by Barbara Lohr
Emily jumped right in. “Don’t forget that you were the only one with a real job while we played around in college.”
“You’re just being nice. I’m sure you studied hard.”
“I tried, but did you see me getting a job right out of school?” Emily asked.
But Emily hadn’t come back to Sweetwater Creek after graduation, so Bryn hadn’t seen that firsthand. “You mentioned that you had a hard time. That surprised me.”
Emily’s eyebrows disappeared into her raven bangs. “In the end I had to start my own nutrition service online. It took me a while to get Healthy Meals, Better Life up and running.”
“You couldn’t have done that without college, right?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Emily looked uncertain.
“Trust me, ‘smart’ isn’t all about college credits,” Josie grumbled. “Think of all the people who go right into creating the latest app, without taking time out for college. Or the folks who set up their own business, like you, Bryn.”
“You two are so sweet.” They’d gotten kind of loud. She cast a glance to the marina office and the boats sitting in their slips while their owners lounged on deck, having morning coffee. “I think we better tone it down or they’ll hear us clear down in Georgia.”
When the two of them went off to college, Bryn had felt deserted. Life could play funny tricks on you. Bryn cherished those years with her parents in Sweetwater Creek before the accident took them from her. She’d lived at home. Looking back, that time had been very special.
Her parents’ life insurance policy had funded Bryn’s business. She made no secret of that. How grateful she’d been to her dad for planning ahead, although of course he’d never mentioned it. That was just Daddy.
The sun beat down mercilessly and they retreated from the pier, heading for the long swings lining the walkway. Put there by the Rotary, the swings that fit four people provided pure bliss. Piling onto one, they rocked the swing gently, just enough to send wisps of damp hair springing from her forehead.
“Does Malcolm ever visit you at work?” Josie asked.
“I guess so.” Where was Josie going with this? “Yes, I think he’s stopped a couple times.”
“You think?” Her friend gave her the fisheye again. Malcolm was a tender subject with Josie. In addition to working together, the two of them belonged to the same hiking club. Although Bryn had tried to become more athletic, that just wasn’t her.
When she thought about Trevor just showing up, all earnest and apologetic, she smiled. Emily caught it. “Okay, what’s up with that smile?”
Squinting her eyes, Bryn stared out at the harbor. “It's just that in the past, Trevor and I were on the same track. It felt like old times arranging flowers with him. Every girl needs a male friend.”
Josie got up and shook out her legs. “Back to walking. Let's break a sweat, girls.”
***
That Saturday night as Bryn got ready for a date with Malcolm, she couldn't decide what to wear. The weather continued to be muggy and warm. Since her shop closed at two on Saturdays, she’d been happy to while away an hour or two reading on the glider in her backyard. Up on the deck in the shade of the overhanging liveoak, sat a large plastic dish pan with baby turtles that had joined the earlier hatchling. Sunday she’d release them. The thought made her a little sad. This was the part she always hated. As the afternoon waned, she went inside to change.
After sorting through her clothes, she decided on a light sundress with sprigs of green and purple lavender––another brilliant find at Coralee’s. No way would Bryn ever be able to buy the kind of clothes she found at the consignment shop. The town got the benefit of the city people who idled away their summers in rentals near Butter Bean Beach.
After taking a shower and shampooing her hair, she blew it out into soft waves. Then she hesitated. Should she wear it up? When it came to her hair, Malcolm never seemed to care one way or the other. The sun was setting and outside the crickets called from the tall grass. But the temperature wasn’t dropping so she swept her hair up into a clip.
Finally dressed and ready, Bryn made a final pass at the turtles. When she’d gotten home Friday, a metal wire basket was upside down over a nest Nanny had found. Now her lone turtle had buddies. “You be good to each other, hear me?” Because she was always afraid some roving critter might find them, she placed a cheesecloth over the container at night and scooted the dish pan under the porch bench.
Seeing Nanny Gillum on her back porch next door, Bryn waved. Nanny started over, although the older woman had to take her time coming down the steps.
