by Jacquie Gee
“Mom, it’s me,” I insist, taking a cautious step toward her, my hands outstretched. “Becca. Mom, please.” I think maybe it’s the lighting, that perhaps if she sees me more clearly… Maybe if I turn on the light, she’ll realize who I am and take back her mistake, so I reach for it, and she swats at me again.
“I’m asking you kindly to go before I have to call the police.” She grits her teeth and pokes the umbrella’s end into my chest. She pokes me hard enough to knock me back.
“Mom, please, for the love of God—it’s Becca!”
“I don’t know any Becca!” she snarls, bewildered eyes studying me hard. Her bottom lip trembles. She’s equal parts frightened and totally confused, I read it in her eyes. But for some reason, I can’t let this go. I need her to know it’s me.
“I’ve come from New York City to stay with you, Mom, for a visit, remember? I arrived earlier today. This morning. We had tea. You insisted on making it—”
Her eyes come alive. “You’re the one who broke the cup.” She points a finger. “You broke in here and destroyed my china.”
Her words strip the breath from me. “I wha—”
“You’re the one. You ruined everything!” She raises shaky hands to her cheeks, concentrating, struggling to dredge up any piece of our earlier conversation, I can tell, any piece of anything familiar, that might make sense. The alarm in her eyes breaks my heart.
“It’s me, Mom, Becca. We sat over there, remember?” Her gaze lands where my finger points. “We talked about Trent and how he fixed the back stairs… and how he built you this apartment. You asked for cupcakes. And I forgot them…” My voice trails off.
She’s hearing me, but she’s not hearing me. Worry staggers all over her face. Her expression crumbles, and her eyes grow dark and wild. “Get out!” she shouts. “Get out of my house!” She bolts toward me.
“Mom?”
“GET OUT!” She hits me hard across the arm with the umbrella.
“Mom, please—” I scuttle back.
“Get out, or I swear—” She swings again.
I scramble back from her, overwhelmed by shock, my feet unable to move fast enough. She cracks me over the shoulder and across the wrist before I can escape. What is this? What’s happening to her? Why doesn’t she know me?
“Go! Get out!” She strikes me again and again, pushing me toward the door. “And don’t come back!” She gives the door a mighty slam before I’m barely through it. I escape its wrath, leaping out onto the landing, as the heavy door crashes into its frame.
“Mom!” I turn and pound the face of it, my fists meeting it hard. “Mom, please, I don’t have any shoes!”
She says nothing, just turns the locks—three in total. I hear each drop and then sound of her slippers drifting up the hallway, away from the door, back to her bedroom.
The light from under the door goes off, leaving me alone in the dark.
“Oh, Mom.” I sigh, my bottom lip trembling. “Omigawd, Mom.” I catch my face in my hands and slide down the back of the door, in sobs.
What’s happened to my beautiful mother?
Chapter 18
I lower my head and ring the bell. I can’t believe I’m doing this—and at this hour. I’ve got just enough time to swipe the tears from my cheeks before she opens the door. The massive carved oaken beauty that graces the front entrance to the Heartbeat Inn creaks slowly back, and a wiry thin face pokes out.
Hands clutch the front of her turtle-necked night-gown, the kind Wendy Darling might wear. Dark blue eyes squint hard at me from below a nest of fuzzy, red shoulder-length curls. Red? Ava Simmons’ gone red—seriously?
I guess not everything’s the same in Heartland Cove. I swallow down the shock of it.
“He-ey!” I try to make my voice sound light and happy, though it’s far from it. Tears still clog my throat. I toss in her a small three-fingered wave, so she knows she’s not in danger, I’m sure she doesn’t get many visitors this late at night. But, the truth is, it’s an emergency. It’s not every day your mother throws you out of your own house.
I gulp back the thought.
Not to mention, it’s darned cold out here, and my teeth are chattering, and I’m worried she won’t recognize me, it’s been such a long time.
“Hold up,” Ava says, then disappears back into the darkness of her house. She returns seconds later wearing a smart set of tortoise-shell rimmed glasses. Very posh. Are those Miu Mius?
