Love Blooms on Main Street (27 page)

But by the time she arrived at the small Colonial with the pretty perennial garden tucked behind a picket fence, she was feeling deeply sorry for herself. The bastard had dumped her. Kissed her, messed with her head, and now, the pièce de résistance, he had ended things.

Fool, fool, fool, fool. He'd played her harder than any guy had before.

Worse, because she knew Brett. Knew the quiet, shy, studious boy he was. Knew the tender side of the man he now was. Worse because she thought she knew him, saw through to that sweetness. Worse because she'd let him in. And worse because she'd cared.

And she'd dared to think he'd cared, too. But judging from today, that wasn't possible.

He'd taken something about her, something she never revealed to anyone, and he'd used it against her. And that was unforgiveable.

With a sigh, Ivy shifted the arrangement in her arms, took the cobblestone path to the front door, and knocked. There was a shuffling of feet and finally a turning of the locks. Ivy was expecting to see a woman dressed for a celebratory dinner in town or maybe, given the occasion, at the country club over in Forest Ridge. Instead, she was surprised to see a pale face and eyes red from crying.

Ivy frowned and glanced at the brass numbers nailed to the door frame, wondering for a moment if she had the wrong address. “I'm sorry, there might be some confusion. Are you Linda—”

“Yes, that's me.” The woman glanced at the flowers, confusion knitting her brow.

“Well, then, these are for you,” Ivy managed to smile and handed the vase over. “Happy anniversary.”

Normally the response was a thank you, a gasp, and a smile. But the woman just blinked back tears that still started to fall as she carefully searched for the card. “I don't know who these are from…”

Ivy had written it herself, so she already knew what it said. Still, it wasn't her place to say. The card, she'd found over the years, could mean just as much as the flowers themselves. “Here,” she said, plucking it from its holder and handing it to her.

“To my darling Linda,” the woman whispered. “The day I met you, my life was forever changed. Every day after, it was made more complete. We've had our beginning, and our middle, but some things don't have an end. I love you.”

Ivy wondered if she should stay or leave. It was unclear if Linda was speaking to her or to herself.

“Very sweet,” she said tightly. She backed up, but the woman was crying harder now, and so she hesitated.

“He always planned ahead, my Dennis. Always thought of me. Always sent me flowers, every year.” The woman's hands trembled as she inspected the flowers. When she glanced at Ivy, her eyes were bright, but there was a shine in them where the sadness had been just a few minutes ago. “Dennis died three months ago,” she explained, and this time, Ivy was the one to gasp. “I thought this would be the first year I wouldn't receive them. Now I know it's my last, but somehow, that's okay now.”

She shook her head, not knowing what to say. She hadn't even checked the original order date, just the delivery. Now she seemed to recall the flowers she'd made in honor of a man… a war veteran. A father of four. She glanced into the hallway. The house was pretty, the walls lined with photos showcasing a happy life and one that had reached its end. The curtains were drawn, just a bit of summer light shining through, no sound coming from a television, a radio, or anyone.

She steadied herself on the rail and set a hand on the woman's wrist. “I'm so sorry.”

The woman looked up at her, tears still shining in her eyes but a smile where her frown had once been. “Don't be. I thought today was going to be one of the loneliest I'd had in a while,” Linda continued. “But thanks to you, I'm not alone. A little piece of Dennis came back to me. These are the last words he'll ever say to me. I thought I'd already heard all he had to say.” She reached out and squeezed Ivy's hand. “These flowers mean more to me than you'll ever know. Thank you, young lady. Thank you.”

Ivy swallowed the lump that had wedged in her throat, unable to do anything other than mumble a response.

She sat in her car for a long time, staring at the house from the edge of the road, imagining the woman inside, thinking of how quickly and easily her day had been turned around. How lucky she was to have been able to share in that moment, wondering, with bittersweet hope, if she'd be lucky enough to have what that woman had once had, and still, in some way, did.

