Seven Years Since The Motel Ch. 05

There's another dream in the middle of this chapter. I swear there won't be another after this chapter, but I had to give Maisie her share of flashback time. ;)

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Maisie slid the last of the empty produce crates into the back of the pickup truck. She huffed out a long breath as she closed her eyes and wiped her brow on her sleeve. She was exhausted; the summer sun was bright and hot, and her long day had been full of chores on the farm and customers at the Wednesday farmers' market. For what felt like the hundredth time this week, she found herself daydreaming about a soak in her mother's clawfoot tub.

"Boo!" a voice whispered in her ear.

Maisie shrieked as she spun around. "Oh, for goodness sake, Alessandro!" She smacked his chest as she clutched at her own, gasping for air. "You nearly gave me a heart attack. That's the second time today!"

"Sorry, Maisie." He looked as if he were trying to appear contrite, but his quirking lips gave him away. "I just couldn't resist. Remember how I used to creep up behind you in the orchard and scare the shit out of you when we played hide-and-seek as kids?"

She took a few deep breaths, glaring as he bit his lip to stop from laughing. "It's good to know you've grown up since then, Less."

His expression faltered. "I have, Maisie. You know that, right?"

"Um, yeah." She pushed a lock of hair that had fallen from her ponytail out of her face. "I was just teasing, you know?"

"Oh. Right. Of course."

Alessandro smiled, but the gesture didn't match the rest of his face; his lips were pressed together, and his eyes seemed devoid of emotion. Maisie shifted, uncomfortable her words had elicited his forced appearance.

He'd followed the same pattern for the past couple of days, bouncing between friendliness and a brooding sullenness. It unnerved her. He'd always been introspective, but his childhood bouts with a quiet or monosyllabic presence had never left her feeling like she'd done something wrong.

"So, um, have a good day with your family? Are your sisters behaving themselves?"

Alessandro blinked a few times, and Maisie was relieved to see his smile return to normal. "Today's been . . . enlightening, so I guess that means it's been a good day." He winked as he grabbed the sole crate of unsold produce on the table and placed it in the truck. "I take it you had a good day?"

"Yeah, pretty good. I sold everything except for a couple bags of spinach, a few bunches of radishes, and some green garlic. Actually, we did better than we usually do at the Wednesday market." She furrowed her brow. "But why are you here? Your mom stopped by earlier this afternoon and bought a ton of stuff for some dinner party you're having tonight."

"We need more," he said as they began to break down the folding table that'd held the farm's products. "I don't know the details, but apparently my grandmother forgot to mention that she invited some friends down from Camden for supper. Any chance I can snag the radishes and some green garlic? I think my mom wants to roast them. And can I bum a ride home? Carolina and Gemma dropped me off, but they had a bunch of other errands to do in town."

"Sure. Is that all you need? Just radishes and garlic?"

"A couple heads of lettuce for a bigger salad." He looked around the marketplace at the closing stalls. "Anyone here have any left, you think?"

Maisie didn't bother to look before answering. "Doubtful. Lettuce tends to go fast around here. You can have some of the heads that are in the ground at home, though."

"You sure?" He turned back to look at her, concern evident on his face. "I don't want to take away from your Saturday sales."

"We have plenty. We've been pretty lucky with pests so far this year; I think it's all the dry, hot weather we've been having."

"OK, thanks." He glanced at the chalkboard list of prices she'd placed in the truck alongside the folded table. "Do you have change for a twenty?"

Maisie lifted an eyebrow. "Nice try, but you aren't paying."

"Oh, yes I am."

Maisie crossed her arms in front of her as Alessandro pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet.

"No, you're not. You've been picking every day with me, and sneaking off without taking any berries." Alessandro opened his mouth to protest, but she pressed on. "Besides, I'm pretty sure your mother conveniently forgot to take her change with her earlier today when we were busy."

Maisie'd hoped her reasoning would satisfy him, but wasn't surprised to see that he remained unconvinced. They stood facing each other, Maisie with her arms crossed and her chin raised, and Alessandro with his jaw set and the bill crisp in his outstretched hand.

She hissed in frustration when, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the few farmers still left in the market were watching their standoff with unveiled interest. With her luck there'd soon be a small crowd around them, ready to witness their verbal shootout and eager to retell the tale at the local bars later in the evening.

