But David looked sad. “It’s not the same. We use it as a replacement for contact, but it’s not.”
It didn’t matter anymore. I circled the center of town and removed my flyers from all the community boards. I said good-bye to the people I’d met over the summer, told them I’d be back next year, even though this probably wasn’t the truth. West Portsmouth was great, but it wasn’t real life. I’d likely return to Seattle and list the house again. With that price tag, it would sit on the market for months, if not years.
“Brett! Hey!”
I turned to see Mira running over to me, her curly hair bouncing around her head. I stopped so she could catch up. “Hi, Mira. What are you up to?”
“Going to the farmer’s market. Vaughan gave me a list.” She pulled a slip of paper out of the pocket of her sundress.
“I’m heading that way. I’ll walk with you.”
“It’s what you’re good at, right?” She grinned.
The West Portsmouth farmer’s market was held on the town green, near a scrap-metal sculpture of a shark in motion. You would think, based on the size and location of the sculpture, that sharks were significant in West Portsmouth. They weren’t. It was just a shark, made by a local artist. The farmer’s market was great, though. “What’s on your list?” I asked Mira. “I can help you find whatever you need.”
“I’ve got to pick up some specialty breads and fresh eggs. Vaughan is serving a large brunch on Sunday.”
That surprised me. “You have guests now?”
“A few. It’s been slow.”
We found some breads, and we were selecting zucchini squash when Mira said, “Is it true you were going to buy the inn?”
How to answer that one? “No, the inn isn’t for sale. I’d talked to Vaughan about buying her lease, that’s all.”
“You want to be an innkeeper?”
“Not exactly.” I lifted the squash she was holding from her hands and put it into a paper bag.
“I wish you would,” she said softly. “Vaughan’s been awful lately.”
“Oh?” But she didn’t elaborate.
We had moved on to an apiary booth and were selecting jars of honey when Mira said, “So. Are you and Mindy finished for good?”
I laughed drily. “You don’t mince words, do you?” She shrugged. “You should ask Mindy that. She seems to have moved on.”
Mira’s face scrunched. “Moved on? No, she hasn’t.”
“Oh, come on. She had an old friend over not even an hour after we broke up. Some guy I know she had feelings for.” The admission twisted in my gut.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about. I haven’t seen any guys coming over, and I’ve been hanging out with Mindy a lot.”
It took a moment for the remark to sink in. Was this true? I knew I should play it cool and change the subject, but all I wanted was to ask if Mindy ever said anything about me. That would be pathetic. Fortunately, Mira wasn’t finished. “You should go over and see her. She’s leaving next week.”
And I was leaving, too. That was the trouble. “Yeah. Maybe.”
I helped Mira find the rest of her groceries and then walked with her to the intersection of our separate paths home. “Thanks, Brett.” She gave me a one-armed hug because her other arm was weighed down with market bags. “Hopefully I’ll see you soon.”
She wouldn’t, and my heart felt heavy as we parted ways. I climbed down the cement stairs to the beach to walk on the sand. This was the longer route home, but I had time.
So I tried your people-walking experiment, David. I put down my cell phone and walked with strangers. I couldn’t say I’d found it satisfying. Yes, I’d had some pleasant conversations, and yes, I’d met some nice people around town. But it wasn’t like any of them had gotten to know me. It wasn’t like at the end of the summer, I was having friends over for dinner and cookouts. That’s because all you did was push people away. David’s voice again, and I knew he was right.
Anger wound through me. I didn’t push you away. You left me. You gave up on me. My brother and my best friend was gone. I let you in and you left. Kind of makes it hard to trust anyone again. I don’t know for how long I walked that stretch of beach, waiting for David to answer. But he never did.
I sat on the sand. The sun was warm and the beach was crowded, and I stood out among the bathers in my shorts and T-shirt. I watched children building sandcastles and adults sunbathing. Somewhere I heard a woman’s voice say, “You can sit here and choose to be miserable, or you can choose to be happy.”
I looked over. It was a young mother scolding a sulking child. “I don’t want to play with them!” the child said. “They’re not playing nice.”
The mother set the magazine she was reading in her lap. “Then play alone. But if you sit here and pout, you’re wasting this beautiful day and you’re only hurting yourself.”
I looked down at my feet covered in sand and I thought of Mindy and her visualization board and how she believed in synchronicity. The Universe will send you messages. But you need to listen.
I am an angry child, too. I rubbed at my face, scraping it with grains of sand still stuck to my fingers. Within a few minutes, the child rose and ran off to play with his friends again. He’d only needed a time-out and a reminder that the minutes he spent in anger were minutes he could have spent in joy. I sat there for a while longer, feeling the sun on my skin and listening to the sound of the waves lapping at the shore. I’d miss this place when I went home. Then I rose.
People came and went in life, and mostly I was okay with that, but there were times I wasn’t. I hadn’t wanted David to leave. I didn’t want Lisa and my friends back home to leave. And Mindy. I’d wanted her to stay, too. I’d thought that she would.
I went back to the house, but I didn’t start packing. Instead, I did something I hadn’t done in ages. I called my dad. “Hey. It’s me,” I said when he answered.
