Running From Love

by Maggie Marr

  Poppy entered Therese’s hospital room for the second time that day. A man who looked eerily similar to Poppy’s Dad stood beside Therese’s bed.

  “Brian?” Poppy whispered. He turned. She hadn’t seen her older brother in nearly eighteen months, and he’d changed in that time. His hairline was pushed farther back and his trim physique was giving way to too many good meals and too much time at a desk. Dark rings smudged the skin under Brian’s eyes.

  “Poppy.” He said her name as though it were a breath of fresh air. Brian reached out and wrapped her into a hug. Mimi stood just behind him with Daniel, her husband, at her side. Brian looked past her, his brow wrinkling … of course.

  “This is Trevor. He’s my …” What was he? “He’s my boyfriend,” Poppy blurted out. She hadn’t used that word since she was a schoolgirl in Sydney, and it didn’t fit what Trevor meant to her. She watched Trevor offer his kind words to Brian, and Mimi, and Daniel. He was more than just a boyfriend. She was actually considering staying with him, a thought that had been unfathomable to her when she left his bed at Mesquale. How foolish, even then … of course she loved him … yes, she absolutely did love him. She’d most likely loved him since the day they met.

  A single small light in the corner softly lit the room. Drops of medicine still dripped through a tube slowly into Therese’s hand. A machine by her bedside beeped with each pump of Therese’s heart, echoing her fading life.

  “The doctor was by. She, well—” Brian glanced at Mimi, who pressed her fingertips to the inner corners of her eyes. Brian looked back at Poppy. “We’ve reached a decision. We took her off the ventilator.” He turned his eyes toward Therese. “It’s time to let her go.”

  The lump in the back of Poppy’s throat thickened. Let her go. Hadn’t Poppy been trying to do just that when it came to Therese since she’d been five years old? Now the choice had been taken from her. It would be the giant tumor and the failure of Therese’s body that took her away and forced Poppy to let her go. Poppy reached out and grasped Brian’s hand and then moved toward her sister and took her hand as well.

  Mimi face was awash in tears. Always so strong for everyone else, who was ever strong for Mimi? “I’m sorry, Mimi. I’m so sorry,” Poppy murmured.

  Mimi choked on her sobs. A nurse entered the room and checked the machine and the drugs. She looked at them, her eyes reflecting a soft gentleness. “We’ll make certain that she’s comfortable.”

  Poppy’s face crumbled. What did it mean to be comfortable when careening toward death? Did it mean that Therese was in some in-between space, unaware of her imminent end? Poppy tugged her hands away from her siblings’ and pressed her palms to her cheeks. This, all of it … she turned … God, she had to get out … get away … be anywhere but here …

  She turned to run and there was Trevor. His thick chest, his strong arms, his calm face and brilliant eyes that held warmth and love. He put his arms around her and pulled her close, into his touch. Poppy’s heartbeat steadied and the clutching panic in her belly gave way to a settled acceptance. She could hear his heart through his sweater. The strong life force pounding through him. Finally, she could turn and face the room, his arms still around her.

  The beeping was gone. The nurse had turned down the sound on the machine. The light on the heart monitor still showed Therese’s heart beating. The heart rate number grew smaller and smaller as each second passed. Poppy stood, motionless, watching the life drift away from the woman who she hadn’t called mother for most of her life. First Brian went to Therese’s bed. A kiss to her forehead and a long look at her face. With tears in his eyes, he brushed past Poppy and out into the hall. Then Mimi approached, her face now stoic and stone-like. She held Therese’s hand and pressed it to her own cheek.

  “Bye bye, Mama. I love you.” She leaned forward and pressed a long kiss to Therese’s cheek. She backed away from the side of the bed and went to the window where she stood looking out, Daniel behind her. His arms wrapped around her.

