Caribbean Crossroads

by Connie E Sokol

  They exchanged good-byes and hung up. Megan sat on the edge of the bed, tapping the cell phone on her chest, staring into space and processing the conversation. A spectacular opportunity. Unbelievable. Doing something she’d love to do, with good people, in an incredible environment. And being paid an excellent wage to do it. A dream come true. Why wasn’t she jumping at the chance? Why hadn’t she already said yes, a resounding yes, right then?

  And Bryant in the deal, too? Megan’s mind jumped to images, the two of them spending time helping others, being together on the ship, on the shores. But, she pulled back to reality. He was just getting settled here—his dad, his family. Would he leave again so soon?

  A knock on the door, and Bryant poked his head in. “What’s this, checking out my private life?”

  Megan smiled, surprised that he was talking to her. She quickly surveyed the room. “Very telling, I must say. Bryant with a basketball. Bryant with a tennis racket. Bryant at the Sweetheart Ball, draped by yet another lovely lady.”

  He rolled his eyes, walked over and sat on the floor across from her with his back against the wall. But even with the grimace, he looked different—softened, as if tentatively extending an olive branch of some kind. But why, she had no idea.

  He looked at the cell phone she held close to her. “Talking to one of your adoring fans?”

  “Only over 60.” She said it slowly, carefully, reading his expression.

  His eyebrows furrowed, then lifted in understanding. “Mrs. V?”

  Megan numbly affirmed. Bryant’s eyes narrowed, as if he knew something was coming that he didn’t want to know.

  “She’s offered me a job.” It came out flat, like a bad cold.

  Bryant nodded slowly, then automatically grabbed an old basketball on the floor next to the dresser and tossed it between his hands.

  “A good one?”

  “Amazing.” She watched his reaction, a consternation that clouded his face. “But it gets even better. She offered you one, too.” His eyebrows went up. “It seems your translation skills are needed.”

  “Seriously?” His eyes processed the possibilities and she could almost read them—spend time together, work with people who needed help. But the yard, his family. That math problem look pervaded as he absently tossed the basketball. He conspicuously didn’t ask the myriad questions she knew he had—would they work on the same ship, could they work together if she still was in relationship limbo, would it be as unreal a future for them this time as it seemed last time?

  “When would we start?” His voice sounded far away.

  “End of October.”

  He nodded. Six weeks. She knew it was going through both their minds.

  ***

  Later that night, Megan lay in Piper’s old bedroom, next door to Bryant’s old room. Curled up on the bed against the wall, she stared across at the three girl cousins, now asleep in sleeping bags on the floor. Smiling at their contentment, Megan rolled over to face the wall. She wished she could sleep that easily. Reaching up, she touched the bumpy orange-peel white paint, realizing this wall connected to Bryant’s old room, who at the moment was also sharing his space with several boy cousins in their sleeping bags. About 1:00 a.m., she could tell from the lack of noise that the boys had finally dropped off. But in her soul she knew two people were wide awake, with only a wall separating them.

  It used to be two states, Megan thought. It might as well be. He had said nothing about the job offer, not one word. And she had no idea where he stood with her for the future, except that he had started to thaw somewhat, at least to be cordial.

  Should she take the job? Mrs. V. had said it was a two-year minimum commitment. If she didn’t take the job, it would put clear pressure on Bryant, i.e. “I’m giving up this amazing opportunity to hopefully have something work out with you here, in two different states. Even though I’ve said I’m not ready yet and have been completely horrid to you.” And, as her mother was sure to say, she’d miss out on a once-in-a-lifetime tailor-made opportunity, never mind a great financial situation.

  But if she did take it, and Bryant did too, it would say “I want to keep our relationship possibility open even if it hurts you to be with me while I figure it out.” If she took the job and Bryant didn’t, it would send a different signal—“I’m leaving for two years and we’re done, for good.”

  Ping, pong, her thoughts and emotions went back and forth.

