“Don’t you mean I was the weirdo who’d never have fit in here?”
“Of course not.” Linda rubbed one temple. “You disappointed all your old friends when you left and never visited us. Especially Ann.”
“Ha. You’ve got to be kidding.” Bree hated herself for asking about Ann, but she had to know. “How’s she doing?”
“Your mother hasn’t kept you up to date?”
“No. Why should she? Besides, I never asked.”
Sarah had leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. Was she napping or listening?
“Ann—well, she’s still Ann. Been married five times.”
Bree couldn’t believe that news of Ann could still make her heart feel like a ripe tomato someone had just squeezed.
“Five times? Wow. Sounds like Liz Taylor. Or those Kardashians.”
Linda smiled with what looked like sympathy. Did she know what had gone on between Ann and her? She’d been so young back then, barely a teenager.
“Yes. And she’s still beautiful, in her special blond-haired, blue-eyed way.”
The news squeezed Bree’s heart harder. “Has she lived here all this time?” She didn’t really want to know where Ann had lived, but she couldn’t stop asking questions.
“No. She’s jumped around from New Orleans to Atlanta and New York.”
Linda’s factual tone helped Bree digest the news she’d avoided for so many years.
“She usually comes back home between husbands,” Linda added.
“Really? So where does she live now?” Questions kept on popping into her mind.
“Here. At the old home place. She’s having it remodeled.”
“Currently not married, eh?” Bree couldn’t tamp down the excitement rising in her belly, though she knew she was just making herself vulnerable to more disappointment. You’d think she’d have learned something over so many years, but apparently not.
She opened her mouth, about to ask something else about Ann, but Linda turned to Sarah. “So, Mrs. Principal, how about you? Is your leg feeling better?”
Sarah stretched her right leg out, and Linda dropped to her knees in front of her like the teenager Bree remembered always hanging around when she visited Ann. Pushing up Sarah’s pants leg, Linda began to unwrap the dressing that covered the entire calf.
Bree stared at it and gasped. “My God. I had no idea how badly you’d hurt yourself. It looks like somebody hacked all the skin off with a meat cleaver! Why aren’t you in the hospital?”
Linda glanced up at her, her eyes soft. “It looks worse than it is. I’ve been dressing it every day, and it’s improving.”
“Are you crazy? She needs a doctor’s care. That bandage is bloody. And those bruises—Who’s her doctor? I’m calling him right now.”
“Calm down, Bree.” Linda removed the bloody dressing, which made Bree nauseous. “He treated her in the emergency room and dismissed her. Carolyn takes her to see him regularly.” She smiled up at her patient. “Her leg should improve in several weeks. Especially if she keeps using her walker.”
Sarah glanced at them and hung her head.
Bree jumped up. “I’m not so sure about that. I still intend to talk to that doctor myself and make sure my mother’s receiving the right care.”
Sarah straightened and stared at her. “That’s enough, Bree. You need to go home and get some sleep.”
“But—”
“Linda’s taking good care of me, and I’m tired of listening to you fuss over me. Hurry up. I want to work on my painting.”
“All right.” Bree strode over to the door. “When you two finish, Linda, I’ll meet you in the hall and walk you out.”
Frustrated, she waved to Sarah as she left the room. “I’ll let you get on with your painting. See you later today.”
She was fed up with her mother regarding her as a child.
Chapter Two
Linda had had a hard time focusing on Mrs. Principal with Bree still in the room. Strange how fifty years of experience could vanish in a few minutes and she could revert to being a tongue-tied freshman.
At least Bree had remembered her, though she’d seemed so much more eager to talk about Ann than about her. But why should Bree notice her—her friend’s unexciting younger sister who’d never excelled in anything?
Mrs. Principal interrupted Linda’s musing. “She hasn’t changed all that much, has she?”
Linda secured the new bandage on Mrs. Principal’s leg. “No. She’s as tall and thin and impatient as always, don’t you think?”