Hmm… new hair color, great glasses—things are looking up for Ava Awkward, I mean… Ava Simmons.
Wow, I probably shouldn’t still call her that anymore—even if it’s only inside my head.
“Becca! Becca Lane!” She bursts into a smile. She does remember me. She reaches out, pushing my shoulder back in a playful way. “What’s it been? Like, five years?”
“Eleven, actually,” I enunciate, slowly. “Since graduation, if that’s what you’re counting from. Three and a half, if you’re counting Christmas.” She makes a weird face. “I was here at Christmas. Three years back,” I try explaining, though I don’t know why I’m bothering. I mean, it’s not the most important detail at the moment, is it?
I glance to the side of her door and see a stack of books. That’s how I always remember Ava. Shy, quiet, nose in a book. She read so much, she was known as the class Anne of Green Gables. Harlequins, mostly. Romances that is. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
I did hear she scored some hot guy after high school. Like a really hot guy. Sadly though, I heard it didn’t work out long term. But good for her, in the interim.
“I’m sorry to be here so late, but, I, ahh—” I motion toward my front porch and back.
“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Ava fans my words away before I can finish. Her long, slender hand takes a couple of trips through the air before settling on the arm she’s placed across her chest. “It’s all part of the business.” She giggles, flipping her other upturned palm to the sign hanging above her head.
Heartbeat Inn Bed & Breakfast. A Five-Star Lovers’ Destination.
She smiles proudly. “Now, what can I do for you?” Her eyes settle on my feet. “Oh, my, you’re not wearing any shoes?” She looks up, concerned.
“Oh, yeah, about that. It’s true. I’m not.” I cross my toes, embarrassed.
“What’s happened to them?”
“Aaah, it’s kinda a long story. I don’t wanna bore you with it.”
She blinks like she has the time to listen.
“Anyway,” I clear my throat. “I was thinking maybe I could stay here for the night?” My voice lifts my statement up into a question, sounding very child-like. “That is if you have a room available.” I bring it back down into the adult register. How could she not have a room? This is Heartbeat Cove, after all. Not like people are clamoring to get in. I twist my fingers, awaiting her answer, then find myself biting my bottom lip when she hesitates.
“A room, huh?” She sounds worried. Her spotty lashes flutter.
All the times I ever referred to her as Ava Awkward come back to me in rapid-fire succession. Honestly, I don’t know why I did that, well, never to her face…but still, I did it. Childhood sucks.
“For tonight?” she clarifies.
“Uh-huh.” I blink. Considering I’m standing on your stoop at nearly midnight, freezing my little heinie off, yes.
“I don’t get it.” She shifts her weight and rumples her expression. “Why don’t you just stay at your mom’s?”
“Umm, yeah, about that…” I glance backward at the house over my shoulder and back. “It’s complicated,” I say. “Do you think maybe I could just stay here?” I bite my lip.
“But won’t your Mom be worried?” she pushes.
“Well, you know, it’s late, and I don’t wanna wake her. If I go over there now, we’ll just start chatting, and she has the store to run in the morning.”
“Oh.” Ava’s face brightens. “So you just got in?”
“Yeah. A litt
le while back.”
“So where’s your car?”
“I don’t have one.”
“So how did you get here?”
“On the…bus.” I point haphazardly behind me, remembering, other than tour buses, the bus doesn’t come to Heartland anymore.
“Ri-ight, I see,” Ava nods like she’s one of those bobble-dolls you see in the back of people’s car windows, looking utterly confused. I can tell she knows I’m lying. Badly.
“So, anyway.” I clutch my thin T-shirt up tight around my neck. “Do you have a room, or not?”
Ava’s face falls. She stares pitifully at me. “Yeah, see, that’s the thing.” She frowns. “Any other time, I’d be glad to do it, but I’m all full up tonight.”
“Full up?”
“Right.”
“Really?” I furrow my brows.
“Really,” she says.
