by Barbara Lohr
Trying to settle down, Bryn sipped the root beer. “I never expected you to drive all the way over. I just wanted to talk to someone who understood.” And she waved a hand toward the deck.
“Of course I’d come.” Reaching out, he stopped her. The touch of his hand on her bare arm sent electrical signals through her body, like she’d just stuck a finger in a socket. She glanced down.
Trevor dropped his hand. Eyes dark and thoughtful, he took another sip. “I was glad to come over. After all, you have no one. No one right here, that is.”
Bryn heaved a sigh. “After all the excitement of looking for bridesmaid dresses tonight, I didn’t want to ruin the mood for Josie and Emily. Sure, they would have come, but this was…”
“Right up my alley.”
She nodded. “I was going to say a sensitive subject.”
“Well, that too. But it won't happen again. I’ll make sure of that.”
While she watched in amazement, he crunched the can in one hand.
Bryn giggled. She couldn't help it.
“What?” Opening his fingers, he looked at the crunched can.
“You do that a lot easier now than in sixth grade. Don’t you remember the time we guzzled soda pop, just to see how much we could drink before we got sick?”
Wincing, he shook his head. “I don’t know why we thought that was important. We got so sick. Your mother had a fit.”
“Pop was considered a treat in our house. We wiped out a two-month supply.”
The moon filtered through the branches and the night closed around them. Bryn appreciated air-conditioning as much as the next person, but she could have stayed here all night, going over the past with Trevor.
The glider shook when he stepped out. “Guess I should be going. I’ll put the can in your trash.”
She walked him out to the car. Standing next to the jeep, there was an awkward moment. Trevor was staring down at her, like this was the ER and he wondered if he could send her home alone.
“I think you need a hug,” he finally said as if this were a prescription. “Come here.”
She fit snugly under his arms. “You were my Superman tonight.”
He rested his chin on the top of her head. “Maybe I’d rather be Captain America. He’s the girls’ favorite.”
Standing there with him felt right. His heart beat beneath her palm. Looking up, she saw the surprise she was feeling on his face. What was this?
That question still bothered her as she got ready for bed that night.
“I don’t know what’s going on, Sheldon,” she said to the green bucket on her night stand. “But I sure hope I figure it out.”
***
Driving home, the night was thick as pea soup, as Trevor’s grandmother used to say. Didn’t matter. He needed some air, and Trevor left the windows of the jeep open. But the breeze blowing right on his face couldn’t calm the events of a terrible evening. He tried to settle comfortably in his seat, glad he’d been able to help.
He would have done anything to wipe the pain from Bryn’s face. At least they were able to save some of the eggs. Plenty of mama turtles would meander over the marsh to replace the eggs that had been destroyed. But that wasn’t the point and he knew it.
Bryn’s devotion to her turtles turned him inside out. And so did her gratitude. The only time Delia had ever looked at him like that was when he opened their Nordstrom charge account bill and didn’t say anything about the ridiculous amount due. The twins had been about one at the time. He figured zipping his lip was a tradeoff. His wife had been grateful and manipulative at the same time, asking if he would call his mother so they could all go out for dinner. Although the two of them had been thick as thieves before the wedding, their friendship didn’t last.
He was terrible at choosing women. Maybe being single was a good route for him, not that he would wish his state of affairs on anyone else. He was a guy who loved his test tubes and spreadsheets. The truth was, he was more at ease peering through a microscope than looking into a woman’s eyes. He wanted to change that.
Except when they were sea green. Now that had come easy.
Finally he found the comfort zone in his bucket seat and settled.
Thank goodness Bryn had called him tonight. Friends were the best thing for him right now and she was making her way to the top of the list. Of course, he didn’t have many friends. Work and the girls––that was his life.
Bryn. A friend. The word didn’t sound right, as if he’d mislabeled a specimen. She was more.
Trevor tried to figure this out as he drove home, where he’d have to deal with his mother. No way would she be in bed. Somehow he knew that. Their conversation had just started. It made him weary, knowing that.
