“Stable. Sometimes he still doesn’t recognize Jakey, remembers me three times out of five. But he seems to have mellowed for good, which is incredible, and not giving the home nurses grief. So the operation did something good.”
“Speaking of something good, heard from Megan?”
With one word, Bryant’s heart clenched like the wood floor grips in the yard—squeezing, pressing, strong and unrelenting.
“No,” he finally said, and watched the firelight fingerlings as they reached up and sideways. The sun dipped low in the background.
“Sorry, bro.”
Pressing, pressing.
“It is what it is,” he said, taking a drink from the bottle.
“Gonna do anything?” said Mitch. “Or you just gonna let it go?
“Already have.”
Mitch shook his head. “Sounds like it’s stretching you, B-man. That's a good thing. Trust me, marriage is pretty much all about that. It's good to get a bit of it beforehand. Helps you know what's coming and not be so frustrated when it does.”
“No one’s getting married here.”
Mitch smiled.
“I can't even get her to seriously date me. Not exactly progress after five months.”
He kept smiling.
“Besides, it's time to acknowledge it's not going to work and move on. Focus on the yard. Date the Clawson girl.”
Mitch looked surprised. “Well, this is a turnaround. All the same things Mom said last year.”
“Yeah, but don't tell her. She'll never let me hear the end of it.” The sound of his own words—the yard, the Clawson girl—hung in the air, a heavy blanket covering his heart. The yard was going great. Kelly Clawson was great. But neither of them felt great in his soul. Neither of them filled that hollow hurting curve in his heart. He tossed a wood chunk.
Mitch nodded and leaned against the side of the truck edge. “You know, Trisha played a little hard to get. And I didn’t like it, not one bit.” He chuckled. “She’d been dating some guy, one of those wannabe muscle shirts with the big head, but I just knew she was for me. Can’t explain it. So I saw them at this bowling alley on a date, there was a whole group of us guys and girls. And I made a beeline straight for her, with muscle shirt standing right there, and said to her, ‘You might be with him today, but you’ll be going home with me tomorrow.’”
Bryant laughed into his drink. “So did she?”
“The guy turned around with a bowling ball in his hand. What do you think? But she was impressed anyway. Called me up, said okay slick, you’ve got one date. And that was that.”
“Your point?”
“You gotta humiliate yourself.”
“Been there, done that. Not enough.”
“If she’s not with you, something’s missing.”
Bryant glanced at him sideways. “I can’t control this one, Mitch. She’s not playing hard to get, it’s something else. I’m thinking for once it’s not about me. It’s like a waiting game for her to figure it out. But now she’s got this job and I just can’t play it anymore.” It hurt too much, but that wasn’t something he’d say to Mitch.
“So let her figure it out. Give her some room and she’ll come to her senses.”
“Yeah.” The tone was final, without hope.
They both sat in silence for a bit, each steeped in their own thoughts. Mitch shifted. “Well, I better get home or Trisha will have my backside. No peace, man. You single guys got it made.”
“You know it—stale pizza and sweaty socks. I’m living the dream,” said Bryant, finishing off his drink then hopping off the tailgate to put out the fire.
Bryant knew what Mitch was trying to do but he had heard the satisfaction, the energy in his voice. Mitch was about to start a great new job, with a wife he adored and three kids he craved to be with. Life was sweet.
What did Bryant have? Would he ever feel content like that—have the sweet life like that? Megan came quick and clear to his mind.
No more. It was done, over. She’d gone, without one word of asking to stay, or to work it out, or to find a solution. Now he had to accept that too.
Could he?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“You are Employee of the Decade, did you know that?” Sylvia stood in the office foyer with a bag of fast food sub sandwiches, gazing in open astonishment. “This is gorgeous, absolutely beautiful.”