Oh, wow, karma sucks, doesn’t it? I never should have thought the ‘awkward’ thought. It was wrong of me. I’d repent right here and now if it’d make a difference, but it’s way too late for that.
This is why you don’t partake in unflattering teenage name calling, people.
No matter how enticing.
“Yeah, I’m afraid I’m down to just three rooms,” Ava goes on explaining. “On accounta the other three are under construction currently. I’m sure you’ve heard I’m doing the place over.” She flips a boastful hand out in front of her.
“No, can’t say that I have.”
“Anyway, I’m turning the bottom half of the house into fancy thematic honeymoon suites. You know, like the kind they let out in Niagara Falls.”
“Thematic?”
“Yeah, you know, like based on a theme? Mine are gonna be literature based, of course.”
“Of course.”
“There’s the Notable Notebook Room, and the Me After Being With You Room, and Mr. Darcy Done Me Room.”
“How clever.”
“Oh, and my absolute fave”—she becomes positively giddy— “the Bridges of Marry Me Now County. Isn’t that cute?”
“Adorable.”
“That one’s gonna be a deluxe suite.”
“Is it?”
“Um-hum.” She dashes off behind the door, surfacing a second later with a hot pink, brochure in her hand. It’s smothered in bold red hearts. “See.” She hands it to me, pointing.
I scan to a list of overnight packages outlined in hot pink hearts.
“It’s my latest brainstorm.” She giggles.
“Two nights’ stay in the room of your choice, hot breakfast, a bottle of wine, and a scenic tour,” I read.
“And with the Bridges of Marry Me Now County Suite, I throw in a bouquet of flowers, on accounta they just got married.” She nods, pointing it out to me.
“Married?” I scowl. “People are coming here for their honeymoons?”
“Oh, yeah.” She waves a hand. “Better than that. They’re comin’ here to get married on our bridge.” She grins so hard she nearly pops. “Or at least they will be, soon.” She looks dreamily off over the river and back. “See here.” She taps the brochure again, drawing my attention back to the deluxe package. “It says, Ceremony included.” She shrugs. “I do all the plannin’ and everythin’.”
“You do…”
“Uh-huh. Brides don’t have to lift a finger.”
“That’s nice.” I smile and pass her back the brochure. “Real nice.” I shiver.
“It is, isn’t though?” She puts the brochure back on the stack, then leans on the door jamb. “I couldn’t have done it without Trent’s help though.”
“Trent?” My voice sounds like a record scratch.
“Yeah, you know.” She leans out, nudging me, and lowering her voice. “Your mama’s boy-toy.” She winks.
There’s that term again!
“He’s been helping me with the renovations. He’s really good with his hands.” She leans back, crossing her arms. “You do know about him, don’t you?” She gulps, looking like she’s swallowed a rat.
“Yeah, we’ve become acquainted.” I muster up a grin, though inside, I wonder how many women in the Cove this man has manipulated.
“He’s worth his weight in gold for the scenery alone.” Ava Simmons giggles then sucks it back. “Not that I’m homing in on your mama’s territory or, anything. That’s just what we call him round here. The man-toy.” She laughs.
“Right,” I grin. “Now about the room, you sure you can’t find a place to squeeze me in?”
“I’m afraid not, sorry.” She shakes her head, then starts calculating her lodgers on her fingertips. “I’ve got Mama staying in room 2, I’m in room one, and Bert Williams just took the suite, on accounta he and Vera are fighting again. But you didn’t hear that from me.”
“Of course, not.”
“Anyway, I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful.” She shifts her weight. “You really oughta just go across the road and sleep at your mom’s.”
“Yeah, thanks, maybe I will.” I back away, shivering.
“Unless, of course… Wait and minute!” She snaps her fingers. “Why didn’t I think of this sooner. You can bunk with me?” Her eyes light like candles. “I’ve got a full double, nearly queen, and I’m just a tiny thing.”
My mind splinters. After the day I’ve had, I don’t think I can sleep back-to-back with Ava Simmons, or anyone for that matter, no matter how badly I want to go to bed. “Thanks, but—”
“Oh, come on.” She reaches for me as I back from the porch. “It’ll be fun. Just like the sleepovers we had when we were kids!”