Mrs. Principal chuckled. “Yes. And still a know-it-all, if you let her. I’ve always thought of her as all lines and not enough color.”
Linda smoothed down Mrs. Principal’s pants leg and returned her supplies to her bag. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Of course you do. You’re an intelligent, educated woman. And I’ve told you—call me Sarah instead of Mrs. Principal. You haven’t been my student in more than fifty years.” Mrs. Principal—no—Sarah shook her head.
Linda closed her bag with a snap that seemed to fragment the past. As a medical professional, a specialist, no less, she had no business letting her memories of an eighteen-year-old hotshot or her sixth-grade art teacher awe her like they just had.
“Thanks, Sarah. I’ll do just that. And I’ll think about what you said about Bree’s lines and color.” She stood up. “Take care of yourself and enjoy your painting. The one you’re working on should be as impressive as all these others.” She glanced around the room. “See you tomorrow morning. Same time, or as close to it as we can manage.”
Sarah smiled briefly. “’Bye, Linda. Enjoy your visit with Bree.”
Linda waved. “Thanks.” She didn’t look forward to dealing with Bree, but the prospect intrigued her.
*
Linda spotted Bree standing near the receptionist’s desk perusing a pamphlet. The overhead light glinted off the silver streak in the bangs of her blunt-cut black hair. Still naturally dark or artificially colored by a talented stylist?
Linda strode toward Bree, nervous. She’d dealt with patients’ families for years. This one was no different.
“What’s the deal with Sarah? Will she really be okay?”
Bree’s demanding tone and frown could have stopped a train, but Linda kept moving. Family members usually considered doctors the only ones who knew anything. And they often transferred their own fear or guilt onto nurses or aides.
Grasping Bree’s elbow briefly, she steered her outside to a private spot. “Assisted-living facilities thrive on gossip even more than most small-town churches and beauty shops do.”
As they sat down on a secluded bench, Bree put a distance between them. “Nice day,” she said, her shoulders dropping a fraction after they’d sat in silence for a few seconds.
“Yes.” Linda lassoed her internal butterflies and let their momentum guide her. “Don’t worry. Your mother’s leg should heal completely.” She wanted to rest a hand on Bree’s knee or otherwise touch her again, but something stopped her natural inclination.
“It looks like someone dragged her down an asphalt road. I had no idea.” Bree’s voice sounded as steely as her silver streak looked. “Are you certain I shouldn’t put her in the hospital instead of depending on an aide like you to bandage her wounds?”
The professional in Linda trumped the high-school freshman. “You think I’m just an aide, Bree?”
“Of course. Aide, nurse. What’s the difference? Don’t you people practically run these places? Cuts down on the costs, I’m sure.”
“That’s possibly true, but I’m a retired professional, working for your mother as a favor.”
Bree tossed her head. “If I thought I could find somebody reliable, I’d hire a couple of qualified nurses to stay with her at home around the clock. But she didn’t consult me.”
“Really? Well, you couldn’t afford to employ me in that capacity, but I’d assumed you helped her decide to make this move.�
�
“No.”
Linda took a deep breath. Bree seemed more hurt than angry.
“She just called me yesterday and told me her whereabouts, and why.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” That explained the anger and guilt. “But don’t take it personally. At least she finally called you.”
Bree frowned. “I’m glad I have a lot of unused vacation time.”
Linda picked at a fleck of paint on the arm of the bench where they sat. Bree was obviously out of control, and Linda had to stop herself from touching her. If Ann were here, she might make Bree feel better with a hug or even a kiss. “You know how proud she is. She didn’t want to worry you.”
Bree bristled. “Worry me? Of course she worried me. And now to see her in a place like this, with people like you taking care of her—”
Linda gripped the bench’s metal arm and kept her voice calm. “People like me? Just a minute, Bree. I’m an RN, a wound-care specialist.”
