All Autumn

by Sandra Owens

“You’re lucky I didn’t show up on your doorstep last night. Would have if I wasn’t sure Connor was there. Was he?”

  “For a while.”

  She scowled at me. “Am I going to have to drag it out of you? Start talking.”

  The waitress came and took our orders, giving me a minute to consider how much to tell her. Who was I kidding? Jenn was my best friend. I’d always told her everything, and would end up doing that anyway before lunch was over.

  “After making out like teenagers, he said that I needed to decide whether I still felt weird about him before we went any further,” I said after telling her everything, starting with that first kiss over a year ago.

  “And do you?”

  “Believe me, he kissed any feelings of weirdness right out of me.” I grinned at her. “The man can kiss.” I played with my Greek salad, moving around the little bit of lettuce still on my plate with my fork. “I . . .” I shrugged, not sure what I was trying to say.

  Jenn pushed her empty plate to the side. “I hear a but.”

  “He’s been my friend, our friend, since elementary school. I never thought of him that way until he kissed me the first time. Before that, Connor and Adam were like our adopted brothers.”

  “So, did it feel like you were kissing your brother?”

  “God, no. I’ve never been kissed like that.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  That was Jenn, digging until she got to the bottom of something, which was why I’d told her everything. Maybe she could help me understand what was holding me back. As long as Connor was kissing me, I had no reservations. I’d fallen asleep thinking about him, and I’m pretty sure there was a smile on my face as I drifted off. In the light of day, though, the doubts were there.

  “I don’t know. For one thing, I don’t want to lose him as a friend, and that could happen.”

  “That’s a legitimate concern, but I don’t think that’s what’s holding you back.” Jenn brushed long strands of auburn hair away from her face. I’d always envied her hair. Dylan liked to call her Red, and I loved his nickname for her.

  The only thing that would make our girl lunch better was if Savannah were here. But Savannah was back in New York. Other than her attendance at our weddings, the only way we got to see her was her face plastered all over the place. It was kind of strange to stand in line at the grocery store and see one of your best friends on the cover of a magazine.

  “Well?”

  “What if he falls in love with me?” Hearing me say that aloud sounded conceited, as if any man couldn’t help falling for me, but it could happen, and that would be a disaster.

  “What if you fall in love with him?”

  I blinked at that. “You know that’s not in the cards.”

  “Why? Because both your father and Brian are douchebags? That excuse doesn’t grant you immunity from falling in love with Connor.” She shrugged. “That could happen whether you want it to or not.”

  I sputtered a laugh. “Wrong. Because of my dad and ex-husband I have full immunity from ever falling in love again.”

  “Keep telling yourself that, but the heart is a contrary organ and seldom listens to its host’s wishes. Anyway, so what if Connor falls in love with you? That’s his problem, not yours. If you want him, I say go for it. If you don’t think you can handle the fallout that might or might not happen, then don’t.”

  “You make it sound so easy.”

  She reached across the table, putting her hand over mind. “Autumn, you know I love you like a sister. I just want to see you happy, and if Connor makes you happy, then awesome. He’s a good man, one of the best. No matter what you decide, he’ll respect that. I think the bottom line is, do you want him?”

  All I could do was nod.

  “Then get out of your own way and go for it.”

  And that was why I loved Jenny Conrad. She knew me better than myself, pointing me right where I wanted to go. And Connor was definitely where I wanted to go.

  “You’re right, but I’m saying it here. I’m not going to fall in love with him.”

  A smile appeared on her face, and then she laughed. “We’ll recall this conversation at your wedding.”

  “Stop it. So not going to be a wedding.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said and then grabbed the check before I could.

  There. Was. Not. Ever. Going to be another wedding in my life. And no, those were absolutely not famous last words.

  22

  ~ Connor ~

  “You hurt her, and I’ll never forgive you.”

  I stared at my twin. “Whose side are you on, anyway? What if she hurts me?”

