Cocoon (2 page)

“Family is just accident … They don't mean to get on your nerves. They don't even mean to be your family, they just are.”

– Marsha Norman

D
aybreak's lifting velvet curtain soothed Seana as she sat on her back deck, one that stretched the length of her sprawling bi-level ranch house. Brutus, her faithful four-year-old red Lab, sprawled out next to her lounge chair, relaxed yet alert to every nuance of insect life and birdsong.

The eleven-room structure sprang from the crest of a twenty-acre farm, situated just barely outside the town limits of Paradise Springs, population two thousand. Its second-level, smooth wood balcony embraced her both with its comfort and incomparable cedar fragrance.

With its familiarity. Its continuity, when so many other things in her life had changed.

Seana inhaled deeply of honeysuckled air as the first sliver of sun peeked over the mountains, pushing back lingering primrose and lavender and painting the sky first pale gray, then azure. Coffee's sweet aroma brought her to here and now. She sipped thirstily, holding the liquid on her tongue, closing her eyes, and relishing its taste.

July's early mornings here were wonders to behold. Paradise Springs nestled in the South Carolina foothills, near the North-South Carolina border. Ansel had chosen the site wisely and built well. Not only from her deck but from each floor-to-ceiling window wrapping the back of the beautiful structure, Seana's eyes feasted on the distant blue Smoky Mountain range. The upper South Carolina terrain thereabouts was one of graceful rolling hills and valleys.

Seana's late husband, Ansel, had built it for her in the early days of their marriage. Had three decades actually passed? Incredible. She smiled and sipped her aromatic coffee. This was her dream home and had served them well as they raised their two children, Zoe and Tim, and on into their empty nest years until Ansel's death seven years ago.

His lengthy bout with cancer had allowed him time to set his finances in order. He had left Seana and the children well provided for. The farm was paid off years ago. Ansel's prudence and investment savvy had, in the end, ensconced Seana in debt-free comfort.

His love still, after he'd been gone for so long, reached out to her and spoke of his selflessness, evidenced by the legacy he'd left her. Ansel would forever remain a part of her heart. That certainty surrounded and embraced her this morning, and tears misted her eyes as she breathed a prayer of thanksgiving for all her blessings.

Then she reached for the fruit she'd earlier prepared, a mixture of sliced strawberries, local peaches, blackberries from her own back yard, a shaving of banana and, topping it off, a big dollop of vanilla yogurt. She spooned a generous scoop into her mouth and bit into the succulent, sweet fruit. Mmmm.

It didn't get any better than this.

Brutus's noble head lifted only slightly to acknowledge her feast before lowering again to the floor. Seana's son, Tim, had purchased him from a search-and-rescue friend after Brutus's early retirement due to a shoulder injury that caused a slight limp. And though it disqualified him for the sometimes harsh requirements in SAR, he could run normally, as their resident squirrels and neighboring cats soon discovered. And Billie Jean, her widowed cousin, too.

Seana caught his tea-colored eye and smiled. “Good boy.”

Her bonus was a couple of enthusiastic tail sweeps before he floated into drowsy canine oblivion.

An ear-splitting whistle pierced the stillness, jerking Brutus's head up to full attention. He sat up and looked at Seana, a question in those intelligent eyes.

“Go on,” she said, and he tore into a run, paws clicking loudly as he loped down the steps to join Seana's cousin, Billie Jean, on her morning run around the property. Widowed Billie Jean resided downstairs in Seana's rambling structure, an arrangement that had served well since Ansel's death.

Seana grinned as she watched the two disappear over the hill; Billie Jean, a compact, energetic woman with rich chestnut waves harnessed by white sweatband above running gear of red, sleeveless sweatshirt and shorts. White Reeboks kicked up dirt tufts with Brutus loping astride.

She took another long sip of coffee, and sighed.

The aloneness, Seana's companion for so long, now seemed almost elusive.

Almost. It was still difficult to completely let go of Ansel. He'd been the strength and solidity of their relationship while she'd been his “muse,” he'd always happily insisted. He'd let her be herself, with all her whimsical romanticism and free-spirited giving to and loving the entire populace of Paradise Springs.

