by Leia Stone
I tell her to meet me at Tlaquepaque. I don't know when I'll be willing to leave my house again, so I might as well make it count.
I'm standing in front of my mirrored dresser, arranging a ponytail at the crown of my head, when Owen walks in. He's freshly showered, his hair damp.
He wears only shorts, and the sight of his strong shoulders, the V-shape of his body as it narrows to his waist, makes me acutely aware of my pulse. He walks up behind me and I turn in to him. My palms run the length of his chest, up his shoulders and down his arms. "Too bad I don't have more time," I murmur.
He raises an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge, because I can be fast.”
My deep throaty laugh follows me out to the hallway. “Call me if my mom wakes!” I call over my shoulder.
Turning, I see Owen frowning like a puppy dog, “So, no to the quickie?”
If sex were an Olympic sport, Owen and I would win a gold medal.
"This place is stunning," Livvie says appreciatively, looking up at the Tlaquepaque architecture. "People keep telling me I need to come here, but I never got around to it because I spend all my time sitting in that musty old bookstore. I've been missing out."
Her enthusiasm makes me happy. "It's my favorite place in Sedona."
"I can see why."
"So," I begin, "is it too early for Mexican food? I know you woke up about an hour ago, and they don't have breakfast items. There's a little cafe, too. It probably has more breakfast-type items."
"Breakfast," Livvie instructs.
I take Livvie through the village toward the cafe. She spends most of our walk looking around, stopping to point out brightly-patterned tiles when they appear on the sides of the buildings, or the ornate iron work. She's as taken with this place as I am.
We step through an ivy-covered archway and into the square where the Secret Garden Cafe sits. "There," I point.
"Of course it's adorable," she says, throwing up a hand. Her gaze moves left as we walk toward the restaurant, eyes roving over to an empty store.
"An empty space. Hmmm…" She drums her fingers against her lower lip. "Interesting."
"What about it?" I ask as we step into the cafe. We're seated at a table for two outside, under a tree. We're in direct view of the empty storefront with the For Lease sign.
Livvie orders a cappuccino, and I ask for water. I've had enough coffee for today. She leans forward, her hands clasped on the menu lying on the table.
"Look at how packed this place is. Way more foot traffic." Her eyes squint, one corner of her mouth stretching toward her cheek.
I'm starting to feel like she's talking in riddles. "What are you getting at, Livvie?"
"My gran’s bookstore has so few customers I've considered taking off my clothes and standing naked in the window. I wouldn't have to do that if my bookstore were, gee I don't know, here."
"Great idea," I tell her, sipping at the ice water that's just been set in front of me. "You could get a little espresso machine and even have a live poetry reading or stand-up comedy thing."
My marketing hat is on and I have to rein in the ideas or I’ll go overboard.
Livvie’s eyes light up. “Yes. Yes. And Yes.”
“You should call the number on the sign,” I encourage her. I know how much it means to her to save her grandma’s family store.
She grabs her phone and dials. I love her East Coast get-it-done attitude. If there was anything I learned to like while I lived out there, it was their tendency to make things happen. No hemming or hawing in NYC.
Which makes me think of Jeanne. After my mom collapsed while I was talking to Jeanne, I sent her a text the next day telling her that my mom had taken a turn for the worse and I wasn't going to be available to speak. I said that I'd call her if I ever changed my mind. I've already told her no, but she thinks I'll capitulate, and I'm not sure how to make her see otherwise.
Livvie begins talking into her phone, and I turn my attention to her side of the conversation.
"…great, and what's the monthly rent?" The tip of her tongue slides out of her mouth, resting on the center of her upper lip as she listens. "Please send all the information to my email. I'll go through it and get back to you."
She hangs up the phone at the same time our server approaches our table. Beaming up at him, she says, "Two glasses of champagne, please."
My eyebrows narrow in confusion. "Champagne?"
Livvie nods. "We’re celebrating. I can't run the bookstore anymore. You have a lot going on with your mom, and I didn't want to text you so I've been waiting to tell you everything in person."
