by Jenna Mindel
“You’re welcome.”
They walked in awkward silence, stopping every so often to let the dogs sniff the ground more thoroughly. Bree kicked herself again for being too afraid to kiss him when the opportunity had presented itself. But then, she had a hunch that kissing Darren might shoot her straight to the moon when she needed to keep her feet firmly planted on the ground.
She glanced at the trees marked with blue paint that guided their steps along a barely discernible trail. The sun’s golden rays danced through the spring-green canopy of leaves. Birdsong echoed louder than the breeze gently swishing through the trees. It was beautiful. A perfect composition of beats and chords.
“Can we stop for a bit?”
Darren nodded. “You okay?”
She nodded. “I’d love to record this.”
He looked at her as if she were crazy. “Record what?”
“The birdsong, for one. It’s so loud.”
“Okay, sure.” He took Mickey from her.
She slipped off her backpack and opened it. Out came a throw blanket and a recording device hooked to her notebook. While she set everything up, she spotted Darren taking a long swig from his water bottle before offering the rest to his dogs. The beagles lapped at the spout.
“I’ve never seen a dog drink directly from a water bottle before.” Bree knelt on the blanket.
Darren shrugged. “They’re used to it. So, what do you have to do here?”
“Just hook up the mic to my notepad and record. Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” But he looked hesitant to sit on the blanket.
Bree shifted to sit cross-legged and patted the empty spot next to her. Mickey took that as an invitation to curl onto her lap. She spread her arms wide and smiled. “See? There’s plenty of room.”
* * *
Okay, this is different.
Darren lay on a small stadium blanket, staring at the sky above. His hands were behind his head, and his jeans-clad legs stretched off the blanket onto the ground. Bree’s legs did, too. She wore shorts and the grass had to itch, but she hadn’t moved.
His dogs made a good barrier, curled between them, sleeping. Darren had never considered the beagles as chaperones, but that’s exactly the role they played today, keeping him from taking Bree into his arms. Keeping him out of trouble.
Bree had been serious about recording nature sounds he gave only a passing thought. She’d stayed quiet, listening while recording. If he’d interpreted the half smile on her face correctly, she savored the dee-dee-hum of chickadees, chattering of red squirrels and squawking calls of crows. Nothing exotic. Simple sounds from basic wildlife were considered music to her ears. Surely she could be happy here.
He heard it, too. The music of nature. For once, instead of listening for movement, for voices or law breakers, he lay still and simply listened. Darren shouldn’t have felt this comfortable next to a woman like her.
Yawning, he rolled onto his side and looked at her. Really looked at her. Bree’s eyes were closed while she stroked Mickey’s ears. The beagle rested his head on her midsection, claiming her as his own.
Darren envied his dog. “So, what are you going to do with the recording?”
She didn’t open her eyes. “Listen to it and be inspired.”
“Inspired?”
Bree sat up and clicked off the recording. She laughed when Mickey readjusted and crawled onto her lap with a contented sigh. “I love this dog.”
“I think the feeling is mutual.” Darren gave Mickey a scratch behind his ears. “So, back to being inspired—how’s that work?”
“I record lots of sounds. I’ve got traffic recorded from outside my apartment. I’ve recorded the waves crashing against the shore at my parents’ cottage and even crickets chirping from the garage. Anything that might spur ideas for notes, or give me a feeling that I can translate into music on paper or my computer.”
“Huh. How much time do you spend between practicing your cello and writing music?”
“Hours and hours.”
“You spend a lot of time alone.” Not unlike his day of patrolling an area alone and then completing reports from the solitude of his dining room table. Alone.
She shrugged. “Well, yeah, but it’s not like I go to a nine-to-five job. Even playing professionally in an orchestra, I worked on my own. We came together to rehearse, but practice is still pretty much a solitary thing, unless I get together with the string section.”
Her world was different than his, but similar in some ways. “Right.”
Her cell phone buzzed, but she ignored it.
“Aren’t you going to check that?”
Bree picked up her phone, glanced at the text and rolled her eyes. “There, checked.”
He chuckled. “Telemarketer?”
“No. A family friend.” She scrunched up her face. “That’s not quite right, either. Philip is a guy I’d been dating until we broke up before I came up north. He wasn’t right for me.”
“What was wrong with him?” Darren didn’t like the idea that she’d had a boyfriend. Up until now he’d thought... He didn’t know what he’d thought.
“According to my parents, he’s perfect, but he didn’t support my decision to accept the music residency, for one thing.”
“So you kicked him to the curb.”
She chuckled. “That’s one way of saying it. Too bad he won’t stay on the curb.”
“What do you mean?” Darren’s voice grew sharp.
“He keeps texting me. He wants to know how I’m doing, as if I’m heartbroken or something.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve known him a long time. His parents and mine are friends.”
He shouldn’t have dug, but something didn’t feel right. “How long were you two dating?”
She looked away. “A couple of years, maybe.”
Darren’s stomach turned. Two years was a long time. Long enough to be considered serious. That guy’s frequent texts meant he wanted her back. Plain and simple. Would Bree take him back? She’d said that her parents wanted them together. That usually pulled weight. A lot of weight.
