When You Come to Me (45 page)

They each stood up, smiled in Brandon’s direction, and wasted no time in grabbing onto him like little boys, and they began wrestling, making their mother nervous, her, too soft-spoken and delicate to stop them. Mr. Greene stopped them, telling them that they each would have to do chores if they didn’t, and they all turned their attention to Natalie. She was amazed. They all stood in a line, and they all held similar features, stood tall at no less than six feet, Brandon the tallest, certainly, and each held the same masculine stature that Brandon and their father possessed.

Brandon left the line of brothers, came to her side, smiling, and said, “Guys, this is Natalie. Natalie, this is John [Brandon pointed to the one with dark hair like Brandon’s, with streaks of shimmering grey, a slimmer build and dark green eyes], Mark [he pointed to the one closest to John, the same one that Natalie had seen in the picture in the hearth room, who looked just like Brandon], and this is Matt [Brandon extended his long arms to the shortest Greene boy, with the lightest brown hair, and big brown eyes]…”

Natalie shook hands with each of the boys, each of them smiling, except for the eldest, John, who gave her a strangely cross look, who only gingerly touched her extended hand, who gave Brandon the same look thereafter.

She sat down on the veranda overlooking the lake with the Greene family at lunchtime, Mrs. Greene, having prepared cold sandwiches and a fruit salad, John and Mark’s childhood favorites. She observed their interaction, warm of course, but different from the way that she interacted with her family in Georgia. There was an obvious sense of reservation among the Greene boys, different from the rambunctious men that Natalie first met. Brandon, shockingly quiet, poked at his fruit with his fork. She placed her fork down onto her plate, rubbed his back slowly, as they listened to a story from the cordial Jack Greene.

The story was about Old Maggie, of course, a name given to the old woman by the retirement community, which she’d lived in for almost ten years, following her third husband’s death. Natalie noticed the way Mrs. Greene’s face looked, as Jack Greene recalled a time in the boys’ childhood that their crazed grandmother did this or their batty grandmother said that. Mrs. Greene, who’d barely touched her fruit, looked at her husband as if she wanted to keep him from talking about her mother that way, but the Greene boys seemed to enjoy it so much, each of them not being able to recall these occurrences so long ago.

“That sounds like Grandmother to me,” Matthew Greene said, throwing his napkin in his plate.

The breeze picked up then, carried Natalie’s waved bob into her face, and Jack Greene, said, “The wind is cooperating today…”

Each of the boys nodded. “Do you still have our fishing rods around here?” Mark Greene asked.

Jack Greene’s faced curled in thought. “I think so…they might be in the boathouse…”

“I think it’s a good day to go fishing,” Mark Greene suggested.

“Sounds like a good idea,” Matt Greene said.

“I’ll be captain this time,” Brandon said, smiling.

“Yeah…right,” Mark Greene said. “Surely, you remember the last time we let you steer, you twit…”

“Mark, don’t call your brother a ‘twit’,” Mrs. Greene told his son.

“Bottom line is, you’re not driving the boat,” Matt Greene told his younger brother.

“Yes, I am…”

“Father can decide…”

Jack Greene smiled. “Natalie will drive the boat…”

Natalie sat up, looked at Brandon. “No,” she smiled nervously. “I don’t think so…”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Brandon said. “And I’ll help her…”

“Brandon…no…”

He pinched the back of her neck, gently. “Don’t worry, baby,” he told her. “It’s a cinch, trust me…”

“Don’t listen to him,” Matt Greene said. “If it were a ‘cinch’, how would he have managed to capsize the boat?”

Jack Greene owned a 19-foot white pontoon with beige and navy trimmings, named Martha. It had been given to him as a birthday gift about seven years ago, by Mrs. Greene herself, when all of his boys were still living home. It was housed in a small, wooden boathouse, just off the pier. He kept it there in the off-season, when the lake froze. He ordered for his boys to retrieve the bass buggy, while Natalie watched, and they steered the boat to the side of the pier so Natalie could climb on, Brandon, reaching for her hands to help her down.

Matthew Greene then plopped a quirky, worn bucket hat atop her head, laughing at her, saying, “Now, you’re really part of the experience.”

She adjusted the hat so that it fit snuggly atop her head, and watched as the Greene brothers, retrieved their own fishing rods.

