April Showers

by Holly Jacobs

  Sophie frowned. “Where I come from, open and loving are not considered positive attributes.”

  “I don’t think I ever want to go there,” Mattie said.

  “You don’t. You’re so lucky, Mattie.” Lily joined in. “I saw you with your family at the engagement party. You love them and they love you. And I guess most families do love each other. But you like them, too.”

  “I do,” Mattie agreed.

  “I don’t know what that’s like—liking your family,” Lily said softly. “And I suspect neither does Sophie.”

  “No, I don’t. Love? Yes,” Sophie said. “But like? No.”

  “Are they coming to the wedding?” Lily asked. She was new to this kind of intimate friendship and obviously had a lot to learn. While she and the other women had bonded in a unique and intense way while they helped Bridget, Lily acknowledged they hadn’t shared much about their pasts. About their families.

  Sophie shook her head. “No, I won’t have anyone from my family at the wedding.” She took Lily’s and Mattie’s hands in hers. “But I’ll have the two of you, and that means more than you’ll ever know.”

  All three of them were teary-eyed when the food arrived. They talked about the wedding, the dresses, the flowers and decorations. As the food and wedding prep talk wound down, Lily said, “Mattie, don’t think we’ve forgotten about you and Finn. We’re still waiting on an explanation.”

  Mattie hefted a mock put-upon sigh. “You’re not going to let it go?”

  “No,” Lily and Sophie said at the same time.

  “Fine,” Mattie huffed with resignation. “We’re...together. Not only for the kids, but...”

  “You love him,” Lily said. “You love Finn Wallace.”

  “Yes,” Mattie admitted.

  Suddenly, Lily knew what that could mean to their friendship. After so many years of friendly, she treasured what she’d built with Mattie and Sophie. So she asked, not really wanting to hear the answer, “Are you taking the kids to Buffalo, then?”

  “No,” Mattie said.

  Tension that had wound tightly in her chest relaxed as Mattie continued, “Finn will still work with his partners but open a satellite office here. He’ll go into Buffalo a few days a week, but for the most part, he’ll be in Valley Ridge.”

  “With you and the kids,” Sophie said with a grin. “Like it should be.”

  “Yes. I didn’t want to say anything until after the wedding. This is your time, Sophie. We don’t want to usurp that.”

  “Mattie, love is something that should always be celebrated,” Sophie said softly. “Knowing you and Finn are in love only makes my wedding more special.”

  “More perfect,” Lily whispered.

  She’d looked to Sophie and Colton as proof that the true and everlasting kind of love did exist, and as she looked at Mattie, she saw even more evidence of that kind of love.

  Lily knew she’d never have that kind herself. She wasn’t foolish enough to blame her past. She put the blame firmly where it belonged...on herself. She simply wasn’t the kind of person who was meant to open herself up and share all her secrets with someone.

  That being said, she wouldn’t mind a quick interlude with someone. Maybe it was time to throw caution to the wind and have a fling with a guy who wasn’t looking to settle down.

  With someone who was only in town for a short while.

  And as she thought the word someone, it was Sebastian’s face that came to mind. He was only here until the wedding and he’d made it clear he wasn’t looking for a happily-ever-after, either.

  That was something to think about.

  * * *

  SEBASTIAN TOLD HIMSELF he wasn’t really waiting for Lily to come home. She’d been gone all day with Sophie and Mattie. He’d known it would be for the whole day, but somehow, not having her in her apartment at the back of the house felt wrong. Most days, she stopped in between clients. But today, not a glimpse.

  He felt...

  Oh, hell, he sort of missed her.

  She’d gone on a very early call in order to have the rest of the day for the fitting, so he hadn’t even seen her at breakfast. She’d left some muffins on the counter with a note.

  Hank and Sebastian,

  Mattie made them, so you know they’re healthy—but they’re also good. See you tonight.

  She’d left one muffin for his grandfather and one for him, as well.

  She’d included him in the note.

