by Amanda Tru
Geneva looked quite troubled. “But that’s sad, Brooke! You know how Sydney is, and she was certain that he was quite enamored with you! You should at least give him a chance!”
“You do know the reputation of Dylan Masters, right?” Brooke questioned. There was no way any woman could live in the area and have not at least heard of its most eligible bachelor.
“Yes, of course,” Geneva said, restlessly pushing her blonde locks away from her face. “I’ve seen him around town, and a few of my friends have dated him briefly. But I also know he doesn’t look at other women the way he looks at you. Maybe he’s changed.”
“Maybe not,” Brooke said, her doubt apparent.
“And you’re not willing to take the risk and find out,” Geneva stated flatly. It wasn’t even a question. It was a diagnosis.
“No, I’m not,” Brooke confirmed.
“Living your life in fear seems like a sad way to do it,” Geneva’s soft words were casual, but they carried a strange tension. Though she appeared almost distracted, glancing over at the other ladies finding seats in the circle, Brooke got the impression that she was greatly troubled by their conversation.
“Maybe,” Brooke said, not bothering to try to analyze Geneva’s issues. “But I’ve been burned before.”
Geneva actually flinched. “Yes, I know,” she said, her voice low and her eyes not meeting Brooke’s. “And now you’ll have to forgive me for attempting to do penance for that mistake.”
“Is that what your Dylan Masters investigation was about?” Brooke asked with sudden clarity. “Gen, it isn’t something that I am upset about. It was long ago, and I’m very thankful now that I didn’t end up with Andy. You kinda did me a favor.”
“I understand that.” Geneva finally met Brooke’s gaze. “I also understand that you haven’t seriously dated anyone else since then. So there’s no way I can’t feel that the fear keeping you frozen, unable to take a risk, is at least partially my fault.
“Gen—”
“Thanks for the diaper cake, Brooke,” she said, breaking eye contact. “It looks like the party is getting ready to start. I’d better run.”
Brooke sighed and reluctantly turned to the door. She hadn’t realized that Geneva carried around such guilt where she was concerned. She honestly didn’t have hard feelings toward her sister, and wished there was a way to make things better. But she didn’t know what to do or say. The only thing she did know was that this wasn’t the time or place.
She had almost made it to the front door when a figure stepped out from one of the side hallways and headed to the door a few feet ahead of her.
“Dylan?” she called, recognizing the broad shoulders and dark hair.
Dylan turned. “Brooke!” he said, obviously surprised to see her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I was here about some business with the community center’s manager,” he answered. “What about you?”
“I was just dropping off a diaper cake for a baby shower. Geneva wanted me to make one as a gift.”
“Oh, I think I remember her asking you at Thanksgiving,” Dylan said.
Brooke nodded, but then was at a bit of a loss of what to say. Finally, she jumped in, “It’s good to see you. I thought I’d run into you at church, but I haven’t.”
“Oh, I’ve been there,” Dylan said. “But my schedule changed and I’ve been going to a different service. I even stopped and met with the pastor last week.”
“That’s great!” said Brooke.
But then Dylan didn’t say anything else.
And she didn’t feel like she could ask anything else. If he didn’t want to share, then it would be rude to press him.
Dylan shifted from one foot to another, as if he didn’t know what to say either. He really seemed uncharacteristically lost. Dylan had called her a few times since Thanksgiving, but they had all been rather awkward conversations where he had simply asked about her job search.
The silence stretched between them, and with it, the tension grew taut as well. It all mystified Brooke. They had talked so easily at Thanksgiving, and even before that. So why was everything suddenly so difficult?
She could think of only one reason.
“Well, I guess I’d better—”
“Dylan, do you have a minute?” Brooke asked suddenly. “I need to talk to you.”
“Sure,” he replied.