He turned on some music and let the blues soothe his worries for the time being.
Sure enough, when he pulled up, the light was on in the family room. At night they only kept a light on in the kitchen, plus the night lights around the house. Now the lights shone in her suite above the garage.
Although he felt a condo might be a better option for her, she would not leave her house. Thank goodness they hadn’t sold it yet, but how to move her back––that was the question. She visited that big hulking house every week or when she got mad at him. Silence had always been her weapon. He was over it.
Pulling into the garage, he felt his contentment vanish. Getting out of the jeep, he opened the back door and went inside.
“Everything all right?” Swathed in her blue robe, his mother stood in the doorway to the family room. “Have you taken care of all that girl's problems?”
The innuendo in her voice wasn’t lost on him. “What are you saying?”
“Don't let that woman fool you, son. Bryn came from that family. We all know what that means. She isn’t suitable for you.”
Suitable. There was that word again. Seething inside, he tossed his keys on the kitchen counter.
“That girl never had anything and she probably never will. Has she been married?” Perhaps she's married now?” Her eyes lit up in a dangerous way. He had to squash this right now.
“She isn't married, Mother. What do you take me for?” Grabbing a glass, he poured himself water from the refrigerator door.
“Why, that girl never had enough money to buy clothes for school.”
“Stop calling Bryn ‘that girl.’ Do we have to go over this again? If Georgina Russell’s mother hadn't gotten involved in it, she would have saved Bryn a humiliating day. It was uncalled for the way Mrs. Russell came to the school and had the principal pull Bryn out of class to ask if she needed any of Georgina’s second-hand clothes.”
The memory of Bryn standing outside the classroom with the principal and Mrs. Russell still burned him. Sometimes he wondered if that was why the Peachums had moved away. For whatever reason, in Asheboro the Peachums had been branded as a charity case.
“Really, Trevor.” His mother tightened her blue robe. “I don’t know why you’re blaming me for that incident. I think Edna was doing a good deed.”
But his mother wasn’t fooling him. “Maybe because she was your bridge partner, as I recall.” Emptying what was left of the water into the sink, Trevor slammed the glass down on the counter and it shattered. His mother gasped. Great. Now he had another mess to clean up. Snapping off some paper towels, he took the trash out from under the sink and swept the fragments into it. While he worked, his mother turned up the collar of her robe and began to inch away.
“You might want to know that she has a respectable business now in Sweetwater Creek. A flower shop. And she's done it all on her own.”
Folding her arms tightly across her chest, his mother settled down a little bit. “I do remember that article about her parents’ accident. Terrible.”
“Yes it certainly was.” But Trevor buttoned his lip. Bryn had been scarred by her parents’ death. As he recalled, her parents had always been sweet with each other. Caring. After being at her house, he’d return home feeling somethin
g was lacking.
When his father had died, his mother’s loss had more to do with the fact that her husband had handled everything. Her personal loss? Trevor had never seen evidence of that, but she kept so much hidden.
The haunted look Bryn carried sometimes? He would do anything to erase it. If he had his way, she would never want for anything again.
What was this? A new way of thinking opened up in his mind, as if he’d found a secret cave, a place he wanted to explore. His mother had disappeared. Trevor sank into a kitchen chair and the measuring tape in his back pocket bit into him. Easing it from his pocket, he snapped it open.
One thing at a time.
Chapter 11
The following week was busy for Bryn. Between working at her shop and dashing home to check for turtle eggs, she was just plain tuckered out by the time Saturday rolled around.
And then there was Sheldon. “You can come out now, Sheldon,” she’d crooned to the tiny shell the first day she carried the green bucket into work. “All the bad critters are gone.”
But Sheldon never poked his head out.
Maybe Trevor was right. Maybe the poor thing was traumatized. Or maybe he hadn’t survived the rough handling he’d gotten. Not a very warm welcome into this world.
Nanny was back on guard duty, scanning the yards and covering any possible nests with wire baskets so the creatures wouldn't get at them. At night, Bryn put a bell from her Christmas ornaments on top of each pot so she’d hear it if an animal tried to get at the eggs. But she heard nothing.
