One Lavender Ribbon (39 page)

“Moving?” Sammie asked, hands on hips. “Were you planning to tell me?”

Adrienne waved her in the front door. “Nothing is set in stone yet. I may not even get accepted into the school.”

Sammie sailed into the kitchen and dropped the two bags of coffee beans she’d brought on the counter. “But you
are
selling the house?”

Adrienne answered her with a gentle nod and quiet words. “Yes, I am.”

Sammie rushed back out and slumped into a chair at the table.

Adrienne sat across from her. “I just decided this. I haven’t had a chance to talk to you about it yet.”

“You know what I think?” Sammie countered, hurt lacing her words. “I think this is a cop-out. I think you’re scared to stay here because of Will, and you’re running away.”

Adrienne toyed with the edge of the salmon-colored place mat. “Maybe.”

Sammie leaned forward. “You love him, and you’re scared you’ll give in if you’re here. So you’re just going to remove yourself from the threat.”

She was right. And Adrienne couldn’t deny it. She also wouldn’t change it. “My mind is made up, Sammie.”

Sammie heaved a sigh. “Can I tell you how I feel about this?”

Adrienne smirked. “I thought you just did.”

“When you came here, you said you wanted to work on who you are as a person. You wanted to be a stronger woman. And over and over I’ve watched you make tough decisions and burst through layer upon layer of weaknesses. But this isn’t one of those times. Now, when there is something on the line, something really worth fighting for, you’re just shrinking back into that old cocoon. It won’t fit anymore, Chicago. It’s a coffin. And now that you’ve grown, it’s too small. It will suffocate you. And it won’t take very long.”

Coldness snaked through Adrienne’s veins.

Sammie brushed at her skirt with frustration. “You have no idea how often I’ve envied you. You’re young, you’re beautiful, you’ve got so much going for you. But, I gotta tell ya, Chicago. I’d rather be a used-up, broken-down coffee-shop owner that lived life to its fullest than a young woman who refuses to live at all.”

Adrienne threw up her hands. “That’s what I’m trying to do. Live my life.”

Sammie pressed her palms against the table. “Look, I’m not trying to scold you. I just think that he continued to grow and you stopped.”

“What do you mean?” She’d grown.
Was
growing, changing, becoming the kind of woman she wanted to be.

Except, maybe she wasn’t.

Maybe all these decisions about taking her life in her own hands, steering her own ship really was a cop-out. It nearly killed her to sit at the table with Will and watch Pops and Sara on the balcony of the restaurant. All of them happy, moving forward while she . . . well, was her decision to sell and move an attempt to outrun the pain? The memories that were so fresh here? When she looked at the ocean from her back deck, all she saw was Will and Pops. She envisioned catching fish and throwing crab claws on their kitchen floor. When she walked upstairs, all she saw was Sara walking around with a book on her head, instructing Adrienne how to be a lady. All these things were just ghosts—ghosts from a past that had nothing to do with her future.

It didn’t matter that it hurt so bad. She wasn’t quitting. A quitter would curl up inside herself, inside her shell, and never come back out. Adrienne was trying to move on. Wasn’t that brave? At least a little? Sammie’s insulting words stung. “What do you mean he kept growing and I stopped?” There was a bite to her tone that she wouldn’t apologize for or feel bad about. Sammie was out of line.

“You told me that you were going to give Will time to change. You said that his big hang-up was that he didn’t deal with things, and he just let them fester. His parents being the biggest wound. But he’s made peace with that. He’s even made the choice to embrace Pops’s past, though it’s painful to both of them. Kiddo, the young man has jumped through hoops.”

Adrienne stared blankly at her.

“For you. He wasn’t asking to grow, but he made the choice to when you confronted him with it.
You
came here to grow, but now you’re running away.”

Adrienne wanted out. Sammie couldn’t understand. No one could.

She shrugged. “So he got mad when you did something that could have ultimately caused a lot of pain. Big deal. You took a risk with people you barely knew, but these are also people he’s fiercely devoted to. How else should he react? You sort of set the precedent, don’t you think? Then he reconciled with his parents. And instead of appreciating all he went through, you slammed the door in his face.”

Shock kept Adrienne from breathing. Everything around her was going dark, the haze closing in on her field of vision until all she could see was the woman she called
friend
.

Sammie suddenly stood from the table. “You know what? I’ve said all I’m going to say. You’re still letting Eric run your life. I feel sorry for you, Adrienne.” And Sammie left.

Adrienne stared at the bowl of fruit that sat in the center of the table. The apples were going bad. Tracing the ugly, brown spots, she reached over and plucked them one by one from the basket. The oranges still looked good. She loved the oranges here. She loved the selection of fresh tropical fruit that was available at the grocery store on the corner and the farmers market in the parking lot every Saturday morning downtown.

Her eyes scanned the house. This house. Her house. The one she’d found while searching “property for sale, Florida Gulf Coast.” Adrienne had made the offer with her entire being screaming to back out. There was strength within her that—though buried under the dirty blanket of Eric’s abuse—had been unearthed. She’d given the house time, love, and a fair portion of her blood. It had all been worth it. She could let it go. After all, it had given to her as well. She had learned she could make it on her own. She was strong. And even though she loved this house, loved this town, and, heaven knew, she’d fallen in love with several people here, she’d be okay. Without a second thought, she tossed the apples into the trash. Besides, Tallahassee had grocery stores too.

