Evening Stars (24 page)

Averil was surprised. Nina didn’t usually let herself be managed by other people. “You’re tired,” she said, taking in the dark circles under her sister’s eyes.

“My boss said that. I need to start wearing concealer. Or any makeup.” Nina smiled ruefully. “You, on the other hand, are as beautiful as ever.”

Averil shook her head. “I’m not, but thank you.” She stood and crossed to a small box on the counter. “Cindy and I found these yesterday.”

“Where is Cindy?” Nina asked, taking the offered box.

“Taking her mother-in-law to the doctor. It’s the gynecologist. Apparently not a place her son can take her.”

Nina shook her head. “Cindy deserves a medal for dealing with that woman.”

“I think they have come to an understanding. At least I hope so.”

Nina opened the box and stared down at the brooches. “Where did you find these?”

“In the back on a shelf. I thought you’d want them.”

The collection was made up of brightly colored bugs. Butterflies and ladybugs, dragonflies and bumble bees. Their grandmother had worn them with everything.

“After she died, I tried to find them,” Nina admitted, turning a butterfly over in her hand. “I couldn’t. I was afraid Mom had thrown them out, but when I asked she swore she hadn’t.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Grandma said I could have them when she was gone. How silly. They’re worthless, but I wanted them so much.”

Averil smiled at her. “Now you have them.”

She didn’t remember much about the older woman. She’d only been seven when their grandmother had died. But the other woman had been a much larger presence in Nina’s life. A stable force who’d kept Bonnie’s waywardness in check.

One thing Averil remembered clearly was her grandmother’s final days. She’d been hovering in the hall, not sure what was happening, but knowing it wasn’t good. Nina hadn’t been afraid. She’d gone right into the bedroom.

You know I’m dying, don’t you?
their grandmother had asked. Averil hadn’t heard Nina’s reply.

It’s all going to be up to you, now. Take care of your mother and sister.

Again, Nina’s words had been too quiet for Averil to hear. At the time she’d been relieved to know that little about her life would change. Nina was the one who took care of things and that would go on. Now, looking back, she realized what a burden that must have been for an eleven-year-old girl. Bonnie should have been the one to deal with her mother’s passing. But she hadn’t.

“You did a good job raising me,” she said impulsively.

Nina looked at her. “I can’t take credit for that. Not really. We raised ourselves. I say we did a decent job.” Nina stroked Penny as she walked by. “I wish Mom had found Bertie about ten years earlier. That would have helped.”

Averil bent over to rub Penny’s ears. “We would have been the only ‘two mom’ family in our school.”

“It would have been worth it.”

Averil was sure Nina could have used the help. “Remember when Mom decided there was too much inventory and she priced everything at a nickel?”

Nina closed the box with the brooches and groaned. “It was horrible. I couldn’t begin to figure out how much money we lost. People kept leaving more money because they felt bad, but going from a nickel to a quarter on something worth twenty dollars isn’t much help.” She looked around the store. “I’m amazed we made it. There were days I expected Social Services to show up and take us away.”

“Really?” Averil asked, surprised that would have been a worry.

“Sure. Mom would disappear for weeks at a time on her buying trips.”

“She always came back.”

Nina’s hands fluttered over the box. “We were twelve and eight. You’re not supposed to abandon your kids while you drive around the country buying junk.”

Averil realized her perspective was different. Life had gone on pretty much the same whether or not Bonnie had been in town. But it hadn’t been like that for her sister.

“Was it easier or harder when Bonnie was gone?” she asked.

“Both. There was less to worry about and more to do. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter now.”

Averil wasn’t sure she agreed. It might matter a lot. Nina had been the one who’d wanted to leave Blackberry Island. She’d been the one with dreams.

“Am I the reason you didn’t go away?” she asked. “So you could look after me?”

Nina rose. “You can’t think about that,” she said firmly. “I made my choices for a lot of reasons.” She crossed to Averil and hugged her. “You’re worrying about nothing.”

