Herons Landing

by JoAnn Ross

  She’d had a crush on him going back to first grade, when he’d shared his lunch box Ding Dong with her. Her mother was a farm-to-table cook who hadn’t allowed processed food in their home. Even now, looking back, Brianna wasn’t sure whether it was Seth’s dark-chocolate-brown eyes with their ridiculously long lashes or the sudden burst of sugar on her tongue that had caused her to fall.

  Despite being a Harper, he’d been friends with her brothers, which had him around the farm a lot. During her elementary school years, whenever she’d play with her Barbies, she’d be bridal Barbie, and groom Ken had been renamed Seth. Unfortunately, he’d always viewed her as either his friend’s sister who’d insist on tagging along with them, or worse, one of the guys. By middle school, she still hadn’t caught his attention, but Brianna knew, with every fiber of her young, not-yet-budding body, that once they got to high school and her breasts grew larger than the puny little bumps sticking out from her chest and she got curves in other places—like maybe some hips that didn’t look like a boy’s?—Seth Harper would finally look up and notice that the girl of his dreams had been in front of him all along.

  Maybe she’d even get a locker next to his. Those things could happen, right? After all, all those book writers and movie makers had to get the “meet cute” idea from somewhere. And one day, while he was taking out his book for their shared first-period English class, their eyes would meet, bells would chime, Disney bluebirds would sing and, forever and ever afterward, they’d be known to one and all as “Sethanna.”

  Unfortunately, when they’d returned to school after the Christmas break their last year of middle school, he’d looked up, all right. But instead of being blinded by her not-yet-achieved perfection, instead he’d noticed Zoe Robinson, a new girl from Astoria, Oregon, whose father had brought the family across the Columbia River back to his hometown. From the moment Zoe had walked into that first-period homeroom, Seth’s swoony brown eyes had locked on to her. And Zoe had tumbled just as fast.

  Brianna could have hated her. At first, she’d wanted to hate her. But the petite girl with the long dark curls turned out to be as friendly as she was pretty. With Seth seeming destined to forever stay in brother mode, and unable to ignore the little sparkly hearts that appeared to follow the couple around like fairy dust, by the summer of their sophomore year of high school, Brianna had resigned herself to the fact that the two were, in fact, the perfect couple. And over that time, Zoe had become like the sister Brianna had always dreamed of.

  Not that any of that had stopped her from dreaming of Seth. Mature Audience Only dreams (she hadn’t had the experience to imagine the R-rated yet) that had her feeling guilty when she woke up, and making it hard to face either one of them the next day.

  After graduation, Zoe had joined the Army, something she’d been talking about all through school, but Brianna hadn’t really believed she’d go through with. And, from what she could tell, her visit to the Port Angeles recruiting center had surprised even Seth. She’d always wanted to be a nurse, but loggers didn’t make that much money, and even with her part-time job waiting tables at the diner, her family hadn’t had the money for nursing school. Beginning with a descendant who’d first arrived on the peninsula from Seattle to serve at Port Townsend’s Fort Worden in the early 1900s—theoretically to thwart any invasion from the sea—every succeeding generation of Robinsons had had at least one military family member. Which was why Zoe, an only child without any brothers to carry on the tradition, had decided that letting the Army pay for college only made sense.

  She and Seth had continued to date while she’d gone to school at UW, returning home on the weekends and for holidays. Although everyone in Honeymoon Harbor knew they were destined to spend their lives together, Seth had officially proposed on New Year’s Eve of Zoe’s final year, and after her graduation, once she’d been commissioned as a second lieutenant, they’d married in a simple ceremony held in the Moments in Time meadow at Lake Crescent Lodge in Olympic National Park.

  Because Seth was a civilian, rather than wear her dress uniform, Zoe had chosen to be married in a simple white silk shantung sheath, while Brianna, who’d returned home from her job at the Winfield Palace Hotel in Atlanta to serve as one of Zoe’s two attendants, had worn a sleeveless dress with a flared skirt in a soft, dusty pink that mirrored the mountains’ icy glaciers at sunrise. The other bridesmaid, Kylee Campbell, had gone with a matching style in a kelly green that echoed the bright new needles on the fir trees surrounding the town.

