by Laura Brown
“Keep me updated.”
“I will.” Through text.
I hung up and held the phone in my lap, transferring the device between my hands as a gaping wound bled in my chest. The home question had apparently been solved on every front. I was there.
Two tears fell and I swiped them away. I stood and paced in a circle, working at shoving my emotions into a tiny box. I’d deal with this when I was alone. My parents had enough going on.
When I felt almost in control, I made my way back to Mom’s room. She would be transferred out of emergency soon, now that we knew what was going on.
Of course, she took one look at me and held out her hand. “What happened?”
That was all it took. I broke down into tears and curled into her side like a teenager with her first broken heart. And unlike my teenage self, my heart truly felt broken. Split in two. The kind of split that would never fully heal. There would always be a scar, internal but there.
“What did that boy do?” Mom asked as I calmed down.
I picked up my head and wiped my eyes.
My father handed me a tissue. “It wasn’t going to work out anyway.”
My parents exchanged a look as I blew my nose and washed my hands.
I forced a smile on my face and almost believed it. “So, what’s the first thing you’re going to eat after that nasty gallbladder is removed?”
*
Two days later, I helped Mom into the house. Her movements were slow, and she still had a lot of pain, but her pesky gallbladder was gone.
“Oh, I feel like an old lady,” Mom said as I helped her up the inside stairs to the second floor where her bedroom was.
“You are old,” I said.
Mom gave a short chuckle. “Don’t make me laugh, kid, it hurts.”
We got her up the stairs and she settled gingerly into bed. “Oh, oh this is nice, not like that hospital bed with all the beeping. I should shower.”
I pulled a blanket over her. “Later, rest first.”
Mom nodded. “I think I’ll take a nap where I know no one will wake me.”
I kissed her cheek, beyond grateful she would be okay, and made my way downstairs. I had gone shopping the day before and Dad was out getting Mom’s medications. It was time to bake.
I expected to fall right into the glory of baking, but my thoughts strayed to the bakery. I wondered how Hannah was doing, if things had continued to get swamped or if they were manageable. I pulled out my phone but didn’t send a message. What would I do if they needed help? My mother did too.
I made three things at once, because I had too much thinking time. Dad came in at some point, but I barely noticed. I was so intent on shutting out everything but the food and my actions. No outside noises. No inside thoughts or emotions. Just me and the food.
“What have you done to my clean kitchen?”
I started at Mom’s voice. She stood at the opening of the kitchen, dressed in pajamas and a housecoat, leaning against the wall. I blinked out of my haze and took in the kitchen. Flour stains and a pile of dishes were out. It didn’t look too abnormal.
“It’s been a long time since you took over my kitchen like this.” Mom moved in slow steps and gently sat at the table.
I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. “You know I’ll clean it up.”
The timer dinged and I went to the oven, taking out the tray and setting it to cool. I put the next batch in, reset the controls, and stood back. The only thing left to do was clean.
“You ready to talk now?” Mom asked.
Nope. I picked up a rugelach, made sure it wasn’t too hot, and placed it on a napkin in front of Mom.
“You made me rugelach?”
“Yup.” Outside of Nell’s. Not for Nell’s.
Mom took a tentative bite, then leaned back, a look of pleasure moving over her face. “Oh, this is good. Better than I ever remember Nell’s being.”
I grinned. “I tweaked the recipe.”
Mom nodded. “Of course you did. The question is, to use for yourself or for your bakery?”
I grabbed my own rugelach and joined her at the table. “I don’t know.”
Mom wiped the crumbs off her hands. “That, my darling, is a lie. What are you afraid of?”
I stared at my half-eaten treat and wondered if it didn’t need a touch more sugar. “This is my home.”
“Is it?”
Her dark eyes implored me to be honest. I couldn’t go there, not yet. “You need me here.”
“I have your father and a relatively easy recovery.”
I tore a corner of the pastry and popped it in my mouth. The sweetness tasted of betrayal, one that had nothing to do with the sugar balance. “This was the final recipe Erik wanted before we opened. Either I betray Nell, Hannah, and Jake by taking it with me, or I betray Erik by giving up on his dream, our dream.”
Mom reached out and placed a hand over mine. “His dream. Not yours. You wanted the atmosphere, the creative freedom that he provided. He wanted to call the shots and provide the business sense. If you carry through with it, you’ll make yourself miserable. Plus, you can either betray one person, someone who’s dead, or three people who live and you care for deeply.”
I blinked, my eyes threatening to well over. “What about you?”
“I’m here and will always be here for you. It’s time to figure out your own dream. Not Erik’s, not Jake’s, and certainly not mine. What does Avery want?” Mom stood. “I should go back upstairs. Can you get my pain meds?”
I did as I was told, helping her back into bed. Dad was working on his computer. Maybe they could have handled things themselves, but for now, I was needed, and I’d take that time to figure out what I truly wanted.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Jake
I draped the cape around my father’s neck. “You sure about this?”
He nodded, weary eyes staying on his image in the mirror. “You all look so nice at the bakery. I’m sure I stick out like a sore thumb.”