“Brett. Good to hear from you.”
Dad sounded like he meant it. “You too. It’s good to hear your voice.” I sat on the couch and set my feet up. “Dad, I think I messed up.”
I told him about Mindy, and how I’d lied to her. He didn’t speak much, just listened. “She didn’t even want to hear me out when I tried to explain.”
“You think you were justified in lying to her?”
When he put it that way … “No. I was going to tell her the truth. Eventually. I was working up to it.”
My head was in my hand, my gaze directed at the floor. Why was I calling my dad about woman problems, exactly? I hadn’t come to him in years. “Never mind, Dad. I know you’re busy—”
“Brett, this is important to me. You’re important to me.”
I felt a weight rising from my shoulders, the shifting of a burden. “So what do I do?”
“Do you love her?”
“Yes.”
I didn’t even have to stop to think about it. I loved her. I loved her smile and her quirks, like eating cereal out of the box while sunbathing. I loved her cooking and the way she kissed and the perfume she wore behind her ears. “I’m happy when I’m with her. I met her and I started feeling … human again. I felt like I could function. She makes life better.”
“Then you have to be with her,” Dad said simply.
“Yeah, but … how?”
“Apologize. Grovel. Buy her a puppy. Women like puppies.”
He sounded so certain. “It’s not that simple—”
“It is that simple. If she loves you the way you love her, it’s simple.”
That’s exactly what David would have said. He was always telling me that I liked to make things complicated. I leaned back against the couch and stared up at the ceiling. “Thanks, Dad. I’m glad I called.”
“Let me know how it goes.”
“I will.”
We talked for a few more minutes before disconnecting the call. Then I sat back and I thought about how I was going to repair my life. One thing was for sure: Mindy might lea
ve me, but I wasn’t going to be the one to leave her.
CHAPTER 20
MINDY
THE SOCIAL WORKER at Nana’s nursing home had invited me in for a meeting to discuss my grandmother’s discharge. I wanted to spend a day getting Nana’s house ready for her: airing out the rooms and cleaning up what little dust might have settled, so I scheduled the meeting for two days before the day she was to be released, thinking that this meeting would be no big deal. Mistake.
The social worker’s name was Carly, and she had an office that had to be a joke. There were picture frames all over the desk, about twenty potted plants on the windowsill, give or take a dozen, and piles of manila folders everywhere. I froze in the doorway when I saw it, but Carly smiled and said, “Have a seat. And would you mind closing the door behind you?”
It took a little maneuvering, but I managed to get comfortable in one of the maroon visitors’ chairs. Carly lifted a folder from a pile, pushed aside some clutter on her desk surface, and said, “So you’re Jai’s granddaughter?”
“Yes.”
Carly opened the manila folder and traced her finger along the papers. “And I see we have the right forms, so I can talk to you.” She looked up. “Always good to double-check.”
Nana had signed some paperwork to allow me to receive confidential health information. I smiled politely and folded my hands in my lap. My fingernails were bright teal, so naturally I was feeling confident.
“She speaks highly of you.”
I wished Carly would cut the small talk. “Is everything all right? Is this about the plan for her discharge?”
She kept the folder open. “Yes. I understand she intends to move back home.”
“Yes. She’s in the walking cast now, so it should be fine.”
“I have some concerns about that.” Carly flipped through the folder again. “Your grandmother has had some episodes where she’s exhibited confusion.”
I sucked in a breath. This was what I’d feared. “Confusion? Like how?”
“I’m afraid she’s exhibiting some signs of cognitive decline. She asks for people— Let’s see.” Her finger panned down a page. “Elliott?”
My heart sank. “My grandfather.”
“Is he … around?”
“No. He died.”
“That’s what we thought. She will forget that she’s had a dose of her medication, or she’ll ask if you’re visiting after you’ve left.” Carly closed the folder. “Normally we would move someone like your grandmother to a unit where she could exercise more independence, but she doesn’t seem ready for that. So I have to ask you if Jai will be living alone when she leaves here.”
I thought about the groceries all over the house and the open door. My throat tightened. “That was the plan. But I think you’re telling me that this should change?”
Carly pressed her lips into a sympathetic smile. “I’d recommend she have someone living with her, or full-time nursing care.”
I rested my forehead in my hand. The obvious answer was to have Nana move in with my parents, but my grandmother had strong feelings about her home. “She loves where she lives. She doesn’t want to leave her home.” Poor Nana. I thought of all of the pictures in her hallway, the memories that were almost palpable. “That house is her life.”
Carly kept that tight-lipped smile on her face. “I understand. We have a lot of patients who feel that way. But we can’t jeopardize her health, and I know you don’t want to put her in danger, either. As it is, we can’t be sure that she will take her medication properly. Now.” She straightened her posture. “We have a sister facility that would be perfect for your grandmother. She will have her own living space, but we prepare meals, and all medications are delivered by nursing staff. Here’s some information.” She pushed a brochure across the desk. How convenient.
“I need to talk about this with my parents,” I said. They had recently gotten home from their visit with Michael, and they were supposed to be coming in a couple of days to help me move Nana home. Change of plans. “Have you discussed this with my grandmother?”