"Tell me what? And why are we celebrating you not running the store?"
Did something bad happen?
"Jeff loves Phoenix!” she squeals. “Like, really loves it.”
“Yay!” I feel her happiness soak into me as it’s the first positive thing I’ve heard all week.
“Sedona," she makes a bare-teeth face, "not so much. Too New Age for him. I think it was all those crystal shops on Main Street. Then he heard about the vortexes and it sealed the deal."
A burst of disbelieving laughter shoots from between my pursed lips. "That's understandable. It's not for everyone."
"Oh, thank you," Livvie purrs at the server, her excitement hardly contained as she takes the champagne flute from him. I grab my own and mimic Livvie's lifted glass.
"To newly leased spaces," she declares, and I laugh because it's nowhere near a done deal and we're celebrating it anyway. I bring the glass to my lips, pausing when I realize Livvie's not finished. "And," she adds, her eyes twinkling mischievously, "to the new store manager. My best friend in Sedona … Autumn Cummings."
I'm already taking a drink when I realize what she's said. I sputter, the bubbles burning my throat. "What did you just say?" I cough out the words.
She smiles so wide I see her molars. "You heard me. You need a job and I need you. So, what do you think?"
I shake my head slowly, the burning sensation in my throat now just a simmering heat. “I don't understand…"
"Jeff wants to live in Phoenix. I'm thrilled he likes it here, that he's willing to move, but I'm not ready to give up my grandma's store. So…" She gestures to me with her flute. "That's where you come in. You need a job, right?"
I nod, still stunned. I’d love to run my own store, and Livvie would let me practically do anything so long as I kept everything nice and made a profit.
"And given your background, you could make this store everything it should be. And in a location like this?" She points one finger in the air, swirling it around to indicate the entire village of Tlaquepaque. "You'll kill it. Espresso machine, live poetry readings, all of it."
I capture the side of my lower lip and bite down gently. "It is my favorite place, and I do have a lot of ideas for the store."
"See?" Livvie throws down a fist on the wrought-iron table top, causing the silverware to rattle. "Imagine coming to work here. You said it yourself, it's your favorite place in Sedona."
"I can tell you used to be a salesperson," I say, and our server approaches the table again. This time we order food instead of asking for more champagne.
"So?" Livvie asks, her eyes excited. "What's it going to be?"
What's there to think about? I need a job. And managing a bookstore sounds like a job I'd like. I can put my marketing background to work by organizing themed days. Story times. Character parties. Author visits. My mind floods with ideas and adrenaline flows through me. It's been so long since I felt this way. Since I left New York.
"I'll do it."
Livvie claps twice. "Good. Also, I didn't tell you, but I'd like to bring you in as a fifty-fifty partner. That way you don't feel like an employee. You have some skin in the game."
Tears sting the backs of my eyes.
Marzipan.
I don't want to cry. I've cried so much lately, it's exhausting.
"I'm in. Thank you." I raise my flute and toast. "I'm very happy I stumbled upon you in a bookstore an
d offered you wine and fudge."
"Technically, you offered me soap and olive oil."
I laugh, but this time I manage not to choke on the champagne. We finish lunch, and Livvie promises to call me as soon as she reads through the documents the leasing company is sending to her.
We part ways with a hug, and as I climb into my mom’s car, her scent overtakes the happiness vibrating through me.
I hate what has been forced upon her, upon us.
The tears I didn't spill with Livvie come out now.
Chapter 27
Owen
"Faith?" I push open her door a little further and stick my head in. When I'd first cracked the door, I saw her eyes flutter open, but they're closed again.
"I'm awake," she says, her voice so low I barely hear her.
"How are you feeling?" I stride to her bedside. The fluffy duvet shrinks her, making her look even smaller than she is.
"Just keep the drugs coming," she says, cracking a tiny smile.
