Chapter Five
Bram
M y forehead throbs as I spend the day overseeing the remodeling of the housing center. It’s only my second time heading up a project, and I’m determined to stay focused on what needs to be done.
But my mind has other ideas and keeps drifting to Lois and her new husband. Then to Quinn who had most definitely been crying in the car when I’d spied her earlier. I hadn’t wanted to let on that I could tell she’d been crying based on her red and puffy eyes. Women tend to be sensitive about those things.
She did seem to cheer up some when she was interacting with the residents of the center. I smile to myself thinking about all Quinn does for those who live here. Based on the way she was glowing when talking with the young people who stopped by her office, it's obviously her calling.
Unfortunately, thinking about Quinn inevitably leads me back to Lois.
I’ve spent more time the last two weeks praying than I have in years. Or at least it seems that way. I am doing my absolute best to honor God and Lois by not thinking of her as anything more than a sister in Christ and a friend. But I’m still in the grieving phase. Actually, maybe I’m still in the denial phase.
It’s been so bad that I’ve even missed all our family get-togethers and church the past two weeks because I can’t bear seeing her and Chad. It’s too soon, and I’m afraid my face would give me away. Instead, I’ve spent those days alone at home, begging God to put me out of my misery.
Sleep has been fitful and my five o’clock shadow is starting to turn into a full-on hipster beard. I still haven’t processed the fact that Lois is married to someone other than me, and each time I’m reminded, it’s like another knife to my gut.
It’s typically the woman who dreams of her wedding day for years, planning every minute detail, but I’d done the same thing since I was seventeen years old. It didn’t matter if I imagined a small, intimate wedding on the beach behind my parents’ house or if it was a large, elegant wedding at church—every scenario had ended with Lois walking down the aisle to me.
Letting go of a decade of dreams feels like an impossible feat.
When Dad called me on Monday asking if I could take over the Peach Beach Housing Center project because he’d had a bigger project dropped on him, I jumped at the chance. This project meant a lot of physical work and paperwork to keep my mind occupied—or if nothing else to wear myself out to the point of exhaustion where I’d forget everything except for my need to eat and sleep.
Exiting the building, I glance toward the parking lot. Quinn’s car is already gone. I sigh. I’d wanted to catch her before she left to double-check that everything was okay, but she must have slipped out while I was in the middle of ripping up the old flooring in the bathroom.
She may not appreciate me snooping in her business, but my protective instincts could never leave someone I care about hurting alone. I still can’t get the look in her eyes out of my head. Whatever is going on with her, I want her to know she can talk to me.
I didn’t see you before you left. Are you okay?
Quinn
Yes
How's your face?
Handsome as ever. winking emoji
Quinn
facepalm emoji Why do I even try?
LOL I'm fine. Don't worry, Q.
Sliding the phone back into my pocket, I feel the cool ocean breeze waft over me. The saltiness of the air makes me want to grab my surfboard and head out and lose myself on the waves. I groan when I remember the mound of paperwork waiting for me at home. And that’s the downside of overseeing the crew. The work never seems to end, and I can’t just hit the waves whenever I want.
Dad has been pressuring me to step into a bigger role in the company he built from the ground up. I’m not sure how I feel about it. Sure, I don’t mind overseeing a few small jobs like here at the center. It’s rewarding work, and I have a good crew. But taking a foreman role in Baxter Brothers Construction means more paperwork and less getting my hands dirty.
I know Dad expects it of my brothers and me. It’s why I went to college for construction management. Titus’s degree is in architecture and design, and Cyrus has a business degree—which he completed after getting kicked off the Denver Dragons hockey team. He and Titus make a killer team with the company.
It’s good to see Cyrus with a straight head on his shoulders. He’s been making up for his mistakes and is proving to be a hard worker now that he’s stopped drinking and partying. Most of the time, anyway.
Our dad, David Baxter, started the company right out of high school with his brother, Matthew. Eventually, Uncle Matthew established the main headquarters in Raleigh while Dad stayed with the Peach Beach branch.