Jack Greene took Natalie’s hand, pulled her up, and moved her towards the steering wheel at the bow of the boat. Natalie shook her head in rebuttal.

“I think one of you guys should drive it,” she told them.

Jack Greene shook his head too. “Nonsense, Natalie Chandler, it’s a cinch…”

She’d heard that before, surely…

She looked in Brandon’s direction for help, and he started to move in her direction, as if wanting to, but his father stopped him, saying, “Now, now…she can do this by herself…”

No, she couldn’t. She needed Brandon. Yes, she could pretend like she was steering and then he would actually be doing all of the work.

But Jack Greene placed her hands on the silver wheel anyway, instructed her on how easy it was to start up the engine, got a little nervous when she felt the boat sway to the right a little.

“Don’t worry about that, Natalie,” Jack Greene coached. “It’s only normal…that’s it, you’re doing great…see, you didn’t need Brandon after all, did you?”

Maybe she did, maybe she didn’t. But she loved the way the breeze blew off of the water and hit her face, loved the way it smelled, loved the way the midday sun fell down on her, couldn’t believe that she was actually driving a boat! Ha, she was actually captain of a boat! Mama would flip if she found out. Those white people have finally done you in, haven’t they, Nattie?

Yes, Mama, yes. She was becoming one of them, and what a strange feeling it was, wasn’t it? She looked back at Brandon and he seemed pleased, smiled slightly, and winked at her. Yes, she was doing this all for him, wasn’t she? For the way his dark hair blew carelessly in the breeze, for the way he slouched carelessly against the side of the boat, for the way he stood up to his parents for her, for that sweet, sweet, lake air, reminding her of that amazing weekend at Hartwell that seemed like ages ago. She was only twenty then, and she and her Brandon were still so new, the feeling inside of her when he was around was fresh.

Ha…

She liked Jack Greene. He was carefree, possessed an easy smile, and had no reservations about touching her, about guiding her, about making her feel instantly welcome, had the same charm that made her go wild with Brandon, was inadvertently warm, lacking the coldness that his wife seemed to cling to for dear life. In short, Jack Greene seemed completely unaffected by the northern snobbishness that could potentially swallow him whole, a man of experience, warmth…

“Good girl,” Jack Greene told her, smiling patting her back. “You did much better than these guys right here…”

Natalie, feeling proud, returned to Brandon, who still sat while his brothers reached for their poles, and she sat next to him, allowing him to put his arm around her.

“Good job,” he whispered into her ear, kissing the side of her face.

“Thank you,” she replied into his face, kissing his lips lightly.

“Oh, please,” Matt Greene said, covering his eyes playfully. “Will you two cut that out?”

“He’s just jealous, that’s all,” Brandon whispered into her ear. She smiled, recalling what he said about Matt never wanting to get married.

“I think he might be…”

Brandon let her hold his fishing rod, and he stood behind her, showing her how to hook the bait, showing her how to cast it just right, watching the line go far, far into the lake, making a distant plopping noise. She was reminded of the picture in the hearth room with Brandon and his father, standing on the boat.

They held the rod together, and each time she felt a little tug, she squealed and said, “Brandon, is it time?”

And he’d only laugh, shake his head and say, “No, Tal, no…be patient…I’ll let you know when…”

“How’s it going over there?” Jack Greene asked, casting another line into the iron-colored water.

“Great,” Brandon said, pushing his body into her further. “She’s a natural…”

“Good to hear,” Jack Greene said. “Because if Natalie’s going to be a part of this family, she’s got to know how to fish…”

By dinnertime that second evening, she was able to distinguish whom each Greene brother was, what made them special and what they were doing with their lives. The oldest was John Abbott Greene, who had just turned thirty-one in the spring of that year, who’d gotten married two years prior, to a real estate broker from Albany, named Chloe, who was seven months pregnant. Deep-voiced and painfully reserved, Johnny, as Martha called him, appeared as if he was in on a scandalous secret that he would never tell.

