by Mary Manners
But the age seemed right, which improved the chances he knew this particular Gunnar.
Could it be his brother?
“If something’s bothering you that much, it can’t be too crazy,” Lila prompted.
“You have no idea.” He shook his head. “Forget I said anything. Let’s focus on the Victorian.”
“OK, but you’d better dig into the pizza before it gets cold.” Lila lifted a cheese-laden slice from the pan and set it on her plate. The aroma of spicy sausage filled the air. “I gave up eating cold pizza when I graduated from college.”
“I prefer not to limit myself.” Morgan struggled to steady the tremor in his voice. He took a slice of the pizza and added it to the garlic knot on his plate, though his appetite had soured. How was it that after so many years, thoughts of his brother could still turn him inside out? Gunnar had abandoned Morgan when he bottomed to his absolute weakest and had needed his older brother most. End of story. Even if they managed to find each other again, the relationship was damaged beyond repair. What was the point in dwelling on a past that couldn’t be changed and a future that would never be?
“Have you thought about visiting a church here in Clover Cove…one you’d like to attend while you’re living here?” Lila asked.
“I don’t have time for church.”
“Oh…I don’t expect you to work at the Victorian on Sundays, Morgan.” Lila nibbled daintily at her pizza while he folded his over and gobbled a bite. It went down like a fistful of nails. “Sure, I’m eager to get things done and open shop, but that can be accomplished without sacrificing worship time.”
“It’s not a sacrifice. I came here to work.”
“Well, if you reconsider attending a worship service, I go to Clover Cove Community Church. You’re welcome to join me this Sunday.”
“I’ll…consider it.”
“OK, then.” Lila glanced over his shoulder and through the window. “Oh, look. Here comes Hattie Cutler now. And Maddie’s with her.” She leaned toward the glass and waved. “Gunnar, too. I suppose they’re coming in for a bite to eat since the nursery just closed for the evening. I’ll introduce you to each of them. I’m sure Gunnar and the Cutler men will be happy to show you around town and help you out with anything you might need. And you can ask Gunnar anything you’d like about your…crazy situation.”
Morgan’s throat dried to Sahara Desert proportions as he lifted his gaze to peer through the window toward the boulevard. He choked on a mouthful of pizza as his face heated to a blaze that coursed down his neck to scald his chest. Suddenly, a swarm of bees filled his head with a deafening drone.
Everything moved in slow-motion, as if the scene had been freeze-framed. Loping toward him, like a sluggish mirage straight out of the desert heat, Gunnar turned slightly. The street light haloed him. Dark hair—a mirror of Morgan’s—framed eyes the color of blue smoke.
Gunnar looked up and his gaze tagged Morgan. He froze, eyes huge, as if a semi bore down in his path. Then his jaw slackened and he stumbled. One hand splayed across his chest as if to hold his heart in place.
Morgan locked his gaze. His thoughts caught in a riptide of emotion.
It’s Gunnar…it’s really him.
Like the flip of a switch, time raced into fast-forward mode. Gunnar launched himself across the boulevard and crashed through the door of the pizzeria. The over-the-door bell jangled in a cacophony of sound.
In a trio of strides Gunnar stood at Morgan’s side. He palmed the tabletop as he leaned in, breathless.
“Morgan…” Gunnar’s eyes were huge and round as hubcaps. “Is it really you?”
“This can’t be happening.” Morgan’s words stuck to his throat like they’d been set in concrete. “It’s impossible.”
“I know.” Gunnar’s chest heaved. “How did you get here? When? And how did you know to come here, to Clover Cove?”
“I didn’t know you were here, Gunnar. If I had…” Morgan merely gazed at him as the blaze of heat coursed to chills. Suddenly he was trembling uncontrollably, his teeth chattering as if he’d just taken a polar plunge from the high dive. “I wouldn’t have come.”
“Oh, Morg…you’re in shock. Here, take this.” Gunnar shrugged from his jacket and tossed it over Morgan’s shoulders. “I can’t believe you’re really here. I’ve waited…I’ve been looking for you for so long.” He lifted a hand to Morgan’s face as if inspecting a priceless painting. “I didn’t think I’d ever find you.”
