Still, he knew other people probably suspected it was more. And maybe it was.
It had only been two and a half months since he’d lost Molly—and since Bryn had lost her husband. But after long walks and heart-to-hearts, he sometimes felt he knew Bryn as well as he’d known his wife.
Was it so crazy to think he and Bryn might feel something for each other? If anyone understood what he was going through, Bryn did. Likewise, he empathized with her grief like no one else could. Theirs was a unique situation, and it only stood to reason that their timeframe for becoming more than friends would be different than the average grieving person.
They’d both felt free to talk about the marriages they’d had—both good, solid marriages, although from the things Bryn shared, it sounded like she and Adam had struggled more than he and Molly ever did.
Bryn didn’t like being alone and until she’d found a purpose in her work at the homeless shelter, she’d resented her husband’s hours. He hadn’t been crazy about Molly being gone for long stretches either, but even before he’d met Molly, he’d never minded being alone. He’d filled the days she worked an extended shift helping with school events, painting the apartment, and reading everything he could get his hands on.
He and Molly had only been married a year and a half. Maybe their time of discontent would have eventually come, the same as it had for Bryn and Adam. Bryn had told him that she never doubted she and Adam would have worked things out. “Everything I griped at him about seems so petty now,” she’d told Garrett one chilly night as they walked together. “I thought he was being possessive and controlling, but I see now that he was just trying to protect me. I wish I could go back and appreciate that more. I wish I’d told him . . .”
“I think he knows,” Garrett had said, trying to reassure her. He liked to think that he and Molly would have had a long and happy marriage had things been different.
He splashed water on his face, trying to rinse away the thoughts. He didn’t want to think about Molly. He wanted to think about the future. About Bryn.
The two of them talked about everything under the sun, but they’d skirted around the subject of their relationship. And he didn’t want to ruin things by bringing up something she might not be ready to talk about.
When he finished dressing he flipped on the TV and went to let Boss out of his makeshift kennel in the laundry room. In the background the meteorologist was saying something about school closings. “Hey, boy. We might get to stay home today.”
Boss cocked his boxy head and looked up at him as if trying to interpret what he’d said. Garrett scooped a cup of dog food from a plastic storage bin and poured it into the mixing bowl—the same one he’d presented Bryn with the night she’d brought Boss over. The night he and Bryn had started becoming friends.
He stopped in front of the TV and did a double take at the list of school closings scrolling by at the bottom of the screen. This storm must be amounting to more than they’d forecast. While he filled the coffeemaker with water, he kept one eye on the television screen.
There it was. Hanover Falls: no school district-wide.
Three months ago, the announcement would have made him and Molly whoop with joy. They would have crawled back into bed. They would have made love and fallen asleep in each other’s arms, relishing the rare chance to sleep in. Later they would have shared the newspaper over coffee and bagels and watched the snow pile up on the deck rail just outside the French doors, the way it was now.
He would curl up on the sofa in front of the fireplace with a good book, watching Molly putter around the house in her pajamas, her hair all wild around her angel face.
A wave of longing churned through him, so strong it made him nauseous. Bryn.
He shook his head. No. Molly. He’d started to get them mixed up in his mind: Bryn and Molly. It frightened him a little.
He went to see if the newspaper was on the front stoop. Boss left his breakfast and followed him through the foyer, toenails tapping on the wood floors in the entryway. The lid on his postal box bulged. He couldn’t remember when he’d last gotten the mail. Two days at least. He’d get it tonight. Or tomorrow. Since November’s avalanche of sympathy cards he had learned to avoid the mailbox until it couldn’t hold another envelope and the mail carrier started to complain.
Though it was seven a.m., the sky was almost black. A streetlight flickered, trying to decide whether it was morning or not. Giant wet flakes were illuminated in its glow, and though it was bitter cold, the wind was almost nonexistent. It reminded him of a morning last winter when he and Molly had skated on the frozen pond at Ferris Park.
