Pucker Up

by Seimas, Valerie

  He smiled at her, knowing exactly how she felt. He’d been pushing Dustin towards this place for ten years; it was still startling that he’d arrived.

  The sun was shining through the bright windows, giving the office a cheery, comfortable feeling. And Bea’s smile could light up any room. But Peter felt an uneasy sense of foreboding. The same one he’d felt the night he got a call from a hospital during a rainstorm. “Dustin.” He frowned, putting his glass down on the desk and rushing out of the room.

  He saw Faith running out of the stable and quickened his pace, reaching the doors just as her car peeled down the dirt road. “What happened?” he asked, afraid he already knew.

  “Didn’t exactly go as expected,” Dustin murmured, dropping down to his knees in the middle of the stable. “Why did you never tell me?”

  Peter looked at him with concern and dropped down beside him. “Tell you what?”

  “That she was Andy Peters.”

  Peter sat back on his haunches, shocked. “How do you even know who Andy Peters is?”

  “Andy Peters, the songwriter on every single song you’ve handed me in the last six years. Every. Single. One.”

  Their eyes met, and he saw the recrimination and sadness there. Peter stood and shook the dust from his jeans. “You think it would have mattered?”

  “You think it wouldn’t have?” Dustin shot back.

  “I don’t think it would have made a damn bit of difference.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you weren’t ready to hear it, man,” Peter said. “You wouldn’t have believed it. You were too preoccupied feeling hurt that she left you that you were blind to everything else.”

  “So your response was to hand me songs?” Dustin’s raised brow showed his opinion on that plan.

  “So I handed you songs. And magazine articles. And every opportunity possible to tell kids bedtime stories. Yeah, I did. Because you were too damn stubborn to listen to anything else.”

  Peter paced the floor. “How many times did I tell you to go after her?” He laughed harshly. “I have been so fucking annoyed with you for letting your pride stop you from chasing after her.”

  “My pride?”

  “Your stupid pride. You thought it was dignity, but it wasn’t – it was cowardice.”

  “Cowardice?” Dustin said, taken aback. “You think I was being cowardly?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  Dustin finally rose from the floor. “Who the hell are you to say that to me?”

  “The guy that would have crawled over hot coals to see Darcy again just one more time. Even if it was to fight with her. Even if it meant being blamed or wronged or pierced through the heart.”

  Peter’s breathing slowed, tamping down on his own feelings. “You don’t think it was pride? Think of where you’d be now if you’d just gotten her to talk to you.”

  “I’m trying really hard not to,” Dustin said, anger clear in his words. It was his turn to pace the floor. “You think I don’t know how monumentally I screwed up? You think I want to think about the ten years we could have had together if I’d just went straight from the hospital to her side?

  “And now, I tell her exactly how I feel, lay it all on the line, and she still leaves. Doesn’t know if she can trust me. Which kills me. I mean, I get it; don’t get me wrong, I get it – because I monumentally fucked it up last time. But I’m still dying inside.”

  Peter laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “What did she say?”

  He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Time. She needed time.”

  “But not space?” Peter murmured.

  “No,” Dustin said, looking up at his twin, “not space.”

  “Then you just have to be there,” Peter said. “Show up, every day. Until there isn’t even a possibility that you won’t be.”

  Chapter 25

  “I don’t know what to believe anymore,” Faith said as way of greeting, barging into Maya’s veterinary practice. The receptionist just stared at her, mouth gaping open.

  “Someone needs a check-up,” Maya said, coming across the waiting room to take Faith by the elbow.

  “Am I going to have to crawl on all fours to get one?”

  “I don’t discriminate. Just as long as you’re part of the animal kingdom.”

  Faith glanced around as she was led down the hall. “You’re not busy, are you?”

  “Look at that, my afternoon just cleared right up,” Maya said as she motioned her through a doorway. It wasn’t into an exam room but an office with stately wood paneling. She was pushed down into an armchair, Maya dropping down next to her in its twin.

