Authors: Valerie Seimas
Faith
smacked him in the arm, never even opening her eyes. “I definitely felt the
earth move under my feet.”
Jackson
laughed, and she smiled. “Don’t worry. I have no more bombshells to drop.
You don’t have any other secrets that might be biding their time, do you?”
“You’re
well-versed in all my secrets now.” The mood morphed from teasing to heavy,
Faith’s unease growing into a living thing.
“So,”
Jackson said, “what do you want to do about it?”
“I
have no fucking clue.”
“
No
Fucking Clue
. Andy Peters' chart-topping song four years ago. Great
hook. Catchy lyrics. Not applicable to this situation.”
“Well,
unless I can buy clues like people buy vowels on game shows, I’m tapped out,”
Faith said. “I haven’t even begun to process this, let alone react to it. I
have nothing. I have literally nothing.”
“
Literally
Nothing
. Andy Peters – ”
“Jackson,
stop!”
“I’m
just trying to lighten the mood.”
“It
isn’t even close to working.”
“Faith.”
He pulled himself into a sitting position and paused, waiting for her to respond.
“Faith, look at me.” She uncovered her eyes, taking one last glance at the
peacefulness of the tree, and sat up, running her hand through her unruly curls
and clearing away the stray pieces of grass. “It’ll be okay.”
“I’ve
heard that before,” she mumbled.
“I
know. From me. And I always keep my promises, right?”
She
looked at him critically – the friendly smile, the kind eyes – and replied with
the optimism he deserved instead of the cynicism she felt. “Yeah, you do.”
“Not
much enthusiasm but I’ll take it.” He opened his briefcase and took out a
manila envelope. “Here. You need to sign these.”
“What
are they?” she asked, reaching for them automatically.
“Divorce
papers.” Faith recoiled, snatching her hand back. “Did you not see this
coming?” he asked.
“I
did not see this coming.” She’d just begun thinking about Dustin and her
together, now he wanted to cleave them apart again. Her mind was suffering from
whiplash. “This is too much. This is just too damn much.”
They
stretched into silence. “Do you want to stay married to him?” Jackson asked in
a gentle voice, his hand reaching for her shoulder.
“No!”
She opened her mouth in shock, aghast even at the thought. “I just… I just…”
His eyes were so kind, and she remembered that he was one of the only people she
ever let see her brokenness, the one she hid behind songwriting labels. She
closed her eyes and finished on a whisper. “I left him once and never went
back because I wasn’t sure I could walk away again. I don’t know if I can make
that decision.” Ten years later – did she feel differently or exactly the
same?
“It’ll
be okay,” he murmured. He reached his hand up to her cheek and pulled her in
close, placing a kiss against her temple. “You don’t have to do anything you
don’t want to.”
She
brushed her fingers against his elbow, comforted by the feel of his Italian
suit. “Thank you.”
He
leaned his cheek against the top of her head. “But we need to do something. I’ll
get a process server out to his house tomorrow morning. Divorce lawyers and
threat of lawsuit if he doesn’t sign or tries to contact you. You never have
to see him again.”
“No,”
Faith said on a sigh, the sound reluctantly pulled out of her. She pulled away
from Jackson and cast a glance back to the small citrus grove on the edge of
her property, her yard rimmed with lemons. “I have to go. I have to see it
again. I don’t think I can move on unless I see it again.”
Jackson’s
eyebrows knit together. “See what?” But then he followed her gaze and nodded.
“You want to see the tree.”
“Drunken
Faith really did tell you everything, didn’t she?”
“I
think so. But I’m going to go rent the movie just to be sure.”
Faith
pulled her car off the highway onto a narrow dirt road you had to know was there
to find. Dust flew up around her cute little Audi, and she cursed at her own
foolishness – but still didn’t raise the top on her car. She’d wanted to feel
the wind in her hair, remember what the freedom of the country was like. This
was the only remembering she was going to allow herself, and she was going to
soak up every minute of it
There
was a moment of indecision as the car ricocheted over a hole in the road – would
they even still be here? But that was her guilt talking. The Andrews family
had owned the property for decades; there was no way they’d part with it.
Dustin might be living in the city romancing blondes and singing in choirs, but
Peter would still be there. He’d never had the wanderlust of his brother.
He’d planted his roots and only an act of God would get him to leave. Which
was exactly what she was counting on.
She
glanced at the clock and cringed. It shouldn’t have taken her this long to get
here. Then again, she’d taken the most circuitous route she could – all to
avoid seeing the exit sign for the Sorrento Ranch. It had been ages; you’d
think Bea would have updated the signage by now. But nope, Dustin’s young,
handsome face, body astride a beautiful horse, still stared down at all the
passersby. Probably how she got three-fourths of her female guests. She’d
stopped admonishing Bea on her choice of advertising years ago; she wasn’t
supposed to care anymore, right?