"Fine. How about this: you don't pay for the produce, but you help me this Friday afternoon in the orchard. I've been tasked with clearing away the vines climbing the back fence; it's a crappy job, and the less of it I have to do, the better. Sound like a deal?"

"Deal," he murmured, folding the bill in his wallet before returning it to his back pocket.

Maisie's smile faltered as she watched his lips curve into a lazy smile. "Great. Ready to go?"

She tried to sound enthusiastic, but what had seemed like a good idea just moments ago—getting help and company for an annoying chore, and finding a way out of their standoff—now seemed like another of her terrible ideas. Something about his smile made her feel uneasy. She could've been imagining things, but his smile had seemed somehow predatory. She felt as if she'd fallen into some sort of trap he'd set.

She gave her head a mental shake; Alessandro had never been one for plans. She was overanalyzing.

They climbed into the old pickup and pulled out of the market, sitting in silence as she navigated the narrow, twisted streets towards the town's busy four-way stop. Alessandro slouched against the truck's bench seat, legs spread in a relaxed pose with one arm draped on the open window as he watched the passing shops and tourists.

Maisie grimaced as they joined the long line of cars at the stop sign waiting to get out of the harbor. Given her own angst, his apparent contentment annoyed her; she needed to break the silence.

"So . . . any awkward autograph requests yet?"

He laughed as he turned to face her. "Thankfully, only a few. There've been a number of gawking stares, but most have been from tourists, not townies."

"That's good, I guess."

The oppressive silence covered them again as he smiled but didn't answer.

"So . . . you're happy you came back to visit?"

"Yeah."

He turned back to the window as they inched forward. Maisie tried to think of another topic, but was spared the effort when he spoke again.

"I like it here. I mean, don't get me wrong; I'm not ready to kick it in and move back to rural Maine just yet, you know? But I can see myself living here in ten years or so. By then, I hope to have reached the point where I can easily flit in and out of work without ruining my career, so that I don't have to scramble all the time."

"Oh." Her stomach unclenched as she realized they'd found a topic that might sustain the conversation all the way home. "Is that possible?"

He turned to her, a surprised expression on his face. "Yeah, of course it's possible. I mean, I'd like to be able to pick and choose my roles. You know, be an actor's actor." He tilted his head, and she felt as if he were examining her. "Could you see yourself living here, even only part time? Don't you think this is a nice place to raise kids?"

Her stomach clenched again. She gripped the steering wheel, trying to push the tension his words had caused out through her fingertips and into the truck. It didn't work.

"I guess?" She forced a smile, hoping he wouldn't notice the strain in her expression. "You want to be my neighbor forever, Less?"

He shrugged and turned back to the window. "Just wondering."

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, trying to rein her emotions in.

For one insane moment, she'd thought he was talking about where they'd live together, about children they'd have together. But no, he was asking a simple question one childhood friend would ask another when they found themselves together in their hometown, with nothing of substance to talk about as they crawled through summer traffic.

She knew he was just a friend, but every so often she thought he was asking about more. She wished she could put up a wall to keep such ridiculous thoughts from entering her mind.

She pulled into the farm's drive, hopped out of the truck, and headed towards the lettuce field, berating her overactive imagination even as she bent to cut a couple of heads from the ground.

You were a one-night stand. All he wants from you—if he wants anything at all—is a fling, something to tide him over while he's here.

That, after all, had been what she'd concluded after Monday; he'd hit on her in the field and then kissed her on the dock to see if she wanted a quick fling. She'd pushed him away, so he'd settled on friendship.

It was the logical conclusion, but it'd been a struggle to have normal conversations with him since then. She was confused; she didn't know what she wanted from him—friendship or a relationship—but it didn't matter. She had friendship from him now; she didn't want to risk it on a fling like she had all those years ago, and even if he wanted a relationship—a big if—it would probably never work.

It was best for both of them if she focused on friendship and forgot about the prospect of more.

"Thanks."

She started as she heard Alessandro's words from behind her; he'd followed her to the fields and she hadn't even noticed.

He pulled her into a loose hug as he took the heads from her. "I'll see you bright and early tomorrow, sunshine."