Mark Mitchell Greene was twenty-nine, ruggedly handsome, with sincere green eyes, a wide smile, a playful personality, a wife of five years, Joanna, and a three-year-old daughter named Julie, who lived with him in a brownstone in Brooklyn, where he and his cheeky redheaded wife owned a dessert shop. Mark never seemed to take life too seriously, which Natalie could tell unnerved Martha Greene…

Matthew Barrett Greene was only one year older than Brandon, was pleasantly unemployed, and still enjoyed getting money from his parents, who seemed to have no trouble spoiling him. He drove a flashy blue BMW that his father bought him, wore croakies and donned bright colors and popped collars, and put more gel in his sandy hair than what seemed necessary. Brandon told her once that he was first in line to take over his father’s business, but didn’t want it. Brandon told her that Matt got a kick out of being a “freeloader”, but still bragged to girls that he was involved with, that every materialistic thing he possessed was because of his own doing…

Brandon was closest to Mark and told him everything growing up. He admitted that his older brother was how he learned about sex and girls. He once said that he always wanted to be like him when they were younger, always doing the things that he did, always wanting to go on his dates, always wanting to go play soccer with him and his friends.

“He was just so cool,” Brandon admitted bashfully.

He admitted that Mark was the only one that knew about him dating her, and was the first to know about their engagement.

“Let’s just say he knows a lot about you…”

And Mark was the only one that didn’t like Sophia.

“He couldn’t stand her,” Brandon admitted. “I guess that should have been my first clue that something wasn’t right…”

Natalie didn’t ask about John until they sat in Brandon’s old bedroom, only a few paces away from the guest room, amidst a quiet domicile of sleeping Greenes and a floating fall breeze, in a bedroom which still had a couple of Michael Jordan and Ken Griffey, Jr. posters hanging on the wall, and a boxful of baseball trading cards in a corner. They sat on the twin-sized bed, with the baseball-printed sheets and a ratty blue comforter together.

“He got into a really bad accident when he was younger,” Brandon explained quietly, his expression, seeming to relive each moment of it. “He was in the hospital for a week, and he didn’t talk for days after that…he was on crutches for awhile. He doesn’t like to talk about it. He hasn’t always been…that way…”

“You mean, all sullen and depressed?”

“Yea, you noticed, huh?”

Natalie nodded.

“Yea, poor guy,” Brandon began with a sigh. “If it wasn’t for meeting Chloe a few years ago, he probably would’ve been one of those guys who moves back into their childhood home at forty and lets their mom take care of them…”

“Thank God for her, then,” Natalie said, moving into him, letting him cover her with his arms.

Brandon sighed again. “Yea, she’s great…you’ll meet her at the party tomorrow…she and Joanna and Julie are flying in tomorrow morning…”

Natalie chuckled. “Bran, you’re an uncle…”

“Yea, I know…I feel old…but Jules is the most behaved child I’ve ever come across, considering who her father is…”

“Aw, what does she look like?”

“She looks like Mark,” Brandon said matter-of-factly. “But with dark hair…”

“Like yours?”

“Precisely…she’s beautiful…Julie Ann Greene…but it’s strange because neither of her parents have dark hair…”

“Pretty…”

“Well, Greene just makes any ordinary name sound pretty…”

“Oh yea?”

“Yea, watch…Natalie Chandler Greene…sounds pretty, doesn’t it?”

“Sounds nice…but what if I don’t want to take your last name? I think I love my middle name too much.”

“You’re taking my last name, Tallie,” Brandon demanded, tickling her sides a little. “You can be… Natalie Savannah Chandler-Greene…”

“Nah, that’s too long…I’ll just go with the first one, I suppose…”

“Tal, just as long as you’re a Greene, I don’t care what comes before it…”

Natalie looked at the baseball-themed wall clock just above the bed and sighed. “It’s getting late,” she told him, feeling him squeeze her just a little tighter.

Brandon followed her gaze and said, “Yea, I suppose so…I’m sure Mom will have us running around the house tomorrow like banshees before the party…”

“So, that means, I won’t see you at all?”

Brandon shook his head. “It looks that way…unless you want to help with some things…”

“No, I want to stay as far out of your mother’s way as possible,” Natalie said. “Did you see the way she looked at me at dinner?”

“Nope, didn’t notice,” Brandon said. “I swear your paranoia gets worse and worse everyday…she acted the same way when Mark and John brought Joanna and Chloe home for the first time…it’ll blow over…”

“You really think so?”

“Tallie, would I tell you if I was lying?” he told her, kissing the side of her face. “You should go to bed…you need rest…”

“Join me?”