Caribbean Crossroads (27 page)

“Do you think I would do that?”

“Just being with you sometimes hurts.” He looked concerned, worried. “Because I so want . . . I yearn to”—she had almost said love—“to like you, fully, as me. But it’s a weak version. My heart, this part to care, feels so fragile. So many times I don’t have a clue what I’m feeling or why, and that means I’m going to hurt someone while I figure it out. I have to let my heart heal before I can fully give it to anyone. Especially you.” 

She prayed he would understand everything she hadn’t said.

Bryant caressed her hand, thoughtful, but his eyes focused on something else. They sat that way for how long, she didn’t know. The evening shadows fell across them, there in the entry way, sitting on the table, her head leaning against his shoulder. After a long silence, Bryant brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it.

“Okay then, that’s that.” In one final motion he stood up with her then walked through the agency door, got in his truck and left.

Megan couldn’t speak, her throat felt thick and sore. Part of her almost screamed at him to come back, that she was wrong, but she couldn’t utter a sound.

Lying in bed that night, she thought through their conversation like a looped reel, over and over, what she should have said or done. Why couldn’t she get past this already? A chime from her phone said she had a text. Looking at the screen it was from Bryant:

You have one more week. We can figure this out. But that’s it. Final.

And no more lame jobs or I file a formal complaint.

She smiled and held the phone to her chest, a warmth spreading through her insides. Could she figure it out in a week? She would. She didn’t want to play games but her soul didn’t sit right, not yet. But it could. When, she had no idea and no guarantee. But moving closer to it made her feel bolder and more able to make it happen. And she knew just what to say to Bryant tomorrow. Grinning, she lay back as several thoughts flitted through her mind, most of them involving some form of a picnic, and a skirt, and fresh made lemonade.

***

The country highway was practically empty as Bryant drove back to the hotel after his last temp job of the week. Friday, he was relieved. After a quick shower, he would head out to Megan’s real home about an hour from her apartment. He’d been specially invited—something about her brother coming home for the weekend. The sound in her voice had been unmistakably happy. But the joy of it was held in ransom for him until he figured out what to do.

He’d told her one more week without telling his family. Bryant shook his head—he already knew what they’d say. If only she could hurry up and figure out where she stood, to commit. It wasn’t such a difficult thing.

Intuitively, he knew she wasn’t playing games for the fun of it. Something held her, deep down, and kept her from committing to him. In past relationships, that had usually been his problem. It didn’t feel so good coming from the other side. Maybe that was it—his ego. Or impatience. Once he knew what he wanted, it was a done deal. But she was excruciatingly slow, and confusing. Why he stuck it out, he couldn’t understand. How much more he could take, he wasn’t so sure.

Bryant heard the familiar ringtone from his cell phone and smiled. Taking one hand from the steering wheel, he reached to the side, feeling under his work jacket until he found it.

 “Hey, little sis.”

 “Big sis to you.”

 “I guess you got that right, especially now. What are you, five months?”

She laughed. “Almost eight, so don’t mess with me. I can’t take you down but I can sit on you.”

Bryant frowned. She had joked but the laugh wasn’t in it. “Everything okay?”

 “Yes and no.”

 “Tell me about no.”

She sighed. He could see her ease into the chair and hold her belly. “Mom will kill me but I think it’s way past time you knew.” Bryant tensed. “Dad’s sick.”

 “Oh,” he relaxed and scanned the highway. “You scared me there. What is it, the flu?” Not that great but still, nothing to get worked up about.

 “No, Bryant,” she said, low and serious. “He’s sick. He’s been sick for the past six months.”

Something numb and cold started from his stomach and like an ink   stain spread up to his throat. He swallowed, awkward and loud. “What’s wrong?”

“They didn’t know.” She paused. “Second batch of tests just came back yesterday. Bry, it’s a brain tumor, small, but a very good chance of being cancerous.” Her voice wavered. “We thought he just had the flu, or was tired, or age, but then weird things would happen here and there. He’d forget Jakey’s name, or sometimes speak gibberish. Or act like he was going to speak, then walk away.”

His mind pinballed a hundred questions. “How long has he been like this? Did you get a second opinion? Why didn’t you tell me—was this before the cruise tour?”