Maisie stared as he walked towards the path to his house, leaving warmth radiating from where his arm had been.

She closed her eyes and groaned as he rounded the corner out of sight. She needed to stop reading into things.

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Maisie stood in front of the sink in the upstairs bathroom, staring with glazed eyes as the shower's water hit the floor of the tub.

It was Friday afternoon. Her days of waking at five in the morning to pick were over, as were her afternoons of farm chores. She could sleep in and lounge on the porch for what was left of her vacation, but first she needed to remove the grime her body had accumulated clearing the back fence.

As expected, Alessandro had helped her with the chore, but their time in the orchard had been the extent of their socializing since Wednesday.

He hadn't been able to pick on Thursday morning; Carolina and Gemma had kept her company in his place, and had explained that he'd been stuck taking their grandmother's overnight guests out for breakfast at the county's famous maple sugarhouse, and then out for a quick trip in the sailboat.

Horrific thunderstorms had rolled in this morning, forcing them to run back to their respective homes after just five minutes in the field.

They hadn't spoken much this afternoon, either. There hadn't been nearly as many vines as she'd thought there'd be on the back fence; her brother, Ben, had cleared them out late in the fall, and the spring drought they'd had until this morning had kept them at bay. She and Alessandro had finished the physically demanding job in just fifteen minutes, and he'd been quiet for most of it.

Remembering that she was standing naked in the bathroom with the water running, Maisie shook her head and climbed into the shower. She yelped and jumped back out as soon as the stream hit her shoulders; she'd forgotten to check and see if the water was hot enough.

After cursing her own stupidity and adjusting the water, she stepped back in and began to wash the dirt from her body. She chuckled as, unbidden, a memory of a similar incident, when Alessandro had followed her into the motel bathroom, popped into her mind. She closed her eyes as she lathered her hair, forcing herself to relax as the hot water massaged her shoulders and ran down her body, remembering—

"Maisie? Are you OK?"

Maisie's eyes popped open as the sound of her mother's voice from the other side of the bathroom door interrupted her memories.

"Yeah mom, I'm fine. I just forgot how far you have to turn the hot water dial."

"Every day, Maisie. It seems like you do this same thing every day. And every day I come running, thinking you've slipped and hurt yourself."

Maisie smiled as she rinsed her hair, imagining her mother shaking her head in the hallway.

"Sorry, mom. I forget; my dial in New York is really sensitive. Do you need help in the kitchen when I'm done?"

"No, that's OK, dear. After all your help this week, I'm ahead of where I usually am. I'm going to run some lettuce over to MacGreggor's; they've sold more lobster rolls than they expected to this week, and can't wait until tomorrow's delivery. I was planning on relaxing on the porch with a book, some iced tea and a roll when I get back; between this morning's storm and the awful weekend forecast, I'm determined to enjoy this afternoon's lovely weather. Should I get you a roll?"

"That sounds great, mom."

Ten minutes later they sat on the front porch's old hanging bench, sipping iced tea, eating rolls, and rocking back and forth as Maisie pushed her toe against the old tongue and groove floorboards. She tipped her head back and let out a contented sigh as she stared at the porch ceiling's sky-blue painted beadboard.

"Good?" her mother asked.

"Heaven." Maisie closed her eyes. "Pure heaven. I don't know how they do it. It's just a buttered and grilled hot dog roll, a small leaf of lettuce, and lobster meat with a hint of mayonnaise. Can you explain to me why we've never been able to replicate them?"

Her mother chuckled. "I don't know; maybe it's the griddle they have? Or the freshness; they're next to the lobster pound, you know. I'm just glad you like it." She leaned over and squeezed Maisie's knee. "I like seeing you happy. That's why I'm so glad you're getting along with Alessandro again."

"Mmmm, I know." Maisie tossed the last of the roll into her mouth, savoring the combination of simple flavors with long, slow chews. "It's nice. It's . . . ."

Maisie whipped her head around, her eyes popping open as her mother's words sunk in. "The roll. I mean, the roll is nice. Because Alessandro and I, we've been friends since, you know . . . ." Maisie's heart raced as her mother raised an eyebrow. "You know?" she whispered.

"Know what? That the two of you hadn't spoken in years before this week?" Her mother's voice was calm, and she didn't look angry; if anything, she looked amused, or at the very least, unsurprised.

