One Lavender Ribbon (36 page)

Charles spoke, but it was barely more than a whisper. “I’ve never been good at sports,” he said in a mumbling tone, and Will wondered if his dad had lost it. “I can’t play basketball or baseball. Your mom beats me on the court.”

Alarmed by his father’s babbling, Will said, “What?”

But his dad was somewhere else, conversing with no one. “I’m a lousy fisherman. I get seasick when I even think about the water.”

Will’s tone drew his attention. “Dad,” he said sharply, “what are you talking about?”

Charles turned to face him. “I’ve always been so proud of your relationship with my dad.” He corrected himself. “I mean, it made me a bit uncomfortable, but not in a bad way. I just . . . ” He lifted his shoulders and dropped them. “I just always felt like an outsider looking in. I envied your closeness. You’re like a carbon copy of him. Baseball and all. I would probably be jealous if it weren’t for the joy I get watching you two together.”

Will tried to follow the conversation.

Charles straightened, chin tilting up. “My father and my son, closer than brothers.”

In Will’s entire life, he had never wondered how his relationship to Pops might make his dad feel. Charles Bryant was an intelligent man, but more bookish than physical. He couldn’t hit a ball or catch a Frisbee. Those things just weren’t natural for him. Fixing watches, though—well, that was in his power. And not just watches, but fixing computer programs and explaining the laws of physics so that a layperson could understand—that’s what Charles was great at. Will and Pops, on the other hand, were good at any sport thrown their way. Guilt, once again, tickled its way through Will’s system.

“When your grandma died, we were making arrangements to come home for good. I found out that you were planning on having Pops move in with you and—”

Will’s anger was tempered only marginally. This wasn’t a viable excuse. “And what, Dad? You just changed your plans? Yes, I wanted Pops to live with me, but you should have tried to stop me. You should have fought for him.” That’s what this was really about. His parents should have fought to keep Pops.

“Do you actually think you would have let me? Your mind was made up.” He placed a hand on Will’s shoulder. “Will, everyone has a mission in life. You and Pops being together is right. But”— he shook his head—“If I had known you resented it—”

Will cut him off. “I don’t resent it. I love that Pops is with me. I just don’t understand how you could leave him.”

“When Pops found out we were making plans to return for good, he was angry. Our work in the field is very important to him. He said the people there needed us much more than he did. He said he’d never forgive us for coming back and leaving them. Reality set in, and I knew I really couldn’t offer him very much. We don’t share any of the same interests. I can’t take him fishing or boating. I agonized over what to do. One night, I had a dream. I saw you and Pops walking to your boat. It might sound silly, but I knew what to do. I just knew.”

Charles pulled in a ragged breath and picked up a clam shell. He dusted sand particles from it and flung it out into the water. It went a third of the distance Will’s shell had. “I should have talked to you about it, though. I guess this is the hardest part of being stationed overseas.” He turned to face his son. “A lot of people raise their families in the field. Many kids grow up that way and love it. They have two homelands. But we didn’t want that for you. We wanted you to grow up near your grandparents, playing ball and going to movies with your friends. We weren’t planning on going into the field until you were out of college, but you were so independent. You didn’t seem like you needed us. Didn’t seem like you had needed us since you were fourteen and got your first job. Your senior year, the opening came up. It was a year out, so you would be off at college. It just seemed like the right opportunity.”

Why had Will never heard these things? He wasn’t the ball and chain that kept his parents from leaving sooner. It was their love for him and Grandma and Pops that had kept him stateside. They wanted him to grow up here.

Charles placed both hands on Will’s upper arms and stared at him with intense blue eyes. “If I had known how you felt . . . ”

“I never knew some of your decisions were based on what was best for me. Dad, I’m so sorry.”

His dad hugged him. “Well, Mom and I figured we’d only get five or six years in the field until we’d need to come home for good. But maybe we should have waited to leave in the first place.”

“Why only five or six years?”

“Again, you’re the timeline. We were going to wait until you were out of college. We figured the natural order of things would come into play. After college comes marriage and . . . ” He watched his son. “You don’t really think your mother is going to live thirty hours away from her grandbabies, do you?”

“Well, I’ve probably bought you some time.” He pushed his fingers through his hair.

“Adrienne is quite an amazing woman, isn’t she? I wouldn’t give up on her,” Will’s father cast a glance at his son.

“She may have given up on me.”

“Time will tell,” Charles said. “Will, I’m really glad we talked.”

“Me too, Dad. It changes everything.” Will placed his arm around his father’s shoulder, and they slowly walked back to the house, enjoying the warmth of the sun that illuminated the world around them.

As he stepped onto the back patio, finding the perfect vision of Adrienne, who looked up from the kitchen sink, another storm gathered, this one in the depths of her coffee-colored eyes.

Her mind was made up. As slow as molasses, resolve worked its way through her system and pushed out every thought of second chances. She’d watched Will and his father walk back into the house and could see the weight had lifted off both men’s shoulders. Reunited. Which probably only meant one thing.

As he stepped into the kitchen, where she had been neatly tucked away, Adrienne turned to face him.

“Can I talk to you?” he asked.

Her head tilted back slightly—like she was readying for a punch. “Sure.” She let him take her by the hand into the formal dining room that offered slightly more privacy than the busy kitchen.

