Flowers on Main

by Sherryl Woods

  “Oh, Mick,” she said, her anger melting away. “I had no idea.”

  “That was the whole point. I wanted to surprise you.”

  “Well, if it’s any comfort, you have. I’ll see you in ten minutes.” That would give her barely enough time to clean up her pitiful meal and put on a fresh dash of lipstick.

  “Two minutes,” he corrected. “I started walking the second you picked up the phone.”

  “Oh, my,” she said, clicking off the call without even saying goodbye.

  She’d barely tossed the cold eggs down the garbage disposal and freshened up when the doorman called. “Your husband’s here, Mrs. O’Brien,” Don said, sounding justifiably confused.

  “He’s not my husband anymore,” she said emphatically. “But you can send him up.” She figured if she didn’t correct the impression Mick was trying to make on the man, Mick would be taking all sorts of liberties. Since Don was a seventy-something grandfather of twelve, he, like her friends at the deli, liked to keep tabs on her social life. He found the fact that she didn’t date much to be troubling.

  “A pretty woman like you should have a man courting her,” he said every time she wandered in alone on a Saturday night. The appearance of Mick would reassure him and the next thing she knew, she’d be finding Mick in her apartment when she was least expecting him.

  She was waiting by the door when Mick walked off the elevator, bringing with him the scent of fall in New York—crisp air and roasting chestnuts. He held out a bouquet of bright yellow chrysanthemums, then swept in for a hard, lingering kiss that turned hot, even though his skin was cool from his brisk walk on a chilly November evening.

  “You should have let me know you were coming,” she chided when she’d caught her breath.

  “I thought you liked surprises.”

  “I do, but as you’ve discovered, they can go awry.”

  He looked deep into her eyes. “Were you out with another man tonight, Meggie?” Though he managed to keep his tone light, there was an unmistakable undercurrent of jealousy in his voice.

  “I was,” she said, enjoying the brief flash of possessiveness that darkened his eyes. Still, since she didn’t want to give him the wrong idea, at least not for long given the mistake that had played a role in ending their marriage, she explained, “My boss and I were getting ready for the next show at the gallery.”

  “You were at work,” he said, his relief evident. He studied her with a wicked glint in his eyes. “Tell me, then, were you trying to make me jealous just now?”

  She grinned. “Just trying to see if I was capable of it,” she admitted. “It was pretty satisfying to see that I am.”

  She took his coat and hung it in the closet, then watched as he opened the bottle of champagne with sure hands.

  “Glasses?” he asked.

  “I’ll get them.” She found two wineglasses in the cupboard that would have to do. Since she’d put a stop to Mick’s alimony payments a few years earlier, her budget rarely ran to champagne, so she didn’t own any flutes.

  Mick poured the wine, then lifted his glass to hers.

  “What are we drinking to?” she asked.

  “Our son’s safe return,” he said at once.

  She sipped the champagne, her eyes stinging. “Kevin’s already left for Iraq again?” Though she’d been aware of the time slipping by, she’d really hoped that he wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.

  Mick nodded, his own eyes troubled. “I have to admit, I’m scared for him.”

  Megan moved into his arms and held on. “Me, too.”

  “Did he call you?” Mick asked, drawing her over to the sofa, then settling down with her by his side. “I told him to.”

  She shook her head. “No, I haven’t spoken to him since the weekend I was down there. I even left messages for him with both Nell and Bree, but he never called me back.”

  Mick looked dismayed. “I’m sorry. I thought the two of you might have made some progress in mending fences that weekend.”

  “I wish. After his initial surprised greeting, he was very careful to avoid being alone with me.”

  “Well, there was a lot going on,” Mick said.

  She touched his cheek. “You don’t have to defend him.”

  “You’re his mother. You at least deserve his respect.”

  “I’m sure in his view, I wasn’t much of a mother, not at the end.”

  “Next time will be better,” Mick promised. “When he’s home for good.”

  “Any idea when that will be?”

  Mick shook his head, his gaze suddenly far away.