Trevor had been so sweet, texting her every day to make sure she was all right. His support was a comfort because she truly was heartbroken. She took the destruction on her deck personally, which she knew was silly but she couldn’t help it. They had been in her care and she couldn’t wait to see what Trevor was building.
Meanwhile, life went on and so did the cycle of nature. Mama turtles continued to wander across the grass until they found just the right spot for their nest. Seeing that helped ease Bryn’s mind about her recent loss.
The new bouquet from Trevor had been a complete surprise. She’d smiled as she read the message emailed to her by FTD. “Peach roses for a blue lady. Hope you’ll be smiling soon. Trevor.” He knew how deeply she’d cared about the turtles. And that meant the world to her.
The earlier bouquet from Trevor had seen better days. She replaced it with a fresh dozen of velvety roses that filled the shop with their scent. After reading his message for about the tenth time, she transferred it onto a card and tucked it among the flowers. Silly, but she wanted to see the words, along with his name at the end.
When she had a minute, she checked for Malcolm’s texts. All the tents, bedrolls and other camping equipment that appeared in the shots alongside a smiling Malcolm made her glad she hadn’t gone. She would have been miserable. But Malcolm looked so happy. The guy was in his element. When she mentioned her heartbreaking experience with the turtle eggs, Malcolm texted back, saying it was a shame. “That’s nature for you.”
When they walked on Friday, Josie whipped out pictures Malcolm had sent ––shots of him in the canoe or setting up tent. “You got these too, Bryn. Your name was on the list.”
She looked away. “I’ve been so busy.” But she was glad that her friend appreciated the shots.
In the pictures Josie had on her phone, the group was a jumble of muscular arms and tan legs. Most wore baseball caps, shorts and T-shirts. Malcolm’s tan arms were covered with bites. Her skin itched just looking at the pictures. Josie was quiet when Bryn handed back the phone.
That Saturday morning, the shop was quiet. Very few people came in. Spritzing the racks of flowers outside, she almost felt sorry for the flowers. The oppressive heat and glaring sun would have them drooping by noon. Looking up, she considered having an awning put on the shop. But that would be another expense and what if she moved? Running the back of her hand over her brow, she noticed a car parked at the end of the street. The sun glared off its hood. She couldn’t see who was inside.
Bryn was rearranging daisies and black-eyed Susans in the buckets she kept inside when the bell rang and Trevor’s mother entered the shop. A wave of hot, humid air billowed in behind Mrs. Daniels. The door glided shut, leaving an ominous silence. Bryn’s heart began to thump in her chest. She accidentally bent the daisy stem in her hand. What was Trevor’s mother doing here?
Amazing how little Mrs. Daniels had changed. Tall and regal, she still wore her hair swept back in some kind of twist. Her sandy hair that Trevor had inherited was now streaked with gray. The pearl earrings and necklace were a perfect accent to her lilac-colored linen dress. Bryn wouldn't be surprised if she didn't have gloves tucked away in her handbag.
But misgivings churned in her stomach. Surely this couldn't be a random call. After all, the woman lived half an hour away. Bryn rubbed her hands on her apron. Her heart heavy, Bryn approached Trevor’s mother, who was now contemplating the refrigerated case along the wall. “Good morning. Can I help you with anything?”
How Bryn wished she’d worn a different outfit. But no, under her white apron she had on grubby shorts and a T-shirt. Wisps of hair had sprung free from her ponytail.
The smile that Mrs. Daniels offered was icy, as it had been years ago. Bryn shrank.
“Just thought I'd stop by.” The thin lips barely moved. “I'm Trevor's mother.”
“Yes. I know.” If this woman thought Bryn would cower behind the counter, she was so wrong. “I recognized you, although it's been...how many years?”
With a wave of her hand, Mrs. Daniels dismissed her. “I have no idea, my dear. I've been so busy.”