  The ticking of the dresser clock showed 2:15 a.m. Megan groaned. When would this all be over and she could just be?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Megan raked more leaves from the corner of Piper’s small front yard.

  “How about you finish over there, Jakey?” she said. The five-year-old had his miniature-sized rake and had spent at least 15 minutes on the same spot, taking time to examine certain leaves, trip over the rake, and track the movements of an unwitting slug.

  Megan stood with her rake and smiled. For the past few days, she had spent most of her time with Jakey and Sarah, making meals and keeping their home tidy. With the two little ones, that had proved to be an almost full-time job. But she also had weeded the front yard, with “helpers,” and made herself indispensable to the point that Piper had already asked her to stay on for salary. Megan had laughed at the suggestion but felt warmed by the praise.

  She would really miss this little guy. And Sarah. And Piper. And—she frowned. I’m not here for him, or for us. Since talking in his room, she and Bryant had shared only a few superficial conversations, though she’d seen him frequently enough—he was in the house right now, saying he had to talk over some accounting things with Piper.

  Over the past few days he’d still been cool, though not as angry. More as if processing. Megan wasn’t sure but it felt like he was weighing things—her, the job offer, the yard. She yearned to talk with him about it, the possibilities, but didn’t want to open up any wounds. She had promised this visit was about serving the family, not about them. But she could feel his struggle, too. Several times in the middle of a typical interchange his expression had shifted and the pause in the conversation made her think he was going to share something. But he didn’t.

  Megan knew either way, it didn’t matter, as her time was coming to a close here. His father was doing incredibly well, better than the doctors had hoped. One nurse said it was because he was a fighter. Another nurse said that was code for crotchety. As the weekend approached, most of the family had left and returned to their lives knowing their dad was in good hands. The yard seemed to be running well. Bryant was a natural, Piper said, who seemed happier and with better energy, laughing more often and sporting color in her cheeks. There was no reason for her to stay longer.

  ***

  “Sounds like the yard is good,” said Piper, easing herself down on the couch. “How about you? Made any decisions?”

  Bryant gazed out the big front window watching Megan rake the leaves and talk with Jakey. “Yes and no.”

  “Tell me about no.”

  Bryant turned his head, grimacing at the word play. “She got a job offer, an excellent one, for both of us actually. But for her more of a dream job of a lifetime. I can’t stand in the way of that, not when she’s already told me she’s not ready for anything more relationship-wise, with me at least.”

  “But she’s here.”

  “Because she’s like that. She helps people. I can’t take this any other way just because I want to. Sitting in her office, clear as crystal, she told me where she stood. She needs time and doesn’t know how long. And I have to respect it.” He swallowed. “I’ve thought about it twenty different ways. I know the best decision for me, and for her, and I don’t like it. But any way I look at it, it’s the right thing to do.”

  Piper nodded slowly, understanding. “Have you told Megan? She leaves tomorrow.”

  “No. Not yet.”

  “How is she doing?”

  Bryant turned back, watching Megan laugh at something Jakey said, helping him s
coop leaves into a garbage bag. “Don’t know. I haven’t seen much of her.”

  “Yeah, I noticed,” she said. “Not much, except stopping by my house all the time, and looking out this window, and always being where she generally is.”

  He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You cannot be trusted, sis.”

  “Wanna tell me why you’re pretending you don’t care?”

  “Because she needs a good kick in the pants.”

  “Charming.”

  “It’s better than what I originally wanted to say.”

  “Which is?”

  Bryant squinted from the natural light, folding his arms tightly. “Because I can’t stand to be without her. But I can’t let her know. She has to make her own decision, without me in the way.” He shrugged. “Besides, a little humble pie has been good for her.”

  “I see, so helping me hasn’t been one of her favorite things?”

