The Calendar of New Beginnings (15 page)

He sat back, drinking his beer. She didn’t let go of his hand, but took a sip of her wine as well.

“I hear you,” he finally said. “But I don’t want you to ever think you can’t come to us for support. You’re our mom, and we love you more than anything. Promise me you won’t keep something this serious from us again.”

He didn’t want to say so out loud, but she’d done the same thing about her marital problems with their father. One day, after nearly forty years of marriage, she’d up and walked out, saying their father wasn’t interested in being married anymore. Unfortunately, she’d been right.

“I won’t make a promise like that, Andy,” she said quietly.

Her eyes entreated him to understand. But he’d also learned a thing or two at her feet. “Mom, I
need
to be there for you.”

“You
are
, honey,” she said, setting her wine glass aside and cupping his cheek again. “But I’m not your responsibility. You only feel that way because of all the pressure your father and I put on you as the eldest child in the family. I don’t want to repeat past mistakes. You’re a man with his own family. I can take care of myself.”

“No one doubts your ability to take care of yourself, Mom. That’s not what this is about.”

“Then?” she asked, searching his face. “You’re afraid to fail me like you feel you failed Kim.”

He hung his head. “You sound like Lucy.”

A soft chuckle reached his ears. “She’s always been a smart one. You might be a doctor, Andy, but you’re not God.”

“More’s the pity,” he mumbled. And because he was sure she was going to sock him for being irreverent, he added, “Think of all the people I could help on a daily basis if I were.”

“Oh, honey,” she said in that aggrieved tone he recognized from his childhood. “What do you think you do every day at the hospital?”

He didn’t have a response to that. Since Kim’s death, he’d questioned everything, including his purpose as a doctor. His mother and Lucy were right about him. In one very dark moment in the middle of a long, sleepless night, he’d asked himself: What kind of doctor couldn’t save his own wife from dying of cancer?

Fortunately, between his hours at the hospital and his responsibilities as a single father, he’d had little time to sit with that question. But this business with his mom’s health scare and Lucy’s eye… He was being faced with his own helplessness all over again.
 

“I’m glad you’re doing the calendar, Mom,” he said, reaching for his beer. “I’m all for anything that’s going to help raise money and awareness for breast cancer.”

“Would you be willing to be featured as one of the twelve?” she asked.

He gasped in horror. “Good God, no.”

“I was only teasing.” She laughed with gusto. “We needed to lighten up. I’m looking forward to being Miss April, by the way.”

“Not April,” he said, groaning. “Even I know you were called Miss April in high school.”

“College too, dear,” she added. “I was quite a beauty in my day.”

“You still are,” he said, leaning over and kissing her cheek. “Don’t let Dad spoil that.”

“I won’t. That I
can
promise you.”

 
They both reached for their drinks again and sipped in silence. Through the curtains in the kitchen, Andy took in the orange and pink hues of sunset. Fall was creeping into Dare Valley. Soon the snow would come, but for now, the leaves were starting to turn, resembling the sunset outside.

“I’m glad we both moved back to Dare Valley,” he said.

“Me too.” She let go of his hand, and he realized his chest wasn’t as tight.

“I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, honey,” she answered, draining her wine. “Since we’re on the subject of things I’m willing to share, would you kindly let your siblings know that I plan to start dating again? I feel a sufficient amount of time has passed since the divorce was finalized, and I’ve sorted out who I am and who I want to be.”

His mother was planning on dating again? He supposed he should have expected it. She was still young and beautiful and had a lot to give.

“Maybe I’ll see you out there,” she added, jostling his shoulder.

It took him a moment to realize what she meant. “Mom. Really. I’m still easing my way into it. I don’t—”

“I know you don’t,” she finished for him. “But Kim would want you to.”

That meant his mom didn’t know about the letter Kim had sent him. He’d assumed Natalie wouldn’t share the information with anyone but Blake, but he’d never had the guts to ask her outright.

“I know Kim would, but I have to be the one who wants to date again. Despite the agreement I made with Natalie.”

“That was smart of you,” she said with a slow shake of her head. “Those two belong together.” A pause hung between them, and then his mother said, “Speaking of the calendar, Lucy’s mother and I are worried about her. Has she told you the real reason why she’s back? She told her dad a few vague things about healing from an attack on a village, but that’s all we know.”

So Lucy had opted for a highly censored version of the real story. He considered his options for a couple moments. “You know I would never keep anything from you, but out of respect for Lucy, anything she might have said to me will remain between us. She’s my best friend, Mom.”

“But she’s Ellen’s daughter and as hard-headed as her father,” his mom said, her mouth suddenly grim.
 

Personally, Andy didn’t think Lucy had inherited her hard head from Harry, but he wasn’t going to say that to his mother. “I’m not getting into the middle of things.”

“Andy, it’s for her own—”

“Good,” he finished. “I know. But trust me. Lucy feels like you do about your life and your health.” Funny how he hadn’t realized how similar their stances were until now. “You independent women.”

She shook her fist playfully. “Don’t say that again, buster, or I’ll box your ears. If you ever have a daughter, you’ll be happy if she’s independent. Like me and your sisters.”

But they took it too far sometimes, he personally thought, though he would only admit it under duress or bone-deep worry. “You’re all rock stars,” he said to be agreeable.

“And you’re full of hog manure sometimes,” she said, standing up and taking his empty beer bottle over to the blue recycling container. “Since you asked me for a promise earlier…”

“Which you didn’t grant,” he pointed out.

“I bet you’re the only one who knows the real story about why Lucy’s back in Dare Valley, so promise me you’ll look out for her,” she continued, bold as the blue jay squawking in her backyard.

“Mom.”

“Andy.”

