by J. H. Croix
“Hello, Miss Bell. I didn’t know when we would see you again.” His Southern accent was like soothing honey.
I paused, wondering how long I’d known George. “How long have I known you?”
The lines on his face deepened around his eyes when he smiled. “Well, Daphne, I’ve been working here since you were ten years old.”
His brown eyes twinkled as I reached across the desk to squeeze his hand. “Eighteen years. Wow. I missed you, although I can’t say I missed the rest.”
George’s eyes sobered. He’d come to Brandon’s funeral and also visited him in the hospital. Before Brandon was sick, George kept him company occasionally when I was racing between my restaurant and my office here.
“It’s good to see you. I absolutely understand why you might not love coming back here,” George said with a dip of his chin. At that moment, someone else approached the desk. With George’s quick smile and the understanding in his eyes lifting me, I walked into the elevator.
During my marriage, I’d taken this elevator skyward every morning with my ex. I’d had many abrupt revelations in the months before Brandon died and the time since—death brings shocking clarity in ways nothing else can. One revelation became even more blindingly clear now.
I’d been so young when I married, fresh out of college. I didn’t know better, yet I thought I knew everything. Not in an arrogant way, just in a foolish, naïve way.
At the time, I considered myself lucky to fall in love with the son of my family’s closest business partners. It had almost seemed fated. Now, I knew it wasn’t love. Just infatuation of a person and an idea built on the shakiest of foundations that collapsed the minute something difficult happened. It was like spun glass that shattered under the slightest pressure.
I tried to imagine Flynn in this situation with me. Although I knew he would be out of place, his tall, formidable presence would walk these hallways with more authentic confidence than my ex ever had.
As I stepped out of the elevator and saw the glass doorway into my family’s business offices, I experienced a breathtaking shaft of longing for Flynn. I genuinely wasn’t going to that place where I started to wonder what I really meant to him. Because it didn’t matter. What we had and the nights we’d spent together were more real than anything I’d experienced before. The same was true for the friendships I’d formed in the few months I’d been in Alaska. I had survived the worst. Whether or not Flynn fell in love with me, I would be okay. But right now, I missed him dearly, and I suddenly felt weary.
I remembered how grumpy he could be and the flip side of that. I remembered the feel of his palm at the curve of my spine when my mother showed up, and the feel of him cupping my cheek when he called me princess. I lifted my chin and forced my legs forward.
Just now, I expected to feel a little sick and intimidated. The way I’d felt for months every time I tried to come to these offices while I’d been facing down my son’s cancer.
Striding through the doors, I looked ahead to see Carol, the receptionist. Her eyes widened when she saw me. She recovered quickly, schooling her expression to a bland and polite one. “Good morning, Daphne.”
Carol had been friends with my friend and had covered up the affair. Although Nat had been fired, I surmised no one knew about Carol’s knowledge. I smiled tightly. Okay was the best I could describe how I was doing. “Good morning,” I replied.
Brushing past her, I strolled down the hallway. I hadn’t asked, but I was prepared for my office to no longer be available for me. I didn’t intend to use it, but I was mildly curious. When I stopped beside the door, I saw my name was still on it, and it was locked. Sliding my key in, I stepped into the office, then closed the door behind me.
Someone must have cleaned because it was perfectly tidy. Nothing was on the surface of my desk, and the office was untouched. I hadn’t come to this office since I learned of Pete’s affair. That had been before Brandon even died.
I was learning I was stronger than I expected. I thought this would be painful, but it wasn’t. I had already let this go. Turning, I left my office unlocked and strode down the hallway with purpose. Reaching my father’s office, I knocked. When I heard him call, “Come in,” I stepped inside and immediately closed the door behind me.
“Hello, Dad.”
He hadn’t even looked up yet. I did have one thing on my side: surprise. His eyes whipped up. “Daphne! I didn’t know you were here.”
“I know. I’m sure George or Carol tried to buzz you.”
My father glanced at his phone and cast a wry smile.
He rose from his chair and rounded his desk. I stood in front of it, my fingertips resting on the edge of the desk. When he stopped in front of me, I was surprised to see regret and sadness pass through his eyes. “I just want you to know I’m sorry,” he said slowly, his voice gruff.
This shocked me. I didn’t realize my mouth dropped open for a moment. As soon as I did, I snapped it shut. “For what?”
“For not putting you first.” My father pulled me into a hug, his arms folding around me.
After a moment where I was frozen, I returned the hug before stepping back. “I’m not coming back to work here. I came to tell you that in person.”
My father strode to stare out the windows, which looked out over downtown Atlanta. After a moment, he returned to his desk and rested his hips against it. “I understand. I actually looked into whether we could unwind the partnership with Pete’s family. It’s a remote possibility, but nothing that can happen quickly from a legal perspective. I was going to ask what you would like me to do.”
Of all the things I had anticipated and steeled myself to face, this wasn’t one of them. Giving myself a mental shake, I shrugged. “Even if you go through the trouble to do that, I’m not going to work here. It brings me no joy. Do what’s best for the business.”