Wanting to get out of the way of the front door, Brooke led the way to the right and found a small seating area that was apparently designed as a large coat closet. Racks lined the walls, but in the center were some chairs, a table, and a lamp turned on low. Though some coats were hung on the racks, the area was empty, the only movement coming from little twinkle lights strung high on the walls in preparation for Christmas. The entire effect was charming, and Brooke even detected the smell of cinnamon, likely from the bowl of pinecones sitting on the little table.
Before they even fully entered the room, Brooke turned to Dylan, wanting to get it over with. “Dylan, it appears I need to apologize yet again. I just found out that my sister, Geneva, had some mistaken impressions and has possibly been pestering you. I apologize for her behavior. She was trying to watch out for me by testing your loyalty. The good news is that you passed and were apparently not interested in her advances at all. The bad news is that it means absolutely nothing since we are not, nor have we ever been together, and you are completely free to date whomever you please.”
Dylan laughed, a loud, happy sound in the quiet closet area. “Well, that explains a lot! I guess I should be proud I passed her test!”
Brooke just shook her head. “I don’t think it was much of a test since there was no reason why you couldn’t flirt or go out with her. My only hope is that maybe it’ll bring her ego down a notch to know that there wasn’t really another woman that you preferred. You just didn’t want her.”
“Well, that may not be true,” Dylan said hesitantly.
Brooke's heart leaped in sudden anxiety. Was he really interested in Geneva after all?
“I actually do prefer another woman, but the other statement you made isn’t true either. You said I was completely free to date whomever I please.”
Brooke looked at him blankly, unable to read his facial expressions in the dim light. “Of course you are!” she protested.
He inched forward, looking down at her while his gaze searched her face. “You tell me, Brooke. Am I free to date who I want? Am I free to date you?”
Brooke’s mouth went dry, and her heart pounded. She shook her head and whispered, “No, not me.”
“Why not?” he asked softly. Slowly, as if mesmerized, he took her hand and entwined it with his. Then he held it up as if admiring how perfectly their hands fit together.
Brooke didn’t want to answer. She didn’t want to tell him the truth, but the words came out of their own accord. “You will hurt me,” she said with a half sob.
Dylan looked confused and then, suddenly, his face cleared. He reached out with his free hand and tilted Brooke’s chin, so her eyes met his once more. “Did someone hurt you, Brooke? Is that why you don’t have a boyfriend?”
In spite of herself, she nodded. Dylan seemed to have the ability to extract secrets Brooke would rather keep. Though her head was telling her to keep quiet, her heart did the talking, answering every question he breathed with complete honesty.
“What happened?” he asked gently.
“Every boyfriend I’ve ever had seemed to tire of me very quickly. I went to a party once with my first boyfriend. When it was time to go, I went to look for him and found him making out with one of my best friends. The only other relatively serious boyfriend I’ve had was named Andy. I took him home to meet my family. He and Geneva really hit it off, and she started flirting with him terribly. I thought it was just Geneva being Geneva. Then a few days later, Andy sent Geneva to break up with me. She tried to be nice, saying that they never intended to have feelings for each oth
er. She even said that, though she really liked him, she wouldn’t date him for my sake, if I didn’t want her to. But what could I do? He was crazy about her. Who wouldn’t be? So Andy and I were over, and he dated Geneva for a few months. I think he wanted to get serious, and she didn’t. So they eventually broke up.”
Dylan’s jaw worked with tension. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
Brooke shrugged. “I know Geneva still feels bad and has a lot of guilt over it, even though I don’t have hard feelings. It wasn’t her fault that he liked her better. It hurt at the time, but I got over it.”
“Only now, you won’t give any other man the chance to hurt you again.”
“You’ll hurt me, Dylan,” she whispered. “I know you will. You’ll tire of me quickly, just like the others. You’ll send me flowers at the two-week mark, just like the others, and then never again because you’ll realize I’m not what you want.”
“But, Brooke, you aren’t just like the others.” His eyes were an intense gray storm, and Brooke had no doubt that he meant every word.
But he was wrong.