Boss took a tentative step onto the snowy stoop. He tossed his head and caught a snowflake on his tongue. “Come on, buddy, do your business. It’s too cold to stand out here all day.” Boss obliged and trotted back inside. Garrett followed him and shut the door behind him, but as he turned, his gaze landed on the coatrack beside the door. Two pairs of skates hung over the pegs by their laces. The idea that formulated almost instantly filled him with joy.
He stomped the snow off his shoes and went back to the kitchen. Before he could change his mind, he picked up the phone and dialed Bryn’s number.
Her voice was drowsy.
“I woke you up, didn’t I? Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He heard something clatter on her end and pictured her groping for her glasses on the nightstand. “Is everything okay?”
“Do you have to work this morning?”
“Um . . . no. Not till this afternoon. Why?”
“What size shoes do you wear?”
“What? Garrett, you are making no sense. Are you even awake yet?”
He laughed. “Just answer the question.”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I wear an eight-and-a-half. Or sometimes a nine,” she mumbled.
“That’ll work.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Get up, get dressed—dress warm, in layers. And put on two pairs of socks.”
“What in the world is going on? Where are you?”
“I’ll pick you up in thirty minutes.”
“Huh? It’s Monday. Don’t you have school?”
“Look outside.”
“What?”
“Just haul your lazy bones out of bed and look out your window.”
He listened to the rustle of sheets and heard her groan as she crawled out of bed.
“Oh! It snowed! It’s beautiful!” Her voice held the same awe he’d felt when he first saw the fresh-fallen snow a few minutes ago.
“Coffee’s brewing as we speak. I’ll pick you up in half an hour.”
“But I’m not . . . my hair is a mess and I’m—”
“You’re gorgeous. And besides, nobody will see your hair. You’ll be wearing a stocking cap.”
“I will?”
“Yes, you will.”
“And where exactly am I going?”
“It’s a surprise. Seriously though, it’s cold out there. Dress warm. Layers.” He hung up before she could argue and chuckled at the certainty that she was arguing anyway, even as she hung up her own phone.
Rummaging in the coat closet, he found a couple of his old sweatshirts. He spread them out on the kitchen table and took scissors to the long sleeves, lopping them off to make sweaters for the dogs. Knowing Bryn, Sparky probably already had a nice doggy sweater, but he’d take them both just in case. That ought to be good for a laugh, trying to get those two mutts into sweatshirts.
He found the Thermos under the kitchen sink, rinsed it out, and poured in hot coffee from the carafe. He searched the cupboard for something edible and came up with a box of stale granola bars. He didn’t eat the things, but Molly had liked them, so maybe Bryn would, too.
In the hallway he pulled his ice skates and Molly’s white ones—his gift to her their first Christmas—from the coatrack. Guilt nipped at him, but a sense of excitement at being with Bryn again quickly replaced it.
“Come on, Boss
. Come on, boy. We’re going to see your buddy. Yeah, boy, we’re going to go see ol’ Sparky.”
Boss wagged his whole body in anticipation. Garrett loaded the breakfast things into his pickup, swept the snow off the windshields, then came back for Boss. He slipped the leash from its hook by the door and stooped to clip it to Boss’s collar.
He bent to scoop the dog under one arm, surprised by how muscular Boss had gotten. Tossing the skates over his shoulder, he threw off the last shreds of guilt, too. Molly was gone, and God had put Bryn in his life for a reason. Hadn’t he prayed for help, for a way to get through his grief? God had answered with a beautiful friendship. He refused to feel guilty for rejoicing in that divine provision.
She’d forgotten how much
she’d loved holding hands
with Adam. How safe and
loved it had made her feel.
16
Keeping one eye on the clock, Bryn slicked on lipgloss and ran a brush through her hair. A dark lock sprang back above her temple like a stubborn cowlick while the other side of her hair lay flat and lifeless against her skull. She twisted the mess into a low ponytail and tugged a bright orange knit stocking cap—one of Adam’s—over her head. She turned away from the mirror, not wanting to know how awful she looked.
