Autumn Leaves

by Kathleen Y'Barbo

  “She’ll take her this time.”

  “That’s possible,” she said carefully. “But we’ve lived under the fear of that long enough, don’t you think? And besides, she’s got plenty of good reasons not to now. We’ve just got to trust that she’ll see that.”

  When Sessa didn’t immediately respond, Bonnie Sue returned her attention to her great-granddaughter, now laughing uproariously at something on the near side of the pasture. Bonnie Sue feared only one thing greater than Pansie’s mama taking her away, and that was Pansie never knowing who her mama really was.

  A woman needed her kin at certain times, and where would she and Sessa be? Long gone, likely.

  No. That little girl needed to know her mama just as much as Sessa wanted the woman to sign papers and leave. How it all worked out—that was up to the Lord. And on this matter, He’d get no help from Bonnie Sue either way.

  Well, not much.

  “Can you believe those two made these pies?” Sessa said.

  “Well I wondered why nobody called me to make the pies for tonight, it being your turn to host the book club and all.” Bonnie Sue smiled. “You mean to tell me that your four-year-old granddaughter can make a better pie than you can?”

  Sessa’s inability to make a pie was legendary in Sugar Pine. The fact she belonged to a book club where she was required to make four of them every time she hosted the monthly event only added to the stories.

  “It appears so.” She paused as the sound of women’s laughter drifted in from the other side of the kitchen door. “Trey helped. A lot. But Pansie rolled all the crusts out by herself. I swear she’s a natural. That pie-making gene must have skipped a generation”

  “Must have.” She noticed Sessa’s bottom lip tremble and wrapped her arm around her back. “The Lord’s going to do what the Lord’s going to do, but He always does what’s best.”

  Sessa met her gaze, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “That’s what I’m afraid of, Mama.”

  “Oh, honey.”

  Bonnie Sue’s best friend, Vonnette, burst through the door carrying four empty glasses “What in the world is taking you two so long to get those pies sliced? Goodness, but it’s been a long time since the PB&J Book Club took on such an interesting book.”

  “I had no idea you liked Scottish stories so much, Vonnette,” Bonnie Sue said. “Last time I was in the Hairport you were complaining that Thorn in My Heart was too long and there was too much history.”

  Vonnette waved away her comment.

  Sessa turned to face the hairdresser. She blanked her expression as she picked up one of the trays of pies and headed toward the kitchen door. “You know that’s not all this book is about, don’t you?”

  Vonnette watched Sessa go then shook her head. “She didn’t take it well at all, did she?”

  “Would you?”

  “Probably not,” Vonnette agreed as she snatched up a tray of pies and followed Sessa, “but I know just the thing to take her mind off her troubles, at least for tonight.”

  “Pie?”

  Vonnette cast a look over her shoulder at Bonnie Sue. “I’m sure those pies will be good, but girl, warrior men in kilts? Discuss!”

  That surely had everyone’s attention. The dozen or so ladies who had been happily chatting fell silent and then, slowly, began to giggle.

  “Oh, goodness,” Bonnie Sue said as she followed Vonnette to join the ladies of the Pies, Books & Jesus Book Club. “You do understand we have Jesus in the title of our club for a reason, don’t you?”

  “You can love the Lord and appreciate a man in a kilt,” Carly Chance said. She was the young wife of a former soldier and the mother of a two-year-old. “I know every once in a while I get Jared to put his kilt on, and I’ll tell you, it’s quite a sight to see.”

  The room fell silent as each of them tried to imagine the former Special Forces member donning Scottish attire, even in the privacy of his own home. Finally Carly laughed. “I’m kidding!”

  As the women resumed chatting, Coco Smith, Sessa’s best friend since childhood, came over to stand by Bonnie Sue. “Have you found Skye?”

  Well now, she hadn’t expected that. “I guess Sessa told you, then.”

  “She did.”

  “Well, in that case, yes, her number was traced to Galveston where she’s been living. I went down there and took her to lunch today.”