And then she thought of Brett… and just how much he was missing.

B
y the next day, Brett had expected to wake up feeling energized, refreshed, and as close to normal as he could anymore. He was used to setbacks. Used to dealing with the tough days and then moving on. Except moving on was becoming more of a struggle lately, and today it was proving impossible.

The look in Ivy's eyes still felt like a punch to the gut, and every time he managed to close his eyes to her image, her words echoed in his ears. In time they would fade, just like most things did, but for now, they were sharp and, worse, they were true.

He sighed and opened the back door to his mother's house. She was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast, and she smiled in surprise when she saw him.

“How'd you know it was my morning off?” She grinned and pulled another mug from the cabinet.

“Lucky guess,” Brett managed. Only there was nothing lucky about it. One way or another, he was going to have to tell his mother his plans today, before she heard it from someone else. His stomach burned.

“You look tired,” she said as she studied his face. She frowned and tsked under her breath. “Working too hard!”

“I had a night shift,” Brett explained. He knew some doctors could crash after that, but he never could, and certainly not today. He was agitated, too wound up, and the knowledge he was harboring was almost worse than the thought of letting it out.

He'd say it. It would be over. He'd deal with the fallout.

This was just reality. No different than delivering a bad diagnosis.

Only this time the person he was addressing wasn't a stranger. It was his mother. And she was the last person in the world he ever wanted to see hurt. Again.

“I was just going to make some eggs. Fried or scrambled?”

He couldn't think about food right now, but he said, “Scrambled.” Taking the mug from her hand, he poured himself a coffee from the pot she'd already brewed. Even now, though she lived alone, she always made a full pot and kept it on low heat until she had to go. He supposed people in town stopped by, and she wanted to be ready, but a twinge of guilt made him wonder if it was something else, something subconscious. If deep down she wasn't lonely in this big old house, if she was still waiting, just in case Brett came back or his father.

He waited until their eggs were ready and they were seated at the table to tell her about the job. She'd be proud of him, he knew, but there would be no denying the hurt she would be selflessly hiding. And that was almost the worst of it.

“Mom, there's something I have to tell you,” he began.

“There's something I've wanted to tell you, too,” she said. “Do you mind if I go first? I feel bad that I haven't had the chance before this—you've been so busy at the hospital.”

His mouth felt dry. She certainly wasn't making this any easier on him.

“It occurred to me that you moved back to town because of me.”

Brett opened his mouth, but she held up a hand. “Please. I need to say this. Now, I told you about my concerns in the spring because you're a doctor but also because you're my son. I've seen the way you hover around since you've been back, and I want to make it clear once and for all that you don't need to worry. I'm healthy, for now at least, and I have a team of excellent doctors if things take a turn. I'm not your patient, Brett. Don't make me one.”

“Mom.” He stared at her. “I'm a doctor. How can I not have an extra layer of worry?”

“Just answer me this: Was the reason you came back to town because of me?”

Her eyes were clear and determined, and Brett knew there was no use glossing over the truth to spare her feelings. “Yes and no.” He sighed. There was a time in his life when he used to tell her everything. Every cut and scrape, every disappointment about anything less than a near-perfect grade. The good and the bad, it was all open, all shared. When did he start pulling back from her? When did he shut her out?

When she got sick. When he had to stop being the kid and start being a man. Start putting her needs first. Stop giving her another thing to worry about.

If he told her the truth… it would break her heart. She'd blame herself. They had that in common, he supposed.

“I left Baltimore because I was asked to take a leave of absence,” he said carefully, and there was an audible gasp across the table. He pressed his hands flat on the table and stared at his eggs, which had now gone cold. “I lost a patient. It happens. It went to review. I wasn't held accountable.”

Sharon shook her head and closed her eyes for a moment before blinking up at him. “I'm confused. If you weren't held responsible, why did they ask you to leave?”

“Because I was distracted. Upset. I couldn't get past what I'd done. How I could have avoided it.”