The morning of the rehearsal, the day before the wedding, Adrienne’s nerves were pounding out their own rhythm. She wanted everything to go perfectly.
It will
, she kept telling herself as she willed the butterflies from her stomach. Mary Lathrop had called her to say they had an offer on the house, but Adrienne couldn’t be bothered with that right now. Two weeks ago, she’d received the acceptance letter from the culinary school but was shocked at her own lack of enthusiasm over it. It was what she had wanted. She should be excited.

It’s the wedding
, she decided. She and Sara had spent countless hours on every detail, and in all honesty, Adrienne was tired. That was the reason for the lack of enthusiasm. Once she got some rest, she’d be excited about her new adventure. Of course she would.

Adrienne stepped into the ballroom and gasped. Though she’d been there late the night before, putting on the finishing touches, she’d been too tired to appreciate the space as a whole. Her energy had gone into things like adjusting a spray of white lilies until they were just right and spreading a shimmering white rope along the edge of the seats to let guests know where to sit.

Was this really the same room she’d barely noticed last night? Shades of white from warm winter to soft, billowy cotton were repeated in every portion of the decorated space. The elegance of her surroundings made her smile. It was perfect, and Pops and Sara were going to love it.

The rehearsal went smoothly, with gushing remarks from each new person who entered the room. Sara hugged her, thanking her and telling her that if she’d had a daughter, she would have wanted her to be just like Adrienne.

But Sara seemed reluctant to let go and hung there for a moment, arms draped over Adrienne’s shoulders. When the older woman released her, Adrienne scanned her eyes. Though Sara was trying to hide it, Adrienne could see the exhaustion on Sara’s face. It was masked by the quick smile that sparkled, but beyond the façade, there was desperation.

As Sara glided across the room, dread crept into Adrienne’s being. Had the bride-to-be just stumbled a bit? Sara reached a table and leaned there for a few moments before continuing on. Something was wrong. This woman had outwalked all of them at both the zoo and the Air Force celebration.

On top of that, Sara looked pale. Understandably—Adrienne herself was exhausted, and Sara had kept up a steady pace with her through the work and decorating. But Sara was in her late seventies.

Again, Adrienne watched her lean against a table. By the time the rehearsal was over, Adrienne decided to insist Sara go straight home with her to rest.

But it was too late. As Adrienne began to move to the entrance door where the happy couple were standing and talking, Sara’s eyes fell on her across the room. A moment later they were rolling back as she collapsed to the ground.

First, Sara’s weight slumped against Pops, who took a steady hold on her despite the confusion registering on his face.

Adrienne broke into a run and dropped beside her. Sara lay unconscious in a pool of soft white silk. Her skin had paled to a disturbing deathly white. Pops had lowered her to the ground and knelt beside her. “Sara? Sara!” He choked on the name. Will dropped too, and there they all were, surrounding the bride. Pops ran his hand over Sara’s still arm, mumbling incoherent words. The man who’d cheated death for over eighty years was crumbling.

Somewhere behind her, Adrienne heard someone say an ambulance was on the way. Various hotel personnel bustled in and out, but none were able to help. Sara lay quietly.

Peg screamed as she entered the room. She and Charles had gone to check the hotel room arrangements for Pops and to make sure he and Sara were booked into the honeymoon suite.

Charles dropped beside them all on the floor. “Is she breathing?”

Will removed his suit jacket and placed it under her head as Adrienne held Sara’s hand. It felt cold. Thin and cold like tree branches in winter. Vaguely aware of what was happening around her, Adrienne caught tiny snatches of conversation. People talking, gasping, wishing they could hurry an ambulance that would move on its own schedule, and no amount of looking at one’s watch would change it. But the only thing Adrienne heard clearly—and each word sliced into her heart—was Pops’s choked sobs as he cried, “No, please God, no. Not again.”

W
hat must it be like to lose a spouse? Pops had already suffered that tragedy once; it seemed unthinkable that he might have to again. Adrienne sat in the small, brown chapel of the Naples Hospital, finally understanding Will’s fierce desire to protect his grandfather. For it was in the moment of Sara’s collapse that she’d looked into Pops’s eyes and seen the horror of death. Living beyond your friends, your parents, outliving so many who’d died too young. As Pops slumped to the floor holding Sara, Adrienne understood loss on a profound level, a level that transcended her years. And the pain of it was unbearable as she watched the gentle man with the soft, blue eyes falter as his world tumbled down around him like leaves on an autumn day.

And it was all her fault. It truly was. Unforgivable.

At the hospital, they were notified it would be at least an hour before they knew anything. From across the room, she had watched as Charles and Will stood on each side of Pops, shoring him up. When Will’s accusing eyes met hers, she left the room. By the time she found the chapel at the far end of the building, she was nearly running. Trying to outrun the pain she’d caused. He’d been right all along. What a bitter, bitter way to find out.

The chapel was a narrow room with cushioned pews. She couldn’t remember ever being in a church inside a hospital. She sat and tried to draw peace, but her heart only filled with accusation. Softly glowing bulbs above lit the space, showering the walls and floor with gentle soothing light. It helped, if only slightly. Yet this felt like a safe place.

Adrienne turned as a mother and small child entered and moved to the front. They sat across from her, and she could see the weight of uncertainty upon them. The child, who’d been clutching a teddy bear, dropped to her knees, set the bear aside, and with eyes squeezed shut began to pray. Adrienne watched. Did children’s prayers work better? All that hope, all that faith in those little innocent bodies. Could their heartfelt prayer reach deeper into heaven? Probably. When they were finished, the mother and child silently slipped out of the room. Adrienne was alone once again, as questions assailed her.