by Maggie Marr
“I have a brother Brian and he’s coming to L.A. tomorrow.”
“From Malaysia?”
Poppy looked up from her plate and her eyebrow lifted.
“There was a lot of information that came back when I was searching for your address.”
Her hands grew clammy. Trevor knew more than she’d told him. Her throat tightened. “How much information?”
Trevor’s eyes flicked from his coffee cup to Poppy’s face. “Probably more than you’d like. But Poppy, I think you’d feel best if I knew nothing at all about you.” He flashed her a wicked smile. “Other than that you have a scar just above your beautiful ass.”
“Stop!” She returned his smile. “Okay, fine. You’re right, I do feel vulnerable when people know details about my life. I just need to digest that you know everything about me? Right? I mean, you know about Mimi and the girls and Brian and I suppose about my father. I’m guessing you even know about Therese.”
“I did get the facts about your life, but that isn’t really a life, is it? The facts just tell the scenario, but to know the story? You have to hear it from the person who lived it.” Trevor leaned closer to her. “The nuances tell you the truth about a person. I’ve got most of that language down for you, Poppy. I know your tones and your eye movements, I’ve just never seen any of that applied to the facts of your life.”
Her breath shortened. Naked. She suddenly felt absolutely naked and afraid sitting at Trevor’s kitchen table. My God, Trevor did know her. They’d developed the shorthand of a couple. She could communicate with him simply by a look or a raised eyebrow or the curve of her mouth. Now if he had the facts and saw how she reacted to these people … she could hide nothing. Oh my God. Her heart beat fast. How could she ever survive someone knowing her this well? How did anyone survive?
“I see I’ve managed to strike fear into your heart.”
She pulled her gaze away from Trevor’s eyes and looked out the window at the wind-whipped peaks in the ocean.
“You’re right. This is terrifying.”
“Yes,” Trevor said softly. “It is.” He stood and lifted both her plate and his and took them to the kitchen. He returned and sat beside her. “I seem to have the advantage, and as you know, I’m big on fairness. So why don’t I start? You haven’t had the benefit of a private investigator who happened so be on staff for your family since you were born.”
“You have security?”
Trevor nodded. “Silly, right? I mean, I am pretty tough.”
A laugh burst from Poppy’s lips. “Trevor, tough? You’re the biggest pushover.”
“Okay, well, maybe not.” He reached out and took her hand into his. “Let me live in denial. But really”—his azure blue eyes caught hers— “ask away. What do you want to know?”
“I want to know about your family and Up Side Burger and the idea of you running the company.”
Trevor told her. Spent the next hour explaining his family history with the restaurant to her. He laid out the requirements that he or a sibling run Up Side.
“And you don’t want to do it?” Poppy asked.
Trevor stood and walked toward the kitchen, where he poured two more cups of coffee. “Three days ago I didn’t want to do it.”
“And now?”
“And now I understand what Up Side Burger means to my family and my future.”
Poppy’s eyebrows crinkled. “What’s changed?
Trevor set the coffee on the table. He knelt before Poppy and grasped both her hands. “You, Poppy. You’ve changed it. Being here with you, I understand why my dad came back to Los Angeles, why he didn’t need to play his music in the same way anymore. I’m not saying that I won’t write for the rest of my life or even publish, but what I am saying is I’ve found something bigger than just me and my needs.” He reached out and brushed her curls back over her shoulder. “I want us, and as long as this thing between us is working and intact, then I’m okay. Doesn’t matter if I’m flipping burgers, making drinks, writing stories, or running a company. You. Us. Together. This makes everything worthwhile.”
Poppy’s heart spun. She took a deep breath. She felt the same way, but his words, the things that Trevor said, the tone of his voice, weren’t laced with the fear that flooded her body.
He grasped her hands. “I want us to be together. If you tell me that you can do that here, or if you can do that in Hong Kong, wherever, whatever, then I will make that work. Do you get it? Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“You’re freaking me out.”