  “Then I’ll have to kill her.”

  That settled me down a little. I grinned at my brother. What good was a twin if he wouldn’t kill for you?

  “She’s not going to let me hurt her,” I said, leaning forward and dangling my hands between my legs. “Between her father and Brian, she’s developed a real distrust in men. Swears the only thing we’re good for is to scratch her itch.”

  Adam choked on the beer he’d just tried to swallow. I’d stopped by his house—a beautiful log cabin, much the same as mine—to watch a game with him after Autumn had called, begging off tonight. Seemed her mother was in the middle of another meltdown or something, and Autumn’s presence was required. What else was new? I’d wanted to tell her to stop letting the woman yank her chain but had managed to resist.

  It was Autumn’s decision as to when enough was enough. I just hoped that happened soon. It bugged the hell out of me to stand by and watch Melinda Archer treat her daughter like a bouncing ball, pushing her away one minute, and in the next pulling her into all the drama that was Melinda and Ray’s lives. Although Ray pretty much ignored the existence of his daughter, which also pissed me off, at least he was consistent. Autumn knew where she stood with him.

  Melinda on the other hand was a parasite, doing her best to suck the life out of Autumn. I had a theory about that. If Melinda wasn’t happy, no one else in the world should be happy, especially her daughter.

  Before I got too angry thinking about all the crap Autumn was probably listening to about now, I went to the kitchen and grabbed a beer. Although neither one of us cooked much, Adam and I had state-of-the-art kitchens. We’d built our homes on ten acres of land that we’d divided right down the middle, where a fast-moving river tumbled over rocks and beaver damns, creating the best sounds in the world. Sometimes when I needed to think, I’d go down to the bank on my side and listen to the soothing, fast-moving water.

  Every once in a while I’d look up and see Adam on the other side, as if he knew I had things on my mind and needed him. That worked both ways, because there were times when I felt drawn to go to that spot between us and would see him on the opposite bank. We were so busy these days that we didn’t do that so much anymore.

  I missed those quiet moments with my brother. Even though we’d built a bridge over the river, connecting our properties, we’d each stay on our side, talking across the water. Our land was in a pretty valley surrounded by the Blue Ridge Mountains, our slice of heaven.

  “I don’t think you and Autumn are a good idea, but what do I know? I thought Savannah and I were, and look where that got me,” Adam said when I returned.

  “This conversation’s getting depressing.” I’d go forward with Autumn if she was willing, Adam’s thoughts on the matter be damned. I wanted her too much. And I wasn’t getting into a discussion about Savannah, which would only put Adam in a bad mood. He swore he was over her, but I had my doubts.

  “You hear there’s a parade on Saturday for Beau?”

  “You mean Sam?” He smirked. “Stopped by Mary’s for coffee and a muffin this morning, and that’s all she could talk about. Sam the Hero this. Sam the Hero that. Said she knows someone who knows someone who knows a Hollywood movie producer.”

  Mary was a scary lady. Once she got something in her head, you’d better get out of her way. “Don’t let Autumn he
ar you call him Sam. She’ll knock you silly.”

  “True. All I’ll say is I sure hope you know what you’re doing, bro.” He set his empty bottle on a side table and then propped his feet up on the coffee table. “Time for the game.”

  I’d come over to watch the hockey game with him. The Nashville Predators had made it into the playoffs, and since Nashville wasn’t all that far from Blue Ridge Valley, we considered that we had a team to root for. Plus, we’d graduated from the University of Tennessee, so that added another layer to our loyalty to Tennessee sports teams.

  “Sure hope we get some rain soon,” he said. “Not liking how dry it’s getting.”

  “Yeah, we’re going to start seeing wildfires if we don’t.” The brief rain the night Autumn and I had gone to see Taren Blanton hadn’t helped much. It had been the driest winter and spring on record, and one cigarette tossed carelessly out a car window or someone letting a trash burn get out of control, and we’d have trouble on our hands.

