“You knew we broke up in the summer. He’s history.”
“What’s wrong with him, Brin?”
“Everything. Phinn and I fought all the time.”
“You get used to it.”
“Like you and Isobel?” Brinley asked.
Dillon didn’t reply to that. “Phinn is one of us, Brin.”
“One of us? And who isn’t one of us? Is that what you’re driving at, Dill?”
“Figure it out if you know what’s good for you.”
Brinley shook his head. “I never expected you to be Phinn’s surrogate, Dill. You’re my brother. You’re supposed to protect me.”
“I am.”
“No. You’re protecting your own interests. Marriage is not a business transaction. You know who said that to me? Our baby sister, Zoe.”
Brinley wasn’t sure any longer if she wanted to have Christmas dinner with her brother. She wanted to be as far away as possible from him.
Brinley remembered visiting a sobbing Isobel the months before the divorce had been finalized. She had spent the entire afternoon listening to her sister-in-law lament about having to give up a lucrative career to mold her life around Dillon’s. Dillon was a crazy workaholic, she had said. Isobel, depressed and lonely, had wished her children had a father who was with them. Ethan had missed camping with his dad in the summer. Elisa missed sitting on Dillon’s lap as he read them stories. Neither of them cared that Dillon put money into their bank accounts so they could do whatever they wanted. They’d rather have his presence even if he had brought them nothing but himself.
They’d rather have him.
That could never be. Dillon was married to his work first and foremost.
Perhaps Dillon shouldn’t have come to Sea Island. Perhaps he should’ve gone to Hawaii to see his kids.
Instead, he had chosen to be here with Brinley only to have her find out that he had come to ask her to reconcile with Phinn. What did Dillon know about love? What was in it for Dillon if Brinley were to get back together with Phinn?
“I’m leaving Brooks Investments, so you don’t need to fight me anymore about making decisions,” Brinley said. “Isn’t that enough?”
“What are you talking about?”
“There must be a connection between Brooks Investments and your coming here to tell me to get back with Phinn.”
“Must there always be a connection?”
“With you it’s mandatory. So what is it, Dill?” Brinley sat down on one of the armchair arms.
Dillon lit another cigarette. “Phinn wants a job at Brooks.”
“You can’t trust him. He’s a spendthrift.”
“But you can trust Ivan McMillan, the near-bankrupt violinist with the three mortgages and hundreds of thousands of dollars in credit card debts?”
Brinley sprang off the armchair. “Where did you get that information?”
She couldn’t believe Ivan was in such a bad situation. Yun is going to lose her house.
“Helen Hu. Who else? With that broken wrist he’s going to be unemployed soon.”
Oh no. Lord Jesus, how do I respond?
“Ivan is not working for Brooks, so you needn’t be concerned about him,” Brinley said. “In fact, he’s not even asking for money.”
“No? Then how do you explain Plumb Good bills?”
“That’s out-of-pocket, Dill.” Brinley didn’t back away. The way to deal with Dillon was to face him front and center. He liked a good fight. The dirtier the better. But now that Brinley believed in Jesus, she didn’t like Dillon’s dirty fights anymore.
She had been reading her Bible every day, and there was this verse she had read in the last few days about overcoming evil with good. Dillon wasn’t necessarily evil, but his tactics were not necessarily good either.
“You fixed his commode.” Dillon laughed.
“It was more for his grandmother. She’s ninety-seven years old. She’s on a walker. I fixed it so she didn’t have to walk all the way to the back of the house. Indict me if you will. For the record, Ivan reimbursed me for it.”
With a home-cooked meal, but Brinley didn’t have to tell Dillon the details.
Dillon was silent. Then: “You’ve always had a heart for needy people.”
Brinley knew he wasn’t going to apologize.
“So I’m needy, Brinley. Help me out. Tell you the truth, I don’t want you to leave Brooks Investments. Since Parker died…” His voice choked up.