When she reached Bryn’s hot pink oleander bush blooming at the foot of the deck, Nanny peered up. “You talking to them turtles again?” Her smile sent lines radiating from her eyes. “How many you got there?”
“Seven.” Taking the cheesecloth from the pan, Bryn carefully walked down and held them out for Nanny to see. Her neighbor was such a help with this turtle effort. “I dumped some coffee grounds on the dirt to attract worms. Dug them up later for the turtles, but the hatchlings were still sniffing around, not quite sure what to do.”
“You going to put them in the marsh tomorrow?” Nanny asked.
“Sure am. Probably around ten or so. Want to come and give me moral support?” Nanny always came ambling out when she saw Bryn at the edge of the marsh. But she liked to be invited, as if it were some sacred ceremony.
“I'll see you then,” Nanny said after she’d properly admired the turtles. A light went on in her faded hazel eyes as she took in Bryn’s sundress. “My, oh my. Aren't you all prettied up? You going out tonight with that man of yours?”
“I am,” she said listlessly, plodding back up the steps and putting her babies away for the night. Now, why did she feel like this? Maybe it was the heat.
Nanny’s chuckle followed her up the steps. “Don’t bowl me over with your enthusiasm, girl. If I felt that way about my Wilbur, why we never would've gotten hitched.”
“I suppose not.” Trailing one hand down the stairway, she grabbed snippers from the bottom step and walked out into the yard. Time to deadhead some of her hibiscus that were blooming in orange and pink glory. Nanny disappeared and Bryn got to work. After wasting her late afternoon, she felt as if she had to make up time in the garden. Snip, snip, snip. No use keeping the old buds or she wouldn't have the new ones. Just like every other flower, a hibiscus bush only had so much growing power.
“Thought I’d find you out here.”
Startled, Bryn dropped her dead header and Malcolm swooped down to pick it up. Smiling, he handed it over. “I rang your bell but you didn't answer.”
“Sorry, I was just jawing back here with Nanny. And talking to my newest set of baby turtles.”
“Mind if I look?”
She was surprised. Usually he showed no interest in the little guys, as he called them. “Heck, no. Have at it.” Following him up the cedar stairs, she tucked her dead header in a safe place. “You can give them a look and then meet me out front, okay?”
Nodding, Malcolm headed to the turtles with a sheet of netting. He looked so handsome in a pair of Army green shorts and a blindingly white T-shirt that set off his tan. “You look real nice.”
Thanks.” He sounded surprised. When was the last time she’d complimented him? His greenish hazel eyes flashed against that tan from all his hiking and kayaking. No wonder women loved seeing him at the library. Josie called him “eye candy.”
Once inside, she grabbed her purse and left the light on in the living room. In the time her parents owned this place, her father had added room after room, creating a screen porch on one end and a deck on the other. Over the years, the little cottage that they’d barely been able to afford finally looked like something.
Living in the house where she’d been so happy with her folks gave her comfort. When she sat at the kitchen table, she remembered telling her folks about school or, much later, about her job at Piggly Wiggly. After graduation, s
he didn’t know what lay ahead for her. The job at the register kept her in touch with people. With time her dreams of a floral shop came true. The insurance money had surprised her but got Bryn’s Blooms up and running.
Shutting the front door behind her and locking it, she met Malcolm out front. Hands in the pockets, he stared off into the distance.
“Got something on your mind?” she teased. “You look like you just lost your last friend.”
“Yes. No.” Shaking his head, he gave a little laugh. With his sandy blonde hair, green eyes and muscular build, he was easy on the eyes. A gentleman, he opened the door for her and she slid inside his old Bronco that was always neat as a pin. Her Mini Cooper convertible was usually crammed with buckets, shovels or flowers.
As Bryn and Malcolm sat in the theater that night sharing popcorn, she laughed a lot during the romantic comedy. Usually, after they finished the popcorn, Malcolm set the bag on the floor and settled one of his long arms around her shoulders. But not tonight. About halfway through the movie, she caught him snoozing.
