by Robyn M Ryan
She softly sang her hummingbird song as she set the table out in the porch. Fresh air after that long plane ride. She placed several small candles on the table, then wished she had hurricane lanterns to hang like in that restaurant by the Gulf.
Lauren had just showered and changed when her phone pinged in the other room. She’d forgotten to take it off silent after she’d completed her work to-do list, and she raced to grasp it before the call rolled to voice mail. Her heart fluttered when she saw Marty’s photo on the screen.
“Welcome home, Mr. Martin.”
“Hey, babe. Won’t feel like home until I get my welcome-back kiss.”
“Just a kiss?”
His laughter warmed her like the sun. “Only the beginning, Ms. Gentry. We just walked off the plane, so I should be home in about an hour.”
“I should have driven to the airport, then you wouldn’t have to take the bus all the way in town, then drive home. Can I pick you up at the arena?” Lauren realized she was babbling and paused for a breath. “I can’t wait to see you, Marty.”
“Be home soon, babe. Next time, though, if we get back at a decent time, I’ll take you up on the airport pick-up.” She heard voices in the background. “Walking onto the bus, squirt. I’ll see you soon.”
#
After checking her culinary preparations and checking the table on the porch for the third time, Lauren grabbed her iPad and settled down at the kitchen counter. Looking for a distraction, she opened her email and her heart tightened when she saw Amanda had responded to her message. She said a quick prayer for a positive response, then pressed to open the email.
She scanned, then reread it carefully. Haven’t heard anything about graduation because they only allow four tickets per student. Trevor and his wife took two, and Amanda wants that woman to share this special occasion with her granddaughter. In other words, too bad, Gentry.
“Cassie is disappointed you cannot join us, Lauren, but perhaps you can visit when everything settles down. Cassie will have two separate small celebrations—just family.” Lauren felt her throat tighten. The graduation celebration dinner was not restricted, but Amanda didn’t expect Lauren to fly to Vancouver for just one evening. So, she’s sorry I can’t celebrate my niece’s big day—like I believe that.
Lauren didn’t trust herself to reply without making snarky comments, so she set the tablet aside and wandered to the kitchen. Amanda invited their indifferent, alcoholic mother instead of her own sister. What I told Caryn today about not being part of their family—absolutely correct. She poured a small glass of wine and sat at the kitchen table as she contemplated options. She could fly to Vancouver and buy her own ticket to the dinner…but, no doubt their mother would be there—could Lauren handle meeting her mother in such a public setting? Just the thought of seeing the woman threatened to envelop her in a panic attack. No, don’t trust myself…probably make a scene and ruin Cassie’s evening. Perhaps take Cassie to an exclusive restaurant the following week? Stay in a hotel, so I don’t have to see her?
Coward. Why should she let that woman prevent her from seeing her own niece? Lauren didn’t have to pretend anything. She could ignore their mother just like she had ignored the young Lauren. Nothing that woman did could hurt Lauren now. She’d survived the neglect. What’s the worst she could do now? Get drunk and make a scene? Not. My. Problem.
She’d join the celebration—even the trepidation about seeing her mother wouldn’t keep her away.
#
Dave opened the front door and had barely set his suitcases in the foyer before Lauren launched herself toward him, and he took a step closer to catch her. She threw her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist, laughing as she sought his lips. The best welcome home greeting ever. He walked toward the living room, returning the kiss and holding her securely against him. He brushed his lips across her cheek. “So, you missed me?”
“More than you know.” She released her hold on him and slid to the floor. Her green eyes sparkled when she looked up at him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to jump your bones when you opened the door.” Dave saw the teasing smile cross her face.
He traced her lips with light fingers. “Oh, I think you knew what you were doing, squirt. For a second I thought you’d misjudged and would hit the tile floor.”
Lauren wrapped her arms around his waist. “I knew you wouldn’t let me fall.” She cocked her head. “I hope you’re hungry? I made a light dinner. Come, look at the screened porch.” She led him to the candlelit scene she’d created. “All I need are some lanterns.”