We’ve kept a solid reputation, and although we sometimes travel to bordering towns for bigger projects, the majority of our work is done in town. Peach Beachers are nothing if not loyal to local businesses.
I glance at my watch and groan when I realize it’s after six. I’m exhausted, and all I want to do is grab a big, juicy burger and fries on the way home and collapse on the couch. Not sift through a mountain of paperwork.
My phone vibrates in my pocket as I head to my truck.
Cy
Dude, where are you? Mom’s not letting any of us eat because you promised to be here.
I groan again. I’d forgotten Mom invited me over for supper tonight. It wouldn’t normally be a big deal for me to cancel except I’ve already skipped all of Mom’s invites for the past two weeks. We all gather at our childhood home two or three times a week for one of Mom’s home-cooked meals, so if I don’t show up tonight, she’ll be knocking on my door, demanding to know what’s wrong. Truthfully, it’s a wonder she hasn’t already.
My stomach rumbles at the thought of Mom’s cooking.
Ty
Ignore him, he’s just cranky because the Dragons lost a game and he thinks he could have done better than the new guy.
I cringe. Leave it to Titus to bring up Cyrus’s failed hockey career.
Low blow, Titus. Real low.
Ty
Just stating the facts. I’m not the one who got kicked off the team.
Cy
At least I got out and experienced the world.
Ty
Sure. If that’s what you want to call it.
Cy
Mom just smacked us over the head with a spatula for being on our phones at the table. Are you coming or not, Bram?
Good for her. On my way.
Cy
About time. I’ve forgotten what you look like. Will I even recognize you?
Ignoring him, I rub a hand over my face and the growing beard that’s beginning to itch. I suck in a quick breath. Hopefully, I’ll get away this evening without answering any questions about why I haven’t been over in a week.
Maybe if I steer the conversation, take control, and keep it flowing around topics other than myself, I can swing it.
Maybe.
My plan to keep the conversation flowing and ultimately off of my absence last week lasted a surprising forty-five minutes. Much longer than I guessed it would have. Cyrus and Titus kept sending me concerned glances before looking at one another with that twin look that said they were having a complete conversation amongst themselves. I hate when they do that.
They know. They have to know that Lois is married. They were most likely at church, and I’m sure Ada called Mom as soon as she could. But no one has said a word. Which on one hand I’m grateful for, but on the other, it’s putting me on edge. My parents have no idea about my long-held feelings for Lois. But Titus and Cyrus do.
Titus and Dad help Mom clean up while Cyrus and I head into the family room. Cryus clasps a hand on my shoulder. Squeezing extra hard, he says, “Man, if you’d been a minute later, I would have snuck in there and stolen whatever I could get my hands on.”
Chuckling, I try to release the tension in my shoulders. I need to kiss Mom, say my goodbyes, and get out of this place before an interrogation begins. Cyrus may seem innocent now, but he’s like King Arthur, our cousin Jett’s pet alligator—toothless, but still deadly. That’s Cyrus. Deadly. Not toothless. Once Cyrus clamps down on something, he does not let it go. And I had already seen his and Titus’s silent conversation at the dinner table.
“I’m not joking. Mom didn’t cook at all the last two weeks because you canceled.” Cyrus crosses his thick arms and narrows his eyes. “Where have you been anyway?”
And there it is.
“Just felt like hanging solo.”
Arching an eyebrow, Cryus shakes his head. “Nah. I don’t believe it. You don’t miss Mom’s cooking because you want time to yourself.” He pauses for a moment. “It’s because of Lo—”
I cut him off. “Believe what you want. It’s true.” At least partially true. I have wanted time to myself. Time to nurse my wounded heart. I haven’t felt like being around anyone. Especially my brothers.
Cyrus opens his mouth to say something, but everyone else takes that moment to join us. Thank you, Jesus.
I need to get out of here, but I need an exit strategy. If I don’t go about it the right way, Mom will start scolding Dad for overworking me.
Looking between us, Mom smiles softly. “Well, I’m glad you boys finally made it around to see your mama.”
“Not fair, Mom. We”—Cyrus motions between himself and Titus—“have been ready to come. It’s your oldest who wouldn’t show his face.”