  “No, not that. She’s jerked me around so much it’s good she gets a taste of it. Not that I blame her completely.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  He looked down at his confused sister, wondering how much to share. She patted the couch next to her and he sat, pausing then rubbing her feet while he relayed all Megan had told him about Jackson.

  Piper stared at him. “And you’ve put her through this over the past week? I thought we taught you better.” She removed her feet. “Megan can’t control being scared. And that’s how she sounds—hurt and scared, nothing personal. Do you understand she’s cooking and cleaning, like she used to for Jackson, and now she’s doing it for you? Sure she’s at my house, but you know exactly what this is, an apology, prostrate on the ground, for something she can’t fix yet. Can you imagine how that must feel to her?”

  He stood up—restless, angry—looking at Megan outside. “You think it’s been easy for me to stand by and watch? Wanting to help, to make it easy for her? To hold her and I can’t.”

  “And that’s your sacrifice?”

  “Yes, and it feels right,” he said, turning away from the window. “And I’ll be glad when it’s done.”

  ***

  In the early morning quiet, Megan stole out of her bedroom, inching the door closed. She had made the bed, tidied the room, and written a thank you note for the Johnsons. Good-byes to everyone had already been said last night. She tiptoed down to the creamy white and blue kitchen.

  Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, she saw Bryant through the barely open French doors leading to the back deck. She debated. Her idea had been to leave without a good-bye, no anger or tears, and let things be as they were. Apparently Bryant had other plans.

  Walking through the open doorway onto the deck, the soft morning light blanketed the small English cottage-type backyard. Every corner teemed with foliage and pastel flowers interrupted with curving primrose paths all supervised around the perimeter by tall pines. It was an atypical amalgamation, but somehow it worked. Megan took in the postcard picture, pulling her hoodie closer. Though warm for the September morning, she felt a chill inside.

  Bryant turned at hearing her footfall. “Leaving early?”

  “Thought so, I—” She had been about to say couldn’t sleep but only said, “Couldn’t waste this kind of morning.” Which was true.

  He stood up and gave her his chair, then sat one leg on the corner of the large wooden picnic table, his arms folded. Megan sat down, both of them staring out at the garden—golden light filtering through the variegated leaves, the cobblestone paths, and old stone fountains now still.

  For a few minutes they enjoyed the garden silence.

  “My mom and sister appreciate all you’ve done,” Bryant said.

  “It’s not been much.”

  “And with Jakey,” he said, as if he hadn’t heard her. “I think especially with Jakey.”

  Megan smiled. “He is so like my brothers.” Thinking it sounded too personal but not knowing what else to say, she crossed her legs and looked out at the lush landscape. When had it become so hard to talk to each other? Probably since they got the job offer. And she had told him to leave Nevada. And made him pass all kinds of ridiculous made-up tests that now made her cringe.

  A bluebird chirped from the lonely copse of Aspens. A tension began to fill the small space between them, a humming kind of feeling that seemed to suddenly crackle. She could feel something coming and began searching for a way out.

  “It’s gonna be hot today,” he said.

  “I know. I should really get a head start,” she said, and rose to leave. He sat where he was but reached out one arm to the side to stop her. “Just a minute.”

  She paused, and turned her face to him, not moving closer. Gently, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. She leaned into his chest, looking out at the intricate garden. Where did they go from here? It was all winding paths and forks in the road, and she desperately needed to know which one to take.

  He paused then said in a slow clear voice, “I’m at the yard now.” He dipped toward her head. “For good.”

  Like a punctured ball, her insides folded into one another. Megan knew what he meant. He’d made his decision. And ironically, it was the stable choice she had originally wanted. Before Mrs. V.’s job offer. He was saying she could do whatever she liked, take whatever job was offered, he wouldn’t stand in her way. But he wouldn’t wait around for two years while she figured things out either.

  Of course not. Now she had to choose for herself—be that freedom-fighting Megan taking the new road without letting a guy determine her life, or work through her emotional stuff in small-town USA and hope in the process she could ultimately keep Bryant.

