“Why didn’t Mom ever come out to me?”
“Tell you we were involved? Lovers? Your mother had her reasons,” Rory whispered, desperation in her glistening eyes.
Heat flushed from Brynne’s crown to her stomach. “I pretty much always knew. But talking about something so intimate with Mom...”
Rory didn’t move from behind the kitchen breakfast-bar partition. “And we live in a state that still doesn’t recognize our kind of love.”
“You could have moved to California.”
“That’s where your mom left, remember? The two people she trusted the most, her parents, turned their backs on her when she came out to them. It crushed her, Brynne. Changed her life. She wouldn’t risk the same thing happening with you, the person she loved most in the world.”
“But I loved her—nothing would change that.”
“She had history you couldn’t understand.” Rory’s guarded expression softened. “Besides, we didn’t need California. We got married in Paris. Of course, it wasn’t official, but nevertheless, we had a very romantic ceremony. Just the two of us.” She leaned her elbows on the counter, lifting her right hand, lightly wiggling her ring finger. “We exchanged rings. And vows. That was enough for us.”
The brightly colored, patterned cloisonné ring on Rory’s right hand matched one Jessica had worn on a long silver necklace around her neck. It struck Brynne, Mom had kept so many secrets.
And Brynne had blindly accepted they were just a couple of middle-aged women sharing the mortgage to avoid facing the truth.
Brynne grabbed the bookcase to steady herself. How could they keep their love a complete secret all those years? “How could Mom be afraid I’d reject her? Because I wouldn’t have. Never.”
“It wasn’t just you, honey. Like I said, it was a whole lot of other things.”
Brynne made her way to Rory and hugged her long and tight. “All this time.”
“Well, we always joked you had two moms.” Rory tried to make light of a tragic situation but they wound up crying instead.
Later, as Brynne prepared to leave, still feeling dizzy over finally knowing what she’d always suspected, Rory grabbed her arm.
“I totally forgot to tell you, Allison did send a flower arrangement to the funeral home, but the shop clerk wouldn’t share the return address or phone number. Something about not divulging personal information. I told her it was to send a belated thank-you card, and she said she’d check with the owner and get back to us.”
Finally, a lead.
* * *
Brynne had a lot to apologize for to Lacy and Eva. But in all fairness, so did they. She’d been rude and angry and they’d been pimping Paul to her, so she left without hardly a goodbye last night. Now she also had one more huge revelation she wasn’t ready to share yet. She knocked on their door with trepidation, expecting them to close it in her face.
Instead, “Hi,” Zack said, his usual smile in place. “Come in.”
“Are my sisters here?” Still shaken from that morning, she donned her big-girl panties and carried on.
Though a bit sheepish, both Eva and Lacy smiled when they saw her, and as soon as Brynne said the magic words—“I’m so sorry”—they joined in “We are, too” and they had a group hug.
“Can you forgive me?”
“We already have,” Lacy was quick to add. “We talked about things last night and realized you were right. We showed up in town and immediately started acting like we knew what was best for you. Wasn’t fair of us.”
“Nothing can come between us now that we’ve found each other,” Eva said.
With the unconditional love filling the room, Brynne smiled and fought back the misty eyes threatening to break free and sob. “That’s not the only reason I’m here. I’ve found a lead.”
“About us?” Lacy nearly squealed.
“Our birth?” Eva sounded more restrained, but she was obviously excited.
Brynne grinned, focusing on the mystery of them.
A half hour later, standing outside the Flowers Every Day shop, they made their final plans.
As a lawyer, Joe was happy to step in if the flower shop withheld Allison Roberts’s phone number. But as the only known relative of the deceased Jessica Taylor, Brynne was in an awkward situation. “Why don’t you know it?” the woman could ask. Then Brynne would have to face the shameful fact she didn’t. It was just one more thing she’d have to take a long hard look at about living with Mom. Brynne’s eyes drifted to the bright blue sky.
They stepped inside the cozy and cluttered store, hit right off by the overpowering scent of roses, then carnations. The fragrance got Brynne energized. Maybe they could finally get somewhere today. Fill in one of the many blanks.
Half of the shop walls were painted with morning glories and the other side of the room with wisteria. Vases and pottery sat on every conceivable surface of rustic tables and shelves, and in the back a bank of huge glass-doored refrigerators was full to the brim with assorted blooms.
Eva started with the line of questioning about Aunt Allison, and when the woman hesitated, Joe came to the rescue.
“Why don’t you call her and ask if she’s willing to give us her contact information? It’s really that simple,” Joe said to the owner, Eva at his side, as Brynne and Lacy looked on. They held hands as tightly as she needed, which was apparently circulation-cutting tight!
“After getting the court to open your birth mother’s health information, I forgot about other roadblocks,” Joe casually commented as they waited for the clerk to make the call. “With the internet selling our personal information left and right, people are fighting back wherever they can,” Joe added. “Maybe she doesn’t want to be contacted.”
“Then why send flowers?” Brynne couldn’t for the life of her understand. “And cards at Christmas?” Why hadn’t she ever thought to notice where “Aunt Allison” lived?