“I miss Parker too.” Brinley had invited his widow to join them for Christmas Eve dinner, but Riley and her two children were visiting her parents in Houston through the New Year.
Dillon regained his composure. “Maybe you can help me transition your position to a new sales VP.”
“How long do you think that’ll take?”
“I’m thinking a month.”
“Kanisha already knows what I do.”
“I’m not sure I want to keep her.”
“For the record, Dill, I do recommend her.” Brinley realized then for the first time that she had always pronounced the first syllable in her brother’s name the same way she pronounced “deal.” True to form, Dillon was always about making deals. Kanisha would get along fine with him. “When do you go back to Atlanta?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
Brinley was sad that her family had grown apart. Over the years, people moved away, lives changed, schedules differed. She prayed that someday when she had a family of her own that she and her husband would be able to start and keep a tradition of yearly family reunions with their children and grandchildren. Lord willing.
“Could you take Phinn’s present back to him?” Brinley asked as calmly as she could. “I’m not opening it.”
“Sure, sis, but I think—”
“Do I tell you what to do with Isobel?”
“No.”
“Then let me handle my own personal life, Dill.”
“All right. It’s just—”
“Dillon.”
“Okay.” Dillon got up. “Now that we’ve had our little heart-to-heart talk, let’s go eat.”
Well, it is Christmas Eve, after all.
Besides, maybe she could tell him about the Christ of Christmas. Possibly.
Or not.
Yun had said people had to decide for themselves whether to choose God.
“Is Aunt Ella back?” Brinley asked.
“She’s meeting us at The Cloister.”
“Someone dropping her off?”
“She’s there with Herbert or Hopper or somebody.”
“Hiram.”
“That’s it. Hiram. Apparently Aunt Ella has news for us.”
“News? What news?”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Brinley was sad to see her brother go home right after breakfast on Christmas Day. But she was glad that he agreed to return that gift from Phinn, whatever it was. It was a small box of something and Brinley could guess he wanted to resuscitate their dead relationship.
And she was glad that Mom and Dad had called from Paris to wish them a merry Christmas though she didn’t feel that it had been necessary for them to apologize to Dillon for taking the family jet. It was Dad’s BBJ and he could fly that plane wherever and whenever he wanted.
After dropping Dillon off at the Brunswick Golden Isles Airport, Brinley drove Aunt Ella to Brunswick Senior Living Community for lunch with Hiram and his friends. Her news last night could’ve been alarming. Brinley was thankful to God that Aunt Ella hadn’t pulled a Zoe. It was a relief to her that all Aunt Ella had announced was that she was moving into the Brunswith Senior Living Community the day after Christmas.
Whew. At least Aunt Ella hadn’t said she was moving in with Hiram, though they would, technically, be in the same building.
Aunt Ella’s one packed suitcase was at the back of the SUV together with a couple of gifts that Brinley had purchased for the McMillans.
“I still can’t believe they expedited your application to live here
.” Brinley pulled up to the community gate.
“It does help when you offer to buy up lands on both sides of the property.”
“You what?” Brinley nearly slammed on her brakes.
“To expand BSLC so more retirees can live here. Make it a resort.”
“They’re going to give me a nurse on call around the clock, three meals a day and all the snacks I want, plus friends. That alone is worth it, dear.” Aunt Ella placed a warm hand on Brinley’s arm.
Brinley could barely look at her.
“I hope you’ll come to visit me often, Brinley. You’re the only family who does.”
“I will, Aunt Ella. I will.”
“Thank you for my Bible,” Aunt Ella said as Brinley pulled to a stop in front of the BSLC cafeteria entrance.
“Did you download it?”
“Yes. Hiram helped me put it on my smart phone. He’s very techno-savvy.”
Techno-savvy? “Where did you pick up that word?”
“Don’t underestimate us seniors, child.”
Before Brinley could figure out how to get Aunt Ella into the building and park the car, Aunt Ella was shrieking in delight.