  After a weekend honeymoon at the lodge where President Franklin Roosevelt had once slept, Seth had stayed behind on the peninsula while Zoe headed off to San Antonio for more training. Afterward she’d gotten her choice assignment to serve at Joint Base Lewis-McChord’s Madigan Army Medical Center north of Olympia. So they’d moved into a rental near the base and considered themselves even more fortunate when she’d gotten to stay there for all four years of her active duty.

  Although Brianna was busy moving from town to town, hotel to hotel, Zoe had kept her up to date with phone calls and texts. After finishing her active duty, the couple had returned to Honeymoon Harbor, where they moved into a house Seth got busy renovating. Zoe had been so excited about the house, texting pictures of the progress and links to Pinterest pages of ideas she had for making the small cottage perfect. She still owed the Army four years of Individual Ready Reserves, which apparently hadn’t seemed any big deal because it only involved mustering once a year, which she could even do online.

  Tragically, just as her IRR time was coming to an end, she’d been deployed to Afghanistan, only to be killed in a suicide bombing at the hospital while on duty.

  In the midst of transitioning from the Ritz-Carlton, Kapalua on Maui to the soon-to-be opened Midas, Brianna had flown home across the Pacific for her BFF’s burial in the veterans’ section of the Harborview Cemetery, where generations of Robinsons were buried. At the time, Seth had appeared numb. Now, looking more closely at his face on her iPad’s screen, his face appeared haggard, his dark eyes haunted.

  Brianna sighed at the painful memory, swiped at a tear, checked her watch and saw that she still had another ten minutes before the pizza delivery. While Vegas might be a 24/7 city, when it came to takeout, weekend nights were especially heavy. So rather than have to interrupt her movie when the delivery guy finally arrived, she took another sip of wine and impulsively clicked on the link to the town’s real estate listings.

  When she saw the Victorian on the bluff overlooking the harbor at the top of the For Sale column, Brianna’s heart, which had been hurting for her lifelong friend and former crush, took a leap.

  Despite the unfortunate color choice someone had chosen for the exterior, it was her house! Growing up Catholic, with a high school principal for a mother, Brianna had tended to be a rule follower. One exception had been all those times she’d sneak into the abandoned three-story house with her brothers and Seth. Her brothers had claimed the house was haunted. Brianna hadn’t believed in ghosts, but even if it did have a resident wandering spirit or two, she wouldn’t have cared. The creaky old Victorian spoke to her in some elemental way. Much as that first amazing taste of a Ding Dong had done.

  Even in those days, as she’d wandered through the dusty, cobweb-strewn rooms, she’d pictured it as it must have once been. And could be again. All it had needed, she’d believed, was some love and tender care. The house, named Herons Landing by its original timber baron owner for the many great blue herons that would roost in nests in the property’s towering Douglas fir trees, was, quite literally, Brianna’s dream home. But, like her youthful dreams of Seth Harper, it would remain someone else’s reality.

  The doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of her spicy buffalo chicken pizza with Greek yogurt dressing. She logged out of the computer, paid for the meal and settled down to watch the opening of the Dragonfly Inn Gilmore Girls episode, which had inspired her to get into the hotel bu
siness. By the time all the first guests had arrived, Brianna had managed to put her encounter with the rude, gambling doctor behind her.

  Spoiler alert: it wasn’t going to prove that easy.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE LEAF RESTAURANT was located on Rainshadow Road in a bungalow in the center of town across from Discovery Square.

  In contrast to the Victorian gingerbread exterior—which the town’s historical planning commission had refused to allow to be modernized—the owner of the restaurant, a transplanted chef from the San Francisco Bay area, had opted for a clean and simple Scandinavian look. Posters of vegetables, framed in light wood, brightened the glacier-white walls. Harper Construction had done the work, and although the furniture chosen by the Portland designer made Seth feel as if he were having dinner in an IKEA store, he was, nevertheless, pleased with how it had turned out.