All that changed when he died. Seana had to grow up, to a degree. Tamp down her childlike abandonment to life. Suddenly, she was at the helm with her children.

She and Ansel had set their younger child, Zoe, up in her ballroom dance business after she became enamored while studying dance in the high school Governor's Fine Arts program. Vibrant Zoe had found her niche. Happy Feet Dance Studio became a favorite hangout in Paradise Springs.

Entire families, drawn in by Zoe's economy family package deals, signed up in droves. Even children became proficient in fancy footwork. Smart girl, Zoe, knowing that if she could captivate the kids, the parents would land in the palm of her hand.

It was there, in the roomy yet intimate ballroom, that Seana and Ansel had spent the majority of their down time. They'd enjoyed dancing, but most of all, they loved the way it drew not only their family but other families together.

The coziness of it, plus the invigoration of dance, was intoxicating.

Tim, older than Zoe by two years, finished Clemson University with a degree in business. Upon his father's death, Tim stepped into Ansel's shoes. Seana had signed the lucrative real estate business over to her son, figuring that since she and Ansel had blessed Zoe with her dance facilities and capital to get her started, their gift to Tim evened out the two siblings's playing field.

Ansel's vast real estate rental and lease holdings, managed by a professional firm, remained Seana's legacy. He left Seana free to simply enjoy the fruits of his labors.

But all the wealth in the world didn't keep away heartache.

Following Ansel's death, Seana experienced a loneliness such as she'd never imagined possible. For years she remained convinced a part of her heart had been surgically removed and would forever leave a gaping, raw void where romance once thrived.

And then, she met Barth. Against all odds, she met him when she least expected to ever again
feel.

• • •

That Monday night, Seana had settled down in a chair at Happy Feet Dance Studio, chilling out. Tired after spending a good part of the day at son Tim's Howard Real Estate office, helping his wife, Sherry, with some paperwork.

She'd discovered how rusty her office skills had become. “I've got to take a computer course to brush up.” Seana blew out a frustrated breath and gazed at Sherry as she sat at the computer. “Everything is changing in cyberspace.”

“There's going to be a computer class at Tech in a few months. I'm thinking about taking a refresher myself,” Sherry said, stapling some forms together that the collator machine had just spit out. She reached down to give Seana a hug. “Thanks, Seana. You're sweet to bail me out of this paper jungle.”

“Glad to be here for you.” She glanced at her watch. “Oops! Gotta get over to the Studio.”

So there Seana sat that Newcomer's Night, one held periodically to welcome new arrivals to town and maybe infect some more locals with dance fever. Zoe depended on her to help greet those who wandered in. Too, Seana knew it was to get her mom out of the house.

Seana covered her mouth to hide a huge yawn.

She was weary and – lonesome. In a room full of happy, dancing people.

Lonely.

Seemed ridiculous. But there it was, like a daggum Grand Canyon chasm gaping before her.

Then she saw him. A newcomer. A stag. Most folks thereabouts came in twos and sometimes more.

Ambitious Zoe's coupons for two free introductory dance lessons littered the entire town to lure folks in. New resident Barth McGrath took the bait, moseyed into Happy Feet Studio and planted his long length in one of the folding studio chairs as far back into a dim corner as he could manage, fidgeting at his white starched shirt collar until he could stand it no longer and pulled off his paisley tie, folded it, and slipped it into his navy blue blazer pocket.

Seana witnessed it all that Monday night, fighting a tug at the corners of her generous mouth. Her tiredness dissolved. He looked about as lonely as she felt. Next thing she knew, she migrated toward him.

Tall and lanky as a Western cowboy, he looked so ill at ease and so nerdy she felt sorry for the man. But that only lasted until she looked through those thick lenses into eyes the color of roasted chestnuts and saw the vulnerability lurking there.

That he was sort of attractive behind those frames, in a decidedly rugged way, was the next thing to register.