  They hadn’t needed him at the diner today, but he couldn’t stand the quiet house another minute, so he’d come in during the dinner rush to hang out with Hank...and watch for her.

  When Lily finally walked into the diner around four-thirty, smiling at everyone and hugging Hank, something inside him unwound.

  He felt...relieved.

  “Hi, Sebastian,” she called out as she breezed through the place. He grabbed the box he’d bought and followed her into the office. “How was your day?”

  “Wonderful.” She threw her bag into a file cabinet drawer and thumbed through the mail, still talking to him. “The dresses need a few alterations, but Sophie looked beautiful. No shock there.”

  “I’m sure you looked beautiful, too.”

  She looked up from the mail, surprise registering on her face, then she shook her head. Her dangly earrings sounded as she moved. Sebastian knew that she didn’t see herself as beautiful. But he did. Instantly, he felt as nervous as a schoolboy.

  “I got you something.” He thrust the cardboard box at her.

  She looked even more surprised. She dropped the stack of mail on the desk and took the box. “For what?”

  “You’ll understand when you see it.” He’d spotted it at Quarters and known she’d be delighted. He hadn’t even thought twice about picking it up. He’d felt like a kid putting cookies out on the plate, waiting for Santa.

  Lily eyed the small box suspiciously.

  “I promise it’s not going to bite you.”

  She opened it and pulled out a giant binder.

  “All the paper and the plastic sheets are acid-free. Marilee called them archival. It should help protect the articles and stuff you found.”

  “Sebastian, this is so sweet.”

  Her laugh lines were back in their proper places, which he knew meant she was genuinely pleased. Knowing he’d made her happy made him happy, and that realization left him flustered. “I’m not sweet.”

  She laughed. “I’m sorry. You’re a marine. That means you’re all huzzah and semper fi, right?”

  He tried to look stern, but in the face of her amusement he couldn’t quite manage it.

  She grew more serious, but her laugh lines stayed in place as she said, “Really, thank you. It’s a very thoughtful gift.”

  He’d wanted her to be pleased by the gift, but witnessing her happiness made him anxious, though he wasn’t sure why. He wanted her happy, but he didn’t want her to look at him as if he were a hero. He knew that was a lie. A hero would be fighting next to his buddies, not home. He knew he had an excuse. He flexed his stupid left hand. But knowing and feeling, Lily had said, were two different things.

  “It’s more for the diner than for you,” he said, trying to hide from the intimacy of giving her a gift.

  “Sebastian, you can’t take it back. You got me a very sweet gift. Sure, it’s for the diner, but more specifically, you were thinking of me. That’s a very sweet thing to do.” She kissed his cheek, still laughing.

  She’d reminded him that he was a marine. He was prepared for anything. Ready to face anything. But this? He didn’t know what to do with Lily. So he scolded her. “You said the word sweet again.”

  She set the binder down and, with dramatic flair, crossed her heart like he used to do with Finn and Colton. “Here’s a promise,” she said solemnly. “From now on, I might think the word sweet on occasion, but I’ll try not to say it out loud. Uh, when I think you’re being pigheaded or basically annoying, is it okay to tell you that?”

&n
bsp; “Could I stop you?”

  So much for serious because she chuckled and said, “Probably not.”

  Now that he’d given her the gift, he wasn’t sure what to do—what to say to her. So he settled for the first thing he could think of. “I should get back out front.”

  She glanced at the schedule she had posted on the wall. “You’re not on the clock tonight?” she half said, half asked.

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “So you could go back out front, or you could take a stack of papers and help me sort.” She pointed to the piles that littered the floor.

  Sebastian wanted to stay. He wanted to sit on the floor and laugh with Lily as he looked through the diner’s history—his grandfather’s history.

  But she was staring at him in a way that made him feel uncomfortable

  “No, I should let you get to work. Glad you had a good day and that you liked the album.” He hurried out before she could say anything else.

