A New Hope (13 page)

“Ohhh,” Ginger said. “That is so sweet.”

“I had no idea how devoted he is to my mother.”

“Are they in love?”

“I don’t think so, not the love we’d identify with. I don’t know if they’re like best friends, brother and sister or an aging couple. I think Mikhail is grateful to Winnie for all the years they were a team, while I was in training. He became like a father to me after my own father died. And of course, he took direction from Winnie, who had hired him. And Winnie took direction from Mikhail, who had great training instincts. I think he’s going to hang in there till the end. I don’t want him to be lonely.”

“And when you say ‘the end’?”

“No one knows. There are odds—most people don’t live many years after they’re diagnosed and Winnie was diagnosed a few years ago. On the other hand, there are cases of people who live many years.”

“How is she feeling?” Ginger asked.

“She feels pretty good. If it weren’t for weakness, trembling and fatigue, you’d never know. Her mind—sharp as a tack.” She chuckled. “They sure can throw the gibes back and forth, Winnie and Mikhail. They bicker like an old married couple.”

“You have so much to deal with,” Ginger said. “You’re very strong.”

“We all have so much to deal with,” Grace said. “Haven’t you figured this out yet? No one has it easy. I always thought the pressure I had on the circuit was the most extraordinary pressure in the world and no one would ever understand. Then I met others who had challenges entirely different from mine and even more difficult. Then I met
you
. You’re one of the most amazing women I’ve ever known. And the most loving and giving.”

“Aw,” she said, blushing.
Maybe a little too loving and giving sometimes
, she thought.

“I’ve been meaning to ask—I heard a rumor that Matt Lacoumette showed up Saturday night.”

“True,” she said, busying herself with some receipts on the counter. “I ran into him on my way home from the wedding.”

“And?” Grace asked, a twinkle in her eye.

“And what?” Ginger asked.

“Did you spend any time with him?”

“A little bit,” she said. “In fact, we drove up the coast a few miles to a lookout where a lot of people enjoyed the sunset. It was beautiful. I have a picture,” she said, taking out her cell phone and flipping through some pictures. There were lots of pictures of floral arrangements she’d created and then—two pictures of the sunset, texted from Matt’s phone. And one selfie—Matt’s arm around her, both of them smiling into the camera.

“Well now,” Grace said. “There’s a happy couple.”

“Just friends,” she said.

“But you’ve spent a lot of time on the phone, right? And you went to see him at the farm?”

“I was on my way back from Portland and it was on the way,” Ginger said. “It’s a wonderful farm.”

“So, maybe this will turn into something a little more than friendship?” Grace suggested by way of a question.

Ginger only shrugged, looking back at her receipts.

“What does Matt say about that? After all, he drove all the way to Thunder Point to see you.”

“I don’t know. I haven’t heard from Matt.”

“Really? But you gave him your new cell number, right?”

Ginger gave Grace her full attention. “I didn’t,” she said.

“You don’t like Matt?” Grace asked, looking a little surprised and confused.

“Sure, I like him. Ever been in love with the wrong guy, Grace?”

“Matt’s the wrong guy?” Grace asked.

“I don’t know, but I know what it’s like to love the wrong guy. To stalk him, follow him, call him, wait for his calls and even when they’re long overdue, melting into one big puddle because he finally deigned to go to the trouble of making a phone call. I did that already and I put that far behind me—I don’t want to ever be that lonely, desperate girl again—it’s just too painful and shameful. So, Matt and I talked almost every night. Then we went to see the sunset, talked and laughed and kissed. Truthfully, we made out like crazy—it was so nice. I haven’t had that in my life for well over a year, over two years, maybe. It’s been so long since I had strong feelings for a guy that weren’t all gnarled up with regret. You know those feelings, right? Think about him all day, can’t wait to talk to him at night...”

“Or in my case, can’t wait for him to sneak up the back stairs...” Grace admitted, smiling devilishly.

“Oh, that must have been so romantic,” Ginger said.

“It was so romantic. So, you had those feelings?”

She nodded. “And then I realized that once again, I was having those feelings all by myself.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“You tell me. We told each other deeply personal things, kissed like romantic fools, he said he’d call and he didn’t.”

“Well, maybe—”

“Maybe he was in a car accident?” Ginger asked. “Worried, I texted, asking if he made it home safely. And he texted back three words.
Safe and sound
. There was nothing more. I waited for days.”

Grace got a very naughty smile on her face. “And you changed your number.”

“Well, that was really overdue. I told you my ex called, right? He shouldn’t have my number...”

“You did this for a bigger reason than that. You can hang up on your ex.”