Lacy squeezed her fingers more, as if that was possible. “Something tells me we’ll be able to make contact.”
“I hope you’re right.” Brynne grimaced rather than whining in pain.
A few minutes later, the flower shop owner came back with a small piece of paper. “She agreed. Here you go.”
Lacy let go of Brynne’s hand to clap.
Brynne reached for the piece of paper, as though it was golden. Her pulse raced as she read first the address in Santa Barbara, then the phone number.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Eva said. “That’s where my house is—where Mom lives now that I’m living in Little River Valley. It’s probably five miles away.”
Brynne stared, taking in the random coincidence. A huge clue to the how and why of their separation had only been five miles away.
“Let’s wait to call when we’re alone,” Brynne said, Eva and Lacy quickly agreeing.
“Tonight, after dinner,” Lacy suggested. “After the kids are in bed.”
“Works for me,” Joe said. “Paul, Zack and I, plus the entire male Capriati clan, have plans to hang out at Mark’s Tavern.”
“First I heard of it,” Eva mentioned.
“Guys’ night out,” he added.
Since it was the only pub-type bar in town, it made perfect sense.
They left the florist’s, and as everyone set off in their own directions, having been given a time to show up at the rental later, Brynne was at loose ends. There was only one person she wanted to share the news with. She took out her phone and saw a missed call with a message from Regina James.
Regina James? The hospital nursing administrator? The reason for her call set Brynne’s skipping through the next few beats. She missed her old job.
Sitting in her car, she returned the call, expecting to have to leave a message. After two rings the top nurse picked up, and Brynne introduced herself.
“Just the person I
want to talk to. First off, I wanted to let you know it is coming up on six months for your leave of absence, and you will soon lose your seniority and longevity pay. And there is the matter of your accrued sick and vacation leave we need to deal with.”
“Oh yes. I assumed I’d gone through all of my leave time.”
“We need to know what your plans are.”
Brynne’s nerves took a dive to her gut. She’d expected as much, but was she ready to give up nursing for being a full-time business owner? Her stomach muscles clenched. “I understand.”
“We gave you six months’ leave, and well, it was tough filling your shifts, especially during summer vacations, and now with the winter holidays coming. And something else has come up. I’d like to have a meeting with you tomorrow if possible?”
“Uh, do you think it’s necessary?” Probably an exit interview.
“It would be in your best interest,” Ms. James said.
Why did she feel like she was about to get in trouble? She understood she needed to make up her mind once and for all—she couldn’t leave her employer of eight years hanging forever. Or Paul? “Okay, yes. What time?”
“Nine?”
“I’ll be there.” Brynne hung up the phone, shaken and unsure. After everything she’d been through the past several days, this added push for a decision was overwhelming. Anxious and antsy, with her body crying out for peace, she speed-dialed Paul. She needed to self-medicate, and he, apparently, was her drug of choice.
“Is this your afternoon office time?”
“Every Thursday.” He sounded happy to hear from her.
“Can you meet me at my apartment?”
“For that kind of office time?”
They’d been known to share an occasional afternoon tryst during his scheduled office hours after his classes on Thursdays over the past two years when she had the day off. With things being a bit rocky between them lately, she understood his need for verification.
“Um.” With the excess frustration and anxiety she needed to work off, being with Paul sounded like the only way out. “Yes?”
“Be there in ten,” he said. Had the man ever let her down? She smiled gratefully to herself, the swirl of anxiety circling her letting up just a bit for the first time today. But he’d hung up before Brynne had a chance to mention she wasn’t currently at home. Which meant she’d have to hit the gas to make it there in time to meet him. As she drove like a demon, she knew Paul wasn’t the only one tired of waiting for her to make up her mind. The hospital was, too.
When she arrived at the bookstore, Paul was chatting with Nate at the front desk, and she’d be lying if she didn’t admit how happy she was to see him. He read the back of a book Nate must have handed him, so he was wearing his glasses. When he wore those studious frames, he always played into her secret fantasy about him. She dug making love to her professor! Her cheeks flushed, as they often did, at the sight of him. She may as well already be letting her hair out of the braid.
How obvious would it be, now, when she led Paul upstairs to her apartment? Nate might be young, but he was astute and extremely smart. They wouldn’t exactly be fooling him. She shook her head—seriously, who cared? She was an adult and so was Nate. And Paul was the biggest, most well-adjusted adult she’d ever met. He glanced up from reading the book’s dust jacket and smiled. Her heart seemed to shimmy.
Once inside the apartment, running from her past and future, she didn’t waste a second launching into his arms for the first order of business on the afternoon’s hopefully very, very busy agenda...
Later, curled around Paul and lying across his chest, in the semidark of the afternoon, after having equal parts stress, anger and blatant reassurance sex, Brynne put her head on his shoulder. With her hair damp from the strenuous workout with him, she knew beyond doubt she hadn’t taken after her mother in that department. Control freak, maybe. “My mother was gay,” she said, matter-of-fact.
Sublimely relaxed, he could barely lift his head. “I knew that.”
Her head bolted upright. “How did you know, when I wasn’t sure?”
“I just knew.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I assumed you knew, and we didn’t need to talk about it, because it didn’t matter to me or you. It was just who she was.” Spoken like a man on the right side of a decision.