  “I see. Well, I’m glad one of us finally did something.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Coco shrugged. “You, me, and Sessa are the only ones who know that girl’s number, and I’ve managed not to call it for going on two years. Even so, I hate watching my friend jump every time the phone rings or a Greyhound pulls into the station.” She paused to touch Bonnie Sue’s sleeve. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything. I guess you’ve got a plan for what you’ll do with her once she’s here. And it is legal, right?”

  “You’re a good friend to my girl,” she told Coco. “And yes, I have a plan that’s legal, although it will involve inviting Skye—who goes by the name of Autumn, by the way—to next month’s meeting.”

  Coco’s perfectly plucked brows rose, but she quickly recovered. “Your girl is a good friend to me. I’ll see that whatever you need done is done. Just say the word.” Coco nodded toward the group. “Now about those men in kilts . . .”

  “Hey ladies,” Vonnette called. “Did you hear what next month’s book club selection is?”

  “No, ma’am. What is it?”

  “The sequel to Thorn in My Heart,” all the ladies said in unison.

  “More men in kilts!” Vonnette added with a grin.

  “Well, I did enjoy that book,” Bonnie Sue said, “and I have to admit I’ve already bought the sequel and read it.” She returned to her seat on the sofa between Sessa and Vonnette.

  “I’m on book three,” Carly said.

  Sessa shrugged. “Just finished the third one and started the fourth.”

  “Well goodness,” Bonnie Sue said. “I guess we’re going to be talking about men in kilts for a while.” She paused to wink. “But give me a man in a quilt any day.”

  Chapter Five

  It was just dinner. What could happen?

  With everything that happened yesterday, a distraction was exactly what Skye needed. And he had been nice enough to repair her bike.

  But what was his name? He’d told her, but her addled brain hadn’t properly latched on to it.

  No, she realized as logic pushed away the image of the handsome surfer. Two weeks before she moved away, even temporarily, was not the time to get involved with anyone.

  Even if it was just dinner.

  Skye tossed the note onto the kitchen counter and walked across the frayed carpet to the window. Years of sea air had carved etches in the wavy glass that made seeing clearly difficult, but the charm of the little place, which had survived the Great Storm of 1900, made living there worth the inconvenience.

  She did owe the surfer a debt of gratitude. If she couldn’t repay his kindness with a date, she could at least offer something else. Bonnie Sue’s mention of pies had her thinking about a concoction she’d come up with when she’d lived in San Antonio with the foster parents who owned a bakery.

  Yes, she’d bake a pie cake for the surfer who’d saved her bike. With the meager ingredients from her pantry and freezer and the recipe off the dark corn syrup bottle, she baked a pecan pie and set it aside to cool. With the oven still warm, she mixed up a box of chocolate cake mix, turned the pie upside down into the batter and put the concoction in to cook.

  She set the timer on her phone and tucked her phone into the pocket of her shorts. Then she grabbed her book and stepped onto the little balcony to claim her favorite chair. From this chair, if she leaned just far enough to the right, she could see the Gulf of Mexico. And if she leaned just far enough to the left, she could catch the shade from the ancient wisteria bush that climbed around the windows and danced across the roofline from her side of the Victorian d
uplex to the other.

  If she could ignore the occasional bees that would forget the purple blossoms and buzz around her, it was the perfect spot.

  Skye opened her well-worn copy of Fair is the Rose to the first page and began to read. Soon she was immersed in the story, so much so that she never heard anyone approach until someone shouted, “Hey, are you up there?”

  Startled, she juggled the book and almost dropped it before sticking the bookmark in her place.

  Skye set the book aside and leaned over the wisteria-covered balcony to find the handsome surfer standing there. He wore running shoes and a pale blue T-shirt over gray basketball shorts, and he looked as if he’d just left the gym.

  He leaned against the fender of her white Jeep, his arms crossed. “Well, hello.”

  “Hi,” she said. “About the bike. Thank you. It was you who fixed it, wasn’t it?”