“Don’t.” Morgan dodged the touch. “I don’t need your jacket. I’ll be fine as soon as I get out of here.”
“What?” Gunnar’s hand recoiled as the fabric fell to the floor. It pooled at his feet. “But we have so much to talk about. Let me—”
“I said back off, Gunnar. You heard me.” Morgan slid from the booth to face his brother. They stood eye-to-eye in what proved a sharp contrast to the last time they’d stood together, when Morgan was barely eleven and a full head shorter than Gunnar. “It’s too late for a family reunion. I’m not a frightened eleven-year-old kid anymore. When I needed you, you weren’t there. And now I don’t need you, and I don’t want anything to do with you.”
“You can’t mean that.” Gunnar’s expression showcased utter disbelief. His eyes narrowed to slits and his jaw tightened into a ball of sinewy muscle. “You can’t, Morgan. I don’t understand what’s going on here.”
“I do mean every word. You’d be wise to leave me alone, Gunnar, just like you did that night when I needed you.” The words erupted as memories rushed back—the assault of flashing cruiser lights and blood-spattered snowdrifts. The vinyl backseat of a police car cast a sharp chill against Morgan’s skin. Even now, he remembered the wildfire of flames that burned his throat from hollering for help, terrified to be separated from his older brother. The country road loomed ink-dark and petrifying as the cruiser carried him away into the black of night, into a terrifying unknown. “You let the police take me away from everything that was familiar—mom, our home, my friends at school. I didn’t have anything, not even a coat on my back. And it was so cold that night…impossibly cold.”
“I didn’t mean for any of that to happen. I tried to stop you. I called you back to safety but you ran—”
“Because you were bleeding so badly that I thought you were going to die. I was trying to get help. I wanted help. And after all these years without so much as a word from you, I figured dying was exactly what had happened to you—to both you and Mom.”
“I’m right here, Morgan.” Gunnar placed a hand on Morgan’s shoulder. “I’ve been right here all along.”
“I get that.” Morgan shrugged away from his touch. “But I’ve done my grieving and seeing you here now, it’s blaringly obvious that you took off and never looked back. You’ve gone on with your life—made a new life—and I’m not part of it.”
“That’s not true.”
“Then explain why you didn’t come after me that night or in the days and weeks—the years—that followed. I couldn’t. I was just a kid. But you turned eighteen. You had the means when I didn’t. It was so long…so much time alone, not knowing. You slayed me, Gunnar.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Not as sorry as I am. So why don’t you do what you do best—what you did that night when you left our house—and just walk away. Because that’s what I’m going to do now. Walk away.”
Morgan tossed his napkin on the table and, without another word, turned his back on Gunnar and the others. He strode to the exit and shoved through the door. It slammed behind him with a satisfying whap.
The breeze slapped at his heated skin. His chest flamed and every muscle fiber screamed with agony that seemed to center along his heart. He couldn’t think…couldn’t breathe.
He started walking, then broke into a sprint. He made it a good quarter-mile down the road before the tears came. Tears that stung and scalded; they had been waiting more than a decade to fall.
Help me, Lord.
; The entreaty startled Morgan as words cried from the depths of his soul. He hadn’t prayed from the heart, hadn’t recited more than a simple blessing over a meal in years. Not since he and Mrs. Haynes had buried Mr. Haynes following a massive stroke, and Child Services had once again come to take him away from all that had become familiar and comforting.
Morgan glanced back over his shoulder. The lights of the pizzeria cast a glow over the boulevard as music drifted. Just outside the entrance he caught sight of Lila watching him. He imagined her face was a mask of pain; her dark eyes wilted with confusion and hurt. He’d left her there…left her alone to wonder over his unexpected outburst. The thought punctured his soul.
He couldn’t work through the chaos now. His mind whirled with a cacophony of disjointed emotions. Through the confusion, one thought resonated.
