“This is my life, too.”
He took her hand, wrapped his fingers around hers, and squeezed. In reassurance or in warning?
“Brian, I’ve spent a lot of years being controlled.” She dropped her head and covered her face with her free hand. When she looked up, she added, “Controlled. I thought I was fighting it, rebelling, but I was just bad-tempered. I stayed there and accepted it and became mean and resentful. I think it became a habit. My fault. But no longer.”
****
She pulled discretely to the side of the road before she reached Juli’s home. With the buffer of a couple of houses, she felt relatively anonymous. She needed a few minutes to think it out. To plan her first words.
How did one open such a conversation? Did one simply say, ‘I think you are my sister?’
No, one didn’t.
Maybe, she could say ‘I think we’re related. I believe Uncle Will figured it out. Do you mind if I tell you about it?’
That might be a better conversation starter.
She released the steering wheel and waved her hands. She’d never had sweaty palms before. Never in her life. Her anxiety was usually hosted in her tummy.
The file folder lay on the passenger side seat. It had the letter from Will’s mom and the copy of the newspaper birth notice the detective had found. It also held Juli’s birth certificate.
Juli, may I tell you about my father and his second wife, the woman I believed was my mother until a very short time ago?
She shook inside. With Juli’s house so close, this was her opportunity. She placed her hands over her stomach. Don’t betray me now, she begged. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She felt the muscles ease.
A brown dog trotted across the street, pausing to give her only a brief glance before moving on. Frannie scanned the street and saw no one, but people might be home and looking out their windows right now, and wondering why she was parked here.
This was silly, and potentially very embarrassing.
She put the car into gear and drove forward. She could turn around and go back. It might be best for everyone.
But she wanted family if there was true family to be had. How would Juli feel about it? To have this, whether sister or half-sister, thrust upon her?
Her eyes burned. She touched them with the back of her hand and found the lashes were wet.
Crying?
Maybe she wasn’t ready yet.
Yet, life gave no guarantees. Tomorrow might be too late.
Frannie bowed her head and closed her eyes. She began, “Dear Lord, please hear my prayer,” but the prayer had trouble coming together. She couldn’t find the right words. Maybe because she didn’t want to? Maybe because the response might not be what she wanted to hear?
She gave a great sigh and then blotted her eyes. She thought of the snippets of verses. Will’s fortune cookies. Messages. She’d been getting messages since she’d stepped into Will’s house. She needed to try to listen with an open heart before she moved forward solely on the basis of what she wanted.
As soon as she arrived home, Maia called, saying, “Meet me for lunch tomorrow?”
“Sure. What did you have in mind?”
“Everything all right? You sound funny.”
“I’m good.” She touched the handle of the tea steeper and spun it around on the counter. “Here or in Beaufort?”
“Beaufort, if that works okay for you.”
“I’ll be there.”
****
She wore slacks. Funny thing was, they no longer felt quite natural to her, not in the fabric or cut. When she stood in front of the full-length mirror, her shoes looked wrong. Heavy. She needed some sandals, casual ones, not dressy.
Shorts, too. She pulled up her pants legs and stared at the mirror. She had the pairs of capris she’d purchased, but she needed more casual slacks. Maybe a few new tops, too.
Maia was waiting at the grill a few shops down from the gallery. She waved through the window. Frannie raised her hand in return and went inside.
“You’ve got a great table. A beautiful view.” She pulled out the chair and sat. “There’s a few more folks strolling around out there than the last time I was here.”
“Spring arrives early in Beaufort. In a few weeks, this place will be hopping.”
They placed their orders, and then Maia said, “Will you still be here when spring arrives?”
Frannie sighed. “Hard to say.”
“At least that’s not a ‘no’. What’s weighing you down?” Maia asked.
“I don’t want to think about any of it right now. I’m tired of dealing with my mother, of defending my sanity, of temperamental men. What else?”
Maia leaned forward. “I’m tired of mean people and bullies and…and…”
“And high heels.”
Laughter really did help.
“Now, please explain the sanity part. Who’s questioning your sanity?”
“Laurel. Sometimes me.”
“You are one of the sanest people I know.”
“That’s nice, but you haven’t known me long. Maybe I did inherit something from my mother. My birth mother, I mean.”
“You told me yourself that you don’t know what was actually wrong with her. It isn’t necessarily genetic. Even if it was, there’s no guarantee you’d have it.” Maia stabbed a piece of lettuce with her fork. “As for your other mother, now that’s a different sort of animal altogether.”
“You only know what I’ve told you about her. I’m not objective.”
“Brian, too.”
“Brian? He hardly saw her. He doesn’t know her.”
“I thought he talked to her. He said she was too perfect to be normal. He must have noticed a lot in a brief time.”
There wasn’t much time for conversation between the time Laurel had walked in and she’d asked Brian to leave.
Maia said, “I hope you truly don’t mind if I see Joel. He and I have a lot in common. I enjoy his company, but I don’t want to tread on anyone’s feelings.”
