Leave a Mark

by Stephanie Fournet

  “Good, good,” he said, clearly satisfied. “We’ll see you then and talk some more.”

  Lee gritted his teeth. “See you, Dad.”

  He hung up before his father could say anything else, squeezing his phone in his fist until his knuckles went white. An unwelcome memory flashed in his mind…

  Lee, at fourteen, quietly seething as he caddied for his father at a golf tournament. As a member of his school’s Outing Club, Lee was supposed to be climbing at Enchanted Rock in Texas that weekend, but Tom had refused to let him go. He’d make better connections for the future, his father told him, on the golf course than “on the side of some mountain.”

  When Tom first told him no, Lee tried to keep calm. The man responded to calm far better than if Lee got emotional. Lee tried to reason with him. He argued that his friends were the sons of those well-connected golfers, and their influence would serve him just as well. This was met with amused condescension, so Lee tried bargaining. E-rock this year; golf tournament next year. His father wouldn’t budge.

  When Lee finally exploded in the middle of their kitchen, vowing that his mother would have been on his side if she were still alive, Thomas Hawthorne turned to ice. His eyes. The line of his mouth. Everything went cold.

  “I can see you’re not mature enough to continue this conversation,” he said, looking down at fourteen-year-old Lee with undisguised disapproval. “And that gives me even more faith in my decision.”

  Control and self-control. Those were the ideals Thomas Hawthorne worshipped. He assumed the former and expected the latter.

  Lee was thirty-one years old now, not fourteen. He could do whatever the hell he wanted. Yet it galled him that his father could make him feel like a boy even now. And, even now, his anger mattered so little.

  He was about to stuff his phone back in his pocket when it chimed.

  Wren: OMG. I just woke up. Agnes is going to be so pissed.

  His anger vanished with an image of her texting him from his bed. He had thirty-four patients to see, and a laboring mother could need him at any second, but he tapped the phone icon on his screen.

  Wren picked up on the first ring.

  “Please tell me you’re still in bed,” he whispered.

  She gave a breathy laugh, and Lee smiled because somehow he knew she still lay under his covers.

  “I’m still in bed,” she admitted sleepily. “I never sleep this late. I think you wore me out.”

  Pride stoked a fire in his chest, and even though she’d worn him out just as well and waking up with his 5:00 alarm had been hell, his strength now returned.

  “Oh, really?” he teased, feeling light enough to float.

  Wren laughed again. “You sound rather pleased with yourself.”

  “I think you’re the one who just admitted to being rather pleased.”

  A scandalized gasp escaped her.

  “Of course, I’d rather please you than do pretty much anything else.” He whispered still, but a sinister edge deepened his voice.

  She was silent, and Lee hoped he hadn’t gone too far. But he wanted her to know what the night meant to him and how he looked forward to more.

  “You’re making it very hard to get out of bed,” she said, finally. The way her voice softened around the words let him know she spoke the truth.

  “Well, why don’t you just stay there,” he coaxed, wishing like hell she would. “Or make some breakfast. Take a bath. Play with Victor…”

  Wren had offered the night before to take the puppy to doggy daycare when she left, but she needn’t bother if she could stay the whole day.

  “I can’t…” He noted that she sounded regretful. Maybe he could change her mind.

  “But I’ll be home in just nine short hours. What time do we need to be at your mamaw’s?” he asked, hoping for some time alone with her.

  “Lee, she’s seventy-eight. She’d eat dinner at 4:00 in front of Jeopardy! if I was game,” Wren said, making him laugh. “We need to be there as soon as possible. Six-thirty at the absolute latest.”

  “I can handle that,” he conceded. “That doesn’t mean you can’t spend the day at my house.”

  “Honestly? I’d love to. It’s a freakin’ cool house, but Agnes is probably about to lose her twisted mind, and the last time she saw me, I was abandoning her in favor of a dog. No telling the revenge she’s plotted.”

  Lee laughed again. “Okay, I get it… Wait—” He frowned, realizing his stupidity. “Wren, how are you going to get home?”

  She had no car. How could he have left her that morning without a way to get home? What had he been thinking? He should have ridden his bike to the hospital and left her the Jeep.

