by Evie Nichole
She smiled wistfully as memories flooded her mind. Running down a cracked sidewalk. Greeted at a door by a round-faced woman holding out a plate of cookies. A patient man with a bad habit of running his hand through his jet-black hair, touching her shoulder, slanted eyes lit with pride.
“That’s beautiful.”
Selene jerked her hands from the keyboard as if she had been burned. Her face felt hot. Barkley Bailey was standing next to her, and she hadn’t even heard him approach. She blamed it on the vacuum instead of her mental revelries.
“Sorry. I should have asked first.”
Barkley slid onto the bench seat beside her. His cologne was subtle, woodsy and fresh. Selene wanted to lean in to smell it better.
“Nonsense. Please continue.”
“Why don’t you?” Selene countered. “I assume you play.”
Barkley grinned broadly and began a choppy version of Mary had a Little Lamb. He stopped half way and shrugged.
“My lack of musical talent is the bane of my mother’s existence.”
“I doubt that.”
“No, really. She hoped I would do something classical—painting, piano, violin—but I disappointed on all levels. She even called in a violin instructor, but the neighborhood cats howled so loud she fired him after only two lessons.”
“You’re making that up.” Selene laughed.
“Oh, I wish he was.” Ruth Bailey glided through the room, smartly dressed in cream slacks and a paisley silk blouse of fall colors. “He was a horrendous student. All he cared about was football and video games.” She spoke the last word with a twist to her mouth.
“There could have been far worse things for me to devote my time to, Mother.” Barkley rose and greeted his mother with a brushed kiss to her cheek.
“I’m surprised to see you here again, Gisele is it?”
Selene felt Barkley stiffen slightly as he took his seat beside her again.
“Yes, it’s Gisele. Barkley was kind enough to invite me back today.”
“Oh, I’m sure it was quite a martyrdom for him,” she replied dryly.
“Was there something you needed, Mother? I thought you were going home today.”
Ruth studied her pristine fingernails. “I’ve decided to stay the weekend.”
“Won’t Dad miss you?”
She turned away and sniffed. “Doubtful. He’s staying in Atlantic City.” She stepped gracefully away from the piano. “Did Betty make any of those delightful croissants this morning?”
“Just for you.”
“She’s a gem.”
Barkley watched his mother exit the room before he cursed quietly. “She’s driving me nuts.”
“All parents drive their adult kids’ nuts.”
He sighed, running his palm along his jaw and cheek. “Not like this. She’s overbearing.”
You don’t say.
“It’s only gotten worse since Dad had taken to spending all of his time away from her.”
“How recent was that?”
Barkley raised one shoulder. “Oh, I don’t know. Within the past twelve to eighteen months.”
Selene frowned. “Were they close before that?”
“As close as anyone can be to my mother.” Barkley smiled suddenly. “So, I was thinking we could go to a few museums today.”
Selene made a face. “Museums?”
Barkley lowered his brow and looked at her sternly. “Young lady, you need to see some culture.”
I’ve seen more culture than you would care to know about. “How do you know that I’m not cultured?”
“Touché. I stand corrected.”
Selene stood and looked down at him with hands on her hips. “And I’m not as young as you think.”
“You know my age. What’s yours?”
“Haven’t you ever heard that it’s rude to ask a lady that question?”
“I heard it somewhere.” He teased.
Selene sighed. “I’m twenty-nine.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed that. I was thinking twenty-one or twenty-two.”
Selene couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe we are back to good genetics.” She ran a finger along the top of the piano. “All right, I’ll make a deal with you. We can go to one museum if we go to Brewster Street after that.”
Barkley lowered his head, his mind racing to figure out why it sounded familiar. His head shot up.
“The open-air market?”
“The very one,” she replied, moving away from the piano. “Last weekend for it until spring.”
Barkley followed after her. “That place is full of hippies!”
Selene stopped and gave him a cool glance. “Now that’s just the thing a rich snob would say.”
Barkley’s mouth fell open. “That’s not fair.”
“It’s also not fair to make generalized assumptions about an entire neighborhood.”
***
Barkley let Selene off the hook for the museum, choosing instead to go straight to Brewster Street. By the time they arrived, the mid-September air was a perfect sixty-five degrees. Not quite cold enough for a jacket, and not warm enough for shorts and short sleeves. It was Selene’s favorite time of year. Fall was a transformation. Each year it felt like she was going through some kind of transformation. Last year it was the death of her mother. The year before it was the arduous recovery after an IED had blown too close for comfort. It was also the strain of coming home. Yes, she was like a butterfly. As she touched a revolving display of brightly patterned scarves, she couldn’t help but wonder what the New Year would bring. She hoped peace. Peace had eluded her for quite some time.
“Earth to Gisele.”
Selene let go of the scarf, its wispy material sliding through her fingers. Barkley was watching her with an amused kind of scrutiny.
“Sorry. Were you saying something?”
“Yes.” He smiled, dimples popping out, making Selene’s pulse quicken. “I saw a wonderful paper boat in a guy’s hand over there, and it seemed to be filled with multiple deep fried delicacies. I say we go find from whence it came.” He wriggled his eyebrows.