"But, how . . . never mind." Maisie bit her lip and looked down at her lap. "I'm sorry, mom."

"Don't apologize, Maisie. You didn't do anything wrong." Her mother squeezed her knee again. "I meant what I said; it's good to see the two of you talking again."

"But, how? How did you know?"

Her mother let out an exasperated sigh as she pulled her hand away.

"Think, Maisie. Alessandro's mother has been one of my closest friends for over twenty-five years, and you and Alessandro were inseparable through most of your childhood. Don't you think the two of us talked about our children after you left for high school, and that our conversations continued after you graduated? Don't you think we noticed the inconsistencies in your stories? Alessandro never mentioned you, even when he was in New York for months at a time, and the girls were mum on the subject. And yet there you were, giving me frequent updates, but tellingly, never saying you'd spoken with or seen him."

Maisie's stomach, which had felt so nice after the roll, now felt queasy, as if she'd consumed bad mayonnaise. "Why didn't you say anything?"

They'd stopped rocking; Maisie's feet were flat on the ground and she was leaning forward, staring at the top of her hands against her knees.

"I pushed seven years ago, Maisie. Don't you remember? Through that entire summer and your first month of college, I pushed. I had my reasons; he'd been an idiot for a few years in high school, and then you'd been too stubborn to forgive him. You were teenagers, and teenagers do stupid things, so I pushed, hoping that you'd become friends again. I figured I knew what I was doing. You're my fifth child; surely I could help you avoid some of the pain and heartache I'd watched your brothers endure."

Maisie could tell her mother was leaning forward, trying to catch her gaze, but she didn't have the courage to look her in the eye. She felt like an idiot.

Her mother sighed. "And then you called, and then afterwards when we spoke again . . . well, I don't want to know exactly what happened that night—Lord knows I have my suspicions, and they're probably pretty close to reality—but whatever it was, I knew you were miserable. I tried to ask you about it, but you didn't want to talk. I don't know; maybe that's when I should have pushed. In any event, it delayed the two of you from speaking for seven years. I promised myself I wouldn't intervene again."

"You're not angry with me?" Maisie whispered.

"Of course not, dear." Her mother sighed. "I've always felt . . . guilty, I suppose. I knew you were miserable, that you were suffering. Do you have any idea what it's like to see your child be miserable? To know that you're partly to blame?"

"Don't feel guilty; nothing was your fault," Maisie said, gathering the courage to look up at her mother. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have misled you."

"You never lied to me, Maisie; you don't need to apologize. Besides, even though we both know how much I like to know everything about everyone, you're an adult and you're entitled to your secrets. I can't be angry if you didn't do anything wrong." Her mother took a long sip from her glass of iced tea. "Want to talk about it?"

"Want to talk about what?"

"About you. About Alessandro. About this past week." Her mother sounded exasperated, as if this should have been obvious.

"There isn't much to talk about." Maisie shrugged, still reeling from the revelation that her mother had known they weren't speaking the entire time. Had she and Alessandro been the only two clueless people? Had everyone else been twiddling their thumbs, waiting for the two of them to come to their senses and talk again? "We're friends again, I guess."

"Friends? Is that what you kids call it now?"

"Mom!" She stopped rocking. This was not something she wanted to talk about with her mother; it was bad enough that her mother probably knew exactly what had happened that night. "Really, we're friends. Nothing more. Besides, I thought you said you weren't going to meddle."

"Mmmm? I said I wasn't going to push. But I didn't say I wasn't going to meddle, or inquire, or tease, or suggest, or—"

"Seems to me like you're making up those distinctions," Maisie said with a grin. "And is that what you're calling your Monday morning role of discussion leader in the kitchen? Meddling?"

"Maybe." Her mother's lips twitched as she took another sip of iced tea. "Well then, missy, if you aren't going to talk about it, go and take a nap."

Maisie turned to look at her mother and burst into laughter. "Again with the pushing, mom."

"This isn't pushing. I'm merely telling my only daughter to get some rest. You look exhausted, and you've been working far too much on this so-called vacation of yours; as I've said every day, you don't need to help out so much. I'm putting my foot down; go and lie down. It's only five; I won't let you sleep for more than an hour or so. Go on, then."