by Jo McNally
“You gave me grief about my so-called bro-pals, but seriously...the guys I served with are the only ones who get it. So it’s...easier. I mean... I don’t even have to say anything, and they automatically understand.” A short burst of explosions echoed below them, and he forced himself to keep talking. “Did you hear that? It sounded like tracer fire, trying to light up one of our drones. That big one? Sounds like an 82 mm mortar, which could have been fired from two miles away. But that one’s not coming down close enough to be an immediate threat. If it was any closer...well, then the camp might be under attack.” The dark memories threatened to overwhelm him, but Lucy said she wanted to hear this. “If it was, we’d tumble out of our cots and into our gear in the pitch-dark—you’d hate that part—and grab our weapons. Waiting for orders.” He paused again. “Each sound brings a heightened sense of...well...everything. It’s like wearing one of those shock collars that they make for dogs, but never knowing when it was going to go off. No warning beeps. And it goes off so often that you’re always anticipating it. You never relax, Luce. You can’t afford to relax. You can barely afford to sleep most nights. Relaxing gets you killed.”
He closed his eyes tightly, thinking about the night the mortar attack hit their camp. How the sky lit up. How his friends died. The smell of sulfur and smoke. The yelling, cursing and cries for help. He was almost lost in the horror again when Lucy spoke, her voice a quiet balm on his shattered nerves.
“I’m so sorry, Owen. I didn’t know...” She shook her head, sending a beam of light back and forth on the grass. “I mean... I guess I did know. It’s war, after all. I know people died, and I know you knew some of them. I was terrified that you would be one of them. I was so thankful when you came home in one piece that I put those other realities behind me.” She rested her hand on his thigh. Like her voice, it centered him. “It makes sense that you couldn’t just put it aside. You lived it. But Owen...it can’t be healthy to just swallow all your feelings about that. Even if you don’t want to talk to me about it, you aren’t doing anything to deal with it. After this last tour, you came home a stranger to me. I bugged you about it so much because it frightened me.”
“You were afraid of me?” The idea made his blood run cold.
“No. I was afraid for you. And for us.” She stood and pulled the lamp off her head, letting the straps wind between her fingers, with the light cast on the ground at their feet. “Remember that word dump I gave you at the inn the day you showed up? When I said I was an understander? Well, I had no way of understanding where the Owen I knew had gone.” She moved in front of where he sat, stepping between his legs. “I’d been waiting so long for our life together to finally start, but it was like your body double showed up instead of you.”
She was right. He wasn’t the guy she’d known before. There was a bright flash beyond the trees, and a rapid series of explosions followed by more colors lighting up the sky. The finale of the fireworks show. His body tensed at the bombardment of sound and light, no matter how distant. Lucy’s hands gripped his biceps. Her forehead touched his. She was trying to stay connected...trying to keep him connected to her. To the present, not the past. He rested his hands on her hips, completing the circle.
Neither of them said a word while the finale came to an explosive conclusion. There was a beat of silence after the echoes faded, then the sound of car and boat horns rose, going off as people expressed appreciation for a celebration that had sent him running. And still they stood without moving. He breathed in the soft floral scent of his Lucy, wishing they could stay connected like this forever. Silence fell on the Seneca Valley again, and she made the first move, slowly backing away. Moving out of reach, but not by much. That had to be a good sign, right?
He looked up, unable to see her face with the parking lot light behind her. But he could tell she was waiting for some kind of answer. He was suddenly exhausted from holding on to everything he was carrying, and his shoulders fell in defeat.
“You’re right. I didn’t come back the same. The last tour...it was so many levels worse than the first two for me. Iraq and Kabul were no picnics, but the last one. The mountains. The weather. The gunfights. We ended up in the thick of things more than once. Fucked up intel. Lousy luck. I don’t even know.” He stared off into the darkness under the trees. Now that the fireworks had stopped, he could hear the distant whoosh of the waterfall somewhere beyond the woods. Lucy waited quietly for him to return to thoughts he wanted so much to avoid.
“People died before. Even people I knew...sort of. But this time...” His head dropped. “This time some of them died in my arms. Friends died in my arms. Friends were in...” He couldn’t say the word pieces out loud. A strangled sound from Lucy suggested he didn’t need to. She was getting the idea. “It makes everything else seem so...unimportant.” He rushed to clarify, looking straight at her. “I don’t mean it made you unimportant. But the wedding plans...the dress...the food...” His hand rose and fell. “I know it was important to you, so I should have made more effort, but I truly didn’t care.” He stopped. “There, I said it.”
She considered his words for a moment, swatting at the mosquitoes that had inevitably discovered them and were circling her head.
“Yes, you said it. And I... I respect that, after what happened. But what you didn’t hear during those weeks before the wedding was that the problem wasn’t in the wedding plans—I never expected you to get excited over choosing daisies or roses for the centerpieces.” She stared down at the gently swinging circle of light on the ground from the light she still gripped in her hand. “The problem was that I wanted daisies and I was getting roses. I wanted a simple cotton dress and I was getting a tulle ball gown with a twelve-foot veil. I wanted a small, intimate ceremony and I was getting a country club reception with a full orchestra. The wedding plans weren’t what I wanted you to care about. My feelings about them are what I wanted you to hear.”