“Beautiful, babe. Dinner will be great—is it something that needs serving right away?”
“No, you can change into something more comfortable.” She reached to loosen his tie.
“I will, but I have something else in mind.” He scooped her into his arms and carried her to the chaise lounge across the porch. He set her on the plush cushions and unbuttoned her shirt. “Do you mind if we start with dessert?”
“I think…” Lauren slipped the tie from around his neck and began to unbutton his dress shirt. “This is the best idea I’ve heard in what…eight days?”
“Feels more like eight weeks.” He punctuated his comment by kissing her neck, his teeth lightly grazing her hummingbird. “Next long road trip, I’m insisting you join me.”
“Oh, you are?”
Dave saw her green eyes turn emerald as she teased him.
“I may need some guidance on Instagram. Angela asked if I’d post a video every day on the next trip.” He kissed that spot behind her ear that caused Lauren to squirm.
“Caryn’s your account coordinator, not me.” Lauren’s raspy reply caused Dave to chuckle.
“Pretty sure she’ll grant my request, squirt.”
Lauren wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his face to hers. “Shut up, Marty, and just kiss me.”
#
Lauren giggled as she slipped into Dave’s dress shirt much later. “Do you still want your dinner, or did dessert spoil your appetite?”
“I want dinner—and perhaps more dessert afterward.” Dave’s wink caused the butterflies to flutter, and Lauren directed him to sit at the table she’d prepared. “Can I help you, babe?”
“I’ve got it. Would you like beer or wine with the meal?”
“Wine sounds good.” Dave caught her hand before she turned to walk back inside the house. “Best welcome home ever, Ms. Gentry.”
Lauren lightly brushed her palm against the stubble on his cheeks. “Oh, we’re just getting started, Mr. Martin.”
Over the light dinner of baguettes and chicken salad, they caught up on the past week. “The season’s ending soon,” Lauren said. “What are you thinking playoff wise?”
“If we win the Division, I like our chances in the Conference Final. Washington’s on a hot streak, but so are we. Hopefully, we won’t turn cold in the playoffs.”
“Do you ever think that it might help to lose a game instead of carrying a winning streak into the playoffs?” Lauren sipped her wine as she watched the rueful smile cross his face.
“Yes and no. It might take some pressure off if we don’t go in with ten-plus consecutive game wins. But, no one wants to mess with our mojo. If the locker room’s any sign, we’d need to add something else to the pre-game routines to get back on track.”
“And no one is superstitious?”
“Not one of us.” Dave’s eyes caused Lauren’s stomach to flip-flop. “You’re my good luck charm. So, you need to travel to all the games.”
“Possibly I can arrange that. Do I get to travel with the team like Marsha?”
“No, the wives, girlfriends, and family travel separately. If I have my way, your pal Marsha will get bumped to commercial flights.”
Lauren groaned “Don’t know what’s worse—thinking about her hanging all over you guys or making the rest of us miserable.” She reached for her phone and scrolled to the photo Cam sent of Marsha trying to hang onto Dave. “You
know, something like that.” She turned the phone so he could see it.
“Where did that show up? Someone posted on Instagram?”
She shrugged innocently. “It never made your feed, don’t worry. If Caryn finds it anywhere, she deletes it. Not quite becoming of the Senior Director of Communications.”
His eyes darkened as he captured her eyes. “That doesn’t bother you, does it?”
“Sometimes, but it comes with your profession. Most of the time your body language speaks volumes, Marty.” She smiled slightly. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to scream ‘hands off.’”
“You know it means nothing, right?”
“Just a hazard of the job. Maybe you need ‘taken’ tattooed across your forehead.”
Dave burst into laughter. “You’d call me a caveman if I told you that.”
“Well, guess that makes me a cavewoman. I just can’t toss you over my shoulder and take you away.”
