by Barbara Lohr
“Understandable. Still, we missed you.”
Who missed her? The kids who teased her unmercifully because she never had the newest clothes? Never said the right thing? “I made good friends here, including two of the women at that opening of Victoria’s Pantry.”
“Right. Emily.” Trevor’s eyebrows rose. “Quite a night.”
Big mistake. Bryn never should have mentioned it. That night Emily only had eyes for Jackson. “Sorry. Still allergic to cats?”
He rubbed one arm. “Unfortunately, yes. It’s not like the measles. I mean, it doesn’t go away.”
“Of course. Sorry.” That must have been a horrible night for him.
But Trevor laughed. “I was only in Emily's apartment for a few minutes but I ended up with her cat’s hair on me. Even with cortisone cream, my skin itched for days.”
“That must be awful.” She couldn't imagine being allergic to cats. “And Sasha’s such a sweetheart.”
“Yeah, well.” In the end Emily ended up with Jackson.
Trevor gave a forgiving chuckle and she laughed along with him.
“So what do you do here in town?” His eyes swept her left hand. “No husband at home? No babysitter waiting for you?”
He’d hit on a sensitive subject. “Nope. No husband. No children. Guess I’m a late bloomer.”
Her chuckle fell flat. Meanwhile, Trevor got this distant look in his eyes, like he was peering into the past and didn’t like what he saw. “I’d say you’re smart.”
Wow. The poor guy. What had his ex done to him?
But he recovered quickly. “So, no cats to keep you company?”
“No, just... other pets I care for very much.”
Women brushed past, their stares willing him to turn. Crossing his arms over that broad chest, he smiled down at her. “Let me guess. You have a dog.”
Was this a test?
As a little boy, Trevor’s constant questions could be irritating. He’d keep digging for answers. Scientific discovery or something like that. Might as well put it right out there. “I have turtles. Well, not all the time. Right now I only have the eggs. Quite a few.” Gulping, she thought of the pots and battered pans full of sand sitting on her back deck.
Trevor’s lips opened and closed, as if he were trying to find the words, the right response. She should leave. At least three other women were waiting to talk to him. But Trevor didn’t budge.
She wasn’t giving up. “How about you?” Emily had mentioned Trevor’s background but she wanted to hear it from him.
“No pets. Two little girls.” Here his lips tipped up in an adorable way that tugged at her heart. “Divorced.”
Before she could say another word, Trevor moved right along. “So what do you do here in Sweetwater Creek? I mean, besides collect turtles?” His chuckle faded when she didn’t laugh.
“I have a floral shop.”
His uncertainty mellowed into a warm smile. “That sounds like you, Bryn. You were the girl who wore dandelions in your hair.”
Thinking back to the dandelions edging the playground, she blushed. She must have looked so stupid in the crown he’d braided for her in second grade. He’d called her his queen.
“I guess I should get going. You have people waiting for you.”
When Trevor gently took her arm, heat sizzled across her skin. “No, stay. I want to hear more about your turtles.”
Casting a nervous glance at the clutch of women, Bryn said in a low voice, “The diamondback turtles are my pets. My responsibility right now. That's why I asked about the marsh and, you know, the future.”
His eyes widened, as if she’d admitted she had ET hiding in her closet. “Your turtles.” Did he have to talk so loud? The other women turned. Obviously they’d heard him. “Wild terrapins. In your house?”
“Kind of.” Trevor still could be aggravating. Terrapins? Her tiny turtles?
The shock on his face made her uncomfortable. Were there rules about wild turtles? She had to get out of here. Brushing aside the broken handles, she dug into her purse and found the car keys. Her hands were trembling.
The frown had deepened on Trevor's forehead. “For those turtles, it's like you have them in a zoo.”
That comment formed a hard knot in her stomach. When they were little, Trevor and Bryn had deep conversations about how sad it was that animals were penned up at the zoo. The Newberry County Zoo held no charm for them. She’d almost cried to see the elephants swaying in the sun when they should be out on this huge pampa somewhere.
MissTallandLeggy was tapping her toe and looking at her watch.
