The Orchard at the Edge of Town

by Shirlee McCoy

She didn’t ask, though. Even the twins were silent as everyone got out of the SUV and walked to the house.

  Daisy, on the other hand, groaned loudly as Simon helped her inside. “This is terrible. The worst I’ve ever been. Maybe that knock on my head yesterday did more damage than the doctors thought.”

  “You didn’t get a knock on the head, Daisy, remember?” Simon reminded her gently.

  “I feel like I did.” She touched her forehead and swayed. “I think I’d better lie down.”

  “I’ll help you upstairs.” Simon nudged her toward the stairs, but she walked into the living room and dropped onto the couch.

  “I think I’ll just lie here for a while. Don’t let me stop you from having your lunch, Apricot.” She covered her eyes with her forearm and lay still.

  Sticking around and eating lunch when Daisy was feeling so crappy just seemed . . . wrong. Which didn’t mean that Apricot wasn’t tempted to do it anyway.

  She liked Simon and the girls.

  Not to mention the fact that returning home meant facing Rose, Lilac, and Hubert.

  She’d been trying hard to forget they were there. In the house. Waiting for her to return.

  She hoped to heaven there wasn’t any chicken-foot gumbo waiting with them.

  “I’d probably better leave,” she said, because it was the right thing to do. “I’ll come for lunch another day.”

  “Really,” Daisy said weakly. “Stay. If I smell pickles and need to puke, I’ll do it quietly so that I don’t ruin your meal.”

  Simon snorted. “That’s really gracious of you, Daisy, but I think Apricot is right. We’ll do lunch another day. How about tomorrow?” His gaze settled on her, all foresty green and compelling, and she thought that she’d agree to just about anything he wanted.

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll pick you up at your place.”

  “You’re working tomorrow,” Daisy reminded him.

  “I have an hour for lunch. That’ll be plenty of time to eat a sandwich. We can eat in the park, if that sounds good to you.”

  “It sounds . . .” Fantastic! Wonderful! Heavenly! “Great.”

  “Good. Now, I’ve got to get you home and get back here to Daisy. Girls! Apricot has to leave!” he called. There was a flurry of footsteps and a frenzy of wild protests as the girls ran down the stairs, fuzzy kittens following along behind them.

  “We were going to have sandwiches with pickles,” Rori cried. “I was going to even put mustard on your sandwich so it would be fancy.”

  “That sounds delicious, but your aunt needs to rest, and I don’t want to keep her from doing it.”

  “She wouldn’t need to rest if she hadn’t gone out last night,” Evie griped.

  “I didn’t go out last night,” Daisy muttered from beneath her forearm.

  “Yes, you did. I heard you leave.”

  “That was me,” Simon cut in. “I had to go into work.”

  “It was Daisy. She went out after you came home, so it’s her own fault that she’s tired, and she should have to get the consequences.” Evie scowled. “I think Apricot should just stay here. If Aunt Daisy doesn’t like it she can go home.”

  “Evangeline Rose!” Simon barked. “You’re being very rude to your aunt.”

  “I’m not. I’m being truthful.”

  “How about you be truthful in your room? Because that’s where you’re going to spend the next hour.”

  “But—”

  “Go.” He pointed to the steps, and she went, shoulders slumped, wild hair hanging listlessly.

  “Sorry about that,” he said after she disappeared from view.

  “I think we’re all feeling a little tense. Ready?” He sounded so tired, so worn out, that she did the most natural thing in the world—linked her arm through his and tugged him outside.

  “It will get better,” she assured him, even though she didn’t know if it was true.

  “After Daisy leaves,” he murmured so quietly that she almost didn’t hear.

  “You don’t want her here?”

  “To put it bluntly, no.”

  “Evie isn’t the only one who likes to tell the truth,” Apricot said with a laugh.

