Autumn Spring

by Shelley Thrasher

  She sighed as she covered her stomach and her breasts with the sage-infused lotion, then slowly massaged it in. Hopefully I can keep that promise. She winked at herself in the mirror.

  And thyme is for courage. Linda could definitely hear her mother’s voice now—rich, soothing, strong, and full of love. Immediately the pungent aroma of the thyme in her recently shampooed hair caught her attention.

  She’d heard her mother refer to thyme’s ability to teach courage so many times, but the lesson had never sunk in like it did now.

  She’d also never felt fear like she did when she thought of standing up for herself against Ann. Ann was more beautiful and more articulate than she was, wittier and shrewder, her dad’s favorite child. Ann seemed invincible, and even Linda was almost as devoted to her as she was to her mother.

  But Linda’s mother had loved her best, and with her mother’s help, Linda might have a tiny chance to convince Bree that she could care for her in ways Ann couldn’t. She didn’t want to alienate Ann though.

  Linda rubbed lotion into her arms and hands, then applied her nightly face cream, brushed her teeth, and fell into bed thinking about Bree.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Bree was sitting in the magazine section of the public library browsing through yesterday’s Chicago Tribune when someone tapped her arm. Frowning, she glanced up.

  “Why, Linda.” Relief washed through her. She couldn’t face anyone except Linda right now. In fact, she wished she’d run into her several days ago. “What are you doing here?”

  Linda grinned. “I needed to pick up some milk and bread.”

  “I know”—Bree lowered her newspaper—“that was a silly question. How’s it going? I’ve missed seeing you lately.”

  Linda dropped into the worn leather chair next to her, smiling yet appearing concerned. “I’m fine. What about you? I’ve stopped by the hospital to see your mom every morning, but you’re never there. I thought you might have left town.”

  Bree shook her head and whispered, “Don’t I wish?” She glanced around but didn’t see anyone else. A librarian stood behind the checkout counter on the other side of the room, and an older man browsed the stacks at the back of the library. “Sarah’s a little difficult to deal with right now, and when I haven’t been with her, I’ve tried to get some sleep.”

  Bree described how her mother couldn’t stand to be left alone at night and had insisted she stay with her, and as she talked, she began to feel better. Why hadn’t she called Linda to share this? “Sarah’s supposed to go back to Silverado today, so I’m here unwinding before I pick her up. I’ve always loved the peace and quiet of the library.”

  Linda started to stand up. “Don’t let me bother you any longer then. I—”

  “No. Don’t go.” She caught Linda’s arm and gently pulled her back down. “I’ve wanted to talk to you ever since last week when we went to tea in Tyler. I really enjoyed that. But I haven’t had much free time lately.”

  “I can certainly understand that,” Linda said as she leaned back in the cushioned chair. “What’s on your mind?”

  Bree took a deep breath and sat up a little straighter. “I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll just get right to the point.” How did you gently turn someone’s life upside down? She’d planned to have this conversation in a private place, but not too many people were visiting the public library this time of day.

  Linda nodded, appearing apprehensive. “Okay, I’m listening.”

  “Sarah and I had a talk the morning before she had her stroke, and she told me quite a story.”

  “About me?”

  “Yes, though it’s more about your mother…and your father.”

  Linda shifted in her well-used chair. “What about them?”

  “It seems they didn’t tell the whole truth about when they actually got married.”

  Linda smiled. “So they got carried away and didn’t want to admit they’d been fooling around, eh?” She chuckled fondly. “That’s interesting. It makes them seem more human.”

  “I wish it were that simple.” Bree blew out a long breath. She could do this. Now she understood why her mother had always avoided becoming involved in people’s personal affairs. It wasn’t a picnic.

  Linda looked mystified. “What else could it be?”

  Bree lowered her voice. “Your mother was pregnant by another man.”

  Linda seemed to droop into the chair cushions and sat there, speechless. Bree powered on.

  “A friend of my mother, a fellow named Patrick. Charming and redheaded. According to her, he spent his early childhood on a farm near here but went to France with his mothers when he was about ten.”