  “Was it a bad idea to come here?” Faith asked, staring down at her hands clenched in her lap.

  Maya smiled and laid a hand over hers, quieting their fidgeting. “It was the best idea to come here. What happened?”

  “Bea said she wanted to talk to me about a charity concert, so I drove down to see her.”

  “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

  “Except she wasn’t the one that wanted to talk to me. Dustin was waiting.”

  “And?” Maya prompted after Faith fell silent.

  “And he told me things that… that, I don’t know, I just… I just don’t know…”

  “Faith, sweetie, that’s not true,” Maya said, giving her hands a squeeze. Faith’s head came up in surprise, but Maya’s expression was all comfort. “You always know. Whether you want to admit it or face it, that’s a different story. But you always know.”

  Another truth Faith didn’t want to confront. She groped about for a change of subject. “How come you never wrote anything else?” she asked. Maya had gotten the demand to stop – maybe that’s what Faith needed. A change, a big change. No more Andy Peters, no more reason to always feel torn asunder.

  “Who said I didn’t?” Maya asked with feigned indignation. She shot Faith a secretive smile as she got up and walked over to her bookcase. “I took a few pointers from you as it were.”

  Maya handed her a couple of paperback books. “Sleeping With the Fishes, A Dr. Cynthia Hardwick Veterinary Mystery,” she read. The byline said Erika Chapman. “You wrote these?”

  “I sure did. I’m not too shabby at it either.” Faith flipped over the book to skim the blurb on the back cover. “Blends all my passions – animals, writing, and getting into everyone’s business.”

  Faith laughed at that. “You were the gossip.”

  “I was not the gossip. Gossip implies ill intent and talking behind people’s backs. I just like to know what’s going on – because I care – and sometimes I offer advice.”

  “Mmmhmm,” Faith murmured.

  “I never said the advice was always solicited.”

  “Do you remember the time you told Angie she should cut her hair?” Faith laughed.

  Maya joined in. “That was some really, really bad advice. I’m so happy Charlie convinced her to get that wig first.”

  “We had some fun times.”

  “We still could,” Maya said, “if you’d let yourself.”

  “Here comes the advice.” Faith sighed.

  “Don’t pretend it’s not why you came here, girlie.”

  “I don’t know why I came here.”

  “Liar. You know exactly why you came here. You came to see me.”

  Faith ran her fingers over the spine of the book, tracing the letters in Maya’s pen name. How had they both ended up hiding away parts of themselves? “How can you help me,” she whispered, “when you’re doing the same thing as me.”

  “No, I’m not,” Maya scoffed. She took the book from Faith’s hand and held it up. “I’m not hiding behind this. I’ll tell anyone and everyone about this; I’m damn proud of it. The same can’t be said for you. I have separation; you have secrets.”

  She knew Maya was right, but she had no idea how to stop keeping them, no idea if the foundations of who she was would start to crumble when exposed to the light. But who was she, really? Heartbroken
and sullen when she didn’t have to be if everything Dustin had said to her was true, had offered her was true.

  “I don’t know if I can do it again,” Faith whispered. “It destroyed me last time. He destroyed me last time, absolutely destroyed me.”

  “You were young then. And you’ve both done a lot of growing up since then.”

  “I’m worried it’s not enough.” Faith jumped up out of the chair and started pacing the floor. “That it’s all an illusion. And we don’t want all the pain to be for nothing, so we’re building it up into more than it was, more than it was meant to be.”

  “Bullshit,” Maya said, giving Faith a stare she couldn’t run from. “Right here, right now, stop lying to yourself. What’s really bothering you? What’s this really all about?”

  “For the last ten years I thought I was a disappointment. That I wasn’t good enough and had no idea why.” Her voice was full of unshed tears. “I can’t bear the thought of failing after all this time. I’m not the same person I was, I can’t be the same person I was, and if that’s who Dustin is expecting then I’m screwed either way.”