  “I’ll walk, of course. Victor can come with me,” she said, as though this were obvious.

  “What? No, I’ll call you a cab—”

  “Hell, no. I’m not taking the Walk of Shame from a cab. At least if I have a dog on a leash, I’ll just look like I’ve been out for a stroll.”

  “Wren, I can’t let—”

  “Lee, it’s four blocks. I thought that was the plan all along.”

  Lee stumbled to the wall of the corridor and pressed his forehead against it. “I’m such an asshole.”

  Absurdly, this made her giggle. “Why would you say that?”

  “How could I leave you stranded?”

  “I’m not stranded. I’ve got two legs, two feet, and a pair of shoes. Besides,” she said, her voice dipping a little. “It’s not like I’ve never done it before.”

  Only because the guys she’d been with hadn’t taken better care of her. Lee screwed his eyes shut at the realization that he could now count himself among that number.

  “You deserve better,” he muttered. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It is no big deal.” She spoke as if she meant it. “The walk with Victor will do us both good. And maybe he could just stay with me and get to know Agnes today. I can bring him home tonight.”

  Lee allowed himself to breathe. By the sound of it, he’d have the opportunity to make it up to her, to show her that he really was different from the other guys she’d dated. That she could expect more from him.

  Okay. “I’ll pick you up a quarter after six,” he vowed.

  “Nuh-uh. I’ll pick you up a quarter after six. That way, I’ll have a ride home in the morning.”

  Her meaning stunned him silent. “Well, I can’t argue with that.”

  “No, you’d better not,” she said, the smile clear in her voice. “I’ll see you at 6:15.”

  TRUE TO HER word, Wren arrived in her turquoise Mustang at a quarter after six, pulling up to the curb just as Lee got out of his Jeep. Victor sat in the bucket seat next to her, and the sight of the two of them in the classic car lit him up.

  Yeah, that looks pretty good.

  Wren smiled back at him, killed the engine, and stepped out with Victor on his leash. “What are you grinning at?” she asked, crossing the yard toward him, the puppy pulling on his lead to get to Lee.

  “Something I like.”

  She raised an amused brow. This time it sparkled with a tiny, pink gem. “Oh, really?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  Wren stepped closer and raised a hand to reach for him, and, out of habit, Lee stepped back.

  Her look of confusion was immediate. “What?”

  Lee realized his mistake and felt his cheeks color. “I’m sorry. I… I’m just getting back from the hospital,” he said, shaking his head. “Marcelle always wanted me to shower or at least change clothes before I touched her if I was coming from the hospital.”

  Shock flashed on her face. “Wow. That’s… harsh.”

  And then she surprised him by taking another step in his direction, a sly smile coming to her lips. “Your work brings you close to people. So does mine. That doesn’t scare me.”

  Wren grabbed his tie and gently tugged. He bent down and happily met her kiss, taking her sweet face in his hands and trying to keep his smile under control.
<
br />   This is how I want to be welcomed home.

  When she released him, she gave him a little push towards the house. “Now, go change. Mamaw Gigi is already freaked out that I’m bringing a doctor home for dinner,” Wren said, looking half-amused and half-alarmed. “If you walk in wearing an actual tie, she might faint.”

  MAMAW GIGI LIVED on Azalea Street in a white duplex with black shutters. As Lee and Wren mounted the front porch, the savory smells of home-cooking welcomed them through the screen door.

  Wren held onto his hand as she pulled the door open. “Ready?” she whispered. And while she looked anything but ready, Lee wanted to charge ahead.

  “Hell, yes,” he whispered back.

  “Is he here?” A woman called from inside the house, her voice a weathered squeak, and Wren rolled her eyes before pulling him in.

  “He’s here, Mamaw,” Wren droned.

  And then Lee found himself in front of a smiling woman with curling silver hair and thick glasses. She stood two inches shorter than Wren. “This is Lee, Mamaw. Feast your eyes.”

  Wren’s grandmother pushed her bifocals up her nose before offering him her hand. Her smile took up the whole room. “Welcome, welcome, Lee! So glad you could join us. Wren’s never invited a young man to dinner.”