  Adam and I were not only on the volunteer rescue team, but we were volunteer firemen. Partly because we believed in giving back to the town where we’d found so much success, and partly because our parents had died in a house fire. It had happened during our first year of college, and one question would always haunt us: if we’d been home, would we have been able to save them? We’d never know, but fighting fires, maybe saving others, helped to deal with the grief.

  “You give any thought to what we talked about?”

  I had my head resting on the back of the sofa and rotated it to face Adam. “The old grocery store property?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It has potential for what we want.” At present our showcase homes were mine and Adam’s, which meant we took prospective buyers looking for a custom-built log home on tours of ours. We both hated people tramping through where we lived. Our idea, now that we were in a position to afford it, was to buy a property large enough to build three model homes.

  Right now one section of my three-car garage had been converted into a sales office. And although selling our homes was my main business, I was a licensed real estate agent and had listings all over the county. Operating out of my garage wasn’t the best setup, and along with the model homes we’d build on the property, we’d have a sales office. I couldn’t wait to get my house and garage back to myself.

  “Potential is an understatement, Connor. It’s perfect. Plenty of land for three model homes, along with more than adequate parking. And it’s right on Main Street, so we couldn’t get more visible than that.”

  “True. Any problem with getting building permits that you can see?” We’d have to tear down the existing building, which shouldn’t be a problem for the town council since the old grocery store was an abandoned eyesore.

  “No. Old Man Humphrey’s asking too much, but I think you can sweet-talk him down on the price. He’s had it for sale for six years now.”

  “I’ll approach him next week, tell him there might be an offer. I won’t tell him it’s us until we can agree on a price.”

  “Good thinking. He thinks we have more money than God. He knows we’re the ones interested, he’ll double the price.”

  I snorted. “No doubt.”

  We settled in to watch the game. Toward the end I glanced at my watch. It was getting late. Autumn had promised to call me when she got back home. Either she had forgotten or she was still at her mother’s. I didn’t like either option.

  23

  ~ Autumn ~

  My mother greeted me at the door with red eyes and a splotchy face. I was expecting that, though, since she’d been sobbing on the phone when she’d called. No matter how much I tried, she’d refused to tell me what was wrong, but I knew it would be the same old, same old.

  “What did he do this time?” I asked, walking past her. To say I was peeved was putting it mildly. I was supposed to see Connor tonight. After my lunch with Jenn I’d given it a lot of thought and had come to the conclusion that I wanted more Connor kisses and whatever else he had to offer, and there would be no weirdness about it at all.

  I shouldn’t have answered the phone when I saw Mom’s name on the screen. Truthfully I almost didn’t, but then she would have continued to call me every five minutes until I answered. Anytime I tried to put her off when she demanded I come over, she’d hint that her life wasn’t worth living, and there would be a thinly veiled threat that she would do something drastic.

  Although I was pretty sure it was her usual dramatics, I’d never forgive myself if she actually did do something horrible because I wasn’t there when she needed me. So here I was, for like the millionth time, bringing along my shoulder for her to cry on. I was so tired of it.

  “He wants a divorce.” She threw herself down on the sofa and wailed.

  It was going to be one of those kind of nights. I dropped my purse on the coffee table, then headed straight to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of wine. How much more of my parents’ drama was I supposed to take? Some of my earliest memories were of their fights, how they’d thrown accusations at each other, the tears, the slamming of doors.

  Not that I blamed my mother for my father’s affairs, but I’d once overheard him tell her that she was a cold fish. I’d decided right then and there that when I got married, my husband would never have reason to sling those words at me. That accusation had stuck in my mind when I’d showed up at Brian’s dealership wearing nothing but a raincoat. I wasn’t a cold fish, and it occurred to me that possibly my mother wasn’t either, that maybe it was my father’s way of putting the blame for his weakness back on her. The same way Brian had blamed Lina for his cheating.