  He grinned. “It was, and you’re welcome. But um . . .” He looked away and then back at her. “Was there a note on the handlebars?”

  So it definitely was him. “Yes,” she said slowly. “About that.” An expectant expression rose. “You’re very sweet to ask me out, um . . .” What was his name?

  “Nate?” he offered as if he’d heard her thoughts.

  “Yes, Nate, thank you for the offer of dinner, but I really don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  He leaned back against the hood of her car and stuck his hands into the pockets of his shorts.

  “You mean dinner in general or just dinner with me? I mean, I’d understand if you were rejecting me, but rejecting an entire meal? That’s harsh.” He paused and seemed to be contemplating something. “No,” he continued. “I don’t think I’d understand either. I mean, I am charming, and I do a pretty decent job of straightening a bike wheel.” Again, he paused. “Oh, and puppies, kittens, and little kids love me.”

  He wasn’t making this easy.

  “I’m sure all of that is true, but—”

  “So you are rejecting an entire meal group?” He shook his head. “Wow.”

  Skye stifled a grin. “No.”

  “Then you’re not saying no to dinner?”

  “No, I’m not,” she managed as she tried not to giggle. He was indeed charming, and whether puppies, kittens, and little children liked him, she could certainly learn to.

  “Great! I’ll come by at seven. Dress casual. I thought I’d grill steaks. Or are you the kind who likes to be formal? Because I can totally do that. You decide. I mean, since you’ve decided you’re not against dinner and all.”

  “Wait, how did this happen?” She finally gave in to laughter. “I did not agree to go anywhere with you.”

  “Perfect! I’d sort of thought I would grill, but then I thought no, she’s probably the kind of girl who would like a picnic. Then I thought well, maybe she likes going out.” He paused and grinned up at her. “It means a lot to me that you liked my original idea. So, just come on over at seven. How do you like your steak?”

  “Rare.”

  “We’re going to get along just fine.” He paused to nod toward the staircase on the other side of the building, the one that was a mirror image of hers. “Do you need directions? Because it’s right there.”

  “No, I think I can find it.”

  “Well, great!” He glanced down at his clothes and then at Skye. “I promise I’ll shower before then.”

  “That’s nice of you,” she said. “Oh, hey, um, before you go, what do I owe you for the bike repairs?”

  “Nothing,” he said as he headed toward his own staircase.

  Skye leaned further over the rail, holding on to the ancient wood to be certain she didn’t tumble. “Wait. Come back.”

  “Miss me already?” He returned to his spot beneath the balcony.

  “Really, what did it cost to repair? I’ll pay you back.”

  “No,” he said firmly. “You won’t.”

  “But you must have spent something on it.”

  “Nope, now go back to whatever you were doing before I interrupted you, and I’ll see you at seven.” He took a few steps away and then turned back around. “What were you doing, by the way?”

  “Reading.” She reached down for the book and then set it on the rail as a bee buzzed past.

  “I see that,” he said. “Thick book you’ve got there. Must be a textbook of some kind. What’s your major?”

  “It’s a novel,” she said, though she allowed the briefest thought that someday perhaps she might be reading a college textbook.

  “Would I recognize the title?”

  “I don’t know,” she said as she reached for the book. “Do you like Scottish—?” Instead of the novel, her palm touched the bee that had landed on top of it. “Ouch!”

  She shook her hand, knocking the novel off the ledge. As Skye grabbed for the falling book, the railing cracked, and she catapulted over.

  The horizon tilted, and something grabbed at her ankle. The wisteria, maybe. Whatever it was, it only slowed her fall because a second later, the impediment ripped away.

  Skye closed her eyes and braced herself to hit the driveway below only to land with a soft thud. She opened her eyes. There was the handsome surfer looking down at her.

  It took a moment longer to realize Nate was holding her. She wriggled to her feet, but her knees gave way.

  “Hold on there,” Nate said as he steadied her. “Are you hurt? That must’ve been an eight-foot drop.”

