Page 96 of Love is an Open Book
After a few more protests, they clamber down, taking the plates of baked beans and hot dogs from Scott, who calls after them, “Don’t drop them. Two hands!” To me, he says, “Might want to wait a couple hours to make good on that swing promise. Last night they came out after dessert and Brett threw up from the spinning.”
I check the ground reflexively and Scott chuckles. “Birds probably got to it.”
“Parenthood has changed you, man.” This is a guy who used to make me do all the worst chores, and now he’s talking about puke like it’s nothing.
“In more ways than one,” he says. “I think spending the summer here with the boys just gets me nostalgic. I shouldn’t have told you to take this on, but it hit me that with Dad retiring, they wouldn’t be spending lazy days swimming at the lake or eating ice cream on the porch.”
“I’ve thought of all those things, too.” And it hasn’t helped my decision one bit.
“But I owe you an apology,” he says, catching my attention. “Mia, too. I was so sure she was your reason for staying. And then I caught you two, holding hands, when all along you said there was nothing going on. But I talked to Amber, and she asked why I thought I had the right to judge your reasons.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, thin arms tanned under the freckles.
“She told me that whether it was Mia, or yourself, you want to stay. That’s all I need to know,” he says. “And she was right. I thought you should be the one to quit your job, leave your friends behind, sell your house... All to keep this place in the family just because you happen to like trees more than I do.” Helets out a laugh that startles the group near us, and I watch him, speechless. “Seriously, how messed up is that?”
“Pretty messed up,” I agree, smirking, and he narrows his eyes. There’s the cranky brother I know and love. “Besides, I like more than trees. Don’t get me started on shrubs, perennials—”
“Yeah, yeah. You got Dad’s green thumb, we all know.”
Realization dawns. “You’re jealous.”
“How could I not be? You two were always so close. But Dad and I’ve talked a lot recently. You should...” He trails off. “Sorry, no more advice.”
“Talk to him? I’m going to.” Looking out past the house, I take in the rows of saplings and spruce trees. “But I get what you were saying earlier, about not wanting to say goodbye to this place for good,” I admit. “That’s part of why I’ve put off coming out here. There’s so much good here, and I knew if I came back, I’d do the same as you. Start thinking of our wheelbarrow races and riding in the tractor instead of invoices and sales calls.”
“Not the sales calls.” Scott hangs his head in disgust. “Remember how Dad used to make us wear ties even though we were on the phone. Said, ‘Dress professional...’”
“‘Act professional,’” I finish, repeating the phrase Dad drilled into us during our high school years. “From a man who showed up to work every day in a flannel shirt.”
“Yeah, but he wanted us to learn every part of the business.”
“Worked out well for me. I have a hand in most things at Hill and Dale.” I bump him with my shoulder. “Not like you, planning to work remotely in your pajamas once both kids start school.”
“Hey, I’ll dress halfway professionally.” He flips a nonexistent collar. “Like a mullet, business up top, party on the bottom.”
“What are we talking about, boys?” Amber walks up, holding a beer. Her straight black hair is pulled into a low ponytail, and she looks relaxed in jean shorts and a tank top.
“How lucky we are to have a dad who believed in being well rounded,” I say, sharing a knowing look with my brother. “Speaking of, I better find him before he finds out how long I’ve been here without saying hello. Mom, too. Can we catch up later, Amber?”
“Absolutely. I think you owe me some news,” she says, a twinkle in her dark eyes that has my gut twisting. She’s talking about me and Mia, except there is no Mia and me. Not anymore.
But I promise to find her after I make the rounds, then head off in search of Dad. This would be a lot easier with Mia by my side.
Dad is busy flipping burgers and Mom isn’t outside anymore, so I head in through the back door. The windows are open, a gentle breeze stirring the curtains. Passing through the hall, I find her filling a vase at the sink.
“Gavin,” she says, giving me a one-armed squeeze, her rose perfume familiar and comforting. “I’m glad you came. Scott says you haven’t been out much this summer. Makes me feel a little better that you haven’t paid me a visit.”
“There’s been a lot going on.” The same reason I’d given my dad for not visiting, but this time it feels true because I did want to see her. But I’ve avoided coming here because I didn’t want to get into the truth of why I moved away. Isn’t that what I did with Mia, too? Buried my feelings instead of facing the reality that I’m in love with someone who might not ever love me back?
“Does that have anything to do with why Mia’s not here?” She sets the vase on the counter next to a bunch of hollyhocks laid out on a dish towel.
“I don’t always bring her.”
“Don’t you?” Mom’s ash-gray hair falls along her cheek, concealing her face, but I’d bet she’s wearing the carefully innocent look she perfected during my childhood to get me to confessto my misdeeds. “Could you hand me those shears so I can get these in water? Or better yet, you do it while I make us coffee.”
I pick up the pruning shears and set to snipping the stems. “Scott told you.”
“He did, but I told him we’d better wait and hear it from you.” She dumps out the morning’s leftover coffee with a grumble. Dad doesn’t mind stale coffee, but I’m with Mom on that one.
The screen door bangs open and Dad steps inside with a foil-wrapped tray, saving me from answering. “Thought I’d find you two in here,” he says. I take the tray from him, and he gives me a hug, tall and lean in the flannel he wears year-round, sleeves rolled in concession to the summer heat. “Missed you, Gavin.”