“We better go.” Darren stood.
Bree looked surprised, then disappointed, but she nodded. “Right. Sure.”
Darren gathered the leashes of both dogs and pulled them off the blanket so Bree could fold it.
She stashed everything in her pack and shifted it onto her back. She reached out her hand. “Want me to take one?”
He wrestled with an odd notion of protecting Mickey from her heartless abandonment and realized that was crazy. Bree didn’t want to go into details about her failed love life any more than he did his. It should have been enough to say that neither of them had worked out.
It wasn’t, though. Darren battled a twisted feeling of déjà vu. He didn’t like another guy vying for Bree’s attention or chasing after her heart.
He handed over the beagle’s leash. “Thanks.”
They walked back in silence.
At the truck, Bree asked, “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
“You seem quiet.”
He needed to get a grip and grabbed the quickest excuse handy. “Thinking about next week’s class. It needs to be good.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“The morels might be plentiful in the woods at my folks’ place, but I want everyone to get enough. Although, there will be a tour of the maple sugar shack. Probably a small jug of syrup, too.”
Bree’s eyes lit up. “Will we see how the sap is made into syrup?”
Darren shook his head. “Just an explanation. The sap is collected at the end of March through the first week of April or so. It doesn’t keep long and has to be boiled down right away.”
“Oh.” She looked disappointed again.
Was she really into all this nature stuff? Or was this a way of reeling him in only to cut him loose when it was time for her to leave? Like she’d cut loose a guy she’d been dating for two years. Darren tried to shake off those thoughts. Bree wasn’t like that. But then, how’d he know? He’d met her only a week and a half ago.
He loaded up his dogs in the backseat and then climbed in behind the wheel. Glancing at Bree sitting pretty in the passenger seat, he needed a swift kick upside his head. Maybe he hadn’t learned his lesson, if he thought he could trust Bree with his heart. He wouldn’t be enough for a girl like her.
* * *
Thanks again for showing me the elk. It was very inspiring.
Bree sent the text to Darren and waited.
He didn’t respond.
She waited a few seconds more. Maybe he was busy. She prayed he was safe, not tracking down some troublemaker that might turn violent.
She set aside her phone and finished drafting a piece she’d started months ago, at a time when she’d felt stuck. Trapped between Philip’s promises and pressure from her parents to get engaged.
God had given her courage then. Courage to see how she’d let everyone else call the shots in her life. Too afraid to step out, she’d settled. Not anymore. Applying for that residency had shifted her thinking and her feelings, too. She wanted more out of life. She wanted fire. Whatever that fire proved to be.
She could easily get burned if she let Darren shift her thinking that they had a future. What would it be like if they had more time to explore the attraction between them? Would they always do these kinds of things, or was he simply showing her a good time as promised before she left?
She felt alive around him. Both comfortable and uncomfortable.
He’d been distant when he drove her home. And she didn’t quite buy his excuse about the upcoming class preoccupying his thoughts. Something had changed in him, and she wished she knew what it was.
Her phone whistled with an incoming text.
She reached for it, hesitated a second or two and then clicked open the message.
You’re welcome.
Darren had replied with the same sort of to-the-point message she’d come to expect. No smiley faces or anything added on like the texts she sent. Maybe she’d imagined something that wasn’t even there. And maybe Tuesday’s class couldn’t come quickly enough. Unless she saw him sooner, like at the Mother’s Day brunch. Closing her eyes, she felt crazy for hoping. Even so, Bree sent a prayer heavenward asking God to guide not only her steps to the future but also her heart. That organ beat to its own tune. One inspired by Darren.
* * *
Sunday morning dawned with warmth and sunshine. Darren had driven to his parents’ house so he could ride into town with them for church. He’d been roped into attending Mother’s Day brunch afterward at the Maple Springs Inn. The place Bree would play. Darren couldn’t believe he was here willingly, walking the streets of his hometown as if it didn’t matter anymore. Maybe it didn’t.
“Thank you for coming. It means a lot to me.” His mom looped her arm through his.
“Couldn’t let the ticket go to waste.” Monica had purchased enough tickets through the chamber of commerce for the whole family to go. As many as were home, anyway. There was no way he could have backed out. Funny thing was, he didn’t want to.
“It’s a good thing you’re not staying away from Maple Springs anymore.” His mom patted his arm. “I’m glad you’re moving on.”
He covered his mom’s hand with his own. He wasn’t sure about that but gave her the peace she sought. He knew his mom had worried about him. “About time, I suppose.”
“To everything there is a season.” His mom gripped his hand and squeezed.
“You’re right. Seasons come and go.” Change was inevitable, but he didn’t have to like those changes.
Darren thought more about his mom’s reference to the book of Ecclesiastes. There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.
He’d been lax in reading his bible for too long, but knew the third chapter of that book pretty well. The simplicity of King Solomon’s wise words had always appealed to him.