The movie was hilarious. At least, she thought so. But maybe Malcolm was missing the punch lines. He was much more an adventure film guy––the kind of movie that might have Bryn squeezing her eyes shut. When the credits were rolling and the lights came on, Malcolm picked up the empty popcorn bag and guided her past the trash, down the hallway filled with posters of movies yet to come.
“Good night, Cyrus,” he said to the owner, who always stood at the door, as if this were his living room.
“Good night, you two.” Cyrus nodded as they passed.
“Want to get something to eat?” Malcolm asked with a stretch once they were outside.
“I suppose so.” The air-conditioning had made the theater so cold that she welcomed the warm night air.
“Great.” But his mind seemed elsewhere. Was he thinking of the movie, where a girl woke up after a freak accident and didn’t recognize her boyfriend? They never talked about the movies they saw together. Tonight, that struck her as strange.
Down near the marina sat a place called The Shack. When Malcolm pulled into the parking lot and they got out of the car, the smell of fried fish met them. Once they were seated on the deck, she ordered the fish sandwich and so did he. A mister was draped around the roped off area, cooling the air. Up above, a fan circled. In no time the waitress was sliding a basket of hush puppies onto the table, along with two frosty beer mugs.
Breaking open a hush puppy, she slathered it with honey butter. “So how was work this week?” she asked, more out of politeness than anything else. If anything unusual happened at the library, she usually heard about it from Josie.
“Nothing new there.” He took a gulp of his beer and smiled over at her. “How about you?”
“Oh, I went to a lecture Sunday about the changing temperatures. Coastal change.”
“Sounds interesting. Who gave the talk?”
She was about to say “an old friend.” But instead the words came out as “a professor from Asheboro.”
“One of their research scientists, I suppose.” Malcolm waited.
“Yeah, I guess so.” Bryn felt like she was hiding something from him. She broke open another hush puppy.
The waitress arrived with baskets of fish and fries. Although she wasn’t real hungry, she dipped one of her fries in ketchup.
“He probably teaches… some kind of science. Marine biology, I guess. He was really smart.”
Malcolm chuckled. “He’d have to be to teach at a college.”
“He's always been like that. Really smart.” She smiled thinking of Trevor and how he drove teachers crazy with questions they often couldn’t answer.
“Always?” Malcolm asked with a quizzical smile. “So this was someone you know?”
A telltale flush heated her neck. She could imagine what it looked like, speckling her throat and then her cheeks. The chair squeaked when she shifted. “Yeah, what a surprise. The professor was someone I knew back in grade school. I used to live in Asheboro. Think I told you that once a long time ago.”
But Malcolm still looked puzzled. Food forgotten, he sat back in his chair.
How could she explain this? “Even back then, he was real smart. I guess now he’s a professor. A marine biologist, whatever that is.”
Sitting up, Malcolm went back to eating. “Was it interesting? The talk, I mean?”
“Sure. Yes, I guess so.” No way was she going to mention how upset she’d gotten. Bryn couldn’t explain why Trevor made her so mad. Malcolm had pushed his basket aside and was talking about something. Her own chattering mind had kept her from listening. “Did you say camping?”
“Yes. Of course.” The poor guy didn’t disguise his impatience. When he knifed a hand through his wild hair, it practically stood on end. Had she been tuning him out? With the turtles and the shop, she had so much on her mind. “I was just telling you that I'm leaving on that camping trip. We’re headed up to Lake Superior. The group will canoe on the lake and sleep in tents. We’ll eat what we catch.”
Malcolm sounded so excited. “I mentioned this months ago and then again in May. You said you’d think about it.”
“I did?” Things had been so crazy this spring and summer. She looked up into Malcolm’s intense gaze and shrank from the disappointment she saw there.
“I wonder if you want to come with me?”
Was he crazy? “Well, well… of course I’d like to go with you.” Her mind spun. How could she say this without hurting his feelings?
Malcolm’s eyes warmed with hope, making her feel even worse.
