Twenty-One
Only two days left.
Brooke stared at the X she’d just marked on the kitchen calendar, then reached up and added the single digit in the corner. She picked up her coffee, but the lump in her throat made it hard to swallow. So she carried the cup upstairs to her bedroom, where she had laid out several outfits on her bed. She was staring at them, contemplating what to wear on Saturday night, when her phone rang.
“How’s Meghan?” Owen asked.
“She’s fine. I think it’s almost run its course, and she’s definitely not contagious anymore. You’re okay, right?”
Brooke and her kids had been more or less in quarantine since Saturday morning, when Meghan surprised Brooke with a sprinkling of red bumps on her face. Brooke had vaccinated both her children against the itchy disease, but apparently Meghan was among the 2 to 3 percent who got it anyway. Owen had never had the chicken pox or vaccine, so Brooke insisted he go get vaccinated and stay away from the house, just to be sure. Brooke had stayed home from the store with Meghan all week. Spencer had attended the Fourth of July parade on Tuesday with Judy’s family, but otherwise he’d been home as well.
“I’m fine. Tell Miss Meghan I miss her almost as much as I miss her mommy.” He paused. “Spencer too.”
Brooke smiled as the now-familiar warm glow took over. “I’m sure we’ll see you soon. How’s it going with your uncle?”
Owen laughed. “I can’t wait for you to meet him. He slept for two days straight, then started helping me and Hunter around the house. He’s strong for an old guy.” Owen paused. “And he makes Hunter laugh, which is nice to hear.”
Brooke had been trying hard to put her feelings about the boy behind her. The apology had definitely helped. And Owen said he had a great work ethic. “So Hunter is working out okay?”
“Yeah. The kid has all the genes I didn’t get—mechanical, woodworking, etc. He can fix just about anything and has a natural knack for working with his hands. It’s been a good arrangement for both of us.”
“I’m glad.” Brooke could almost say that with a full heart.
“You decide whether or not you’re going to talk to your dad?”
Brooke had been telling Owen every night when they talked—sometimes for over an hour—that she was thinking about talking to her dad, for her mother’s sake, if nothing else. Mom had come by earlier in the week to visit Brooke and the kids, but she’d just seemed so sad. Brooke knew she was the cause of it. But surely Mom understood that her not telling Brooke the entire truth years ago was adding to the distance between them.
“I’m going to do it. Soon.”
Silence for a few moments.
“Brooke, I miss you.”
“I miss you too.”
“Oh!” Owen paused. “I keep forgetting to ask you. Are you going to Tallie’s party Saturday night? You can ride with Uncle Denny and me.”
Brooke swallowed hard. “Whose party?”
“Tallie Goodry. She was over here last Friday and invited us.” He paused. “She made it sound like everyone in town was invited. Don’t tell me you’re not.”
Brooke was surprised he hadn’t mentioned this sooner, but she wasn’t surprised that Tallie hadn’t invited her. “I guess I wasn’t on Tallie’s list.”
“Then I’m not going. You know how I feel about her. But she’d brought that basket of treats over to the house and said that everyone would be at her get-together, that it would be a chance for me to meet the community. So I said I would go, thinking you and I could go together. Now I won’t.”
“That’s ridiculous. You should go. Tallie knows everybody, so it really would be a great opportunity to meet Smithville folks.” Brooke deliberately pushed aside the image of Owen at a party with Tallie Goodry. Brooke and Owen had been seen out enough that word on the street was probably spreading, but not enough for Tallie to abandon her efforts to get her hooks in Owen.
“I’ll just call her and tell her I’m bringing my girlfriend.”
The glow returned, but only briefly. “Tallie and I have the same friends. She didn’t invite me because she wants to make a move on you.”
“So are you jealous?” Owen snickered.
“Jealousy is a sin.” Brooke squeezed her eyes closed, knowing she was a sinner. “I think you should go and meet people, and it will be good for your uncle too.”
“You’re the only one I want my uncle to meet.”
