“More like blew it to oblivion.”
She giggled and he closed his eyes, savoring the shock of desire it sent coursing through him. Would he ever know a sexier sound?
“It’s for the best, really. Only two more classes.”
“Oh, I don’t know. In my experience, a single night with you is enough to give a woman a whole new perspective.”
“That’s quite an endorsement. Can I get it in writing?”
“I’m working on a blog post, actually.”
“You blog?”
“No.” She tipped her head to the side and looked at him askance. “I joke.”
“I see.” They’d reached the car, and he turned to her with a grin. “Funny.”
She gazed up at him, her mouth opening on a sigh even as concern ruffled the skin between her brows.
“David,” she whispered. “I’m sorry about last week. How things end—”
“Please. You have nothing to apologize for. I’m the one who’s sorry.” Gently, he took her by the shoulders. “For so many things.” He had to look away, overwhelmed by the seemingly endless list of regrets he had where Epiphany Jones was concerned. “Last week—I shouldn’t have left like that.”
“No. You were right. There wasn’t anything more to say. I just…” She smiled. “I just wasn’t ready.”
“I know, but I think I could have made it easier.”
“Maybe.”
“But then my cover as an arrogant ass would have been blown.”
She chuckled quietly.
“Well, we couldn’t have that.”
“No, we couldn’t. I’ve got a reputation to protect, you know.”
“David.” Her wistful sigh made his heart heavy.
“Listen, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you…about your writing.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. Your admiration for your grandmother is apparent, but your mother…Your feelings for her aren’t as clear to me. And I’m curious. How do you feel about her?”
She made a little noise of surprise before smiling.
“I love my mother.”
“Present tense?”
“She was my mother. As long as I live I’ll love her.”
“Even though she chose drugs over you.”
“At that point, the drugs weren’t a choice for her. That’s why Gram intervened when she did.” Ephie paused, looking thoughtful. “You know, I don’t really remember what happened. I was five. It’s hard to know where the memories end and Gram’s stories begin. I’ve never been able to confirm the part about the restraining order. Part of me suspects Gram made it up.”
“Why would she do that?”
“To protect me.”
“From what?”
“The truth. That my mother simply handed me over.”
“Is that what you think happened?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I think it’s possible.”
“Would it change how you feel about her, your mother?”
“No.” Her chin came up the slightest bit. “She didn’t have a whole lot of control over her life, but she chose to let me go. Whatever the reason, for that I’ll always love her.”
David stared at Ephie while he tried to digest her words. The beeping of the car locks being released brought him out of his stupor. She wanted to leave, and the idea filled him with cold dread.
“How?” he blurted.
“How what?”
“How do you forgive someone like that, someone who’s hurt you, brought darkness into your life?”
“It’s not as difficult as you might think, especially when you’re really doing it for yourself.”
“What do you mean?”
“My grandmother made a good life for me. Resenting my mother? What purpose would it have served? Besides, forgiving her allowed me to forgive myself.”
“Forgive yourself? For what?”
“You know what epiphany means, of course.”
“The sudden understanding of a meaningful truth, often implying divine intervention.”
She stepped close to him, reaching up to gently trace his jawline with her fingers. He ached at the sadness in her smile.
“She had very high hopes for me. Didn’t she?”
“You were a baby, you can’t think—”
“Thinking has nothing to do with it. And as we both know, emotions are complicated. And for as long as I can remember, I’ve believed”—her eyes got bright in the moonlight—“my mother hoped I’d save her.” She smiled. “But I just wasn’t enough.”
He remembered their first kiss, the warmth of her lips and the shelter of her embrace. He’d recognized her on an elemental level like a migrating animal having found its way home. And he wanted to tell her, find the words to make her understand without giving himself away. She was so much more than enough…for her mother…and for him.
The twin beams from the headlights of an exiting car slashed across her face. She squinted and turned from the glare. When she faced him again, the moment had passed.
“I should go.”
Numb, he reached around to open her door, closing his eyes as he felt her hand slip from his face. When he looked, again, she was sitting in the driver’s seat, holding on to the steering wheel with both hands.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
She shrugged.
“For everything.” A smile warmed her face. “For going against your better judgment, for bending the rules, for showing me I need to pay more attention to what I want. I’ve learned a lot about myself. It’s important to me you know that.”
Hand shaking, David reached out to touch her cheek.
“Thank you, fireball.” Unable to resist, he brushed his thumb over the swell of her bottom lip one last time. “I’m glad. Truly.”
She started the car and he stepped back, easing the door shut between them. Giving him a cheery wave, she turned and pulled away. The seconds ticked by, David’s fingers and toes growing numb as he continued to stare at the spot where the taillights of Ephie’s silver sedan had disappeared from view.
Chapter 22
“I really like this idea, Philip.”