Bryn backed away. “I should go.” Trevor could never understand. Her little turtles? She was saving their lives. At least, she liked to think so.
“Bryn, wait...” Trevor seemed to be thinking. But Bryn didn't want to hear anymore from him tonight. With a little wave, she left.
When she reached the big double doors, she turned. Three other women were crowded around Trevor. That's probably the way his life went right now. Her old friend wasn't that skinny little guy who liked science anymore. No, he’d turned into the science whiz who could lecture a crowd and have women hanging on his every word.
But she’d liked sharing memories with him, until he mentioned her babies.
Nobody messed with Bryn’s babies.
***
All the way back to Asheboro, Trevor went through the usual assessment of his speech. Had he used his PowerPoint effectively? Did he answer questions adequately? How he hated doing public speeches, but they were mandated for the grants he needed to a keep the coastal conservancy going. Placement in the paper was critical. Before the presentation he’d been interviewed by both the Asheboro Newsdispatch and the Sweetwater Gazette. Photos would run alongside and Trevor would have more proof for his continuing studies in the lab.
But his thoughts weren’t on the lab, his microscope or the slides he had waiting. Trevor couldn’t stop thinking about Bryn Peachum and those outrageous copper curls framing intense green eyes. Her sweet sundress. The porcelain skin that gave him goosebumps. Glancing at the speedometer, he lifted his foot off the accelerator.
Bryn had been almost disturbingly attentive. But he didn’t feel like he’d answered her questions. And that bothered him.
Seeing her had brought back the old times. He relaxed in the bucket seat, remembering how much fun she’d been in grade school. So inquisitive but sweet with that halo of red hair. Some days she’d come to school with a ton of barrettes holding down the curls she hated. One day he’d released every barrette, just to see her hair fly. She’d gotten so upset. Following the yellow line on the two-lane highway, he laughed.
But her parents had died in some awful crash. He’d read about it online. Their car had been forced off one of the bridges by a hit and run driver who was never found. That must have been really hard for her. Worse than his own father’s heart attack when he was in eighth grade.
After noticing her in the crowd, her shiny auburn hair had been the only head he’d seen. What a surprise to see her there. After running into her at that open house, accepting this invitation to speak had been easy. Sweetwater Creek held an appeal.
He should think about that. Were his reasons for coming professional or personal? Maybe he’d make up a list. In his head, he heard Byrn laughing.
But who was he kidding? A sweet woman like Bryn with no entanglements would never go for a guy like him. He gunned it.
Chapter 2
“I didn’t know you were into lectures,” Bryn’s friend Emily said as they walked the following morning. She’d just told Emily and Josie that she’d gone to Trevor’s presentation.
Summer had come to Sweetwater Creek. The air closed around them like a wet fleece blanket. By noon all you could hear was the razor-thin cry of locusts. Even the moss hung lifeless from the trees, as if exhausted by the soaring temperatures. In heat like this, morning was the only cool time to walk.
Josie had organized the walking this
spring when Emily returned to Sweetwater Creek after a long stint in the city. The three high school friends became a team again.
“I went because I needed information.” That was all she was sharing.
Josie threw her a cautious look. “Right. You glow when you mention Trevor's name. You're not about to break Malcolm’s heart, are you?”
“That’s crazy. Trevor and I were kids together. An ad for his talk ran in the Sweetwater Gazette. I had some questions for him.”
“Like what?” Emily asked as they circled the four-sided square, peeking into shop windows.
She blew out a breath. “Climate change. You know, how it might affect our coastline.” Hurricanes had hit Sweetwater Creek more than once in recent years, sending storm surges through the streets. Lower lying homes had been flooded. Lawns and curbs had been heaped with damaged furniture and family mementos.
“Did Trevor have any good news?” Josie asked.
“Not really,” Bryn said softly. They’d reached Coralee’s, the consignment shop where she’d bought her sundress and the purse she’d ruined.
Morning sunlight glanced off the display window where Coralee had paired a yellow top with green shorts patterned with sunflowers. Colorful sundresses provided a backdrop, along with some shimmery cocktails dresses. A peach one caught her eye. “Do you think I’d look good in that?”