In the garage, Sparky rose from the fleece nest bed she’d bought him and trotted to greet her. Poor dog. He looked fine, but it was cold enough out here that she could see her breath in front of her. He might get to sleep in the house tonight. While he went outside, she filled his dish and got him fresh water. He didn’t waste any time outside, and while he ate, she ran back into the house to gather her coat and gloves and to watch for Garrett.
He had something up his sleeve. Knowing him, he just wanted to play in the snow. She could see why Garrett was a good teacher. He was still a kid himself. It was a quality she’d loved about Adam, too.
She filed through a tangle of coat hangers in the hall closet looking for her hooded sweatshirt with the Southeast Missouri State logo on it. Not finding it, she settled for a light jacket to layer under her down coat and stuffed two pairs of gloves in her coat pockets. Standing on tiptoe, she scoured the top shelf of the hall closet for her favorite scarf, a thick red wool that had been Mom’s. Not finding it, she went to search her bedroom, but without success. It had probably fallen back behind the boxes of Christmas decorations and stuff she meant to take to Goodwill. She didn’t have time to dig for it now, but she’d clean the closet out this weekend. When had she last seen it? She hadn’t needed it with the recent warm weather, but she had to find it. The scarf was one of the few things she had of her mother’s.
She remembered Garrett’s black scarf that had hung in the laundry room since that day he’d loaned it to her at the riverwalk. She’d kept meaning to return it, and always forgot. She grabbed it now and looped it around her neck. She could “borrow” it again this morning and give it back to him when he brought her home.
The doorbell rang, and she opened it to an abominable snowman that looked a little like Garrett. She laughed and stooped to peer up under the hood of his jacket. “Is that you in there?”
Only his upper lip, nose, and those steel blue eyes peered out from the hood and the plaid flannel scarf around his throat and chin. But the eyes were smiling. “You ready?”
“I will be—as soon as you tell me what we’re doing.”
He looked over his shoulder to the street. “What do you think? It’s snowing. We’re going to go play in the snow.”
“Aha! I was right.”
“About what?”
“Never mind.” She peered over his shoulder to where his pickup was parked, the exhaust hovering over the street in a cloud. “Is Boss with you? You want me to bring Sparky?”
“Boss would never forgive me if you didn’t.”
“Okay. Hang on, I’ll get him.”
Sparky danced for joy while she tried to clip his leash to his collar.
Garrett opened the passenger door for her and a mellow country ballad wafted from the truck’s cab. Boss was perched on the front passenger seat like he owned the vehicle.
“Are we going far?”
“Nope. Just across town.”
“Okay. We’ll ride in the backseat. That might be easiest.”
Garrett didn’t argue, and Bryn nudged Sparky up onto the narrow bench seat and slithered in behind him. The cab was toasty warm, and outside the snow had turned the world into a sparkling vacuum. Garrett’s truck rolled almost soundlessly along the street, the engine muffled to a soft purr by the cushion of snow. Only the intermittent scrape of windshield wipers marred their silent cocoon.
Bryn inhaled through her nose, detecting only car exhaust and doggie breath—and the slightest hint of Garrett’s piney aftershave. Maybe it was from his scarf wrapped close around her throat, but he was close enough she could almost bury her nose in his shoulder. She pushed the image away lest she be tempted to act on it. “Hey, I don’t smell coffee. I thought you mentioned coffee. I can’t function till I’ve had my coffee.”
“Hold your horses . . .” Laughing, he reached to the floorboard and came up with an old-fashioned red plaid Thermos. He handed it back to her, then produced two clunky pottery mugs from the console. “You might want to blow the dog hair off of those before you pour.”
“You have that problem, too? How can one dog shed that much hair? It’s gross. My house is one big hairball.”
“Worth it, though.” Garrett patted Boss’s head. “Aren’t you, boy?”