Wearing a blue head-kerchief and satisfied smile, Megan rose from her bent position of painting the lower far wall, and surveyed her work. It had taken a few weekends but the pale sickly yellow walls now sported a two-tone of warm honeycomb and light brown. Sam was coming later that night to put some white chair rail around the room where the two colors met. Fresh white slat blinds now graced the windows—that had been the one big money splurge—and Megan's mom was almost finished sewing the curtains and valances in cranberry, tan, and gold for the windows. They would go up after the paint dried.
Megan nodded. Yes, she was pleased. Very pleased. At least she was getting something right in her life. “And the furniture is coming Monday, which gives this plenty of time to dry.”
Sylvia stepped gingerly on the plastic floor covering. “Are you going to tell me the overages, or do I not want to know?”
“No, no, we're right on budget,” said Megan, laying the paintbrush on top of the can lid. “The couches were at the Salvation Army, in amazing condition. And my neighbor had the coffee tables in her basement. They weren't even being used.” Megan smiled. And Mrs. Watts was making silk flower arrangements for the foyer even as they spoke, which would bring it all together.
Sylvia shook her head. “Honestly Megan, I don't know what to say. It's needed to be done, but I certainly couldn't face it.” She gave her a hug. “Or those putrid yellow walls one more day. I’ve looked at them for 14 years, did you know that? And I hate lemon yellow.”
Megan laughed.
“What I’d like to know is where are you getting the energy?” Sylvia doled out the food. “What's gotten into you?”
“No idea. But I'm going with it until I find the cure.” Megan sat in the middle of the floor with her, trying not to think about Bryant, about closing that door.
“Well, don't find it too fast. There are some plumbing issues if you get the notion.”
Chatting, they unwrapped their sandwiches and reveled in the success of the new look. Megan focused on the joy of the moment, forgetting temporarily about losing Bryant, or the foreboding she felt about the impending visit of Kara and Jackson.
After all, how bad could it be?
***
Megan felt good. The sun streamed in through her bedroom window. She stretched her arms above her head in a lazy gesture. Sunday mornings were her favorite. And finally, life was cheerful. She was helping, she was happy, she was progressing. Maybe whatever it was that had felt like emotional ankle weights had begun to lift, to leave her forever. Possibly?
Her cell phone buzzed and rang at the same time. She lazily grabbed it and pressed the button.
“Hello?” she said.
“Megan?”
Bryant. Hearing his voice, saying her name. Megan felt that familiar liquid honey spread through her. Only this time, her hands began to tremble. Just when she'd forgotten about him, or told herself she had.
“Megan, are you there?”
“Yes, I’m here . . .” she couldn’t say his name aloud or she might lose every bit of composure she owned.
“How are you doing?” His voice was tight, somewhat unnatural, but upbeat.
“Good, really good,” she said, her voice a little high. Was that a lie? No, she had just been thinking that not five minutes ago.
“That’s good. Really good.” Sounds of clearing his throat echoed through the phone. “Hey, Piper wanted me to call and tell you. It’s a little girl.”
Piper—the baby! She sat up. “She had the baby? That’s fantastic news. How are they both doing? Did everything go okay?”
“Great, both of them.
The baby’s healthy and strong, sleeps and eats all the time so I’m guessing she’s pretty happy.”
“What’s her name?”
“Serenity—Serenity Shirley, poor kid. But she’s got a load of curly blonde hair, she’s amazing.” His voice cracked. “Anyway, Piper’s doing good. She was great the whole time though she about kicked the doctor in the teeth when he didn’t give her enough pain meds.”
Megan laughed, with a wall of tears just behind it. A sudden fierce yearning for him flooded her. She wanted to reach through the phone and pull him through, all six foot two rugged self of him and muss his hair and feel his skin. Megan closed her eyes until the pain of it passed.
“That’s such fabulous news, truly, I’m so happy for them. And how’s your dad?”
“Back to bossing us around,” he said, but with a smile in his tone. “Or tries to, anyway. Doesn't have the fight he had. More mellow. He's absolute mush with Mom, will do anything for her.”
“And the yard?”
“Good.”
“Really?”
“What’s with everyone’s surprise? I haven't burned it down, if that's what you mean.”
