A Journey by Chance

by Sally John

  Aaron grinned, then started humming. When a low, breathy female voice started singing, he missed a beat, but quickly caught up with her. “Where does your journey lead from here?” he sang out in a strong baritone. “O’er mountains not scaled, ’cross oceans still wild?”

  The speaker went silent and Aaron hummed a few bars a cappella. “Da de dum ‘I have but one request of you, dear.’ Da da—”

  “Your hand in mine,” Lauren joined in, “I’ll walk alongside.” They laughed through a few more da dums. When a sudden blast of orchestral music drowned them, they stood and sang out loudly, “’Til life’s journey is complete, counting each moment with you as eternity held fast.”

  One request? To walk alongside ’til life’s journey is complete?

  The stereo volume decreased, and Brady came back into the kitchen. Gina caught him glancing her direction, before quickly averting his eyes. He meandered toward the coffeepot. The tips of his ears were red. She couldn’t resist. “Brady, now do you remember the words?”

  Aaron asked, “What do you mean? He knows the words. We all sat around here, listening to his old music, choosing songs for the wedding.”

  “We almost chose that one.” Lauren twisted her head to look back at Brady. “Didn’t we?”

  His neck was flushed now.

  Gina smiled. “At the band concert, he sang the first two lines to me, then said he couldn’t remember any more of the words.”

  Aaron laughed. “As in ‘I have but one request of you, dear’?”

  The three of them howled with laughter as Brady stood at the counter, obviously flustered and at a loss for words. He seemed to have a problem knowing what to do with his hands, shoving them into the back pockets of his khakis, then pulling them out and crossing his arms over his chest. At last he sputtered, “I didn’t think they were appropriate.”

  “I should hope not, mister.” Gina picked up her coffee mug and walked over to him. “‘What are you doing the rest of your life?’ It sounds like a marriage proposal. May I have some coffee?”

  “The first part was appropriate.” He still looked rattled. His forehead was creased, and he combed his fingers through his short blond hair. “I mean, you’re trying to figure out what to do with your future. The rest of your life.”

  “Mm-hmm.” She was amused at Brady’s discomfort. She nudged him aside and reached for the coffee carafe. “Do you want some?”

  “The remainder of the song was just too irrational to even mention.”

  “Absolutely.” Gina bit her lip to keep from bursting into laughter again. He sounded so sincere. She picked up her mug and turned. “That’s probably why you jumped up so quickly to turn it off. You know how annoyed I get at irrational, illogical sentiments.”

  “Yeah.” He looked toward the refrigerator, then back at her. His tan had deepened. He recrossed his arms. “I don’t imagine you’d respond favorably to an irrational proposal.”

  She shook her head, then sipped coffee.

  He cleared his throat. “But what exactly would a rational, logical proposal sound like?”

  “Well, first of all the one offering it would have to be a really, really good friend. Then it would probably be a mutual decision. Either one of us might say, ‘We function so well together. Maybe we should make it permanent. What do you think?’”

  His eyes widened. “That’s rational. It’s also totally without passion.”

  “There’s passion,” she argued. “It’s just…subtle.”

  “Do you take after your dad? You sound like a no-nonsense businessman. Person.”

  She shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah, well, it works. I don’t suppose you could relate to a woman in that way. You’d be too busy sending flowers.” And kissing.

  “Gina.” He leaned in, stretched his arms around either side of her, and rested his hands against the countertop behind her. Aaron and Lauren were forgotten. “Has anyone ever sent you flowers?” His discomfort seemed to be lessening.

  While hers increased. “Sure.”

  “I mean, sent you flowers.”

  She frowned at him, aware of her heartbeat against the coffee mug she clutched between them.

  “Dozens and dozens of roses,” he clarified.

  “Why would someone do that? It’s too extravagant for something that will soon be put in the trash.”

  “He would do it because you have the same effect on him as dozens of flowers. To him you are as beautiful as exquisitely shaped roses, orchids, daisies, and tulips. You brighten every room you enter like a dazzling burst of fragrant, colorful beauty. You influence everything about his life for the better.” Brady moved still closer and tilted his head closer to hers. “Too irrational for you?”

