Unable to keep the irritation out of her voice, Bryony said, “You’re late.” She clicked off the television, and asked, “Where have you been?”
“Lighten up!” Nathan walked into the bathroom and turned to stand in front of the mirror.
Bryony followed, her stomach roiling. She noticed sand on his rear end and on the back of his shirt.
“I took a stroll on the beach,” he answered.
His relaxed ways used to intrigue Bryony. Now they irked her. Clearly the relationship depended on her ability to bend, but how much, and in what direction? Clueless about whether to continue communicating her upset or resort to her usual forgive-and-forget method of resolution, she stood silent, watching him comb his curls into place, until the cell phone on the nightstand buzzed.
Bryony stepped over to look at the caller ID, picked up the phone, and slid her finger across the screen, worried. “What’s up, Mitch?” she asked. Her brother had said he would only call if there was a problem.
“You’d better come home. I can’t take off work right now, and Mom’s not looking good.”
“What do you mean?” Their mother had been fine when Bryony left Fieldstone. Aides were scheduled to come in three times a day to care for any personal needs, provide balanced meals, and a bath before bed. Bryony’s father could handle the rest, which would amount to making sure his wife did not walk out the front door and become lost before she exited her own yard.
“She’s in the hospital,” Mitch said. “I don’t know, Bry. She has a high fever, and some new medication seemed to make her worse. She looks bad. The assistant principal is out with the flu, and a couple of teachers called in sick today.”
“How bad is it?” Bryony asked.
“I think they’re all doing okay, just the usual aches, pains, fever.” Mitch answered. “You know, the flu.”
“Not them. Mom,” Bryony said. Her brother could be oblivious at times. “How bad is she? What did the doctor say?”
“I don’t know,” Mitch answered, his voice rising. “I don’t do this stuff, Bry. It’s your job. Be the daughter. Come home and take care of her and Dad. I have enough on my plate.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She was already moving to the closet.
“Hurry.” Mitch ended the call.
His abrupt goodbye and the helpless tone of that one word startled her. Mitch rarely showed fear, even when he lectured about his fears.
I’m afraid you’re making a mistake there, Bryony.
I’m afraid that’s not the right choice.
I’m afraid you’re not acting in your best interest.
Always he voiced his concerns with confidence bordering on arrogance. Tonight, he sounded like a scared little boy. Anxiety took root in Bryony’s midsection.
Nathan walked out of the bathroom and propped his foot on the bed to unroll his pant leg, spilling sand on the carpet. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“We have to go. Mom’s in the hospital. Will you please call the airline and book flights out as soon as possible? I’ll pack.” Bryony pulled both suitcases out of the closet and flung them on the bed.
“Slow down.” Nathan put his hand on her arm. “Come here.” He pulled her into his arms. “Breathe. It’ll all be okay. She’s a tough bird.”
While he stroked the back of her head, Bryony rested her cheek on his chest and took a deep breath. Gentle, calm, nurturing Nathan was back. She pulled away to look up at his face. “Thank you,” she said. “Thanks for not being upset about having to leave early.”
He smiled down at her, his eyes warm and caring. Unlike her father and brother, Nathan really was kind and considerate. He pulled her in for one final caress before stepping back to grasp her shoulders and gaze into her eyes. The air between them stilled.
“You’re gonna be fine, babe,” he said. “You’re always fine. Whatever happens, you’re the one who sees all the pieces and the order in which they need to be placed. You’ll go there, and before you know it, everything will be back on track.”
Her breathing relaxed. Nathan was right. One foot in front of the other. She could do this. Having Nathan made it all so much easier. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I wanted this vacation to be special, something we would always remember. I arranged for dinner on the beach our last night here.”
Stroking her hair again, he inhaled deeply, and then exhaled saying, “Ah, Bryony. You are so competent, so capable and accomplished.” Their eyes locked for a full thirty seconds. The vacation had been worth this one sweet, loving moment she would never forget.
Suddenly, Nathan dropped his arms to his sides and stepped back, the pace of his words quickening. “You don’t need me to come with you. The package you purchased was nonrefundable after a certain point, right? And I’m sure we’re long past the expiration date. No sense in both of us missing out on the rest of the vacation. I’ll be back in Fieldstone before you know it.”
CALLUM FORSTER JR.’S V-DAY PARTY ROCKS
Valentine’s Day at last! It was second only to New Year’s Day on Cal Forster’s list of favorite holidays. He had planned the mid-February bash commencing in—he checked his watch—T-minus twenty-two minutes. He had been at it alone since noon, and now his condo’s community room dripped with pink and white crepe paper hung above red tablecloths, plates, and napkins.
“At last, the long-heralded time has come,” a familiar voice said from behind him. “The Plain Dealer should cover this event—the Top Rated Valentine’s Celebration in all of Cleveland.”
Cal turned and hugged the man leaning on a cane. “Pops! How did you sneak in? You’re first this year. I should have had presents for those arriving first, third, fifth, seventh, and eleventh.”
“Your mother made up the prime number door prizes for your third birthday,” his father said. “She loved math.”
“C’mon on, Pops. Let’s sit for a minute.” Cal guided his ninety-six-year-old father to the couch and sat with him. “Who drove you?”
“Your sister did. She’s parking the car.” His father leaned back into the cushion. “I could have driven myself, you know, but Heidi insisted. I’ve been driving for eighty years and never had a wreck.”
“Except for that time you ran the car through your mother’s garden,” Cal said. “You crashed into the barn, killed a chicken, and almost did in the dog, who limped for the rest of his long, differently-abled life. If he’d had a sharp attorney, he could have sued your pants off.”
His father smacked Cal’s leg. “Don’t get smart. I was twelve years old. Didn’t know how to drive yet.” He looked around the room and harrumphed a few times. “You outdid yourself, Cal. You would have made someone a fine wife.”
“According to Mom, I was born for bachelorhood.” Cal surveyed the room. A large decorated valentine box, ready for the distribution of handmade cards, sat at an angle on the table, off-center. Symmetry killed the mood.
