Wrong Number

by Laura Brown

Mom rounded the display case and put a firm, work-hardened hand on my cheek.

  “He’s your family.” She sighed. “He was wrong. We all have the scars, external in your case, internal in all our cases. But when he left, I told him when he was ready, to come back.”

  Hannah joined us. “That’s twenty-two years.”

  Mom rocked a hand side to side. “He tried first at six months, then a year, then two years. I wasn’t ready. I was busy juggling the bakery and Jake’s recovery. Your father was the last person I wanted to see. He got the hint and tossed in a few extra dollars for your childcare expenses when he could. We’re both good at not being the first person to initiate contact, so things stopped there.”

  A longing appeared on her face. I blinked, thinking my head played tricks on me. It didn’t.

  “You want to see him.”

  “I loved him once, and in a way I still do. You two are a product of that love. We spent fourteen years together, started this bakery, helped put recipes together. The fire changed the future, not the past. And I know we had problems. We were likely heading toward divorce anyway. Doesn’t change how we started.”

  I paced in a circle. Words bubbled to the surface. Maybe it was easier for them to forgive and forget, but they didn’t have the scars I did, the physical and the mental. Before the words tumbled free, I thought of Avery, of what she said. Would I be here without the fire? Would I be with her? I didn’t know. I had no idea who I’d be, and I liked the man I’d become. I liked that I could relate to Avery because we both had disabilities.

  When I stopped pacing, I looked out the window and froze. Here we were, having a family meeting out front about Dad, and there he was, peeking in the far corner of the window. He didn’t see me, not from his angle. All he’d see were some of our pastries.

  I cleared my throat, working at getting the lump down.

  “Well, if you’re serious about talking to him…” With one hand I gestured toward the man.

  Mom and Hannah turned. Hannah covered her mouth and Mom stared, her shoulders slumping. Dad still didn’t see us. He looked just as shitty as he had the other times, perusing our pastries like a man who couldn’t afford a single one. Seconds passed in the most awkward family reunion in history.

  “Kids,” Mom’s shaky voice began. “That is the look of a man who has regretted his past sins and worn that regret every day since.” Her eyes met mine. “We’d be good to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

  Before I could respond, she went to the door and exited on the other side. Hannah moved close to me, leaning shoulder to shoulder as we watched. Their mouths moved, but Dad stayed at the corner and Mom by the door. I tried to remember them being romantic or close and I couldn’t.

  The door from the kitchen swung open.

  “Jake, have you eaten because…” Avery took in the situation.

  “Meet my dad,” I said. Wanted to whisper it but knew better with her.

  “Oh, I can go…”

  She gestured behind her, but I reached out and grabbed her hand, needing her there, even if it was one more person to worry about.

  “Do you think he’ll come in or head off?” Hannah whispered.

  “I don’t know. He’s good at running away.”

  Avery squeezed my hand.

  Mom glanced inside at us, eyebrows raised. I held my breath and deferred to Hannah. After all, I’d seen the guy. She hadn’t. I didn’t dare look at my sister, so I don’t know how she responded, but a minute later, Mom came back in. With Dad.

  “I like what you’ve done with the place, Nell,” Dad said.

  No thanks to you.

  Mom smiled. “That’s me and the kids. They’ve got their own blood, sweat, and tears in this place.”

  Dad nodded and settled on Hannah. “Bean, you’ve grown up even more beautiful.”

  Hannah’s cheeks flushed and she smoothed a section of hair behind her ear. It was getting long. I needed to check if she wanted it cut again. “Thank you.”

  Silence lingered, sticking to each of us in a slimy mess.

  Dad focused on Avery, and my body tightened. “You must be Avery. Nell mentioned you.”

  Avery nodded and pulled back. “I should probably leave—”

  “Don’t even think about it,” Mom said before I had the chance. “You’re practically family and we could use an icebreaker.”

  Mom moved behind the display case and plucked out a cupcake. I didn’t stop to check which one.