Yet Bree kept scowling, as if she either hadn’t heard what Linda said or didn’t care. She seemed almost as upset as she’d been that long-ago day Ann had started dating the star football player she eventually married.
Linda took a chance and gripped Bree’s arm, which didn’t feel much different from the metal one she clung to with her other hand. “Listen to me. Didn’t you hear what I said? I’m as much a specialist in my field as you are in yours, with almost as much experience.”
When Bree became emotional like this, she lost her power of reasoning.
You have to choose between me and that football player, Bree had screamed at Ann.
Linda would never forget overhearing that argument.
But now Bree’s gray eyes looked like dry ice as she slowly swung her head toward Linda. “Are you kidding me? I spent years in some of the best universities in the country to reach my position. Where did you do your training? At a local community college?”
Bree obviously hadn’t matured emotionally since high school, and Linda still didn’t know how to respond to her, to help her through such an extreme reaction. She pulled her hand away from Bree’s arm and clung to the cool metal support to steady herself. She could do this.
Taking an even deeper breath, she chose her words carefully. “In the ’70s I lived near DC and got my master’s at the Johns Hopkins University School of Nursing. I already had a BS from one of your alma maters—UT Austin. I’m fully certified to give your mother the best care possible.”
Bree’s eyes finally lost a little of their steam. “Really? Interesting. I didn’t realize you’d ever left this area.”
Good. At least she’d made a little progress. Linda nodded. “Yes, I did. I wanted to see the world too.”
Bree shrugged and let the straight line of her back bend a bit. “What made you become a nurse?”
Linda sighed. Maybe Bree would finally calm down. “I wanted to do something that made a difference.”
Bree’s eyes seemed to melt a fraction. “I owe you an apology. So I don’t need to worry so much about Sarah? She’ll really heal okay?”
“Yes. She will. I’ll take good care of her.” Linda glanced at her watch and got up. “So good to see you, Bree. I have another appointment, but surely we’ll run into each other again.”
“Sure. ’Bye now.” Bree grinned mechanically, exactly like she had at eighteen. Then she stood and strolled toward her car as if nothing had happened between them.
Linda slid into her little Honda, exhausted and relieved to have survived that uncomfortable encounter. Evidently, nothing about Bree had changed except her age.
Chapter Three
Remembering her mother’s empty refrigerator, Bree stopped by Kroger and stocked up on basic necessities to snack on or prepare quickly. She didn’t like to waste her time in the kitchen, but she was starving.
After she finished lugging her brimming bags of groceries into the kitchen and restocking the fridge and the pantry, she heard someone at the back door. Only one person knocked like that. “Coming,” she called.
And she was right. There stood Carolyn, her arms open wide for a welcome hug. Carolyn, who had lived next door to her parents as long as Bree could remember, was the only person in town Bree had kept in touch with all these years.
Stepping into Carolyn’s arms, she sighed with relief, then finally backed away. “Thanks for helping Sarah through the big move.”
Carolyn held up her hands and shook her head.
“Don’t deny it. She couldn’t have done it without you.”
“She made me promise not to call you.” Carolyn draped an arm around Bree and guided her to the back-porch swing.
Bree gazed at the willow tree with its drooping branches. “You don’t need to explain. She keeps her feelings wrapped around her as tight as the bark on that old tree.”
“Yep. She’s an independent old cuss.”
Carolyn tightened her grip on Bree and pulled her close again. “But let’s talk about you. How was your flight?”
“Predictable.” She squeezed Carolyn’s liver-spotted hand. “Too crowded and no food.” She frowned. “I’d kill for the days of empty seats and edible meals and enough legroom to stretch out. It’s so bad now I’m tempted to retire.”
Carolyn laughed. “They didn’t feed you between O’Hare and DFW?”
Bree stood up and stuck out her lower lip like she had as a child. “Nothing edible. And I didn’t see anything but fast-food places on my drive from Dallas. Then I rushed over to visit Sarah first thing this morning.”
