A Summer In Europe

by Marilyn Brant

  Gwen smiled noncommittally. Was Emerson’s mom going to tell her that she thought Gwen was like some kind of weird plant? A milk thistle, perhaps? A snapdragon?

  “And Thoreau had no idea how very right he was,” Lucia mused, leading Gwen in a circuitous path around the yard that, eventually, brought them to a garden wall near the side of the house, which featured an artistically designed tile mosaic the brothers must have done when they were boys.

  Gwen saw Emerson’s handprint when he was, maybe, about six years old. Involuntarily, she reached out to touch it, smiling at those little fingers and tracing a few of them with her own. “Thoreau was right about what?” she asked.

  “That you belong with my son,” Lucia stated.

  Gwen swallowed and gently shook her head. “Oh, look, um, Emerson and I are just friends and—”

  Emerson’s mom laughed gaily, like she was in on some hilarious joke that, clearly, Gwen had missed. “I wasn’t speaking of Emerson, darling,” Lucia said. “But I do think you may be utterly perfect for Thoreau.”

  This Gwen could say with certainty: The Forrester family’s machinations on The Bold and the Beautiful had nothing on morning tea with the Edwards clan.

  Still reeling from Lucia’s comment, Gwen trailed after her as she spun once on her toes and headed inside. “No, I don’t think—” Gwen began, but Lucia cut her off.

  “Do me one small favor, dearie—and do yourself one, too—watch Thoreau. Take a good long look at him. Consider him as an option. Carefully. Don’t dismiss the idea too quickly.”

  What was Gwen supposed to say to that? No, I don’t want to consider your eldest son ... ? It was bad enough sorting through her conflicting feelings about Emerson and Richard; she didn’t want to toss Thoreau in there anywhere. Not when she’d already kissed his brother. Not when she had an almost-fiancé back home. But, again, Lucia Edwards was not a woman one openly disobeyed, so Gwen clamped her mouth shut and followed her into the living room.

  A pretty, dark-haired woman was there, standing awkwardly between the two men. Amanda, Gwen guessed. And the tableaux the three of them made looked very much like one of those soap-opera cutaway moments when the actress the viewers had been following walked into a room, only to find herself in the midst of a heated drama being played out before her.

  Lucia brushed past Gwen and hugged the woman. “Amanda, darling. So glad you could join us.” She beamed a bright smile at her boys. “I’ll leave you two to the introductions so I might finish up in the kitchen. I’m feeling rather peckish now. Tea will be served in ten minutes.” She glided away.

  “Hi,” Gwen said politely.

  “Hello,” Amanda replied, adding a small wave.

  Emerson, who’d looked plenty concerned on the car ride over and in the backyard, was even less relaxed now. The crease between his brows deepened when he spotted Gwen behind his mother, while Thoreau, whose complexion was already heightened by some unspecified emotion, could only nod distractedly at her as his brother belatedly introduced the women.

  She and Amanda shared a glance and, in that one instant of eye contact, Gwen deduced something important: Amanda was at least as nervous as Gwen was, and she was also nice. She might not be perfect. Thoreau might have relationships issues with her. But she was a good person. She wasn’t here to play games. Like Gwen, she was here because Lucia had demanded it and because—also like Gwen—she had a sense of loyalty toward one of the Edwards brothers. Thoreau, of course, in Amanda’s case. Gwen turned an interested eye on him. He caught her gaze and returned it, looking perplexed.

  When they were called in for the light meal, she did as his mother had asked and studied him. Carefully, just as Lucia had requested. She saw Emerson watching her, even more bemused than his brother, but other than a hastily whispered, “What did my mother say to you outside?”—to which she’d shrugged and murmured, “Nothing very serious”—the conversation that swirled around them at the table was deceptively ordinary and civil:

  “Would you like more tea? Cream, milk or sugar?”

  “And how did you find Vienna? Beautiful this time of year ...”

  “Shall I pass you the scones? Some apricot jam, perhaps?”