  She grabbed the stair rail to steady herself and felt a searing pain in her palm. “I think the bee . . . Nate! Your nose! It’s bleeding!”

  A nosebleed. Not exactly the charming impression he’d hoped to pull off.

  “Oh Nate, I’m so sorry! I must have kicked you when I fell.”

  “Hey, it’s all right. I’m just glad you weren’t wearing something more dangerous than a pair of sandals.”

  “Me, too!”

  Instead of laughing at his poor attempt at a joke, she seemed to be looking around for something to staunch the flow. He provided her one by slipping out of his shirt. She took it and gently dabbed at his nose.

  It wasn’t helping a bit—in fact it hurt worse—but it also gave him time to study Skye—or Autumn or whoever she was today—up close. Her fingers were long, her nails short and covered in clear polish, a sure sign she took care of herself. Or at least that’s what Bonnie Sue would have said.

  Her eyes were a beautiful deep brown with flecks of gold that matched the freckles that dusted her cheeks and nose. She was tanned but not overly so, and there was a small scar just above her right eyebrow.

  “I think it’s stopped,” she said when she caught him watching her. “Here, hold your shirt against your nose for a few more minutes to be sure.”

  He took the shirt from her, allowing his hand to brush hers.

  When she stepped away, she winced.

  “Looks like hitting my hard head hurt your foot.”

  This time she laughed as she sat on the staircase leading to her half of the cottage. “We’re a sorry pair, aren’t we?”

  Nate sat on the step below her. “I’ll admit I’ve never had a more interesting first meeting with anyone.” He looked up at her. “Ever.”

  “I must seem like a terrible klutz to you.” She studied the palm of her hand where the bee sting was rising up an angry red color. “But I promise you’re the only one I’ve run over with a bike and fallen on from a balcony.”

  “On the same day,” he added.

  “Yes. Oh!” She jumped to her feet, her eyes wide.

  “What happened? Another bee sting?” Nate stood and watched her limp up the stairs.

  “No,” she called. “The timer on my phone went off. My cake is ready.”

  He followed her up but halted at her door. Apparently she rented her half of the duplex furnished as well, for everything here matched everything in his place. The only difference was that, in his living room, there was no art on the walls, while here there were a half-dozen childish drawing
s in bright colors pinned to the wall opposite the door.

  And while his smelled like salt air and wet swimsuits on a good day, this one smelled amazing. Like a bakery. Or that cupcake shop on the Strand.

  Or his grandmother’s kitchen.

  “What is that?” he asked as she lifted a pan from the oven and set it on the counter.

  “This is your thank you gift,” she said.

  “For catching you?”

  She grinned. “For repairing my bike.”

  He leaned against the doorframe, a casual pose that was probably a whole lot less sexy given the fact he now had a bloody T-shirt draped over his arm. He did manage a grin despite the fact his nose was beginning to throb. “So, you were coming to dinner. And here you were telling me you didn’t think it was a good idea.”

  Her face colored beneath her tan. “I said I was baking you a cake. That is not the same as dinner.”

  He shrugged. “Considering all that’s happened between us today—you with the bicycle accident, the fall off the balcony and the bee sting, and me with the bloody nose—I think we need to have dinner together just to laugh about all of it.”

  She seemed to be considering this. At least he hoped she was.

  “Sure,” she said. “But it’s just dinner, all right? I’m kind of, well . . .” She turned her back on him to play with the controls on the oven and then tossed the bright red oven mitts onto the counter. “I’m just not in a place to offer much to anyone as far as a relationship. I mean, you seem like a very nice guy, but I all I can offer is friendship right now, and truly, I’m not very good at that.”

  Given his track record, neither was he. “Friends it is,” he declared. “Now tell me about this cake. What’s in it?”

  “You’ll have to wait and see.”

  “Fair enough. So are you okay? I mean, do you need help taking care of that bee sting?”

  She held up her hand. “I can manage.”

  “All right. See you at seven,” he said as he made his getaway, his nose throbbing but his hopes soaring.

  Chapter Six