“Oh, honey. You always were too hard on yourself. You're a wonderful doctor, Brett.”

“I'm not so sure about that anymore,” he said.

She frowned. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“I mean that maybe, if I'd taken the time to invest in the patient, things might have gone differently.”

Her smile was wan. “Don't ER doctors usually move from one patient to the next as quickly as possible?”

“Yes, but some balance things better than I think I have. Some… care.”

“You care, Brett.” She looked at him like he was crazy.

He shook his head, struggling to meet her eye. “I've tried not to. If you let yourself care…” He pulled in a long breath. “The job becomes harder.”

Sharon nodded slowly. “I think I understand.”

“I've been offered another job, Mom.” There it was out. “In Washington, DC. It's one of the top hospitals on the East Coast. It's a trauma center. It's a good job. The kind where I can be useful.”

“Are you going to take it?”

He struggled to confirm it but forced himself to nod. “I'd be doing something important.”

“What you're doing now is important.”

She sounded like Ivy. He didn't need the reminder. “Yes, but there my skills would be put to use. Those patients need me.”

Sharon lowered her eyes. “I see. Well, I won't try to stop you. Only you know what's best. But do one thing for me, Brett. Make sure you're taking the job for the right reasons.”

“What would the right reason be?” he asked, hoping she would tell him, because he wasn't sure anymore. “You sacrificed so much, Mom. And Mark, too. I went off to college, then med school. Some of the best schools in the country. I wanted to make you proud.”

“I am proud!” she insisted.

“Then why do I feel like all I ever did was let you down?”

Her eyes softened. “Oh, honey. Did I ever make you feel that way?”

“No, but I still felt it. Felt like I should have been here. Shouldn't have gone to Yale.” She'd already had one man bail on her in life. And he'd gone and made it two.

“You wanted to be a doctor,” his mother said, and Brett nodded. He had. He wouldn't take that back. “And you had this amazing opportunity. If you hadn't taken it, it would have been me feeling like I'd let you down. Do you see that?”

Brett considered this for a moment. “I do. I just wish circumstances had been different.”

“All my life, I tried to protect you boys. I put you first. You'll understand one day when you have a child of your own.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him, then turned more serious again. “Remember when you were little, how I offered to come with you to those scout meetings?”

He frowned. “And I didn't want you there. Because the other kids had a dad with them, and I didn't.” He remembered the hurt that had flashed through her eyes. At the time, he'd felt bad, assuming she was stung by his refusal. But now…

“It broke my heart to see you miss out. What I would have done to give you that opportunity.”

“Aw, Mom. You did the best you could.”

“And you did, too,” she said, smiling through tears. “We all make choices in life. And now you have another one. Don't feel bad about leaving me when you did. You went on to make your mark on the world. And now it's up to you how to make the next one.”

Brett picked up his mug and took a sip, tasting nothing. She hadn't tried to stop him, just as he knew she wouldn't, but she hadn't encouraged him, either. She'd challenged him instead.

It had been a few weeks since Ivy had last been to the gym, and she was feeling the burn in the Wednesday night yoga class, unlike Kara, who breezed through it without so much as breaking a sweat.

“If you come every week, it gets easier,” she said as the girls rolled their mats.

“It's not always easy to break away from the store,” Ivy said, not to mention other distractions that had kept her mind on things other than her health these past few weeks.

“I understand. I'll probably skip next Wednesday's class to get ready for the fundraiser.”

At the mention of the event, Ivy's stomach dropped, and she pressed a hand to it to ease the queasiness. Given the turn of events, she wanted nothing more than to just drop out or ask Jane to go in her place, only Jane would question that, and besides, Jane was Henry's guest—he was covering the event for the paper. A front-page photo, no doubt featuring one of her bouquets somewhere in the background, was fantastic publicity, as was the exposure to new clients. But the thought of seeing Brett again, even for that one night, knowing it was probably the last until he deigned to come back for a holiday down the road, was hard to take.