I glare at Cyrus and grit my teeth. “Like I said. I just needed some downtime.”
Mom doesn’t seem to notice. She sets down her cup of tea and huffs. “Well, Bram, that’s fine if you didn’t want a home-cooked meal, but I’m disappointed you haven’t been at church. I got to meet Lois’s charming husband.” Turning piercing gray eyes in my direction, she tilts her head. “And why didn’t you say anything about Lois getting married? She told me you and Chad had already met.”
The twins’ heads snap toward me, identical sets of eyes locking on me.
Hanging my head, I try to ignore the weight of their stares.
A throat clearing makes me look up. Mom’s gaze bores into me, making me squirm like when I was a child and I lied or got caught cheating on a test. “Well, Bram?”
Tension builds in my neck, and I turn slowly, shifting in the chair. “I guess I didn’t think about it,” I mumble. Wow. That’s all I can come up with?
Mom scoffs. “You didn’t think that I would want to know that the girl who is like a daughter to me eloped?”
I’m glad for the beard now covering most of my face because I can feel heat climbing up my neck. “I’m sorry, Mom. I honestly thought Ada would tell you.” Again, it’s the truth. She and Ada talk all the time. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that Mom wouldn’t know. After Lois broke my heart, it’s been hard to focus on anything. I’ve only been going through the motions. Eat, work, try to sleep, stare at the ceiling for hours, fight the tears, restless sleep, wake up to do it all again.
Not that I am about to admit this to anyone here. Least of all my brothers. Especially not to how close I’ve come to curling up in a ball and letting the tears flow. Multiple times.
“Ada did tell me. I just thought it would be something you mentioned too.” Mom sighs. “I guess I forgive you,” she teases and picks her teacup back up. “I offered to help Ada throw a household shower for them, but she isn’t sure that they’ll stay here. We’re going to at least plan a reception so everyone can get to meet Chad. Wasn’t he so charming? And that British accent of his?” Mom places a hand over her heart, her eyes taking on a dreamy sheen. My brothers and I roll our eyes. Mom is a hopeless romantic.
Why do women love British accents anyway? They only make guys appear like pompous jerks with every word that comes out of their mouths. Yes, I am basing this opinion solely on my brief encounters with Lord Chadwick. It doesn’t mean I’m wrong.
“Hmph,” Dad speaks for the first time. “Haven’t seen you look at me like that in ages.” He pinches her plump side, and she swats his arm.
“Well, maybe if you took me to Paris and romanced me for four months, I would.”
Dad waggles his eyebrows and starts to say something before my brothers and I cut him off.
“No!”
“Nope!”
“Stop!”
“La-la-la-la,” Cyrus sings loudly, with his fingers stuck in his ears, trying to block out whatever Dad is about to say.
Mom giggles, her cheeks turning bright red, and Dad wears a satisfied grin. I can’t help smiling. I’m one of the lucky ones. Not only are both of my parents still alive, but they adore each other. I remember growing up and being grossed out when I caught them kissing or whispering things to each other. As an adult—although I still don’t want to hear what they say and definitely don’t want to see anything more than a peck on the lips—I appreciate their love for one another, and I’ve always prayed I would find the same kind of love.
I assumed I had found it with Lois.
The thought wipes the smile from my face, sobering me up as everyone talks about Lois and Chad’s reception. I tune them out, turning to Cyrus and cautiously asking him about the latest hockey news.
It’s still a sore subject for him, but his love of the game has never diminished. It took him months after his former team won the championship for him to watch another game. I know he regrets his actions that caused him to miss out on winning the cup. And he still hasn’t put a pair of skates back on. Mom keeps trying to convince him to work with the high school team Grayson plays for, the Screaming Peaches. He refuses to, but I can see the longing in his eyes. I think he will. Someday.
Later, as I’m getting ready to leave, Cyrus approaches me, his eyes downcast. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he meets my gaze. “I’m sorry about heckling you earlier.”
His apology is a little shocking, but I keep the surprise hidden from my face. Cyrus may have learned some lessons over the past year, but I know it’s still hard for him to admit when he’s wrong.