Faith
glanced at the seat next to her, the manila envelope barely peeking out from
under her purse so the wind didn’t steal it. Jackson had reminded her of all
the things that could go wrong with a secret marriage; hadn’t her new
houseguests tried to keep theirs under wraps in the beginning too? The minute
it came to light all hell would break loose, and so many things could go
wrong. No way she’d escape that without being forced to see Dustin again. And
she couldn’t even handle a billboard.
A
twinge of guilt hit her, of not having the guts to face him or tell Jackson she
was visiting his brother instead. Across a restaurant dining room was as close
as she wanted to get. His smile from thirty feet away had almost put her down
for the count. She didn’t need Dustin even an inch closer if she was going to
make it through this – especially this week. She’d stop by and surprise Peter,
have an awkward hour of small talk and recriminations and teasing, hand him the
envelope, and ride right back into the sunset.
Her
car finally came up over the last bump, and she had a clear view of the house.
It hadn’t changed much, though the backyard bore signs of children. Her gut
clenched – almost ten years to the day since she’d run from that house at her
lowest moment. Her eyes drifted to the right, and she saw it – the tree was
still there.
The
Audi pulled up in front of it, practically of its own volition. She wanted to
get out and touch it, yearned to feel the bark beneath her fingertips, but she knew
the memories would come flooding back at the contact. It was bigger now, had
grown tall and strong when she hadn’t been looking.
She
hadn’t been sure if Dustin would keep it or destroy it. She’d thought about it
as some grand metaphor after she left, and the fact that it was still standing
touched a place in her heart she was sure she’d drowned eons ago. Faith took a
shaky breath and opened the door, ready to embrace whatever was going to come
her way. But her mind went blank at the next thing she heard.
“What
the hell do you think you’re doing?! This is private property, you’re
trespassing, and I…”
Dustin
had worked himself up into an angry, seething tirade at the cloud of dust he’d
seen out his office window. He desperately needed something to yell, fight,
and scream at. A smile had actually touched his lips as he’d seen the
distraction crest over the hill.
The
anger had turned to annoyance as they got closer. Who the hell drove a
pocket-sized Audi down the country back roads? None of the normal
troublemakers were that stupid. Had to be some lost tourist looking for the
freeway or some awful fair in town. His smile of neighborly kindness was
begrudgingly in place before he saw where they had stopped. He could overlook
a lot of things, but this week he would not tolerate anyone going anywhere near
his tree.
He
flew from his desk and out the side door, yelling before he had even left the
porch. He hopped over the railing, not bothering to use the stairs, and made
his way over at a full run, as if the hounds of hell were after him instead of
just a few bittersweet memories. But he was brought up short, almost falling
over when he stopped in his tracks and saw who had planted themselves in his
yard.
He
would know that profile anywhere, had it branded into his skin, a tattoo he’d
never gotten around to removing. When she turned, a hand brushing her wavy
hair out of her face, her blue eyes bored a hole right through him, another
laser against his skin, another branding.
“Fuck
me…,” he breathed, unsure if he said the words aloud or just mouthed them.
Faith West, asked and answered. Hadn’t that been the consensus? He’d seen
her, he’d survived, now came the moving on. A day was all he was getting, all
he was allowed before his resolve was tested?
There
was no question – it failed. Everything failed – his ability to speak, to
move, to form coherent thoughts. He was shattered, blown apart with just one
look. Decimated and left to crumble into ruin. Caught ablaze and burnt to
ash. And he hadn’t even heard her speak yet.
Waves
of memories crashed over him, memories his shock kept at bay when last he saw
her across a tapas restaurant. Him serving her drinks poolside. Her reluctant
smile as he led her across the horse trails. That one lonely tear when she
told him who she was. That radiant grin when he told her it didn’t matter.
The laborious travel. The coming home. Her dreamy wedding dress. Her dreary
hospital gown. The sight of her car screaming out of the driveway – the last
goodbye.
Dustin
could almost see the same movie gleaming in her eyes, their whirlwind romance
on fast forward. He could barely think straight – how would she react to seeing
him standing there?
“Why
are you laughing?” Dustin asked.
His
confused expression just made the laughter bubble up more. Faith was gasping
for breath to answer. “Because the universe hates me.” She pulled herself
together with visible effort and turned towards him, hands settling on her
hips. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I
live here. Why wouldn’t I be here?” Skepticism was clear in his eyes before
understanding chased it away. “You saw me at the restaurant.”
“Yeah,
I did.”
“You
just pretended you didn’t,” he said with challenge.
“As
did you,” she countered.
“Well,
obviously we’re both cowards then,” he said, the conviction in his voice
fading.
She
looked away from his gaze, focusing on the house behind him. “Doesn’t look
like much has changed around here.”
“Looks
can be deceiving, can’t they?”
“What’s
all the racket about? What’s going on?” a voice shouted. Dustin turned, Faith
leaning to the left to peer around his broad shoulders.
Peter
stopped in his tracks, brought up short like he’d seen a ghost. His mouth
gaped for a moment before a smile lit up his features, and he stepped to her
side. “Well, I’ll be – if it isn’t East in the flesh.”
