by Meg Collett
“That’s good!”
“I think you would like her too,” Stevie said, the tone of her voice changing.
Kyra’s smile slipped. “Well, as long as you like her, that’s what matters.”
“I mean,” she said, fiddling with the hem of her shirt now, “maybe you could talk to her too.”
“I do need to find a therapist around here…”
Stevie looked up. “I talk about you some in our sessions. She knows about you.” She shrugged. “Like I said, she’s good and I like her. Maybe you would like her if you talked to her.”
“It’s worth a shot, I guess.”
“It was just a suggestion,” she said quickly, but any embarrassment she felt fell away as she narrowed her eyes on Kyra. “Tell me about the sex.”
Kyra groaned and ran her hands over her face. “It was okay, I guess,” she said, the sound muffled.
“Ah, I see.” Stevie nodded in understanding. “He couldn’t get it up.”
“What?” Kyra jerked, mortified. She looked around the deck. Thankfully, they were alone. “No. He could. I mean…it was just good. It was fine. Stop asking questions!”
“How big is he?”
“That’s a question!”
Stevie sighed. “Do you know how bored I am? All I do is talk about my feelings and how much I want to drink and how much everyone feels all the time. It’s annoying as shit. So tell me, please, before I waste away in here and go crazy, how big is he?”
“You,” Kyra said, rolling her eyes, “are so dramatic.”
“Have you met my parents? You should be glad I landed on dramatic and not batshit bananas.”
“True,” Kyra said, pretending to think about it too long. Stevie swatted at her arm until she laughed. “Fine. He’s big.”
Stevie tapped her chin in thought. “Like hoagie sandwich big or like hotdog bun big?”
“Um…I don’t understand the difference. Can we talk about something else?”
“How are you feeling after sleeping with him?”
“Exactly how much time have you spent in therapy?” Kyra asked with a nervous laugh.
“I’m serious,” she said, meaning it. “Are you okay?”
“I think so. Should I not be? I mean, I feel like he should talk to me or look at me more or something. I feel like he’s just being normal or something when this isn’t just normal anymore. Like we had sex and everything is different now, but he’s just so calm about it.”
“So you want more attention from him?”
Kyra straightened off the chair. “You’re freaking me out. You have to stop.”
“I’m just saying.” Stevie held up her hands in surrender. “Have you watched the weather lately?”
“Oh, you mean the storm?” Kyra floundered at the unexpected subject change.
Nodding, Stevie said, “Could you ask Hale to put up my storm shutters? They’re in the garage. I’ll pay him when I get back.”
“Sure thing. But do you think it’ll actually hit us?” Kyra chewed on her lip nervously. Storms terrified her.
“Maybe.” Stevie shrugged.
They talked for a while after that, but Kyra couldn’t stay long. Guests were only allowed for a couple hours. Stevie showed her out, walking her back to the front door. When they got there, a willowy woman was saying goodbye to some other guests. She looked up when they approached.
“Hey, Stevie,” she said, her voice bright and crisp as the breeze around them. She smiled sweetly. “And you must be Kyra. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Dr. Clemens.”
She reached out and shook Kyra’s hand. “Nice to meet you,” she said politely.
“Kyra, this is the therapist I was telling you about,” Stevie said, sounding sheepish. “Anyway, thanks for coming to see me. I have to go so they can put me back in my straightjacket and padded room.”
Dr. Clemens laughed. “Very funny.”
Stevie pulled Kyra into a fierce hug, which surprised her. She was even more shocked when Stevie kissed her cheek. “Talk to her,” she whispered. And then she left, leaving Kyra alone with the therapist and feeling effectively maneuvered when she turned back to the doctor.
“So, uh, Stevie said she enjoys your sessions with her.”
Dr. Clemens’s smile broadened. “Stevie is a good person. She has a smart head on her shoulders.”
“Oh, she’s smart all right,” Kyra said, grinning.
“Well, I don’t want to keep you too long. Here’s my card in case you would like to contact me about anything. I do more than just addiction counseling.”