  He’d been so excited at the prospect of pleasing her, yet once he did, he’d felt awkward and disingenuous.

  The word disingenuous sounded like something Lily would say. Why the hell was Lily Paul dominating his every thought?

  He didn’t like it.

  He didn’t like it at all.

  * * *

  LILY WASN’T SURE what had happened yesterday with Sebastian. He hadn’t come down for breakfast. And when she stopped at home in between visits, he hadn’t come by and said hi, even though his car was in the drive.

  His mood swings in general were understandable. But she found his hot-and-cold attitude toward her grating; still, she tamped down the feeling and tried to concentrate on being caring.

  Hank had never talked about what happened to Sebastian as a soldier. And he rarely talked about what Sebastian had done after high school when he’d left to go to college.

  She thought about going into the diner that evening but opted not to. She wasn’t sure which Sebastian she’d find...the amicable one or the not-so-much one.

  There was a certain Jekyll-and-Hyde quality to Sebastian. She smiled at the thought but decided it might not be wise to mention it.

  She changed her clothes, and since she’d already decided the diner was out, she wasn’t quite sure what to do. She could visit Mattie and maybe pitch in with the kids. Or she could head over to Sophie’s.

  She could sit in her apartment and read, or even clean.

  What she ended up doing was sitting on the glider. She couldn’t believe how quickly the year had gone.

  There was a sweet scent on the breeze as she sat on the creaky swing. She leaned back and let the rhythmic rocking soothe her. Maybe when she finished cleaning the office at the diner she’d sand this down and repaint it.

  She fingered a huge paint peel. Her cell phone interrupted her ruminations.

  She didn’t check her caller ID. She simply said, “Hello?”

  “Lily Claire, it’s your mother.”

  “Hi, Mom. How are you?” She rocked the glider.

  Her mother didn’t answer her question. She didn’t inquire how Lily was or what she was doing. Without any preface, she said, “I need money.”

  “Mom, I love you, but you know I can’t.” She rocked the glider with more force than necessary.

  “You won’t,” her mother argued.

  They’d had this conversation before. Sometimes frequently. Sometimes less frequently. But it always came back to this. “Fine, Mom. I won’t give you the money.”

  “Your father—”

  Yes, Lily understood that her mother had acquiesced for so many years—she’d bowed and groveled—that it was second nature. If her father said jump, her mother asked how high. She felt sorry for her mother. But even if she gave her mother everything she asked for, her father would never be happy.

  She interrupted her. “Mom, I’ll help you leave. I’ll come get you and we’ll move you somewhere he can’t find you. There are organizations. Programs—”

  “And what would I do for money, Lily Claire?” she asked wearily, with no rancor. “I’ve never supported myself. I’ve never worked—”

  “You’ve never worked because he wouldn’t allow it. If you left, you could do what you want. Be what you want.”

  “What I want is some money to tide us over. He says you have your bonus from that rich doctor. You should share. Please, Lily.”

  Everything in Lily wanted to say yes. She’d said yes so many times before. She’d sent money she didn’t have, scrimped and made ends meet in order to send the money. If it would make her mother’s life easier, improve it in some way, she’d find the means now to send it, but she knew it wouldn’t really improve her mother’s lot. She knew exactly where any money she sent would go—exactly where it had gone in the past. So Lily steeled her resolve. “Mom, I don’t have any of that bonus left. I bought into a business. But even if I did, I wouldn’t send it. I told you that last time was it. I’ll help you leave—”

  “I won’t leave,” her mother said softly. “I take my vows seriously.”

  “Mom, I don’t think anyone expects you to stay in a situation like that.”

  Her mother sighed. “I called for help.”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you. But call if you change your mind. Otherwise, I’ll talk to you on Sunday like we always do.”

  “What good is talk?” her mother said. Again there was no anger, only a bone-deep weariness.

  “Mom, you can be in charge. You can change things. You just have to take that first step. If you do, I’ll help in any way I can. But I can’t send you more money. I’m sorry, Mom. I’ll call this weekend.”