They faced each other down in the kitchen. “I’ll look out for her.”

“Good,” she said simply, giving him a warm smile.

But when he left a half hour later, he realized he hadn’t made that promise just because his mother had asked it of him.

Andy was used to doing things for other people—so much so that he sometimes forgot to ask himself what he wanted.
This
was something he wanted. He wanted to look out for Lucy for himself.
 

Chapter 10      

Lucy’s first class had rejuvenated her faith in the next generation. The celebratory beverage she had with her father at Hairy’s afterward made her spirits soar even higher. He shouted a toast across the bar, making all happy-hour-goers turn to look at them. “To my amazing kid, Lucy,” he said, hoisting his Guinness in the air. “And to all the young minds she’s going to mold.”

She wasn’t so sure about the mold part. It sounded too much like the green, stinky fungus. She preferred the image of being a lighthouse for young minds. But her dad was sweet, so she drank her pint with him and then had some heavenly fish and chips for the second time in a week. Her mother had wanted to bring her a meal to commemorate her first day of class, but Lucy had decided to draw some boundaries. While she loved her mother, she didn’t want her to start popping over all the time—even if her cottage was located in the boonies, as her mom kept saying. Like Dare Valley had boonies. It
was
the boonies.

Dr. Jeff kept her company at the bar again, and while she enjoyed talking to him, she didn’t want to give him any encouragement. Dating wasn’t high on her list of plans for her time in Dare Valley.

As she was leaving the bar, a car honked. She looked over and saw Andy rolling his window down and slowing his car to match her pace.

“Hey!” he called. “I was just swinging by to see if you were at your dad’s after your big day.”

“I decided to head out,” she said and then gestured for him to pull into the space at the end of the block. “Enjoy my new digs.”

He leaned toward the passenger seat window as she walked over. “How was your first day of class?”

“Epic,” she said with a grin. “Where’s the munchkin?”

“With Jane and Matt and Moira. I begged Jane to work with Rufus.”

“Good idea,” she said, resting her hands on the open window. “I could go back in if you want a drink.”

“Or you could show me your place?” he asked with a mischievous smile. “I’m intrigued by your description. What was it again? Strawberry Shortcake meets Jane Austen. Not something you hear every day.”

“I’m parked around the corner. You can follow me home.” Then a thought struck her. “Wait! Have you eaten? I don’t have much in my refrigerator yet. Dad gave me a mammoth serving of fish and chips.”

“Some things never change,” Andy said, shaking his head. “Mom fed me after our talk today.”

She gazed at him over her nose. “Talk, huh? That sounds ominous. You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice even and sure. “Now hustle it over to your car, O’Brien.”

“As you wish, Andy Cakes,” she said, giving a playful hip wiggle.

She didn’t hustle since she was healing. At her pace, a snail could have beaten her. Or a turtle. Totally embarrassing.

But Andy didn’t pressure her or act impatient. He pulled up behind her when she rounded the corner, then followed her on the meandering route to her house. When they arrived, she cut the engine and took a moment to soak in the view. Merry Cottage.

The yellow house with the lavender shutters and front door warmed her insides. As someone who’d intentionally chosen to live like a nomad, it was weird to feel this attached to a place. Over the course of her adult life, she’d made sure not to get attached to anything but her cameras. Otherwise it would have been too difficult to move on. Besides, early in her career, she’d reminded herself she could always return to any places that felt particularly special and meaningful. Unfortunately, war sometimes destroyed those places, which had taught her to enjoy the moment.

When she exited the car, Andy gave a shrill whistle. “You weren’t kidding about the cottage. It’s out of a cartoon. I don’t know if I can walk in there and retain my Man Card.”

“My dad said the same thing when he came over to mow the grass, but his manhood is still intact. I think you’ll be okay.”

He scanned the yard. “If you end up getting a poodle to go along with this house, I might have to schedule an intervention.”

Like she’d ever own an animal. It didn’t suit her lifestyle. “No worries there. Come on in.”

She dug into her purse for her key. Her dad had given her a key chain with the Hairy’s logo on it. The leprechaun’s charming smirk put a smile on her own face. Of course, most people didn’t lock their doors around here, but she would sleep better at night knowing the deadbolt was securely fastened. Opening the door, she gestured grandly for Andy to precede her.

“Ladies first,” he said, so she stepped inside ahead of him.

“Make yourself at home,” she said, looking for somewhere to drop her purse. Everything was still so new she hadn’t settled on the right spot yet.

“I have to say, Luce,” Andy exclaimed. “You sure know how to pick them.”

“It’s charming and homey!” she shot back, setting her purse down on the window seat in the parlor.

“It is if you like lace, tea, and crumpets,” he said, rocking back on his heels. “Seriously, Luce. I can see why this place hasn’t been rented, but at least it doesn’t smell like an old basement.”

Old basement indeed. “Would you like a beer? Dad made sure I was stocked for visitors.”

“I had one earlier, but I wouldn’t say no to another.” He followed her into the kitchen, chuckling under his breath. “What did your mother bring you?”

“Besides eggs, milk, and butter?” she asked, gesturing to the selection of beer arranged on the shelf in the refrigerator door. “Cosmopolitan fixings.”

“Figures,” he said, grabbing one of her favorite microbrews from Portland.

She took one for herself and handed him the bottle opener—another piece of Hairy’s swag—after popping her own. “To good friends.”

He clicked his bottle against hers when she extended it. “The best.”

They took a drink to seal the toast. “Come sit at my green 1950s aluminum table with matching vinyl chairs. Mom couldn’t believe it. Isn’t the set incredible?”

“Green? It looks…ah…”

“What?”

“Blue to me,” he said, clearing his throat.