“Not mine, for sure. I’ll be delighted if you and Joel find something good together.” Frannie sipped her tea. “He deserves it and so do you.”
“What else?”
“What else, what?”
“I can still see it in your eyes. Like a shadow. Something else is eating at you.”
Frannie started to speak and then pulled it back. She shook her head. “There is, but I can’t talk about it. It involves someone else. Without her,” she broke off. “Without that person’s consent, I can’t discuss it.”
“I understand. I respect your discretion.”
“But it bugs you, doesn’t it?”
“No. Well, maybe yes. Seriously, anytime you want to chat about anything whatsoever, you let me know and I’ll be there. You can trust me.” Maia looked curious, yet earnest at the same time.
“I know I can.”
The waitress collected the salad plates. “Anything else?”
She said, “No,” but Maia jumped in. “Chocolate pie, please.” She looked at Frannie. “We’ll each have a slice?”
“Sure.”
Over pie, Frannie added, “You wouldn’t believe how tempted I am to ask your opinion about it, but I can’t.”
“I can give you advice anyway. It’s not always necessary to know the actual details of a problem.”
“What does that mean?”
“Get away from people, and even away from the stuff that surrounds you. That’s the only way to shut out the extraneous, distracting inputs. Take yourself outside. Stand on the beach, close your eyes, shut out the past and the present, and listen to what your heart tells you.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
That pain-in-the-butt lattice had worked loose again. Brian knelt, prying a piece of the splintered white wood out from under the screw. He was a handy kind of guy all right, but a real handyman could have done a better job. Now, he was going to have to find lattice that matched the rest and cut it to
fit and paint it. Might be easier to hire a real handyman to help this not-so-handy one get the job done.
How would he explain that to Fran? He was going to have to do that sooner or later. Probably sooner.
Actually, he had hired a very handy friend to do another project for him, but that project was a secret. He grinned. Just wait until it wasn’t a secret. Maybe that would be a good time to clue Fran in about his lack of handiness.
He heard a noise on the porch. She must be home. He stood gingerly, but more easily than he used to. Physical therapy and healing took time and persistence. He’d said the same to Will.
It was virtually soundless to walk on the dry sand, that’s why the guy on the porch didn’t hear him. As soon as Brian was fully upright, he saw scuffed shoes and the skinny twerp who wore them. Through the upright rails, he watched the man press his face to the sliding door and cup his hands around his face, to better see through the glass, no doubt. Brian’s surge of adrenaline cured his limp, at least briefly. He was up the short stairs to the crossover in a heartbeat and standing behind the creep before he knew he wasn’t alone—that he’d been seen tugging on the door handle.
“What’s up?” Brian grinned, but not in a friendly way, letting the man know his day had just taken a downhill turn.
He started forward, like he thought he might get around him, but Brian moved faster, and with his greater size he easily pinned the guy back against the door.
“Don’t move. You understand?”
He nodded.
“What are you doing here?”
“Nothing. Not doing anything. I was checking to see if anyone was home.”
“Yeah, I saw that.”
“It’s not a crime to knock on someone’s door.”
“Not what I saw. Why don’t you tell me what you wanted?”
Brian released the man’s wrists, but stayed close. This guy smelled like he was living rough and he was up to no good, but as long as Brian didn’t see a weapon, there really wasn’t much to call the cops over.
He looked surprised and rubbed his wrists. He also put a smirk on his face.
Brian wedged one hand up against his throat. “I’m in the mood to bust someone’s face. I don’t really care who. You’ll do.”
The smirk vanished. “I wasn’t going to hurt anyone. None of my business, anyway. I was paid to deliver a message.”
“Hand it over.”
“Not that kind of message. The lady who hired me wanted me to do a little something so the woman who lives here would know someone had been around.”
“Intimidation? This isn’t the first time you’ve been here.”
The guy put up his hands. “I swear. First time. And I haven’t done anything.”
“Who hired you?”
No answer, so he shook him and pushed him back against the wall.
“A blond lady. I told you, it’s nothing to me.”
“Her name?”
“I don’t know her name. My buddy told me she paid him, too. I don’t know what he did. Hey, he didn’t hurt anyone either.”
Brian really did want to bust his face. It’d been a long time since he’d been in a real brawl, but this guy was too pathetic and this was Fran’s front porch. He didn’t think she’d be happy about blood spray on the deck boards. Then the thought of Fran and the potential for damage to her happiness made him even angrier.
“Did she say why?”
“No, she said to do a little somethin’ to make her nervous.” He waved his hands. “A practical joke, you know. Nothing big. Nothing like someone would call the cops for. Nothin’ that would hurt anyone.”
Brian held him by a fistful of grimy shirt. He could feel the guy’s heart thudding against his fist. He smelled fear on him. It made him angrier, but in a different direction. He needed to think it out when he wasn’t so pissed.
“I’m gonna give you a piece of advice. For free. When you leave—and yeah, I’m going to let you walk away—do not speak to that woman who hired you. You say nothing to her. Nothing. Got it?”
He nodded.
“Say it.”
