to require a full glass of milk to wash them down, and there was nothing like chugging milk at the kitchen sink to cool thoughts of mouthy women mouthing off at me in bed.
Mostly.
Enough that I didn't bang on her door.
What I did in the shower was another story.
And that was the reason I needed to know why her husband lived overseas and—apparently—had a fiancée there too. Those were only two of the reasons I hated the guy.
How anyone could just up and leave their wife was a mystery to me. And how could she accept that? She came at me hissing and spitting when I carried a couple of boxes for her. How could she tolerate a husband walking out of her life and still allow him use of that title?
Maybe it was an immigration status marriage. Or a health insurance marriage. Or something that wouldn't inspire outright loathing in me for the man.
Those were the questions on my mind as I turned down the dogleg bend of my street—and spotted a pair of fire trucks outside Jasper's house, lights flashing and firefighters streaming around her property.
"Jasper."
Once my heart got back to beating and I wheezed out a breath, I steered the truck to the side of the cul-de-sac, out of the way of the fire trucks.
There I was able to confirm that neither the house nor the yard was in flames, the firefighters were ambling in and out of the house without urgency, and the only concern seemed to be a charred box on the driveway.
As I exited the vehicle, I spotted Jasper sitting on the curb. She had her legs folded in front of her and her arms braced on her thighs. The red skirt she wore was wet and dirty, and her navy blue sweater wasn't in any better shape. Her head was bowed like she was praying or meditating but I doubted she did much of either. Didn't seem the type.
I dropped down beside her and stretched my legs out. "How's it going, Jas?"
She sniffled. I handed her a bandana from my back pocket and she accepted, saying, "We can't keep doing this."
"What'sthis?"
"You coming over here and handing me a hanky because I'm crying again. I have a reputation to uphold, and routinely needing a hanky or any other rescue isn't part of it. I'll have you know I once managed twelve hours with a broken finger before leaving the office to see a doctor and there was another time when I worked a full week while I had pneumonia."
"Those are not the badges of honor you think they are, but sure, I'll stop handing out the hankies. That's one way to fix a problem that doesn't exist."
"You're very rude," she said on a sob.
I glanced away as she blotted her eyes. "Sorry."
"You can ask," she said.