Selene laughed. “It probably came from right there.” She pointed at a food truck with large red letters announcing that MO was the owner.
“You’re familiar?”
“I ate there last time I came.”
“When was that?”
Selene’s mind flashed back to her mother chattering happily at her side as Selene limped her way down Brewster Street. Curious faces had watched her slow progression.
“Two years ago. Close to this time of year.”
“Was the food good?”
“Very. Especially if you like heart attack in a little paper boat.”
Barkley forced his face into a solemn mask, his hand came up with the palm facing out. “I do.”
Selene laughed again. “Then let’s eat. There should be a couple picnic tables behind the truck. We can see if they’re empty. Not much changes from year to year here.”
Selene thought Barkley was like a child denied candy being let loose in a candy store. He almost bought one of everything, including the largest fountain drink she had ever seen, leaving her embarrassed to walk with him.
“You don’t get out much, do you?”
Barkley only grunted, as he maneuvered the small crowd around the truck to get to the picnic tables. Once he had unloaded, he sat down and clapped his hands together once before rubbing them together.
“Actually, no, I don’t.” He placed a heavily seasoned fry in his mouth and chewed. “After my wife went missing, I lost a little weight.” He plucked another fry from the boat. “My mother thought the weight loss was fabulous. She insisted that she hire a chef to teach my main housekeeper how to make heart healthy food.”
“Well, I doubt the croissants she was raving about are heart healthy!”
Barkley sighed loudly. “It’s a travesty, really. They aren’t real croissants.” He made air quotations. “They’re a low-fat, low-
carb recipe Betty found.”
“That is a travesty.” Selene agreed as she poured ketchup over her fry and hush puppy boat.”
“Don’t get me wrong, they are good, just not real croissants.”
“How did you get away with that buffet table then?”
“I gave Betty the night off, much to the chagrin of her hurt pride, and I told my mother to can it.” He grinned devilishly.
Selene shook her head. “I somehow get the impression that no one tells your mom to can it.”
“I told her it was my money and my one and only fortieth birthday. I compromised on the fruit and vegetable trays, otherwise she and her crony hens might have starved.”
Selene giggled. “That’s mean. Accurate, but mean.”
“I really can’t believe you didn’t want to try funnel cake.”
“You know you’re going to be sick.”
“Maybe you can take care of me then.”
Selene couldn’t believe how his green eyes seemed to sparkle in the afternoon sunlight. The way he had said the last words, quiet and thick, made her pulse quicken again to a point where she could hear her heartbeat within her ears.
“You have people falling over themselves to take care of you.” She popped a hush puppy in her mouth to ensure she wouldn’t have to talk for a moment.
“I have people falling over themselves to be near me. Betty is the only one who cares enough to want to care for me.”
Selene swallowed. “I’m sure that’s not true concerning your mother.”
“She likes to control things, and people. She wants to control me, that’s all.”
Selene felt a sadness for Barkley. He seemed like a lonely man. Even with all the friends and family, and she was sure employees too, he was still lonely.
“Alright, if your gastric ailment is too severe, I will drive you to the hospital.”
“That’s not exactly what I meant.”
The air thickened between them. Selene had to rip her eyes from the new dark stare Barkley was giving her. She cleared her throat.
“Well, that’s all that’s being offered.”
“Pity.”
They finished their food in near silence. Barkley threw in the towel halfway through his funnel cake.
“I can’t do anymore.”
“Are you feeling ok?”
“Just full.”
“Good, because I want to walk down to the farmers’ market part.”
“Will there be real honey and granola?”
Selene shook her head. “I can’t believe you still think this is a hippie thing.”
“I’m only teasing. It’s actually nice.”
Selene glanced at him to make sure he was telling the truth. He held up two fingers.
“Scouts honor.” He opened his fingers into the symbol for peace, laughing as Selene threw a wadded napkin at him.
An hour later Barkley was weighed down with plastic and paper bags with handles.
“Is this the only time of year that you buy produce?”
“No! This is the only place I can support local farmers.” She eyed him critically over her shoulder. “No one told you to get all that stuff for Betty.”
“She loves fresh stuff, too. Plus, she likes to cook for me, so it’s really a win-win situation.”
“Do you really think she’ll make apple cobbler?”
“No. But she might make apple pie.”
Selene tsked. “Your mother will be furious.”
“Probably.”
“So, what’s your favorite color, Gisele?”
The question caught her off guard. She stopped and turned completely to look at him. “I like lots of colors. Red, black, blue.” She shrugged. “I’m just not a big fan of beige or browns.”
“Ah, then you must have hated my guest bathroom.”
Selene nodded in agreement.
“Hey,”—he began and placed the bags he was carrying at her feet—“wait right here. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Selene watched in bewilderment as he trotted back the way they had come. He was impressive to look at from the front, but his rear wasn’t bad either.
What’s wrong with you? She practically slammed the tomato she was holding back into its bin.