“We’ll have to take care of that.” Carolyn levered herself up from the swing.
Bree grinned. “When I finally thought about eating, I remembered nobody can make an omelet like you can.” Surely Carolyn would take the bait, and the wait would surely be worth it.
Carolyn wrapped her arm around Bree’s waist. “Now there’s the Bree Principal I know and love. Didn’t take long for you to finagle me into cooking for you. How about a vegetable one?”
Bree held up both hands dramatically. “I thought you’d never ask. Sounds fabulous.”
They both laughed and walked through the back door side by side. It actually felt good to be home.
*
Bree finished her omelet and orange juice. “God, how delicious. You’re the world’s greatest neighbor and cook.” She batted her eyelids in her best Southern-belle imitation. “I declare. Why couldn’t you have been gay? I’d have enticed you to come be my partner in Chicago.”
“And made me miss the chance to live with my parents in this idyllic small town?” Carolyn gestured for Bree to stay seated while she rinsed her dishes.
Bree scowled. “Didn’t you want a life of your own? I’d have gone nuts after a week.”
Carolyn finally sat down across the kitchen table from her and poured them each a cup of strong black coffee. “I did have a life of my own.” Carolyn frowned. “I couldn’t help it that both my husbands turned out to be unfaithful bums.”
Bree didn’t know what to say. Was Carolyn still bitter about her divorces?
Carolyn grinned. “Look at me. Who wouldn’t want to see me first thing every morning?”
Bree studied Carolyn’s height and rather horsey, asymmetrical features. She didn’t see anything unattractive about her, but she’d never been able to convince Carolyn to believe her. She reached across the table and laced her fingers through Carolyn’s. “You know I’m one of your biggest admirers. You should have kept looking till you found a man worth your while.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“I know.”
“Did I mention I’m glad you’re home?”
Bree let go of Carolyn and traced a line on the kitchen table with her finger. “I never thought I’d say this, but I am too.”
They sat in comfortable silence. Finally, Bree said, “Guess who I was reminiscing about on my way to visit Sarah.”
“No telling. Who?” Carolyn’s eyes shone as she lifted her pottery mug to her lips
.
“Ann White. I hadn’t thought about her in forever. And then at Silverado this morning, I heard she’s back in town. Is that right?”
Carolyn took a sip of the steaming liquid, then slowly lowered her mug and nodded. “As a matter of fact, I saw her out at Wild Iris just the other day.”
“Wild Iris? What’s that?” So Ann really was here. That meant she wasn’t married, for now.
“It’s the in place in town, out on the highway. A trendy flower and gift shop right in the same building with this great little lunch and take-out café. We’ll have to go there sometime.”
“Huh?” Bree couldn’t remember what she’d asked Carolyn, much less process her answer. “Oh, sure.”
“Are you okay?” Carolyn stared at her. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I have,” Bree murmured, still trying to absorb the news about Ann.
Carolyn cupped the back of one ear. “What’d you say? I haven’t put my hearing aids in yet.”
“Oh, nothing.” She’d been so upset about her mother earlier she’d pushed Linda’s news about Ann being in town aside. But now it roared back. Had she just received a second chance with the one woman who’d ever meant anything to her?
Bree couldn’t think about much of anything but Ann during the rest of her conversation with Carolyn. But she finally got her head on straight again as they walked out into the backyard. “By the way, do you know Linda White, Ann’s little sister?”
Carolyn stopped and stared at Bree. “You mean Linda Morton? Of course. We’re both master gardeners and see each other a lot around town. Why?”
“She’s the one dressing Sarah’s leg. And Sarah made sure I met her this morning.”
“Why, that old fox.”
“Who’s an old fox?”
“Your mother. Who else?”
“What do you mean?”
“Linda’s one of the most interesting women in town. Plus, she’s a fabulous cook and a pillar of her church and the community.”
Autumn Spring Page 2