Averil nodded, because she wasn’t sure what to say. That she was sorry her sister had to take care of her? She was for Nina’s sake, but not her own. She’d always known her sister loved her and would be there for her. But at what cost to Nina?

* * *

Nina left the store and drove down to the marina. She parked and started walking along the boardwalk. It was a beautiful sunny day. Not hot, but warm enough that she didn’t need a jacket. She supposed she should have gone home and gotten changed. Her scrubs meant she stood out from the few tourists on the island on a weekday in mid-May. Not that she cared. She needed to think.

Or maybe not, she thought as she strolled. What was there to consider? She’d made her decisions a long time ago. Had lived with the consequences. There was nothing to be done about the past now.

“Nina!”

She turned and saw Dylan walking toward her. She paused and smiled. “Shouldn’t you be at work? Playing hooky already? That can’t be good.”

“I had a furniture delivery. I took off to let the guys in. Then my last two appointments canceled, so here I am. What about you?”

“A rare afternoon off. I came down here to walk by the water.”

“Come on,” he said, motioning to a small restaurant across the street. “Their bar is open. I’ll buy you a drink.”

Five minutes later they were seated on the deck, in a warm, sunny spot. She sipped her glass of chardonnay.

“I could get used to this,” she admitted. “Sitting around in the afternoon with nothing to do.”

He smiled at her over his beer. “You’re lying. You hate being bored.”

“I know, but it’s nice to pretend.”

“I doubt you go on vacation without a plan.”

“Hey, don’t be critical.”

“I’m not. I’m stating the obvious. There’s nothing wrong with a plan.”

She thought about her mother. “Some people thrive on being spontaneous.”

“Let ’em. You enjoy your rules.”

He was telling the truth, but... “That makes me sound boring. And old.”

“You’re neither. You’re solid and trustworthy.”

“Ah, like a faithful dog. A large dog. Like a Lab or a Saint Bernard.”

He leaned toward her, placing both forearms on the table. “You’re determined to make me the bad guy in this.”

“No, I’m not. Sorry. I’m in a mood. I was supposed to drive to Seattle tomorrow with the painting. I’ve found a bank where we can keep it while Mom and Bertie figure out the next step.”

“And?”

“And my mother is having a spiritual moment. She feels we should keep the painting around until she understands what she’s supposed to do with it.”

Dylan’s green eyes flashed with surprise. “The painting is speaking to her?”

“Apparently.”

“They have medication for that. Have her come in and I’ll write a prescription.”

“Very funny.” She sipped her wine.

“I’m a funny guy.” His humor faded. “You’re worried.”

“I have no idea what she’s going to do, but the odds of it being sensible seem small. I’m terrified she’s going to tell someone she shouldn’t.”

He touched her arm. “You know I’m not going to say anything.”

“I do. Thanks. To be honest I never thought to call and tell you to keep quiet. I knew you would.” Which was unexpected, she thought. When things were complicated, she’d always been able to trust Dylan. Except with her heart.

“Thanks. Do you have any idea which direction her spiritual connection is going to take?”

“No. She’s mentioned everything from opening a museum to display the painting to burning it so it would return to the artist.”

He grimaced. “I hope she decides against burning it.”

“Me, too. I’m pretty sure Bertie will keep her at least close to normal.” She wondered if banging her head against the table would make her feel better. “I was really hoping for a calm summer.”

“It could happen.”

She smiled. “Unlikely. Okay, let’s talk about something else. How are you enjoying working with your dad? Is it still boring?”

“Hey, I never said it was boring.”

“You implied it was less than satisfying.” She tilted her head as she studied him. “Sorry you came back?”

“It’s more difficult to adjust than I thought it would be. Everyone deserves to have access to health care. Both here and there.”

She knew him well enough to be able to complete the thought. “But there you make a more tangible difference. Here they can simply drive to the mainland and see another doctor.”

“Thanks for making me feel special.”

“Sorry. You know what I mean.”

“I do.” His gaze settled on her face.

