Allison lifted both hands in a gesture that could mean either “I give up” or “help”.
“We’d better wait on that part, buddy,” Andy said.
The waitress arrived to take Allison and Jessica’s order. Roxie watched the older woman struggling to focus on the menu. Her face was an older version of Jessica’s with brown eyes instead of blue and more lines, but just as pretty. Flannery wondered if Jessica’s mother was still alive or if Allison was in the same position Andy, caring for a disabled sibling. Roxie had always thought caring for Mark would only include things like doctor visits and classes. She’d never imagined he would want to date anyone. That was probably very naïve of her but Mark had always seemed like a child. He was, but only mentally. The rest of him was older than her husband.
Roxie slid a glance at Andy. He looked as if someone had hit him over the head with a plank. Stunned.
Roxie’s heart squeezed. She’d been so worried about leaving Mamere in a care facility, but now she would gladly choose those responsibilities over this new situation.
Mark was asking to live life as a normal man, to love someone and be married to them. He wanted to live the kind of life that Andy had been free to choose. Mark loved, and loved deeply. He couldn’t balance a checkbook or drive a car, but he loved whole-heartedly.
Her husband looked up at her, and the expression in his eyes was clear. He was thinking of his own choices. Andy also carried the genetic gene that caused Mark’s disability, yet he had found a woman who wasn’t afraid to marry him, who understood they might never have children of their own. Andy had had the freedom to find love. How could he deny Mark the same choice?
Roxie tried to focus on the little conversation Mark and Jessica were having about pancakes but her head was spinning. When she’d woken up that morning, slowly surfacing from sleep, wrapped in Andy’s arms, the sound of rain pattering against the window, she never could have predicted what the day would hold. There was nothing more complicated than the question of love and matters of the heart. She’d thought maybe, years and years from then, she might have to deal with a son or daughter’s decision to step out boldly on the path toward finding true love.
Andy held her gaze and she hoped she didn’t look as scared as she felt. For the first time, she hoped they were up to the challenges they faced. They’d been entrusted with great responsibilities and she’d always felt that together, and with God’s help, they could handle anything that life could throw at them. Together, they’d always know what to do.
Now she wondered if she’d been wrong.
Chapter Ten
“A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you.”
― Elbert Hubbard
Remington followed Flannery up the long staircase to the second floor. He wished he could simply retreat into his apartment and close the door. What was so easy just an hour ago was now awkward and painful. He had never wanted to rewind the clock so badly in his life. He would go all the way back to when she’d told him she was moving back to Natchitoches, and he’d decided to apply for a sabbatical. If he could do it all again, he’d stay in Boston where it was safe. They would call and text, and everything would stay the same. But he couldn’t go back in time. He could only move forward.
Flannery paused at the first apartment. The long hallway stretched the length of the building and although he’d once thought the two apartments were far apart, he now realized it was less than twenty feet from door to door. She didn’t look him in the eye. She was waiting for him to open the door.
He reached out and turned the handle… and it was locked.
“She said it was open,” he said, explaining what she could clearly see.
“Should we go back and get the key?”
“We could.” He looked around, as if it would magically appear. He took his own key from his pocket and tried it in the door just in case it might fit. It didn’t.
“I could have told you that,” she said, laughter in her voice.
“Yeah, probably wouldn’t make people happy if their neighbor could open their apartment.”
“Especially if they didn’t get along,” she said.
“I don’t think that’s ever happened, has it? I mean, everybody who has lived up here…” He thought of Alice and Paul, Roxie and Andy. He looked up at the ceiling, searching his memory. “They’ve all…”
“Gotten along? Oh, Rose and Blue, too.” She didn’t seem to realize what he’d been trying to say. “They lived here before they got married and moved into the new third floor nursery. I haven’t seen it yet. I heard it’s beautiful.”
“Right, they all get along.” He thought of how neither Alice or Paul had mentioned that Flannery was moving in. Bix hadn’t said a word. Maybe Austin had known, too. Rem felt his face go hot as he realized that they probably all had seen what he had refused to see until just that morning. Well, the joke was on them because Flannery wasn’t interested.
Flannery leaned a little closer and said softly, “Do you know what I heard?”
His mouth went dry. “What?” She probably found the matchmaking hilarious. He didn’t think he could fake a laugh sincere enough to fool her.
“Charlie told me that when Paul was living up here next to Alice, she sued him. There they were, having dinner with friends and talking about their favorite books, all while she was fighting him to keep the Screenstop from opening. They were falling in love,” she moved a hand between them at heart level, “face to face, but were in some kind of crazy court battle over the Historic District.”
He didn’t say anything. He understood how someone could fall in love despite the reality of what was happening around them. It was as if his heart hadn’t understood several key points in his relationship with Flannery and had simply decided to make decisions without consulting him.
“I’m still surprised that Alice could ever marry someone so high tech.”
“Yeah, they’re pretty different.” His voice sounded unsteady. Rem could smell her perfume, a light floral that she always wore. He found himself leaning closer. What would she do if he simply reached out for her? The impulse was so strong he felt himself take a step toward her.