One verse that came to mind was a time to weep and a time to laugh. Bree had helped him with that. Showing her around dispelled a lot of the gloom he’d been under. If today brought him face-to-face with his ex-fiancée, he’d have to deal with it.
A time to keep and a time to throw away.
His time with Bree was limited, only a couple more weeks. Instead of fearing it, maybe he should simply enjoy it. Laugh more and worry less.
Entering the Maple Springs Inn, Darren inhaled the smells of good food and rich coffee. He scanned the fancy lobby with its huge fresh floral displays while they waited in line to enter the dining room. A couple of hours spent here wouldn’t kill him. Seeing Raleigh wouldn’t, either. Time to let it go. It was time to throw away the bitterness.
“Whoa, Darren, you’re here.” His brother Matthew carried his wife’s tank of a six-month-old baby.
“So are you. When’d you get in?” His brother worked on a Great Lakes freighter and was typically gone this time of year. He leaned toward his sister-in-law for a quick hug. “Morning, Annie. Happy Mother’s Day.”
“Thanks. Good to see you.” She moved on and gave his parents hugs, too.
“I traded shifts so I could be home for this.” He nodded toward Annie. “Didn’t want to miss her first Mother’s Day.”
The baby reached toward him, so Darren took the kid from his brother and gave him a friendly bounce. He hadn’t seen much of Matthew or Annie since they’d married in February. “Hey, little Jack. What are they feeding you? You’re a load.”
“He eats everything in sight.” Matthew stepped closer. “She’s not here, in case you’re wondering.”
“You’ve been inside?”
“To ask for a couple of tables put together. Zach and Ginger are coming, Cam, Monica, Marcus, Ben and Erin. Mom would want us sitting together.”
“Then I’m glad I came.” It wouldn’t have been good if he’d missed this. Darren would have been the only local sibling to do so had he not agreed to come. His sister Cat was on assignment somewhere, and his little brother Luke was finishing up his college classes downstate. Both good excuses. Darren’s fear of running into his ex-fiancée paled in comparison.
He spotted Bree and openly stared. Dressed in a pretty yellow-print dress with her hair swept up into a swirl at the back of her head, she reminded him of the small yellow trout lilies scattered on the floor of the woods. Sturdy enough to withstand a late snow but too delicate to thrive after being picked. Just like she wouldn’t thrive here without a large orchestra to keep her engaged.
Bree saw him and rushed toward him. Her lips were stained the color of ripe berries and more tempting than ever. “You’re here!”
“I’m here,” he repeated. Holding on to Jack kept Darren from sweeping Bree into his arms.
“And who’s this?” She took the baby’s hand and laughed when he gurgled at her.
“My nephew, Jack.”
Her golden eyes softened into an oddly sappy expression. Even for her.
“What?” he teased.
“Nothing, I—” She looked away. “You’re good with him.”
“And that surprises you?” Just because he growled about summer residents didn’t mean he’d do that to kids. She should see him in action with the area schools. He’d been told his classroom presentations were some of the best.
“Bree.” His mom reached for her hands. “I’m looking forward to hearing you play. This is a perfect Mother’s Day gift, having most of my kids with me.”
Bree’s eyes widened, but she smiled. “Darren said he had
a big family.”
Darren watched, helpless, as his mom introduced her. Every one of his brothers and sisters present looked pointedly at him after hearing her described as Darren’s friend.
The doors to the dining room finally opened, cutting short the conversation.
“Gotta run. See you inside.” Bree gave Jack’s chubby hand another playful shake before taking off to disappear down a hallway.
“Who’s she?” Matthew asked.
“A friend.” Darren shifted the baby to his other arm.
“You sure about that?” Matthew took Jack back as they headed into the dining room.
“I’m not sure of anything anymore.”
Matthew gave him a look of understanding. “Give it time.”
Time was a luxury he didn’t have with Bree.
Their long table had been set up near the windows overlooking the park and Maple Bay. Looking at the public beach with its long stretch of sand and lifeguard chair, Darren recalled the summer that he, his brothers and cousins had owned the raft at the edge of the swimming area.
They’d grappled with a group of cocky teens from Bay Willows who’d tried to take over their space. That tussle for turf dominion had resulted in a lifeguard posted on that raft from then on. Sure, a lifeguard might have been a good idea, but it was a sore reminder that what belonged to the locals didn’t. Not really. He’d resented the influx of summer residents flooding his town ever since that incident.
He glanced at Bree seated in the corner. Sunshine shimmered in her hair. She didn’t take the beauty here for granted. Bree acted more like a guest because, really, that’s what she was. She had no permanent roots here.
Bree focused on her sheet music. The cello she played stood nearly as big as she and rested against her knee. Her movements were confident yet refined. Delicate and pretty. She was younger than the three other women playing smaller stringed instruments. The music dipped and swirled and Bree played with an intensity he could relate to. She loved what she did. Not unlike the passion he had for his job and the woods.
She glanced at him and then focused back on the sheets of paper scattered on the stand in front of her. Bree came from a different world than his, with summer homes and prestigious careers, but she seemed to understand him better than most. Certainly, better than Raleigh ever had.