She laughed softly. “Oh, I did. He’s such an idiot—you know what he said? Something like, ‘Gee, Ginger, you’re a little hostile.’” She laughed harder. “Really? Me? Hostile? I wonder why?”

“You did this to show Matt.”

“Show him what? If he wanted to find me, he’d know where to look, right? If he wanted my new number, he knows where I work. No, I’m not punishing Matt.”

“You’re not fooling me,” Grace said. “And good for you! Ha! I did that to Troy, you know. Right before we got engaged. I told him I was pregnant and he said he had a lot to think about, to process, that he needed time to think before he could decide where we go from here. Before
he
decided? Like it was up to him and didn’t really have much to do with me! I was only the pregnant one, but hey—Troy would figure it out and let me know what we would do next. I told him to take a hike, stay away from me and be sure to let me know when he’d ‘processed.’ I was so done putting up with indecisiveness from a man!”

“I didn’t know you did that.”

“Well, I probably don’t look that stubborn. And you certainly don’t.”

“Oh, I’ll be the first to admit I feel a little sad that it’s been days and Matt hasn’t tried to contact me.”

“Maybe he has the flu. Or was finally put in jail and needs his phone calls to get a lawyer. Hopefully the latter.”

“Grace, this isn’t about him. I don’t think Matt has any ulterior motives. This is about me. I’m never going to that place again—that insecure, lonely, desperate, unloved place. I’m not waiting and hoping. If I ever have a man in my life again, it’s not going to be because I’m fantasizing, it’s going to be because he’s made sure I know it.” She took a breath. “Very likely I will be alone. But with this new start of mine, with a good job, friends, family—I’m not going to be that sad, disappointed person. I don’t want to be that person ever again.”

Grace leaned a hip onto the front counter, half sitting. Her hands were folded across that raised thigh. “Fair enough—you should never be sad or lonely. You’re too wonderful. But I want to tell you something. Coming from me, I don’t know, you might want to get a second opinion since I have so little experience. Troy was my first real love. But there’s something I learned. In love we’re vulnerable, Ginger. It would be nice if it were more certain and immediate, but the truth is—we have our worries, doubts and fears. We have to inch our way along. We have to discover trust. Sometimes we have to just believe in someone. And sometimes we have to know when to let them go.”

“I guess that’s what I’m trying to learn,” Ginger said. “It’s possible Matt’s just not ready. After all, he went through some heartache, too.”

Eleven

M
att brought a cooler full of dead chickens into the kitchen for his mother. She was going to pluck, wash, butcher and freeze them. Since he’d been hanging around the farm, she snagged him for butcher duty.

“Help me with this,” she said, throwing a headless hen in her work sink. “It won’t take that long. And I wanted to ask you why you put in such long days and such silent nights.”

He frowned. “Silent nights?”

“You’re at my table every night. And you’re back to being quiet and withdrawn. You think we don’t see?”

“I have things on my mind, Mama. Nothing for you to worry about. I’m not depressed at all.”

“Ah,” she said, plucking away with hands that moved over that chicken carcass like greased lightning. “Maybe you think about that pretty friend of Peyton’s, that Ginger. She looks like ginger, doesn’t she? Kind of golden.”

“I’ve been thinking about the farm, the house I’d like to build. It’s a big step, building a house,” he said.

“And how is that pretty Ginger?”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” he said. “I should call her.”

“Oh, I thought you liked her.”

“I do like her,” he said.

Corinne laughed softly, feathers flying. She held up a naked, plump hen. “I’m behind the times, but usually when a man likes a woman, he pays attention to her.”

“She lives in Thunder Point. I can’t exactly carry her books home from school,” Matt said irritably.

“I understand that. Just so you’re not confusing her with Natalie,” Corinne said. “They’re not alike.”

“I know that,” he said. “I’m going to go clean the mess in the barn. Then I’m going out.”

“Of course. Friday night,” Corinne said. “No dinner tonight?”

“I’ll take care of my own dinner.”

“Have a nice time. I’ll see you Sunday?”

“Maybe,” he said. “I put in a long week.” He wasn’t going to share dinner if they were going to be watching him.

“You did. I think you worked harder than Paco, not easy to do. The farm is quiet for now. You should take advantage of it.”

“I was catching up. I’ll see you soon. And you’re welcome for killing ten hens. Nasty work.”

“You made a quick job of it.”

Why couldn’t she thank him? he wondered. All his parents could do was get in his business.

He scrubbed up in the barn, then got in his truck. He had a problem with “that pretty Ginger.” First, he had granted himself a couple of days to think about things, about her. Then he realized he had ignored her, hadn’t called when he said he would and probably either pissed her off or hurt her feelings, and that took a couple more days of silence. Here it was Friday and last Saturday night he had promised to call her the next day. When he was younger he’d have pretended that he’d forgotten or he’d have made up some excuse
.