  “What is it?” she asked him. “You look upset.”

  “I am.”

  “Tell me why.”

  He hesitated, then said with real heat in his voice, “If Georgia has her way, they’ll stay on over there. I admire her dedication, I really do, but I want our boy home.”

  Megan tried to hide her own apprehension. “Don’t put this all on Georgia,” she warned. “Kevin will make the right decision for him when the time comes. We have to trust him on that.”

  “You ever known a man with stars in his eyes to think clearly?” Mick countered.

  “Kevin will,” she said with certainty. “Of all our kids, he was the most grounded, even more cautious and sensible than Abby in some ways. He thought everything through.”

  “And you don’t think this impetuous marriage of his proves that he’s no longer that way?” Mick asked doubtfully.

  “I’m hoping that being married will make him even more careful and thoughtful,” she said, trying to inject a note of conviction in her voice, not just for Mick’s sake, but her own. How would she live with herself if something happened to her son and she’d never made amends with him?

  Mick apparently guessed what she was thinking, because his arm around her tightened. “I didn’t come here to upset you.”

  She looked into his eyes. “Why did you come?”

  “For this,” he murmured, lowering his lips to hers. They were both a little breathless when the kiss finally ended. “If we live to be a hundred, Meggie, I don’t think I’ll ever get my fill of you.”

  Megan wanted that to be true. She really did. Because, as terrifying as it was, the reverse was certainly true enough for her.

  About the best Bree could say for the concert was that it had been loud. Jake actually looked a little stunned by the sound that had practically raised the roof of the basketball arena that had served as the band’s venue.

  Jenny, however, looked as excited as if she’d been given a puppy and a convertible all on Christmas morning. “This was the most amazing thing I’ve ever done in my whole entire life,” she said as they walked back to their car. “It’s my very first live concert. Thank you, Bree.”

  Jake scowled at her with feigned annoyance. “Hey, I was the one who bought the tickets.”

  “Yes, but I know it was Bree’s idea,” Jenny told him. “You’d never think of anything this fantastic, especially if it was happening on a school night.”

  “Hey, give your uncle some of the credit,” Bree said. “The last concert we saw was ten years ago, and it was some neighborhood garage band. He expanded his boundaries tonight.”

  “Well, it was really cool of you to invite me along,” Dillon said. “My folks would never go to something like this. They, like, live in the Dark Ages. They fell into a time warp back when Garth Brooks was still performing.”

  Jake blinked at that. “Garth Brooks performed in the Dark Ages?” he said to Bree in an undertone as he held the passenger door for her.

  “Musically speaking to a teenager, I suppose he did.”

  “Are we old?”

  Bree tucked her arm through his. “Yes, Jake. We’re old.”

  “We’re not even thirty. That’s not old.”

  “Not when you’re living it, but to a kid? Afraid so.”

  “Good grief.”

  “Can we stop for something to eat?” Jenny interrupted to plead.
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  “We ate before we came,” Jake reminded her. “And you guys ate more at the concert.”

  “Teenagers,” Bree reminded him. “Remember the way we were at their age? You, at least, were a bottomless pit.”

  Jake chuckled. “Point taken. Okay, we’ll stop. Burgers? Mexican? What?”

  “Pancakes,” Jenny said at once. “It’ll be after midnight by the time we get to the pancake place right before the turnoff from the highway to home. It’ll be almost like we got to stay out all night.”

  “Now, there’s an image I want stuck in my head,” Jake muttered. Aloud, he said, “Okay, then, pancakes it is.”

  Bree reached over and gave his hand a quick squeeze. “You’re a good uncle.”

  “I’d rather be thought of as a good date.”

  She gave him an impertinent look. “Then you’ll have to ask someone out, won’t you?”

  He laughed. “You still deluding yourself this wasn’t a date, sugar?”

  “You can call it whatever you want to,” she said. “I’m just along for the ride.”

  He met her gaze. “If only that were true.”

