My First My Last My Only

by Denise Carbo

  Chapter Twenty

  Mitch and Lucinda sit together on a bench in the park. On our bench. Their heads are angled towards one another. The wind carries away their words, but I can tell they’re deep in conversation.

  The song I hummed walking home from the bakery dies. Yesterday’s hike hadn’t gone precisely as planned, but Mitch was able to make me laugh about it by the time he brought me home. I had knocked on Lucinda’s door, but she hadn’t answered. Either she was out or it was her turn to ignore me. Who could blame her?

  Instead, I find the two of them together.

  Our kiss really had meant nothing to him.

  It was only an acting exercise. A lesson to help his buddy, the woman who constantly gets into one mess after another. The kitchen door, the kayak, the skunk, he witnessed them all, and I can’t even claim they were isolated events not likely to happen again.

  It’s the story of my life. A never-ending string of clumsiness or plain stupidity. I mean who sees black and white fur in the woods and thinks it’s a lost or injured cat? No, a sensible person would know it was likely a skunk.

  Why did I let my heart get involved? I should’ve kept avoiding him instead of believing I would be content being just friends. And this pretend dating game was a monumentally stupid idea. The warning signs were flashing but I blissfully continued on my way ignoring them.

  He doesn’t see me as someone he could become romantically involved with. How could he? I can’t compete with Lucinda.

  She’s blonde perfection and I’m orange disaster.

  The urge to run surges through me, but my feet aren’t cooperating. My chest shudders and I clasp a hand over my mouth as tears course down my face. Sobs shake my frame and finally my feet heed my distress and I spin away.

  I can’t go home. The last thing I need is to run into my parents and have them witness my despair. I can’t go back to the bakery because then I will have to go back through town, and I don’t want anyone to see my meltdown.

  Scrubbing my cheeks and sniffling, I skirt the edges of the park avoiding the pathways. My mother mentioned one of the neighbors, the Youngs, are away on vacation. I head in that direction, fervently hoping I got the week right and I’m not going to show up in their backyard and find them entertaining on the back deck or something.

  Finally, the park is behind me. I pause in the small stretch of woods between the park and the neighbor’s yard. Everything looks quiet, so I step over a branch and work my way towards the lake. They have a small, rocky shoreline with a short wooden dock. I plop down on the end of the dock with my legs dangling above the water and stare out at the lake.

  There’s a weight in my chest that wasn’t there before, and a gnawing pain in my stomach. The thought of Lucinda and Mitch becoming a couple and having to endure family gatherings and making polite chitchat while my mind is screaming in pain is more than I can bear.

  I’ll have to leave Granite Cove if it comes to pass. Start somewhere fresh, where no one knows me as Fatty Fanny, the family disappointment, the sister hiding in Lucinda’s shadow, or the woman who fell for Mitch Atwater again.

  Ugh!

  I close my eyes and fling myself back to lie prone on the dock.

  Get it together. I don’t even know for sure if they’re dating. Just because they’re two beautiful people who look like a match made in heaven doesn’t mean they are one.

  Fate may be throwing them together, with a great deal of help from my mother, but I shouldn’t let my negativity and low self-esteem prompt me to jump to conclusions. It’s not allowed in my new life plan.

  There could be a perfectly logical, platonic reason for them to be together again, with their heads tilted towards one another like they’re whispering endearments to each other.

  Sniffling, I rub the tears from my cheeks and angle my face towards the cool breeze blowing off the lake. A loon floats a few yards out in the water.

  Solitary like me.

  “Franny?”

  Sucking in a harsh breath, I glance over my shoulder. A man is standing a few feet behind me. The sun paints him black so I can’t identify him. I use my hand to shield my eyes.

  “Everything all right?”

  It’s Bobby Calvert.

  I scramble to a sitting position, smoothing down my clothes.

  “Um…yeah. Hi Bobby. I was on my way home from the bakery and thought I would just take a moment to enjoy the lake. The Youngs are away, aren’t they? I didn’t think they would mind.” Surreptitiously wiping the rest of the tears from my cheeks, I tuck strands of hair behind my ear.

