Chapter 11 #2
Maybe she shouldn’t have ventured out alone, but she’d brought the stupid cane Dr. Sherman had advised her to use for extended walking until she felt more steady, hadn’t she?
And it was a beautiful Saturday. A stroll in the fresh air was a perfect change of pace after being cooped up in the hospital and at home for two weeks.
She reached the other side of the street and stepped carefully up onto the curb. Another fall was not on her agenda.
But with Devyn and the rest of the production crew sequestered this morning to choose the cast for the Helping Hands show, and Charley’s stand just a short walk from the house, the opportunity to get out had been too tempting to ignore.
Plus, she needed to demonstrate her independence. Devyn hovered too much.
At that less-than-kind thought, a jab of guilt pricked her conscience.
Skirting the remnants of an ice cream cone a disappointed someone had dropped, she exhaled.
Okay, fine. She ought to be grateful Devyn had offered to stay and help her out. Otherwise, she’d have ended up in a rehab facility until Dr. Sherman deemed her ready to be on her own 24/7.
But after the ego-battering she’d taken from Dennis, having to rely on an accomplished, successful sister for assistance only dinged her self-image more.
That’s why she had to get back to work ASAP, where her skills were respected and she was in control of her life.
And this solo walk was a first step that direction—whether Devyn liked it or not.
Charley lifted a hand in greeting as she approached, his face lighting up with one of his megawatt smiles. “Lauren! It’s wonderful to see you.”
“Hi, Charley.” She continued toward him, her steps slow, methodical, and deliberate. No stumbling allowed. “I was in the mood to venture out on my own, and I couldn’t think of a better destination than your stand.”
“I’m honored.” He gave a slight bow. “Tacos for one?”
She hesitated. Should she get an order for Devyn too?
No.
Carrying it home could be problematic, and who knew when her sister’s meeting would end? Besides, tacos were best eaten fresh.
“Yes. One order.”
“Coming right up.” Charley pulled fish fillets out of the cooler and set to work as he talked. “You’re looking good.”
“Thanks. I’m not back to normal yet, as you can see.” She lifted the cane. “But I’m getting there. Slower than I’d like, though.”
“Progress is a blessing, whatever the pace.” He diced a red onion and tossed it on the griddle. “It’s fortunate you have Devyn to give you a hand at home. The timing of the accident was providential in terms of her availability.”
“I guess.”
At her less-than-enthusiastic response, Charley shot her a sympathetic glance and selected an avocado from a basket. “I suppose it must be hard for someone with Devyn’s background to adjust to playing nurse.”
“No, it’s not that. She’s done everything that has to be done.” More, in fact. “I just don’t like having to rely on other people.”
“Ah.” Charley gave an empathetic nod. “Compromised independence can be difficult to accept. People like to be in control—or at least think they are.”
“I suppose that’s true. But accepting help from Devyn is especially hard.”
As the admission tripped off her tongue, she frowned.
Why on earth had she let such a revealing comment slip? She never talked about Devyn with anyone in Hope Harbor.
“That’s understandable. No one likes to impose on family members.
” Charley flipped the fish and began to chop the avocado, his tone conversational.
“But maybe Devyn doesn’t view this as an imposition.
It’s possible she’s grateful for this chance to spend a few weeks with you.
I expect living on opposite coasts can make it difficult to be part of each other’s lives. ”
Lauren glanced at two young women as they laughed and chatted while they walked down the street together. Like sisters would do, if they were close.
Not that she knew anything about such a relationship from personal experience.
Nevertheless, it was hard to fault Charley’s reasoning, especially since Devyn had tried on a couple of occasions since she’d been here to start a conversation about their strained relationship.
But long-standing and deep-seated resentment was difficult to erase.
And no matter what Devyn might say, nothing could change the fact that during their growing-up years, the family focus and finances had been centered on her. Or that her dancing ambitions had disrupted their family and sent Dad to an early grave.
“How old was Devyn when she went to San Francisco?”
At Charley’s follow-up question, she dialed back her silent rant. “Twelve.”
He shook his head. “I knew she was young, but I’d forgotten how young. Still a child, really.” He set three corn tortillas on the grill. “Do you think she was apprehensive about leaving home at that age?”