I seriously don’t think I ever had a sleepover with Ava Simmons, and I’m not about to start now.
“You know what, as much as I love that idea, I just can’t.”
“What do you mean, you can’t?” Ava's face falls.
“I mean, I shouldn’t, ’cause, you know, you’re right, I’m just being silly.” I glance over my shoulder and back, pointing. “I just need to go over there and wake my mama up.”
“You sure?” Ava scowl. “Cause I honestly don’t mind.”
“And that’s so very sweet of you, but…no thanks.” Ava draws back as I sidestep away. “Not that I wouldn’t wanna stay, of course, it’s just… you know, Mama and all.” I point again.
“Of, course.” Ava flips a dismissive hand. “Okay, well, if you change your mind, I’m open all night!” She sings.
“Will do,” I sing back as she closes the door, her smile disappearing behind the sliver of door. She sinks the lock, and I feel the finality of the clunk bounce in my shoulders.
That’s twice tonight I’ve been rendered homeless.
I stand in the street, looking around at the sleepy town of Heartland Cove, not a light in the window, except for one.
Figures he’d be up.
Through the dark night, in the window, on the bottom half of the Victorian, I spy the silhouette of a ball cap-wearing Trent stirring about in his kitchen.
I guess I can always sleep outside.
The garbage can beside me flips over, revealing a plump raccoon.
Clearly, camping out on the front lawn is out of the question. I move away, and it chases after me, hissing.
I fly across the bridge.
Looks like you’re going to eat a little crow before you go to sleep tonight, I say to myself scaling the porch steps two at a time.
Chapter 19
“Hiya,” I drawl, as the front door of Green Grub squeaks slowly open. A sleepy-eyed Trent peers through the crack in the door. He looks annoyed—scowling, actually. “I may have overdone the knocking just a bit. Sorry,” I add.
He mumbles something inaudible then steps to the side. Immediately I notice what he’s wearing—or rather not wearing. Those are some thin flannel boxers. My eyes fall directly to it—I mean them. Not that it isn’t impossible to notice. I shift my gaze quickly up from the prize to the body. My, what a body. I mean seriously, look at him, rippling and muscling and brawnin
g all over the threshold.
“Let me guess: She threw you out.” His voice snaps me back to reality.
“How did you know?” I look up, perplexed.
“No shoes.”
“Oh, yeah.” I glance down at my bare feet.
“She won’t let you back in now?”
“Mm-Hum. Hit me with the umbrella, too.”
“Really?” He leans against the jamb. “That’s a new one.” He skews his mouth to one side. When he does this, his nose wrinkles and the intense green gaze of his eyes sparkles.
Okay, Becca, you’ve noticed every cutesy thing about him now; you can stop. Stop, Becca, stop.
“So, I suppose you need a place to stay?”
“Yeah,” I bite my lip. “Sorta lookin’ that way.”
“Classic.” He scratches his head, jostling the ball cap, then turns his back and walks away.
I’m not sure I should follow, but the view from here is pretty spectacular, so I hesitate.
“Come on,” he growls, motioning for me to follow him, in that adorable Aussie accent of his.
Did I just say adorable?
I skip across the threshold and shut the door behind me. It squeaks, which seems preposterous, considering Trent's managed to fix everything else around town. “This way.” He jerks a thumb toward the middle hallway, then pads over the hardwood floors. “House only has two bedrooms now. Pamela’s in one, so you’ll have to bunk with me.” My step falters. “Unless that’s a problem.” He looks back.
“No.” My voice cracks. “Of course not.” My heart beats double time. I’m not seriously gonna end up sleeping with this man, am I? I swallow. Though that’s not altogether the most horrible idea.
My thoughts travel back to how long it’s been since I shaved, and where, and how comprehensively.
“You’re not still mad at me, are you?” I ask when at last we reach the end of the hall.
“What does that matter?” He reaches for a door.