  “Mothers?”

  “Your real grandmother was apparently a lesbian,” Bree said.

  Linda shook her head, as if having a hard time digesting that piece of information. “At least that makes me feel a lot better about myself.” Then she frowned. “But France? Who was this man? How did he get here, and why didn’t he want me?”

  Bree told Linda what she knew.

  “Mom tried to tell me about him not long before she died, but I didn’t believe her.” She stared into space. “I even saw a picture of him with a woman I suppose was Mother, for God’s sake, though that was just a few weeks ago.”

  Linda put her head in her hands as if trying to hide the sudden tears that glistened in her eyes. “Why didn’t I question her more about him? Now I’ll never know the rest of her story.”

  Bree leaned forward and placed one hand on Linda’s white, springy curls. They felt so soft as she stroked Linda’s head. Finally Linda looked up, and Bree pulled her hand away.

  “Thanks. I’m sorry for falling apart and for involving you in my family drama.” Linda screwed up her face. “I could kick myself. If I’d just listened, you wouldn’t have had to spring this news on me. It can’t have been pleasant for you, especially since you’re having to deal with your own mother right now.”

  “Don’t worry. She’s doing well. I just hope I was right to tell you all this.”

  Linda slowly straightened up and clasped Bree’s hand. “I’m glad you did. Though it might take me a while to digest it, I prefer to know the truth.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “But we both have things to do, so we better get going. Thanks for being such a good friend.”

  Bree stood and tugged Linda to her feet. “You’re more than welcome. See you soon?”

  “Absolutely.” Linda headed for the front door of the library.

  Bree stared at Linda as she hurried away, looking stiff and awkward. She would give Linda some time to mull over the news about her parents, but after everything settled down, she wanted them to pick up where they’d left off. Being around Linda made her feel at peace with herself in a way she’d never experienced.

  *

  Linda’s head spun during her drive home. The blood of some stranger runs through my veins. I’ve always called the wrong man Dad! Why did Bree’s mom confide in Bree instead of me? Can I trust anyone after being lied to all these years?

  Then it hit her. Ann and I aren’t even half sisters. Did Ann and her brothers know what really happened? Surely not.

  But everyone had always said how much she resembled her mom yet not her dad. As a young man, he’d had blond hair, like Ann, and her mom’s had been dark. A few people had even teased her that her real dad was probably the milkman. Well, they hadn’t been far from the truth. At least now she knew where her hair color came from.

  If only Sarah would tell her the whole story. That should help her understand all the details. But Sarah didn’t need any added stress right now. Linda would have to muddle through this revelation alone, because Bree had her hands full too.

  As Linda pulled into her driveway, her cell phone rang. She hurriedly parked. “Hello.”

  “Hi, Linda. This is Tonda.”

  “What’s up?”

  “I thought you might want to finally come over and let me take you out to eat at Bernard’s,
like I’ve been asking for the past two months.”

  Linda opened the car door and stepped out into the chill mid-November air. “As a matter of fact, I would. When and what time?”

  “How about Friday around seven?”

  “Give me your address and I’ll put it in my GPS. Better yet, why don’t I just meet you at the restaurant?”

  “Sure thing. I’m looking forward to us finally getting together.”

  “Me too.”

  As they said their good-byes, Linda let herself into her house, sank onto her couch, and stared at the blank TV screen. A distraction. That’s just what she needed. She might have more in common with Tonda than she thought. And a night out with no emotional baggage would be a relief.

  She grabbed a throw pillow and squeezed it to her chest. Oh, if only things hadn’t changed so abruptly and she were going out with Bree instead.

  Chapter Twenty

  Friday night, Bree called Linda. She hadn’t seen her at Silverado for the past couple of days, though she thought Linda was still checking on her mother’s leg wound occasionally. An aide was rebandaging it daily now.

  Linda’s phone rang several times before the answering machine clicked on. As Bree left a brief message, she considered calling Linda’s cell. But what if she was out on a date? Bree didn’t have any more claim on Linda’s time than Ann did on hers. And Bree only wanted to say hello.