He could hear her blow her nose. “Right before you left, I wanted to tell you but you know Mom. She thought the tour would be good for you and you had agreed, which shocked her. Then you met Megan”—she sniffed and blew again—“so she didn’t want to ruin anything. And neither do I, really, I’m not complaining. But Bry, it’s just too hard. The hours are getting longer and I’m so tired. And hormonal. And with Sarah and Jakey—who has been a handful lately.”

Bryant pushed his mind to process it all. “You’re not working, are you?”

“Mitch and I have taken turns and pitched in all we can, and it was okay, but we’re so worn out.” It tumbled without stopping. “And Mom is leaning on me, she’s so scared. Mom’s never scared. And Dad—he says, ‘Nothing’s wrong, Piper-girl, just getting old.’ Ha.” She spat it out. “But he can’t remember his own grandson.” She was talking in between soft sobs. Bryant waited for an opening. “Uncle Pete’s helped schedule him for surgery already. He’s the one that sent the results. Dad’s been there up a few times getting testing and resting up.”

The traveling. And Bryant had thought his dad had just been golfing. Suddenly it all fit—his mother’s pinched look, her lack of spunk, Piper’s irritability and fatigue. Dad’s worn face and hardly being around.

“And now Mitch and his job offer. He’s stalled them as long as he can, but it’s with Brinkerhoff.”

Bryant gripped the steering wheel, the tumblers falling into place and fighting a rising anger. Why hadn’t they said anything before now, why hadn’t they explained? And then he knew. The e-mails. The letters. Casual but there had been that tone, the underlying message that he’d heard, and heard wrong. All wrong. They weren’t trying to rope him into anything—they were shielding him. He thought of Piper, eight months pregnant, with kids, and doing the books. And Mitch with three kids and student loans, running the entire yard. They’d shouldered the whole load, and he’d been singing on a cruise ship.

He hit the dash.

With a single smooth motion, he barely slowed down and squealed the truck into a u-turn, barreling down the empty highway in the opposite direction. The shower would have to wait. “Piper, it’ll be okay. I’ll be home in twelve hours. When’s the surgery?”

“What? No, Bry, listen. Monday if you can do it, that’s when he’s scheduled. But I’m not trying to stress you out.”

“Twelve hours, maybe less.”

“But what about your job? What about Megan?”

“I’m taking care of it. Right now.”

Speeding heedless of consequences, Bryant screeched into the McCormick’s driveway forty-five minutes later, skidding to a stop and sending gravel spitting into the air. A soft blonde-haired woman holding a green garden hose turned to the sound.

Hopping out, Bryant quickly scanned for Megan’s face.

“Bryant, that must be you,” the woman called in a cheery voice. Seeing his darkened face, she said, “Is everything all right?”

That had to be her mom. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. McCormick. Is Megan here?”

“She’s inside,” said her mother, wearing a worried expression. “Do you want me to—”

He took the distance to the house in long strides. “I got it, Mrs. McCormick.” He stomped onto the porch and opened the door.

Megan turned from the fridge with a bowl of cut apples in time to see Bryant enter the room.

Her face flushed with pleasure. Recovering, she put down the bowl and said, “Free food, I knew you’d come early.”

Bryant strode into the room and stopped dead in front of her. “That,” he said, chest rising and falling, “stops now. And any other sarcastic or hostile comment you’re possibly about to make.”

Megan opened her mouth but nothing came out.

“For months I’ve done everything I can to show you how I feel. I’ve dug ditches, cleaned sewer pipes, did whatever grunt job you gave me.” His eyes, she couldn’t turn away. They burned, electric and crackling. “I’ve listened, and I’ve tried to understand, even when you pushed me away. And I am done.”

He stepped closer, his face inches away. “I need to know. What do you feel for me?”

Searching him, she took in his eyes, his energy. “I—I don’t—”

And then he pulled her in, with one arm, then both, and kissed her full and strong. He completely enveloped her senses, declaring his feelings, demanding an answer. Megan couldn't help but respond, feeling overwhelmed by a rush of sensations—heady sparks and tingles that gave way to a deep, rising yearning for a closeness she’d never felt before—until she finally pulled herself away to catch her breath.

He bored into her eyes. “It’s not complicated. I love you. I want you, with me, by my side.” His voice was low and pulsing with emotion. “I’m leaving, right now. When you figure out what you’re doing, you call me. Maybe I’ll be around. Maybe I won’t. But I am done.”