  Trevor still held Poppy. His arms tight around her, supporting her and giving her strength. She slid from his embrace. A need compelled her to go to the edge of Therese’s bed. There in the dim light, with her mother’s heartbeat ticking down like a stopwatch ticking away time, her mother lay with her eyes closed, her breathing so slow, so soft, as to be nearly unheard. Poppy stared at that face, the face that she had dreamed a million times, and at this woman who Poppy had needed to be her mother a million times more. Nothing would ever change the fact that Therese hadn’t been that mother. As Poppy looked at Therese, motionless and nearing her end on this plane, a feeling burst through her. Not quite forgiveness and not quite sadness, but a sense of calm. A knowledge that she would be okay, as would Therese. A peaceful acceptance, as though in this very second before the end of Therese’s life, their individual souls had released each other.

  Poppy leaned forward and pressed her lips to her mother’s forehead. “Good-bye,” Poppy said, and with one final shuddering sigh the woman that Poppy had long ago called Mommy was gone.

  *

  Trevor took Poppy toward Malibu. The silence in the car heavy upon them. Poppy’s face unreadable as they drove west toward the ocean. Once there, he put her to bed. She was awake but quietly alert, not catatonic. Her face contained a stoicism, as though even she couldn’t discern what she should feel. What could he do for Poppy? His own experience told him that nothing but time and rest could heal the pain of parental loss. Trevor slid into bed beside her and wrapped his arms around her body. He pulled her close. The scent of oranges and mint still in her hair.

  “Trevor,” Poppy whispered. Her voice contained pain. She put her hands on the arm wrapped around her chest.

  “I’m here.” He pulled her closer and spooned his body to hers. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  With his words, her entire body relaxed in his arms. Her breathing slowed until finally, every tense muscle in her body softened and relaxed. As she drifted to sleep, the tension in his own muscles drained from his body.

  What a horrible time for Poppy and for her family. He’d hold her and feed her and simply be with her while she recovered from this loss. They would exist together and he was good with that. He had decisions to make, about his future and the future of Up Side Burger, but those decisions could wait. His birthday was a month from now. There was plenty of time to love and heal between now and the moment in which he had to decide. He would love and care for Poppy and be the best for her that he knew how to be.

  Chapter 16

  Poppy walked along the beach. The waves caressed the shore and the water tickled her toes. There had been no funeral for Therese, only the request that her ashes be spread off the coast of Australia a year after her death. Poppy pulled the cuffs of her sweater over her hands and looked up into the gray sky. Fog lay heavy over the coastline this morning. There was no brilliant blue sky, no bright yellow sun, only a grey that seemed to match her mood. A funk had hovered around her for nearly a month. She mourned Therese, but not in the way she suspected most women mourned the passing of their mother. The thought that perhaps she wasn’t mourning correctly, the way she should mourn the woman who gave birth to her, created a layer of guilt that clung to Poppy’s every thought and action.

  These morning walks had begun out of necessity. The first three days after Therese passed, she hadn’t moved from the bed. On the fourth day Trevor had pulled her to standing and pushed her out the back door, down the stairs to the sand, ordering her to walk to the curve on the beach where a giant rock jutted from the sand. She hadn’t wanted to, and she’d set off with a scowl, muttering unkind words.

  Trevor had been right about sending her off to walk. With every mile she accumulated her malaise grew lighter. She spent her walks each morning ruminating over Therese, and Mimi, and her brother, and Trevor, and her life as it was and what she thought she might do for the rest of it. That was the problem she turned over in her mind today. Trevor’s birthday was two days away, and the pa
rty that his mother was hosting was tomorrow night. He’d be giving her his decision about running Up Side Burger. They’d discussed it a couple times before Therese died, but he hadn’t brought it up since. Trevor hadn’t brought much of anything up since, other than what she wanted for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and whether she wanted to go to a movie or stay home.

  She wrapped her arms around her chest. He was babying her, protecting her, and though she found it hard to admit, she liked it. That he took care of her and her needs when she was tired and weak and afraid spoke to his love for her. That she didn’t have to make a more complex decision right now than whether she wanted a baked potato or quinoa with dinner.

  He made her laugh, he kept her well-fed and warm. His company made her heart feel light. So why did anxiety creep along the sides of her belly? How damaged was she that she wanted to sneak through the darkness of night and hop a plane to Tibet, or Kathmandu, maybe even Phuket? What was her mental malfunction that she couldn’t mourn her dead mother the right way or commit to a man whom she loved and who so completely loved her?