  “Thank you for having me, Mrs. Blanchard,” Lee said, taking her hand. It was easy to offer her a genuine smile. Not just because he felt at home, but because Wren blushed beside him.

  “Oh, please, it’s Gigi. Or Mamaw. All Wren’s friends call me Mamaw,” she said, shaking his hand firmly. “Come sit down. Dinner’s ready.”

  They entered through a small kitchen and stepped straight into 1972. A counter separated the workspace from a dining area with a round table set for three. Floral melamine plates sat on top of yellow vinyl placemats. Lee grinned, eating it up.

  “You sit right there, Lee,” Mamaw Gigi said, pointing to the seat in the middle of the trio. “And, Wrennie, you come get the iced tea.”

  Wrennie?

  Lee locked eyes with Wren and raised a brow. She scowled at him but followed her grandmother into the kitchen. Wren filled their glasses while Mamaw Gigi made three quick trips back and forth to the table. Buttered peas, mashed potatoes, and Salisbury steak in gravy. Lee figured he hadn’t eaten Salisbury steak since before med school, and his mouth watered in anticipation of a simple, homemade meal.

  “This looks amazing, Gigi,” he said with undisguised awe.

  The voltage of Mamaw Gigi’s smile kicked up a few joules. “Well, you just go on and serve yourself, dear.” She passed him the platter of steak patties while Wren rolled her eyes again.

  “Yes, dear,” she teased, batting her lashes. “Please serve yourself.”

  Mamaw Gigi tsked. “Wren, don’t make fun.”

  Lee took the platter from her, and, to make peace, he served Mamaw Gigi and Wren before placing a patty on his own plate.

  “Oh, now you’ve done it,” Wren muttered beside him, reaching for the bowl of peas before helping herself.

  “What a gentleman,” Mamaw Gigi gushed. “Wren, isn’t he such a gentleman?”

  Wren shot a glare across the table at her grandmother. “Yes. He is.”

  “Yes, indeed,” Mamaw said, missing Wren’s look. “Someone raised you right.”

  “Truer words were never spoken,” Wren bit off.

  Her terse words made Lee look closer. The color was coming to her cheeks, but her smile was nowhere in sight. Wren’s shoulders had crept to her ears. He could almost feel the tension emanating from her.

  He’d spent enough time with her to guess at her thoughts. She seemed to have forgotten how hard he’d worked to be by her side, and she somehow still believed she didn’t measure up.

  Lee set down the bowl of peas and grabbed her hand. It was tense in his grip, and she frowned when she looked up at him. Lee kept her hand in his and turned to her grandmother. “Mamaw Gigi, please don’t make a fuss over me,” he asked gently. “I’m crazy about Wren, and I’m lucky to be here. I’m glad to finally meet you, and I want Wren to be happy that I’m here.”

  For a moment, both women stared at him in stunned silence.

  Then Mamaw Gigi burst into startled laughter. “Well, my lands, I guess I was getting carried away. It’s so rare that we have company.” She reached for the bowl of mashed potatoes, then helped herself before passing it across to Wren. Lee felt Wren relax beside him, and he breathed a small sigh of relief.

  “And by rare she means never,” Wren said, sounding more like herself. She squeezed his hand before releasing it to serve the potatoes.

  It was a good sign, but Lee wanted to chase away any of the thoughts he’d read in her looks a moment before.

  And just then, Mamaw Gigi got to her feet. “I forgot the salt and pepper,” she said before darting back to the kitchen.

  Lee stole his moment and took Wren’s hand again.

  She turned to him with a question in her eyes.

  “You’re perfect for me,” he whispered. “In every way.”

  Her eyes softened, and her lips fought a smile before her cheeks turned pink and she looked away.

  “I love it when you blush,” he whispered, dragging a knuckle of his free hand down her cheek.

  Wren snatched his hand and anchored it to the table. “Behave!” she hissed, and even though she spoke with narrowed eyes, she couldn’t quite contain her smile this time.

  Mamaw Gigi returned to the table with a grin, and Lee was pretty sure she hadn’t missed much of the exchange.

  “Alright then…” she said, settling back in beside him.

  Lee was about to dig in when Wren’s grandmother took his right hand, making him jump.