She laughed again in spite of herself, dabbing at the corner of her eye with her finger. Was it possible to have two conflicting emotions—joy at hearing him, pain at missing him?
“No, I meant you actually sound happy about the place,” she said. Bryant quickly shared about his recent foray into sales and the changes in the yard.
“Bry, that's incredible. You've found your niche, right back where you least expected it. ‘To arrive where we started and know the place for the first time . . .’”
“T.S. Eliot, I think. I wouldn't go that far, but it's working out all right.”
Megan heard loud noises of conversation and clanking noises, like dishes.
“Oh, sorry about the noise, some of the neighbors brought food, and more food. We think Piper should have another baby just for the celebratory feast. I’ll go in the other room.”
Megan heard a coquettish voice calling him—that wasn't an old neighbor lady. She thought about the lineup of county girls. Yes, she would just bet it was a continual stream of friendly casseroles and batting eyelashes.
The air space felt suddenly awkward. They had talked about all the safe points, skirting the thin ice of conversation.
“That’s better, not so loud. So”—his tone changed—“are you packed?”
“Packed? Oh, packed.” Pause. “Well, I decided—it seemed like—” Megan looked at the ceiling and shook her head. May as well bite the bullet. “I told her no.”
“No? You're not going?” The outburst sounded more like him. But then, “That’s a surprise. Why not?” Back to measured and cool.
Why not? Thoughts entered her mind like freeway cars. Because it didn't feel right. Because I don't want to be that far away from you. Because it was too final. Because, I really don't know. Her throat tightened, making it hard to speak.
“Oh, it was a timing thing.” She put her finger on the receiving microphone so that he couldn't hear her ragged breathing. Next, she would be crying, so she fought it.
“A timing thing. I see.”
Pause.
Another call of his name. “Well, I better head out. We're going back to the hospital. She's already asked for some contraband Ben and Jerry's and is apparently anxious to get it.”
“Tell her I said hi, and congratulations.”
“Will do.”
Pause.
“Take care,” he said.
“You too,” she said.
And then the dial tone.
Megan held the phone, curled in a fetal position and ignored the knocks from her mother until the late afternoon shadows fell over her and she finally drifted back to sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Standing at the kitchen counter strewn with various salad ingredients, Megan glanced at the clock while mixing a large bowl of their traditional three-bean salad. She quickly calculated how many more salads would be needed for a group of unlucky thirteen. Compared to the last few holidays, this was a houseful. Her mother’s sister and husband had come down at the last minute, bringing their two teenage children. Plus Jillian and Derek, Megan’s three brothers, and Kara and Jackson . . .
She glanced at the clock again.
“When are they leaving?” Megan’s brother Sam strode into the kitchen, a tall, well-built young man with brown hair and deep set eyes. He smiled mischievously at her while he grabbed a chip to dunk in the dip.
“They aren’t even here yet,” she said, playfully slapping his hand away from the bowl. “It’s only 24 hours. We can buck up.”
“Okay, little sailor,” he said with a wry smile. “Maybe you can, but I’ve got plans for watching the game without Jerk-son involved. Don’t expect me to act like everything is chummy.”
“Got it, thanks for your support.” She tossed the salad, giving him a look.
He got serious, walked over and put his arm around her. “You don’t have to either, Megs. And if he gives you any grief—” he made a motion as if to throw a football, with a gleam in his eye.
Megan put down the salad spoon. “I know. And I’ll make myself scarce too, don’t worry. He’s only an annoyance.” She said it confidently but the nausea gurgled in her stomach.
He winked and stole another chip before she could reach his hand. Finishing the salad, her thoughts strayed yet again to Bryant. He hadn’t called, not once. Not in weeks. It was her fault. She knew it was crazy to think that a man would take any more of the same treatment, that he would call or come around after how she’d repeatedly told him to leave. But still she hoped.
Jillian entered the room, making a beeline for the vegetable tray spread on the counter.
“Your mom says Kara called”—she made a face—“and that they were about thirty minutes out.” She crunched a baby carrot. “I’ll tell you what I’m thankful for—car trouble. Or you would have had to spend the entire weekend with them.”