Relief rushed through her veins again at the fact that Garrett had become so fond of Boss. That he hadn’t held it against her for bringing the dog to him that night.
She’d quit reading the papers, but around town, the news of the fire had died down. Though Garrett was tracking the investigation carefully and he’d told her that it was ongoing, there were apparently few clues since the damage had been so extensive. Whenever he started talking about the fire, she tried to change the subject. She was ready to move on. She wished the investigators would just close the files and be done with it.
The pickup fishtailed on the slippery street, and Bryn gripped the seat in front of her.
“Sorry about that.”
“That’s okay. I needed something to get my heart pumping this morning.” She blew out each cup and wiped the rims with her shirttail, grateful for the distraction. She hadn’t liked where her thoughts were taking her. Especially not in Garrett’s presence.
Balancing the mug between her knees, she loosened the cap of the Thermos. “Okay, I’m pouring. Try to keep the vehicle somewhere between the two ditches if at all possible.”
She filled a mug half full, breathing in the fragrant steam. Handing it over the seat to him, she met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Where are we going anyway?”
He raised his eyebrows mysteriously. “Patience. We’re almost there.”
She poured herself half a mug, and they sipped in silence for the next few blocks until Garrett slowed the truck and turned onto the lane that led to the old city park. “See that box on the floor beside you?”
“Yes?”
“Open it and see if those will fit. The white ones.”
She nestled her empty mug on the floor and slid the lid off the box to reveal two pairs of ice skates, a scuffed black pair, and a smaller white pair. Immediately she knew they were Molly’s. “I’ve never skated before, Garrett. At least not for a long time.” She watched him from her spot in the seat behind him, trying to gauge his response.
“I know. You said.”
Had she? She didn’t remember.
“I’ll teach you. It’s a good day to learn. The snow will cushion your fall.”
“Do I look like a klutz to you?”
He shrugged and ducked her playful backhand.
Smiling to herself, and not minding so much that the skates were Molly’s, she scooted to one end of the narrow bench seat and slipped one of her hiking boots off. Sparky eyed
her, his huge head cocked to one side.
She unlaced a skate and tugged it on. “They’ll work.”
“Good.”
She took the skate off and slipped back into her boot.
A few sledders had left scars on the hill on the east end of the park, but the rest of the park was a pristine sheet of snow. If not for the few inches of the posts that marked off the lane, they would have had a hard time finding the roadway. They located the pond only because of the dock jutting out of the snow.
Garrett put the truck in low and crept toward the water’s edge. “I’m not worried about the ice holding us, but I don’t want to test it with the weight of a pickup.”
He cut the engine and opened his door. Boss jumped onto his lap and sniffed the frigid air. Laughing, Garrett started to lower him into the snow. “Oh wait. I almost forgot.” He lifted him back onto his lap, shut the door, and reached under the seat again. “Here.” He handed what looked like a sweatshirt back to Bryn.
“What’s this?”
“For Sparky.”
She unfolded it and started laughing. “You’re going to make me put my dog in a Missouri State sweatshirt?”
“You have a problem with that?”
In reply, she burst into the fight song of her alma mater, Southeast Missouri State, stumbling over the words after the first bar.
Garrett laughed. “Too bad you don’t know the lyrics. But, sorry. I didn’t know. Here—” He pulled another sweatshirt from under the seat. “I’ll trade you. You have anything against Old Navy?”
“Not at all.”
“SEMO, huh? I never would have pegged you for a Southeast gal.”
“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You just don’t look like a Redhawk, that’s all.”
“Ha! Spoken like a true MSU Bear.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” She shot him a smug look.
She slung the offending sweatshirt at him and unfolded the Old Navy one. “Come here, Sparky. Let’s see if this contraption fits you.” She put the shirt over his head and lifted his paw, trying to stuff it into the cutoff sleeve. “Offensive logos aside, this was a pretty clever idea. Where’d you come up with it?”
HF01 - Almost Forever Page 13