  Thoreau caught Gwen looking at him at the table, too, but his gaze immediately shifted over to Amanda, who was doing her best to navigate the disquieting normalcy of the meal with a smile and a resolute attitude. Gwen wondered at that. Wondered at their relationship and how it had weathered the weeks apart. There was something between the two of them—that much was obvious. But it wasn’t until Lucia asked Amanda a question about her summer that Gwen saw the first real flash of truth. The dark-haired woman responded with an almost imperceptible grimace before explaining, in a strikingly cheery tone, that she’d spent a fun holiday week with her sister and young nieces. Gwen’s gaze shot back to Thoreau and saw a bolt of pain in his expression that he quickly masked by reaching for another serving of egg-and-sausage scramble.

  Ah. Real emotion. Right there.

  Lucia might be the mother of both of these men, but Gwen was sure she was dead wrong about her eldest son. No matter what Thoreau himself might have said, his heart was tangled up with Amanda’s. There was nothing between him and Gwen. Nothing she would have wanted there to be, either. Even if Emerson in no way factored into the equation, she still wouldn’t have chosen his brother. Didn’t Lucia know that? What game was their mother playing?

  “Would you like to try a new tea? The chamomile now?” Lucia asked Gwen, pointing to the teapot a few inches from Thoreau’s place setting. “Or do you prefer the original English breakfast blend?” She indicated the teapot nearest Emerson.

  Gwen met her gaze. “The original, please.”

  A corner of Lucia’s mouth lifted in a grin. “Are you quite sure?”

  “Yes,” Gwen said decidedly.

  Lucia’s eyes twinkled as she asked Emerson to refresh Gwen’s teacup.

  Emerson glanced between the two women and chewed some more on his bottom lip. “We ought to get going,” he said at the earliest possible moment. “Thoreau and I don’t need to join in the London sightseeing today, but I do need to make sure Gwen is back in time for the tour.”

  Amanda piped up with a pressing commitment for the afternoon, too. Thoreau immediately offered to see her out and, soon, the quintet was disbanded. Before Gwen could escape the Edwards house, however, Lucia cornered her alone one more time.

  “Thank you for taking my request seriously,” Lucia murmured, “even though you seemed to come to a decision rather swiftly.”

  Gwen nodded and took a step back. “Thoreau and Amanda belong together. I don’t know what he might have said to make you think otherwise, but they’re clearly committed to each other.”

  “Yes, and you helped that along nicely.”

  “How do you mean?” Gwen asked.

  Lucia leaned closer and lowered her voice even more. “Over the past month, Thoreau told me about how he tried a few times to worry his brother into thinking there might be something between the two of you. Thoreau is not used to having the tables turned on him, however. He’s too often the manipulator in social stratagems. Even Emerson doesn’t go to Thoreau’s extremes in playing out his chess moves with real people. Thoreau needed to feel the sting of his meddling, if only to make it clear what he’d be losing if he didn’t play things straight with his lady friend.”

  Gwen processed this. The morning had clearly been some sort of ploy on Lucia’s part to ... what? Be a matchmaker? Teach Thoreau a lesson? Kind of an ironic way to go about it. “So, you were just trying to make Thoreau uncomfortable?”

  Lucia smiled peacefully and nodded. “People don’t change unless they’re made uncomfortable, Gwen. It was a useful tutorial for Thoreau. And, of course, I needed to shake up Emerson a bit while I was at it. Sorry not to explain this all in advance, but you would not have reacted so perfectly and naturally if I’d clued you in.”

  Gwen crossed her arms and stared at the woman. This was
one bizarrely dysfunctional family. Was every freaking thing they did part of a big strategy game?

  “Emerson has been very kind to me,” she said coolly, the irritation she felt making her valiant. “And I can’t say I like the way you and Thoreau have been trying to control him.” She exhaled. “He and I are friends. And, as a friend, I don’t want to see him hurt. Please don’t use me as a pawn in a game like that again.”

  Lucia laughed and wind chimes danced in the air. “You’re no pawn, Gwen. Not really. But I truly apologize for my interference.” She observed her with those shrewd eyes. “Of course, if that’s how you feel, I’m relieved. You deserve him, then.”

  Gwen opened her mouth to contradict but Lucia waved her off.