  “Yeah, they’re on vacation. They’re one of my customers. I was clipping a hedge in the front yard.”

  Oh. Was it too much to hope he hadn’t witnessed my breakdown?

  “Cute, aren’t they?”

  I follow his gaze to the lake. The loon isn’t alone after all. Another loon and two babies have appeared.

  “Adorable.”

  “Some find their call sad, but to me, it’s peaceful.”

  He steps closer to my perch on the dock. His blond hair and tanned skin from working long hours in the sun are clear now. He’s wearing faded jeans and a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows and unbuttoned to reveal a white T-shirt underneath. Bobby Calvert is a handsome man.

  “I agree with you. I enjoy sitting on my parents’ screened porch in the evenings listening to the loons call to each other.”

  “When dusk arrives, and the lake smooths to a shimmering reflection of the sky, the setting sun is surrounded by waves of color, and then you hear the wail of a loon and the answering call of its mate.”

  “You paint a pretty picture.”

  Bobby shrugs and steps from the grass onto the rocky shore. “Mind if I join you?” He points to the jumble of large rocks next to the dock.

  I smile and wave a hand. “Be my guest.”

  He sits on the largest rock a few feet away from me. “Still have awhile to go until the sun sets.”

  “It’s one of my favorite times of day.”

  “I’ve seen you kayaking around that time before.”

  I angle my head to look at his face. “You have?”

  “Yeah, I like to fish and it’s one of my favorite times too.”

  Imagine that, I hadn’t noticed. I draw my legs up and turn so I face him. “I can be oblivious when I’m focused on something else, or my mind is off dreaming up new recipes to try.”

  “It’s a trait creative types share.”

  “You think I’m a creative type?”

  “You make delicious concoctions in that bakery of yours. It’s certainly creative in my opinion.”

  Smiling, I look back at the lake. “Thank you.”

  “Especially when you make those raspberry things. I can’t remember what they’re called, but it’s got a flaky crust and then a mouthful of heaven when you take a bite.”

  “Raspberry turnovers? I’ll make a batch for you tomorrow.”

  “Really? I’ll be there when you open.”

  Laughing, I glance over to catch him smiling while he draws in the dirt with a stick. A rough shape of the loon emerges.

  “Looks like you’ve got a touch of the creative type too.”

  Bobby laughs. “Not really.”

  “You have to be creative to shape the hedges and create manicured yards and gardens. I couldn’t do that.”

  We sit in silence enjoying the lake, and I am thankful for his timely interruption of my self-pity party.

  “Would you like to get dinner some time?”

  I swing my head around to stare at him, still staring out at the lake. He had said the words. I hadn’t imagined them. Was fate trying to tell me something? Had I randomly chosen Bobby for my imaginary crush or had destiny been sending me a signal to open my eyes and see what is right in front of me?

  He is more in my orbit, a local, quiet like me.

  I jump to my feet. “Yes, I would.”

  He jerks his head back and stares at m
e.

  Okay, I might have been a little over enthusiastic with my response. Did I scare him off already?

  A smile stretches across his mouth. “How’s tomorrow night sound?”

  Sunday night. Nothing on my schedule except to agonize over Mitch and Lucinda.

  “It sounds great.”

  Bobby nods and stands. “Come on, I’ll give you a lift home.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  I follow him to his truck parked in front of the house. I can’t help but compare it to Mitch’s truck. A trailer is attached to the truck with a fancy riding lawnmower and various other landscaping tools. He opens the passenger door for me and moves papers and a hat off the seat for me to sit.

  My parents’ house is only down the street, so the drive is short. He enters their driveway and parks. “I’ll pick you up here around six? Or do you prefer I meet you at the bakery after closing?”

  “Here’s good.” It would give me a chance to freshen up after work.

  “I’ll see you then.”

  “Goodnight, and thanks.” I climb out of the truck and stroll to the front door with a wave. He waits until I open the front door before reversing and driving away.