Gunnar’s alive. Gunnar’s here, in Clover Cove. What now?
4
The next morning, Lila took an early drive out to the Victorian. A cloud-veiled sunrise gave way to clear blue skies while a southerly wind hinted at a wakening spring. Along the boulevard, cherry blossoms danced in the sun-kissed breeze, and yellow-headed dandelions and violet phlox winked merrily at the sky. The scent of fresh-mown lawn added a clean, crisp feel to the air.
Lila pulled onto the Victorian’s gravel lot and exited the car. She followed the sound of hammering and found Morgan at work near the far side of the house. The sight of him fueled by frustration dented her heart. His shoulders tensed as he swung a sledgehammer, splintering drywall into fragments.
The events of last night had unfolded in a blur of raw emotion. She knew Morgan must feel confused, his heart shattered. He’d talked of being left alone and filled with terror. She couldn’t begin to imagine what he’d gone through as a defenseless child.
To make matters worse, she could do absolutely nothing to ease his pain. He’d have to work things out with Gunnar. There was no way around it. And she sensed the task was easier said than done, on both sides.
She sighed as she paused in the doorway to gather her thoughts. Her eyes slipped closed for a moment as a silent prayer formed in her heart.
Lord, give me the words to help Morgan through this mess.
The prayer lifted and Lila stepped into the great room. Sawdust littered the floor, its sweet scent a stark contrast to the stale dust that filled the eaves. Shards of plaster lay like scattered puzzle pieces that couldn’t find a mate while shriveled joint tape curled along the floor. The chaos formed a vision of modern art gone awry.
In contrast, the wildflowers Morgan had brought yesterday grinned merrily from atop an antique desk that had been left with the property. Morgan had covered the intriguing piece of furniture in a thin plastic tarp for protection against construction debris. The flowers reminded Lila of Morgan’s kindness and she knew she had to help him get through whatever hurt he was battling.
She crossed the room. Her shadow flowed along what remained of the fractured wall as morning sunlight spilled through the windows. Though Morgan’s back was to her as he worked, his slight hesitation revealed the very moment he realized she stood there beside him.
“Good morning, Morgan.”
“It’s practically afternoon.” He adjusted a pair of safety goggles across the bridge of his nose. They failed to hide the dusky smudges—evidence of a sleepless night—that framed his eyes. “I expected you sooner.”
“It’s barely nine o’clock. I had to stop by the bank on my way in.” Lila stepped around to his front. His shirt was peppered with plaster, his hands a terrain of calluses dusted white. “But now that I’m here, can we talk?”
“I’m sort of busy right now.” He motioned to the wall—or what remained of the wall. Little more than a two-by-four frame shrouded in dust.
“The work can wait.”
“That’s not what you said yesterday.”
“Well, things were different yesterday.” She touched his forearm and felt him tense. “I’d really like to talk this out, Morgan.”
“I know you would.” He gripped the sledgehammer as if it was a lifeline. “But I’m not sure you’ll like what I have to say.”
Lila’s blood ran cold as her heart began to race. A thin sheen of perspiration broke out along the small of her back, dampening the hem of her blouse.
“Are you going to quit?”
“I didn’t say that.” Yet, he stepped away from her.
“You don’t have to. Your eyes say it all.” She paced a short trail before turning back to him. “Well, I’ll make the best of it, whatever it is.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Lila.” He shrugged. “Look, I’m sorry about last night. I made a mess of things and I’m not real happy about that. But I can’t undo it.”
“I’m not asking you to.” She took a tentative step forward and reached out to him. “Can you please put down the sledgehammer?”
“When I’m finished here.” He refused to relinquish his grasp. “Just give me a few minutes to gather my thoughts.”
“You’ve had all night.”
“That didn’t begin to put a dent in it. This…” His free hand swept the length of the room. “…is the sort of therapy I need right now.”
“Demolishing the wall?”
“Exactly. Now step away before you get hurt. You’re not wearing safety equipment.”
“Do you have extra goggles? I’ll put on a pair and help you.”
“No, you won’t.” His gaze traveled the length of her.