  “No, I’m quite sincere. I’ll be interested to learn how it all works out. It will, of course, be up to you to decide if he deserves you.” Lucia let that thought hang in the air between them for a few moments before seeing Gwen to the door, where Emerson was waiting with palpable impatience. He’d somehow managed to keep it under control, but his intensity all but made the light waves vibrate. “Just fascinating!” his mother said, under her breath. “Pity you don’t live in England, Gwen. We could do this more often.”

  Gwen couldn’t quite bring herself to agree, but when she saw the fierce concern in Lucia’s eyes as she said good-bye to both of her sons, Gwen would have been blind not to recognize how much their mother loved them. She was manipulative and meddlesome—a dangerous combination—but she was also trying to make sure, in her own way, that her boys were happy. Gwen sensed Lucia would do whatever it took to achieve that.

  While she doubted her own mother would have gone quite as far as Emerson’s, her mom might have—had she been given the chance. Aunt Bea, in trying to parent a motherless child, had pulled her own strings, hadn’t she? Played her own kinds of games ... And Gwen realized how grateful she was to her aunt for that. For loving her enough to be intrusive, even at the risk of irritating her. For caring so much that no small thing—like Gwen’s fragile heart—could be overlooked.

  Emerson drove the short distance to the bed-and-breakfast and dropped her off before noon—time enough to collect her belongings and take the final bus trip of the tour.

  “I apologize for my mum, although I did warn you,” he said, pulling into the parking lot, but letting his car idle. “Er, what was with all of those looks between you and my brother?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing, really. Just watching to see how often he kept tabs on Amanda. He likes her a lot. Loves her, maybe.”

  Emerson relaxed, marginally. “That he does. It’s been odd to see him work so hard to change. For him, you realize, it’s a big risk not to commit quickly. I can respect him for that, even though I don’t entirely understand the drive to do it.”

  She pressed her lips together and tried to smile. “I think I do understand. Entirely,” she admitted. “I think he hopes that by committing—by getting the most significant pieces of his life in order as soon as possible—he’ll be able to control something that really can’t be controlled.” She sighed. “It’s a kind of insurance. A security thing. A way to ward off the sense of chaos that’s just at the end of our fingertips. Life is uncertain. Choosing a mate quickly makes it seem less so somehow. You’ve got an ally with you then.”

  He listened and seemed to be studying the contours of her face as she spoke. “That makes sense, I suppose. I always thought it was rather the opposite, though. Kind of a selfish thing. That bringing a mate into the chaos would make both people more unstable, rather than be a means of steadying each of them. I’ll have to think on that some more.” He cocked his head to one side. “I know you’re not free to date other men, but you should know something. Knowing you has been ... a good influence on me.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Thanks.”

  “Thanks to you, too,” she murmured, surprised and touched that he’d say that. Knowing him had certainly changed her. It stunned and gratified her to imagine she might have impressed him in any substantial way.

  The car idling settled into a low hum as the two of them sat there, looking at each other, for a few long moments.

  “I’m going to pass on the London sites for today,” Emerson said finally. “But I may join in on a few excursions this weekend, and I’ll see you most definitely tomorrow night for the play.”

  She might have to wait twenty-four whole hours to see him? She tried to wrap her mind around that—around her attachment to him—as she hugged him good-bye. She was beginning to miss him already. It was ridiculous, of course. It wasn’t as though they could have a relationship anyway—even if she were free to have one; they lived on separate continents.

  He hugged her back, perhaps a bit more forcefully than she’d expected, and drove off in his speedy little red car.

  Gwen rejoined her group in the lobby and soon found herself spending an enjoyable afternoon in London. They took a double-decker bus on a sightseeing extravaganza through the city: London Bridge, Tower Bridge, the Tower of London, Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament, Kensington Gardens, Buckingham Palace, St. James’s Park, Harrods, Royal Albert Hall and more.

  “This is just to acquaint you with the city,” Hans-Josef explained. “You will have time to visit all of these places in the next few days, if you wish.” He smiled at Cynthia—one of only two Brits who’d elected to go on this orientation tour.

  Cynthia smiled back, dazzling and heartfelt.

  Dr. Louie and Matilda sat side by side. Gwen thought she spied them holding hands.