Warm and fuzzy feeling again, but . . . “Besides, I have this thing I have to go to Saturday night.” Brooke glanced at the outfits on her bed again, then walked to her closet and pulled out another one.
“What thing?”
She rubbed the side of her face, squinting, not wanting to lie, but not wanting to share either. “Something I committed to a few months ago. A dinner.”
“Oh.”
Brooke knew he was waiting for more information. But Brooke felt guilty discussing Travis with Owen.
“Who’s keeping the kids?” he finally asked.
“They’re going with me. It’s kind of a family thing, and the doctor said Meghan won’t be contagious. You’re only contagious for four to five days after the symptoms start.”
“I got the shot right when you told me to, and then I’m supposed to get another one in four weeks, but I’m pretty sure I’m not in danger of catching.” He paused. “So maybe I could come over tomorrow night? Or after the party on Saturday?”
“I’ll see how Meghan is feeling tomorrow, but it will probably be late when we get home Saturday.” She closed her eyes, hoping he wouldn’t ask more questions.
There was a heavy exaggerated sigh from Owen. “O-kay.”
“I’ll talk to you later.” She smiled as she hung up the phone. But the lump in her throat returned as she eyed the dresses laid out before her.
Patsy paced in the tiny kitchen of Harold’s shabby apartment, wishing the constant drip in the kitchen sink would stop. She stepped carefully on the uneven vinyl floor as she wondered what she could do to rid the place of the musty smell. This place made her apartment at the Oaks seem downright luxurious. Worst of all, the air-conditioning was on the fritz. They had it cranked down as low as it would go, but the temperature still hovered at eighty-six degrees. She’d called the apartment manager three times.
Harold was lying on the couch dripping in sweat, and Patsy wasn’t sure how much of it was from the heat or how much from the fever he’d been running the past few days.
“I should have taken you to Brooke’s, Patsy.” Harold was so weak. They’d been to the doctor the day before, and Harold had a bacterial infection, common to advanced liver disease.
She dabbed a cold rag on her husband’s forehead. “You’re not in any condition to drive. And I wouldn’t leave you anyway. But as soon as I have time to look, we will move to a better place.”
“I have money saved, and I’ve already put you on all my accounts.” He took a deep, labored breath.
Patsy wondered how much that might be since he’d chosen such a low-budget apartment. It didn’t matter. The hardware store was in her and Brooke’s names. And she had some money saved, a few investments. They’d get by.
She blotted sweat on his cheeks and smiled. “Remember that first apartment we had when we got married? This reminds me of it.”
He smiled back at her. “I think we had better AC at that place.”
Patsy shook her head and looked at the clock. “It’s been three hours since I left the last message at the manager’s office. What’s wrong with those people? Don’t they know it’s supposed to be a hundred degrees tomorrow?”
She was worried about Harold. His fever still hadn’t broken after a few doses of the antibiotic. Should she call an ambulance or wait until Monday to see the doctor? They could hardly ask Brooke to take them. Brooke was probably on her way to Houston anyway. Today was the day. Patsy knew Brooke was both anticipating and dreading this evening, which she’d been counting down for months. She hoped it turned out to be a good evening for Brooke and the children. But she couldn’t help but be a little worried, knowing her daughter was so far away.
Sighing, she listened to the drip in the kitchen as the temperature continued to rise, hoping to hear from the landlord soon.
Brooke braided Meghan’s hair, then twisted it atop her head.
“Daddy always liked my hair like this. He said I looked like a princess.”
Brooke smiled, hoping that Meghan would always remember things like that about Travis. “You do look like a beautiful princess.” She kissed her on the cheek, glad that only a few small bumps were left, then ran her hand along the white ruffles at the bottom of Meghan’s pink dress.
Spencer joined them in the living room wearing black slacks, a white long-sleeved shirt, and no belt, though Brooke had asked him to wear one. Spencer hated belts. Choose your battles. She let it go. Today was not the day to get in an argument with her son. “You look very handsome.”