  A chill lingered in her heart. Everything died and ultimately everyone left. There was no permanence to life. Impermanence was the only certainty. Again, fear clutched her insides. How could she pledge her life to another, knowing that love, life, her very existence were as ephemeral as a wave on the ocean? She squinted toward the house. On the deck, Trevor’s familiar strong figure stood, hands on his hips, looking her way. She loved him. There was no doubt. But whether that love would cause her to stay and give up her wanderlust she couldn’t say. A slighter figure stood beside him … who was that? Smaller, with blonde hair … A smile broke across Poppy’s face.

  Charla Duval stood beside Trevor, which meant that Ryan Murphy was also somewhere in L.A. They’d sent flowers and called after Therese’s death, and talked of coming in for Trevor’s birthday party, but nothing had been confirmed then. Now here was Charla, the woman who had been Poppy’s roommate during her last six months at Mesquale and who had quickly become Poppy’s best friend. The smile widened across Poppy’s face as she got closer. She waved to Charla, who returned it. Poppy climbed the small set of stairs from the sand to the deck, where Charla, with her white-blonde hair and gargantuan smile, stood. She pulled Poppy into a hug.

  “You’re here!”

  “I’m only sorry it took us this long to get here.” Charla pulled back and her gaze searched Poppy’s face. “How are you doing?”

  The corner of Poppy’s mouth lifted and she shrugged. “Okay.”

  “Well, you look good. Well fed and rested and showered. I’m impressed.” Charla glanced toward Trevor. “But when I saw the spread he had laid out this morning for the four of us, I wasn’t surprised. Does he just hang out and cook for you all day?”

  “Pretty much. Wait.”—Poppy’s gaze shifted to Trevor—“Did you know they were coming today?”

  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “There was talk, but weather was dicey and everything depended on getting the jet off Mesquale.”

  “Don’t blame Trevor for not telling you. We wanted to surprise you, not be a cause for disappointment if the weather didn’t cooperate.” Charla wrapped an arm around Poppy’s waist. They first few raindrops fell and they walked through the sliders into the kitchen.

  “Yo, Poppy!” Ryan called from the kitchen, where he was intently making mimosas. “Not sure why I’m doing this and not that guy”—he nodded toward Trevor— “since he’s one of the best bartenders I’ve ever known.”

  “Man, you worked right beside me for months before any of us knew who you really were,” Trevor joked.

  Ryan walked to Poppy and pulled her into a hug. He whispered into her ear, “I’m sorry for your loss.” His eyes examined her face. Ryan understood loss at the deepest level. His fiancé and their unborn child had perished years before in a horrible car accident when Ryan had been driving. “If there’s anything you need … even just someone to sit quietly and say nothing. I can be that friend.” His smile was warm and understanding.

  Poppy’s malaise seemed to lighten. She’d missed Charla, and by extension she’d missed Ryan too. Ryan had been Trevor’s roommate, and dating Charla, before he’d outed himself as the new owner of Mesquale, the Tahitian resort where they’d all worked. The four of them had spent good times together drinking and dining and sitting on the sand.

  “Thank you.” Poppy had grown better able to respond to the support that people wanted to give her. At first she’d pretended that nothing was wrong, that nothing had happened, that because Therese had been absent from her life for more than twenty years, Poppy had no anguish over the loss. She’d been lying to herself and not fooling anyone around her. She’d started to unpack the pain, but she’d also learned that in moments like this, social moments, she could tuck the idea of her loss away for perusal later.

  Ryan handed her and Charla each a mimosa and Poppy curled up on the sofa. She tucked a chenille throw over her body.

  “How long are you in Los Angeles?” she asked, hoping it would be for a while. She wanted her friend to be here with her to talk and just be together.

  “Well, he’s got Mesquale business and we’ve got this big birthday party to go to.” Charla eyed Trevor. “Plus, I’ve got some wedding business to attend to.”

  “Oh my God, that’s right! Show me, show me! I’ve only seen pictures of the ring.” Charla sat beside Poppy and held out her hand. A gargantuan rock of a diamond sparkled and on either side were two more diamonds.