  “As long as Daisy isn’t around to hear, I guess the truth won’t hurt her.” His gaze dropped to her lips and settled there. “I’ve been thinking, Apricot.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

  He smiled, but there was no humor in his eyes. “It’s funny how life is. You’re just walking along, doing your thing, thinking that what you have is all you need. Then something happens and you realize you’re missing something important.”

  “Simon—”

  “Thanks for watching the girls again.” Just like that he changed the subject, and she wondered if he’d really been saying what she thought he was—that he hadn’t known what was missing until she’d walked into his life.

  “It was no problem.”

  “Maybe not, but I do appreciate it. The girls really enjoy spending time with you, and it gives them a little freedom from . . .” He didn’t finish the thought, and she didn’t ask. She had a feeling she knew. Freedom from Daisy’s rules, from her fancy dresses and need to make the girls into beautiful little dolls. That was fine for Rori. She seemed to enjoy the girly clothes and perfect manners, but Evie was a rebel.

  “How long has Daisy been helping with the girls?” she asked as he backed the SUV out of the driveway.

  “Close to six years. I moved here after my wife died, and Daisy stepped in to lend a hand.”

  She wanted to ask him about his wife.

  She wanted to know what she was like, if he’d loved her. If he still did.

  “Daisy must have been really young,” she said instead.

  “She was. Just out of college. She’d accepted a job at the library here, and she kept begging Megan to move back to town.”

  “Is that why you moved here with the girls after Megan died?”

  “It was one of the reasons.” He shrugged. “We buried Megan in the church cemetery. I was standing there, listening to a pastor who didn’t know my wife talk about her life, and I looked at all the people who had known her—people she’d grown up with, people who understood her—and I thought that this was the right place for the girls. I guess I was afraid if we stayed in Houston, they’d never know anything about their mother except for what I could tell them.”

  “That’s . . .” Sweet. Beautiful. Lovely. None of the words seemed adequate. “I bet your wife would be happy if she knew they were here.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Megan was a woman full of contradictions. She’d smile for the world and be completely broken inside. She’d say she was content, but inside, she’d be wanting a hundred things she’d never ask for.”

  “Did you love her?” The question just kind of slipped out, and she couldn’t regret it. She wanted to know. She even felt like she might need to know, because Simon wasn’t a guy full of contradictions. He was exactly what he seemed to be—a good father, a good cop, a good friend.

  “Now, that’s a loaded question, isn’t it?” He turned onto the dirt road that led to Rose’s house, and she thought he might not answer. After several heartbeats of silence, he continued. “I guess the simple answer is that I did love her.”

  “What’s the complicated one?”

  He glanced her way, his face craggy and a little worn in the late afternoon light. “You’re asking a lot of questions, Apricot Sunshine. Better be careful, or I might think you’ve got a reason for it.”

  “I do. I want to know.”

  “Why?”

  Good question.

  She didn’t have a good answer. “Most people ask questions when they’re getting to know someone. It’s just what’s done.”

  “Uh-huh,” he responded, and she scowled.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means there’s more to it than that, and I’m not sure why someone as bold as you are is afraid to say it.”r />
  “I’m not afraid to say anything.”

  “Except that you’re curious and interested.”

  “Of course I’m interested. Megan was your wife and the girls’ mother, and I like all three of you. I can’t help wondering about her.”

  “Can’t help asking if I loved her? Can’t help asking why my answer to that is complicated?” He pulled into Rose’s driveway and parked the SUV, then turned to face her. “I’ll tell you the truth, Apricot, since that’s what you seem to want. I met Megan my first year of college, and fell for her hook, line, and sinker. She was pretty and fun and bright. I’d say that was just about everything a nineteen-year-old kid could want in a woman. I was still in love with her when we got married, when we had the girls, when she died.”

  “You don’t have to talk about this.”