I shrug. “It’s no big deal, Cy. I expect nothing less from my little twerp of a brother.” I grin, hoping to keep things light so I can get out of here without anyone bringing up the L-word again.
Cyrus only frowns. “Are you okay?” He looks over his shoulder to make sure no one is eavesdropping. “I mean . . . umm . . . how are you holding up with Lois—”
“I’m fine,” I interject with more force than I intend.
“Yeah, sure.” Cyrus nods, his eyes narrowing at me. “You know I’m here if you want to talk. Right?”
I exhale an exasperated breath. Talking is the last thing I want to do. Right now, I just want to go home and go through the motions again.
“I know,” I mumble. “See you later, man.”
Cyrus gives me a long look and sighs. Then he pulls me into a hug, pounding me on the back. I know he’d rather be back with his team, spending his days on the ice, but I’m glad he’s back home.
And maybe I’ll talk to him about everything I’m going through. But not tonight.
I stare blankly at the TV and take another bite of ice cream. I’m aware that I’ve hit a new low in life. If Cyrus and Titus could see me now, they’d never let me live it down. The laugh track on the sitcom I’m watching echoes through my empty house.
Another spoonful of half-melted ice cream makes its way into my mouth.
As numb as I feel, there’s something therapeutic about being curled up with a fuzzy robe, stuffing my face with junk food, and watching a comedy. No wonder girls do this after a heartbreak.
Glancing around my dirty living room, I let out a deep sigh. It’s been a week since I had dinner at Mom’s, and I’ve let my little cottage go. Heck, I’ve not even been out to surf in days.
If it weren’t almost midnight, I’d head out now. That is, if I could make myself get up. I’m not sure it’s possible. I’m pretty sure my body has become one with the couch. I can’t tell where my skin ends and the plush fabric begins.
I love being close to the beach where I can open the windows and let the breeze bring in the salty scent of ocean water and sand. During peach season, even the tangy sweetness of fresh-picked peaches makes its way through the windows. I’d lucked out and found this little gem on a secluded section of the beach. With Dad and the twins' help, I completely renovated it exactly the way I wanted.
The walls are a neutral light gray all through the house. The rest of the decor is various shades of blue with the occasional pop of yellow. Like the ocean on a sunny day. My couch—the one I’m currently plastered to—is a deep ocean blue. But one of my favorite features is the dark wooden beams running across the ceiling.
I’ve spent hours picturing bringing Lois here as my wife. Of little blonde-haired kids running around the house.
That dream was washed away like the sand with the ocean tide.
Coming home used to give me peace, solace . . . hope. But now, like a floating fish being drawn back to the depths of the sea, that hope is dead and gone.
Someone knocks on my door, earning a groan from me. What could Mrs. Graham possibly want at this time of night?
Setting my bowl on the coffee table, I force myself off the couch as the knocking continues. “I’m coming. I’m coming,” I mumble, frustrated by being interrupted from my moping.
I’m just shrugging out of the robe—because no self-respecting man should be caught in a fuzzy robe—when my front door swings open.
“What the—” I’m cut off by the sounds of cackling. My head falls forward, landing on the wall. Just kill me now.
“What is going on?” Cyrus barely manages to get out between bursts of laughter.
With my forehead still pressed to the wall, I turn my head to glare at my annoying brothers.
“That’s what I’d like to know. Why are you breaking into my home at midnight?”
Titus holds up a set of keys, a smirk on his face. “We used our keys. So not breaking in.” Just how many people have a set of keys to my house?
Letting out a deep breath, I push off the wall and turn away from them. No point in taking off the robe now. Except—
“Are you taking pictures of me?” I swing around to find Cyrus grinning from ear to ear as he snaps pictures with his phone.
“Never miss a good blackmail opportunity.” Cyrus slips his phone back into his pocket as he and Titus follow me into the living room.
I plop on the couch, trying to ignore my brothers. “You’re the worst.”
Titus raises an eyebrow. “Hate to break it to you, man, but have you looked in the mirror lately?”