  What a thought-provoking turn of events.

  “Who was that?”

  Lucinda is peering through the glass on the side panels of the door. I glance around behind her. Please tell me Mitch isn’t here with her. Had he walked her home the same way he walked me home that day on the bench?

  “Bobby Calvert.”

  “Oh, I went to school with him.” She turns away from the glass and I can’t help but peer at her lips to see if there are any telltale signs of kissing remaining. They look normal. There is a trace of lip balm still evident. Did that mean Mitch hadn’t kissed her? If she had reapplied the balm, then it would be clearer on her lips.

  “I know.” So did I, but Bobby had been in her graduating class.

  My mother waltzes into the foyer, her high heels tapping against the floor. “Lucinda, there you are, I want to discuss my plans for a little get together.”

  I take the opportunity to sail up the stairs. Damning my cowardice with every step along the hallway, I hesitate, but I cannot make myself turn around and go back down the stairs or even wait to see if she comes upstairs. She’s left her husband and I’ve said nothing to her.

  I’m a horrible sister.

  Tapping my head against the wall, I stare at the stairs behind me. Will she follow me up the stairs or has my mother absconded with her for the night?

  Shouldn’t she take longer to get over a marriage instead of moving on to someone new? My someone?

  Would I care if she was spending time with anyone except Mitch?

  No, I wouldn’t.

  Pushing away from the wall, I continue to my room. I still can’t talk to her. If she talks about Mitch, I might burst into tears in front of her or worse, say something I can never take back.

  Shutting my bedroom door, I stride to the bathroom and shut that door too. Just in case she follows me into my room if she escapes my mother and her plans. Turning the shower on, I lean against the vanity and close my eyes. My mother is probably planning a get together to throw Mitch and Lucinda together again. Not that they appear to need her matchmaking efforts.

  A knock sounds on my bedroom door and I stiffen. Tiptoeing to the closed bathroom door, I lean my head against it and listen.

  The bedroom door opens, and Lucinda calls my name. Why didn’t I lock it?

  I cringe at my silence and hold my breath, waiting for her to leave.

  A moment later the door shuts, and I sag against the bathroom door.

  This must stop. I can’t avoid her forever.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Light dances in his eyes, reflecting from the flames crackling in the fireplace. The antique wall sconces dotted around the room provide a soft golden glow. White tablecloths and short bud vases filled with a single flower decorate each table in the room. When Bobby drove into the parking lot of the White Birch Inn for our date, I had to smile. I’ve wanted to eat here for a while, but not alone. The inn perches on a small rise at the corner of the cove, providing a sweeping view of the village and lake.

  I never go to restaurants by myself, which means I don’t eat out much unless it’s with family. It’s not like anyone will shine a spotlight on me if I do, and point and jeer, but that’s the image that pops into my head. One more way I let worrying what other people might think of me to stop me from doing something I might enjoy.

  Our conversation flows effortlessly, like between old friends, and neither one of us appears to feel the need to fill the silences with empty chatter. His blond hair has a slight curl to it. I’ve only seen him wearing a hat before, so I’ve never noticed. He’s wearing tan pants and a white dress shirt instead of the standard jeans. He’s put in a little effort. For me?

  The waitress takes our orders and Bobby gazes at me. “So, if the date goes well will you make more of those raspberry turnovers you made this morning?”

  “You bought half a dozen. You’re not sick of them yet?” He showed up right after opening this morning to ensure he got his treat.

  “Not by a long shot. I told you they’re a weakness of mine.”

  “I guess so. It surprised me you were there so early on Sunday morning. I prefer to sleep in on my days off.”

  “My internal alarm goes off at the same time every day whether or not it’s a scheduled workday. Besides, a lot of the best fishing is at the crack of dawn. It pays to get out before everyone else does and disturbs the fish.”

  “You must have seen the beautiful sunrise this morning then. I was watching it from the back window of the bakery.”