  And Ani, seated a few rows behind the rest of the group, was paying no attention to the sights that were whizzing by. He knew them all already, anyway. His attention was focused on a pretty Finnish teen who was visiting London with her parents.

  “Saija,” Kamesh had whispered to Gwen and Aunt Bea before dropping his son off for the tour. “They met on the Sudoku Gurus online loop and have been e-mailing and texting all summer. Nonstop this week.” He glanced heavenward and shrugged.

  The group’s lodging accommodation in London was a seven-story hotel near Victoria Station and nearer still to a pub called The Twist & Shout—a newish place known for their ales, their classic sixties rock and their well-cooked bangers-n-mash. After the city tour, Aunt Bea, Zenia and Hester insisted on stopping there for dinner, and Gwen couldn’t bring herself to turn them down.

  Even without Dr. Louie in attendance, Gwen found herself being dragged into public singing. It wasn’t quite intended to be karaoke, but Zenia belting out a musical command to shake it up, baby, (“Now!”) was infectious, and soon pub patrons at other tables were jumping in.

  Gwen, a mass of intellectual puzzlement and emotional confusion after her morning with the Edwards family and her afternoon foray into London Town, found a special solace in the freedom and fun of the music. It seemed pure stubbornness not to join in, too.

  They were still singing and laughing when they got back to their hotel. Gwen had never let herself be so open and carefree. It was exciting! And, besides, she was a tourist here in England. No one outside of her intimate little travel group even knew her. She took a deep breath and sang Zenia’s favorite line—solo this time. Zenia clapped. Hester giggled like a schoolgirl. Aunt Bea grinned at her and said, “Brava, Gwennie!”

  And, just as she was punching in the up button on the elevator, another person cleared his throat and chimed in. “Hello, Gwendolyn,” the recognizable male voice said.

  She swiveled around and looked for the sound. It took her a second to place it. “Richard?”

  Her eyes focused and she saw him, standing at the edge of the lobby. They must have walked right past him. He smiled but he was looking at her oddly—as if she were someone he didn’t quite recognize.

  He held out his arms for a welcome hug. “I’m here.”

  11

  Beware of What You Wish

  Friday–Sunday, July 27–29

  “How was your flight?” Gwen stammered, stepping out of He Richard�
�s embrace.

  He scrunched up his forehead. “Way too long, but the plane landed on time, and I got here and checked in. I was kinda surprised not to see you for a few hours.” A flash of hurt crossed his face but he looked down quickly, perhaps to mask it. “Didn’t you get my e-mail?”

  “Your e-mail? A recent one?” she asked, realizing as she said it that she hadn’t checked her messages since before Brussels. “No. I’m sorry.”

  He smiled understandingly and hugged her again. She was flooded with that familiarity she loved. And his warmth. And his kindness. She knew Richard. Unlike Emerson, Richard wasn’t some kind of enigma. She’d met Richard’s family, too, and, while his mom didn’t possess the effervescence so natural to Lucia Edwards, she also wasn’t a master manipulator of her children. A woman thinking of marrying somebody had to consider these things. After all, you never just married the man; Gwen knew you also married everyone he was close to and cared about. Could she, for instance, handle not only Emerson but his brother and his mother, too?

  Suddenly, her recollection of the Edwards event that morning bordered on surrealistic and foreign. She didn’t have to be challenged by anything with Richard and his family. It was all so understandable with them. So clear-cut.

  She’d forgotten Aunt Bea, Zenia and Hester were still standing there until her aunt broke into her thoughts. “Glad you got here safely, Richard. Hope you’ll have fun in England.” She paused. “Um, Gwennie, we’re headed up to bed. You got your room key, right?”

  Gwen smiled involuntarily. Funny how her aunt had been so keen to have her “lose” her key when Emerson was the man in question. But, Richard looked tired tonight. They wouldn’t be having a wildly romantic evening anyway. “Yes, Aunt Bea, I’ve got my key. We’re just going to talk for a few minutes. Maybe in the hotel restaurant?” She glanced at Richard for confirmation, and he nodded. “I’ll be upstairs soon,” she told her aunt.