  “Totally.”

  “You’re all red, Angelina,” he whispered.

  “You changed the subject. So why did you jump up so quickly to change the music?”

  “Now you’re changing the subject.”

  Gina tore her eyes from his turquoise gaze and stared down at the steaming coffee in her mug.

  “I changed the music because,” he breathed against her hair, “in the park I wanted to sing all the words to you. And that is way too irrational, even for me.”

  “Yoo-hoo!” It was a loud female voice followed by the solid thump of the front door closing in the other room. “Are you home?”

  Brady straightened and crossed the kitchen just as a woman hurried through the doorway.

  She threw her arms wide and cried, “Brady!” She rushed to him. Her arms encircled his neck, and she pulled his face toward hers.

  The kiss lasted long enough for Gina to exchange a questioning look with Lauren and to see Aaron frown. It lasted long enough for her to observe that the stranger was tall, probably 5'11" or so, with willowy with straight blonde hair. She wore a knee-length sleeveless black dress. It lasted long enough for an air of awkwardness to settle on the gathering. Gina moved back toward the table and stood beside her cousin.

  “Kim.” Brady unhooked her arms from his neck. “You’re back.”

  She tapped his nose with her finger. “You are observant, dear boy.”

  Lauren cleared her throat. “Hello, Kim.”

  She will have blue eyes, Gina predicted.

  The stranger turned large blue eyes their direction. Her nose was delicate, the tip turned slightly upward. She smiled. Her teeth were very straight. “You’ve got company! Aaron, right?” She stepped toward them and shook his hand. “And—?”

  Brady offered, “You remember Lauren, his fiancée. And this is…Lauren’s cousin.” He glanced at Gina. “From California. This is Kim Severson.”

  He had forgotten her name. Gina shook the woman’s hand, not bothering to fill in the blank. Not that she had much of a chance. Kim chattered nonstop, scurrying back to the doorway where she retrieved a paper bag overflowing with sticks of French bread.

  “I’ve brought dinner. Oh, but only for two.” She pouted.

  “It’s nine o’clock,” Brady said.

  “In Spain the evening is just getting started at nine o’clock.”

  Between Brady’s words tumbling over Kim’s, Gina gathered that Kim was a junior college Spanish teacher and had just returned after spending the second semester in Spain with a group of students.

  “I got so homesick for you, Brady. I wanted to surprise you. Have you all eaten? We could run back to the store, get some more chicken. They’re still open. I was so surprised to see they’ve extended their hours.”

  Her strings of sentences wrapped around the four of them like tentacles, holding them all at attention. Somehow Lauren managed to extricate herself, stepping to Brady and giving him a quick hug, thanking him for dinner, firmly stating they were leaving. Aaron followed suit with a handshake. Gina added her thanks and a polite “nice meeting you” as she moved toward the door.

  Brady and Kim followed them outside, she holding his arm. Spotlights shone from the garage on the drive. The surrounding woods were dark. They quickly clim
bed into Aaron’s car and left.

  In the back seat Gina shook her head, not sure what to make of the last ten minutes. Except for the sound of Lauren’s heavy breathing, they rode in silence out to the highway.

  “Aaron!” Lauren exclaimed finally, “what is she doing here? I thought that was over!”

  “Lauren, I don’t know anything. What are you so steamed about?”

  “How can he do that to Gina?”

  “Do what?”

  “Act like he cares about her and then have Kim waltz in behaving as if they’re engaged or something.”

  “He’s not responsible for Kim’s behavior.”

  “Well, he could have stopped it. This is so embarrassing.”

  “For whom?”

  “Hey, you two,” Gina interrupted. “Don’t worry about it. So Brady was involved with Kim. Or is. Que sera sera. It’s not like we were anything but friends for the time being. It’s not like,” she paused, swallowed the catch in her throat, “not like it was going anywhere.”

  “It was rude,” Lauren said. “Any sensible, just-friend friend would have seen he was occupied and said good night. Any idiot could have told her he was occupied; he’d call her another day. She walked in as if she lived there. They just dated last fall. I think we saw them at a party last summer.”