“Fabulous,” Josie said “Got any place special to go?”
“You could wear it to my wedding,” Emily said softly.
“What?” Josie whipped around.
Bryn could hardly catch her breath. “Are you kidding?”
Emily held up her left hand where a beautiful marquise diamond sparkled. How had they missed that? They squealed and hugged each other. “Will you both be my maids of honor?”
“Of course, of course!” They studied the ring.
Bryn squelched an unexpected twinge of jealousy. “When’s the wedding?”
“Next month.” Emily gave a little shrug. “Why wait?”
“Absolutely,” Josie said. All three of them were about to turn thirty.
Bryn felt her pulse speed up. Whatever Emily was feeling, Bryn wanted that. That sparkle in her eyes. The glow that surrounded her. Was that how she felt about Malcolm after two years? She wasn’t sure.
“Let’s cut across the square to the fountain.” Josie headed across the street with Emily and Bryn trailing behind. “This heat is getting to me and it’s just past eight.”
The square was the heart of Sweetwater Creek. Lucky Emily lived on the second floor of a building facing the historic plot of land. In the center of the square, a three-tiered fountain splashed invitingly. As they drew closer, the cool mist felt wonderful on Bryn’s skin.
Josie groaned, turning into the spray. “I’d do anything to live near the fountain. Emily, what will happen to your apartment after you get married?”
Emily gave a shake of her head, glancing toward the building that housed her apartment, right above Victoria’s Pantry. “Victoria's got dibs on that. She couldn’t wait to tell me.”
“That makes sense.” But it didn’t sit right with Bryn. She had mixed feelings about Victoria Pomeroy. For a while that space under Emily’s apartment had been vacant and Bryn had wanted it desperately it for her floral business. But Victoria’s family had scooped it up. “After all, her business is right downstairs.”
“Like that matters. Victoria is never ready to open the store at ten o’clock.” Emily rolled her eyes. She was up early every day, working on her nutrition blog. “Maisy opens up for her. When white bakery trucks come rumbling down the alley, Maisy’s there to meet them.”
Leaving the square behind, they traveled familiar roads with no curbs and very little traffic. The smell of the sea drew them to the marina. “Let's walk out on the pier,” she suggested, already starting out.
Their footsteps echoed on the weathered boards that stretched out to a wide T. Not a breeze to be had out here. Bryn ran a hand through her heavy hair, wishing she’d tied it up. Her ratty pink T-shirt felt plastered to her body. They waved to Billy, manager of the marina. With his scruffy beard and a pipe hanging from his mouth, he knew everyone by name. After giving them a lazy wave, he went back to coiling up a thick rope.
Some of the boats were long gone. The fishermen left before dawn so that they’d be positioned and ready to fish when the sun came up.
When the three of them reached the end of the pier, they hung over the railing. The weathered wood felt dry and warm as she peered down into the bay. In the watery depths, schools of smaller fish darted into sight and skittered away. When she was little, she would let her feet hang over the edge. The fish would nibble her toes, tickling her until she burst into giggles.
“Back to Trevor.” Emily jerked Bryn’s attention from the past. “Did he answer your question?”
“Not really.” Bryn didn’t want to get all sappy about her turtles. “I wanted to know what would happen to the wildlife. You know, if the water heats up.”
Emily smiled softly. “Ah, sweetie. Is this personal?
“Yes, it is.” Why did she have to defend her turtles all the time?
Josie hitched a shoulder. “Bryn, you’re doing a great job. But only a percentage of them survive anyway.”
Pushing off the railing, Bryn turned to leave. “They’re so tiny and helpless.”
“Did you tell Trevor about the project?” Josie asked.
“Sort of. It was crowded, all right?” Bryn brushed a wisp of hair from her forehead.
“But he’s a marine biologist. This is right up his alley.” Josie laughed. “Or down his stream.”
Bryn didn’t find the remark funny. “From what he said, he works in the lab, looking into a microscope. And he teaches classes.”
“Maybe you should show him the marsh out back of your house,” Emily said with a wicked smile. “Make him more aware of your world.”
