Herons Landing

by JoAnn Ross

  “I think I’ll go into town,” she told her mother.

  “To the house?” Sarah asked carefully.

  “No. I’m not ready to see Seth. But I miss the baby.”

  “Speaking of whom,” her grandmother, who’d been rolling out cookie dough for the party, said, “I made her something.” She left the room and came back with a pair of white crocheted newborn socks with pink toes and heels, with a row of pink at the top.

  “Oh, these are darling! Kylee and Mai are going to love them.” She embraced Harriet. “Thank you.”

  “It’s good to have a baby in the family again,” her grandmother said. As if just by Brianna’s designation as godmother, Clara had become a Mannion. Having Seth as her godfather would make her yet another link between the Mannions and Harpers. “Not that I’m pushing you to procreate. Just saying.”

  “I wouldn’t hold your breath waiting for me,” Brianna said. Except for yesterday’s discovery of asbestos in a second floor bath that had been remodeled sometime in the sixties, she hadn’t heard a word from Seth. And even the extra cost for the hazmat removal team had been relayed through Quinn.

  As she drove past Blue House Farm and continued toward town, Brianna decided that she’d spent enough time hoping and crying over Seth Harper. The sex, admittedly, was off any scale. But although he’d beat himself up for “using” her, she’d felt claimed. Even owned, but not in a dangerous guy possessive way. What could well be their last time together had been raw alpha male, totally honest and, she couldn’t lie, thrilling.

  Still. Judging from his silence, it was time for her to move on and find someone else. Like the song said, if she couldn’t be with the one she loved, she might as well love the one she was with.

  She’d seen Flynn Farraday out washing a fire truck in the station parking lot a couple weeks ago. He’d been shirtless, and from the way he was ripped, looked capable of carrying an entire family, including the dog, out of a burning house on those wide, manly shoulders. But the only way she could think of to casually meet him would be to set the kitchen on fire while practicing flambéing the bananas Foster recipe she’d found on YouTube. Which would probably end up with Seth doing the repair work. So, scratch the hot fireman.

  Maybe she’d drop into Luca’s and pick up dinner for the family one of these days. While there, she could casually ask if he’d teach her how to make his light and airy Italian strata breakfast recipe. Then, maybe, while rolling out phyllo sheets on the restaurant’s marble pastry counter together, their eyes would meet, bells would chime and little cartoon lovebirds would begin circling their heads. Her imagination wandered to the two of them nuzzling over a plate of spaghetti, like Lady and the Tramp in one of the most romantic movie scenes ever, while their personal couple’s soundtrack played “Bella Notte.”

  “It could happen, right?” she asked herself as she stopped to let a herd of Roosevelt elk cross the road. They could be a perfect couple. Luca was sexy, with that romantic Italian accent and those hooded bedroom eyes. Plus, as a bonus, he cooked. And she ate. “Perfect fit.”

  The elk had finally moved on, and deciding that she was definitely putting Luca into her husband candidates folder, Brianna continued, just in time for a dawdling elk calf to sprint across the road to catch up with his family.

  Acting on impulse, she yanked the wheel and swerved. Right off the road toward the trees.

  * * *

  AFTER WATCHING THE budding young chef and her grandmother leave his house in their newly purchased Rallye Red Civic, Seth drove to the Harborview Cemetery, parked in front of the iron gates and sat there for a long, silent time, his hands draped over the top of the steering wheel.

  The sky overhead was dark and gloomy, forecasting rain, as he climbed out of the truck and made his way past the earlier stone gravestones, many of the names long ago worn away by wind and water, to the newer section. He vaguely remembered some discussion about whether Zoe would be buried among the Robinsons or in the smaller veterans section. It had been her father, he seemed to recall, who’d decided she deserved to be with the vets. Where earlier generations of Robinsons already lay.

  He was surprised that he found his way to Zoe’s grave so easily, since everything about that time after the notification was so fuzzy. Apparently his heart had mapped what his mind had forgotten. Her family had ordered the stone, with her name—Zoe Robinson Harper—and below a line reading simply Loving Daughter. Beloved Wife. American Hero. Which didn’t begin to describe all she’d been, but all those words were true. As he knelt on the damp green grass and ran his fingers over the letters, Seth was vastly grateful that cemetery guidelines established in later years had kept Helen from going all-out grief crazy with weeping angels standing eternal guard. A third line simply listed birth and death dates, revealing a life cut tragically short.

  Someone, either Helen or Sarah, had placed some bright red and yellow tulips in the cup by the marker. He knew they were parrot tulips from Jim Olson’s farm, because Kylee had shown him a picture on her phone of the same ones that she was going to use in her wedding bouquet. He might not remember much about the funeral, but he did remember Zoe and her mother’s argument about his wife’s wedding bouquet. Helen had insisted that peonies were more appropriate than the daisies Zoe had wanted because their cheery yellow faces made her happy. In the end she’d won, of course. Which was why he’d bought the daisies this morning at Blue House Farm’s booth at the farmers market.