  “Laur,” Gina pleaded, “give Cupid a rest. Please. Just take me home.”

  They rode in silence. Inexplicable emotions churned in Gina. She couldn’t think straight. There was literally a physical ache in her chest. How could he kiss someone else in that same way? What was last night all about? I need a job—

  “Gina,” Lauren broke into her thoughts. “It’s early. If you don’t want to face your folks and Aunt Lottie, come with us to the house. We can watch Aaron paint or something. Okay? Okay, Aaron?”

  Her folks?

  Aaron’s eyes sought hers in the rearview mirror. “Good idea. Come with us. Give yourself some time to get over the, uh, rather abrupt end to the evening. What do you say?”

  She didn’t want to face her folks. What would she say? You were right. He is an Olafsson. But he wasn’t, not in that disparaging way. Was he?

  “Gina?” Lauren broke into her thoughts. “You won’t be in the way.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” It was a lifeline her cousin threw. Good grief, she didn’t have a life. She had to get her own place. Job first, then her own place. Put the Wild Creatures Country behind her, put Podunk behind her. Move on. Get a life. Start the rest of her journey…

  Twenty-Nine

  Maggie repositioned the crutches under her arms in an attempt to find a less tender spot. Her palms hurt, too, from pressing them against the padded rungs. Her ankle throbbed again. The cast was impossibly heavy. Was it time to take more pain medication?

  She felt like a klutz, maneuvering her way through the living room toward the dining room. Thank goodness Marsha had moved the dinner to Aunt Lottie’s, insisting that Maggie stay put. Now it was after nine. As Maggie shut the door on departing guests, Reece had gone straight to the dining table, attaché case in hand.

  A low mechanical hum greeted her at the doorway, flowing on a light breeze. Reece had placed a fan in the window. It pulled in the late night’s cooler air. He sat with his back directly to it, laptop computer open before him on the table, piles of papers spread about, weighted down with a coffee mug, a crystal bowl of colorful plastic fruit, and blue racquetballs. The lace tablecloth had been pushed aside.

  “Still up?” he asked. The keyboard clicked under his rapidly moving fingers.

  She ignored the rhetorical question, pulled out a chair, and carefully lowered herself onto it. She angled the crutches against the nearby wall. They immediately clattered to the floor. She breathed a frustrated sigh.

  Reece glanced up. “You’ve had a traumatic day. Don’t you think you should get some rest?”

  “I want to talk.”

  His eyes were on a paper in his hand. “I need to go through these—”

  “Reece!” Her tone was sharper than she had intended.

  His jaw tensed, but he put down the paper, closed the laptop, and made eye contact with her.

  It was now or never. If she backpedaled, she’d lose his attention. It was time to get to the heart of the matter. “Do you love me?”

  He barked a laugh. “What kind of a ridiculous question is that?”

  “Ridiculous, I guess, but I need an answer.”

  “Podunk always unnerves you. I wish you weren’t spending an entire month here.”

  “It’s a simple question, Reece. I can’t remember the last time you told me.”

  He blinked. “You know my parents weren’t demonstrative in that way. I grew up without—”

  “You’re 56 years old. Let’s move beyond our childhoods.”

  “Like you’re doing, spending a month back here wallowing in yours?”

  “I’m wallowing in it in order to come to terms with it. And move on.”

  “I thought you moved on when you came to Northern.”

  “That was just burying it. I didn’t take the time to grieve death and divorce and lost dreams. I didn’t take the time to forgive Neil’s mother.”

  “You have to do this now? It’s over. It’s been over a long time. Some counselor tell you to do this?”

  She hesitated. John had helped her conclude this, but he wasn’t a counselor. “No.”

  Reece rubbed his forehead. “I don’t understand you. Women and their hormones. Why can’t you just let things be? Let them stay buried?”

  “Because they’re still locked in here.” She touched her chest. “And they keep me fearful. They keep me from forgiving and from…dreaming new dreams.” She paused. “Your issues keep you from saying you love me.”

