by Cheri Allan
“Because of this Grant guy? He’s gone, Liz. Vamoose. Adios.”
“No. Because... I don’t want to.” She didn’t want to. She hadn’t jumped at the promotion, because she didn’t want it! “All my life, I’ve tried to be what I thought other people wanted me to be. I took what seemed the safe bet. But, I don’t want to bury myself researching Forrester and Gartner anymore. I don’t even want to explain to you what that is. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life pouring over spreadsheets and timelines and watching people’s eyes glaze over when I tell them what I do. It feels like… like I’ve been trying all this time to make everything turn out right instead of trying to be happy. Instead of being real.”
“But, you’re good at it.”
“I’m good at a lot of things.” Liz looked around. “But, I don’t want to be this person anymore, Trish. I’ve buried the part of me that wants to explore and take chances so I could become some person I don’t even recognize. Some person that’s not only run away from her family and the people who cared about her but run away from herself and everything she always dreamed about.
“Do you know I’ve never been to Niagara Falls? How crazy is that? We’re this close compared to most of the world, one of the greatest natural wonders on Earth, and I’ve never been! Or the Grand Canyon. I haven’t seen that either! What have I been doing with my life?”
“Relax. There’s time.”
“No. That’s where you’re wrong. And, I’ve wasted too much of it.”
Liz looked out at the late spring morning. The dew had burned off, and the sun was out, the small, bright green leaves on the trees shimmering in the breeze. It was so different from the dull sliver of street she’d limited herself to for the past six years.
“I need to step off this crazy treadmill I’m on and start over before it’s too late. I want to see Niagara Falls, Trish. I want to try ice skating again.”
“Your butt was black and blue for weeks.”
“I don’t care! I don’t want to miss another ten years of my life! I want to live life without apology. I want to go back—back to when everything was spread out in front of me like a clean page and… and try again.”
A clean page.
Like a page in her scrapbook.
“I want to come home,” she said.
“You are home.”
“Not yet.” A smile pulled at Liz’s lips as she looked at her sister, as the lid to her treasure box burst open with possibilities in her mind. Pandora be damned. “What would you say if I told you I’m thinking of buying the house from Mom and Dad?”
“I’d say your June Cleaver obsession has finally gotten the better of you. Be serious.”
“I am. I want to see it stay in the family.”
Trish sat back in her chair and gaped. “Liz, moving back here isn’t going to fix everything. You’re disappointed, sad, a little confused. Maybe a lot. But, you’ve got a good job in Chicago. You’re crazy if you’re thinking of throwing it all away just because you’re in a funk. Take a vacation. See Niagara Falls. But, don’t jump off the deep end, for cryin’ out loud.”
“Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said? I thought you’d be supportive.”
“I would be if you were talking sense. You’re in a tough spot right now, I get that, but moving back here? That’s crazy. What would you do?”
“I’d get a job. I’m sure there are lots of businesses that could use my skills. Who knows, maybe I can get into staging houses for Valerie’s clients. She seemed impressed with what I did here. I could even take some classes—see if I could get into interior design. I’m not even thirty. It’s not too late.”
“Liz…”
“Maybe then, maybe if I’m here…”
Trish smiled sympathetically. “Liz, moving back isn’t going to fix what happened with Carter. Move on.” She sighed. “As much as you might want to go back, you can’t rewrite the past.”
“I’m not trying to rewrite the past. I’m trying to rewrite my future.”
Trish took another swig of coffee and shook her head. “Whatever you say, June.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
____________________
“DO NOT TELL ME to be understanding, Grams. I’m in no mood to understand a thing.” Carter scowled into his pancakes and stabbed a blueberry with the tine of his fork. He wasn’t particularly thrilled to be rehashing the whole sordid affair again, but he also hadn’t been big on cooking for himself lately. “She was embarrassed by me. Embarrassed by the fact that I wasn’t good enough for her. That’s why she submitted the bid. She was trying to make me into some other guy, some guy who’s up to her level. Well, she can forget it. I’m not proving myself to anyone.”