  He spotted the couple as soon as he came in. They were seated at a white table by the window overlooking a garden from which the chef sourced much of the restaurant’s herbs and vegetables. When Mike Mannion leaned across the table to take hold of his mom’s hand, Seth felt a very familiar twinge of loss.

  There were too many reasons he’d missed Zoe two years after her death to catalog, but one of the worst was those random, impulsive moments when the two of them would get lost together in their own private world. He missed touching her. Tasting her...

  No. Don’t go there. Remembering making love to his wife while having dinner with his mother and her maybe boyfriend, who she might even be having sex with (and didn’t that idea make him want to wash his mind out with bleach?), made this already awkward situation even weirder.

  He cleared his throat as he approached the table. They moved apart, but easily. Naturally. Not at all as if they’d been caught in any inappropriate display of affection. Yet another possible indication that they’d moved beyond dinner dates that ended with a chaste good-night kiss at the door.

  “There’s my handsome boy now!” Looking like a wood nymph in a long green suede dress and some sort of colorful stone hanging on a black velvet cord around her neck, his mother rose with a warm and welcoming smile. It had been a long time since he’d seen that smile. Having been wallowing in his own dark pit of grief for two years, Seth hadn’t paid all that much attention to gradual changes in his mother.

  Seeing her now, so vibrant and joyful, as she’d been while he’d been growing up, he realized that her vibrancy had been fading away the last few years.

  “I’m so glad you could join us!” Despite having lived nearly four decades in the Pacific Northwest, Caroline Harper’s Southern roots occasionally still slipped into her voice, bringing to mind mint juleps on a wide wraparound porch while a paddle-bladed fan spun lazily overhead.

  Seth had visited his mother’s childhood home a few times as a kid, but hadn’t been back to the South since his grandparents had died. Both on the same day, he remembered now. His grandmother had died of a sudden heart attack while deadheading roses in her garden. Her husband of sixty years had literally died of a broken heart that same evening.

  Maybe, he considered now, deep, debilitating grief ran in his family’s DNA. If so, his grandfather Lockwood had been more fortunate than he. At least the old man he remembered always smelling of cherry tobacco from his pipe hadn’t had to linger for years and years, suffering the loss of his soul mate.

  Unlike so many in the Pacific Northwest, whose wardrobes tended toward hoodies, flannel, T-shirts and jeans, his mother had started dressing all New Agey, which could have looked ridiculous, but suited her perfectly.

  Going up on her toes, she kissed his cheek. Then leaned back and sniffed what he realized was undoubtedly the aroma of grilled beef he’d brought with him from the pub. Laughter danced in her green eyes. “Seems this is your second meal of the night.”

  “Consider yourself busted,” Mannion said on a laugh as he stood up and held out a hand. “I stopped in Port Angeles on the way back from the coast last week for some ribs and brisket and I’d no sooner walked in the door of your mother’s place when she asked me if I had a death wish.”

  “You smelled of pit smoke,” she scolded him. “And that barbecue platter is a heart attack waiting to happen. At our age, we have to start taking care of ourselves. I don’t want you keeling over on me.”

  “Not going to happen,” the older man countered. “You’re not going to get rid of me that easily.”

  His mother’s obvious concern, along with that casual mention of him spending personal time at the apartment she’d moved into, as if they might already be a couple, was yet more indication that she’d moved on. While meanwhile her husband continued to insist that his wife had merely gone menopause crazy and would return home any day.

  “What do you mean, at your age?” Seth asked, determined to stay out of his parents’ personal lives as much as possible. “You look as terrific as you did back when I graduated high school.”

  “And isn’t that exactly what a dutiful son is supposed to say,” she said, dimpling prettily. He’d heard it said, down at Oley Nilsson’s barbershop, that when Caroline Lockwood had hit town, there’d been a stampede of single men vying to pass time with the pretty Georgia peach. But for some reason he’d never figure out, his gruff, uncommunicative contractor father had won not just Caroline Lockwood’s hand, but apparently her heart, as well.