  “This is one of her cupcakes. The girl’s got skills.”

  Steve accepted the cupcake. I couldn’t get over how out of place he looked. Years ago, he’d be behind the counter, ringing up purchases, a part of the establishment. Now, his clothes were worn, his hair overgrown. He looked like a charity case.

  “This is the best cupcake I’ve ever tasted. Sorry, Nell.”

  Mom laughed. “Don’t apologize to me. I told you the girl had talent.”

  “What are you doing here, Dad?” Hannah asked, with a heavy inflection on the last word.

  He cleared his throat. “The company I work for opened up a new branch here. I volunteered to transfer.”

  “Why now? Why not ten years ago or ten years in the future?”

  Had to hand it to my sister, she pulled no punches. I was the silent one, Mom the chatty one, Hannah the interrogator.

  A small smile appeared on Dad’s face. “Still busting balls. I don’t know why now.”

  Hannah exchanged a look with me. We both smelled bullshit.

  Hannah took a step back. “Well, nice to see you again. When you want to share the truth, you know where to find us. Same place you could always find us.”

  She turned and left, smells of fresh baked goods floating in on the breeze the door created.

  “Confessing was never your strong point, was it, Steve?” Mom asked.

  Dad looked at the floor.

  I’d had enough. “Mom, you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Good, because I wasn’t. I backed up to the door and pulled Avery through. Once on the other side, I placed my head against the wall.

  Avery rubbed my back. “That can’t be easy.”

  I didn’t say anything. If I did, my voice would crack or my eyes would tear, and that man wasn’t worth it. Not since I was eight.

  Avery patted my back twice. “I’m going to check on Hannah. I’ll be back.”

  Then her warmth, her scent, all left me alone with the regular bakery smells and the knowledge that I should be in the front protecting Mom.

  I moved when I heard Avery’s voice heading my way.

  She had two hands on Hannah’s shoulders, steering her toward the back door. “You’re going home. I’ll stay and take care of things.”

  Hannah collected her coat. “I really should see him.”

  “I don’t think he’s going anywhere. He doesn’t deserve anything. You do what’s right for you.”

  “Finding the bottom of some bottle sounds about right,” my sister mumbled before leaving.

  I grabbed my phone.

  Me: Be safe. Do you need a friend to check on you?

  Hannah: I’ll be fine.

  Yeah, like that was foolproof.

  “You leave as well,” Avery said.

  My head snapped as I swung it toward her. “My shift is on.”

  “I’m here. I’ll let you know when he’s gone.”

  Her eyes were open, full of warmth and caring. She didn’t know us long, or know all the details of our past, but she knew enough and had thrown herself right in where we needed her.

  I leaned down and captured her mouth in a quick but powerful kiss. “Keep an eye on Mom.”

  *

  I ended up at Hannah’s.

  She poured us each a large glass of wine. “I really need something stronger around here that isn’t designated for baking.”

  I took a gulp instead of a sip. “This is an emergency. Break them out.”

  Hannah gasped and put her drink on
the table, untouched. “You never touch a baker’s stuff. Even in emergencies.”

  I laughed and leaned back. “That was fucking weird.”

  Now she picked up her wine. And sipped, no gulps for her. “He really did look like crap. He could use a haircut.”

  “Good. There are plenty of other hairdressers around. I’ll make him look worse.”

  “No, you won’t. Because hair to you is like baking to me.”

  Damn. She was right.

  “Besides, he’s our father.”

  “He’s the man who caused the fire. I have memories of being part of the flames because of that man. He should look like shit.” I went for another gulp and ended up finishing it all.

  “Woah, slow down there. Daddy issues much?”

  I gestured to my bad leg. “What do you think?”

  She sipped again. “I think you’ve got a job you love, friends who have your back, and a wonderful woman who doesn’t think that’s an issue at all.”

  I scoffed.