Spencer grabbed his trouser legs and fidgeted, avoiding Brooke’s eyes. “You look pretty.” He spoke softly, but Brooke wasn’t sure she’d ever been more touched in her life.
“Thank you,” she managed to whisper. She was glad she’d chosen her peach-colored suit. It had been Travis’s favorite.
“You ready?” She glanced back and forth between her children, knowing this would be a hard couple of hours for all of them.
Meghan and Spencer nodded, so they set off on their two-hour trip. Brooke had talked briefly to Owen last night, and he’d left her a message earlier today, but she hadn’t called him back. This was a day to remember Travis. But the farther out of town she got, the more she thought about Tallie’s party and the fact that Owen would be there.
She wasn’t surprised when it started to rain on the way to Houston. It had poured the day of Travis’s funeral as well. Her mother had said that when it rained during a funeral, it meant the angels were taking the soul to heaven. Brooke smiled, hoping the angels would be with them today too.
It was nearing six o’clock when they arrived at Carrabba’s Italian Grill in Houston. She took a deep breath. She hadn’t seen Travis’s parents since Christmas before last, even though LeeAnn and Chuck had asked Brooke and the kids repeatedly to visit them in Colorado, where they’d lived for the past four years. Going there without Travis had been more than Brooke could bear. But when LeeAnn told Brooke months ago that they’d be stopping in Houston on the way to board a cruise ship, Brooke hadn’t been able to think of an excuse for avoiding a reunion.
She latched onto Meghan’s hand as they crossed through the parking lot. “Come on, Spence. We’re already a little late.” Brooke picked up the pace, knowing how LeeAnn felt about tardiness. Her stomach churned, partly from hunger, but mostly in anticipation of the surprise her in-laws said they had for her and the children.
Chuck and LeeAnn had always been full of surprises—some good and some bad. She recalled the time when Travis’s parents had bought them two round-trip tickets to Europe. Meghan was barely six months old at the time, and neither Brooke nor Travis was in a position to leave their stores for more than a day or two at a time. But when they politely declined the tickets, LeeAnn threw a fit, repeatedly telling them how ungrateful they were. LeeAnn and Chuck had gotten most of their money back for the tickets, but Brooke and Travis had heard about that one for a long time.
She opened the door to the restaurant. “We’re meeting someone,” she said to the hostess. “Chuck and LeeAnn Holloway.”
Brooke gave each of the kids a once-over and smoothed the wrinkles from her slacks before they followed the young woman to a table at the back of the restaurant. Chuck stood up when they got near and scooped Meghan into his arms. LeeAnn stayed seated.
“Look at my beautiful girl.” Chuck kissed Meghan on the cheek, then put her down. He shook Spencer’s hand before he hugged Brooke.
“Sorry we’re a little late.” Brooke walked around the table to LeeAnn. Her mother-in-law dabbed her mouth with her napkin as she stood up.
“We were early.” LeeAnn gave Brooke a stiff hug, the familiar smell of her perfume engulfing the space around them. LeeAnn hugged each of the children, then everyone sat down.
Brooke had never understood how Travis shared the same genes with these two people. LeeAnn was as uptight a woman as she’d ever met, even though her intentions were usually good. Chuck was kind but a bit on the formal side. Travis, on the other hand, had been as laid-back and gentle as any man who ever lived, rarely getting upset, and always with his heart on his sleeve.
Chuck and LeeAnn had left Smithville after they both retired from the school district. He’d been an assistant principal and LeeAnn had taught biology. Brooke hated to say it, but she’d been a little relieved when they moved. And even though he wouldn’t admit it, she was pretty sure Travis had felt the same way. Travis and Brooke had made a great life for themselves, but his parents couldn’t keep from harping on the fact that he’d chosen not to go to college. He’d loved them, but he’d found it hard to live in the light of their disappointment.
“How’s your mother, Brooke?” LeeAnn took a sip of white wine, and Brooke wondered if LeeAnn had a radar to know what Brooke would least want to talk about.
“She’s doing well. She sends her love.” Brooke picked up her menu, glad to see pizza was listed along with all the other Italian offerings. She turned to Spencer, who was seated to her left. “Do y’all want pizza?”