  “…let’s join hands while we say grace.” Mamaw Gigi reached across the table for Wren’s free hand and closed her eyes.

  Lee cut a look at Wren who, now, was trying not to laugh at his expense.

  She squeezed his fingers again and mouthed silently to him, “Close your eyes.”

  Lee closed his eyes. It wasn’t at all what he expected, but it was nice. The Hawthornes hadn’t said grace in more than twenty years, and he would have never guessed that Wren had come from a home that did.

  “Dear Lord,” Mamaw Gigi began, “thank you for this day and this meal. Thank you for every hand that toiled so that we could enjoy it together. Thank you for the guest at our table and the smile he brings to my granddaughter’s face—”

  “Oh, jeez,” Wren whispered beside him.

  “Shh,” he scolded.

  “Sometimes your greatest blessings lie where we least expect them,” Mamaw Gigi continued. “And it’s our job just to open our arms and be grateful…”

  Lee opened his eyes and found Wren staring back at him. It lasted just an instant, but Lee knew then he was staring into the eyes of someone who loved him. The welcome in her look, the pure, sacred joy was for him alone. And he saw it before she slammed her eyes shut, before her fear had its say. And he closed his eyes gently, concentrating on listening to Mamaw Gigi and fighting the urge to pull Wren’s lips to his.

  “…even be grateful when we have lost those dear to us and suffered so much. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.”

  “Amen,” Wren and Lee said together.

  THE MEAL WAS simple and comforting and fantastic. He ate two steaks and three helpings of peas and potatoes. And he might have eaten more, but Mamaw Gigi produced a plate of brownies and a glass of milk, and Lee thought he’d died and gone to heaven.

  After dessert, he insisted on helping to clean up the kitchen, and Mamaw Gigi eventually allowed him. The evening had begun awkwardly, but by the middle of dinner, he felt at home, and he’d been able to see Wren in a new light. She was still sassy — even to her grandmother — but she was also clearly devoted.

  Over the course of the evening, Wren and Mamaw Gigi planned a trip to the grocery store, one to the hairdresser’s, and one to the cardiologist all in the same week. Mamaw Gigi didn’t seem frail or i
nfirm in any way, but she didn’t drive. Wren, it seemed, did most of the driving for her. Lee picked up, too, that Wren paid for the lawn service that took care of Mamaw Gigi’s yard, and she carried Mamaw’s phone on her mobile plan.

  It was a lot, and Lee realized that, as her grandmother aged, Wren would take on even more. And it wouldn’t be easy.

  He knew Wren lived three blocks away from her grandmother — on the second floor of a duplex. And yet, Mamaw Gigi owned a house with a second-floor duplex. As he dried dishes next to the two women, Lee found himself asking the obvious. “Wren, wouldn’t it be easier for you to live in the apartment upstairs? I mean, if you’re here several times a week any—” He halted mid-sentence when Wren’s face blanched and Mamaw Gigi’s eyes widened behind her thick glasses.

  The dessert plate Wren held slipped back into the dishwater with a clank, and Wren stared at it, unseeing. Mamaw Gigi curled an arm around her granddaughter and seemed to brace her.

  “I said something wrong,” he blurted, ice filling his gut. “What did I do?”

  Neither woman looked at him.

  On instinct, Lee stepped closer to Wren. She held up a hand to stop him.

  “What did I do?” he asked again, his heart breaking into a race.

  “Wrennie, would you like to take your guest outside for a breath of fresh air?”

  Wren shook her head. “No… no…” She pulled in a breath and shrugged her grandmother’s arm off her. “…let’s finish up in here first.” She stuck her hands in the dishwater again, but when she brought up the plate to rinse it, Lee saw that her fingers shook.

  Wren wouldn’t meet his gaze when she handed the plate to him. “Stop looking at me like that,” she ordered.

  Lee made himself look away. It was the cowardly thing to do. He wanted to pull her into his arms and demand to know why his question upset her, but fear held him by the throat. Wren was so good at pushing him away, and things had gone so well for the last few days that he dared not press her.

  “What are you talking about?” he asked lightly. “I’m just standing here drying a plate.”

  A weak laugh escaped Wren’s lips, and Mamaw Gigi bit back a smile. At least he’d managed this.