  Either way, time had officially run out for her. The tears were expected—though she’d never let him see—but the squeezing sensation in her lungs surprised her. She focused on breathing normally.

  It occurred to her that he was waiting for a reply.

  “I understand,” she said. But she didn’t. Not any of it. Not him, not what he said, how she felt or why she couldn’t throw her arms around him and never leave.

  They stood in silence for a moment. Nestled close to her hair she felt him nod, curt and final. Still they stood, neither opting to go. The same bird called to its mate, a lonely, mourning kind of sound. It didn’t fit with the shimmering sunlight and evergreen branches.

  He kissed the top of her head. The squeezing in her lungs became unbearable. Disengaging, she turned and walked robot-like, picking up her travel bag, focusing on the door, then the front stoop, then her car. Like a dream, she pulled out of the driveway, ignoring the image from the corner of her eye—of Bryant now standing on the stairs, watching her go.

  ***

  Six weeks.

  Leaning back in the old office chair, Bryant looked out the west office window but without seeing. He knew that wasn't much time to decide what to do about Megan McCormick. Six weeks and she'd be gone. Mrs. V. had said it was a two-year commitment. Either he let her go fulfill her dream, or he did what he really wanted to do—drive up and drag her back like a sheik claiming his harem prize. That seemed to be the only thing that could work with her.

  Bryant tossed a miniature hard basketball onto a matching miniature backboard hanging on the trailer wall by the window. It bounced back to him. He bounced it several times on the same worn spot and each time it came back. He surveyed the busy yard. Same old yard, same old day. Same old problem with Megan. And no real solution in sight. Yes, he could go and stand in her apartment and beg her to be with him. But he was sick of begging. If she wasn't ready, she wasn't ready. And all the pleading in the world wouldn't change that. He had to face the truth: this was out of his control and there was nothing he could do about it but wait or move on.

  Neither option looked good.

  Bryant swung around, staring at the dust-covered office. “Command Central” Megan had called it. He laughed, a short, deprecating one. The “office” had been a double-wide trailer, which
had been added onto and make-shifted into an office space. His dad hated to spend money. “Why build a new office when this one works just fine?” Except in winter, when the heater malfunctioned. Or summer, when the fan blew nothing but hot air.

  The whining sound of buzzing saws and men hollering back and forth came to him through the closed window. He heard the beep of the forklift as it backed up to load another order of lumber. Bryant put hands behind his head, thinking about the years of working in this same office—since he was five. He could remember running in and his dad saying, “Get a hard hat on son, this ain’t no play-place here.” And Ross, with his big belly even way back then overhanging suspender-held Wranglers—always Wranglers. And his worn out cowboy boots, and his kicking off the dirt by smacking the stair tread every time he entered. Ross had a year, maybe two left, especially after his double bypass. Already it was hard for him to work part-time.

  Bryant shook his head. Whichever way he sliced it, this yard was part of his future, like it or not. Now it was time to accept it. Still no major solution had come from the sky, though he’d been looking. If only something pulled him, made sense to him, something that said yes, this is what I should do with my life.

  Megan.

  Surprising him came the clear picture of her sitting by the lake, laughing about their childhoods. Megan sitting on his lap at her office, eyes wide and childlike, telling him she couldn’t go. Megan pulling the sliver from Jakey’s hand, talking to him sweetly, right over there on that desk. Megan standing in his arms on the deck, leaving. Always Megan. Always leaving. Why did she resist so much? Why did he care so much? There were a hundred girls who showed interest. Well, not a hundred, but more than her, and more predictable, that was for sure. She was like the late summer sky—warm and inviting one minute, crackling thunder and lightning the next. Who needed this kind of stress?

  He shook his head. Where did he go with either choice? He didn’t want to work at the yard, but that’s where fate pushed him. He wanted Megan but she and fate actively pushed him back.