  Maya came to her side, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I don’t think that you’re giving either of you enough credit. You both know the only direction to move is forward.”

  “Forward,” Faith murmured. “What’s that?”

  “Hey, Dad.”

  Peter looked up in surprise at Melody coming through the front door. “Sweet Pea, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you at school?”

  “Harm’s in trouble, so she’s been on radio silence since last weekend. I wanted to see you guys, see how everyone is. And…” She reached a hand outside and pulled Eric in behind her, the screen banging against him.

  “Oh,” was all Peter said. He cleared his throat, got up from the table, and made his way around the room to hug his daughter. “Is this a distraction technique?” he whispered in her ear.

  “Absolutely,” she responded with a grin.

  “Eric, I’m assuming,” Peter said with a handshake.

  “Sir, very nice to meet you.”

  “You’re right. Just remember that I’m the nice one.”

  “He’s already met Uncle Dust, remember?”

  “Well then, he already knows I’m the nice one.” Peter’s forehead creased, the delight at seeing his daughter dampening just a bit. “I’m always overjoyed to see you, honey, but you probably should have called first. Your uncle is – ”

  “Her uncle is what?” Dustin asked as he entered the house. “Harmony, get down here. I need some help!” he yelled to the rafters before smiling at their new arrivals. “Melody and Eric, fantastic. I can use all the hands that are handy.”

  “What’s going on? Mel!” Harmony was halfway down the stairs before noticing her sister. She never made it to her side though because all the Andrews stopped in their tracks when they saw Dustin drop a huge box of lemons on the table.

  “What are those for?” Peter asked hesitantly. A few lemons to make a pie was one thing. A whole barrel of them spelled trouble.

  Dustin grabbed one and sliced it open with a pocketknife. “Eating,” he said before taking a bite out if it like it was an orange and he was a soccer player at halftime. The girls couldn’t help it; they gasped. “New meaning for pucker up,” he said as his mouth pursed at the acidic taste. “But damn, I do grow good lemons, don’t I?”

  Harmony and Melody looked at their uncle like he’d gone insane, but Peter, knowing the truth, couldn’t help but laugh. This was what he’d been waiting for, for his twin to stop demonizing the past and make peace with it so they could all move forward. A taste of lemon was exactly that.

  “What are you doing with all of those lemons?”

  “What are we doing with all of these lemons, you mean?”

  “Of course,” Peter said with a grin, “that’s exactly what I meant. What are we doing with them?”

  “I’ve been thinking, and it’s time we improve on Mom’s famous tarts.”

  “Um,” Harmony said, attitude on display as she finished coming down the stairs, “you can’t improve on perfection. That’s blasphemy just saying so.”

  “I’m with the Felon on this one,” Melody said.

  “Great,” Harmony murmured, “that nickname is going to stick.”

  “Mom’s apple tarts were the best,” Peter said, knowing exactly where this was going.

  “They were,” Dustin said with a nod. “But I still think I can make lemon ones that are better. All those ribbons at the fair have to count for something.”

  The girls were shocked into silence. “I love lemon-flavored anything,” Eric said with a smile.

  “Good man. I think I like him,” Dustin said. He tossed a lemon to the boy. “You can be in charge of zesting.”

  “Go put your apron on,” Melody said, pushing Harmony towards the kitchen, “we’ve got baking to do.”

  The kids filed into the kitchen, and Peter stepped to Dustin’s side. “Why are we really making tarts?”

  “Peace offering,” he murmured.

  “Peace offering?”

  Dustin cocked a brow at his brother. “I might have treated her badly but not the lemons. Never the lemons.”

  Peter laughed. “You think a lemon curd is going to solve all your problems?”

  “Not just any lemon curd. The best lemon curd this side of Texas.” Dustin moved from the table to the kitchen, grabbing the mixer from the counter and unfurling the cord. “And my girl loves lemons.”