Busy helping with her grandchildren, and Bryn felt so bad for those girls. She felt the chill of those icy blue eyes right through to her backbone.
“So I hear you’ve been having trouble at your house?”
Bryn wondered what Trevor had told her. “Do you mean my turtles?”
“Yes, the turtles.” Her frown indicated she wasn’t quite sure.
She was searching for details. Obviously either Trevor hadn't given her any or maybe she’d forgotten. Bryn’s discomfort grew. “Trevor’s been a big help.”
“He has so many duties.” Mrs. Daniels shook her head as if the weight of the world rested on Trevor’s shoulders.
In uncharted waters, Bryn didn’t know what to say. Was Mrs. Daniels talking about his work or the twins? She knew very little about his research in the lab. “Raising two children alone must be very difficult.”
Mrs. Daniels bristled. “Trevor is most certainly not alone. As always, I’m providing support.” With that, Trevor's mother broke away and began to wander around the shop looking at a potted pansy here and a group of daisies there until she circled back to the counter where the green bucket sat next to the vase of peach roses.
Not knowing what to say, Bryn organized her seed packets. Beans on the top all the way to zinnias at the bottom. Forget separating vegetables from flowers. How could she talk to this woman? Where would Trevor and the twins be without his mother’s support? No way did she want to strain their relationship. Squishing the cosmos packets into the spinning rack, she crushed them. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Mrs. Daniels stop her wandering at the counter. Oh mercy. She was staring straight at the vase holding Trevor’s beautiful flowers.
Why had she left the card there? Bryn felt a painful twisting inside. She’d wanted to look at that card while she worked. The words helped her remember how she’d felt in his arms that night. The comfort she’d found there.
It wasn’t just the sweeping up and reorganizing that had meant so much to Bryn. No, what mattered was that he totally got what those turtle eggs meant to her. He shared her pain. Inching toward Trevor’s mother, Bryn felt a deep anger boil up as Mrs. Daniels plucked the card from the flowers and gave it a studied glance. The only sound in the room was the whirr of the overhead fan.
Her heels squeaked when Trevor’s mother pivoted in her heel
s. “As his mother it’s my duty to do whatever I can to further his career, despite the challenges that have been thrown in his path.” Her voice was trembling.
Bryn’s heart thumped faster. Hadn't his mother encouraged his match with Delia? Had she made him happy? But no way was Bryn going to mention that. How she wished someone would walk in now. She didn’t know what to do. What to say.
Mrs. Daniels wasn’t finished. “While Trevor was growing up, my husband and I talked a lot about our son's future. Eventually, he threw away what could have been a promising career in medicine.” Here she shrugged as if Trevor had missed the opportunity of a lifetime. “After my husband’s death, it was all up to me.”
Bryn could almost feel her beautiful flowers drooping. But Mrs. Daniels kept her head high. This woman was a force. “Although Trevor persisted in taking a different course, he at least is now head of his department. That’s a distinct honor, you know.” She slid her gaze to Bryn, as if expecting agreement.
But Bryn didn’t know. Trevor had never told her that he was in charge of a department. She imagined that was quite a responsibility.
Hope and determination filled the room as Trevor’s mother stared off into the distance, somewhere above Bryn’s head. “One day, my son could be an administrator in the Environmental Protection Agency.”
Bryn felt crushed by the weight of that dream. “Oh, my,” she murmured. “Sounds wonderful. Very important.” Of course he’d never mentioned that to her, probably knowing she couldn’t understand.
Eyes shining, Mrs. Daniels plowed on. Bryn felt sorry for her. Trevor and the girls were all she had left. Of course she wanted the best for them. “The right partner would be a tremendous asset. A woman of high intelligence and academic degrees to communicate successfully with his peers.”
The zucchini seeds Bryn had been mangling fell to the floor. The future Mrs. Daniels was picturing for Trevor was everything she was not. But his mother had this all wrong. She couldn't really blame Cornelia Daniels for coming in to set things straight. If that’s what Trevor wanted, well then, of course Bryn wanted that for him too.