  “I don’t, but I will, because you asked, and because I want you to know.” He smiled, and her heart just kind of reached out for his, just kind of flowed toward him like a wave flows toward shore. “I loved Megan, and I know she loved me, but she had problems that she hid really well. I don’t think she was ever as honest with me as I was with her. She’d gown up tough. Both her parents died before we met, and she’d been raised by her grandparents. They weren’t all that nice, the way I hear it. I don’t know if that made a difference in the way she was, but I do know that she had a lot of big ideas about the way love was supposed to be. When we met, she thought I was her knight in shining armor. A few years later, she was in a car accident. I stood by her, helped her heal. We both figured if we could get through that we could get through anything.”

  “It sounds like you did. Until she . . .”

  “Died of an accidental overdose. She was addicted to prescription painkillers.”

  “I’m sorry, Simon.” She touched his arm, and he covered her hand with his.

  “Me too, but sorry can’t bring her back, and it can’t change the fact that I didn’t know. After the girls’ birth, I’d noticed that she seemed forgetful, tired, that she fell asleep on the couch watching TV. I worked long hours, and she had full responsibility for two babies. I figured that was why. In reality, she was an addict and fed her addiction by going to urgent care, complaining of back spasms and migraines. The coroner thought it probably started after the car accident. When the girls were born, the back pain got worse, and she started relying on the medicine more and more. Eventually, it got the best of her.”

  “You can’t blame yourself for that.”

  “Wouldn’t you?” he asked, meeting her eyes.

  “Probably,” she admitted, because she knew that she would have.

  “Then you understand why I can’t forgive myself.”

  “Simon—”

  “Here’s the thing, Apricot. You asked if I loved Megan. I did, but I don’t think I really knew her. Not the way I should have. She kept her prescription pill bottle on the windowsill in the kitchen. I had no idea she was having it refilled over and over again. Sometimes I lie in bed at night, and I think about that bottle, and I wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t trusted Megan so much, believed in her so deeply. It never, ever occurred to me that she was struggling, because she kept smiling at me and telling me everything was great.”

  “You are the most honest person I have ever met,” she said, touching his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin and the tension in his jaw. “You thought she was being honest too.”

  “And she died because of it.” He lifted her hand, pressed a kiss to her palm. “I like you, Apricot. A lot. I’m not going to lie about it. I’m not going to pretend it’s something that it’s not. But I’m not going through what I did with Megan ever again. If I’m with someone, she has to be as honest with me as I am with her.”

  “I understand,” she said, her heart thundering in her chest, her fingers curving around that warm spot on her palm. The spot where his lips had been.

  “Good. Now . . .” He glanced at the house. “You’d better head in. I just saw your mother peeking out of the door.”

  “I don’t care about my mother,” she replied, her body finding its way closer to his, her lips finding their way to his mouth. She meant to offer a hug, a light kiss of sympathy, compassion, empathy. But he tasted like rich dark chocolate and whiskey. Like strawberries straight from the field. He tasted like everything wonderful she’d ever had, and she didn’t want to move away.

  “Apricot!” Lilac called.

  “Dear God in heaven, that woman!” she muttered, moving away, her heart still pounding frantically.

  Simon laughed. “She’s got great timing. I’ll give her that.”

  “Planned timing,” she responded, climbing out of the SUV and bracing herself for a bowlful of chicken-foot gumbo and whatever advice Lilac was preparing to give her.

  She would have marched to the front door herself, but Simon fell into step beside her, his arm brushing hers as they made their way up the porch steps.

  She felt like a high school kid coming home from her first date, giddy and a little disconcerted. Not quite sure if she’d see the guy again, but hoping that maybe she would.

  He pulled her to a stop in front of the door, his hands cupping her elbows as he looked into her eyes. “I’ve been thinking again.”

  “Should I ask what about?” Her heart pounded heavily and her mouth was dry, but she managed to smile, because she always felt like smiling when she looked into Simon’s eyes.

  “Your name,” he responded, his hands sliding to her shoulders and then to her cheeks. “It’s perfect for you.”

  “It is?” she squeaked, and he chuckled.