  The phone went dead.

  “I love you,” Lily said to the dial tone.

  It would be easier if her mother got angry at her. If she could learn to get angry at Lily, maybe she’d finally get angry with Lily’s father, and maybe if she did, she’d finally leave him.

  Lily shoved her phone into her back pocket, pulled her legs onto the glider’s seat and wrapped her arms around them as she allowed herself to be calmed by the glider’s motion.

  She chanted the Serenity Prayer over and over. It was her private mantra. She couldn’t make her mother take action now any more than she could when she was a child.

  Her mother had locked herself into a situation. Lily could point to a door. She could even open it. But her mother had to be the one to make the decision to go through it.

  So she’d continue to call on Sundays. She’d send gifts for birthdays and holidays. But she wouldn’t send money. She hoped that someday her mother would decide she’d had enough and walk through the door for good.

  Tears slid down Lily’s cheek. Normally, she wouldn’t allow herself to cry. She knew from years of experience that it didn’t do any good. But sometimes...sometimes she couldn’t help it. She knew she was doing what she could, but it didn’t make it easy.

  She brushed away the tears and willed herself to stop.

  Maybe someday her mother would be ready to leave. Until then, Lily would hold open the door and wait.

  She continued rocking, knowing she’d done the right thing, the only thing she could do, but aching from it nonetheless.

  A giant crash from inside the house pulled her from her misery.

  She brushed the remnants of her tears aside and raced toward the house, thinking Hank had left the diner early for some reason, that he’d fallen or hurt himself.

  “Hank?” she called as she rushed through the open doorway.

  “He’s at work” was the response. But not from Hank. Sebastian.

  “Sebastian, are you okay?” she asked, finding him seated at the kitchen table.

  “Oh, I’m fine. Absolutely freakin’ perfect. I’m feeling better, and I thought, I’ll start running again. It always made me feel fantastic. I told myself that the first few days would be more of a brisk walk, but that’s fine, because you gotta start slow. My leg injury hardly bothers me. But do you know what, Little Lily Sunsh
ine? In order to go out running, or even brisk walking, one should have on sneakers, not the freakin’ loafers I’ve taken to wearing. But though my leg is improved, my hand isn’t. I can’t tie my shoes. Something every kindergartner does.”

  His frustration rolled off him like waves. She wanted to reach out and touch him. Maybe pat his shoulder. Something to reassure him and soothe him. But he didn’t appear to be in a mood that would welcome that kind of comfort. Instead, she asked, “The shoe tying explains the frustration, but the crash?”

  He pointed to the shoe on the counter, and the shards of the stoneware container Hank used as a holder for utensils.

  “Temper tantrums don’t look good on two-year-olds and they look worse on adults.” She retrieved the shoe and tossed it at him. He caught it with his right hand. She picked up the broken container and put the spoons and spatulas and things into the sink.

  Any other time, she might have tried to offer Sebastian a pep talk. She might have told him it would be okay. Things would get better. But coming on the heels of her talk with her mother—with listening to her mother’s inability to help herself—Lily had no sympathy or pep talks left over.

  “Hold on one minute.” She walked back to her apartment, opened up her laptop, did a quick search, and when she found the right page, she went back into Hank’s kitchen. She handed the laptop to Sebastian. “There. You can borrow it.”

  He looked at the computer as if it were an alien device. “What is it?”

  “YouTube. There are all kinds of videos on how to do things with one hand. How to tie your shoes, typing and opening bottles are a few. Stop breaking things and start figuring things out.”

  She started to storm out of the kitchen, but then stopped and faced him. “You scared me tonight. I thought you were Hank and that he’d fallen or hurt himself. He called me Leanne yesterday and asked me to stay, to never leave. It only lasted a moment. I said, ‘Hank, it’s Lily,’ and he came right back, but...” She paused. “But I thought that he’d come home and hurt himself.”

  “He called you Leanne?” Sebastian asked.