  Less than five minutes later, the phone rang. Oh, good, she thought as she picked up and blurted out, “You must have been too busy to talk earlier.”

  “Who do you think this is?”

  “Uh, uh, nobody.” She was stammering.

  “Liar. You expected Linda, didn’t you?”

  “Well, yes. I’ve gotten used to spending time with her.”

  Bitterness tinged Ann’s laugh. “You better get out of the habit. Linda has a date tonight, with a criminal-defense attorney in Tyler to go to a posh restaurant.”

  “Really? Is her name Tonda?”

  “How did you know?”

  “I’ve met her a couple of times.”

  “What did you think?”

  “She’s younger, attractive, a sharp dresser, and available.”

  “Ha. Good for Linda. I never thought I’d say this, but if she’s determined to choose this alternative lifestyle, at least she has enough class to associate with desirable women.”

  “Yes. I’m happy for her too. But she didn’t choose her sexual orientation.”

  Ann scoffed. “Whatever. I’ve heard all those tired old arguments. Believe me, when it comes right down to it, it’s a choice.”

  Bree sighed. Why waste energy arguing with Ann? “To each her own. So, what’s on your mind? Where’s your precious Carl?”

  “Down at his hunting camp near Jasper, for the weekend. It’s a tradition for a lot of local guys. Gives them a chance to act like boys again, I suppose.”

  An icy finger seemed to touch Bree’s heart. She shivered and moaned softly.

  “Oh, baby. I forgot. I’m so sorry. Tomorrow morning is when…”

  Bree took a breath so deep she felt as if she’d inhaled all the air in the room. “Yes. Tomorrow morning Brett will have been dead fifty-seven years. I’d love to forget this anniversary, but I can’t.”

  “I’m so sorry. You don’t need to be alone. I’ll be right over.”

  Bree blew out her breath like a gust of wind. “No. You don’t need—”

  The dial tone buzzed in Bree’s ear. Ann was on her way. Damn. Bree hoped she could control her feelings. They were usually all over the place this time of year.

  *

  Linda spotted Tonda sitting in the crowded reception area of Bernard’s, one leg crossed over the other and swinging up and down, as if waiting annoyed her. She wore her black dress jacket, obviously expensive, with the air of someone who never asked what anything cost. Damn. Why had she said yes to this date?

  She’d convinced herself she was looking forward to this. But she’d actually rather be sitting in front of her own fireplace, babysitting Riley, or even better, enjoying a quiet evening with Bree.

  Tonda’s restless sophistication attracted yet frightened Linda. Her eyes seemed to bore right through Linda, as if searching for hidden flaws and secrets. Linda didn’t have any secrets that she was aware of, but she certainly had flaws. Come to think of it, though, she had a huge secret—her real dad was a philanderer who hadn’t wanted anything to do with her.

  “Hi. Sorry I’m a little late.” She stood in front of Tonda. “The traffic seems to get worse every day.”

  Tonda jumped up and gave her a brief one-armed hug. “Glad you could make it.” She stepped back and took in Linda’s new white cashmere sweater, her eyes lingering on Linda’s breasts. “You look almost good enough to eat.” Her laugh was low and sensuous. “Speaking of which, I’m famished.”

  Just then the hostess approached and led them into a dimly lit room to the right, its decor making her think she’d been teleported to Italy. After the woman seated them at a secluded table near the back, Tonda slipped her a bill along with a sly look.

  “I’m glad I finally persuaded you to go out with me.” Tonda’s expression reminded Linda of the one she’d always imagined on Little Red Riding Hood’s wolf.

  Their waiter bustled in and placed a bottle of red wine on their table. Tonda immediately picked it up and fondled it. “I think you’ll like this cab. It’s a very good year and tastes of black cherry and vanilla.” Tonda sipped the sample the waiter poured for her and nodded. After their glasses were filled, Tonda handed her one.