“Look, Hiram’s over there.” Aunt Ella pressed a spindly finger to her heaving chest.
Brinley slowed down the SUV in case any overly excited senior walked into her path. She parked the vehicle right in front of Aunt Ella’s welcoming party, which included Hiram leading the pack and the people whom Brinley recognized had given Hiram a hard time during his Wednesday night sermon.
That very night Brinley accepted Jesus Christ as her personal Lord and Savior.
It was still sinking in.
Brinley was glad that she hadn’t missed the opportunity to thank Hiram for the sermon when he joined them for Christmas Eve dinner at The Cloister the evening before. It had been interesting for Brinley to see Dillon’s shocked and disappointed reaction as Hiram explained to him what Brinley had done.
Seeing Aunt Ella so happy with her new friends in the latter years of her life made Brinley resolve that she would enjoy life on earth, however short or long it was, and to know God more, the God who had come down to earth to save her soul.
What Christmas is about.
* * *
One more stop for Brinley. She pulled up to the McMillans’ house to find the whole place decorated for Christmas. There were icicles hanging off the porch railings, and even a plastic tree next to the two cheap plastic chairs. Before she could reach the front door, Ivan and Yun burst out shouting, “Merry Christmas!” to her as Ivan began to sing “Go Tell It on the Mountains.”
Brinley tried to keep her face set to “grin and bear it,” but every time she clapped for it to be over, Ivan went through the refrain again. And again.
By the time they got inside, Brinley thought her ears were going to pop.
How could such a handsome dude have such a lousy voice?
God sure has a sense of humor.
“Look what arrived yesterday.” Yun pointed to the motorized wheelchair. She hugged Brinley. “You shouldn’t have.”
Brinley realized that maybe she shouldn’t have. With Ivan’s left wrist out of commission, who was going to help Yun carry the wheelchair to and from places in their truck? Perhaps people from church could help. But when they got home? Then what?
“Thinking too much again?” Ivan whispered in her ear as he ran his good arm around her waist. “I talked to Matt. Sundays and whenever we go to church, he’s picking us up with his van. It has plenty of room for the wheelchair. It’s taken care of.”
Brinley nodded.
God provides for His own.
“Look what Ivan got me.” Brinley pointed to her violin brooch that Ivan had dropped into her palm after dinner the night before. “Charleston. 1812. You know I love old things.”
Yun gave Ivan two thumbs up. “I have something for you too, Brinley.”
Brinley looked to where Yun pointed. She stepped over to the tree to pick up a gift bag. She pulled out the red and green tissues to find another box inside. It was a Bible. She opened it to read the inscription from Yun. “Thank you. This is sweet.”
“Sorry it’s large print,” Yun said. “Only way I could see the verses I underlined for you.”
“You took the trouble?” Brinley flipped through the pages. Here and there, Yun had carefully underlined with a straight ruler some key verses. “This is too much, Yun.”
“Not too much to get you a jumpstart on your Christian walk with the Lord.”
“I will read these.”
“I hope so, Brinley.”
Brinley put the Bible back into the gift bag and placed it by the door so she didn’t forget to take it with her on her way out. “Oh, and in the merriment, I forgot to give Ivan his Christmas present.”
“No more, Brin. No more. You’ve given me too much.”
“Just one more thing.”
“Let it be under five dollars.” Ivan shook his head.
“Could be.” Brinley whipped out an envelope from her goose-down jacket pocket. “Merry Christmas, Ivan.”
She watched Ivan open the envelope. She was happy to see that Ivan could move his left fingers extending out of his cast. She waited as Ivan read the Christmas card and the tear-off bookmark.
“Trust God. I like that.”
“Proverbs 3:5-6. It’s the verse that Dad told me about. Said it’s pretty common, but that I should memorize it.”
“That’s good, Brin.” He turned the bookmark over. Brinley watched his reaction. “Free hugs and kisses for a year.”
“Does that qualify as ‘under five dollars’ for you?”