“Of course I am.” Trevor ran his fingertips over her cheekbone. “I know this scares you. The idea of letting yourself love me enough to commit to forever.” A smile spread over Trevor’s face. “But here’s the thing, it’s too late, Poppy. For both of us. I’ve given you my heart and whether you wanted to or not, you’ve given your heart to me.”
She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes. She nodded and opened them again. “I just … I’ve seen what happens when love doesn’t work out. When people can’t stay, when they’re abandoned and alone, and the children, and what if our children—”
Trevor’s eyes widened.
She stopped.
Her eyes slid to the left, then closed. She’d said it. A deep breath pulled through her lungs. She’d spoken about a future with Trevor that contained children and a life and commitment and she’d meant it. She turned her gaze back to him. “If we ever had children, Trevor, I wouldn’t want them to go through what I went through.”
To his credit, he kept a giant grin from slipping onto his face. “I’ll do anything and everything to make certain any children we may or may not have never experience that kind of abandonment.”
Trevor meant what he said. But hadn’t her father thought similar things when it came to his relationship with Therese?
“I …” Across the room her ring tone shattered the silence, her fear, and the unknown.
Trevor stood and walked toward the table beside the couch where she’d left her phone. He handed it to her.
“Hi, Mimi,” Poppy said. She listened to her sister and mentally said good-bye to a simple luxurious Trevor-filled day.
“I’m sorry. I know you’re out and … you’re trying to work through this thing and I didn’t want to interrupt but—”
“No, it’s fine.” Poppy glanced toward Trevor. She now leaned against the kitchen island while he loaded the dishwasher. “Did you want to go to the hospital? I can probably be back in like an hour.”
With the silence from Mimi, Poppy’s heart twisted. Her gut tightened. “Mimi?”
“Pop, it’s worse than that … Mom is—”
“Is she dead?” The air burst from Poppy’s chest. Poppy spun away from Trevor, who had now turned toward her.
“No”—Mimi sighed—“but she’s taken a turn and they don’t think it’ll be long. They’re giving her some strong drugs. And well, Daniel gets back from Vancouver around two and he’ll be with the kids. I phoned Brian and he’s taking an earlier flight. Should get in late today.”
Poppy’s fingers tingled. Her legs were numb; she couldn’t even feel her feet. She slowly sat on a chair. “I …” She closed her eyes. A noise roared in her head. What to do? Mimi had said she’d need to make peace with Therese dying, that it was only a matter of time, but Poppy had thought, believed, hoped that she’d have months, at the very least weeks, to come to some sort of internal terms with the idea of losing Therese, the woman who had borne her.
“Poppy, I respect how you feel about Therese, but I thought you might want to come by the hospital. I can pick you up or you could meet me there. I just … I don’t know, Poppy. I just think you’re really going to regret not saying good-bye when you’re older, or if you ever choose to have your own children. It’s different once you have them … I swear to you, it is.”
Poppy fought the unkind words that she longed to say. She wanted to lash out at Mimi, who’d had the luxury of a mother until her adolescen
ce.
“I’ll meet you there,” Poppy said. She glanced across the room. The clock over the sink indicated that it was already after noon now. By the time she showered and changed … did Trevor have something she could wear? “Around three.” Could he drive her to UCLA?
He wiped the counter and didn’t even pretend that he wasn’t hearing what she was talking about with Mimi. She respected him for that. They’d fibbed to each other long enough. Now it was time to be truthful and see if their feelings could withstand the onslaught of a reality that wasn’t Mesquale.
“See you then.”
Poppy tapped the off button and placed the phone on the kitchen island. She was losing Therese, most likely today. She knew she’d already really lost her mother, the woman she had loved and had clung to the day Therese left their family. A woman who hadn’t looked back once, even when her five-year-old daughter stood on the front steps and called for Mommy. Mimi had come after Poppy, grabbed her, and scooped her up into her arms. Always Mimi holding and taking care of Poppy. Mimi was right. Even if Poppy couldn’t make peace with Therese, she did need to say good-bye to her.
“It’s your mom?”
Poppy looked at Trevor and nodded. “She isn’t doing well. They don’t think she’s going to live much longer.”