  “She’s got her own issues. If it wasn’t for your leg, would you still accept them so willingly?”

  I opened my mouth, ready to answer with absolute conviction. The words didn’t come. I stole some of her wine. “I’d like to say yes, we were raised to be open and accepting. But in reality, I don’t know. None of us know who we’d be today if things had gone differently.”

  Hannah took her glass back. “Exactly. And Avery is your match. Do me a favor and don’t lose her.”

  Her words took root in my brain, turning them inside out and upside down, looking for some trick to the answer, even though one didn’t exist.

  “That’s not up to me.”

  Hannah put her glass down. “What happened?”

  I shouldn’t be saying anything. But between Mom’s vacation, Dad’s arrival, and Avery’s plans, my resistance was shot. “This stays between the two of us.”

  Hannah mimed zipping her lips. “Unless I need to warn Avery.”

  “Her original plan was to move back home and open her own bakery.”

  Hannah’s eyes grew wide. She stared at me, unblinking.

  “She’s leaving.” She shook her head. “No, you said original. That can change if you give her reason to.”

  “I can’t make her stay if that’s not what she wants.”

  “Yes, you can! I see how you feel about her. How she feels about you. Neither one of you will be happy if she leaves.”

  “I’m trying. I don’t think it’s working.” And that grated. Every time we were together, it was damn near magic. If she couldn’t see that, if she didn’t feel it, what the hell could I do?

  “Well, try harder. Otherwise, you’re both idiots because she’s already a part of us.”

  My heart tugged, but in two different directions. “And people who are a part of us have a history of leaving.”

  “Only Dad.”

  “And Diana.”

  Hannah set her glass on the able. “Okay, big brother, time for some tough love. Diana was never going to stay. I know you loved her or thought you loved her, but you’ve got so much more with Avery than you would have ever had with Diana. She left because you two had run your course; so don’t you for one minute lump Avery into those antics.”

  “Because she works at the bakery?”

  “Because of her heart.”

  Silence stretched out, encompassing both of us in its heavy weight. I wanted to believe her. I knew my feelings for Avery were stronger than anything I had felt for Diana. Didn’t change the fact that I knew Avery’s plans, and I refused to let a third person trample over my heart.

  Hannah raised her glass. “To Dad and whatever mystery brought him back. To Avery and whatever mystery will make her realize she belongs here.”

  She brought the glass to her lips.

  I tried to force a reassuring smile, but it fell short even to me. Hannah was more interested in her wine than anything, so I let the façade fade. I wanted Avery to belong here, wanted it more than my next breath. But who was I to say she belonged here and not back home? I didn’t know her there, didn’t know what she left or the dynamics or any of that shit. I could be looking at things through my own bleeding heart and ignoring her needs.

  Sucked, but there it was. I needed to look at what Avery needed and not what I wanted. An answer might exist in the text thread we shared, back when she was Wrong Number. If I had the balls to find it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Avery

  I wiped the counter down again in an attempt to keep myself busy during a quiet moment. After Steve had left, things had been busy, and I bustled back and forth, completing Hannah’s and Jake’s jobs. Now there was a lull in the customers, all the bakers had gone, even a worn-out Nell, and I was seriously contemplating singing show tunes.

  With nothing else to do, I brushed the rag across the countertop again, though it didn’t make any difference to the spotless surface. How did Jake do this two nights a week? My job involved constant movement and activity. This was the opposite.

  Text. Since I’d arrived here, we sent some form of text messages back and forth. My cheeks heated at the thought of some of the things we’d shared while he sat here. Empty or not, it was still the bakery.

  In need of a distraction, I set up a call to my mother. She answered, her voice garbled.

  “Mom? You okay?”

  A beat passed before she spoke. “Yes, sorry, was trying to eat something. How are you?”

  My mind whirred. Did I hear that? “Trying to eat something?”

  Since when did Jews need to try? We loved food.