  “I sure did. I trolled along the shore of the cove, watching it rise over the water.”

  “Did you catch anything?”

  “A couple small mouth bass, nothing to tell fish stories about.” He smiles and wiggles his eyebrows.

  “Nothing about the one that got away?”

  “Got away from what?”

  I freeze, reaching for my glass of water. Blinking several times, hoping the sight before me is an illusion, I stare stupidly at Mitch standing next to the table with Lucinda a step behind him. My stomach drops into the black hole yawning under my chair and I want to dive in after it, anything to avoid facing them.

  Slinking under the table is out. So is forming a fake smile to act like I am happy to see the two of them together.

  Bobby stands and shakes Mitch’s hand. “Bobby Calvert, nice to meet you. Franny and I were talking about fishing.”

  “Ah, fish, not my area of expertise. You must know my date, Lucinda.” Mitch puts his hand at the small of her back and I look away.

  Lucinda smiles warmly. “Of course, we went to school together. Hello Bobby. It’s nice to see you.”

  Bobby gives a single nod and places a hand on the back of his chair, glancing at me.

  “You don’t mind if we join you, do you?” Mitch doesn’t wait for an answer but holds out a chair for my sister to slide into wearing a black skirt and blue shell. He then strides around the table to take the chair on my right.

  Just kill me now!

  A double date with Mitch and Lucinda is something straight out of my nightmares. I twist the napkin in my lap and pray for divine intervention.

  Bobby settles back into his chair. He gazes at me, perhaps looking for a clue on how to proceed or what is transpiring, but I am at a complete loss and offer no help. What should I say? No, you can’t join us. No, you cannot date each other at all.

  My fingers are digging into the sides of my chair, I could excuse myself to use the bathroom and sneak out a back door. The restrooms are in the back of the building. I bet I can make it through the kitchen to a back door from there.

  It would only prolong the inevitable. I have to face all these people on a regular basis. Which is worse enduring the meal, or living with the shame of abandoning my date and running and hiding?<
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  “I haven’t been to the inn in years. It’s lovely, isn’t it? And the fire in the fireplace is a nice touch.” Lucinda smiles as she glances around the table.

  Bobby and I both murmur, “Mhmm,” and then share a smile.

  The waitress arrives with two additional place settings and hands Mitch and Lucinda menus.

  “What did you order, Franny?” Mitch stares at me over the menu opened in his hands.

  “Um, Pasta Bolognese.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll have the same. Lucinda?”

  We all glance toward her as she smiles up at the waitress. “I’ll have the Chicken Caesar Salad, please.”

  After the waitress leaves to put in their orders, Mitch looks at Bobby. “So, Bobby is it? Tell me about yourself. What do you do? Ever been married? Kids? Skeletons in the closet?”

  Eyes bugging out of my head, I slide my cross back and forth on my necklace and glare at Mitch, but he ignores me.

  Lucinda coughs into her napkin and then takes a sip of water.

  Bobby rotates his glass. “I own a landscaping business. No. No. And none of your business.”

  A flat smile on his face, Mitch returns Bobby’s stare. “Fair enough.”

  Lucinda sets her glass down, rests her elbows on the table, and leans toward Bobby. “Do you remember the state championship game senior year?” She looks at Mitch. “He threw a touchdown pass that broke the school record. Bobby was the quarterback.”

  “It was a long time ago.” Bobby sips at his beer.

  I forgot that he had played on the football team.

  Mitch scoots his chair closer to mine, angling it toward the fireplace. He hooks his arm over the back of the chair and crosses his ankle over his knee. “I never played any sports myself, at least not school sports. I didn’t regularly attend high school so there wasn’t the opportunity.”

  He’d been busy making movies as a teenager. I never really thought about what it must have been like for him. “Were you tutored on the set?”

  “Yeah, there are all sorts of regulations for child actors. One of them is to ensure I could get my studies done. I got my G.E.D.”

  “I can’t imagine missing out on high school. It was such a fun time.” Lucinda shakes her head and frowns.