Kyra took the card the doctor offered her. She wondered how much Stevie had told Dr. Clemens about her. “Um, thanks,” she said, swallowing to alleviate the dryness in her mouth. “I’ll be in touch soon. I, uh, recently moved, so I haven’t had time to talk with anyone lately.”
“Understandable,” Dr. Clemens said, still smiling. Her face was warm and inviting. The perfume she wore reminded Kyra of fresh linens flapping in a summer breeze. “But you don’t want to wait too long.”
“Right. Well, I better get going.” Kyra stepped outside and pulled on her sunglasses. Therapists had always made her nervous.
“Kyra?”
She turned and looked back at the doctor, who stood framed in the doorway. “Yeah?”
“Thanks for getting Stevie help. I don’t think she would’ve come if it weren’t for you.”
“She’s a smart woman, like you said. I’m sure she would’ve figured it out,” Kyra said, shrugging. From the entrance, she could hear people calling and splashing in the lake. The front drive was empty except for her Jeep.
“That might be true, but sometimes we need to take the advice of others because we can get in our own way.” Before Kyra could comment on the double meaning, Dr. Clemens waved. “Have a safe drive.”
“Thanks,” she mumbled. She hurried down the stairs to her car. She didn’t breathe again until she was inside and the music was loud enough to drown out any sounds from outside the car. As she pulled away, she looked in the rearview mirror. Dr. Clemens was gone, and The Lodge stood gleaming in the sun as she drove on.
twenty-six
Like this?”
Kyra rocked back on her heels and wiped the sweat off her brow with the back of her gloved hand. A bug buzzed beside her ear, and the air was heavy with the pollen-laden fragrance of blooming flowers. Annabelle sat on the garden bench wearing a big straw hat while she supervised Kyra.
“Make the water basin a little deeper. It’ll help hold in the water to keep the roots moist,” Annabelle advised. Kyra pressed on the dirt more, forming a deeper bowl around the newly transplanted flower bush.
“I’m happy you stopped by today,” Annabelle said, sitting back and sipping her water.
Kyra flushed. “I still feel bad for just barging in on you. I probably should have called first.”
“Oh, bah. You never have to call ahead to visit me.” Annabelle flapped her hand at Kyra. “Now the compost. Just sprinkle it evenly over the top and add some mulch.”
Kyra pulled over the bag of compost. The dirt was fine and loamy, slipping through her fingers like sand. She breathed in the rich, healthy smell of it. Just then, Kyra remembered the storm Stevie had mentioned earlier. “What about the storm?” she asked. “Will this plant survive if it gets bad?”
“It will if it’s strong, and you’ve given it a good start,” Annabelle said with a smile. “We all have to weather storms in our lives.”
“That’s for sure.” Kyra poured out some compost as she thought about Stevie.
“Hale mentioned you were visiting your friend today. Do you miss her?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Kyra said, focusing on the compost. “I visited, but I think I miss her more than she misses me.” She laughed. “Stevie would get along fine no matter where she was.”
“She sounds like she’s a strong girl then.”
“She’s overcome a lot,” Kyra agreed. She set the compost bag aside and scooped o
ut some mulch from the wheelbarrow beside her. The breeze cooled the sweaty tendrils of loose hair at her neck. “I’ll be glad when she’s back home though.”
Annabelle nodded thoughtfully. “It does a soul good to be where it belongs. Do you feel like you belong on Canaan?” Annabelle suddenly laughed, the sound bright and crisp in the humid air. “See? I ask too many questions.”
Kyra smiled up at the woman. “I don’t mind at all.” Peeling the gardening gloves off her hands, she straightened off the ground and set in the vintage metal chair across from Annabelle. “And to answer your question, I do think I belong. Or at least I hope I do, but my grandmother seems to have other ideas.”