  Faith grumbled all the way down the stairs, annoyed to be called from her nice warm bed. The mattress never refused to support her. The comforter was always there to wrap itself around her. She didn’t need anything else, not at all.

  “What could you possibly need this early?”

  Pearl raised an eyebrow at her. “My, aren’t we cheery this morning.” Maya, Jackson, and her chef and formed a band of sorts, one to get her out of her funk. And into Dustin’s arms if they had anything to say about it. Faith was sure they’d missed their moment and was just trying her best to forget what that had been like.

  “There’s a package that you have to sign for – they won’t let me do it. Good morning to you too.” Pearl smiled and walked away.

  Faith ran a hand through her hair, barely caring if there was a photographer on the other side of the door to catch her. She made most of her money being completely invisible, who cared that she had bedhead.

  The lanky teenager on the other side of the door looked vaguely familiar, but she didn’t dwell on it, not at the sight of the bright pink pastry box in his hands. “Faith West?” he asked before handing her a clipboard to sign. She scrawled her name across it, barely even looking at the paper, and then was handed the curious package.

  Did Maya send me pastries as a pick-me-up? Not a horrible idea, she thought as she set the box down on the foyer table. She opened it, and her brow furrowed. “What do we have here?” Two tarts sat in the box, one covered with meringue and the other with raspberries and a sprig of green. She dipped her finger into the white topping, unable to resist, as the box made a sound.

  Faith moved aside the crinkly white paper at the bottom of the box and uncovered a cell phone. “Just my luck,” she murmured as she picked it up. “I have to chase after a delivery guy to return his phone.” She turned it over to see the screen and had to blink her eyes a few times to believe it. The phone’s wallpaper was Dustin biting into a lemon. It pinged again, and she noticed the text message.

  Lemons will always remind me of you.

  Faith tried to ignore the delivery. But once she finally put it out of her mind the next morning, another package arrived. Two more lemon tarts, this time one with blueberries and one with a candied lemon peel. The new phone pinged right as she was opening the package, resonating faintly from the foyer drawer she’d hidden it in. She pulled it out and reluctantly read the message. Sometimes I still think about that rainstorm we got stuck in.

  It cont
inued like that for a week, tarts and text message arriving on her doorstep:

  Things you’ll still find in my closet: Attitunes shirts, expensive cufflinks, a bag of that ridiculously expensive coffee (which still tastes like asphalt)

  If I did anything right in my life it was when I gave my heart to you.

  Do you remember when your horse got spooked and I had to save you like something out of a movie? You and Rosie were scared half to death but even when I was yelling at you, couldn’t help but notice that you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

  When the doorbell rang for the fifth day in a row, Faith didn’t even answer it. She didn’t wait for a text message to arrive either before sending one of her own. How long are you going to keep sending me tarts?

  Dustin’s reply was instantaneous. Long enough already?

  She wanted to be pithy, but something else came out, unfiltered. Every time I see them I can’t help but remember my cooking lesson.

  And me?

  And you, she admitted.

  She answered the door and put the tarts in the fridge, these topped with kiwis and dragon fruit, before seeing his reply. Then I’ll just keep sending them forever… So you’ll never forget me.

  She sighed and shook her head with a smile but a slightly exasperated one. If it hasn’t happened so far, not sure you have anything to worry about.

  Sweet treats for sweet memories, he responded.

  Her fingers hovered over the keys for a moment. Most of them weren’t sweet.

  Most of them were – you just need something to remind you.

  Faith sighed and pushed the phone away, dropping her head into her hands as they rested against the table. Was that true? Was she only remembering the bad things, forgetting about all of the shiny, happy things in between? Was her memory one of revisionist history?

  They used to argue a lot, but what else would happen when two strong-willed people got together? They were young, just trying to navigate growing up. Faith had been everywhere; Dustin hadn’t been anywhere, but he had an adventurous spirit. He was always worried she’d leave him behind, but the best part of her life was always coming home. She’d just wanted to be her, without the persona or demands. Someplace where there was peace. That had been him.