Flannery was already turning away. “Well, why don’t we look at yours? You haven’t shown me around yet. I know you just moved in so don’t worry if it’s messy.”
“Mine?”
“They’re mirror images.” She looked back at him. “How do I know so much about this historic building and you don’t? Aren’t you the one writing a history of Cane River?”
“The freed slave community and the plantation homes,” he said, following her.
“But these bricks were made by coleur libre (()) and the ironwork was done by (()).” She grinned up at him. “And my wealth of knowledge has nothing to do with the fact my grandfather has been telling me these things since I could walk.”
Rem tried to smile, but now he was thinking about Bix and how his brows had lowered over his sightless eyes at the idea of Rem hurting Flannery. He’d never realized how many people were affected by their friendship.
“Not that anything I see in here would keep me from taking the apartment, anyway. Unless there aren’t windows or the water is brown or something, I’m taking it.” Her voice was a little too bright. “My landlady already rented out my place. I don’t have any choice.”
She’d stopped at the door and was looking up at him, almost as if she was begging him to understand she didn’t have any other place to go.
Rem felt a flash of guilt. “You’ll love it here.” He unlocked the door and turned the knob. “There, I mean. Not here.”
As the door swung open, she stood still, gaze fixed on his. “And if I wanted to live here? What about that?” she asked softly.
He froze. Images flashed through his mind without his permission. Flannery cuddled up next to him on the couch, Flannery sitting across the breakfast table, Flannery next to him in bed. He forced himself to stop running down that path and
focus on the reality of the situation. No, if she lived in the apartment with him it would be as a friendly roommate and nothing more. But that was an impossible situation. He would never volunteer for that. The idea of being so close to her but never able to tell her how he felt was unbearable.
“Sure. That would be fine.”
Pain flashed in her eyes. “Liar,” she said. She was smiling as she turned to enter his apartment but he could tell how hurt she was.
He followed her inside, cursing himself for not being able to hide anything from her. He shut the door behind them and dropped his briefcase on the entryway table.
She glanced back at him, frowning. “That’s not where you leave it.”
“I’ll put it away later.” It was true. He put his briefcase near his desk so he wasn’t running back and forth to his laptop to input his notes. It almost gave him chills, how well she knew him.
Flannery walked slowly around the living room, reaching out and trailing a finger along the mahogany fireplace mantel, peering at the titles of the books on the shelves. “You brought a lot of books with you.”
“Just habit. I’m only here for the semester.” He didn’t know why he said that. Of course she knew he was only staying a few months. She didn’t know that he’d considered looking for a permanent position in Natchitoches. He hadn’t been sure if he could find anything and it was going to be a surprise. She had her new position, and he’d have his, and it would be just like before. Rem’s gut twisted at the thought. What a stupid idea. How deluded he was. He was moving around the country for her and he hadn’t even considered that it might be more then friendship.
“Can I peek into your kitchen?” Her question had a formality he hadn’t heard before.
“Of course,” he said, trying to laugh off the idea that she needed to ask, but knowing that she understood what he hadn’t said. This was his space, not hers.
She stood in the middle of the small galley kitchen. His mug was washed and placed neatly near the stove. A box of his favorite tea sat beside the mug. Rem winced as he saw the tiny spoon in the sugar bowl.
“How do you like it? Doesn’t look like you’ve been cooking much.”
“Not yet. I tried to make a quiche but it burned. The oven is a little touchy. I think it runs hot.” They sounded like strangers. Or worse, formal acquaintances.
“The bathroom is down this way?” She pointed at the end of the hallway.
“No, the first door.”
She stepped past him and opened the door just a crack. A memory flashed through Rem’s mind of Flannery picking the lock on the bathroom door two years ago when they were staying in Nashville. She’d quietly opened the door while he was showering, stolen his towel, and turned off the light. He’d started yelling and he could hear her laughing hysterically as she ran away. He’d gotten her back by salting her coffee, and then when she’d left her phone laying around, he’d changed her facebook profile to a chicken. She hadn’t noticed for hours.
He wanted that friendship back, not the awkward, stilted version of it that was present now.
She moved down the hallway and he stood undecided for a moment. Then fear that he hadn’t put away his pajamas forced him forward. In the next moment he realized how ridiculous it was to worry that she would see a pile of his clothes on the floor. She’d seen plenty over the years. It was a little late to be worried about making a good impression.
To his relief, there didn’t seem to be anything embarrassing left out. Flannery smiled when she saw the quilt she’d sewn for him two years ago. She stood over it, tracing the stitching with one finger. It was patterned after the Cane River landscape, with a river winding from top to bottom. There was a tree with long branches at the edge of a field. That was where they had met. A skinny brown rectangle represented the river walk and the buildings for the Historic District were in primary colors. Flannery touched the small rectangle with an embroidered sign that read ‘By the Book’. She followed the river south, down past the little white building that read ‘Magnolia Plantation Home’, past Monett’s Ferry, and on toward St. Augustine’s. Her finger hovered there over the little church.