“Not yet. If she’s not receptive, you may want to consider filing an application for conservatorship. Here’s some paperwork about that.” She handed me another brochure. “I can help you with that.”
“Conservatorship?” I mumbled.
“That’s when the probate court determines that a person is incompetent to make decisions for herself,” Carly explained a bit cheerfully. “I think your grandmother is a perfect candidate.”
Ugh, I hadn’t come there to talk about that. I stuffed the brochures in my handbag. “Thanks for the information. Like I said, I need to speak with my parents.” I rose.
“If they have any questions, you feel free to call me.” Carly stood and extended her hand, which I accepted numbly. “Nice to meet you. Thanks for coming in.”
“You too. I mean, thanks.” I couldn’t get out of that claustrophobic office quickly enough.
When I left the office, I started crying. I’d told my grandmother I was going to visit, but I couldn’t allow her to see me like this. She’d only ask questions, and I didn’t want to tell her that she wasn’t going home after all. I was in my car, about to leave, when my cell phone rang. Nana. I debated letting it go to voice mail, but I picked it up on the third ring. “Hi, Nana.”
“Are you here? I thought you were coming in.”
“No, there was a change of plans. Something happened at the inn.”
“You’re sitting in your car. I’m watching you.”
I looked up. Indeed, I had parked outside of Nana’s room and she was staring at me through the window. Damn. “Come inside,” she said. “There’s an emergency.” Then she hung up on me.
I flung my cell phone into my handbag and climbed out of the car. I knew in my heart that Carly was probably right about Nana’s cognitive decline or whatever, but she was still pretty sharp. I reentered the nursing home and headed down the floral-patterned hallway to her room. “Yes, Nana?” I sighed. “What’s the emergen—”
I froze. Nana was sitting on the edge of her bed, watching the doorway. That wasn’t what shocked me. Brett was standing behind her, holding a bouquet of wildflowers. “You two need to talk it out,” she said, and rose to her feet. “I’m going to lunch.”
BRETT
MINDY LIT up the room. She was wearing a pink dress that fell to her ankles, only suggesting her figure. My breath hitched the same way it did when I caught a glimpse of something beautiful and rare. Jai had barely left before I said, “God, I missed you.”
Her features softened and then hardened again. “Brett. Why?” She covered her face with one hand, the bracelets on her wrist jangling. “You’re making this more difficult.”
I set the flowers down on the bed and rushed to her side. That wasn’t what she was supposed to say. “Mindy. I’m so sorry.” I’d rehearsed my speech a hundred times, but I’d forgotten it all in the moment. “You— I should’ve told you everything. I haven’t let people in, and you’re right. And you can hate me if you want—”
“Hate you?” She was crying. “I love you. That’s the problem.”
She was looking away again. I held her arms and tried to meet her gaze. “The problem? No, it’s not a problem. I love you, too. Look at me.” Her beautiful, teary eyes turned up to mine. “I came to this town a broken man. You brought sunlight into my life. You inspired me. You made me feel hopeful again.”
“But you’re leaving,” she sputtered, trying to hold back a sob. “I’m staying here and you’re moving back to Seattle. How is that going to work?”
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “But I know that we have to figure it out, because I love you, Mindy Ling. I have been in hell ever since you left. And if you want to leave me, I get it. If you don’t want to make it work, okay. But I won’t ever leave you. I won’t be the one to walk away without giving this a chance.”
She flung her arms around me, feeling perfect against my chest. I buried
my face in her soft, dark hair. “How could I say no to you?” she said, her voice muffled by my shirt.
“I was hoping you wouldn’t.” She laughed at that.
I lifted her chin and kissed her, softly at first, and then like I might lose her forever. “You are the person in my life who can’t leave,” I said, and pressed my forehead to hers. “You are the one I can’t live without.”
“I know. We’re soul mates.” She set her hand on my cheek. “You were right, you know. I did care about the money. I was wrong.”
I placed my hand over hers and thought that I could look at her all day. “I don’t know what I was thinking, coming in to try to buy the lease from Vaughan. I should’ve told you about that. It was a mistake.”
“Are we going to argue again about who was more at fault?”
“No, because it was definitely me.”
She smiled and it was so beautiful that I kissed her again. She broke away. “But you should know there are problems. With Nana. And Vaughan’s girls. I still haven’t given up on any of it.”
I pulled her into my arms, where she belonged. “I knew you wouldn’t.”
EPILOGUE
MINDY
September
ON A BRIGHT late summer afternoon, Nana came home. Mom and Dad were there to help her unpack her suitcases. “I can’t get over how clean your house is,” Mom said as Brett and I helped Nana up the front steps.
“I would hope so,” I said. “I spent hours cleaning it.”
“You? Mindy, I’m impressed.”
I just smiled and said, “Nana’s worn off on me.”
It had taken a few extra days, but I’d convinced Carly that Nana could safely return to her home. No conservatorship, no assisted living. Joss was only too happy to quit her position with Vaughan and live with Nana while attending nursing classes. “It’s great experience,” she said, “and I love your grandmother.” And of course I would be checking in on Nana frequently now that I’d be moving into Brett’s guesthouse.
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