Clare O’Donohue - The Lover’s Knot

Just then, with minutes until ten, a woman knocked on the door. Nancy waved at her and pointed to the clock. The woman nodded but didn't budge.

Maybe they did get a rush.

"How does anyone stay home during the day and watch television? " My grandmother greeted me with annoyance and flipped off the TV.

"You're obviously feeling better." I dropped her favorite cardigan on the hospital bed. "In case you're cold."

She quickly scooped it up. "It's freezing in here. And," she took a deep breath, "I'm sure Nancy is frantic at the shop."

"Grandma, Nancy has worked at the store for years."

"With me beside her every step of the way."

"She's very smart," I said, not really knowing whether she was or not.

"I know that," Eleanor huffed. She made an actual noise that sounded like "huff." "I'm just worried how we're going to manage. Nancy's never run a store."

"I'll stay," I volunteered before I realized what I was offering. I really wanted to get back to New York, to see if Ryan and I could somehow figure our way through this, but now the words were out. And if I were needed here…

My grandmother looked into my eyes, with sweetness usually saved for animals and children. "Oh, dear," she said as she took my hand. "You've never run a store either."

As soon as I was out of the hospital I reached into my pocket and pulled out a business card. I dialed the number on it without even thinking whether I should.

"I have a favor to ask you," I said right away.

"Name it."

"Meet me at my grandmother's house in twenty minutes."

He agreed and hung up without asking a question.

Twenty minutes later I pulled into the driveway. Marc was already at the house, leaning against his car reading a piece of pink paper.

"I brought lunch," I said as I got out of the car, holding up a pizza box.

"You learn how to make that from your grandmother?" He folded up the paper and put it in his back pocket. Then he came toward me with a smile. He did have a nice smile. Different from Ryan's, but equally as charming.

Once in the house, after pizza and ten minutes of play with a still-worried Barney, we set to work. We took my grandmother's bed, piece by piece, into the living room, pushing back the furnishings to make room. Marc extended the cable wire so we could bring the TV from the kitchen into the living room, and we took the rugs, and anything else she could slip on, out of the downstairs bathroom and kitchen.

When we were done the place looked comfortable if slightly chaotic. But even with the bed in the living room, it wouldn't be enough. There was one more thing left to do.

"You ready?" Marc leaned against the fireplace and lowered his eyes so they met mine.

I shrugged. "Not really, but I don't have any other ideas, do you?"

"I like your plan, but we should go now if we're going to do this in one day."

Once Marc and I were in his car driving south toward New York, I started to worry. It had seemed like a good idea to pack up my apartment and move in with my grandmother for a few weeks. I needed a place to live, and time to think, and she needed help- whether she would admit it or not. But what if I was using her problems as an excuse to run from my own?

"You've gotten quiet." Marc turned down the radio. I realized I had just been staring out the window, so I turned to him, trying to think of something to say.

"I was just thinking how nice it was of you to spend your whole Sunday helping me."

He smiled and seemed pleased by the compliment. "I'm a handyman. I fix things."

"Oh, how are you at relationships?" The words popped out of my mouth and I suddenly felt self-conscious, but Marc didn't seem to notice.

"Yeah, I heard you got dumped."

"I wouldn't call it dumped," I protested, but only for a moment. "Yeah, okay, I guess I got dumped."

"Been there. It's the worst. You feel as if you got kicked in the stomach, and by the one person you trusted completely." He stared straight ahead and spoke quietly, almost to himself. "You just have to get past it."

"How?"

Marc rested his hand on my leg for just a second, but it felt good. "You're doing it, Nell. You're not sitting around waiting for him to decide if he wants you. You're making decisions. You're making plans for your future." He shifted a little in his seat. "It's none of my business, but the guy is an idiot."

I touched his leg just where he had touched mine, and left it there for more than just a second before I turned back to the window.

When Marc and I got to my apartment in New York, I immediately went for my cell. Three messages-one from Amanda and two from Ryan, one Friday and one today. I held my breath as I listened to his voice.

"Nell, it's me. I don't know if you want to talk to me or not, but I'd like to talk to you. I just want to know if you're okay with everything. If you're okay, period. Give me a call." Beep.

"Nell. It's Ryan. I know you're hurt and you're probably angry at me." Probably angry? "But I think it's unfair not to call me back and just let me worry about you. Please just call me, or I'll keep calling you." Beep.

"Everything okay?" Marc still stood in the doorway, watching me.

"Fine." I attempted a smile, and threw the phone in my purse. "Come inside. I'm pretty much packed up, so it shouldn't take long." I grabbed a box and handed it to him.

The only furniture I really had was my futon and TV; everything else was disposable or easy to pull apart. He had the truck packed and ready to go in less than two hours.

"I'm getting coffee for the road," he said. "Want anything?"

"Coffee sounds good."

"Take these," he said, and threw me a small set of keys-just two, a car key and what looked like a house key-on a worn leather key chain. "I'll be right back."

I went upstairs to see the place one more time and check that everything was in the truck. In the corner I had left one box. I wanted to carry it down myself, sort of a symbolic good-bye. In it was the lover's knot quilt I'd received just a few days earlier. Strange to think how much had changed in so little time.

I thought I would burst into tears. I'd planned it. But I felt nothing; I just was anxious to get on the road and breathe in some clean, crisp air.

When I walked out onto the street I could see that Marc was talking with someone. I took three steps and realized who it was-Ryan.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"What are you doing?"

"She's moving, pal." Marc stood between Ryan and me.

"She's my fiancee, pal ." Ryan moved around him.

"Not anymore." Marc moved toward me.

"All right, guys. That's enough." I pulled Ryan a few steps from Marc. "I was about to leave you a message," I told him.

Ryan moved close to me, very close. More for Marc's benefit, I knew, than either his or mine. "Who is that asshole?"

"My grandmother's handyman." Ryan looked Marc over. Marc stared back. I loved Marc for acting all knight-in-shining-armor over a woman he hardly knew. "And my friend."

"You're making new friends already?" If he had meant to sound tough, he'd failed. I could see his eyes getting watery. Ryan gently touched my hair.

"Have you changed your mind?" I knew better than to ask the question, but I wanted to give him every chance.

He just stood there looking embarrassed, then he reached for my hand. I pulled it away.

"You didn't call me back," he said.

"I forgot my phone," I answered.

"How did we get here?" He stared at me.

"You," I said quietly. "You got us here."

He nodded. "So you have to move? Because I need more time, you have to pack up and leave?"

"My apartment was rented, remember?" He suddenly remembered. "What am I supposed to do, crash on Amanda's couch until you're ready to get married?"