“You know if you break something you have to pay for it.” The voice was like silk against her neck. Silky and familiar. Selene’s back went ridged. She turned slowly to see Eric Nelson smiling coyly at her. His dark brown hair had grown out and had a mussed look to it. He flicked his tongue across his bottom lip, the once signature call that would bring her running.
“When did you get back?” Selene kept her voice as flat as possible, ignoring her thundering pulse.
“A few months ago.”
Selene turned slowly. Perhaps if her body language spoke “go away”—he would do just that.
Eric moved to her side, randomly picking up a large tomato. Selene glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He looked thinner, pale.
“Who’s your friend?”
“Stalking me again?”
“It was pure coincidence that I saw you.”
Selene’s peripheral vision picked up on his body turning to her. His words were spoken with a quiet hatred which startled her.
“He looks like money.”
Selene faced him, her face glaring. “What if he is rich? Does that make him bad?”
Eric chuckled. “Aren’t they all? The man, I mean?”
Selene sighed and began trying to pick up the bags.
“Let me help you.”
“No!” She snapped, jerking a bag from his grasp. “When I needed your help, you couldn’t give it. I certainly don’t need it now.”
“Aren’t you even a little curious why I’m back? Why I’m not in the Corp anymore?”
“No.” She began tottering away, her arms straining against the bags. Selene felt a surge of relief as Barkley came into view, a small bag clutched in his hand.
“Sorry. There was a small line.”
“It’s fine. I think I’m ready to go.”
Barkley’s face fell a little. “Oh. Sure. We can do that.”
Selene stiffened as Eric shot a hand past her, extended to Barkley.
“Hi. I’m an old friend of Sel—”
“We have to go,” Selene interrupted.
Eric smirked at Barkley and backed away. “It was good to see you.”
Barkley watched with bewilderment as the dark-skinned man turned and walked away.
“What was he about to call you?”
“It’s nothing.” Selene pushed a bag towards him. “Old nick name.”
“How do you know him?” Barkley’s face was flushed, and Selene could see worry and jealousy pinching his eyes.
Selene sagged, sighing loudly. Keep it close to the truth.
“We were in the Corp together. He’s actually my ex.”
“You were a Marine?”
“Yes.”
“Wow. What did you do?”
Selene hesitated. She didn’t want to get into this. She didn’t want the usual questions.
“I served in Afghanistan.” There, that should be good enough.
“As a soldier?”
“Yes, as a soldier.”
“I’ve never understood the whole women in combat situations. I’ve never thought it was a good idea.”
Selene’s skin pricked. “Why? Because we’re the weaker sex? Because we can’t take care of ourselves?”
“Well, no…I mean…yes,” he stammered.
Selene nodded, twisting her mouth. She dropped the bags at her feet before stepping over them. She motioned at him with two fingers.
“Put those bags down for a minute?”
“Why?” he asked warily.
“Just do it.”
Barkley obeyed and stepped towards her. She grabbed one of his wrists, pulling him within a couple inches of her body, satisfied with the startled grunt that escaped Barkley’s throat. Before he could blink, she swept a
leg behind his knees, knocking him on his back. His wide eyes made her grin, as she pounced on his chest and pulled his shirt collar tight across his Adam’s apple.
“Do you still think I’m weak and in need of a big strong man to take care of me?”
“No,” Barkley wheezed.
“Good.” Selene released his collar and stood, holding a hand out to help him up. Two gray-haired women clapped and cheered. Once Barkley was up, Selene bowed. She turned to Barkley, awaiting his wrath, with arms crossed tightly over her chest.
He wiped at the back of his pants. “Now that was just plain sexy.”
“You’re not mad?” Selene tilted her head to the side.
“Hell no!” His dimples proved that he wasn’t. “I actually hope you’ll do it again.”
Selene laughed loudly and began picking the bags up again. “You’re crazy.”
“I think I’m becoming crazy about you,” he whispered.
***
Selene leaned over the island in Barkley’s massive kitchen, watching with a mild amazement as Betty created a completely homemade apple pie.
“You don’t cook like this for yourself?”
“No, ma’am. I’m rather attached to my microwave.”
Betty shook her head. “I don’t understand young women not wanting to cook these days.”
Selene lifted a corner of her mouth. She liked Betty almost immediately. She was slightly plump, and attractive, with curly reddish gray hair. She smelled like peaches. Her personality was warm, and Selene thought she would make an excellent grandmother.
“I know,” Selene replied. “My generation doesn’t know much about homemaking.”
“Humph.” Betty offered in response, crisscrossing strips of dough across the top of the pie. She grabbed a fork and began pressing it along the edges to bind the strips with the bottom part of the crust. Selene could practically feel her mouth watering as the final step was a quick brushing of butter on the top, and a sprinkling of sugar and cinnamon.
“Barkley wasn’t sure you would make a dessert. I hear you and his mother are in cahoots over his health.”
Betty slid the pie into one of the two ovens available and began wiping the counter. “I worry about Mr. Bailey for sure. I guess I went a little too far with Ruth’s requests.” She looked at Selene over her glasses. “Mr. Bailey signs my paycheck after all.”