  She accepted it hesitantly. “Thanks. I enjoy wine, but I have a long drive home, so I need to be careful.”

  Tonda gazed over the top of her tulip-shaped glass, her eyes burning. “Don’t worry about that. You can always spend the night with me.”

  Linda inadvertently rocked back in her chair, then took a drink. “Hmm. The black cherry certainly dominates the vanilla, doesn’t it?” she murmured. Would Tonda catch her innuendo?

  “Yes, it certainly does. That’s one reason I ordered it.” Tonda ritually sniffed, swirled, chewed, and finally drank. “Ah. Just what the doctor ordered after a busy week.”

  After a few minutes of small talk, Tonda glanced at her menu, then dropped it. The waiter hurried over, and Tonda said, “We’ll start with the baked brie and the salmon appetizers, followed by a bowl each of your French onion soup and the palm-and-artichoke salad. And for the main course, bring us each your nine-ounce Filet Franscati. We’ll decide on dessert later.” She glanced at Linda. “Oh, is all that okay with you?”

  Stunned, Linda merely nodded. She’d never had a date, female or male, who didn’t consult her before they ordered.

  “And we may need a second bottle of wine later,” Tonda added. “So be on your toes.”

  The waiter bobbed his head and darted away.

  Tonda took a long drink of her wine and lowered her glass, her smile smug. “I’ve learned the hard way to deal firmly with servers. If you don’t, they tend to become lax.”

  Linda murmured something inane. She would limit herself to one glass while she ate and then develop a debilitating migraine.

  *

  Before Bree had time to change from her sweats into something more presentable, the front doorbell rang. Carolyn always came to the back, so Ann must have set a new speed record getting here.

  Bree strode to the rarely used front door. She’d talk to Ann briefly, then make up an excuse to get her to leave. She didn’t want any company, especially today. She usually concentrated on Brett during these few days of the year, replaying all their good times as kids and wondering how her life would have differed if he’d lived. Maybe she’d have had a grand-niece like Riley and—

  Ann pushed her way in as soon as Bree unlocked the door. “What do you mean, hiding in here? You should have called me. It’s not good for you to be by yourself right now.” Ann looked and sounded genuinely concerned.

  “Thanks, but
I’m used to it. It doesn’t feel right to just go about my regular routine.”

  “You should at least visit your mother.” Ann followed Bree back into the den, where she’d been sitting in the near-dark room. “For God’s sake. It’s like a tomb in here. Why don’t you turn on some more lights? And what about some heat? It’s freezing.”

  The overhead light fixture almost blinded Bree when Ann flicked it on. Immediately turning it off, she clicked on a couple of other lamps in the room.

  “Sorry.” Ann seemed to mean it. “I don’t want to intrude on your grief. I just thought that after all these years you’d reconciled yourself to Brett’s death.”

  Bree sat on the old blue velvet couch, where she’d huddled under a blanket, and patted the cushion next to her. “I’ll never do that.”

  Ann opened her mouth to speak, but Bree gently put her hand over it. “Let me talk.”

  “Okay, baby.” Ann simply sat still and waited.

  She took a deep breath. “I’ve learned to live with what happened to him and made a tolerable life for myself.” She gazed down at her lap. “But I’ve never quit wishing I’d died instead of him.”

  Ann placed her hands on one of Bree’s and squeezed.

  When Bree finally looked back up, tears shone in Ann’s eyes. “How can you say that, Bree?”

  Bree curled up under her fleece blanket again. “Because it’s true.”

  Ann snaked a hand under the blanket and clasped her arm. “How can you even think that?”

  Bree didn’t pull away. “My father would have had the son he wanted to follow him as president of the bank.” Ann’s hand didn’t move. “And my mother would have had her favorite child living here. He would have given her not only grandchildren, but probably great-grandchildren by now.”

  “Oh, Bree. You can’t be sure of any of that.”

  Bree took a deep breath. “Maybe not. But I’m sure Mother got left with an oddball not even capable of forming a lasting relationship with a suitable partner.”