LeeAnn began questioning the kids, asking them what they’d done over the summer and if they were ready for school to start. They all ordered, the food arrived quickly, and Brooke was starting to relax a little until sweet little Meghan began offering up additional information.
“Our friend Mr. Owen likes pizza,” she said before she bit into a pepperoni-covered slice. Brooke swallowed hard, hoping Meghan would stop there. She didn’t. “When we’re at his house, we eat pizza and look for the secret bunker.”
Brooke forced a smile and shoved a bite of chicken parmesan into her mouth, avoiding LeeAnn’s gaze. Enough, Meghan.
“He’s not Mom’s boyfriend or anything like that.” Spence took a sip of his cola. “So you don’t have to worry about someone replacing Dad. Mom said that will never happen.”
“I’m sure there will come a time when your mother will start dating again.” LeeAnn smiled at Brooke. “When she’s ready, though. I’m sure it’s too soon still.”
It’s been two years. Brooke thought about what her mother had said, that she needed to get back out there. Then her head filled with thoughts of Owen—the kisses, all the cuddling. Was LeeAnn right? Was it too soon?
Chuck cleared his throat. “You wouldn’t be talking about the Hadley place, would you?” He paused. “Folks always said there was a bunker. Did someone buy it?”
Brooke nodded as she finished chewing. “Yes. A man from Austin. He’s living there and restoring it.”
“That’s a huge place,” LeeAnn said. “He must have a big family.”
“He doesn’t have any kids.” Meghan sat taller. “And he doesn’t have a wife anymore either.”
Brooke could feel LeeAnn’s eyes on her, but she kept her head down as she cut another piece of chicken.
“I see.” LeeAnn took a gulp of her wine.
Brooke knew her children would both want dessert if offered. She was wishing one of Travis’s parents would lend a hint about the surprise. “So what time does your cruise leave tomorrow morning?”
Chuck swirled his ice around what appeared to be a rum and Coke, his usual cocktail. “When we leave here, we’ll drive to Galveston, then we start boarding around eleven tomorrow morning.” Brooke eyed his glass and hoped one of them would be in a shape to drive to Galveston. It was getting late, and she couldn’t help but wonder how much they’d had to drink before she and the kids had gotten there.
LeeAnn gently clinked her fork against her wineglass, grabbing everyone’s attention. She smiled warmly at Brooke, and even though Brooke’s guard was still up, she smiled back.
“We’re so glad you could all meet us here. We miss not being able to see you regularly.”
Brooke sat up straighter. Are they moving back to Smithville? Is that the surprise? She loved her in-laws, but she was hoping that was not the case.
Spencer seemed to have read her mind. “What’s the surprise, Mee-Maw?” He put his elbows on the table, cupping his chin, until Brooke tapped him on the arm as a reminder not to sit like that.
LeeAnn reached beside her and lifted a large item wrapped in brown paper. “Travis was working on something very special before he died, something for all of you. He was planning to give it to you for Christmas.” She dabbed at her eyes with her napkin. “When we were here for the funeral, we snuck into your room—sorry about that. But Travis had told us about the gift, and he was so excited about it. We knew it was hidden under your bed, so we took it with us so we could finish it for you all. When Chuck got sick, we had to put that project on hold. But it’s just about done now.”
Brooke felt a little twinge of guilt thinking about Chuck’s heart attack. It had happened shortly after that Christmas when they’d visited. She’d sent flowers and had the children make handmade cards, but she probably should have done more. A lot more. Fortunately, he’d made a full recovery and was doing well now.
LeeAnn carried the item to Brooke and handed it to her. “We did the best we could with it. I know Travis would want you to have it.”
The object was heavy, and Brooke couldn’t imagine what Travis would have started that his parents would be able to finish. She started peeling back the brown paper. Meghan and Spencer got out of their chairs and gathered closely around her. Once all the paper was off, she balanced the wooden item in her lap facing her and the children. It looked kind of like a deep picture frame or a very shallow cabinet, about three inches thick and tall enough in her lap that she couldn’t see LeeAnn over the top of it. She could tell that it was very old, and as was Travis’s way, he’d left it in its original condition and chosen not to sand and repaint it.