“I don’t expect to see him again.” Thank goodness they’d reached Moonglade Road. Bryn waved good-bye. Emily and Josie were on their way. Time to clean up and get to the shop. She had work to do before it opened.
After a quick shower she slipped into her usual work uniform, denim shorts and a peach colored top with long sleeves because she freckled so easily. Before leaving for her shop, she had to patrol the back yard, looking for signs that a mama turtle may have left some eggs. Then she skipped up to her deck to give her pots a close look. Nothing seemed disturbed. But as she watched the sand peaked and her breath caught in her throat. Could she hope? Checking the popsicle stick, the date seemed right, about sixty days since Bryn or Nanny, her neighbor, had found the egg.
Was this what a mother felt like when she gave birth? Putting a hand to her tummy, she felt a chill skitter down her back. Sure enough, a tiny turtle struggled to heave itself from the sand. Bryn watched as the little guy dug its way out with those prehistoric claws and promptly began nosing around the big washtub. She glanced up at the skies. If she left him here, one of the hawks would surely swoop down and grab him. Scooping up one of the empty buckets piled in the corner of her deck, she added a layer of sand, some grass. Later she’d look for small insects. Then she reached for her baby.
“You are such a handsome little thing,” she cooed, before lowering the turtle into the sand. His little legs were working.
In the next yard, Nanny Gillum was pruning her bushes. The chop, chop, chop carried in the June air. When Nanny looked over, Bryn held up the bucket.
Setting down her shears, Nanny started across the yard in her farmer jeans, skirting the low-lying bushes. Dressed in her usual beekeeper hat and long sleeves, she wore her Army boots. Bryn didn’t know how she could stand that get-up in this heat, but a copperhead had bitten her some time ago. Now she took precautions.
“Any activity in your sand pits?” Bryn asked Nanny.
“No activity. Not that I can see.” Since Nanny’s husband had been in the Army, she always talked in military terms. “But I'll do a swee
p of the area later today. Keep your phone handy.”
Bryn held up her bucket. “Will you look at this? Our first baby.”
Throwing back her netting, Nanny dipped her head. “A bit early, don’t you think?”
“Who knows about nature? Don't know what I'd do without you.” Nanny always kept an eye out for mama turtles, as well as the critters that might raid a nest.
Nanny waved her off with one claw-like hand. With her wrinkles and bent figure, she seemed almost as prehistoric as the turtles. Nanny and her husband Wilbur had been close friends of her parents.
But it was time to go. “Give me a call if you need me.” Pushing away from the railing, she went inside and grabbed her tote. With the bucket swinging from her other arm, she got in her red Mini Cooper, set the bucket on the floor and drove to Bryn’s Blooms.
Parking her car in the space behind the shop, Bryn decided life didn't get much better than this. Sure, sometimes she wished she had someone to share all this with. Emily’s ring got her thinking. A strange longing twisted deep inside.
Maybe some day, she’d share her life with Malcolm. Did feelings need time to grow into lifelong love? Her parents had married young. They’d known each other forever and getting married right out of high school seemed natural and right. At least, that’s what Bryn’s mama had told her.
After unlocking the back door, she gave it a nudge with one hip. Jolly Jenkins would be here soon with fresh stock. Whispering reassurances to her turtle baby, she stowed her tote under the register. Then she carefully put the pail on the work counter in the back room. No way would she release this little guy to the marsh until he had a brother or sister to accompany him. With Bryn’s help, they would soon be burrowed safely in the gray mud.
Dying for coffee, she put a pot on in the back. Then she propped open the front door and studied her window display. The pansies and peonies had given way to generous pots of blue plumbago alongside blue and red salvia. Pansies would never make it in the Carolina heat.
When Jolly got here, she wanted to plunk the flowers right in the front on her metal racks where they’d catch people’s eyes. She checked her watch. Almost ten o'clock. Where was Jolly? Just as she was going to dash inside to check on her newborn, the rumble of a pickup truck caught her attention. Sure enough, Jolly lurched to a halt and rolled out of the truck, bent over like a paperclip. Bryn loved this guy fiercely, even when he was late.