He did, but that didn’t bother me. For once, that had nothing to do with wanting the man’s appearance to reflect all the pain he’d caused. “You trust me with your hair?”
Now those eyes found my reflection, not even trying to hide the hurt. “I damaged your leg. There isn’t a thing you can do to my hair to make us even.”
A blowtorch came to mind, but I wasn’t a vindictive bastard. Revenge was the last thing either of us needed. Yet the kid inside me wanted to please him, to make him happy and proud. I didn’t know if he banked on that or if he truly put himself into my hands not knowing the result.
It was another step. We’d never have a relationship like mine with Mom and Hannah, but if Dad kept this up, we’d at least have a relationship.
Odd, a relationship with my estranged father. One I had never expected and still didn’t know what to do with.
I washed and combed his hair, then snipped it down to a nice clean cut. He worked in a factory. He didn’t need anything overly stylish.
When I finished, he looked ten years younger. The eyes helped with the change, a hint of that weariness, of the baggage he carried, gone.
With the cape removed, Dad raised a hand and lightly brushed it over his head. “I had thought it silly, a boy playing with hair, but you’ve got talent, kid. I don’t think I’ve ever had a haircut quite this good.”
Judging by what I cut off, I had to agree but kept my trap shut. Here was the praise I had wanted, always delivered in a sort of backhanded way. For the first time, I realized he didn’t mean it that way. “Thanks.”
Hannah entered the shop, joining us. “Wow, Dad, look at you. Nice job, Jake.”
“Your brother does a hell of a job.”
“The whole family agrees. Even the MIA member who I’m not allowed to text.” She rocked back on her heels, the picture of innocence.
I knew better.
“What are you picking on your brother about?” Apparently, Dad knew better as well.
So strange to have him here, playing intermediary like he might have when we were kids.
Hannah stared me down, saying nothing.
I sighed. “Something happened with Avery.”
My father rotated the chair to face me. “I thought you said her mother was going to be fine.”
I grabbed a broom and started sweeping the salt-and-pepper hair. “She was. At least, that was the plan. I haven’t spoken to her since before the surgery.”
Hannah grabbed my arm. “What the hell?”
I brushed her off and swept the hair into the side vacuum.
“Does he need us to point out he’s in love with her?” Dad asked.
“If the man who’s been gone can figure that out in a week, then perhaps he does.”
I threw the broom on the ground, all the simmering frustration coming to a head. “I know I’m in love with her! I love her so much it hurts. The problem is she doesn’t love me back.”
A part of my bleeding heart had been torn from my chest and forced onto display. I kept my gaze on the floor and the few strands of hair I had missed, not able to meet anyone’s eyes.
“She does.” Hannah’s voice held a soft compassion when she spoke. “She’s just scared.”
Scoffing would have been an appropriate response, but I couldn’t muster the enthusiasm. “Then maybe you should text her. Good luck with that.”
I stomped away from them, hurting my leg but not giving a damn, until I made it outside. The weather had dropped enough that flakes floated in the air. The kind that evaporated once they hit the ground and never amounted to anything but a warning that winter would arrive soon.
I’d spent the last few days pushing Avery out of my mind as much as possible. I collected all her belongings left at my house and placed them in a box by the front door. I almost went so far as to delete her pictures but couldn’t bring myself to do it. And each day, the hole she left hurt worse.
“Did I ever tell you how I proposed to your mother?”
I turned to find my father standing at the door. “No, but Avery found the rugelach recipe.”
Dad put his hands in his pockets, no longer appearing well worn. The scraggly man had been replaced by an updated version. “We had worked on that together. It took months and I was the one who realized the missing ingredient. I added it and made up the card. Had to force her to turn it over and find the proposal.”
I resisted an eye roll. “And all was well, a happy day had by all.”
Dad smiled. “She threw it at me. Told me I was foolish. We hadn’t been together that long, and we’d just make a mess out of each other’s lives. In retrospect, she was right, but I didn’t care. Still don’t. I loved her then. I love her now. I couldn’t handle my mistakes, and there were so many of them. I fought for her. That’s my point. Not that you’re destined for my problems because I can already see you clearly aren’t. If you love her, fight for her.”
He turned and headed inside. Leaving me alone with the night and the few flakes of snow. I thought of Avery, of everything she meant to me, everything she brought out in me. Of the first texts I received, of the shy baker who started here. Of getting her outside her shell. Of the way she laughed, the way she smiled. She wasn’t my father running from his mistakes. She wasn’t Diana who I could let go. Avery was my other half, my better half and Dad was right. I had to fight for her.
*
“Ahh, nothing like the smell of baked goods.”
Hannah and I glanced up from the papers we were reviewing to see a refreshed Mom at the back door, with Kirk close behind.
“You had plenty of baked goods this week,” Kirk said.
“But not my own.” Mom breathed in deep again. She looked good, lighter than I had seen her in years.
“What are you doing back?” Hannah asked. “You aren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow.”
“She refused to stay away, insisted we came back early to check in,” Kirk said.
Mom waved him off. “Can you blame me?”
She studied the kitchen and her eyes narrowed. Hannah and I shared a look. We both knew what that meant.
