by Barbara Lohr
How could she bring back those smiles? “Do you think it’s time to let the turtles go off into the marsh?”
“Yes. Yes!” cried Daisy.
“Do we get to hold them before we do that?” Annabelle asked.
“Of course.” Bryn saw more time in the powder room coming up but what the heck.
The look Trevor gave her was one of gratitude and relief. Smiling at each other, they could have been back in fifth grade, helping each other prepare for the spelling bee. Of course, Trevor won. Bryn came in second. None of that mattered today. But that history together felt mighty nice.
After retrieving her dish pan of hatchlings, she led the girls across the grass. With Trevor falling behind, she talked to the turtles, as she always did. The children listened carefully. “You're going out into the big world. But not right away. No, you’ll be in the marsh where everything is possible. You'll have lunch and dinner handy all the time.” Then she said a silent prayer that her darlings did not become lunch or dinner.
“What are they going to eat?” Daisy asked, always curious. Bryn imagined Trevor was kept busy answering all their questions.
Panicked for a second, she glanced over at him. “Lots of things. The marsh grass is full of lots of...interesting plants.” That was just for starters.
They were passing a big liveoak, surrounded by sand. This was one of her key breeding grounds and she stopped. “Let's see if a mama turtle has laid any eggs today.”
Trevor leaned against the tree, watching her search. Her skin prickled under his gaze. She sure hoped she had this right. There was nothing scientific about what she did. Surely in his lab, things were a lot fancier than a old dish tub and the battered spoon she used to dig up the eggs.
She scanned the sand, looking for the swirl of a webbed foot. “When they come to bury their eggs, they dig a deep hole with one of their hind feet. Those feet are like shovels with big claws.”
“Could they hurt you?” Daisy's blue eyes had grown large.
“No,” Bryn said quickly. “They’re just for digging. And when they’re finished, they cover up their tracks so the eggs are safe until we find them.”
But she didn't see any swirling marks in the sand. And if Nanny had found any over in her yard, she would've alerted Bryn. There were no baskets tipped upside down in the sandy areas. “Guess there aren’t any new eggs today. I have a friend in the next house. Nanny Gillum comes over to help me.”
“Is she your nanny?” Daisy wrinkled her nose.
“Oh no, honey. The children in the neighborhood just started calling her Nanny a long time ago. At least, that’s what my mother told me.”
They'd reached the edge of the marsh where the lawn ended and a weathered pier reached out into the water. Trevor studied the beat-up blue boat that had belonged to Daddy. “Does that work? Do you take that boat out much?”
She laughed. “If two oars can be considered working, then yes, it works.”
With the girls hovering around her, Bryn set the pan down. “The tide is low right now so the little turtles can find their way. They bury themselves in the marsh. And then they won't be green anymore. They become the color of the mud, like their mama.”
“Yuk,” Annabelle said.
“Gross,” Daisy added. For once they were in agreement on something.
“They pick up these scientific terms at playschool,” Trevor murmured to Bryn.
Annabelle was frowning. “But they won't be pretty anymore.”
Daisy looked equally upset. “I like all that squiggly stuff on their back.”
From the amused look on Trevor’s face, Bryn figured he was glad that she was in the hot seat here, not him. “The designs do get covered with gray mud but it protects them.”
“That marsh looks so big.” Daisy looked out over the tall grass that seemed to stretch forever. “If we put the baby turtles in, how will they ever find their mama?”
Behind her, Bryn felt Trevor shift. This must be so hard to hear. She struggled to remember the story about the girls’ mother. Those tiny hopeful faces make her take a big leap with absolutely no scientific proof. “Yes, they'll find their mother in the marsh. That’s just...the beauty of nature.”
This was a total lie and Trevor knew it. Looking down at these sweet little twins, Bryn wondered how their mother had ever left them behind. Would they be scarred forever by that kind of abandonment?
Would they be like these turtle babies? Only a certain percentage of these little guys made it to adulthood. One glance at Trevor’s bleak expression told her he knew that much and more. While her stomach plummeted, Bryn turned her attention to the matter at hand. In the dish pan, the hatchlings scrabbled to meet their fate. “Guess we’d better get going.”