Arms crossed over his chest, David stood next to his landscaper, and accidental friend, surveying the largely unused far corner of the otherwise manicured grounds behind the funeral home.
“I thought we could do a winding brick path to bring people through the gardens.”
“Could you work in more seating?”
“Of course. And I’d suggest a few more plantings.”
“For privacy?”
“Exactly.”
“And will they be able to hear it?”
“I’d imagine as soon as they come off the back patio.”
“Good.”
David nodded.
“There’d be a reflecting pool nearest to us with a good-sized waterfall behind it.” Philip framed the different sections with his hands as he described the details of his plan. “We’ll work with the contours of the hill, build right into it. I’ve got access to some great material, remnants from old stone walls. Incredible weathering on them, even patches of lichen. And use natives—junipers, ferns, blueberries, clusters of wildflowers, cattails at the back. It’ll look like it’s always been here.”
David shifted his gaze to the animated man beside him.
“You really love your work.”
Philip gave him a sheepish smile.
“Yeah, I do. Don’t you?”
“I’m passionate about it, but love? It’s too complicated for that.”
“And you don’t think love is complicated?”
“If it is, then it probably isn’t.”
“What’s that? Some kind of Zen bullshit?”
David laughed.
“Hardly. I just—” A telling vibration saved him from having to complete the thought.
David wo
ndered how a conversation about shrubs had turned into an existential analysis of love. Certainly, the premature end to his ill-fated relationship with Ephie Jones had something to do with it. Shaking his head, he reached into the inside pocket of his topcoat for his cell, checking the caller ID. Dan Briar.
“My brother,” he explained, sliding the phone back in place.
“Aren’t you going to answer it?”
“It’s fine. I’ll call him when we’re through.”
“Well, I’ve pretty much laid it out for you. If you like the idea, I’ll get some plans together and work up some numbers.”
“I like it a lot. How long for the installation?”
“A couple of weeks, give or take.”
“And when were you thinking?”
“Early spring. Most everything can be planted then, and it’ll be less disruptive. I don’t imagine many folks come out here while it’s still chilly.”
“Most folks don’t come out here at all. I’m hoping what you’ve outlined will change that.”
Philip nodded. “I’ve wanted to suggest it to you for a while now.”
“Why haven’t you?”
“Honestly?” He gave David a sidelong glance.
“Of course.”
“I’ve been too pissed off.”
“Philip, I don’t know how else to tell you I’m sor—”
“I know,” he broke into David’s apology. “It’s stupid. Besides, it’s not you I’m mad at. It’s myself, for letting her get to me.”
“Who? Lexi? She’s still calling you?”
“Not as much. Just the occasional drunken voicemail. Very attractive.”
“Aren’t we a pair? You’ve got a woman you can’t get rid of, and mine couldn’t get away from me fast enough.” Bitterness underlined his humorless chuckle. “We’d both be better off if you’d told me to fuck off that night.”
“No, you don’t, Briar. No way you lay this shit on my doorstep. You were going to meet her that night whether I went with you or not.”
“I know.” David shook his head. “You’re right. I just didn’t expect things to—”
His phone went off, again. He grabbed for it, glancing at the screen before dropping it back in place.
“Damn it, Dan,” he muttered.
“Maybe you should answer.”
“He just calls me when he needs to vent about our father.”
“Oh, do they live together?”
“No.” David chuckled at the thought. “Dan’s wife wouldn’t allow it. And Dad’s pretty self-sufficient; he’s just a bit of a sad sack. He never really recovered after his wife left him.”
“That’s rough. When did she leave?”
David hated the fact he knew without calculating.
“Twenty-eight years ago.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, wow.”
“You said his wife. Not your mother?”
“In my opinion, when you willfully abandon your children, you forfeit the title.”
Philip brought his head back and grunted. “Right.”
There was a moment of silence, both men lost in their own thoughts.
“Did you say she couldn’t get away from you fast enough? Were you talking about Ephie?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“Things got…complicated.”
“I don’t know, Briar. It seems to me a woman like her might be worth a few complications.”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
“She wasn’t interested in negotiating?”
“She was.” David remembered her eyes, round and pleading. “But there wasn’t any point.”
Philip gave a disbelieving snort.
“No point, huh?” He cocked his head. “What’s your deal, Briar? Did you ever give a shit about her in the first place?”
David considered Philip, surprised at the disapproval in the other man’s voice. Philip dropped his gaze, jamming his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and digging the toe of his work boot into a patch of bared grass. He didn’t seem aware of what he was doing, creating a large divot before realizing and dragging the sod back in place. Lifting his head, he stared out at the horizon.
“That was out of line.” He turned to David. “I’m sorry. It’s just…” He shrugged, placing a hand on David’s shoulder. “I saw the way she looked at you that night. All I know is, I wouldn’t give up on a woman who looked at me that way without one hell of a fight.”