“In some ways, I’m not like them,” Brooke admitted. “I’m not a judge, or a beautiful cowgirl, or a model, or a doctor. I’m nobody special. Eventually, you’ll realize that, and you’ll leave for greener pastures and someone who isn’t so ordinary. You won’t intend to hurt me, but you will. Only unlike the others, my heart won’t be able to take it.”
“Brooke, you don’t know any of that!” Dylan said. “You’re just speculating on all of it and speaking through fear. What must I do to get you to trust enough to take a chance on me?”
“Dylan, there’s nothing you can do. I won’t date you. I can’t. I’d have a hard enough time dating a man who didn’t have your track record. I just can’t be one of the broken hearts in your wake.”
Dylan’s eyes slid shut. Ironically, in her efforts that he wouldn’t hurt her, she had instead hurt him.
Brooke whispered, “Dylan, I still like you. I like talking with you and being with you. I don’t want to lose that. I will be your friend, but nothing more.”
Dylan’s eyes came open and his gaze locked with hers. Reaching up, he gently caressed her face, his touch feather-soft. “I don’t know that I can be your friend, Brooke.”
His face came closer, his lips hovering mere inches above her own. Brooke felt the pull of attraction drawing them together. Her lips tingled in anticipation, longing for the touch of his on hers.
“Leave now, Brooke,” Dylan whispered brokenly. “If you don’t, I will kiss you as long as it takes to make you forget that you don’t want to be mine. Leave now and don’t look back.”
Brooke’s eyes instantly slid shut, breaking the contact. Then she did the only thing she could do.
She left.
“Brooke, sweetheart, can you come to the phone?” Brooke’s mother called across the kitchen. “Uncle Wayne wants to talk to you.”
Brooke shot her mom an irritated look, but she accepted the phone. Leave it to her mom to arrange things to get what she wanted. After all, Brooke was fairly certain that her sister, Sydney, came by her gifts of manipulation honestly.
“Hi, Uncle Wayne!” Brooke said as cheerfully as she could muster. “Merry Christmas!”
“Right back at you!” he greeted. “I heard you had some trouble over there in Crossroads. Some of your flower deliveries headed the wrong direction?”
Well, at least it was a relief that Uncle Wayne didn’t specialize in chit-chat. He got right to the point, which was good. She didn’t want to have a long conversation. Dinner was almost on the table, and she didn’t want to miss any of it. Her older brother, Israel was here with his wife Marissa and two-year-old daughter, Chloe. Dallas and Geneva were here as well, though her other siblings couldn’t make it. Brooke wanted to enjoy the time with her family as much as possible, especially with her niece. And she definitely did not want to be stuck on the phone, no matter what her mother devised.
“So you’ve been talking to Mom.” It was a statement. Brooke never had to wonder how family members knew the details to her life. Lydia had always been close to her family. Just because her children were now all adults did not mean that Lydia’s mother or siblings heard any fewer details about their lives. Brooke sighed, “Yes, there were some mix-ups, but I think everything is straightened out the way it should be now.”
That wasn’t the complete truth, but she didn’t want to be on the phone all day spilling her guts to Uncle Wayne. Though Uncle Wayne owned his own successful shop and she knew he’d lend an understanding ear, it had been over a month now. Though the Crossroads gossip mills had eventually found different fodder, things weren’t the same, and Brooke had given up that they would ever return to the previous normal. She still had no job, and her money was nonexistent. She seriously doubted Uncle Wayne could change any of that, despite his well-meaning intentions.
She hated the thought of having to borrow money from her parents or give up her apartment, but if something didn’t happen before the new year, then she would have no choice. Her desperation was also urging her to take her siblings up on their offers of using their connections to get interviews. But while her head argued that she shouldn’t feel bad about it because it was just good networking, her stubborn streak still demanded that she do it on her own.