Trevor scrubbed his hand through his hair. “I can take you. When should we go? You should shower and there are clothes in the guest room. I’m sure you can find a shirt that’ll work. If not we can stop at your sister’s, or a mall.”
“Okay.”
Trevor had snapped into hyperaware overdrive. Suddenly making a mental list so that Poppy didn’t need to.
“I’ll go with you,” he said. He grasped both her hands and pulled her close.
“I’d rather go alone,” she said.
His body stiffened for an instant.
“I …” Poppy looked into his eyes. “I just need to do this alone. I need to say good-bye to her and I haven’t seen her in over two decades … I’m sorry if that hurts you, but I need to close this chapter by myself.”
Trevor nodded. He tilted his head and confusion raced through his eyes, but he did a great job of pretending he understood her decision to say good-bye to Therese alone.
“Go get ready.” He lifted her hand to his cheek. “We’ll leave whenever you want.”
“Thank you.” Poppy stepped forward and lifted herself onto her tippy-toes to plant a kiss on his lips. He might not like her decision, but a look of patient acceptance clung to his features.
Poppy walked toward the stairs and turned back. Trevor stood in front of the giant windows, his back to Poppy, hands on his hips. He stared toward the oncoming storm. She wondered, what thoughts flew through his mind?
Chapter 12
Poppy hated hospitals, but really, aside from doctors and nurses, did anyone like the hospital? There were very few times in any person’s life where being at the hospital indicated impending joy. The elevator doors opened and a wave of that horrible hospital smell hit her nose. What was that? Antiseptic mixed with fear? Panic? Anxiety? Every hospital anywhere in the world that she’d entered had the same scent. Poppy turned and walked down the hall, scanning the numbers on the wall. The woman at the front desk on the first floor had said Therese was in room 1145.
Mimi, in a flowing shirt and a long skirt that stopped at her ankles, stood in the hallway speaking to a white-coated woman with long blonde hair. Poppy stopped at Mimi’s side and the doctor turned toward her.
“My sister,” Mimi said. “Poppy.”
“Ah, yes, Poppy. Your mother speaks of you often. I’m Dr. Ziddle.” The blonde woman held out her hand. She didn’t exactly smile, but her demeanor wasn’t somber. More like a practiced seriousness. “I was telling your sister that with the growth of the tumor, your mother will be in and out of consciousness. We’re looking at palliative care. After the complications of last night, I’m not certain that hospice is advisable.”
A careening sensation, as though the entire building had tilted to the side and she clung from one of the window ledges, rocketed through Poppy’s body. She nodded and did all the normal things that people do when discussing life and death and illness, but her insides were hollow and a thrumming roared in her ears. The words Dr. Ziddle and Mimi spoke … she wasn’t exactly hearing or understanding. She nodded as though everything the doctor said made complete sense, but she understood nothing.
“I’ll check back later today. I have a few other patients to see. It should be around six, if you’re both still here.” Dr. Ziddle turned and nodded to Poppy.
The soft touch of Mimi’s fingertips grazed Poppy’s arm. “Are you okay?”
“Of course I’m okay.” Poppy shrugged. She was trying hard to remind herself that the only reason she’d come to the hospital was to satisfy Mimi’s desire that she find closure. “I’m here for you, not me.” Poppy hitched her purse strap up higher on her shoulder and crossed her arms over her chest.
A cold fury replaced her original shock over the doctor’s words. Mimi had no idea what it meant to be a motherless child. Therese had wanted a relationship with Mimi, and even sought out her eldest daughter once Mimi had her own children. Therese never tried to contact Poppy. She’d never called or emailed or texted or asked to meet with her youngest daughter.
“She’s sleeping. I was in her room before Dr. Ziddle got here. “
“When does Brian get in?”
“This evening. He’s planning on coming straight to the hospital.”
“Great. And Daniel is back from Vancouver?”