There were nine wooden doors, each with a small doorknob and a window. In each window there was a name—Travis, Brooke, Meghan, Spencer, Chuck, LeeAnn, Patsy . . . and Harold. In the middle was a single door that just said “Family.” She opened that one first and began flipping through a little booklet of four-by-six photographs inside, groupings of them all together at various events throughout the years.
She let the children ask questions about different pictures as she fought the grief building in her heart. It felt as if no time had passed since Travis had left them.
“Open my door.” Spencer reached for the small knob. The booklet there held Spencer’s baby pictures, plus shots of his first steps, first haircut, first day of school, baseball games—his entire life. Meghan’s door was next, and the compartment behind it held about thirty pictures of her. When Brooke opened her door, she started to cry at the sight of pictures she’d long since forgotten about—group shots of her and both her parents in happier times, photos from when she and Travis were first dating, plus a selection of wedding pictures. More pictures of them together were behind Travis’s door, along with Travis’s baby and childhood pictures. Chuck and LeeAnn’s pages included a few pictures of their own growing-up years along with wedding photos and shots from an anniversary celebration Brooke and the kids had missed.
Brooke’s heart raced as she opened her mother’s door, filled with the life her mother had led before her father left them. She stared at her parents’ wedding picture for a long time, then pulled open the door marked “Harold Holloway.” All that was in it was another copy of the wedding picture and a few group shots from Brooke’s childhood that included him.
“Brooke, we didn’t have any pictures of just your father. Travis did all the pictures of you and the kids, and he’d gathered pictures of you and your mother, but they were loose in a bag under the bed. Honestly, we weren’t sure what to do in regard to your father.”
Chuck touched Brooke on the arm. “Maybe you’ll feel comfortable adding some down the road.”
Brooke thought about the bag of pictures that Spencer had found in Travis’s store. He must have been planning to add some of those. But the missing pictures didn’t really matter. This was the most exquisite, wonderful gift Brooke had ever received. Travis had poured his heart into this, and she missed him now, at this moment, more than she ever had.
“Thank you so much,” she managed to say as regret overtook her. She should have kept in better touch, especially when Chuck was sick. She should have made a point of it instead of wallowing in her own pain. These were Travis’s parents, and yes, they’d been a little difficult in the past, but they’d loved their son. Their loss was as profound as hers. And for them to have taken such care to finish this unique frame that detailed all their lives . . .
She swiped at her eyes. “I don’t know how to explain how special this is.”
LeeAnn walked around to Brooke and hugged her. It was late, so the restaurant wasn’t crowded, but a few curious eyes were on them. “We love you all. We’ve missed you so much. Please come for a visit soon.”
Brooke promised they would. She eyed the antique frame with all the doors again, knowing already where she wanted to hang it, but also wondering how she could replace her father’s name and spot. He wasn’t her family anymore.
Then like lightning, Owen’s face flashed into her mind. He wasn’t her family either.
What had she done? How could she even think of kissing him? It felt like a betrayal of Travis’s memory. Of their love.
Guilt wrapped around her like a thick blanket, so tight that she felt faint. She made a promise to herself.
I have to end things with him. It really is too soon.
The House that Love Built
Beth Wiseman's books
- The House at the End of Hope Street
- The House of Rumour A Novel
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- All the Things You Never Knew
- All That Is
- Into That Forest
- The Beautiful Thing That Awaits Us All
- Who Could That Be at This Hour
- The Blood That Bonds
- Not That Kind of Girl: A Young Woman Tells You What She's "Learned"
- Dead Love
- His Love Endures Forever
- Love at 11
- Love Irresistibly
- Love Saves the Day
- Paris Love Match
- The Beloved Stranger
- The Lovely Chocolate Mob
- To Love and to Perish
- Undertaking Love