  “I miss you,” he said. He plucked at the flower petals, trying to find the words. “I thought I’d die in those days after the officers came to the house. I wanted to die. But I didn’t, though all my feelings, any sense of love, just withered up inside, like they’d died. Because there was no one I wanted to share them with. And then Bri came back, which maybe you already know.

  “If you do, then you’ll know that she brought me back to life. And it’s not that I love you less, Zoe.” He put the daisies into the cup with the tulips. “You’ll always be the first girl, then the first woman I ever loved. But I love Bri now. And I want to spend whatever time we’re lucky enough to have on this earth together.”

  He leaned back on his heels, thinking of how the three of them had always been so intertwined. “Because she was your best friend, and you loved her, too, I’m hoping you’re okay with that.” He touched his fingers to his lips. Then to the stone.

  As he stood up, he felt a little bit of air, like the wafting of invisible feathers against his cheek. It was only a breeze from the water, he assured himself. Or maybe it was more. Maybe it was Zoe, setting him free.

  Whichever, as he walked away, Seth put away the pain and focused on his hope.

  * * *

  HE WAS ON his way, headed out of town, when he passed a tow truck going in the opposite direction. It was bright green, with Easton’s Garage and Towing printed on the doors. On the flatbed was an all-too-familiar car, its front end smashed.

  Seth’s blood chilled. He instantly pulled a U-turn, easily caught up with the truck and laid his hand on the horn. When the driver looked up, he waved. Then, noticing Seth’s hand motion toward the side of the road, pulled over. Both men got out of their vehicles at the same time.

  “Hey, Mannion,” Kenny Easton said. “Thanks for selling that sweet little car. It made my wife feel a lot better not to have her granddaughter walking at night in the city.”

  “What the hell happened?” Seth was in no mood for pleasantries. He gestured toward the truck. “To Brianna Mannion?”

  “Oh.” Kenny took off his Easton’s Garage and Towing trucker hat and ran his hand over his bald head. “Seems she swerved to avoid hitting an elk.”

  “And hit a tree?” Everyone knew hitting an immovable tree could mean death. Then again, so could hitting a long-legged elk. Either way was a crapshoot.

  “No, she slid right through those and ended up in a deep creek wash.”

&n
bsp; “How is she?”

  “I’m not sure. The ambulance had taken her to the hospital before I got there. But from what I was told by the cop on the scene, she was alive and talking.”

  The breath whooshed out of Seth. “Thanks.” He ran back to the car and, ignoring all posted speed limits, went racing back to the hospital. Which had become his least favorite place in Honeymoon Harbor.

  The same woman who’d been at the reception desk when his mother had been brought in looked up from her computer when he raced through the sliding glass doors. Her expression was anything but welcoming, which had him thinking she’d be a huge failure in the hospitality business.

  “Brianna Mannion. She was brought in a little while ago.”

  “She was. But you can’t see her.”

  Remembering how Brianna had finessed the situation after his dad had gone charging in like a bull in a china shop, Seth struggled for calm and opted for a middle ground.

  “She’s my fiancée.” He hoped. “She’d want to see me.”

  “Heard you two had broken up,” the woman returned. “So I’m not real sure about that. But it doesn’t matter because she’s not here any longer.”

  Seth didn’t think his blood could go any colder. But it instantly froze to glacier ice. And he’d have sworn his heart had stopped beating. Do. Not. Pass. Out.

  “She spent the entire time complaining that she was fine, but Flynn Farraday—you probably know him, he’s the fire department EMT—decided that the impact was hard enough she needed to be checked for neck injuries. Like whiplash. So he brought her in, they X-rayed her and then her parents came and got her and took her home.”

  His head cleared, his heart resumed beating, and though his blood was still chilled, a bit of the ice had melted.

  “Thanks.” He leaned over the counter and kissed her on the cheek. Which surprised both of them.

  “You’re welcome,” she said, pressing her fingers to her cheek, which had colored slightly. He’d just reached the door when she called out to him. “You’d better be prepared to grovel,” she said, unknowingly echoing his Dad’s words. “That poor girl’s had a rough week.”

  In large part thanks to him. If he hadn’t broken her heart, she wouldn’t have been out there at the farm in the first place, so she wouldn’t have nearly run into that damn elk and possibly come within inches of dying. Unintended consequences. Life was fucking full of them.

  Which, Seth knew both Zoe and Brianna would say, was no reason to stop living. And loving.

  He was totally prepared to grovel. To get down on a knee. Hell, crawl naked down Water Street if that’s what it took to get Brianna Mannion back.

  * * *

  IT BEGAN TO rain as he drove out to the Mannion farm. A deep, drenching spring rain that was good for the mountain snowpack and was what kept the Pacific Northwest so emerald green, but it had also turned the ground to muck. Which, Seth decided as he passed the blue house that had given Jim Olson’s farm its name, could be a good thing, because if it got too muddy, they might have to delay the planting, which would prevent the entire town from witnessing him groveling. Not that it would’ve stopped him.

  The gate was open to the farm, probably from having expected a crowd for the planting party, although it could be that the Mannions just got tired of having to get in and out of the car in Pacific Northwest weather to open and close it.

  He’d been hoping that Brianna would open the door. Or her mother. Unfortunately, he got her dad, who, although always being known as an easygoing guy, didn’t look all that welcoming.