  “More perfect than Anna or Annie.”

  “Anna is a pretty name,” she murmured, backing away a little so she could think. Because when he was near? Yeah. He was all she could think about.

  “Sure it is, but Apricot Sunshine suits you.” His thumb ran along the underside of her jaw. “Kind of like biscuits and sausage gravy. You and your name just go together.”

  That made her laugh.

  He cupped her jaw so gently, so sweetly, she wanted to cry from how beautiful it was. When he kissed her she wasn’t surprised. Not with the kiss. Not with how tender it was. Not with the longing that swelled up from the deepest part of her heart.

  Someone knocked on the living room window.

  “What are you doing out there?” Lilac called as if she couldn’t see for herself.

  Simon glanced at the window, offered a quick wave. “I guess this is my cue to go.”

  “You don’t have to,” Apricot responded, and she felt just a little desperate and a whole lot foolish, because Simon did have to leave. He had Daisy to take care of and the girls to worry about.

  “The girls are probably driving Daisy batty.” He kissed her forehead, the gesture as easy and friendly as a handshake or a hello. To Apricot, it felt like so much more. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Lunch, remember?” He threw the words over his shoulder as he jogged down the porch stairs. “I’ll pick you up at noon.”

  He was in the SUV and driving away before Apricot’s brain reminded her to breathe. And move. And, actually, think.

  “He’s a winner!” Lilac called, her face pressed against the window. “Don’t you let him slip through your fingers.”

  “Shut up, Lilac!” Hubert shouted from somewhere inside the house.

  Lilac turned away, her response muffled.

  No doubt they were heading for another rip-roaring fight.

  Apricot could stay and listen to it or she could go for a walk through the orchard. Maybe do a little pruning. Get herself as far away from her parents’ bickering as possible.

  It was a no-brainer.

  She’d spent her childhood listening to Hubert and Lilac ripping each other to shreds verbally. As amusing as they could be, they grew boring when they were together—just one swipe after another.

  She could hear them shouting as she walked around the side of the house
. It reminded her of long-ago summer nights spent sitting on the tire swing, the sound of her parents’ arguments filling the quiet night. She’d never thought much about it. The arguing was all she’d ever known, but she’d promised herself that she wouldn’t have the same. That when she grew up, got married, had her own life, things would be nice and quiet and peaceful.

  They had been.

  Her life with Lionel had been just exactly what she’d wanted. That had been enough. Or maybe it hadn’t, because Lionel had found someone else, and she was alone, thinking about a man who made her laugh more than anyone else ever had.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Two days. Two! Listening to Daisy moan about her head, her scrapes, her invisible wounds.

  And, God help him, Simon was about to lose it.

  In a big way.

  He gritted his teeth, the phone pressed to his ear as Daisy went on and on and on about the MRI she had scheduled for the following day. He should never have brought her to pick out a new cell phone. Shooting himself in the foot would have resulted in a lot less pain.

  “Daisy,” he finally cut it. “We’ve been over this. You don’t need an MRI.”

  “Then why did my doctor write me a referral for one?” she demanded in the high-pitched breathy voice she’d been using nonstop since she’d been mugged.

  Because you are driving her as crazy as you’re driving me, and she wanted to get you out of her office didn’t seem like the right thing to say.

  “An overabundance of caution?” he suggested.

  “It isn’t an overabundance of anything!” she protested so loudly Max looked up from his cubicle across from Simon’s and frowned.

  “Problems?” he mouthed, his smirk only adding to Simon’s irritation.

  He shrugged, turning so he was facing away from Max. “How about you fill me in on the rest of this when I get home?” he suggested. “Work is hectic today.”

  Not really, but it was as good an excuse as any to get her off the phone.

  “Isn’t this your lunch break?” she asked.

  “It would be if I weren’t on the phone with you,” he muttered.

  Behind him, Max snickered.

  “Shut up, Max!” he barked, and Max laughed full-out.