Both girls lifted one baby turtle in their hands, whispering to them and saying heaven’s knew what. Bryn pointed to a spot with easy access. Crouching down, Annabelle and Daisy each sent their little turtle off. Somehow the hatchlings negotiated the tall marsh grass with amazing ease, followed by the other three. Of course the girls argued about who got to handle the last one.
Within minutes all five were gone. The tall seagrass reeds whispered against each other.
“Where did they go?” Daisy looked crestfallen.
“They’re with their mother.” Annabelle stood, dusting off her hands.
“You know, I think you’re right, Annabelle.” The thought seemed to bring comfort for both of them.
But Trevor still stared at the marsh. Did he miss his wife? Then he gave his head a little shake. “How about we wash our hands?”
“Excellent idea.” Clapping her hands together, Bryn led the way back to the house, showing them the picking garden on the way. By the time they reached the deck, Daisy had wiped her hands off on her shorts. Annabelle held hers in front of her, fingers outstretched as if they were covered in mud, which they weren’t.
Once on the deck, Bryn, slid the pan under the bench seat. The day was beautiful, the ground dappled with sunlight that heated the sand. Soon more babies would appear. That was the fun of this whole process.
Then all three of them marched into the small powder room and began the disinfecting again. Trevor stayed behind, staring out from the deck as if he were still searching for the hatchlings.
Seeing him standing there, so handsome but forlorn, Bryn hesitated. Maybe this had been a bad idea. By the time the girls had finished washing their hands and had dried them on the one turtle towel, Bryn knew she had to do something to erase those glum looks. “Want to rock on my glider for a little bit?”
“Yes, oh yes.” Daisy and Annabelle took off for the glider with Bryn right behind them. The creaky old thing was in serious need of a new paint job.
His eyes never leaving his daughters, Trevor came up alongside her. “The glider looks familiar. Did you bring that over from Asheboro?”
“Yep,” she said with satisfaction. “I pleaded with my daddy. But I think he wanted it over here as much as I did. After all, he made it with his own two hands. Just don’t fall off and split your head open, Trevor, like you did years ago.”
His face flushed. “That was a long time ago.” Bringing a hand up, he traced the barely visible scar partially hidden by a shock of hair. “My parents wouldn’t let me come over to your house for a while after that.”
“I remember.” She’d been miserable without her best friend for those couple of months until his folks relented.
But sad memories were best left behind. The girls were settled into the glider, one on either side. But their little sandaled feet couldn’t reach the floor to push it. With Trevor on one side and Bryn taking the seat opposite him, they had it going in no time.
Despite the warm weather, a cool breeze came from the marsh. The rhythm of the glider always brought Bryn comfort. That must be why she’d kept it.
Resting his head back, Trevor closed his eyes. The poor man looked exhausted, sandy lashes feathered over his cheeks. But his strong legs worked the glider, while
his lips tipped into a little boy smile. The heat spiraling through her stomach surprised her.
“Remember all the times we sat on this glider, Trevor?” Bryn settled back.
“Sure do.” Opening his eyes, Trevor smiled.
Before he could answer Daisy said, “You did?”
Bryn chuckled. “Yes, we did. Your father would tell those awful knock-knock jokes.”
“Daddy told jokes?” Annabelle looked positively amazed.
“They were awful?” Daisy’s face twisted on the last word.
“Not really. Knock, knock,” Bryn said teasingly.
Trevor gave his head a little shake. “Who’s there?”
“Cash.” Bryn started giggling.
“Cash who?” Trevor said with a sly smile.
“No thanks, but I’ll take some peanuts.” Bryn and Trevor laughed together.
“I don’t think that’s funny,” Annabelle said. Bryn wasn’t sure she got it.
But Daisy was giggling. Shaking his head, Trevor exchanged an amused look with Bryn, as if to say how could you have done that? For a second or two they rocked back and forth, smiling at each other like kids again.
Suddenly a hummingbird came whirling along to light on the bottle brush tree. Annabelle gave a tiny yelp. “Look, Daddy. A bee.”