He was done proving himself. Since the fire, Ted Seamans had apologized and invited Carter back to the department, but it still rankled he’d been so quick to judge in the first place.
Carter shoved his plate away and stalked to the window. He glowered at the drizzle that fell outside. Thank God he was done with the fountain project, because this weather would have put him behind for sure. And, he had Liz to thank for that headache. He’d had to work night and day to get it done in time for the dedication. Thankfully, Rick Mercer had decided he owed Carter and lent him a hand. The kid had fallen in with the wrong crowd and made some stupid choices, but if you could ignore the wise-ass attitude, he was a hard worker. Sure, the kid was a little rough around the edges, but so was Carter in his day.
He turned, the same anger that had fueled him since learning he’d won the damn bid filling him once more. “Do you know she even had the nerve to suggest I have ADHD and might want to consider medication? And counseling?”
Grams stuck her hands on her hips. “Would you stop being pigheaded? First of all, you do have ADHD, we can all see that. If you think it might help, go to a doctor and see what they can do.
“Secondly, look at things from her perspective. Liz has worked hard to make something of herself. She thought she had to be a certain person to be a success. I’m sure it’s hard to let that go. It makes her vulnerable.”
“How about me, huh? How about the guy she’s supposed to—”
“Love?” Grams’ eyes twinkled in that annoyingly knowing way that made Carter wish he were an orphan. Again. “Oh, honey, you have to know if she loves you, she’s going to fight against it harder than anything.”
“You must have early dementia, Grams. That makes no sense.”
She poked her spatula at him. “Don’t you backtalk me. Think about it. If she gets involved with you, it’s like asking her to put aside everything she’s worked to build over the years and jump in feet first. If she’s the woman you say she is, I’d say she doesn’t do impulsive. I do not know why you don’t get this. It was a string of lights, Carter, she didn’t throw an engagement ring back in your face!”
“It’s what they represented.”
“To you they represented you. To her, they represented the part of her she was afraid of. She was scared. Scared of putting herself out there. Scared of getting hurt. Scared of being too in love.”
Love. Ha! He’d happily leave it to the buffoons on Grams’ stupid reality TV show.
Grams wiped her hands on her apron and wrapped her arms around him. He was nearly a foot taller than she, which made him feel a little silly. Still, looking into those eyes, that had held so much compassion over the years, had seen so much, made his chest ache. He’d do anything to get rid of that ache. “I’d never hurt her,” he whispered hoarsely.
Grams pursed her lips, and nodded as she patted his shoulder. “You wouldn’t mean to.”
She put her fingers to his lips to silence him. “I know you’d never physically harm her. She knows that. But that doesn’t mean she’s not scared of what you make her feel.” Grams gave him another quick squeeze then returned to the stove and picked up her spatula. “The question you need to ask yourself is: is love scarier than being alone? Or, is it scarier to lose the one you love because you didn�
�t do everything in your power to be with them?”
Carter’s throat felt thick, and he let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know,” he said.
She glanced at him over her bifocals. “I think you do.”
He bit his lip and looked outside at the rain again and let his mind roll over the memories. Liz and the grease fire. Playing chess. That kiss in Jenny Whitmeyer’s pantry. Liz fighting with the cart on the way out of the hardware store. The look on her face on that first day of tutoring when she took the Twizzler from him and their fingers brushed. The feel of her hair in his hands as he cradled her beneath him on her front lawn, praying to Sweet Jesus and Mary his body would protect her…
His eyes were blurry when he looked at Grams again, his heart thudding deep and heavy in his chest. “I’m just like my mom, aren’t I?”