  “Oh, Charla, it’s beautiful! I’m so happy for you.” Poppy pulled her friend close. “Nice work, Mr. Murphy,” she said. “I’m impressed you were able to recover so well from that fiasco of yours.”

  “You say fiasco, I say best thing that ever happened to me and Mesquale.”

  “How’s the planning going?” Poppy asked. Charla and Ryan weren’t waiting. Their wedding was planned for three months from now.

  “Well it’s kind of easy to plan when your soon-to-be-husband owns one of the most luxurious five-star resorts in the world.” Charla smiled. “But the tough thing has been finding a dress. I thought we could look while I’m here.”

  “Seriously?”

  Charla nodded. “I still need to find your dress and my dress—”

  “Hold up … I don’t think I actually agreed to be in this wedding.”

  “Oh, you agreed,” Charla said. “By virtue of being the person who talked me into giving this guy a second chance.”

  A small flush heated Poppy’s cheeks. “That was me?” Everything seemed so long ago. Those moments on the island of Mesquale, when Charla had come back and she’d seen Ryan and the two of them had finally acknowledged their love. While not so long ago, it felt like a lifetime. Since that time she’d left Trevor, left Mesquale, helped her sister, Trevor had found her, Therese had passed and now … She looked at Trevor standing beside Ryan, the two of them talking and laughing. And now what? Now Charla was here to pick out a wedding dress and go to Trevor’s birthday party and …

  Poppy’s chest tightened. Her breathing grew short. She was here. With Trevor. Living with Trevor and had been for … a while. What? How had this happened? She wasn’t in Hong Kong, she wasn’t living her life. Her eyes glanced down at Charla’s ring as Charla continued to talk about the four wedding boutiques she wanted to visit in the next two days. Poppy closed her eyes. Her head … pressure like a vise around her scalp. She pressed her fingers to her forehead. No. Too much. Too, too much.

  “I’m sorry, Charla, I’ll be right back.” She stood and dashed toward the stairs that lead to the master suite. She didn’t look back at her friends. She didn’t want to see them exchange of looks of concern over her abrupt exit. She could already hear the heavy silence, could imagine the whispers about what had just happened and which one of them should come check on her.

  No one should come check on her. She needed to be alone. She wanted to be alone. She’d become entangled in a life that
she hadn’t wanted. She’d allowed herself to get swept up with people, loads and loads of people and their emotions, and the responsibilities that came with these people and their expectations. Poppy paced in front of the wall of windows that overlooked the Pacific. Rain streaked the windows and on the other side of the glass, the ocean grew white-waved and angry.

  “Babe?” Trevor stood just inside the room. “You okay? Can I get you anything?”

  “You can get me my suitcase.” Poppy ran her fingertips through her hair. “Where did you put it? Are you hiding it so I can’t leave? And my passport, why don’t I have my passport—”

  “Babe.” Trevor walked closer to her. “Your suitcase is right inside the garage and your passport is in your purse. You want to tell me what’s going on?”

  Poppy turned on Trevor. Her jaw tightened. Anger built a furious fire in her chest. “I can’t do this Trevor, okay? I can’t do any of this. This … this Suzy Homemaker thing isn’t me. Weddings and mimosas and brunch with long-time friends? That’s not me.” She pressed her hand to her chest. Her heart beat like a hummingbird’s.

  “It’s Ryan and Charla. No one expects you to be anyone you’re not. We don’t want you to be—”

  “That’s just the thing. I don’t want a we who wants anything from me, okay? I want me. I want to be alone and live alone and go where I want, when I want, and not have to worry about picking out dresses or being at birthday parties on time or seeing your mother on Sundays or who is having what and where and when. Okay? I don’t want that life, I never wanted that life, and I told you that, Trevor. I told you I couldn’t have that life, that I needed my freedom. And then I came here to help and you came here and found me and then Therese died and oh my God.” Poppy sank to the floor and covered her face with her hands. “I have to leave.”

  “You don’t have to leave.” Trevor’s voice was hard with a hint of ice in it. “You can leave any time you want to, Poppy, but you don’t have to, let’s be really clear on that. Leaving is a choice just like staying is a choice. One that we make for each other every day.”