  Until recently.

  As he slipped into the booth next to Mannion, she turned toward him, her smiling eyes turning as serious as a heart attack as they moved over his face. “How are you?”

  “Fine.” Another thing that might be in his Harper DNA was that the men in their family would rather have their fingernails pulled out with a pair of needle-nose pliers than ever talk about their feelings.

  He’d never cried over Zoe. Not even when he’d insisted on seeing inside the polished wooden casket that didn’t carry her body, because it had been blown to pieces, but merely an empty starched green uniform carefully pinned to the sheet and blanket inside which, he knew from reading up on the topic online, carried a plastic bag with what little searchers were able to find of his wife after the explosion. Some caring soldier—who had to have one of the toughest, most unappreciated assignments in the military—had shined the buttons to a bright glossy sheen, never knowing if anyone would see them. It was, Seth had recognized, even through the cloud of pain, a matter of respect.

  He hadn’t cried when he’d placed her wedding band, which had been recovered and delivered to him in person, along with some rescued uniform patches, into the casket. Although the heat of the blast had turned her ring into a metal lump, since she’d never taken it off from the moment he’d slid it on her finger during their Crescent Lake ceremony, he’d felt it belonged with her. And truth be told, he wasn’t about to let her parents see it. They probably had the same horrific images in their mind as he did in his and the least he’d felt he could and should do was spare them this one piece of pain. He did, however, save out the Purple Heart and Bronze Star he’d received, knowing the Robinsons would want them. As far as he was concerned, they were of no comfort and he wouldn’t mind never seeing them again.

  He hadn’t so much as misted up when the uniformed officer had handed him the flag that had seemed to take freaking forever to fold. Nor during the ceremonial volley performed by a team of eight volunteer soldiers who’d shown up from Fort Lewis-McChord to honor one of their own.

  All around him, people, even men, had been sniffling. Others, like his mother, had openly wept, while Helen Robinson, Zoe’s mother, keened in a way that had him afraid she’d throw, prostrate, herself over her daughter’s casket. Brianna Mannion, Zoe’s best friend, who’d flown in from Hawaii, had had silent tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Burke, Brianna’s older brother, who’d gone on from being a high school quarterback to play in the NFL, had flown in from a spring skiing vacation in the Swiss A
lps, arriving in town minutes before the funeral due to flight delays. Even he’d been uncharacteristically somber and had bitten his bottom lip during the gravesite military ceremony.

  But not Seth. He’d felt as if he’d turned as dry as dust. As dry as that damn violent, fucked-up country that had killed her. His only emotion was a low, seething anger that Zoe hadn’t just taken out a student loan like any normal person.

  It wasn’t like he didn’t have a good job, he’d told her during their many heated arguments over her decision. With his income from the construction company, and her earning a civilian nursing salary, they could have paid off the damn loans. Sure, it would’ve taken time. But they could have done it. Together. Unfortunately, that same tenacity he’d always admired had a flip side. She was, hands down, the most stubborn person he’d ever met. And once Zoe Robinson decided on something, heaven and earth couldn’t have budged her.

  Now, as a line furrowed his mother’s forehead, he dragged his thoughts back to their conversation and ratcheted up his blatantly fake response. “Seriously, things are going great. We’ve got a lot of work lined up, which is always good. Seems everyone wants to be ready for summer.” And punching holes in other people’s walls kept him from abusing the ones in his and Zoe’s house.

  Another furrow etched its way between her eyes. “You work too hard.”

  “When you love what you do, it’s not work.” Terrific. Now he was talking like that motivational desk calendar his insurance agent had sent him at Christmas.

  “Yet it’s necessary to have downtime,” she scolded him gently. “Silence is important. We need it to connect with our inner selves. Which then allows us to make sense of the disturbances surrounding us.”