“Oh, that’s a humming bird, Annabelle.” Another humming bird had joined the first. “They love the bottle brush tree. That’s why my mother planted one there. She loved to sit here and watch the hummingbirds.”
She didn't know how long they rocked on the glider but that time together felt so peaceful. Looking over at Trevor, she wondered if he felt that way too. She hated to see the afternoon end but time had slipped away.
Finally, Trevor leaned forward, slowing the glider with his feet. “Time to leave, girls. Your grandmother’s coming for dinner and I'm going to grill.”
Both girls groaned. “Grandma? Again?” Daisy stepped from the glider with Bryn’s help.
That didn't sit well with Trevor, who was helping Annabelle step down. Then he took Bryn’s hand as if she couldn’t manage by herself. The heat of his palm swirled through her body. Trevor looked startled, like he felt it too. He sucked in a breath and looked down at the girls as if to recall what he’d been saying. “Your grandmother cares about you very much,” he told the girls. “And Sunday dinner for her is a special treat.”
She hated to let go. For a second they stood there. Trevor glanced down as if he didn’t know how their hands had become entwined. Was she wearing the same dazed smile on her face? He dropped her hand, but their shoulders bumped comfortably together as they walked toward the driveway. This had been a perfect afternoon. The twins climbed into the back seat of Trevor's jeep and he buckled them up. His care for them was evident in every small gesture.
Catching Bryn’s eye from the back seat, Daisy said, “Do you think we could come again, Bryn? Can we see the turtles again this summer?”
“Now girls, this was a special day.” Trevor looked embarrassed. “We don’t want to be pests.”
“Daddy, we’re not pests,” Daisy said, as if the very thought was ridiculous.
“Of course you can come back.” A hot flush worked up Bryn’s neck. One flick of Trevor’s eyes and he smiled, his eyes resting on her skin. He knew just what that faint color meant.
Clapping her hands together, Bryn felt nerves leap under her skin. She’d have to get out the lawn mower to work off this adrenaline rush. But all she really wanted to do was go back to the glider.
Trevor was ready to leave. “Thanks, Bryn.” For a second, she thought he might hug her.
For a dizzying moment she wondered how those strong arms would feel around her.
As he looked down at her, he looked boyish but, at the same time, a responsible adult. A father. Somehow he’d outpaced her. Sure, he still had some of his annoying habits. But he’d been so sweet to his girls. They may not have a mother but they scored a winner with this man for a dad. Trevor the geek had turned into Trevor the devoted parent.
“Thanks for letting me take up your entire Sunday.” He didn’t look in a hurry to leave.
“No problem. I don’t get to share my turtles with other people very much.”
“Oh, but you should.”
“My store keeps me pretty busy.” She dropped her eyes to study her toes. “If I didn’t have my neighbor looking out for things, I wouldn’t be able to tend to them as much as I do.”
“Of course. Well...” He backed away. “Talk to you soon?”
The comment brought a flutter of her heart.
“Sure, right.” Nodding, she felt a strange thrill. As she watched them drive away, she told herself that this fluttery excitement in her chest was because she’d enjoyed his girls so much. But in her heart she was starting to realize it was more than that.
***
All the way home, Annabelle and Daisy bombarded Trevor with questions. He was going to have to read up on turtles. But he was happy about their interest in creatures that lived in the marsh. Did turtles have birthdays? How big did they get? Would they have babies too one day?
Then the questions turned to their mother. And then he wasn’t so happy.
“Will Mommy visit us soon?” Tears choked Daisy’s voice.
“I’m sure she will one day. She’s very busy working.” How lame. Delia was self absorbed, not busy.
“Or maybe we could visit her?” Annabelle asked with wistful hope.
He swallowed hard. This was a tough one. The jeep tires hummed on the road as his mind searched for the right answer. No way would he let the Strattons take his daughters to Europe. And he sure didn’t plan on going over there with the twins. He might get there and Delia would be off to Italy, or some such nonsense. Her parents were so evasive. He suspected she’d gotten into trouble. “We’ll see.”
