A Time for Us - By Amy Knupp Page 0,27
her mom finally said after an uncomfortable pause.
“Close my door, please, would you? I’m going to change and get out of here for a while,” Rachel said, unsure of what her plans were beyond fresh air and escape. “Night, Mom.”
Her mom pulled the door shut, leaving the room in full, blessed darkness again. Feeling as if she’d been struck by a wrecking ball, Rachel lay back down on the bed, rolling on her stomach and blocking out the sight of the open door across the hall from her mind’s eye.
Closing her eyes, she coached herself to think calming, happier thoughts. Like Cale. His muscular arms around her. His words...
What I don’t understand is why you shut me out. Why we can’t, I don’t know, be there for each other. Be friends or something.
She hadn’t intentionally shut him out—it just seemed to be her way. She wasn’t a social goddess like Noelle and never would be. When the sadness started stabbing at her, she didn’t want anyone to witness it, so she did whatever she had to to close herself off. But Cale was right. They’d suffered the same tragedy, were battling with similar losses. Rachel’s age-old feelings for him aside, they should be able to be some kind of support for each other. She was no expert at “friends,” but for Cale, she would figure it out. There was no one she wanted to see right now more than him.
Tossing off her slept-in capris and T-shirt, she located a clean pair of khaki shorts and a striped shirt. Once she’d thrown them on and brushed the tangles out of her hair, she set off to find her mom’s benefit binder with the master list of volunteers and phone numbers and her own cell phone.
Rachel had never been the type of girl to call a guy she wasn’t seeing regularly, let alone invite him out for ice cream. Apparently she was turning over a new leaf.
* * *
SHE STOOD OUTSIDE the door of Lambert’s Ice Cream Shoppe waiting for Cale to get there, trying to ignore the doubts that poked at her over whether he would indeed show. Studying the colorful menu board through the floor-to-ceiling windows, she tried to decide what she was in the mood for. Butter rum...caramel pecan...rocky road...triple dip? Only if she wanted to look like a cow.
When she spotted Cale getting out of the impossible-to-miss, bright orange Sport Trac, her mood improved tenfold and she insisted to herself it was just because he hadn’t left her standing there alone, feeling like a loser. She had trouble believing her lie when he reached her, put his hand at her waist and flashed a smile at her in greeting, sending her heart racing. As he looked down at her, smiling that amazing smile, he pierced her with those vivid green eyes she wanted to drown in.
Rachel shut down the little voice in her head that suggested she shouldn’t be thinking those thoughts about him, that the only possible thing between them was a friendship that didn’t include a racing heart or butterflies of excitement. Just for this moment, for tonight, she needed to feel good for a change, and looking at Cale, having ice cream with him, and not overthinking the situation, accomplished that.
“You weren’t waiting too long, were you?” he asked.
“Just long enough to decide my flavors.”
“And those are?” He opened the door and held it for her, still touching her with his other hand as he ushered her inside.
“Double dip. Rocky road and marshmallow dream. I had trouble choosing between marshmallow and toasted almond but the extra sugar power wins.”
“Well done,” Cale said as they stepped into the line to wait their turn. “Very...complementary. They’ll blend well.”
“Exactly. Unlike my sister’s clashing ice cream tastes.”
“Bubble gum, mint chocolate chip—”
“And orange sherbet,” she finished. “I have no idea how she could stand it but that was her standby since we were three feet tall.”
Cale smiled sadly. “Sometimes I suspected she didn’t even like the combination that much, but she took so much flak from everyone that she kept ordering it out of stubbornness.”
“That’d be our Noelle,” Rachel said and they both sobered. “What are you getting?”
“Strawberry cheesecake and vanilla.”
She nodded her approval. “Another good mix. Clearly we’re both ice cream blending experts.”
When they received their sugar cones packed with oversize dips of creamy perfection, Rachel insisted on treating. That made it less of a date, in her mind. “I dragged you out.”
“Yeah, horrible of you,” Cale said. “You