  “I realized I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. It’s the damn carbs. I think I have a gluten sensitivity.”

  I gasped. Sure, we had a few gluten-free items at the bakery, but I loved gluten and Mom did as well. I’d have to research more recipes and see what I could come up with. “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, I’ll be fine. All about moderation. Now, tell me about you.”

  The words spilled out before I fully thought them. “I got the rugelach recipe.”

  “Mazel tov! I knew they’d see what talent you had.”

  If only that was all it was. Talent. Not heart or my closeness to the family. Mom still held the view I had before I left. But everything had changed, bringing a heavy weight to my shoulders.

  “So, are you coming home or have I lost you to a family that still accepts gluten?”

  The weight of it all forced me to sit on the stool they kept for Jake. “I don’t know. Home was my plan.”

  “Home would be nice, but that’s what I want. What do you want?”

  I bit my lip. It all boiled down to the same question. One I had no answer to. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, that’s the beauty of time. You stay right where you are. Learn more. When the time is right, the answer will come to you.”

  “And if I don’t come home?”

  “I’ll save up all my gluten foods for visiting you.”

  I laughed, thought of the bakery Erik and I had designed. A cozy shop with windows to display our goods out front, intricate menu holding all our creations. The promise I made as I placed a cupcake on his grave during his headstone unveiling and the way the clouds parted for a few seconds, as though I gave him peace. “I still want my dreams.”

  “Dreams change. Oof, this dinner is not sitting well.”

  “More carbs?”

  “No, yogurt. Yogurt is gluten-free, right?”

  “I think so.”

  “Oh well. It goes along with my new diet. I’ll be skinnier than you soon.”

  I thought of the last time I saw her, how her clothes appeared baggy then. And if I noticed it back then… “How much have you lost?”

  “You know I hate the scale. My clothes are nice and loose.”

  That didn’t sound good, not when they already had been loose, but she denied it. A flicker of worry nagged at me. “It hasn’t been that long since I’ve seen you.”

  “A
very, darling, time has passed. You’ve been so happy you haven’t noticed.”

  I had been happy. “You’ll tell me if something is wrong, won’t you?”

  “Of course. Now quit worrying about me. It’s my job to worry about you.”

  “It goes both ways.”

  “No, you worry about that boy of yours and, one day, you’ll worry about children.”

  I rolled my head. “Now you want grandkids?”

  Mom laughed. “Always. I’m going to go rinse this out. Be good. Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  I disconnected the call and added Mom to my mental list of people to worry about. Which brought my thoughts back to Jake. I opened his text thread, scrolling up to the days before we knew each other in person. Those not so innocent texts felt like a lifetime ago. If I followed my plans, they’d be memories I’d hold dear. Jake wouldn’t leave his family and, with my concerns about Mom, I didn’t know if I could permanently leave mine.

  All thoughts about Mom faded as I stumbled across the picture Jake sent me of his very happy member after we had been fooling around. I bit my lip, my thumb almost brushing the image but not so much that my phone thought it was a command. This was the distraction I needed. If only he was here with me, then maybe I could get my mouth on him.

  The door opened and I jumped, my phone clattering to the counter. I scrambled to send the screen to home, my cheeks burning. Shit, shit, shit! I forced myself to appear calm and looked up to see how much the customer saw. My spine relaxed when I found out it was Jake.

  “You scared me.”

  He grinned, the tension of earlier less apparent. “So I see.”

  And before I realized what was happening, he swiped my phone.

  “No.” I lunged for him, desperate to reach the phone, but he was too tall and too far away. “Don’t do that.”

  His warm eyes met mine, a cocky grin on his face. Guess that attempt to get to the home screen failed. “Can I help you?”

  “Oh God.” I covered my face with my hands, half expecting my cheeks to burst into flames. “I was scrolling through our texts.”

  “And opening inappropriate pictures at work. Nice one, Wrong Number.”

  I shook my head, laughter bubbling up. “You sent it to me.”