Silence hung between them again, heavier than before. He blew out a heavy sigh. He’d really screwed things up.
“I’m sorry, Luce. I should have heard that, but I just... I was was trying to hang on, you know? I didn’t want any deep dives into feelings. Not mine. Not yours. Your leaving was what jolted me out of my stupor.” He thought of that first week he’d spent drinking alone in the apartment. “Eventually, anyway.” He pushed himself to his feet, turning her toward the car as he swung his hand at the mosquitoes assembling over them in a low and menacing cloud. “We should head back before we lose all our blood to these assholes.” He tried to wind his fingers through hers. She squeezed his hand, then gently tugged hers free.
There had been a shift in the mood between them, though. She may not be angry anymore, but her obvious disappointment in him lingered. He wasn’t the enemy. But she wasn’t ready to go back with him yet, either. He still had a long way to go on that front. Hopefully Dr. Find-Love had more ideas, because he was fresh out.
* * *
LUCY DIDN’T NOTICE Owen in the dining room of the inn the next morning until she turned away from the coffee urn on the sideboard by the windows. She’d been so desperate for caffeine that she’d walked right past him on a beeline for her first cup. He lifted his own coffee to his lips, a corner of his mouth ticking upward.
Any other morning, she’d have scanned the room for him before entering. Maybe last night’s conversation had softened her defenses. Maybe she just didn’t need defenses at all. Owen had never been her enemy. He hadn’t even been the main reason she’d left Greensboro. His coldness had hurt her feelings, but he’d explained away at least some of that. And the explanation had touched her heart more than she cared to admit.
“Are you going to stand there and stare at me all morning, or are you going to sit and have breakfast with me?” He set his coffee mug down and gestured to the empty chair across from him. “Have we declared enough of a truce to be able to share a table peacefully?”
She n
odded and pulled out the chair, making a face at him when he tried to scramble up to hold it for her. “Sit. We’re not on a first date. You don’t need to impress me with your chivalry.”
He chuckled. “Were you ever impressed with my chivalry?”
Memories of their first few months of dating wound through her head like a newsreel. The magical first week on Topsail Island. Weekend trips to Fayetteville to visit him at Fort Bragg, where she’d stay in a hotel and they’d make plans for dinner or a movie...and then they’d blow off those plans and spend all their time in bed together. He made trips to Greensboro, too, but it was a little more complicated with her living at home. At first he’d get a hotel room, which worked great because she’d sneak out and meet him there. But once her family embraced their relationship—which was pretty fast because Owen charmed them and he was invited to stay at the house. On the pullout sofa in the living room. Where he’d have to tiptoe past her parents’ room to get to her bed.
“What are you grinning about?” Owen gave her a curious look.
She unfolded the white linen napkin and spread it on her lap. “Whenever you mention our past, a whole slideshow starts playing in my head. Remember sneaking past Mom and Dad’s bedroom at my house?”
He barked out a laugh and she almost jumped. She hadn’t heard a real laugh from him in ages. “Do I remember? There was that one stupid floorboard that always creaked, and I swear I stepped on it every damn time, no matter how careful I was. I was always afraid of your dad and that shotgun he liked to remind me he owned.”
“I think you were safe. I doubt they really imagined I was a twenty-eight-year-old virgin.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. They put me on the sofa bed for a reason. I still say the shotgun was a genuine threat.”
“And what about your parents? Whenever we stayed at their place, your mother put me in that dungeon of a basement guest room, two whole floors away from you.”
“That dungeon was a full in-law apartment with a kitchen, but yes—” he winked “—there’s a reason we rarely stayed there overnight.”
The reason was more than logistics. His mother had never been very welcoming when Lucy visited. Especially after they’d become engaged and the Coopers had agreed to join the Higgins family that following Thanksgiving. Faye Cooper’s nose had actually wrinkled when she got out of their luxury sedan in the driveway outside her parents’ modest brick ranch.
“Uh-oh.” Owen’s voice dropped. “What are you seeing on the slideshow now?”
Before she could answer, Piper came in with a tray of blueberry pancakes. She came to an abrupt stop when she saw the two of them sitting together.
“What... I mean...you’re together...” She straightened and walked to their table with a bright smile. “I mean good morning. I didn’t know you were here... I mean...awake, Lucy. Let me get you a plate. There should be enough pancakes and bacon here to get you both started. I’ll bring a refill in a few minutes.” With nearly every word, Piper’s eyes bounced between the two of them, obviously full of questions. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. “Okay, forget pancakes. What happened last night? You two took off before the fireworks and now you’re having breakfast together. Did you make your own fireworks by any chance?”
“No fireworks,” Lucy said firmly. “But...conversation. And a truce.”
Piper pursed her lips. “So...not engaged but...friends?”
Lucy and Owen stared at each other for a long moment. The corners of his eyes tightened a bit, the way they did when he bit into something sour. He gave her the slightest of nods, and they said the word in unison.