There was something about the way he looked at her. It reminded her of his kiss—the one she’d nearly forgotten about because of the painting. Something else her mother had to answer for, she thought humorously. Not that she planned to go around kissing Dylan. It had been nice and all, but they were friends.

“Is leaving an option?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I promised my dad.”

“He’d want you to be happy.”

“I’m pretty sure he thinks I can be happy here.”

“Maybe if you were to settle down,” she said. “Get married and all that.”

“Proposing?” His voice was teasing.

“That would freak out your parents. They worked so hard to break us up.”

“They were wrong.”

She studied him for a second. When he didn’t speak, didn’t add the obvious “And so was I,” she drew in a breath.

“You really do think it’s my fault we broke up.”

“No,” he said easily. “It was both of us. You had your family. I knew that. I kept thinking that you’d walk away from them, but how could you? You were the one holding it all together. I was angry because I thought you were changing plans without discussing it with me. You were angry because I, from your perspective, wouldn’t understand.”

When he put it like that... “We were doomed?”

“Maybe.”

“I thought we’d get married,” she admitted. “I thought we were going to be together always.”

“Me, too.”

So, what did their joint admission mean, she wondered. Maybe that they could stay friends for a long time.

She had to admit he was right. She
had
changed the rules in their relationship.

She touched his hand. “It was literally a decade ago. What do you say we release the topic into the cosmos? Maybe it will meet up with Emilion Stoicasescu and tell him we have his painting.”

He turned his wrist so their fingers were laced together. “I wish you’d managed to get away.”

She was so caught in the unexpected feel of his skin on hers that she nearly missed his words.

“From the island?”

He nodded. “Not that I don’t like hanging out with you, but...”

There could have been so much more to her life. Heat burned on her cheeks. She started to pull away, but he held on to her hand.

“It was too hard to leave,” she told him, avoiding his gaze.

“Not good enough.”

“I had responsibilities. My mom, Averil.”

“Averil moved to California when she was eighteen, and Bonnie met Bertie.”

She tugged free of his grip and dropped her hands to her lap. “I was scared,” she admitted. “I knew what it was like to be here. I kept telling myself that once everything got settled I could go. I meant it, but then time passed and suddenly it was yesterday.”

“You could go now,” he told her. “Especially if your mom sells the painting.”

She didn’t have anywhere to go, she thought. No dreams left. Medical school, but that was from a long time ago. Was it possible now?

“Have you changed your mind?” he asked. “About being a doctor?”

“I’ve picked what I want to do.”

“I don’t believe that,” he told her. “You picked what was expedient. Are you happy?”

His tone was gentle enough that she didn’t feel threatened, and she appreciated the questions.

“I guess I’ve been stuck for so long I forgot to keep moving forward. This is easy.”

“Like working for my dad,” he said. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. Tell you what—you jump and I’ll jump.”

“We’re not in this together,” she reminded him. “Plus, I’ve already been on the outs with your family. I don’t want to go through that again.”

“You made up. Hell, you worked for my dad for years.”

“Yes, and sometimes it was awkward.”

He studied her for a second. “So, you’re staying?”

She nodded.

“Me, too.”

Information that shouldn’t have mattered, she told herself. Yet oddly, it made her feel better. As if she wasn’t going to face everything happening right now on her own.

Chapter Seventeen

AVERIL SAT ON her bed as she scanned through the comments from her online critique group. They were universal, she thought, her stomach tightening. No one liked her opening. Two people thought her main character was selfish, the rest thought she was uninteresting.

“I would never read past the first page,” someone had written. “Does this story ever get going? You haven’t posted anything in weeks and this is what you give us?”

The harsh criticism surprised her. She hadn’t thought her story was the best thing ever written, but it had kept her up late; she’d been excited to be putting words to paper, so to speak.

She scrolled to another set of comments.

“What happened to the teenager who was gang raped?” another person posted. “Now that was a story. I really liked the part where she was blamed when they were persecuted by the town.”

She stared at the screen, frowning. “I never wrote that,” she murmured. Why would anyone? It sounded awful. Talk about depressing.

She picked up her cell and pushed the button to dial Kevin.