She rolled off him.
“They also looked lovingly at each other...a lot. And fought like cats! Ugh, I turned a blind eye.”
“Maybe.”
“What if she thought my love was conditional on her not being a lesbian, and that’s why she never came out to me? That makes me sad. So, so sad.”
Paul pulled Brynne to him, circling her with his arms and holding her close. He kissed her temple. “We may never know her reasoning for not telling you, but she knew you loved her—that’s what mattered most.”
His answer had to be number 110 of the reasons to keep him in her life. So why was she resisting his one, most important request so hard? Suddenly she knew one more thing for sure.
She needed Paul. Again.
Chapter Ten
Thursday night, as planned, Brynne showed up at the rental house, with a new onset of butterflies in her tummy. Was it possible tonight they’d finally get the information her sisters had been after for nearly a year?
“Can you hold Johnny for me?” Lacy asked, handing the swaddled bundle to Brynne the moment she stepped inside. “I need to brush Emma’s hair. It’s this thing we do, and, well, with everything going on lately, we haven’t had a chance.”
“Of course.” How could Brynne refuse?
Lacy rushed up the stairs, and Eva was nowhere in sight. Probably tucking in her two little ones. Man, Johnny was tiny, and he had the cutest button nose. He sure had a lot of red hair, and his eyes shut tight like a porcelain doll. She cuddled him close, sniffed him. Fresh with the hint of spit-up. The thought made her smile. He squirmed and worked out some gas, which made her laugh. “It’s tough getting the whole eating and pooping thing down, isn’t it, guy.”
Standing in the quiet living room, she thought of another house, the one Paul had wanted her so badly to love. It was a great house, she had to admit, but she kept holding on to her excuse—it’s still too soon.
Tiny, ragged breathing sounds accompanied Johnny’s head turn and search above Brynne’s breast. “Sorry, little dude, I’m not your mother.” Still, he felt so right, so sweet, so wonderful. Was she ready for the one at a time deal? The idea still caused a shudder.
After Eva and Lacy put their children to bed, since the guys were hanging out with Paul at the pub, the house was as quiet as a library.
“Before I make the call, you two should know something I suspected but finally verified this morning,” Brynne began.
“Well, you’ve certainly piqued our interest,” Eva answered.
“After all the surprises we’ve had lately, I can’t imagine what else.” Lacy played with the forgotten pacifier in her hands, waiting.
“Like I said, I had my suspicions, but this morning I found a love note from Mom, and Rory admitted she and Mom were lovers.”
“Our birth mom was a lesbian?” Eva stated the obvious, wonder in her voice.
Brynne confirmed with a quick nod.
“I did not see that one coming,” Lacy said, bewildered but not shocked.
Still baffled by the situation, Brynne was glad to have sisters to share the information with.
“So they were secretive about it,” Eva said. “Why?”
“Rory was very guarded about everything. Part of the reason, she said, was they lived here, and marriage wasn’t legal for them, and part was to protect me, evidently. Not now, but while I was in high school.”
“And they just never got around to telling you?” Eva went to the sink and had a drink of water.
Lacy got up from her place across the table, came around and hugged Brynne. “This isn’t being sorry for you. This is about our birth mom never wanting you to know. It’s so sad.”
“I know. And confusing, because Paul said he knew, but it wasn’t up to him to tell me, and it was never an issue for him, so why would it be for me?”
“Which it wouldn’t have been, right?” Eva encouraged.
“Absolutely. Not at all.”
“Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive,” Lacy quoted Walter Scott, quietly.
They sat in silence, studying each other, offering supportive smiles and tender glances. Brynne was struck by the melancholy mood setting in and didn’t want to hijack the reason they’d come together tonight. The need to get to the bottom of their separation.
“Well, are we ready?” Brynne asked, getting out her phone as more butterflies flitted through her stomach.
“Wait! I don’t have to nurse again for a couple of hours, so I can have a glass of wine.”
“Then we all can, and I’m pouring,” Eva jumped in. “If there was ever a time for wine, it’s now. Red or white?”
“White,” Lacy and Brynne said in unison, knowing their personal taste, and not DNA, directed the unanimous decision.
“That got my vote, too,” Eva said as they chuckled over the irony.
Once fortified with half a glass of light and crisp vino, Brynne made the call, surprised that her hand trembled as she tapped in the numbers. The anxious stomach jitters from earlier seemed to have doubled. She put the cell phone on speaker mode and laid it on the coffee table. Then it seemed to ring forever, giving her time to take another quick sip of wine before an unfamiliar voice answered.
“Hello?”
“Is this Aunt Allison?” They’d agreed to start slow, admitting to one niece only.
Silence.
“I guess I should say my great-aunt Allison, since I believe you were my mother’s aunt? Jessica Taylor?”
The woman sucked in air then swallowed. “Yes” was all she said on a breath. Almost as though she’d been waiting for this day as much as Lacy and Eva had, though probably a lifetime longer. Then, after a couple more seconds stretched on, she said, “Is this Brynne?”
The Reluctant Fiancée (The Taylor Triplets Book 3) Page 14