“Mom, a word.” Hannah motioned toward the office.
The four of us squeezed in, Mom with her arms crossed.
“What’s wrong? Where are Patrick and Avery?”
Of course, the last word was directed at me. I kept my mouth shut. Avery being gone wasn’t my fault. But now that Mom had returned, I could fix things.
“Short story,” Hannah said. “Patrick’s fired and Avery’s mom had a medical emergency.”
Mom uncrossed her arms. “Is she okay?”
Hannah gave me a look. “Last I heard, she was having gallbladder surgery.”
Mom’s eyebrows tried to touch her hairline. “‘Last you heard?’ What does ‘last you heard’ mean?”
I met her stare and said nothing. At this point, I needed in-person communication, not texting.
Hannah sighed. “It means they fought and he’s being a big idiot.”
“What does Avery have to say?”
“He won’t let me contact her.”
“And when has that ever stopped you?”
There was a knock at the door. I would have escaped if I weren’t trapped. Heck, I contemplated how to get out, but there wasn’t time. Kirk opened it and Dad appeared on the other side. Tiny office meet downright suffocating tension.
“Oh. Dad’s been helping out since Avery left.” Hannah smiled sheepishly at Mom.
Mom placed a hand on her head. “Why didn’t you call me?”
To my surprise, Dad was the one who answered. “Because you deserved a break, Nell. The kids had it covered and would have made it even with the emergency.”
Dad and Kirk sized each other up, but no one bothered introducing them.
“Okay. Patrick’s gone. We can start searching for someone to replace him.” Mom’s eyes met mine. “Do we look for someone to replace Avery as well?”
“Depends on how long he acts like a wimp.”
I shoved my hands through my hair, better than shoving them into a wall. “Are you done?”
“Are you?”
I wanted to pace, but there wasn’t the room and my desire to get the hell out of here had little to do with the crowd. I ran a hand through my hair. “Here’s the problem. I don’t know what Avery’s plans are now, but when she first arrived, she had dreams of going back home and opening her own bakery.”
“She’s not coming back,” Hannah whispered.
Mom shook her head. “No. Jake’s leaving.”
All eyes landed on me and I resisted the urge to squirm. “Not if I’m needed here.”
“Hush.” Mom waved a hand. “It looks like we’ve gained a new staff member since I left. You do what you have to do.”
My heart felt heavy. These people were my family and this bakery my home. But I could visit, just like Avery could visit her family if she stayed. And I could cut hair anywhere.
Avery didn’t intend to give me an ultimatum like Diana, but this one swung differently. I would follow her. Potentially to the gates of hell if that was what it took.
“Well, Mom’s back and Dad’s still around, so what are you still doing here?” Hannah asked.
One small problem with my plan. “I don’t know where her parents live.”
Mom turned around and pushed Kirk aside to open a drawer. She pulled out personnel files, and slid Avery’s over to me. “I believe her parents are her emergency contacts. Think that’ll help you out, boy?”
“See that grin? I think he’s got a plan,” Hannah said.
I hadn’t realized I was smiling.
Mom handed me the papers. “Go get her. Do something for yourself for a change.”
I looked around the room. Everyone waited for me to go after the woman I loved. And I did love her, more than I ever thought possible. “Give me her parents’ address.”
Hannah cheered as I pulled out my phone and set up my GPS.
CHAPTER THIR
TY-FOUR
Avery
Every night since I arrived at my parents’ house, I counted the hours until morning, averaging about an hour or two of sleep, if I was lucky. It hadn’t been this bad since, well, since before I moved to Massachusetts. Jake had a way of calming my thoughts, and those thoughts now ran around at top speed twenty-four hours a day, creating a detached sense of reality.
It made me yearn for the days I took sleeping pills, enough that I checked a drawer to see if any remained. Foolish. I didn’t want to get wrapped back up in those. But even five minutes with my brain turned off sounded like a trip to Disney World.
To make matters worse, in the quiet still of the night my mind wandered to Jake, and lingered. I worried about him, the bakery, Hannah. I worried about my mother’s recovery. I worried about getting the rest of my belongings from Massachusetts and about how I never officially quit my job.
I just left.
That was how my mother found me baking muffins at four in the morning. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t rest, couldn’t do anything but worry about everything.
“Avery, darling, I already have a freezer full of food. What am I going to do with these?”
I cringed at her words. I knew it was full. I couldn’t stop or I’d lose my tender grip on reality. “Bake sale?”
Mom sat at the table and I joined her. “Why are you still here?”
“You need me.”
She shook her head. “I love having my baby girl around, but I don’t need you.”
I dusted a few lingering crumbs from the place mat. “Well then, I guess I should look for a job.”
“A job? Didn’t you want your own bakery?”
I did, didn’t I? “Might need to stop at the bank first, figure out if I can qualify for a loan or not.”
Mom patted her chest. “And what does your heart say? Get out of your head. Stop worrying about Erik and everything under the sun.”
I stared at the table until the image blurred. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t want to know.” Mom yawned. “You’re done baking. I love your food, but at this point, I won’t need you to visit again for a year.”