Faith
couldn’t help but roll her eyes at that, though a smile wasn’t far behind.
“Still confused about directions I see, Panda.” He pretended to scowl at the
nickname before dropping an arm across her shoulders for a quick squeeze.
“Me?
I’m not the one that took a decade to find my way back,” Peter whispered.
Faith
just barely managed to keep her expression light. She gave him a slight glare
out of the corner of her eye, keeping the horrible havoc those words did to her
heart locked away. Later she’d write a haunting song – now she needed to stay
in control. “Good to see you too, Peter.”
“Isn’t
it though?” he chided. He let her shoulders go but grabbed her hands, holding
them out to give her a once over. “You have not changed a bit.”
“God,
I hope that’s not true.” At his crooked eyebrow she added, “Ten years is a
long time to be standing still.” She cringed inwardly – that had been way too
close to an Andy Peters lyric for her peace of mind.
“So,
what are you doing here?” Peter asked as he steered her towards the house.
“Exactly
what I was about to ask. What
are
you doing here?” Dustin’s tone
couldn’t have been more different than his brother’s.
“Oh,
uh, just passing through,” she murmured, casting a glance back at the lemon
tree where her car sat.
“Just
our luck then,” Peter said.
“Liar,”
Dustin murmured at the exact same time.
“Coward
and liar in the first five minutes. Maturity looks so good on you, Dustin.”
“Ignore
him. I usually do. I have learned how to tune things out exceptionally well,”
Peter said. “It’s the only way you can deal with all the teenagers.”
“Well,
I know you’re not a pop singer, Mr. Tone Deaf, so what’s bringing all the
teenagers to your yard?”
“My
milkshakes, of course.” He winked at her, and she laughed again, this time not
from nervousness. “Actually, I teach over at the high school. Use sarcasm to educate
about bloody rebellions and dead white guys.”
“You
became a teacher? Really?” Faith never would have guessed, but it made
perfect sense. He’d always loved telling people what to do.
“Yes,
really. I may even oversee the debate team.” He shook his head in amusement
as he opened the kitchen door for her to enter. “I swear, only a world-famous
singer would think history teacher is a suspect career choice.”
There
was a retort on Faith’s lips, but it vanished the minute she entered the
house. Memories assaulted her again, ghosts of her past refusing to stay laid
to rest. The furniture and appliances were different, but that inscrutable
sense of community and home still clung to them. And the old oak table, a
wedding present from one lovesick teenager to another, dating all the way back
to the turn of the century, still greeting everyone that entered. She used to
worry that her lemon tree paled in comparison. “Just as I remembered.”
Dustin
snorted behind her, and she jumped, forgetting anyone was there. When she
allowed herself to remember, to feel, she was always alone. The possible intimacy
of the day frightened her. How the hell was she going to survive this?
“Can
I offer you something to drink?” Peter asked, ever the host.
She
hugged her purse to her side – she didn’t want to be hosted. She felt Dustin’s
gaze on her and fought back the memories of this as her home, a place where she
could get her own damn drink. “Lemonade would be lovely, thank you.”
“That’s
something we don’t have,” Dustin growled. He stalked past her and leaned
against the wall.
“But
we do have some nice raspberry iced tea. Would you like some of that?” Peter
asked, his smile tight as he glared at his brother.
“Sure.”
“Sit,
sit,” Peter commanded as he opened the fridge. Faith ran her hands over the
back of the wood chair. Sitting felt dangerous; prey never turned their back
to the predator, and leaving Dustin behind her seemed just as foolhardy.
Peter
rolled his eyes at her still standing as he poured her drink. “If you sit, you
can have one of the world-famous Andrews Apple Tarts. Which, I know, go
absolutely perfectly with raspberry iced tea. Just a thought.”
Faith’s
mouth started salivating at his words; she remembered exactly how good those
tarts were. She took a seat. “So you use sarcasm
and
bribery to get
people to listen to you then, Mr. Andrews?”
Peter
smirked. “I have a few other secrets too.” He placed the dishes in front of
her then took a seat across the table.
Faith
took a bite and smiled. “Your mother has not lost her touch.”
“Mom
isn’t around to make them anymore,” Peter said, his smile a bit wistful.
“I’m
so sorry,” Faith said, meeting Peter’s eyes and then turning to catch Dustin’s.
Dustin
held her gaze for the briefest moment before pushing off the wall and stalking
across the floor. “I have to get back to work.” A door slammed as he disappeared
from the room.
“It’s
okay,” Peter said, reaching a hand out to Faith. “It’s been over three years,
so we learned to make our own tarts.”
“This
was a stupid idea,” she murmured, watching the crust crumble as she broke the
tart into pieces. “Isn’t going well at all.”
“We’ll
just have to change that then.”
Faith
studied Peter’s face. “You were expecting me, weren’t you?”
“Why
would you say that?”
“Come
on, out with it, Panda. You were.”