“Charlie and Austin are getting married in three days,” she said.
“They are.” He didn’t know what else to say. Tomorrow was the rehearsal dinner. They were supposed to go together. He couldn’t imagine sitting through a dinner this way. They couldn’t even make small talk.
“She seems so happy.”
“They both do,” he said. He’d known Charlie for years, but Austin had been one of his first friends. They’d spent countless hours fishing on the banks of the river when they were children. They knew each other better than some siblings did, but it was still surprising to Rem to see Austin taking that leap of faith. Rem had asked Austin whether he was nervous. Austin said that he’d never been more sure of anything in his life.
She glanced at his bedside table and said, “You brought them.” The Narnia series sat on the bottom shelf. They looked a little worse for wear.
“I’m not sure why,” he admitted. “I thought maybe I’d read them again this winter.”
She said nothing and he felt a pang of sadness. Any other hour on any other day, she would have taken his comment as an invitation and would have excitedly started planning a re-read.
“There are two bedrooms?” she asked.
He nodded. “The other is bigger and has a better view, but I chose this one because it has a desk.” The other room didn’t have any bookshelves, either. Rem supposed it would have been okay to walk from room to room for his books, but somehow the idea of living in a room without a shelf of books felt wrong.
Flannery walked to the desk and picked up a framed photo beside his laptop. Rem felt his face go warm, although he didn’t know why he was embarrassed. She was the one who’d given it to him. He had other pictures there, of his parents and his sisters, but Flannery had picked up their photo from last summer. He could only see the curve of her cheek. She wasn’t smiling.
They’d gone to a low country boil at St. Augustine’s. Someone had set up a cornhole game and Flannery had beaten him soundly. He’d grabbed her around the waist, thrown her over his shoulder, and pretended to head for the creek. The rest of the group had laughed long and hard at their antics, and Bix had snapped the picture of Rem striding toward the water. Flannery had been laughing too hard to protest and the camera had caught the uncomplicated joy on her face.
She stood very still, staring at the picture in her hands. “We were so happy,” she said.
Were. He didn’t accept that. They had been happy that day, and they’d be happy again. Rem took the photo from her and set it back on the desk. “That was a good party,” he said. If they could just find their footing, all of the awkwardness would fade away. He needed to get his head on straight. Then they could go back to the way things were.
She turned to him and her eyes were filled with tears. “Rem, I have to ask you something.”
Fear shot through him. He tried to arrange his features in something approximating a casual expression. “Sure. Whatever it is, ask away.”
“Did I do something wrong? Did I say something to make you mad? If I did, I’m so sorry.” She reached out and took his hand. “Please, just tell me what I did.”
Her fingers were warm in his. She’d held his hand countless times. Ice skating, jumping from his parents’ dock into the river, during the Our Father in church. This was different. He couldn’t tear his eyes from where she held on to him, and he hated himself for it.
Gently he tried to pull his hand away. “It’s not you―” he started to say.
Her mouth dropped open a little. “Do not say that,” she whispered.
“―it’s me,” he finished.
Her breathing had turned shallow as if she were trying hard not to cry. She looked down at their hands. He’d managed to extricate most of his fingers and she was holding on to his pinky. Pinky swear.
“What did I do?” Her wor
ds were barely audible.
His heart was pounding so hard he could feel the pulse in his temples. Minutes ago he was determined to repress every romantic feeling in order to save their friendship but she was holding his hand and standing so close. Before he could stop himself, he imagined what it would be like to date Flannery. Hope rushed up in him and he could almost see their future unfolding. Maybe, just maybe he’d been wrong to fight it. There had to be some way to explain how he felt. He could try to present it in a way that she wouldn’t feel pressure. Of course, letting the cat out of the bag was a lot easier than putting it back in. He couldn’t be sure that telling her was better than staying silent.
He loved her. That was all he knew.
“Just tell me what’s wrong.” She looked up, bracing for his answer.
“Nothing is wrong.”
She yanked her hand away and fixed him with a look of such anger that he took a step back. “You have lied to me more in the past two hours than…” She waved her hands in the air. “Than I don’t even know when because you don’t lie to me. I don’t know what I did to make you so angry with me that you can’t even stand to be in the same room with me.”
She took a few steps away. “You know, at this point, I don’t even care.”
Remington froze. “Pip, please, I―”
“No, I don’t feel like listening to any more lies. As soon as you figure yourself out, let me know so I can have my friend back.” She took a ragged breath, shaking with anger. “You know, when I got up this morning I was so excited.” She paused to get control, reaching up to wipe a tear, her hand trembling. “I thought you’d love for us to be neighbors. I couldn’t wait to surprise you. But apparently that’s somehow a really terrible thing for you. What do you think I’m going to do? Harass you every minute? Eat all your food? Hog the control? I know you have work to do. I have a job, too, you know.”
Rem felt panic rising at the back of his throat. He was handling this about as well as a dog threads a needle. “Pippi, it’s not―.”
Until Winter Comes Again: (An Inspirational Contemporary Romance) (Cane River Romance Book 6) Page 9