My father’s eyes searched my face, his gaze shrewd and assessing. After a moment, he nodded. “Understood. Well then, I’m only going to make one change.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m only going to keep the partnership intact if Pete is no longer working here. Because it’s been a hard year and it’s been messy, I’ve left it alone. But that’ll be the one change I’ll make.”
My surprise must’ve shown on my face again. My father regarded me quietly before striding to look out the windows again. The set of his shoulders was stiff, and he exuded a sense of weariness.
“There are many things I haven’t gotten right in this lifetime, Daphne. But asking you to consider staying on after what happened with Pete will remain one of my biggest regrets.”
I waited quietly. I couldn’t say I was happy about this. It was more that, for the first time in my life, I felt as if my father was trying to understand.
Turning back to look at me, he continued, “I’m sorry. Your mother is still struggling because she wants you to come home. I told her that perhaps she needs to make the choice of whether to have a relationship with you at all.”
I swallowed through the emotion lodging in my throat and nodded slowly. “It’s not my personality to never talk to you or her, but this year has brought some things into focus. You didn’t have to, but thank you for making the decision about Pete. Honestly, I’m not going to be working here, so if it’s better for the business to keep him, that’s fine.”
My father shook his head slightly. “It’s not really a business decision. Well, I suppose it is. Our family controls fifty-one percent of this company, and his family controls forty-nine percent. It’s taken me a while to come to this, but I can’t work effectively with someone who would do what he did to you. So, there you go. Does your mother know you’re here?”
“I was just going to see her next. I didn’t call ahead.”
My father chuckled softly. “Well, I know that, dear. My phone would’ve been blowing up from her if you had.”
I stepped to him, and he hugged me firmly before drawing back and squeezing my shoulders. As
his hands fell away, he asked, “What is your plan?”
“I don’t know.”
I left my father’s office and walked up the stairs to the top floor where my mother’s office was. Over the years, my mother had held different positions in the company. Within the last decade, she almost exclusively handled the charitable projects for the business, a small but very busy operation.
My father’s question echoed in my thoughts. What is your plan?
I honestly didn’t know. I had some ideas, but no more than that. I would wing it, and it would be okay. I was starting to understand I would live with a jagged scar in my heart from losing my son for the rest of my life. But scar tissue is stronger than the original tissue after it heals.
I remembered Flynn’s eyes, that glacial blue with the charcoal rim. I heard him say “princess” in my thoughts again and again. I felt my lips curling in a smile at recalling how much he’d initially annoyed me and just what a grumpy guy he could be.
Another shaft of longing pierced me. I missed him. I knew I would get over him. I would go back to Alaska, and I would cook there. Then I would probably leave when it felt right because I didn’t know if Flynn could ever let down his guard enough to love anyone, and I never wanted him to change.
When I knocked on my mother’s door, it whipped open. She stood there, practically vibrating with energy. “Your father just called to let me know you were here. Why didn’t you call and let us know you were coming home?” She all but yanked me into her office. “Thank goodness you had enough sense to—” She stopped talking when I looked at her sharply.
“Mom, let’s not talk about how much sense you think I have about anything. I came back to officially let you know I’m not returning to work here.”
“You’ll re-open your restaurant then.” She said this firmly, as if it were a task already executed. As if re-opening my small café was quick and easy.
I shook my head again. “I don’t think so. I’m going to figure out what I want to do. While I do that, I have a job in Alaska, and I don’t intend to leave them hanging.”
My mother sighed, pursing her lips. “Have you fallen for that man?”
I wasn’t about to go into my feelings for Flynn with my mother. “Mom, it doesn’t matter. I’m not working here, and I don’t plan to live in Atlanta. I’ll come to visit, and we’ll be fine. As for what I’m doing and who I’m in love with, it doesn’t really matter.”
My mother’s lips pressed into a thin line, and I was shocked to see the sheen of tears in her eyes. “I don’t like having you so far away,” she finally said.
“Mom, I don’t know where I’ll end up, but it won’t be here. That’s just not what I want. Maybe that will change, but for now, I know that. Can you just try to understand?”
My mother’s eyes, so similar to my own, lifted. She regarded me quietly. “I’m trying. Did your father tell you he’s making it a condition of the partnership that Pete leaves his position?”
I nodded. “That still doesn’t change my mind, and I told him that.”
My mother let out a soft breath and gave a sharp nod. “How long will you be here?”
“A few days.”
My mother, who’d never been the warmest person even when times were good, stepped to me and lifted her hands to squeeze my shoulders. “I love you, Daphne. I don’t understand, but I will try.”
She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my cheek, the height of affection for my mother. “Where are you staying?” she asked when she stepped back.
“Well, I hoped with you and Dad.”
“Of course. We’ll have dinner together tonight.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Daphne
I saved my visit to Brandon’s grave until the morning before my flight to leave. Maybe it wasn’t the best plan, but I didn’t want to dally in Atlanta after that. As it was, everywhere I went, it felt as if memories were hitting me like rocks in an avalanche. I was dodging them constantly so I didn’t get emotionally flattened.