“But of course I can’t.” A trek into the wild was absolutely the last thing she could handle right now. “My turtles are hatching. And I have the flower shop.”
And I don’t want to go.
Hope faded from Malcolm's eyes. A flurry of frustration rushed through her. Honestly? If he paid attention to her life, he’d realize she couldn’t just pick up and leave during the summer.
Things got real quiet. Inside the juke box was playing Patsy Cline’s “Crazy.” Crinkling his napkin in his hand, he tossed it into the basket of half eaten food.
Out on the water, a fog horn blasted, low and lonely. “My tummy’s kind of weird tonight,” she said, pushing her unfinished meal aside.
Malcolm didn’t say anything. A moon struggled to rise through the mist. The Shack was perfectly positioned to enjoy the scene. Sometimes they’d try to pick out the lights and guess at what they were. Tonight, they didn’t play that game. Instead, Malcolm paid the bill. On the way to the car, he didn't take her hand. Things felt strange between them. Was this her fault? They drove home in silence. At the front door his kiss was dry and perfunctory, as if his heart just wasn't in it.
And where was her heart, she asked herself as she closed the front door and slumped against it. Bryn didn’t have an answer. All she could think about was Monday.
Chapter 4
Monday morning Bryn walked with the girls as usual but she had to get home because Trevor was coming. No way did she want to share that news. Her friends would ask questions. She had no answers. Her date with Malcolm had left her in a muddle. How could he ever think that she would want to go camping? But he said he’d mentioned it earlier. Had she been totally zoning out on him? She didn’t feel good about that. The walking didn’t help settle her stomach.
Today Bryn felt jittery, and wasn’t that silly? After all, it was only Trevor stopping by. But why? Certainly he had more important things to do. She wasn’t involved in any study––nothing as grand as that.
“Want to walk past Victoria’s Pantry to see what she's offering this week?” Emily asked. No one needed to answer. On their way over, they paused in front of Coralee’s consignment shop. “I'm so glad that Victoria brings her old clothes here,” said Emily. “The styles aren’t out of date. She’s just tired of them.”
“That fashionista?” Josie chuckled. “Old to Victoria means about one season.”
They marched along, heat shimmering from the walkway. “Can you imagine how impossible it would be to walk any later than this?” Josie grumbled. “I can hardly breathe.”
Her friend was right. Bryn had to spritz her plants outside every couple of hours to keep them from drooping. And they weren’t selling quickly. Who wanted to garden in this heat?
The three came to a halt in front of the plate glass window. Every day Victoria posted a special menu. Maisy, one of her employees, scripted Today’s Menu. “Pecan chicken salad, crabmeat sliders, orzo and shrimp salad,” Josie read.
“You’re making me hungry,” Bryn groaned. “How can I lose weight?”
“Lemon meringue pie,” Emily added in a dreamy voice.
“Not the chocolate silk you love so much,” Bryn reminded her.
“Just a thin slice.” Emily had been seduced into a sugar haze.
The list went on and on. Josie turned to Emily. “So, how many of these recipes are yours?”
Squinting at the piece of parchment taped to the window, Emily grinned. “Maybe half.” Bryn and Josie laughed. Emily had helped out Victoria when she'd opened. That girl didn't know a mixer from a mosquito. From what Emily had told Bryn, she was totally hopeless and had opened the pantry only to please her daddy. Emily had stepped in to help.
The girls moved on. They turned up Rookery Road to pass Bryn's Blooms. Bryn couldn’t help glancing at her watch.
“You don’t open until noon, right?” Josie asked.
“I’m just thinking of everything I have to do today.” Like shower before Trevor gets here.
Down at the shoreline, a breeze skimmed over the water, moist and warm. The three walked in silence, trekking out to the end of the pier and back, giving Billy a wave. Bryn’s mind was on her outfit when Josie broke her concentration. “How was your date with Malcolm Saturday night?”
“Are you my mother?” Bryn snapped. Josie’s needling was so irritating. “Sorry. Didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Just wondering.” Josie tried to look innocent and failed.
