He knew it was because of Willow. This feeling of being turned upside down and inside out only happened when he spent time with her. Even when he’d enjoyed being with her, he always was left with a very unsettling feeling when it was all over and done with. He wondered if that was similar to how an addict felt. Did they get a sense of enjoyment while strung out on their destructive substance of choice, then experience a terrible letdown afterward? And, really, was he comparing his friend Willow to cocaine? If she was like cocaine, shouldn’t he be keeping a safe distance from her?
Thinking about such things only made him more confused. So George got out of his chair and, instead of mowing the lawn or putting his wet laundry into the dryer, like he knew he should do, he walked to town. He went into the hardware store and, after looking about for a bit, purchased a hammock. One of those ropey ones that looked as if someone had tied hundreds of knots.
“Are you certain this is sturdy enough to safely hold me?” he asked the sales clerk as she rang it up. She was a hefty woman, so he thought she should know.
She just laughed, assuring him it was sturdy enough to hold a much heavier person. “Or even two people.” She gave what looked like a flirty wink.
George paid her in cash, then, with his hammock under one arm, marched triumphantly toward home. He’d never owned a hammock before. Never even been in one that he could remember. But for some reason, the idea of being retired with time to relax and unwind ... well, it seemed to suggest that a hammock might very well be a necessity. Now if he could just figure out how to safely hang the contraption. And hopefully in a spot where Lorna Atwood wouldn’t be able to gape over the fence at him.
As George turned down his street, he wondered ... Was he lonely? Certainly, he spent plenty of time alone. He’d be spending even more time alone now that he was no longer a teacher. But spending time in solitude didn’t necessarily mean he was lonely. Had Ralph Waldo Emerson been lonely? Or had he simply embraced a lack of companionship as a sign of true independence? Perhaps George would lie in his new hammock and read one of his old Emerson books. He could just imagine himself like that. A man ofleisure reading up on philosophy. Now wouldn’t that be something!
However, as soon as George got inside his house, he felt compelled to finish his laundry. He’d never let it sit in the washing machine this long before. As usual, he removed the laundry items one at a time, giving each piece a firm shake before placing it in the dryer. These appliances were thirty years old, but according to the repair man who serviced them from time to time, the new models—thanks to all their electronic gizmos—were not nearly as dependable or as easily fixed as these old ones.
With the laundry situation under control, George went out to the backyard to scope out a good place to hang his hammock. The options were decidedly limited. And no spot promised the privacy he’d hoped for. He was just measuring the distance between a pear and apple tree when he noticed that his lawnmower was still sitting by the back porch, ready to go.
Naturally, even though the grass wasn’t very long, George felt compelled to mow and rake the yard. And then it was time for his final load of laundry—sheets and towels. By the end of the day, his new hammock, still encased in its plastic, remained where he’d set it on his back porch. Perhaps he would hang it tomorrow.
Despite Josie’s claim that she did not want to remain in Warner, by the end of the day, she was still here. And even though the stress level was higher than ever, Willow was actually somewhat relieved. She knew Josie was a powder keg. But she also knew that Josie needed help. Now if she could only get Collin to understand.
“All I know is that I can’t stand to be around her,” Collin told Willow as the two of them had a quiet dinner out on the terrace. Fortunately, Josie had declined Willow’s invitation to join them, claiming she wanted to be alone right now. After spending the last few hours in Willow’s apartment pacing angrily about—raging about her selfish boyfriend and this “stinking small town” and her horrible life and even the hot, humid weather—Josie looked like she’d worn herself out. But before she stormed off to her apartment like a wounded victim, she loaded herself up with leftovers from last night’s party. There were no worries she would go hungry.
But at least Josie was still here ... and still talking. For some reason that gave Willow hope. It had been a relief to dine alone with Collin—except that his nose was seriously out of joint. “I don’t see why she’s still here,” he said sullenly as they finished up their meal.
“I understand your feelings,” Willow said quietly. “I’ll admit that Josie isn’t easy to be around. And I don’t expect you to spend too much time with her. All I want is for you to remain somewhat neutral. It won’t do any good to engage with her. Not right now anyway. She’s too hotheaded for a civilized conversation.”
“It’s hard to remain neutral when someone attacks you.”
“I know.” Willow cringed to remember how nasty Josie had been to Collin when he’d popped in to talk to Willow this afternoon. She’d treated him more like a brother than a son. As if they had a sibling rivalry going on. Naturally, Collin had been hurt. “I’m sorry she’s being so difficult.”
“Even Mr. Emerson got fed up with her.” Collin brightened. “Wasn’t that awesome how he stood up to her last night?”
“It was certainly surprising.”
“Maybe she needs people to stand up to her,” Collin suggested. “Maybe she’s run roughshod over everyone all these years, and now it’s time for her to get hers. I’ll bet that’s why Garth left. He couldn’t take it anymore.”
“You could be right about that. And it’s possible she needs people to stand up to her like you’re saying. I’m just warning you to go easy for now. But you’re smart, I’m sure you’ll figure out the best way to interact with her.”
“Meaning she’s going to be here awhile?” He frowned.
“I don’t know for sure. But she doesn’t really have anyplace else to go. No one else who will take her in.”
“But she acts like she hates us. And she says she hates this town. What good is it for her to stay in Warner?”
“I honestly don’t know. All I know is that she needs to be loved—unconditionally.”
“Well, don’t expectmeto love her.” Collin set his glass of iced tea down with a bang. “I hate her.”
“I know. You’ve already told me that. I’m just asking you to be patient.”
“Right now, all I want is to avoid her. That reminds me of something. You know how you wanted me to work at the gallery this summer?” he asked. “I’ve been rethinking that.”
“Why?”
“For one thing, if Josie’s living here, I want to keep a distance from her. But besides that, Mr. Emerson mentioned something last night. I told him I wanted to work this summer, and he said there’s a HELPWANTEDsign in the bookstore. I thought maybe I’d go apply for a job there. You know how much I love books. I think I’d fit in better there than in the gallery. Besides, I really don’t know much about art.”
“You know a lot about art, Collin. You grew up with it all around you. Besides my art, I took you to all the galleries in the Bay Area and—”
“I know. That’s not what I mean, Nana. The truth is I’m not that interested in art. No offense. I mean I like your art. But art in general, well, it’s just not that important to me. Not like books and literature.”