I shoot him a glare before turning off the TV. “What are you guys doing here?”
Cyrus sinks down beside me, while Titus leans against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “It’s an intervention, big brother.” Cyrus’s gaze takes me in from head to toe. “I just hope we aren’t too late.”
Snorting, I slice my eyes to his. “Out of all of us, you think I’m the one who needs an intervention?”
Cyrus puts both palms up. “Hey, I’ve already had my fall from grace, and look at me”—he smiles brightly, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes—“I picked up the pieces and am doing better than ever.”
So he says. I only grunt in response.
“Man, now you’re sounding like Titus.” Cyrus flicks his eyes between Titus and me. “Dude, you gotta get it together. I can’t handle having two grouchy brothers.”
“I’m fine,” I reply through gritted teeth.
Titus raises that eyebrow again. “Is this what fine looks like?” He tips his head to the plethora of junk food spread across my coffee table.
Anger spreads through my chest. “What do you expect me to do, Ty?”
Titus pushes off the wall, taking a couple of steps toward me. “I expect you to get your act together and start acting like a man instead of a teenage girl.” I scoff, but he continues. “Yeah, it sucks that Lois got married. But have you ever stopped to think that maybe it’s because she wasn’t the woman God planned for you?”
The comment stings, because somewhere in the back of my mind, I’ve had the same thought. If Lois and I were end-game, wouldn’t we be together?
Sighing, I run my hand through my messy hair. Man, I really need a shower. “I know, Ty. I’m trying. It’s just . . . Lois has been my dream for so long, I’m not sure what to do with myself.”
“Maybe that means you’re supposed to find a new dream,” Cyrus says quietly, pain lacing his voice. He’d lost his dream, too. Even if it had been a career and not the woman he loved.
“You can’t stop living, Bram. And you can’t go on wanting another man’s wife,” Titus says.
“I don’t—”
“Bram, stop fooling yourself. Look around.” Titus waves his hand. “I get being upset, but it’s been almost a month. You’ve got to move on. Stop canceling on Mom. Stop missing church. Stop hiding.”
“You want Lois to be happy, don’t you?” Cyrus asks.
My chest tightens. “Of course.”
Cyrus offers me a sad smile. “Then, I think you need to accept the fact that you and she have always and will always be just friends.” He cringes slightly. “Sorry, man. I know it’s a hard pill to swallow. But that’s just the way it is.”
Cyrus grips my shoulder then stands, and he and Titus make their way quietly out the door, leaving me alone with their words hanging thick in the air around me.
Burying my head in my hands, I let out a pained groan. “God, why? Why did this happen? Is this punishment for something? I just don’t understand.” Breathing out a shaking breath, I continue, “But . . . I can’t wish for their marriage to fail. God, let her be happy.”
My prayer continues until the tears have dried and I can’t pray any longer. I find my Bible under a chip bag and flip it open to Philippians. I spend the next half hour reading about Paul’s reaction to his suffering. Conviction lays heavily on my heart. Paul didn’t cower and hide away. He didn’t go back to his old life because things got hard.
No. He pressed on, rejoicing and being bold in his faith.
I know it’s coming before I get to the verse in the last chapter, but it still has the power to knock the breath out of me.
“Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.”
My eyes mist over and my heart clenches in my chest. Titus and Cyrus are right. It isn’t honorable or pure or commendable to keep thinking of Lois. My thoughts haven’t been exactly lustful, but I have been spending a lot of time coveting another man’s wife.
Because that’s what Lois is now. She belongs to someone else, and I have to let her go, once and for all.
A little way down the page, my eyes land on another verse that brings tears streaming down my face. Paul, who had suffered more than I could ever imagine, hadn’t been discontent or bitter about his situation.
No, he had grown in contentment in Christ because he knew that God would give him the strength to do all things in Him.
I release a shuddering breath and beg God to take it all away. To forgive me for my thoughts and actions. And to help me be content in my circumstances. To give me the strength to move on.
Although I know it will probably hit me again when I see Lois, I go to bed with a peaceful heart and sleep all night for the first time in weeks.