  Early in our relationship I’d told Brian about my father’s infidelities and how it had sucked the life out of my mother. I’d told him I would never tolerate cheating because I would never allow myself to become my mother, withering away a little each time she caught him screwing around on her. Brian had claimed to understand and had sworn he would never do that to me. I’d wanted so badly to believe him—to be in love with a man who would never treat me like that—that I’d ignored the warning signs.

  Well, never again. I put my hands on the counter, taking deep breaths, seeking calm before I went back to the living room. It was getting harder and harder to deal with my parents.

  “He’s said that before,” I reminded her when I returned. “Often.”

  “Well, he means it this time.”

  And I’d heard that before, more than once. He never followed through because usually his latest squeeze would get tired of him for this reason or that and kick him out before anything could come of it. Mom would then welcome him back with open arms.

  “Let him get the damn divorce, Mom. In fact, you divorce him.” She’d never threatened to leave my dad, and I had a feeling that if she did, if he had to worry about her not sitting home, miserable without him, he’d change his ways. I think in his warped way he loved her. He just didn’t know how to keep his pants zipped.

  “But I love him.” Her lips trembled as she gave me an accusing glare. “You don’t understand.”

  “You think not?” Leftover anger from a year ago surged through me. Unable to sit still, I set my wineglass on the table, then stood, going to the window, and looking out into the night. “You think it didn’t kill me when I caught Brian screwing around on me? Do you know why I refused to give him another chance?” I turned, and at her blank face, I realized she’d never get it, never change. But I had to try.

  “Because of you and Dad. I don’t remember a time when he wasn’t either moving out or moving back in. Frankly I think it’s pretty amazing that I’m not more screwed up than I am. But I promised myself years ago that I’d never let myself be you.”

  “That’s a mean thing to say, Autumn.”

  “If that’s how you see it, I’m sorry.” I moved back to the sofa, sitting close to her and taking her hand in mine. “I do remember that there was a time when you used to smile. You were happy and so pretty
. I think that was probably when I was around five or six. Then as the years passed, you changed, Mom. Each time he left or you kicked him out, you got more miserable, more bitter. You stopped laughing. And this is going to sound really mean, but I’m going to say it anyway. You stopped being pretty.”

  Her lips thinned, and she snatched her hand away. “I didn’t ask you to come over to tear me to pieces with cruel words. You’re my daughter. It’s your job to be here for me when I need you.”

  Seriously? Long-held rage and hurt stormed to the surface—the uncertainties during my childhood, dreading coming home at the end of a school day, never knowing if my dad would be living with us or not, never sure what condition my mother would be in—and I let the words tumble out that I’d never said but had always wanted to.

  “No. You have it backward. A mother’s job is to be there for her children, and you never have. It’s always been about you. Maybe that’s why Dad doesn’t stick around. Perhaps he gets just as tired as I do of all your drama.” And it was true. Even during the times he was with us, it was like living onstage in a Broadway farce. It drained the soul.

  She slapped me.

  “Maybe I deserved that,” I said, putting my palm on my stinging cheek, shocked that she’d hit me, something she’d never done before. What hurt more than the slap, though, was that she didn’t seem sorry she’d done it. “But honestly I don’t think I can go on like this, dropping everything no matter what’s going on in my life and running to your side when you demand it. You need to talk to someone, a professional. Will you let me look into that, find someone who can help you find your way back to being happy again?”

  “I’m not crazy, Autumn, and I resent you implying that I am. If anyone needs to see a psychiatrist, it’s your father.”

  “Actually, you both do. So the answer’s no? Because if it is, then I’m done with both of you.” Nothing else I’d ever said had worked, so maybe it was time for some tough love. That and I really couldn’t keep on like this with her. I was also coming to believe that I was enabling her by being the dutiful daughter, presenting myself on demand and commiserating ad nauseam with poor Melinda Archer.