“Friends.”
He didn’t sound enthusiastic about the idea, but it felt right to her. With Owen in the friend zone, it removed the stress of avoiding him or trying to be angry with him. And it had been an effort. It was beginning to feel like work to stay mad. They ate their pancakes in relatively comfortable silence.
If she was honest with herself, her blowup had been brewing for a long time before the wedding. She kept thinking things would be better after, which was exactly what she’d angrily accused Owen of doing. The two of them were quite a pair, just waiting for things to get better without actually doing anything about it.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She groaned when she saw the screen. Mom. She showed it to Owen as she stood.
“I’ve been sending most of her calls to voice mail. I think it’s time to face the music.”
He nodded, chewing his pancakes. “As your friend, I agree.”
She rolled her eyes, but with a smile, patting his shoulder as she walked past and answered the call.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Oh, you’re finally going to talk to me?”
“Well...” Lucy headed up the wide staircase. “You keep calling. Did you not want me to answer? Because I’ll hang up...”
“No!” her mother shouted. “Of course I want to talk. You just...surprised me.”
“I told you I needed time.”
“Yeah, well...you’ve had time. Now you need to come home and start repairing things.”
She trotted up the last flight of stairs, phone to her ear.
“You know what, Mom? I don’t think so. I mean...what home is there to come back to? Are you and your boyfriend going to get the house? Or will you leave Dad there alone?” Her voice rose with each question. The fact that she and Owen had cleared the air a bit last night seemed to have released all of her emotions. “Maybe you can move in with whatever-his-name-is and start a brand-new family, since our family wasn’t enough for you...”
“That’s enough.” Mom’s voice was sharp. “You’re an adult, so start acting like it.”
Being addressed this way by her mother was unfamiliar. Mom had always been the steady heart of their home, taking care of Kris when she was sick, putting meals on the table every day, picking up after her daughters and smothering them with hugs when they needed them the most. Mom always knew when they’d screwed up, but they usually got hugs for that, too—after a talk about her disappointment. She’d been the ultimate, down-to-earth mountain mom, right down to the homemade flour sack aprons tied over her mom jeans.
“It’s just...” Lucy started, then paused as she let herself into her room and sat on the bed. “Mom, adult or not, I can’t help being angry with you. But you’re right—my sarcasm isn’t helping things, so I’ll try to tone that down. No promises, though.”
Her mother gave a soft chuckle. “You have always been my build-your-wings-on-the-way-down girl. You jump first, then figure out a way to make things work. I thought you were crazy to want to arrange flowers for a living when you had so much potential for greater things. Not to mention a college degree in accounting you don’t want to use.”
Lucy chewed the inside of her cheek to keep from objecting to the idea that numbers didn’t matter in a flower business just because flowers were involved. Her mother kept going.
“But then you settled in Wilmington on a good career track. You had that little parttime flower job on the side and seemed happy. Until you fell in love. Nothing against Owen, but you left a good accounting job just to take a one with his family’s nursery business...”
If she bit her cheek any harder it would be bleeding, so she had to give it up. She did her best to keep her voice level. “Mom, you’re revising history again. I left Wilmington because you put the guilt trip on me to come help with Grandma.”
There was a pause.
“I thought it would be temporary...”
“You mean you thought Grandma Higgins would die sooner rather than later?”
Mom’s voice sharpened again. “Don’t make it sound like that’s what I wished for. I loved her, too. But... I honestly didn’t think I was bringing you back home for good, honey. I didn’t think you’d take that job with the Coopers.”
Lucy stared up at th
e ceiling for a moment before closing her eyes in frustration.
“I’m confused. You called me to tell me to come home, but you didn’t want me to take a job that kept me near home?”
“We’re getting sidetracked here. I called to ask you to come home to your fiancé and live the life you’d planned before you heard about your father and me. You can’t just run away when something makes you unhappy.” She paused. “All you’re doing is proving that your father and I were right to keep our separation quiet. We were afraid you’d do something impulsive, although I never thought you’d abandon your family and friends. Not to mention poor Owen. What were you thinking?”
Mom had a point. It was more than just impulsive to walk out on her own wedding. It was irresponsible. It was also, at the time, the only way Lucy could see to preserve her...if not her sanity, at least her sense of who she was.
“My methods weren’t the best, but Mom... I had to get away. Staying there and calling off the wedding would have been even more dramatic than this...”
“More dramatic? Or just more uncomfortable for you?”
There was compassion in her mother’s voice now, even if the words themselves stung with their honesty. Lucy hadn’t considered that, but it was, of course, the embarrassing truth. Her mother continued. “Honey, I’d never want you to marry someone you didn’t want to be married to. Stopping the wedding before you made a mistake isn’t what upsets me. It’s that you left everyone else to clean up the aftermath. Without so much as an explanation. Or an apology. Or even a goodbye.” Her voice cracked on that last point, and Lucy remembered Owen telling her basically the same thing. She looked up from the edge of the bed and stared at her reflection in the mirror on the wall.