So she kept turning in applications, even though the fact that she hadn’t even gotten a single interview made her feel like a complete loser. The only explanation as to why nobody would give her a chance was that they hadn’t forgotten the mess with the floral shop. She didn’t feel like she was disliked in the community, except by Helen, of course, but she did still notice the whispers. And though she had applied for every kind of job she could, even as a manager at a fast food restaurant, no one seemed interested in hiring her. With her intelligence and competence in question, Brooke didn’t know that anyone in Crossroads would ever take the risk of having her as an employee.
“I heard you got canned over it,” Wayne said bluntly.
Brooke sighed. Apparently, Mom didn’t let any detail escape her report. Brooke would have preferred that the news of her being fired not be sent along the family grapevine, but it was obviously too late. If only she could have just said Brooke was ‘looking for other work!’
“Yes, I did,” she admitted. “But I’m putting in applications, even in Brighton Falls. So I’m sure I’ll find something soon.” Brooke’s tone sounded way more optimistic than she actually was. Hopefully, Mom would give her some leftovers from Christmas dinner. If not, then she would have to eat a lot of Ramen noodles this week.
“I don’t imagine anyone is eager to hire someone with a whole lot of accidental orders under her belt,” Wayne said sadly.
“No, they aren’t. It was a pretty big mess.”
Brooke waited, hoping she didn’t have to recount all the gory details of how she had screwed things up so badly. Chloe came toddling by with a toy phone. Looking up at Brooke, the dark-haired little elf handed her the phone and babbled something quite serious. Taking the phone, Brooke put it to her other ear and pretended to talk.
After the lengthy pause that Brooke had no intention of breaking, Wayne finally spoke, his tone bright. “Well, you’re a good designer, Brooke. I’m sure you’ll land on your feet.”
Busy handing the phone back to Chloe and pretending the phone call was now for the little girl, Brooke still didn’t respond.
Finally, Wayne cleared his throat and continued, “I need to tell you, Brooke, that I’m not really calling to offer my condolences or find out all the details. I’m sure Lydia has already filled Mom in on those if I have an interest in family gossip. I really wanted to call and thank you.”
“Why would you need to thank me?” Brooke asked, rather startled at the sudden turn in the conversation.
Wayne chuckled. “I heard about your order mix-ups, and that gave me an idea to do my own order mix-up—kind of an accidental, on-purpose one.”
�
��Uncle Wayne, you didn’t!”
“Yes, I did!” he said, obviously thoroughly delighted with himself. “And it worked! I single-handedly managed to set up a couple with a little accidental delivery of flowers. Now they are together, and I expect an engagement announcement any day! The flowers finally gave them an excuse to talk to each other and figure out that they were in love, and I have you to thank! If you hadn’t completely messed up your orders, I would have never heard about it and got the idea.”
Brooke opened and closed her mouth, so shocked she had no idea how to respond. “You’re welcome, I guess,” she finally managed.
Uncle Wayne’s laughter boomed through the phone. “See how everything works out for a reason? Messing up one order wouldn’t have been good enough. You had to wreck things so much that it was bad enough for me to hear about it clear over here. Isn’t God amazing? He let you mess things up, which allowed me to get a crazy idea, which allowed a wonderful couple to get together, just like they were meant to be!”
Still feeling a little whiplash about his reasoning, Brooke tried to find an appropriate response. Chloe started to wave her toy and complain loudly that distracted Aunt Brooke wasn’t answering the plastic phone anymore. Before she made it to outright screaming, Israel came and plopped both her and her toy phone into his arms.
Still not knowing what to say, Brooke finally just voiced her thoughts. “I’m not sure you should make a habit of playing matchmaker or sending orders ‘accidentally, on-purpose,’ Uncle Wayne. But I’m glad it worked out for you this time.”
Wayne snorted, “Oh, don’t worry. I don’t think I’ll be pulling another one of those charades. I was sweating buckets there for a while, worried that it wouldn’t work out.”
Wayne paused as if thinking. Then, his voice a little gravelly, he continued, “You just hang in there, Brooke. Remember that God can take even our worst mistakes and make something good. Look for the good, Brooke. It will be there if you look.”