“Say the word, babe. We can reverse roles. I’ll do the tossing and carrying on your behalf.”
She smiled as she bit her bottom lip. “Anytime, Marty. So long as you’re my caveman.”
31
STARING AT THE blank email screen made Lauren dizzy. She’d received Amanda’s email two days ago and continued to procrastinate crafting a response. What can I say without sounding like a bitch? I feel like a bitch—maybe just say how I feel? She could tell me I’m totally wrong—I’ll always be part of the family? Or confirm my suspicions that I’m the outlier in this “family?” She wanted to ask Dave’s opinion but didn’t know where to begin without divulging more information than she wanted. Ha!—Probably think I was joking. Then he’d realize why I’m hesitant—afraid?—to believe in forever…
She opened the calendar app. Last fall she’d marked the May dates for graduation and the graduation dinner. That was back when Lauren had no doubts about Amanda’s attitude toward her—a true member of the family. Before Amanda reunited with their mother and refused to acknowledge the hostility Lauren harbored…before she wondered about Amanda’s drinking. Then, once Cassie took off, the simmering pressure-cooker exploded. Her place in Amanda’s family appeared jeopardized.
Reaching for her phone, Lauren pressed her sister’s name. Driving yourself crazy, Gentry. Figure this out with her. Now.
“Lauren, how are you?” Amanda’s voice sounded carefully neutral. “How’s Tampa?”
“Warm, beautiful weather, my schedule’s settled down…Life’s good. What about you?”
“Busy supervising Cassie, so she gets her school work completed and turned in. Not a particularly pleasant situation out here.” Bitterness?
“Is she living with you?” Lauren ventured.
“One week here, the next with her father. It will stay that way for the near future. At least I get an attitude break every other week.”
Lauren had never heard her sister speak so negatively—not even after the divorce. “I’m sorry you’re going through this when you should be preparing for a wonderful graduation celebration. I remember how special you made the whole experience for me—I'll never forget that time.” She picked at her nail polish. Do I just blurt what I’m feeling right now?
“Lauren, things are different now…You still working on that contract with the Tampa hockey team?”
“Nope, the Suns hired a full-time person, so I’m back to the social media scene.” Lauren hoped her voice sounded upbeat. “It’s kind of nice to work at home again.”
“And that hockey player—are you still seeing him?”
“Dave Martin. Yes, Marty and I decided to see where our relationship takes us.” She heard her own nervous laugh. “Don’t know why I took so long to commit. He’s the perfect boyfriend—he gets my wacky habits, makes me feel like I’m the most important person in the world, and we laugh so much when we’re together. He’s special.”
“Just don’t let yourself get too attached to him, Lauren. You know it’s only a matter of time before he’ll look elsewhere. That’s what men do—and I’m sure he attracts women everywhere the team travels.”
“Marty’s not like that,” Lauren mumbled, then changed the subject. “Do you not want me to come for Cassie’s graduation weekend, Amanda? I’ve had the dates blocked on my calendar for months.”
“You understand about the tickets, don’t you? Four per student. Trevor has two; I get two. Mom’s ecstatic to see her granddaughter graduate. This means a lot to her. She’s missed so much of our lives.”
“Her choice.” Lauren closed her eyes. “So, no chance of scoring an extra ticket?”
“I’ll keep asking. That’s all I can say.”
“Maybe I’ll buy a ticket to the dinner festivities. I’d like to share some part of Cassie's celebration.”
“You ready to see our mother again? Open to reconciliation?” Amanda challenged her. “I wish you’d just come home and spend time with her, get to know her—the mother you always wanted.”
“Amanda, I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for that. That woman terrifies me. Next thing you’ll tell me is that our father is sober and no longer abusive.” Lauren couldn’t hide the sarcasm that bordered on revulsion.
Amanda laughed. “No, Mom said he died a long time ago. I promise you won’t run into him anywhere.”