“No, Brin. This is priceless.” He stepped toward Brinley. “May I claim one now?”
Brinley wrapped her arms around Ivan’s neck, pulled him toward her, and kissed him gently. Once.
Then she whispered in his ear. “Feel free to claim a kiss for every scar.”
Ivan looked stunned.
“I smell gingerbread cookies.” Brinley turned to Yun. “May I have some?”
“All you can eat, dear.”
Brinley left Ivan standing there in the family room as she headed for the kitchen with a chuckling Yun in her motorized scooter.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
New Year’s Eve was rainy and wet. Ivan decided to stay at home with Grandma instead of attending the SISO concert at the Old City Hall in downtown Brunswick. The event was indoors, but the pain in his left wrist bothered him. In a few days he’d be back at the doctor’s office for them to take a look at the cast. It felt a bit tight in places.
I can’t wait to get it off.
Four more weeks.
At the back of his mind Ivan knew that he was counting more than just the days when his cast would be removed. He was counting the days until he would see Brinley again. He was happy that she could fly out to Paris to spend a couple of days with her parents and sister. He hadn’t heard from his brother, Quincy, lately, but he assumed he was fine. Busy with his pregnant Zoe, he supposed.
It was almost eight o’clock at night. It would be in the middle of the night in Vienna. Wrong time to call Brinley. He decided to text Art a “Happy New Year!” message.
Instead of texting back, Art called. “Hey, man. Happy New Year.”
“You sound good, Art.” Ivan sat down on the old recliner. He couldn’t get the footrest to work. “They repaired you well, I gather.”
“I’m home now in my condo. This is the life, Ivan. My employer sent me a housekeeper and a cook.”
“Is that right?” Ivan wondered whether Brinley’s money would run out. All these charitable deeds she was doing. Why? Even before she had been saved, she’d been a very charitable person. Now that she was saved, she was even more generous with her money.
Maybe she needs to stop and let people work for something.
“This is my reward for doing my job, Ivan.”
Oh. That too.
“How’s your wrist?” Art asked.
“Your ribs?”
“Healing nicely. I can breathe now after a couple of weeks. Need time to heal, is all.”
“Don’t overdo the painkillers. You can’t get off it easily. Ask me how I know.”
Ivan laughed.
“When do you get back to work?”
“I don’t know, Art. This cast comes off four weeks from now. After that I have to do some therapy. Not sure what to expect. But I want to get back to work. My entire career depends on my wrist.”
In Ivan’s heart, he feared that Conductor Petrocelli had already decided on his replacement, Warren Yamaguchi, his very capable assistant concertmaster.
“That bad, huh? Well, I can tell you my entire career doesn’t depend on my guts though I should’ve listened to my gut feelings. Shouldn’t have parked that far away from the cathedral.”
The pain in his ribs stopped Ivan from laughing too hard.
“What’s so funny, man?” Art asked.
“Gut? Gut feelings?”
“I don’t know what kind of person would make a joke out of life and death.”
Ivan knew he was kidding. “I’m sorry. You cracked me up. Get it? Cracked?”
“I told you, man. Lay off the painkillers.” Art was beside himself. Then he calmed down. “You and I need to ask the Lord for help, Ivan.”
“He may not answer my prayers.” Ivan recalled all those prayers that God had denied him thus far. Being debt-free, going back on tour, reconciling with his sister.
“God always answers prayers, Ivan, thought it might not be the yes you’re looking for.”
“Good point.” Ivan figured he had to either keep praying or change his prayers to match God’s will for his life.
But what was God’s will for him right now? His entire career was in limbo until the cast was off and the prognosis was in. Until then he had to sit tight and wait.
Or should he figure out a Plan B?
No. He decided he didn’t want Plan B. All he ever wanted was to play the violin and that was it. God would have to give it back to him or else he had nothing left.
Or do I?
“Well, I need to get my beauty sleep. Take care, Ivan. Maybe we’ll see each other around. I’m still on St. Simon’s.”
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