I check my watch to see if we're close to her next dose. Nope. Still an hour away, but if she wants it, I'll give it to her now. It's not like it will hurt anything, and the goal right now is to keep her free of physical pain. There's nothing I can do for mental and emotional pain, but Faith seems as steady as always. I wonder if she ever breaks down when she's alone?
"What are you and Autumn up to today?" Faith asks, struggling to sit up. I lean over her bed, pulling together pillows that have spread out, creating a soft wall for her to lean against.
"Autumn's making you a smoothie right now, and—"
Faith grimaces.
"Nothing green, I promise. Strawberry mango banana. Your favorite." I'm almost positive Autumn's adding a little protein powder, but I don't need to tell Faith. Taking a seat on the edge of bed, I lean my elbows on my knees, tucking steepled hands under my chin. "I think we're doing a pretty good job at managing your pain, but where are you emotionally?"
She sighs and her head rolls from side to side against the pillows. "I'm ready to go. I'm so tired and I've been fighting for so long, and … I'm done." The blender starts up in the kitchen and I feel like my heart is inside of it, being torn to bits. "She's going to need you, Owen,” Faith finishes with labored breath.
An ache starts in my chest. "I know, and I’ll be there for her."
She nods. "Are you going to make an honest woman out of her?" She attempts a smile, obviously making a joke.
"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that." I tap the bulge in my right pocket. The ring I’ve been carrying around all week feels heavier every day. I just can’t find the right time to ask Autumn to marry me. But I want Faith to know she’ll be taken care of. If she says yes…
Her smile burns a little brighter. "Is that right?"
"I wanted to officially ask your blessing for me to ask Autumn to be my wife."
The pallor in Faith's skin turns into a dull glow. "You know my answer, Owen Miller. You've been like a son to me since the day Autumn brought you home when you were skinny and had the appetite of a horse. I'd always hoped the two of you would find your way back to one another." She pauses to run a palm over the duvet. "Of course, it would've been preferable if it wasn't my condition that brought you together again."
I nod. I wish that too.
Her eyes shimmer. “Let me see the ring.”
I pull it out and let her hold it, spinning it left and right. “Owen, it’s lovely.”
Autumn really isn’t into flashy things, but I got an expensive ring anyway. I want to spend the rest of my life spoiling her.
She hands it back to me after a moment and I open my mouth to tell her something when the doorbell cuts me off. "The nurse is two hours early," I frown, looking at my watch even though I know the time.
"It's not the nurse. I asked the pastor at my church to come by. I haven't been able to get to church, and the pastor volunteered to bring last Sunday's sermon to me."
"Mom?" Autumn appears at the bedroom door, a confused “V” pulling between her eyebrows. "Pastor Greg is here to see you."
Faith smiles at Autumn. She sits up a little straighter and looks down at herself, probably to make sure she's decent. "Send him in please, hon."
Pastor Greg, who I've met a handful of times when I've attended services with Faith, steps around Autumn and into Faith's room. His casual look of khakis and a short-sleeved collared button-up throw me off. The only times I've seen him he's been in a suit.
"Hello," he nods at me, and it occurs to me that although I remember him, he probably doesn't remember me.
"Owen Miller." I extend a hand. "I'm Faith's oncologist."
He grins at Faith. "Look at you, getting house calls. You must be special." He winks at her and she laughs. It's not her real laugh, but a ghost version of something that used to be full-bodied and alive.
The room gets quiet, and it hits me that the pastor and Faith are waiting for me to leave. "Autumn, isn't there a smoothie out there with my name on it?" I ask her.
She grips the doorframe with one hand and leans around it. "Yes. Mom, I'll put yours in the fridge."
We walk out to the kitchen and Autumn hands me the drink. Even though it's hotter than the surface of the sun outside, we take our drinks out back and sit in the shade.
Despite the heat, Autumn sits beside me, tucked into the crook of my arm. She talks about Livvie's idea of the bookstore, and how Livvie called while she was making our smoothies to tell her it's a go. I’m so damn happy that she’s found something she will love to do with her career here in Sedona. Absentmindedly, I stroke her arm while she talks.