David’s mouth hung open dumbly, a low drone sounding from his inside breast pocket breaking the silence. Philip backed away.
“I’ll work something up over the weekend and send you a proposal early next week.”
David watched as the other man turned and headed toward the house, reeling from his unexpected and vehement advice.
Before Philip disappeared around the corner of the house, he lifted his arm in the air and, without breaking stride, called out into the darkening sky, “Answer your damn phone.”
Sighing, David got the cell out of his pocket.
“Dan,” he barked. “What the hell?”
“David.” Something was terribly wrong. “It’s Dad.”
Chapter 23
EPHIE leaned against the kitchen counter and brought the warm cup she held in both hands beneath her nose. Sniffing appreciatively, she tried to take comfort in the familiarity of her morning routine. Lillian and Griffin Bennett sat at the modest butcher-block table in front of her. Sections of the newspaper, various electronics, and a coffee service occupied the space between them.
Nevertheless, the couple managed to touch each other frequently—manicured nails trailing a muscled forearm, tanned fingers lingering over the elegant curve of a bared shoulder, fingertips meeting coyly before retreating to take up the handle of a coffee cup or turn a page—the graceful dance made more intimate because of its mundane setting. Effortless affection. She knew they’d had to compromise, each in their own way, but the reward seemed well worth it. If only David…
She stopped herself from completing the thought. David was who he was, and no amount of wishing was going to change matters. Wasn’t that exactly why they’d ended things when they had? Before it got any more complicated? Oh, but what she wouldn’t give for one more night in his arms.
At her deep sigh, Lillian glanced in her direction. Ephie mustered a bright smile, her breath catching in her throat until her overly perceptive employer returned her attention to her cell.
“Briar Funeral Home.” Griffin folded down the paper, looking over its top to address Lillian. “They handled my father’s funeral, didn’t they?”
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“Did you know the former director?”
Lillian lifted her gaze to Griffin.
“David’s father, Edward? Yes. He took care of things when my second hus—Why are you asking?”
“I’m sorry, Lillian. Edward Briar has passed away.”
“What?” Ephie cried, setting her mug down on the counter with a clatter which drew the couple’s attention as she rushed to the side of the table.
“I’m sorry,” Griffin repeated, his brows drawn with concern. He laid the paper flat so she could see. “I didn’t realize you knew the family.”
“I don’t. I mean…I know David, sort of. He’s in that class I’m taking,” she explained haphazardly, scanning the page.
One of the black-and-white photographs jumped out at her. The man pictured seemed eerily familiar, the polite smile which didn’t quite reach dark, world-weary eyes, sympathetic understanding lining the corners of the mouth. David very much favored his father, the recently deceased Edward Michael Briar.
Ephie skimmed the lengthy obituary. It focused on Mr. Briar’s work as a funeral director, with numerous references to his part in laying to rest the city’s most celebrated citizens, but David’s anguish lurked behind every precise word and clever phrase. By th
e time she reached the final section, the fingers she’d been skimming beneath the lines of text to keep her eyes on track had begun to tremble.
“Survived by…” she whispered. “Oh, David.”
“Griffin, make her sit.”
The edge of a cushion nudged the back of her knees, and Ephie sank down onto a chair.
“You have become close to him, no?”
Ephie looked up to find Lillian watching her carefully.
“Yes.”
“Intimate?”
“Jesus, woman! It is possible for people of the opposite sex to care about one another without sleeping together.”
Ephie turned to Griffin as he retook the seat beside her, bewildered by his impassioned outburst. Still looking at him, she answered Lillian with a nod.
“Christ!” He reached for the sport’s section. “Does she always have to be right?” He opened the paper with a crinkling shake, turning down a corner to offer, “I am sorry, about the father. David seems like a nice guy.”
After he’d escaped behind his screen of newsprint, Ephie looked to Lillian.
“I don’t know what to do.”
“Ah, what is there to do in these situations? Go. Be with him.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“Don’t be foolish.” She glanced down, swiping and tapping at her cell phone, before returning her attention to Ephie. “We can do without you for the day. Longer, if you wish.”
“I appreciate that, Lillian. But that’s not it. David and I…We broke things off.”
“When?”
“A couple of weeks ago.”
“But that is no time at all.” She picked up her coffee cup and took a sip, leaving a stark red lip print behind on the creamy rim. “It is a difficult time for a man, losing his father. And I am certain David would appreciate your support.”
The sound of Griffin turning a page drew both women’s attention. Keeping an eye on him as he read, Ephie leaned forward to mutter, “I don’t know. It might be better if I stayed away. Our parting, it was…um…complicated.”
“Partings usually are, no?”
Griffin lowered his paper at Lillian’s question, giving her a lazy-lidded stare. She countered with a smoldering smile, and for a fraction of a second, Ephie knew she had ceased to exist in their universe.
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