“How about we show these folks how to dance?” she heard herself saying to him and was rewarded with a slow smile as he arose. The smile produced dimples as he swallowed her hand in his big one and in a blink had her moving with the music.

He was remarkably graceful on the dance floor being as how he'd never had formal lessons, he quickly informed her.

“I'd never have known,” she said truthfully.

“Of course I spent a lot of time dancing years back,” he added. “I really liked the disco era. Gave young folks places to go to simply dance. Like this one. Nice place. Who owns it?”

“My daughter, Zoe.” With blatant pride she pointed out her lovely brunette offspring, partnering with the town jock, Scott Burns.

“That her husband?”

“No. But not for lack of his trying.” Seana grinned up at him. “He's Paradise Spring High's athletic coach and is determined to win my Zoe. She's a challenge, something Scott cannot resist.” She whispered theatrically, “It's in his blood.”

Barth chuckled, nodding his head. “I see.”

Scott's pursuit of the wary, slippery-eel Zoe was by now what Paradise Springs's legends were made of. Big, strapping, available Scott was all-American good-looking, with his butch haircut and muscular physique.

Scott was at his best in contest. In this one, Zoe was the prize.

Thus, the drama played on.

Barth the newcomer was light on his feet for someone his size. And he was a quick learner and adventuresome, to Seana's delight. She hadn't had a good partner since Ansel and was excited to have someone so compatible, both physically – he was tall but so was she at five-eight to his six-one – and they both loved music and the pull and challenge of dance.

Yup. Seana felt herself relaxing and enjoying simply being, like she had not since Ansel's passing.

It felt good.

• • •

In those next two hours, she discovered other things the two of them shared in common. One was a love of anything literary. The other was music. The gamut from country to classical. He was a musician, actually, played piano, saxophone, and guitar. And though Seana's knowledge in holistic studies and health foods did not compare with his, she was fascinated by his expertise. He wasn't neurotic, just smart about good health choices.

“Where's your home?” she asked. “I can't quite place your accent.”

He looked at her long and hard, then chuckled. “Anywhere and everywhere.” When Seana continued silently waiting for a more thorough response, he shrugged, then added, “I'm originally from Canada.”

So that was why she'd not been able to discern his origins. Still, the dialect sounded a bit familiar.

“What brought you here to Paradise Springs?”

“A friend of mine lives here. He's been trying to get me here for a long, long time.”

“Oh? Anyone I know?”

“Keith Melton.”

A splash of pleasant surprise. “My pastor. Small world, huh? How did you know him?”

“College pals.” He didn't elaborate.

“So that's where I've heard the dialect before.”

It was like a door opened into a bright, new world for Seana. Oh, it wasn't an overwhelming love-at-first-sight thing. Not at all. Barth was first and foremost a new, interesting friend. A fun companion. They began going out together.

With him, Seana felt that long abandoned child within her slowly rising up once more.

At first her daughter Zoe didn't seem overly impressed with Barth one way or another. Which was not surprising. Zoe was not easily impressed. Period. Seana, after all, had not been romantically interested in a man since Zoe's father had died.

Tim, her son, was polite and characteristically friendly – yet Seana sensed his reservation. A wait-and-see one. His wife, Sherry, remained non-committal but polite. Granddaughter Ashley, now thirteen and shy, clammed up at first but – with Barth's winsome coaxing – then opened up and chattered like a magpie, endearing herself to him.

And to Seana. How she loved that little sandy-haired girl, a composite of Sherry's delicate features with Tim's soft brown eyes – Ansel's legacy – and gentle manner.

Barth was the perfect prescription for the loneliness that had beset her in recent years, since the children married and started their own families.

Their own lives.

• • •

Barth.

Brutus's bark of delight snapped Seana back to the present. The Lab lumbered up the deck steps to her side, panting and plopping down beneath her chair to cool down. She heard Billie Jean's door close downstairs. And she was alone again with her memories.

Barth.

Warmth trickled like warm summer rain through her as she remembered their time together last night. She'd invited him home with her after Paradise Springs Summer Festival. How had she ever not seen his beauty?