“Oh, honey, “Grams said, reaching up and wrapping him in a tight hug. The smell of maple syrup enveloped him. “You always were. You always were…”
“I’VE CALLED THIS MEETING, ladies, because my grandson has asked for our help.” Carter fought not to wince as Grams squeezed his hand with wrinkled, arthritic fingers on top of the big farmhouse table.
Maybe this was a bad idea after all, he thought with some trepidation.
Four sets of bifocals peered at him earnestly.
“He does look in bad shape,” tsked Lydia sympathetically. “Haven’t been sleeping well, have you?” For some reason he had the sense this almost delighted her.
“Serves him right for being so hard on my Liz,” Claire sniffed indignantly.
“Now, now. We’re not here to judge. Carter sees now he wasn’t fair to Liz and he wants to make amends. He’s come to us to seek our advice on how to apologize.”
“Apologize?” croaked Carter.
“And win her over,” Grams continued.
“Oh! What fun!” Lydia clapped her hands, silver bangles tinkling excitedly. “Do you love her terribly?”
Carter blinked back at the four eager women. “Do I have to answer that?”
“Yes,” Grams insisted. “We don’t help unless you’re willing to be honest. True love isn’t easy and usually involves a willingness to publicly humiliate yourself, so you need to tell us. Do you love her?”
Carter couldn’t have felt any more on the spot if he were on national TV. He cleared his throat. “Yes.”
He might have said more, but then a floral muumuu was smothering him as Lydia cried her delight into his shoulder. “I knew it! I knew it! The cards don’t lie!” she cried exuberantly before sitting back again and mopping her eyes with a crumpled tissue.
“Moving on,” Claire said with a quelling look for Lydia. “What do you want us to do?”
“I want to surprise her. I have this idea...” He cleared his throat again. “It’s a bit out of the box, so I’d appreciate it if you ladies would keep open minds. But I’ll need help. Can I trust you to be, uh, discreet?”
Four silver heads bobbed eagerly. “Absolutely!” they said in near unison.
Carter chewed his bottom lip then shrugged. Hell, what did he have to lose?
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
____________________
LIZ RESOLUTELY PULLED the zipper shut on her suitcase. It was for the best, she told herself, as she set it next to the bed. Trish was right. She had no business dreaming of making a life in Sugar Falls—no business putting all the trappings of her June Cleaver fantasies into place—until she stopped letting life happen to her and started going after the life she wanted. And, it all started today. She had 36 hours before she had to be back in Chicago. It wasn’t enough time to take away the empty ache in her heart, but it was enough to check one thing off her list.
She turned resolutely toward the door. “No more shying away from life, Eddie. By the end of the year, the ‘Liz Never’ list will be no more.”
Eddie peered at her unblinkingly from the top of the dresser.
Her cell phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Oh, good. Glad I caught you. It’s Aunt Claire. I need you to do me a favor.”
“Actually, I’m leaving town earlier than expected. I was just on my way out—”
“Even better! You can give me a ride to the dedication. It starts at noon. I promised Ruth I’d be there and Trish isn’t answering her phone.”
“What dedication?”
“What do you mean, ‘what dedication’? The fountain! The Sugar Falls Commemorative Fountain! Where have you been?”
“Chicago?”
“Oh. Right. Well, it’s fixed now, and they’re having a re-dedication. Today. At noon. I promised Ruth I’d be there.”
“Aunt Claire. I don’t have a car. I returned it to the rental agency yesterday. My taxi will be here within the hour, and then I’m flying—”
“Perfect timing. You can drop me off on your way through town. I’d drive myself, but I haven’t been hydrating like I should and I had another dizzy spell this morning. If you really don’t want to, I suppose I could try driving...”
Liz blew out a breath. “No. No, I’ll give you a ride. Can you get home again?”
“I’m sure I’ll figure something out. See you in an hour?”
“Sure. See you then.”
Forty-five minutes later, Liz blinked back tears as the taxi pulled out of her driveway. She wouldn’t look back, she told herself. She wouldn’t second-guess herself anymore.