"Can you believe it?" she asks, incredulous. The question doesn't really require an answer. "What if I'd said yes to Jeanne? How would I have talked my way out of that one?"
"Good thing you said no."
"I talked to her just before Livvie called, and I told her in no uncertain terms that I am passing up the opportunity and that’s final." She shakes her head, the straw resting against her lower lip. "I think she was genuinely surprised, even though I'd already told her once." She sighs and shrugs. "I guess I should appreciate the tenacity."
"That's one way to look at it."
Autumn's head turns, her gaze finding Faith's bedroom window. The drapes were open when I went in, but with the screen on the window and our angle across the yard, we can't see in.
"I know you said three months, but…"Autumn draws an invisible pattern on the outside of her cup. "Do you still think that?"
Autumn needs the truth, but I'm reluctant to give it. There is no real way to know, but there are signs … and Faith is showing them. "I can't say precisely, but it won't be much longer."
I hear the intake of her breath, I feel the movement of her shoulders. "God, Owen, this is terrible. Knowing it’s coming, waiting for something horrible to happen… it’s—" Her voice shakes.
I set down my cup on the table in front of us and wrap her in my arms. I'm ready for her tears, but they don't come. Maybe she is cried out, drained on the inside, nearly numb from the grief process that has already begun.
I hold her until Pastor Greg opens the back door. He stops there for a moment and opens his mouth, but something gives him pause. Perhaps it's Autumn with her head on my chest, or both of us with our feet propped up on the table. He steps outside and clears his throat.
“I’m going to get going now, Autumn, but please call me if you need anything.”
Autumn pulls herself away from me and stands, going to him. “I will. Thank you, Pastor.”
They gaze at each other for a few moments and I wonder how close they are. I know Faith has been taking Autumn to church but this seems like more … like they share something deeper. Maybe it’s just a mutual respect and love for Faith.
“See you at church on Sunday?” He gives an encouraging grin. Without her mother going, Autumn hasn’t been going either.
She laughs nervously. “Sure … see you Sunday.”
She watches him go and the
re’s a look on her face, like she’s trying to figure something out. I stand and wrap my arms around her.
"The nurse will be here soon. We can run out. Grab something to make for dinner." I brush a hand through her hair as I talk.
"That sounds good." Autumn pushes up, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms. "I'm going to check on my mom, then get changed. I'm sweaty." She makes a face and I pinch my nose, pretending she smells. It works. She laughs, just a small chuckle, and playfully shoves my arm.
When the nurse arrives, we step out to the grocery store. Autumn picks out what's needed to make baked ziti and gets started in on the recipe. Cooking and cleaning have been her go-to methods of dealing with stress. I’m not complaining, but I have gained a few pounds.
"My mom's favorite," she explains, and I don't remind her that I already know. Faith has ordered it dozens of times or made it for me on our Monday night dinners.
I came back to Sedona after med school, still a lost and broken boy. Broken by her daughter, by our choice. My father doesn’t have an emotional bone in his body, so Faith took me in. She loved me, listened to all my worries, and made me family.
She saved me.
And I couldn’t save her. It will haunt me for the rest of my life.
Chapter 28
Autumn
I make the baked ziti for dinner, and my mom does her best to eat it, but she doesn't manage more than a few bites, though she raves about it as enthusiastically as she can manage. It breaks my heart so see her so weak and frail. Owen clears the plates and does the dishes, while I get some time alone with my mom.
I apply lotion to her hands and feet, read her a book and tuck her into bed. Then we sit there holding hands as I stare at the small jewelry box my mom has on her dresser. I think of my mom’s life, a hard but hopefully rewarding life. She raised me on her own, went without frivolous things so that I could have whatever I needed, and never really found true love.
“I’m sorry you never had a great love,” I tell her. Now feels like the time to get these thoughts out.