Ginger was too smart to fall for that. He’d been all knotted up inside because he was starting to need her, want her so much, maybe love her. He wanted to examine that for a little while, privately, with none of the confusion that came with having those long, quiet, intimate talks. Or the scent of her skin. Or the taste of her lips. Or her softness. Or the way she felt in his arms. He wanted to be sure he wasn’t setting both of them up for disappointment before he went one step further.

Then his mother, who knew everything, said, “As long as you don’t confuse her with Natalie.” And he snapped out of it. Ginger had emotional sturdiness; she knew how she felt. She wasn’t always thinking of herself first. In fact, how she could help others seemed very important to her. Whether they talked or kissed, she was so honest about her feelings, far more honest than he had been. This was a high-quality woman. And he’d been screwing around, wondering what to do next?

Before leaving the farm, sitting in his truck, he called her.

“This number is no longer in service.”

He tried it five more times. Then he called Peyton, who was still at the clinic. “Hey, Peyton, Ginger’s phone is disconnected. Something’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong. She got a new number.”

“Huh? Okay, I need the number,” he said.

“Why? You lose it?”

“Ah. Yeah. Lost it.”

That hesitation ruined him. “You liar,” she said. “She didn’t give it to you. Why didn’t she give it to you? Did she get a new number because of you?”

“No! No! I think it was her ex. She said he called her...or something.”

“When did you talk to her last?” Peyton demanded.

“Come on, is this really your job, deciding who gets her phone number? Give me a break, will you? I want to talk to her. Right away.”

“You screwed this up, didn’t you?”

“Peyton,” he said in a threatening tone. Then he calmed himself and took a breath. “Okay, listen, I might’ve done a stupid thing...”

“Shocker,” Peyton said.

Matt wanted to reach through the phone and strangle her. “Okay, listen, we were together last Saturday night after the wedding. I took her out, we had a great time. I wanted to see her again right away, it was that great. But I thought maybe I should think this through since my track record is, you know—”

“Shitty?” Peyton filled in.

“I was going to say
spotty
. Jesus, could you be any less supportive? I took a little time to think it through, okay? I was starting to have those feelings, you know? I scared myself a little. I made a big mistake with Natalie. I didn’t want to do that to Ginger. She’s too sweet to have some idiot like me make a poor decision and get her into something not good for either one of us. So yeah, I shouldn’t have waited to call her, but I had to think it through. So that’s it. I know Ginger isn’t like Natalie and I’m not like I was with Natalie and I thought about things and...I need that number now.”

“Wow, that’s kind of mature, Matt. Fessing up like that. Admitting you’re wrong and everything.”

“So? The number?”

“No,” she said. And disconnected.

He looked at the phone and told his sister he hated her.

It took him a while to get the number for the flower shop because he couldn’t remember Pretty Petals. Then when he called, Ginger didn’t answer. He assumed it was Grace and he said, “Hi. Is Ginger there, please?”

“Sure. Can I tell her who’s calling?”

The moment of truth, he thought. “It’s Matt. Matt Lacoumette.”

“Oh, hi, Matt. Hold on. She’s pulling in displays.”

He heard Grace summon Ginger, and then she came on the line. “Hi, Matt. How are you?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “You tell me. Did you change your number because of me? Because you’re angry?”

“No, of course not. I changed it because it needed to be changed and no, I’m not angry. But I can’t really talk right now—we’re closing up the shop and it’s busy.”

“When can we talk?”

“Hmm, let’s see. I have plans tonight, right after I get cleaned up. I’m going out to dinner with Ray Anne and some friends. Maybe I could give you a call later, if it’s not too late.”

“Ginger, I was calling you to tell you I know I screwed up. I didn’t call when I said I would. I hardly answered your text. I ignored you. You really scared me when my call wouldn’t go through. I should explain. I was thinking about us, about whether—”

“Matt! Matt! I can’t wait to hear all about it but I really can’t talk right now. It’s a little busy here and I don’t want to keep my friends waiting. I have to sign off. We’ll catch up later.”

She disconnected.

Matt sat there in shock. All confidence was gone. The Ginger he was falling in love with just announced it to the world. She would not be taken for granted. She wasn’t going to put up with vague messages and broken promises. She’d already been there once. She was all done with that.

And like a shotgun blast he understood everything. The whole time he was getting closer to Ginger he’d been focused on Natalie and a relationship that hadn’t worked from the start. That was mistake number one. Then he’d built a barrier of self-protection, aloofness. Distance from the woman he knew better after a couple of months than he’d known his own wife in a year. Mistake number two. So, mistake number three would be sitting there like a doofus, acting confused and licking his wounds.