With one final penetrating look, he turned and strode across the room, slamming the door behind him.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Eleven hours later, Bryant got out of his truck just as Mitch met him in the parking lot of the lumber yard, looking worse than Bryant felt.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” said Mitch. “I heard you drove through the night—thanks.”

Bryant shrugged it off. “Where’s Dad?”

“He’s at the hospital for his last appointment, but he’ll be home tonight. Ross says he can take care of things for a couple of days, but—”

“Yeah, I know how Ross is. Don’t worry about a thing.”

“Listen, about the offer, I can ask them to hold it, they know that Dad’s sick.” He paused, hesitant. “I need to wait until I know you’re in.”

“I’m in right now. Go call them.”

“Are you sure?”

“If you make me beg, I will, but it isn’t pretty.” Bryant grabbed the hardhat from Mitch, then took his outstretched hand and tugged him in for a slapping bear hug. “I’m sorry, Mitch, that I wasn’t here. Real sorry.”

Mitch stood back. “Well, you’re here now. And just in time. I about fell asleep on the chop saw yesterday.”

They walked into the yard, Mitch pointing and catching him up along the way. All the while hard, angry feelings balled inside Bryant. Megan hadn’t rejected him outright, but her not coming, not budging, was a rejection sure enough. In a way he could feel it wasn’t her fault, but still, she wasn’t willing to get rid of whatever it was a little quicker, and he couldn’t wait forever. Suddenly he wanted to hammer something. Hard.

Stepping up into the trailer office, Bryant followed Mitch inside then let the office door slam shut behind him, closing the door on Megan McCormick.

***

Megan ignored the knock from her mother on the small bedroom door. You wouldn’t have known it used to be her room, almost all signs blocked by cardboard boxes holding her family’s history in decorations and knickknacks.

After a night and most of the day since Bryant’s stormy good-bye, Megan still didn’t know what to do—well, except one idea. Her mom had taken on her usual all-is-well demeanor, still humming in a falsely cheery mood while cleaning the house. She was no help. Jillian was semi-officially still on her honeymoon. Megan offered yet another silent prayer to understand what to do next. 

Her chest hurt with feeling things, conflicting things. One minute she felt his kiss from last night—never had he been like that with her, so encompassing she could hardly breathe. And feelings shooting and tingling all over her body—it had been shocking, thrilling, overwhelming. Then the pain of watching him leave, actually walk out the door and be gone, for good. No text, no call, nothing. He was truly gone. And then the ache began all over again, spreading from her ribs down through her stomach, through her veins, through her limbs, until she felt heavy and immovable. It was her fault, all of it. And yet, she didn’t know how to stop it, how to solve it, how to make it go away and have it be all better.

Then the anger. Smoldering from some place low she had felt it start to burn, and rise. Not anger at him or herself, but at the doubting gray feeling that kept her holding back, kept her confused.

But this time, she could feel something else taking over. The Old-New Megan was not going to need three months on a cruise ship to get it together. No, the desire to do was there—but exactly what, and what wouldn’t worsen the situation—those were the questions.

She pursed her lips. The idea came to mind again. It was worth a shot. And it certainly couldn’t make things worse.

Calling directory assistance, Megan hoped she had the right one. She had tried his cell phone but no answer—this was the next best idea. Finally, dialing the home number, she willed her hands not to shake and took a few deep breaths.

“Hello?” said a woman’s voice.

“Hello, Mrs. Johnson?”

“No, this is Piper, her daughter. May I ask who’s calling?”

“Piper, oh!” Megan burst out unintentionally. “I’m sorry, it’s Megan, Megan McCormick. You don’t know me but—”

“Megan, of course I know you. Well, not in person, but certainly from the few juicy tidbits we’ve been able to squeeze from Bryant. Just a minute—” she could hear the sound more muffled. “Jakey, honey, that’s a no. Put that back, that’s Grammie’s. I know. Share your trucks with Sarah.” Then back to the phone. “Sorry about that.”

“Are those your children?”

“Yes, only two—and so fun—but some days it feels like I have ten. Anyway, where were we? I think Bryant’s at the yard. He didn’t go to the hospital because Dad will be home after the appointment, although things sound a bit more optimistic now for a successful surgery. Such a relief, and we’re so glad Bryant could get here quickly. I’m sure it was a shock for both of you.”