  “Not that roller coaster, Jake. The one that was you and me. There’s only one way to get me back on that one and you know what it is.”

  “I have to read the first hundred pages of your manuscript,” he said with an air of resignation.

  “You said you wanted to,” she reminded him. “And now I want you to. Unless, of course, you’re afraid to read it.”

  “Why would I be afraid to read it?” he asked defensively.

  “Because you might find out there are two sides to every story.”

  “Two sides to what story?” Jenny chimed in from the backseat, proving that she’d been eavesdropping all along. It was probably marginally better than the other things she and Dillon could have been doing back there, but Bree still cringed.

  “Nothing,” Jake said tersely.

  “Did you write a book, Bree?” Jenny persisted.

  “I’ve started one,” Bree admitted.

  “Can I read it?”

  “No,” Bree said at once. Jake echoed the sentiment.

  “Why not? Is it about the two of you?”

  “It’s a novel,” Bree said.

  “But it could still be about you guys,” Jenny said. “Please let me see it. Once it’s published, everyone will be reading it. I want to be first, or one of the first anyway.”

  “I’m not sure it will ever be published,” Bree said, drawing a sharp look from Jake. “Getting published is hard.”

  “But you’ve had plays produced, so your writing must be good,” Jenny argued, obviously not giving up. “I’ll bet if you sent it to a publisher, they’d snap it up.”

  “I might not submit it,” Bree admitted.

  This time when Jake glanced her way, his expression was incredulous. “Why not?” he asked.

  “I’ve just been thinking that it hits a little too close to home. I think I had to get all of this down on paper for myself,” she said. “And for you.”

  Jenny started to say something, but Dillon apparently nudged her because she gave an indignant little huff, then asked him, “What was that for?”

  “Because it’s obvious Bree doesn’t want anyone else reading what she’s written. Leave it alone. Some things are just too personal to be shared, you know? Do you show anyone the songs you’ve written?”

  Jenny gave a gasp of unmistakable dismay. “No one’s supposed to know about that.”

  Dillon regarded her calmly. “Exactly my point. Now, back off and leave your uncle and Bree in peace.”

  “Hold on,” Jake said. “You’ve been writing songs, Jenny? Does your mom know?”

  “Nobody knew till big mouth back here blabbed,” she grumbled.

  “Dillon, have you heard any of them?” Jake persisted.

  “She’s good, man. Way better than that junk we heard tonight.”

  Jenny’s face flushed with pleasure, even though she poked him. “Come on. You’re biased. I’m nowhere near as good as those guys. They’re professionals.”

  “Just because a bunch of fools like us paid to see them doesn’t make them talented,” Dillon insisted. “Have you ever actually listened to those lyrics? Half of ’em don’t even make sense. I’m glad we got to go and all, but really, those guys wouldn’t know a real song if it bit ’em in the butt.”

  “Amen to that,” Jake said in a rare moment of unity with Dillon. “And what you’re saying is that Jenny’s lyrics make sense?”

  “They rock,” Dillon confirmed.

  Jake and Bree exchanged a glance.

  “Who knew?” he said in an undertone.

  Bree grinned at his expression. “It’s amazing what you discover when you just hang out with someone, isn’t it?”

  Jake gave her a wry look. “Haven’t I been trying to say that very thing to you for a while now? You’re the one who closed that door.”

  Bree didn’t wilt under his blatant taunt. “And you have the key to unlock it,” she retorted. “Where’d you hide it, Jake? Or did you destroy it?”

  “I know exactly where the manuscript is.”

  “Then the ball’s in your court, isn’t it?” She glanced out the car window. “And there’s the pancake place up ahead. Isn’t that convenient? We can end this discussion for tonight.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” Jake said as he pulled into a parking place by the front door of the brightly lit restaurant. He waited until his niece and Dillon had scrambled out of the backseat before adding, “There are a couple of hours to go before we’re safely home and tucked into our separate beds, Bree. Who knows where the conversational road may lead us.”

  “Not where you’re thinking,” she said fiercely.