He drew a breath. “You were right in getting Mom and Dad here.”

The room was freshly painted, all but the floorboards where she’d run out of paint. It was hardly noticeable. You had to search to find the dark grimy area. But Adrienne knew it was there. And though the rest of the room looked gorgeous, filthy floorboards were all she could see.

His eyes began to plead when he saw her detached expression remain unchanged.

She had sensed the joy welling up in him when he first drew her into the room. The joy a man has when his whole world is in perfect order. But now she saw concern beginning to seep through the cracks. “When will I ever learn to listen to your gut instincts? Pops is happy. He and Sara are together. I understand where my dad is coming from. You were right.”

Dark eyes narrowed. “Oh, I was right?”

“Yes.” He reached for her, but she stepped back.

Her face remained stoic.

“I’m trying to apologize here.”

She cut him off. “So, do it.”

A frown drew his brows together. “I’m sorry, Adrienne. Truly.”

“No problem,” she said, words clipped. She wiped her hands on a kitchen towel as they spoke. But she fiercely held his gaze.

His eyes flashed concern, trying and failing to gauge this reaction. “Okay,” he began slowly, “you’re still mad. I understand.”

She tossed the towel onto the table. “I’m not mad. I expected it, I was right, and now it’s over.” Her voice was solid and even.

“Well,” he stammered, “you’ve got a knack for repairing people. I just want you to know that, from now on, I won’t question your judgment about things.” Laughter from the next room drifted into the dining area to them. It deadened as it collided with the tension-filled space.

She blinked. “Not necessary.”

“It
is
necessary if we’re going to be together. I really care about you, Adrienne. You’ve brought me so much joy. I want you to know that I’ll trust you.”

Trust. What an easy five-letter word to say. “Thanks, but it really isn’t necessary.”

“I feel like what we have is special. I want to protect it.” He moved a little closer to her. “If we’re going to have a relationship—”

She cut him off. “We’re not, okay? We aren’t going to have a relationship. We aren’t in a relationship and we never will be, all right?” She watched as her words registered in his eyes, on his face, in his heart.

“But—”

“Look, Will, why would I choose to be in a relationship with someone who always initially thinks the worst of me? Sure, you always come back and apologize, but it’s just too painful, and I’m not willing to go through it anymore. Do you know what it feels like to have to walk on eggshells every moment of your life? I do, and I can’t go there again. I won’t.” She swallowed hard and looked away from the agony in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Will. I really am, but I just can’t.”

He pressed his lips together. His eyes pleaded with her, but she wouldn’t relent. She couldn’t. She’d spent five, nearly six years with Eric, hoping things would get better. Those personality traits didn’t improve. They only got worse.

It was almost over. He’d walk out of her life and she could move on, live a nice, quiet, peace-filled life. Paint those floorboards.

Then he said the unthinkable. His words, soft as a whisper but cutting as a knife. “But I love you.”

She pulled in a sharp breath. She hadn’t prepared for that. She hadn’t geared her heart or her mind to challenge that. A sickening cold rolled through her, leaving a wake of raw nerve endings. She tried to hold onto her convictions but could feel them slipping. “It doesn’t matter,” she whispered back, and it nearly killed her. “Sometimes love isn’t enough.”

It looked like he’d just taken a bullet to the gut. A fist closed over his heart, his gaze bewildered, searching her as if she hadn’t heard his admission of love.

Her eyes dropped from him, unable to look at the pain. Slowly, she turned and went back into the kitchen, leaving him standing by the table, shoulders slumped, eyes hollow.

Safely in the kitchen, her body began to tremble. Though heated by the sun-warmed window, she’d grown cold. Not the outward coldness of a brisk winter wind or an ice skating rink or the ocean on a cool night. She felt the internal chill that spread from the inside out. She felt the chill of utter loneliness.

Putting her hands on her upper arms, she hugged herself, willing warmth into her shaking body. But no matter how cold and lonely, she knew she’d done the right thing. She’d heard of people putting themselves right back into the very situations they hated, but she’d never understood it before, not until now. She loved him too. Loved him with all her heart, but how could she be independent and strong when he questioned her on everything? Love and trust, she decided, were definitely two different things. And now, neither was in her foreseeable future.

From the mailbox, Adrienne took in the picturesque home before her. A Victorian beach house. Nearly remodeled and shining like a beacon. No granite, though. But it had been worth it. Her fingers ran over the check in her hand. She’d had to fight with the granite salesman to get her deposit back and had almost written it off as a loss, when finally he conceded. It had been two months since the birthday party, and Adrienne stood at the edge of her perfectly manicured lawn, check in her hand. She’d take it to the bank later and send it to help Charles and Peg’s mission.

Pops and Sara were going to marry in three months. Will’s parents would be back for the ceremony. While stateside, their full funding had been reinstated. It would be nice seeing them.

She closed the mailbox door and tipped her head back, letting the breeze lift her hair from her face. She wished it could blow away her gloom. Adrienne missed the busy lifestyle she’d had when she was a constant in the Bryant family. But she’d thrown herself into her work, and the house gleamed with the fruit of her labor. Though it sparkled, it was as lonely as she was. She could sense it. It needed the warmth of a family, the touch of voices, and the caress of people. She could give it none of these things. This failure added to the despair.