“Thank God.” Lauren glanced at her watch. The guys will get back from practice soon. “Amanda, I don’t know if I’ll ever want to spend any time with our mother. I can promise I won’t spoil Cassie’s evening.”
She heard Amanda’s deep sigh. “Do what you want, Lauren. Mom’s still tentative about our reconciliation. I don’t want you derailing it.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll stay at a hotel and even sit at a different table, for heaven’s sake,” Lauren snapped. “Then I won’t have to pretend everything’s peachy. I’ll ask Trevor if he has space at their table.”
“Will you bring ‘Mr. Perfect?’” Amanda’s mocking tone infuriated her.
“I hope he’ll be playing in the Stanley Cup Final. I’m not sure I’d want to expose him to our toxic family.” Lauren realized she had destroyed her fingernail and reached for a tissue to blot the blood.
“If you’re afraid we’ll scare him off with our ‘toxicity,’ Lauren, then you’d better end things now. You can’t keep us hidden forever—especially not your mother, then or now. Stop believing in fairy tales—if you’re hiding the truth about something as big as your childhood, don’t expect him to trust you when he does find out. You can’t keep this a secret forever.”
Amanda’s sharp words pierced the bubble of happiness that had surrounded her. Lauren could feel the energy and positivity draining from her soul. She mumbled a goodbye and pressed the disconnect button. Tempted to toss her phone, Lauren instead dropped it beside her computer, then flung herself across the bed in her office. The insecurities that Dave had erased rushed back with a vengeance… she had lived a fairy tale since Dave Martin arrived in Tampa. She believed him when he said he wanted an exclusive relationship. She wanted to see where this would take them. Almost used the L-word the other day. In over my head?
Amanda’s harsh words brought her heart back to earth. She hadn’t been honest with Marty—not from the first day they met. The product of alcoholic parents and the recipient of verbal abuse and neglect, how could Lauren ever have believed she could escape her past? Maybe if their mother hadn’t resurfaced, she could have continued in dreamland. Now she wondered if destiny would dictate her own descent into negativity and bitterness.
All her insecurities bubbled into her conscious mind…the low self-esteem she’d battled since elementary school that grew with embarrassment every time a mother-daughter or father-daughter function popped on the schedule. The teasing and questions from the other kids—they knew Amanda and Trevor were not her parents and asked questions she couldn’t answer.
Secondary school brought its own problems. Lauren so wanted to join the cheerleading squad, but the tryouts only proved her awkwardness and fear of
attention. As she blossomed physically, her ego rose each time a guy appeared interested in her. Lauren watched the popular crowd; she saw the athletes and their girlfriends stealing kisses between classes, disappearing during study hall—she thought she knew what she needed to do to join the group.
Lauren still cringed in embarrassment over her misguided attempts to gain acceptance. Her popularity with the guys earned the scorn of the same group she longed to accept her. She heard the whispers repeatedly in the hallways. Slut. Easy lay. Whore. And much worse.
A picture she prayed had disappeared lay like a landmine in her mind. Egged on by the cute twin centers, the naïve sophomore agreed to pose semi-nude between them under the bleachers. They promised they’d never share the pictures, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t show the photos on their cell phones. It didn’t take long for rumors to spread that she had indulged in a threesome.
By senior year, Lauren preferred a small group of outcasts like herself, refused to go out with any guy, and concentrated on her courses so she could earn a scholarship as far away from Vancouver as possible.
In Toronto, she learned that friendship results from shared interests, not whether you belonged to a predefined group. No one knew her reputation, and no one made her feel worthless. Lauren learned how to shove the bad memories into a box and then reinvented herself into a typical university student. By her second year, she had her first best friend—Caryn—and over time her self-confidence grew as her insecurities faded. She no longer preferred staying invisible, and finally Lauren blossomed into a confident young adult. She entered relationships with her eyes wide open, expecting nothing more than “friends with benefits.” She didn’t date often—she’d learned that being selective trumped saying yes to anyone who’d ask her to go out.