One glance in the mirror told him that answer hadn’t gone over well. “How did you like Bryn?”
“I love her!” Daisy bounced in her seat.
“She’s pretty.” Annabelle twirled a curl around her finger. “Bryn’s got lots of curls.”
“Yes, she does.” Soft curls, although he hadn’t touched them. But she was more than pretty. Bryn had an impressive store of knowledge and experience. Certainly there must be groups that would benefit from hearing about her work.
“Is Bryn your friend, Daddy?” Daisy asked.
He felt caught unaware by the question. “Yes, an old friend. I’ve know her since, well, since I was your age.” But there were pockets of years unaccounted for. When she moved to Sweetwater Creek, she was a little girl with freckles. How he’d envied her back then. Her parents would let her do just about anything while Trevor’s parents were always setting rules.
Their high school experiences were probably totally different. For him those years were filled with constant arguments with his mother. His father had expected him to become a surgeon. His mother had tried to make that become a reality.
Once in college, he buried himself in science but chose marine biology. Begrudgingly, his mother supported him.
“Knock, knock,” Daisy said from the back seat. Head bobbing, Annabelle was almost asleep.
“Who’s there?” He couldn’t wait to hear this one.
“Bryn.”
“Bryn who?”
“Bryn, your friend!” Daisy crowed with delight. He laughed. Maybe it took time to learn the game of knock knock.
The jeep gradually fell silent. Checking the girls in his rearview mirror, he saw that they’d fallen asleep. They’d had a great day. But it wasn’t the turtles that had made it special. No, Bryn’s childlike excitement awakened feelings he hadn’t had in a long time. When had he lost that simple appreciation of life? She’d made him laugh, especially when she cracked that crazy knock, knock joke. Now his own daughters were doing it, bringing him back to his childhood.
But he’d make theirs better. More fun. If he could handle more fun.
So Annabelle liked Bryn’s
pretty reddish hair that was more like copper now. Yes, he definitely thought it was copper. Would that be due to her diet? He’d have to read up on that. The hair fluffed around her shoulders and shone against skin so pale that he could see a blue vein in her forehead. He smiled, remembering how her skin turned pink when he took her hand.
Oh man. He’d missed the turn-off to Asheboro.
Chapter 7
“This feels decadent.” Bryn enjoyed her chocolate croissant slowly, crumbs clinging to her lips. After a brisk walk that left them sweaty, she’d collapsed in Victoria’s Pantry with Emily and Josie. “We should feel guilty,” she told her friends, licking her fingers.
“Guilt is a waste of time.” Josie took another bite of her ricotta cheese pastry.
Swallowing the last of her pastry, Emily blotted her lips. “I thought guilt was a moral compass. You know, telling us we might be on the wrong track.”
“Maybe.” Bryn was having trouble focusing on the conversation. Yesterday was still on her mind. Daisy and Annabelle and the way her childhood friend interacted with them filled her heart...and left so many questions. How did Trevor feel about his ex-wife? Did he wish she’d return to their family?
“Do you think this cancels out the calories we burned walking?” Josie took a sip of her sweet tea.
Emily tapped her glass. “Peach tea counts as a fruit, right, Bryn?”
“What?” She felt her face flush.
“Where’s your mind this morning?” Josie grinned at her across the glass-topped table. “Is Emily right? Can peach tea be considered a fruit?”
“She’s the nutritionist.” Bryn lifted her glass and sipped, trying to settle her mind.
Looking gorgeous, Victoria Pomeroy sauntered through her establishment. “Everything all right over here, girls?”
“Doing great,” Bryn told her. “Thanks to your croissants.”
“All those hours working on the buttery dough,” Emily teased, exchanging a look with Victoria. When the attractive blonde was working on opening her shop in the spring, the two had gone from being enemies to frenemies.
“That'll be the day and you know it.” Looking really cute in her green apron with the shop’s name scripted in white, Victoria gave Emily a thumbs up. The truth was, Victoria could barely boil water. But with Emily’s help, she’d managed to line up vendors who provided the goodies sold in the increasingly popular Victoria’s Pantry.