“Ah, Florence.” Annabelle’s eyes clouded over as if she was lost in thoughts. “I remember when your mother was little. I used to see her and Florence in town. Your grandmother was so happy then, so free. A lot like you, maybe.” Kyra cringed at the words, which made Annabelle smile kindly. “She didn’t always used to be this way, you know. But now…well, now I think she hides a world of hurt behind her icy demeanor. She doesn’t want anyone to see the cracks running through her.”
Faker, Kyra thought. Florence was a faker too. She hated it, but she could understand that part of Florence that Annabelle spoke kindly of. Kyra hid behind smiles and laughter, while her grandmother used cruelty and condescension to keep people at a distance.
“Maybe you’re right,” Kyra said, murmuring the words as she picked out the stray dirt from under her fingernails.
“Well! On to lighter subjects,” Annabelle piped up. Just then, Nancy brought out a tray of sweet tea and fruit. The ice in the glasses clinked together. “Thank you, Nancy. Would you like to stay out here and visit with Kyra for a bit?”
Nancy smiled, taking Annabelle’s wrist to make sure she wasn’t getting too hot. “Maybe next time. I have pies in the oven.”
Annabelle rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “All she does is cook pies. She’s trying to make me fat.”
“We’ll get those curvy hips back so we can catch you a man,” Nancy said.
“Humph.” Annabelle fussed with the brim of her hat, her cheeks flushing slightly.
Nancy winked at Kyra before she went inside. “How long were you and Mr. Cooper together?” Kyra asked, smiling.
“Oh, goodness. All our lives. We fell in love in high school. Lord, he was the dorkiest thing. You wouldn’t ever look twice at him. But something about him spoke to me, and I knew he was the one.” Annabelle’s smile was faraway, her memories of her husband clearly touching her heart. “He was a good man. I miss him every day,” she added.
“You both did wonderful jobs raising Hale and Cade. They are wonderful,” Kyra said, making Annabelle smile even wider.
“They will always be my boys to me.” She leaned forward, cupping her chin in her hand. Her eyes were sharp and clear now as they focused on Kyra. “I saw how Hale watched you the other day. He’s never brought a girl to see me before.”
Kyra choked on her sweet tea. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Oh, well,” Kyra said, trying to recover. “We’re not really that serious or anything. Or, I mean,” she fumbled, thinking Annabelle would assume she’d meant they were just sleeping together, “we haven’t known each other very long.”
“I get it.” Annabelle shook her head with a sigh. “Hale can be a crotchety bastard, just like his father.”
Kyra didn’t just choke on her tea this time. She spewed it. Thankfully, Annabelle was out of the line of fire. She looked up to see Annabelle’s mischievous glint in her eyes, and Kyra burst out laughing. “He really can be!” she managed.
She thought about the night before and how pissed Hale had been about the mosquitoes and sex. She blushed as Annabelle said, “He doesn’t mean anything by it, though. It’s just who he is. Like I said, he took after his father.”
“He can be so funny and lighthearted sometimes. And then he gets all grumpy.” Kyra wiped under her eyes and took another drink, the condensation making her hand slick.
“Never said he was consistent.”
Kyra reached for some fruit to munch on. She felt so at home with this woman, like she’d known Annabelle her whole life. “I like that about him. He’s always honest about how he feels.”
A shadow flittered over Annabelle’s face, and Kyra instantly worried if she’d said something wrong. “Hale may have taken after his father, but Cade took after me. You probably know Cade was bullied when he was younger?” Annabelle asked, and Kyra nodded in answer. “It bothered him a lot, but he never told anyone. One day, Hale caught him holding his breath in the bathtub. He’d been under so long that he was turning blue. Hale pulled him out, but it scared him, scared us all. None of us really understood the depth of Cade’s pain. Since then, Hale’s been the protector, the one who always makes sure we’re okay. He insists on being honest.”
Kyra could only nod in agreement. She thought about that evening when Hale had raced to the water, thinking she was going to drown herself. He’d been wild with anger and probably fear, she realized now. It was why he always pushed her so hard to be real and open. He needed that from those around him because he was terrified of losing them.