“You don’t want her to know that you know. I got it. No problem. Like I said, it wasn’t anything personal. A little joke.”
Now the man’s hands were almost in praying mode. Brian willed his temper to stay in control. He put his face close to the guy’s and said, “You are never coming back here.”
The guy shook his head. “No. Never.”
Brian stepped aside, trying to keep his fists from doing their own thing. The guy didn’t move. “What are you waiting for?”
“Can I go now?”
“Go. Fast.”
Halfway down the stairs, he stumbled and fell. He scrambled back to his feet and was gone. Brian figured he’d earned a few splinters for his trouble.
Brian was still angry and there was no one he could take it out on.
Then he remembered he had Laurel’s phone number.
He pulled out his wallet and searched for the slip of paper. With his temper still hot, still standing on Fran’s porch with the ocean raging in front of him, he punched the keys on his cell phone.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Frannie entered through the side door and, through the sliding door, saw Brian on the porch. His back was toward the house and he appeared to be speaking on his phone. She approached the door quietly, thinking to surprise him, but changed her mind by the time she reached the door because his posture was tense and his movements were abrupt. Whatever the conversation was about, Brian wasn’t happy.
She stood at the glass, caught in indecision. Should she stay or go? Maybe pretend she hadn’t noticed? Then he turned and his voice, loud and abrupt, came through the glass.
“You said to call if I was concerned about Fran. Maybe you thought I could be bought like the weasel I caught on her porch.” After a pause, he continued, “No, don’t even try. All you need to know is this: if anything happens to her, or around her, Laurel, we’ll be having a conversation, possibly with the police.”
He saw her. The moment his eyes caught sight of her there on the other side of the glass in the dim interior, his face went blank. He finished, “Remember what I said.” Slowly, carefully, he put the phone in his pocket.
“Fran?” He reached for the door handle. “Let me in?”
Stunned, she shook her head.
“Fran, please.”
She spoke through the glass. “Were you on the phone with Laurel? I heard you say her name.”
“I can explain. Please.”
She reached across, tugged the drawstring and the blinds closed.
“Fran? You’re there. I know you are and you’re listening.”
True enough. She had paused a few feet away.
“Fine. You want me to shout through the door? I will. I promise I will. All of the neighbors will hear. But if you’re okay with that, then so am I because I’m not going to walk away.”
She faced the door and the closed blinds. Her feet felt stuck. Betrayal tasted like blood. Bitter. She wanted to run. Maybe to shut herself up in the bathroom. Forget the world.
“Fran. I called Laurel. I think I know about the noises you heard and all that crap. It wasn’t you. Well, maybe some of it was you because you have that freaking crazy imagination… No scratch that, I didn’t mean crazy. You have a strong imagination and you get all worked up over stuff. Stuff that doesn’t matter. Sorry. I don’t mean to say the stuff you care about doesn’t matter. That’s not what I meant.”
She was having a hard time staying hurt and angry. There was something especially pathetic, yet incredibly adorable about a man like Brian groveling at her sliding glass door, trying so hard not to put his feet in his mouth that he sounded ridiculous.
“I found a guy on your porch earlier. Minutes before you got home. He was sneaking around. Up to no good. I beat… No, I got him to talk. Laurel paid him. When you came home, you heard me on the phone telling Laurel not to even think of doing anything like t
hat ever again.”
Frannie touched the blinds. She ran her fingers along the edge of the vertical slats.
“I know what you’re going to ask next. How did I have her phone number? Laurel asked me to meet her. I did. Curiosity, I guess. She gave me her phone number. Wanted me to call if anything happened…you know, with you. I walked out on her. I was going to tell you. Not that there was anything to tell, but I was going to tell you, but when I got to your house you’d found Juli’s birth certificate and I forgot. That’s all. I forgot.”
Silence. Did she hear him walking away? Anxiety gripped her. Was he giving up? Frantically, she scrabbled at the lock and slid the door open.
He stood there, his eyes wide as if he didn’t think she’d give in.
She looked at him and asked, “Now what?”
He shrugged. “Whatever you want. Whatever you want to do about Juli, about Laurel, even about Will, I’ll support you in your decision.”
“That’s nice.” She stepped out onto the porch. “But it’s not quite what I meant.”
“No?”
She shook her head, slowly and deliberately. Brian moved forward and caught her up in his arms. He lifted her off her feet. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed.
“Hey, not so tight.”
“Oh.” She pulled back. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”
He laughed, low and warm. “No, just can’t reach your lips. Now I can.” And he did.
****
She dialed the phone with shaking hands. She breathed deeply, willing her nerves to settle, her stomach to behave.
“Hello?”
“Hi. Juli. Sorry to bother you. It’s Frannie.”
“Frannie? Hi, yourself. How are you?”
“I’m fine. I was wondering if I could stop by.”
“Sure. When?”
“Well, whenever it’s convenient? Maybe tomorrow?”
“What about now? I’m home. Danny’s napping.”
Now. She thought of a thousand reasons why not now, and none had any truth in them.
Beach Winds Page 22