Lila squirmed beneath his examination. Though she’d traded her spike-heeled pumps for flat sandals, she wore a sundress covered by a light sweater. Until this moment, she’d thought herself properly dressed.
“You’re not working in that. So scoot.” Morgan waited until she shuffled back a few steps, and then went back into motion. With effortless precision, he wielded a sledgehammer. Plaster spat and dust swirled in a miniature tornado as the last of the sheetrock crumbled and scattered at their feet.
Lila brushed shards from the tops of her toes. “Are you feeling better yet?”
“Starting to.” Morgan didn’t bother to stop the destruction. He moved on to dismantle the two-by-four frame. Debris salted his hair, and a heavy dusting of rubble rendered the blue of his jeans barely recognizable. “Just keep your distance. A 911 call isn’t on my to-do list.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a big girl, Morgan.” Lila rounded to what remained of the wall, still cognizant of maintaining a wide berth with the hammer. She studied Morgan’s face, noting the heavy shadow of stubble and the dark circles that framed red-rimmed eyes. The smoky-blue of his irises had dulled to dishwater gray. “No offense, but you don’t look so good. You look like you’ve worked all night. Did you?”
“I saw no point in wasting time tossing and turning when I knew sleep would refuse to come. So I headed back here from the diner, made some phone calls, and started a little preliminary work to get a jump on things.”
“We’ve only begun and you’re already running on empty, Morgan. That’s dangerous.”
He stood like a racehorse at the starting gate. Lila noticed work lanterns strategically positioned along the workspace to provide light during the night hours. “It’s obvious you’re focused on returning to Nashville as soon as possible. But I’ve told you the work here can wait. Will you please put that hammer down for a minute and talk to me?”
“And I told you I have no time to talk right now. There’s too much to do.” He shook sheetrock fragments from his hair. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m in a time crunch here.”
“Oh, believe me, I’ve noticed.” She paced the floor, searching for words. “Morgan, we can relax the completion date if need be. I’ll just continue to work out of my apartment for a while longer. It’s manageable. We haven’t finalized the contract yet, anyway. We’ll make adjustments.”
“That’s not what you said yesterday. Yesterday you were all about hurrying things along because you already have a line-up of wai
ting clients. And there’s the construction loan to consider.” Morgan punctuated his words with the crack of the hammer. “Well, now I’m the one who’s anxious to get this project done. I want out of here, back to Nashville, as soon as humanly possible.”
“Does that mean you’re quitting?” Lila went cold at the thought. Without a signed contract there was nothing to hold him here.
Morgan let the hammer drop to his side while his gaze speared hers.
“No, I already told you I’m not quitting. I gave you my word, Lila, even if we didn’t seal the promise with signatures. And I don’t go back on my word.” His eyes darkened to embers. “I made a promise to you and I’m good on my promises.”
“OK, then.” She drew a deep breath. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Was that a grin lifting the corners of his lips? Lila couldn’t be sure. It vanished as quickly as it had come. “Now, please let me finish this and then we’ll talk. I have a lot to say, and I want to say it right.”
“Fine. I’ll be in my office.”
“Your office?” Morgan lifted the goggles from his face. “What office?”
“Desk. Laptop.” Lila tapped the bag on her shoulder, indicating the device, then pointed to the antique desk, which she planned to push into a corner and unveil from the tarp. A crate would serve as a chair. “It’s all I need—for now, at least.”
“Good. Have at it. I’m getting back to work.”
As she crossed toward the desk, Morgan brought the hammer back into motion.
She turned back to ask him one more thing. Air swooshed by her ear.
“Good grief, Lila.” The color drained from Morgan’s face as he dropped the hammer. It clattered over hardwood. He took a step toward her, his jaw a tight band of tension while his eyes grew wide, blazing. “Don’t step in front of me like that while I’m swinging a hammer. Are you crazy?”
“No, not me.” Lila was careful to hold her tone in check, though her temper roiled. “I’m not the one who’s gone postal, attacking a poor, defenseless wall.”