She and Annabelle visited for a while longer until Kyra noticed the woman growing tired. Almost as if on cue, Nancy appeared with Annabelle’s afternoon medicine and an update on the building storm. It was then that Kyra noticed Hale had already been to his mother’s house earlier in the day to put up her storm shutters. With a smile, she hugged each of them goodbye and walked through the gardens to her Jeep.
It was late in the afternoon, and the car was stuffy when she got in. Checking her phone, she noticed a text from Stevie.
Stevie: Cade is coming to see me tmr. So you can’t since only one visitor is allowed. #conjugalvisit. Looks like the storm is getting closer!
Kyra: Gross, Stevie. Have fun. We will get your storm shutters up.
She also had a text from Hale.
Hale: I’m waiting.
Two simple words made her heart hammer.
When she pulled in the drive, she noticed all the house lights were on. It was the first time she’d ever had the sensation of coming home to someone. Her smile was wide as she walked to the front door.
Inside, Hale had his radio turned up so loud that Kyra heard it from the entry. She threaded her way through the work supplies and walked to the back of the house. There, she found Hale bent over a sawhorse, cutting precise lines through old pieces of wood they’d taken off the house. He never let anyone throw anything away that had come from the house, especially if it was wood or something that could be repurposed. He said if it had been with the house this long, he was going to ensure it stayed with it for the next hundred years.
“What are you making?” Kyra asked. She settled her hand against his back, pressing her palm into the swells of his muscles. Without a word, he turned and kissed her until she’d forgotten what she asked.
“A new buffet. The original one is long gone, so I’m going to replicate it from the old pictures we have.”
“Pictures?”
“The ones upstairs in the extra bedroom,” Hale said, frowning.
“Oh, right.” Kyra’s throat constricted. It hadn’t occurred to her that he would return to the bedroom to look at her mother’s pictures. “I’ve been looking through them too.”
“Is it okay that I looked at them?”
“Yeah. Of course.” Kyra shrugged, smiling, which made Hale narrow his eyes. “I just mean,” she went on, “that I didn’t realize anyone else had seen them. My aunt and uncle had a few pictures of Mom, but nothing like what I’ve found here.”
His expression relaxed. “I understand. I won’t look at them anymore.”
“What? No. I didn’t mean that. You can look at them too,” she said, her voice too high-pitched.
“How about if you find some pictures of the house or any old furniture, you can show it to me if you want?”
&nbs
p; A little spot in Kyra’s chest eased at Hale’s patient words. She hadn’t realized she would be so protective of the pictures. Hugging him, she murmured against his neck, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now let’s go order takeout. I’m not eating that tofu shit again.”
Kyra called for some Thai takeout while he listened to the radio. “It’ll be here in thirty minutes. What’s going on?” she asked when she hung up the phone.
“That storm is building up pretty good, and its aiming straight for us. We could get hit by the end of the week,” Hale answered, switching the radio to a channel playing rock music.
“How bad is it?” Kyra had never been through a hurricane before. The worst she’d experienced in California were earthquakes and sunburn.
“They’re saying it could be a category-3 when it hits land, which could get pretty intense.”
“Stevie asked if we could put up her storm shutters,” Kyra said, remembering her friend’s request.
“Already done. We have to delay painting the outside of your house until after the storm passes. I don’t want anything to nick the paint.”
She didn’t know what to say. He seemed to think of everything to take care of those around him. “Thank you,” she said, crossing over to him and kissing him lightly.
“You’re welcome.” His eyes brightened. “A storm means some nice swells though. Good surfing for the next few days.”
Kyra’s worry about the hurricane slipped away. “That sounds awesome. Let’s go out there now before the food comes!” She was already moving toward the back door when his voice stopped her.
“We can play in it tomorrow,” he said. “I have plans for tonight.”
She cocked a brow. “Like what?”
“Like ones that don’t involve me puking everywhere.” His expression was mischievous, and she could practically read his dirty thoughts.
“That night had a pretty happy ending.”
He snorted. “For you it did.”