  Jake merely grinned. “We’ll see.”

  She frowned as she got out of the car and slammed the door. If she had to, she’d turn the tables and make sure Jenny chaperoned the rest of her evening. If there was one thing she knew with absolute certainty, it was that Jake wouldn’t say a single thing about the past in front of his niece. If Jenny found out that he’d gotten Bree pregnant six years ago, what kind of example would that be setting for his impressionable niece?

  Satisfied that she had a plan, she was halfway to the restaurant door, when Jake caught her elbow. “Don’t even think about trying to maneuver me into taking you home before Jenny. It won’t work.”

  Bree stared into his determined eyes and sighed. She’d just have to figure out something else. She wondered if making a frantic call to Jess to have her sister come rescue her might make her seem just a little too desperate to avoid being alone with Jake. Probably so.

  That didn’t mean she might not try it if she didn’t like the way things went during their after-midnight pancake breakfast.

  Jake figured he’d put the fear of God into Bree, but when push came to shove, he couldn’t follow through and try cross-examining her in the middle of the night. He was too tired for one thing and she was too guarded. He’d have to leave it for another day when they were both at the top of their game.

  He dropped off Dillon, then Jenny before driving to Bree’s house.

  “Good night,” she said, already opening the car door and preparing for a sprint to the house. “Thanks for a great evening.”

  Jake knew what she was up to, but that didn’t stop him from climbing out of the car and coming around to walk with her to the house. As safe as Chesapeake Shores was and as well lit as the O’Brien front porch was, he was too much of a gentleman to take any chances. Besides, there was still that chance he could sneak at least one satisfying kiss that would keep him up the rest of the night.

  At the front door, Bree eyed him warily. “You want to come in for coffee?” she asked without much enthusiasm. It was just an offer well-bred young ladies automatically made.

  “No, thanks.”

  “Then, good night. It was a lovely evening. Jenny is terrific and I liked Dillon better than I expected to.”
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br />   “Don’t let the kid fool you. He’s sneaky.”

  “He’s a hormone-driven teenager. They’re all sneaky.”

  Jake touched her cheek. “So am I, hormone driven, that is, not sneaky.” He paused then admitted, “I want to kiss you, Bree.”

  He heard her breath catch.

  “What’s stopping you?” she asked, a hitch in her voice.

  “We’ve got so many mixed signals between us, I don’t want to make it any worse.”

  “Maybe it won’t make it worse. Maybe it will help to clarify things.”

  “See what I mean,” he said in exasperation. “You tell me in no uncertain terms that you’re off-limits until I’ve followed all these rules—read the manuscript, forgive you, talk things out, whatever. Now you want me to kiss you. Does that make any kind of sense to you?”

  To his shock, she wound her arms around his neck. “Maybe I’m tired of wanting everything to make sense. Maybe the blueberry syrup went to my head. Or maybe I just want this.”

  Jake backed off. “You see, it’s the maybe that worries me. A lot of men have gotten slapped silly for acting on maybe.”

  She laughed. “I see the dilemma. How about this, then?” She sealed her mouth over his, taking away the guesswork.

  Jake waited a split second before giving in to sensation. This—him and Bree together—had once made more sense than anything else in his life. He’d seen their future so clearly—him owning his own landscaping company someday, her writing in a cozy little room he’d build for her, their red-haired children playing on a swing set in their big backyard. In his vision, they’d never tire of being close like this.

  With his hand against her cheek, he looked deep into her eyes and thought he saw at least some of those same memories there. Surely he couldn’t have been a hundred percent wrong back then. Surely she’d wanted what he’d wanted, been at least a little torn about giving it all up to go to Chicago.

  He scooped her into his arms and made his way to a glider, where he sat down with her in his lap. It was pure torture, but here in plain view of Mick or Nell if they happened to wander downstairs, he wouldn’t be tempted to take things too far. He’d go on tasting the blueberries on her lips, remembering the feel of her skin, but prudence would keep his actions in check. Bree certainly wasn’t making any effort to do it.