But she would muster the courage. Because that's what she did. What she'd always done, really.

And besides, if she didn't go, if she didn't fulfill her part in the event, then she never stood a chance of paying that loan back to Henry, at least not anytime soon.

“Did you decide on the flavors?” Ivy asked.

Kara nodded. “I think I'll do three different flavors, so people can choose. I'm meeting the Madisons at the bookstore after this. Want to come?”

She grinned. “I'd love to.” She'd been hunkered down in her tiny apartment for days, but it felt good to be out again, and out with friends. She was right where she'd been before Brett came back to town. Well, almost. A secret part of her had considered that she might bump into him tonight. She'd been highly selective with her outfit, just in case. She'd even taken the front doors, done a casual, albeit heart-pounding, lap around the cardio room, sure to linger at the water fountain, just in case he happened to stroll by, notice how good she looked, how badly he had messed up.

She supposed she'd have her chance at the fundraiser, but that was different. It was an event she'd been looking forward to, and now it was overshadowed. Worse was that everyone would be there, and she'd be forced to pretend nothing had ever happened between them—good or bad—just like when he'd first come back.

The Madisons were already gathered around a center table in the bookstore's café when Ivy and Kara arrived a few minutes later, still wearing yoga pants and tank tops. It was a warm night, sticky and muggy, and lightning bugs dotted the dark sky. Ivy settled onto a chair between Grace and Jane, trying to stay in the moment and trying not to think that a week ago she'd been buzzing with excitement for a future, and now it all felt more uncertain than ever.

The girls chatted about Jane's wedding, Anna's inability to set a wedding date, and Sophie's part in a camp play. Across the table, Ivy could tell Kara was waiting with bated breath for an opportunity to mention the cookies, and when the topic of the fundraiser came up and what everyone would be wearing, Ivy gave her a little grin of encouragement across the table.

“I'm actually contributing something, too,” Kara began, her eyes darting to Anna and away again. “I didn't know how to tell you this, Anna, but do you remember those cookies I made the day the pastry chef was out?” When Anna frowned in confusion, Kara glanced at Ivy, who nodded. “Well, Grace was telling me how much everyone loved them. I… I've been working really hard on perfecting the recipe, and, well, Brett decided to offer them as a party favor.”

“I didn't know that part, Kara!” Grace exclaimed. “Those are seriously the best cookies I've ever had. Other than yours, Anna,” she added quickly, but the casual wink she threw her sister proved there were no hard feelings. “That's great! Isn't it?”

“Of course!” Anna looked at Kara in wonder. “I had no idea. Why didn't you tell me?”

“Well, I know you're catering the event. I guess I was worried you would be… mad.”

“Mad?” Anna repeated. “I'm thrilled for you, Kara! I always knew you had a gift when it came to baking.”

Kara looked like she could almost cry with relief. “Really?”

“Really. I just didn't know if that's what you were interested in.”

“Oh, it is!” Kara nodded. “I'm actually thinking that if people like the cookies, I may… do something with them. Maybe.”

“You should! Briar Creek could use a bakery now that I've opened the restaurant,” Anna said.

“I've already come up with the name,” Kara admitted. “Sugar and Spice. What do you all think?”

“I love it!” Grace cried, and everyone began talking at once, in full agreement.

Ivy watched the scene unfold with unease. Brett's comment had stuck with her, longer than she'd hoped. He was right—she did keep people at arm's length; she didn't trust them the way she should. Now, looking around at her oldest and closest friends and seeing how supportive they were of Kara's decision, she felt a wave of shame for holding in a part of herself, when all they'd ever done was accept her. They hadn't cared that her mom was a drunk and had made a spectacle of herself at every town function. They didn't care that she chose not to talk about that time or that she wanted to forget it. They hadn't even cared when she'd almost ruined her best friend's bridal shower—all they'd cared about was that she was okay.