A little fight replaced his sudden lack of confidence.

* * *

Ginger hung up and went back outside the shop. She rolled up the awning and dragged a big pot of colorful mums into the store. She stopped dragging when she ran smack into Grace.

“It’s not as though I meant to eavesdrop,” Grace said.

“Bull. You probably wanted me to put it on speaker.”

“That would’ve been helpful. So—what did he want?”

“Apparently he wants to grovel. I wonder when he figured it out? I think about ten minutes ago. I have to say, I’m very relieved...”

“What’s his story?”

“Well, obviously I don’t have the whole story, but I think the gist is—Matt’s a little gun-shy. He married the wrong girl. I think he sort of knew it all along and married her anyway, and of course it didn’t work out. And he likes me, which I think scares him. My educated guess is he doesn’t want to screw up again. You’d have to understand his family a little better to appreciate where he’s coming from. I know you met them, but it’s entirely different when you sit down to Sunday dinner with them. They’re so enmeshed in each other’s personal lives, it’s hard to have a secret. I imagine they’ve all given multiple opinions about where Matt went wrong with his first wife. Matt pretends to be completely independent and to not really care what anyone thinks, but trust me—he doesn’t want his family to see him make another mistake.”

“And so? He didn’t call for almost a week? What was he doing?”

“Brooding,” Ginger said, going back outside to fetch a couple more displays.

“I guess you snapped him out of it,” Grace said.

“Possibly,” Ginger said. “But the important thing was to snap
me
out of it. There’s nothing more pathetic than a girl with a ridiculous, moody crush, singing love songs to herself, kissing her own hand and fantasizing, checking the phone every five minutes to see if
he
called yet. I tried just turning off the phone, but then I’d turn it back on to check for messages every fifteen minutes. You want to make out with me in the bed of a pickup truck then string me along for a week? No, not going to happen.”

Ginger went back outside, pulled in another pot of colorful summer flowers, stopped short just inside the door.

“All this happened in the bed of a pickup truck?” Grace asked. “Ginger, might you have left out some details before.”

“It was so lovely. He had a sleeping bag to spread out, a cooler of soft drinks, a couple of blankets because it gets cold when the sun goes down. He said it was how his parents used to go to the drive-in movie and it was fun. And then all the other people who had driven to the lookout to watch the sunset were gone and it was just us—talking, laughing, kissing. A trooper pulled in to make sure we were all right.” She laughed. “Good thing it hadn’t gone any further, right?”

“Will you call him tonight?”

“Sure. If it isn’t too late when I get home. I’m not playing games here. I don’t mean to punish him. I just think guidelines are important.”

“You could just give him your number,” Grace said.

“I could have, couldn’t I? When I talk to him next, I’ll give it to him if he asks.”

“You might not be playing games,” Grace said. “But you were sending a message, don’t bother to deny it. And he got it.”

“I think we’re done out here,” Ginger said, speaking of the front walk in front of the shop. “Ready for the closed sign?”

“Ready. I’m just going to clean up my office and shut down the computer, then I’m headed home. I suppose you’re going upstairs to wash off the flowers before dinner with the girls?”

“I am. By the way, have I told you how much I love it up there? It’s like a little cocoon. It’s just perfect for me. I nestle in at night, flip through the channels or listen to music, relax, read, check emails on my laptop, fall asleep in my little nest. It’s so wonderful, Grace.”

“I know,” she said, grinning. “You tell me five times a day. Have I told you how wonderful it is having you in charge of the shop, opening and closing, taking orders, giving me so much freedom?”

“Five times a day,” Ginger said.

Ginger went upstairs to shower and change. Tonight was dinner at a Greek restaurant in Bandon and she was looking forward to it very much. It would be Ray Anne, Lou, Carrie, Gina and Gina’s daughter and stepdaughter, Ashley and Eve. Three generations, more or less. With the college girls home for the summer, their group had grown and become even more fun. Ginger got the biggest kick out of these college girls and their stories, even as their mother, grandmother and aunt cringed. She was feeling much better about herself since she started living independently and, in truth, since Matt had tracked her down and apologized. She looked good, felt good and didn’t look at her watch even once.

She was home at a little after nine, kicked off her shoes, dropped onto the couch while still chuckling over one of the funny stories told over dinner. And she thought,
Look at me—I have a life.
She would not have believed a few short months ago, when she was mired in depression and hopelessness, that she could have this—laughter and enthusiasm and anticipation. She couldn’t believe she’d ever look like she was among the living, much less look in the mirror and actually admire the reflection.