“Don’t I know it.”
Megan felt the luck of it too. She had been physically ill Thanksgiving morning until hearing her mom talk to Kara. The engine had blown a gasket. With everything closed up, and Jackson not exactly the best mechanic, they said they’d had to wait until a shop opened. Now it was Sunday and the visit was inevitable. But the trip would be blessedly short, hello and good-bye. Megan had wondered why they would even make it, except that Kara had said she missed the family so much. So she said. Megan suspected she wanted to pry some money from her mother to cover the car repairs, or the newlyweds’ overindulgent habits.
But that was Kara. Even in high school, she was unapologetic about her wants. It was nice things and hot guys, and she didn't seem to grasp the collateral damage that went with getting what she wanted. Like Beth. Megan had defended Kara—no way would her sister sneak around with a best friend's guy. That was, until they had both come clean. He had the decency to be somewhat embarrassed. But Kara had believed it to be for the best, boldly saying he wasn't right for Beth but perfect for her—everyone knew it, and Beth would find someone better. Though on a certain level it had proved true, it didn't make it right. Beth had been a good friend, a best friend, always able to overlook Kara's constant need for attention.
Megan sighed. It was those kinds of experiences, and others—like leaving her stranded at college after promising a ride—that made it hard to understand Kara. Sam had made a three-hour round-trip to get her, but Kara didn't blink an eye. As Kara became more immersed in her own social world, she and Megan drifted apart. By the time Megan left for college, and even when Kara attended Nevada Groves, they had little contact, though Megan had repeatedly tried. It was a void that left her with a lingering sadness. Megan shook her head to clear the negative thoughts and returned to the salad. "Where is everyone?"
“Your mom and Patty are looking at quilting patterns in the spare room. The teenagers are basically plugged in like an IV to the Xbox in the livin
g room. And Derek is in with your brothers watching the game. You know what football gorillas they are.” She scooped up another carrot. “Speaking of nice men, is Bryant coming?”
“Nice try.” She slammed the salad bowl harder than she had intended. “Nope, he’s not.” Megan remembered the phone call, his voice, his lack of response to her not taking the job.
“You okay?”
“I’ve got bigger things to worry about.” Which was true. That nauseating gurgle was spreading like snake poison through her insides.
Jillian came around and gave her a hug. “I’m here. Use me as an excuse any time.”
“Thanks for coming, really. I know you’ve had to squeeze it in.”
“What, free food on Sunday that I didn’t have to cook? Where’s the sacrifice?” She smiled and grabbed a spoonful of salad. “I’m here, k? Whenever, whatever, I can deck him on the spot. Give me the look and I’m your girl.”
“Wow, Charlie’s Angels and a dinner show diva.”
Jillian grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “You’ll be fine. Just be yourself, Megs.”
From the front entry Megan heard rather than saw them first. Kara’s loud voice proclaimed what a nightmare the drive had been, how the weather was so treacherous, and what a sacrifice it was, all to spend time with family.
It begins. Megan took a deep breath and put on her best company smile.
After the couple had made the initial rounds with her mom and mother’s sister, Patty, Kara and Megan exchanged a perfunctory hug and kiss. Megan only nodded to Jackson. He stood with his hands in his pockets, feet spread apart, surveying her with his spiky model hair and designer jeans with the shirt tail stylishly left out.
“Meggies,” said Kara. “Come outside and see our new car. Can you believe it?” She flounced the creamy soft fur collar of her tight white winter coat.
“I thought you were getting your old car fixed?” said Megan.
Kara rolled her eyes. “Oh, the mechanic said it would be better to start with a clean slate. That way it wouldn’t cost so much in the long run.” She nodded knowingly to her mother. “And we got the most amazing deal. Holiday purchases are really such a bargain. And Jackson is sooo good, such a salesman. Had the guy talking through his nose—saved us three-thousand dollars schmoozing him. Isn’t he amazing?”
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