Mimi nodded and walked into the room. Poppy’s feet wouldn’t move. Numb from the waist down with a sick feeling churning in her belly, Poppy felt like her feet were stuck to the floor. From where she stood, just inside the doorway, Poppy couldn’t see Therese. The foot of Therese’s hospital bed was visible, but not the top.
“She’s still asleep,” Mimi whispered from the far side of the room.
Poppy willed her feet to move and her legs to go forward and walk into the room. Once inside, she stopped, took a long breath, and turned. Her gaze roamed up over the white hospital blanket to the tiny person in the bed.
This wasn’t the woman Poppy remembered. The beautiful laughing woman with lush black hair and big brown eyes, with a giant forever smile that decorated her few early childhood memories.
No, the tiny creature in the bed could not be described as vibrant or larger than life. Instead she was a misshapen elf, shriveled and old, worn from life and this disease. Her long waterfall of hair was gone. Instead wisps of grey decorated her scalp. A giant scar sliced along her head, where they’d operated once to cut the tumor from Therese’s brain. A success, Mimi had said, until the horrible beast had come back, angrier and more powerful and hidden in recesses of Therese’s brain that were impossible to reach.
Her coloring was no longer the luxurious black that spoke to a mixed island heritage and radiated the warmth of sun and sand and water. Her skin could only be described as grey, much like the clouds that had hung over the Pacific this morning.
“She …” Poppy touched her fingertips to her lips. Fluids in big bags dripped down plastic tubing to the needle that was taped to her parchment-thin skin. A tube ran into her mouth, a machine pushing air in and out of her lungs. “She doesn’t look the same.” Poppy swallowed back the lump that threatened to choke her.
“No.” Mimi walked to the top of the bed and ran her hand across Therese’s forehead. “She doesn’t look the same at all. Not like I remember her.” Mimi’s gaze left Therese and she looked at Poppy. “Do you remember her? I mean, before she left? Before …”
Her words drifted to an end. There was much about that time Poppy didn’t remember, but she did have some memories that she cradled in her recollection as though holding an easily broken crystal in the palm of her hand. A few pictures in her mind that she wasn’t sure were real, or were a collection of photos she had imagined herself into, put together in a quilt-like chi
ldhood fantasy.
“I remember her laugh,” Poppy said. Therese had had a brilliant laugh that made Poppy twirl with delight. “I remember her nearly always having a vodka tonic in the evening. I remember her and Daddy sitting on the back porch and watching us in the yard.”
Mimi nodded. “It was good until it wasn’t.” She removed her hand from Therese’s forehead and walked to the sink. She took a washcloth, wetted it, and wrung out the extra water. She pressed the cloth to Therese’s forehead and gently stroked it across her skin.
“Does she even know we’re here?”
“Dr. Ziddle thinks she knows. Those drugs”—Mimi nodded to the bag of fluids that dripped into Therese—“would put a Clydesdale to sleep. We were talking about cutting them back when Brian got here. Taking her off the ventilator. Thinking maybe she’d want a little bit of lucidity to say good-bye. But she’d be in pain.” Mimi took the washcloth and held it close. Her eyes searched Poppy’s. “She’s in a lot of pain and that isn’t going to change. They thought she was going to die last night, but for whatever reason she pulled through.”
Poppy crossed her arms. So much anger, even with the sadness that whispered around the lump of rage in her belly.
“She didn’t call you because she knew you didn’t want to hear from her.”
Poppy’s gaze whipped away from the shriveled woman in the bed and focused on Mimi. “That’s a coward’s excuse.”
Mimi took a long deep breath. “Right.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.
“What? You seriously think that I should just forgive her? Just ignore the twenty-plus years that she wasn’t a part of my life? That’s what you think I should do?”
“No, Poppy, but I do think you should consider that maybe she did want a relationship with you. Yes, of course her leaving when you were five was abandonment, but did you ever wonder why she left?”
“Because she was selfish and didn’t want to be a mother.”
Mimi opened her mouth to respond, but then her phone rang. She pulled it from her bag and looked at the screen. “Sorry, it’s Daniel. I have to take it.” She walked around Poppy and out into the hall.