Anyway, it was better this way. She needed to move forward and stop thinking about what might have been. A home wasn’t a place, it was a state of mind, right?
And, Elizabeth Anne Beacon intended to put her house in order.
A faint, bittersweet smile curved her lips as she stared at the passing landscape. Soft-green leaf buds dotted the stark tree limbs. Before long, the branches would grow lush and heavy with summer foliage.
She loved this time of year. Loved the carpet of maple seeds that littered lawns and sidewalks. Loved the musky scent of spring rain, the nighttime melody of peepers as they searched for mates in roadside marshes.
Loved Carter McIntyre.
Oof. It always hit her like that, smack between the eyes when she was thinking about innocuous things like peepers or maple seeds. It was a gentler ache now, the empty space where her heart used to be. More of a hollowness instead of the stabbing pain of fresh rejection. There was nothing to be done about it anyway. Like Trish said, it was over.
Liz swallowed over the thickness in her throat.
She should have trusted her own judgment, should have ignored what everyone else said about him and listened to her heart. But it was too late. Whatever feelings Carter may have had for her had been killed by her own inability to trust and accept herself and take a leap with him.
She’d left him nine messages of apology not including hang-ups. He hadn’t called her back.
Liz reached out to roll down the window. Warm air blew onto her face, a sweet medley of earthy spring fragrances teasing her nostrils. Taking a deep breath, she pursed her lips. Some things were in her control. Some were not.
She glanced at the suitcase on the floor beside her and prepared to open the door for her aunt.
“DON’T ASK,” LIZ WARNED as Aunt Claire eyed her luggage for the umpteenth time since leaving her driveway.
“What makes you think I was going to say anything about the suitcase on the floor? Do I look like the type of woman to stick my nose into my grandniece’s personal affairs? Do I seem like the kind of old lady who’d stoop to being nosy about something like that? To questioning what young people knew about making smart decisions? Do I? Hmm?”
“In a word: Yes.”
“Well, if I’m already tried and convicted... where are you going?”
“Out of town.”
“I see.” Claire lips flattened in disapproval.
Liz hid a smile. “I don’t think you do.”
“I may be old, but I see perfectly. Now that Trish and Russ have decided to your folks’ house, you’re running awa
y again. Just like when you smacked yourself unconscious and had that fight with Carter.”
“I’m not running away! This is different. If you must know, Trish is taking care of Eddie, and I’m going to New York for the weekend.”
“New York? Whatever is in New York?”
“About twenty million people... and Niagara Falls.”
“No.”
Liz sighed again. “You won’t change my mind—”
“I mean ‘no,’ as in technically Niagara Falls is only partly in New York. The rest is in Canada. I saw a program about it on TV last year. Did you know the falls are eroding a foot per year and in 50,000 years they’ll merge into Lake Erie and cease to exist?”
“Oh, look!” Liz interrupted with relief, not wanting to get into a geography lesson which was so not the point at the moment. “Sorry to cut you off, but we’re here. It looks like quite a crowd, so I think I’ll just let you off here by the bank if you don’t mind—”
“You’re not going to walk me to the common?”
“Walk you?”
“What if I have heart palpitations again? I brought a bottle of water with me, but...”
Glancing at her cell to check the time, Liz blew out a quick breath. What was a few more minutes delay in the scheme of things? Asking the driver to wait, she pushed open the side door. “Ten minutes, Aunt Claire. Truly. That’s all I can spare. I’ve got a flight to catch.”
“Fine. Fine. If we just find the other gals, I’ll let you go.”
“Fine.” Liz gripped her aunt’s elbow and pushed forward through the crowd.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
____________________
“I THINK I SEE LYDIA,” Aunt Claire announced as she and Liz pressed through the crowd.
Liz fought the urge to roll her eyes, as this was the third time the elusive Lydia had purportedly been spotted. You’d think a woman who dressed primarily in hideous florals would be easier to find.