  “It’s about time you showed up,” he said.

  “Hello, Mr. Mannion,” Seth said. “I just had some things to work out.”

  “And now you have? Worked them out?”

  “He better have,” Quinn’s deep, all-too-familiar voice said from behind John Mannion. Terrific. That was all he needed.

  “I have.” Seth refused to rub his bruised jaw. “I was actually on my way here when I ran into Kenny Easton, who told me about the accident. The woman at the hospital told me she was okay.”

  “Physically,” Quinn said. “You going to make her cry again?”

  “No. I’m going to do my best to convince her that I love her and I’ll never hurt her again.”

  “Oh, you will,” John Mannion said. “Even if you don’t mean to. Marriage isn’t always a smooth road, as you undoubtedly know.”

  “Bri thinks the best of everyone,” Quinn said, folding his arms. As threatening as the gesture might be, it wasn’t as bad as clenched fists. For a former attorney, Quinn had one hell of a left cross. “And she’s always had a damn thing for you.”

  He didn’t make it sound like a positive. “I’m going to prove to her that I’m worth her.”

  “I doubt any father ever believes any man’s good enough for his daughter,” John said mildly. “But my wife’s always insisted that you were going to be my son-in-law, so if you can talk Bri into forgiving you for acting like a jackass, you’ve got my blessing.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “You’re welcome. Although we tried to get her to lie down after the accident, she insisted on helping her mother and grandmother get the barn ready for the planting party. You’ll find her out there.”

  With her dad’s blessing, he had one—make that two, since Quinn hadn’t punched him again—obstacles down. One final, important one to go.

  He found her standing on the stage he’d built at the far end of the barn, up on a ladder again, using a staple gun to put a THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT banner up on the wall. It wasn’t the money the family saved by having volunteers come out and plant. That probably wouldn’t cover the cost of the spread they put out for the planters. It was to show appreciation for the sense of community that had kept their family business thriving all these years.

  With her back turned toward him, and her grandmother busy stacking red plastic cups, Sarah was the first to see him.

  “Brianna, dear,” she said. “You have company.”

  Brianna stiffened. Then looked back over her shoulder. And didn’t say a damn word.

  “Hello, Brianna,” Seth said into the icy stillness. The temperature in the barn felt as if it had dropped at least thirty degrees.

  “Hello, Seth.” Her tone didn’t offer a hint of welcome. But neither was it as angry as the last time they’d been together.

  “Mother,” Sarah said mildly. “Let’s go in and make sure we have enough utensils.”

  “We already counted them this morning,” Harriet said.

  “Then let’s count them again.”

  “Dang it all,” the older woman muttered. “I always miss the good stuff.” She looked up at Brianna, who was still standing on the ladder. “You make him work for it, sweetheart. A woman’s gotta let her man know from the beginning that he’s going to have to do his share in a marriage. We women shouldn’t have to do all the heavy lifting.”

  Brianna’s lips quirked. “Thank you for the advice, Gram,” she said. Her tone was far warmer than the one she’d used on him.

  “She’s right,” Seth said as the two women walked back toward the house, leaving them alone. “Fortunately, I’m good at heavy lifting.”

  “Lumber, tile and stuff,” Brianna agreed with a shrug. “I can always hire men to do that.”

  She wasn’t going to make it easy on him. And why should she? Her father was right. He’d been a jackass. Which was a lot kinder than some of the names Quinn had called him.

  Outside the rain was pounding on the red tin roof he’d put on the restored building.

  Inside, a silence as thick and dense as morning fog rolling in from the harbor filled the barn.

  “I heard about the accident. Are you sure you should be up on a ladder?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, backing down the ladder in question. “And you have an
y right to question what I should be doing, why?”

  “I was wrong.”

  “About what?”

  Nope. Not easy.

  “About all of it. Except the loving part. Because I do love you, Brianna Mannion. I want to marry you. And have children with you, if you’re willing.”

  “What brought about this change of mind? And if it’s because of my stupid accident—”

  “It’s not. I was on the way here when I found out about that. That woman at reception told me you were okay. She also told me to be prepared to grovel.”

  “Groveling might be a nice touch. An explanation would be better.”

  “It’s like I told you. I was afraid of loving anyone after Zoe. Because loving and losing hurt too much.” And wasn’t that an understatement? “But then I fell in love with you.”

  “You said you were falling,” she corrected him.

  “I lied.”

  She arched a brow. And waited.

  “I was going to tell you. I was waiting for the right moment. But then Mom had her heart attack, I watched Dad nearly die, and thought about his father dying of a broken heart the same day his wife had died, and well, I freaked out. You were right. I was a coward. But I loved you so much that I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

  “That’s pretty much what you said after we made love. What I’m waiting for is the change of mind part.”

  “I’ve missed you. Every minute of every day and night. I’ve ached to have you in my life. And yeah, it took time for me to wrap my mind around the idea that things happen that we don’t have any control over. But that I’d rather grab every day of the rest of our lives together, even knowing that I could lose you—”

  “Or vice versa,” she said.

  “Yeah. And you’re braver than me.”