  He looked down at the tabletop and drummed his fingers.

  “Unless you just don’t anymore.”

  “Margaret, if I didn’t, would I spend a weekend in Podunk with your family?”

  “You came for business.”

  “I do that business for you, for us, for our home, our cars—”

  “You do it because you thoroughly enjoy everything about it.” How often had he told her that through the years? He was that rare man who found deep contentment in his work.

  “You’ve always been my best friend,” he offered.

  “But we don’t talk on that deepest of levels, about positive or negative things. Do you talk to anyone in that way?” Involuntarily, her breath held and her hand went to her tightening midsection. What if there was someone else for him?

  He spread his arms. “I’m a man. I don’t know that I even think that way, let alone talk to anyone that way. This is all gray area. I deal in black and white. Black and white says we met, we fit, we married. End of story.”

  “You used to bring me flowers.”

  “You want flowers? I can bring you flowers.”

  “If I have to tell you, it doesn’t count.”

  His eyebrows shot up.

  “Reece, do you think I love you?”

  He crossed his arms and grunted. “Can’t say that I think about it.”

  “Well, could you think about now?” Her voice rose. “Just for a minute?”

  “You’re going to wake Lottie.”

  She grabbed a stack of his papers, sent a racquetball bouncing away, and fanned herself.

  “Look,” he said, “I guess I just assume you do. You’re there when I come home. We have mutual friends. We go to dinner together.” He stopped.

  “I decorate the house by myself,” she continued in his vein of reasoning. “Blanca and I clean it. Ramon and I care for the yard. You go to basketball and whatnot games with your friends. When our friends come over, I cook dinner. You’re out of town 16 days a month. At least.”

  They stared at each other.

  Reece broke the silence. “I have work to do.” He stood and reached down to pick up her crutches. “And you should rest.”

  Bracing herself against the table, s
he rose and accepted the crutches from him. It took a moment to place them under her arms.

  “Margaret?”

  She looked over at him.

  “So do you?” He blinked. “Love me?”

  She averted her eyes to the floor and began to inch her clumsy way to the door. At least he had asked. He deserved the truth. “I don’t know anymore, Reece.”

  Gina strolled up the dark sidewalk in front of Aunt Lottie’s as Aaron and Lauren drove off. It had been good to spend a few hours with them, letting the shock of that moment at Brady’s filter through time and dilute itself. What remained was a touch of sadness, a touch of relief, a touch of clarity, a touch of resolve.

  She was grateful for Brady’s friendship and how he defined Jesus for her. Evidently she was in worse shape than she realized, vulnerable beyond a healthy state of mind to have fallen for his romantic overtures. How silly she felt! What had she been thinking? Well, she hadn’t been thinking—

  She saw movement in the shadows of the front porch. “Dad! What are you doing still up?” She climbed the steps.

  “Couldn’t sleep. You’re home early, compared to last night.” He sat in the padded, aluminum rocker. It creaked against the wooden floorboards.

  In the dim light of a distant street lamp she could make out a tall plastic glass that he lifted. Ice cubes clunked. Iced coffee was a favorite of his, but in the middle of the night? Gina slid onto the swing. “Coffee’s going to help you sleep?”

  “I thought as long as I was awake, I may as well be awake, if you get my drift. I changed our tickets. Is it all right with you if we leave tomorrow afternoon? We can go straight from Rockville. No need to drive to Chicago.”

  “Sounds perfect to me.” The sooner the better.

  “Perfect, huh? It must be getting to you, too.”

  “What is?”

  “Podunk.”

  “Dad, that’s so derogatory.”

  “You sound exactly like your mother, and I admit you’re both right. It is derogatory. Excuse me. But you can’t tell me this town doesn’t unnerve her.”

  “Oh, it unsettles her, but at the same time she seems to be handling things well. I mean, she finally found the courage to tell me about Rosie and Neil. We had a great time looking up ancestors’ history at the courthouse. It gave me such a sense of grounding. I know it affected Mother. And she’s laughing a lot with Aunt Marsha. Did she tell you about doing a cheer in a parking lot with her old friends? Can you picture that?”