As I was loading my suitcase into my rental car, my phone vibrated. Although I had deleted Pete’s number from my phone, I still knew it by heart. I felt the vibration in my palm as I stared at the screen and then decided I might as well get this over with. Avoidance wasn’t something that helped.
Sliding my thumb across the screen, I lifted the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Daphne, it’s Pete. I heard you were in the office the other day.”
“I was.”
That was three days ago, and he was just now calling. I waited to see what prompted his call.
“I need you to talk to your father.”
I almost started laughing hysterically. When the veil had been lifted from my eyes about just how shallow the affection in my marriage had been, Pete had stopped trying to put on a show. I knew he deeply loved our son, but I had no illusions that he ever loved me. I think he saw our marriage as a beneficial business alliance.
“About what?”
“Apparently, he’s making my departure from my position in the company conditional on not dividing the company. Did you put him up to this?”
“Absolutely not. I don’t intend to return to my position there. My father made that decision on his own and was simply waiting to talk to me about it. I’ll leave it to you to figure out how to handle it. Is that all you wanted to discuss?”
I was kind of shocked at how calm I was. I suppose it was because I had truly moved on from Pete and the illusion of what I thought we had.
Pete was quiet. I sensed he didn’t know how to deal with me like this. When I found out about his affair, I was crushed and hysterical. I shifted from that to cold anger, and then my entire focus shifted to dealing with Brandon being sick and dying. Through all of that, Pete assumed a somewhat polite stance. When I filed for divorce, he’d put up a small fight and then backed down quickly when I hired a well-known ruthless attorney.
Apparently, his attorney had enough sense to know how bad it looked in court for him. After several quiet beats, Pete spoke. “I know it’s been a shitty year. For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry. I miss Brandon.”
Grief struck me so hard that I lost my breath. Although I didn’t miss Pete and now had a clear-eyed view of what our relationship had never actually been, we’d shared a terrible loss. I knew no one else could understand my pain the way he did.
When I could catch my breath, I said, “I know you do. You were the best father to him. Even though I obviously don’t like how you treated me, that doesn’t change the fact that I know how much you loved him.”
Pete was really quiet, to the point I thought maybe he wasn’t on the phone anymore. When he spoke again, I could hear the tears in his voice. “You’re absolutely right. I was a shitty husband, but I loved Brandon, and I’ll never stop missing him.”
We sat in silence on that phone line, and a strange sense of peace gusted through me. “You can call me if you ever need to,” I finally said. “I do wish you the best, Pete.”
I didn’t remember how we said goodbye, but we hung up. That was one of the paradoxes I had learned. Everybody had different faucets to who they were—some good, some neutral, some clumsy, some bad. Pete was shallow and superficial in many ways, yet he was also a good father to Brandon. He’d never been a hands-off kind of dad. He changed diapers, he fed him bottles during the night, and he never hesitated to take him to do things.
I could appreciate and honestly love that about him and for the gift it gave to our son. I could also see him for the man he was as a husband, which was hurtful to me and nothing I wanted to repeat.
I gathered my strength back together, almost like wrapping a coat around my shoulders, and finished packing my suitcase. A short drive later, I walked to the small plaque. Brandon Lind. 2014 - 2018. He was light, love, laughter, and joy. May his memory live for eternity.
For mostly the first month after Brandon died, I almost couldn’t cry. I felt tied tight like a knot, the kind where you try t
o pick it out with your fingers and you can never get purchase to loosen it. When I finally loosened the knot, the tears came in noisy bursts, and it almost hurt to even talk to anyone. It was as if my skin itself was carrying the wounds of my grief, sensitive to air, to light, and to the mere presence of anyone who knew what had happened.
During those months, it was easier to be around strangers because they didn’t know. I could pretend I was okay. Strangely, it wasn’t denial. It was more like practice for keeping my shit together. Because I couldn’t do it around anyone who knew what happened. Just their knowledge was enough of a reminder that I would fall apart.
Then came the next stage—the anger. I swung between anger and denial and a sort of crazy wishful thinking. Even now, I still knew exactly where I had one outfit for Brandon should he mysteriously re-appear. I even brought that outfit in my luggage to Alaska. It was during the height of my anger that I finally saw a therapist.
Among many things, she’d assured me I wasn’t absolutely insane to keep an outfit of Brandon’s. Apparently, that was a thing people did. It was a type of magical thinking when someone died. When death was unexpected, she told me people had all kinds of weird thoughts, and that hope—no matter how wildly irrational at times—helped to carry us through the pain.
I learned that the winding path of grief had no logical order. It was different for everyone, and my process was exactly the way it needed to be for me. It was odd to consider it now, but I realized in hindsight that my anger toward Pete and Nat had actually given me some strength during the worst times.
I knelt in the grass and traced my fingers over his name. I fingered the locket that held one of his auburn curls. Aside from the random advertisement that popped up on my screen when I saw the name of Flynn’s resort, I’d started looking for travel in Alaska because Brandon always wanted to go. I didn’t even remember what started that wish for him. I thought it was perhaps an episode from one of the nature shows he loved to watch. We limited his screen time, but he often selected those shows when he got his half hour. He got sick so fast. We didn’t even have time to take a trip.