Lauren shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
That wasn’t a question she’d ever pondered—or asked.
“I don’t know. I always assumed she was all for it. Mom sure was. It was obvious Devyn had talent, and Mom said it would be a crime not to give her the opportunity to reach her potential.”
“A noble thought—but I wonder if Devyn agreed?”
Noble? Hah. Devyn’s talent had simply been Mom’s ticket out of Hope Harbor.
As for Devyn . . .
“I have no idea, but Mom’s take on her talent was obviously sound.
I mean, Devyn’s a principal dancer with one of the most prestigious ballet companies in the world.
Whatever her feelings at the time, that decision led her to the success she’s enjoyed.
How could she not be happy with her fairy-tale life? ”
Charley gave the fish on the grill a liberal sprinkling of his special seasoning, expression pensive. “Funny thing about fairy tales. Most of the characters have to deal with a fair amount of bad stuff before they find their happy ending.”
“I don’t think Devyn has.”
“You might be surprised. I imagine she has a few less-than-rosy stories to share about her journey to success.”
Lauren squinted at him.
Did she? And how had she felt about leaving home at age twelve?
“Are you eating on the wharf or taking these home?” Charley began assembling the tacos.
She hesitated.
The walk here, short as it had been, had required more energy than she’d expected.
It might be wise to claim a harborside bench. Give the shakiness in her legs a few more minutes to subside while she ate.
“Here.”
“Excellent choice. I’ll put a bottle of water in the bag for you. And you’re in luck. The picnic table in the gazebo is available.” He motioned toward the pocket park that was out of sight behind his food trailer.
“How do you know?”
“It was empty earlier, and no one’s come by. You may have to shoo Floyd and Gladys away, but they won’t mind.” He grinned at her as he wrapped the tacos in white butcher paper and slid them into a brown bag, along with the water.
Lauren’s mouth flexed as she dug out her wallet and handed over the cash for her order. Charley’s nonhuman friends were always amusing. “I can’t wait to dig into these after all the hospital food I ingested.”
“I imagine you’re glad to be eating home cooking again.”
“Yes—but only if I cook.” She took the bag he held out across the serving counter. “Devyn may be a great dancer, but her culinary skills leave a lot to be desired. Her go-to dinner is takeout. She’s already on a first-name basis with everyone at the Myrtle.”
Charley chuckled. “She came here quite often while you were in the hospital too.”
“I rest my case.”
“Well, no one can excel at everything. I may be able to paint, but I wouldn’t know how to thread a bobbin or use a pair of pinking shears. You, on the other hand, are an amazing seamstress.”
A flush warmed her cheeks. “Thanks, but my sewing skills were born of necessity. After Dad paid all of Devyn’s ballet expenses while I was growing up, there wasn’t much money left over for clothes. So I made most of my own.”
She frowned.
What was with her case of motormouth today? Could it be a side effect of her head injury?
“Sounds like giving Devyn the opportunity to develop her talent required hardships all around.”
“There were plenty on the home front, that’s for sure.” As far as she could tell, however, neither Devyn nor Mom had had to pinch pennies.
“I imagine she appreciates all the sacrifices that were made on her behalf.”
Lauren tightened her grip on the bag as the savory, spicy scent of the tacos tickled her nose.
Hadn’t Devyn tried to broach that subject in the hospital too?
Hard to recall with any certainty, thanks to her fuzzy thinking after the injury. But the brain fog was clearing up . . . even if her mixed feelings about Devyn’s presence weren’t.
A family group approached the stand, and Lauren called up a smile. “I should claim that table before someone else does.”
“Smart plan. Enjoy your lunch.”
“Always.”
Bag in hand, she circled the taco stand, leaning more heavily on her cane than she had earlier.
But the sky was blue, the sun was warm, and she was healing.
Devyn would likely read her the riot act for wandering off by herself, but this foray had helped restore a sense of normalcy to her life.
And while seabirds wheeled overhead and a silver-white harbor seal sunned itself on Little Gull Island, perhaps the fresh sea air would blow the remaining cobwebs from her mind so she could ponder the seeds Charley had planted.
After all, Devyn was the only family she had, other than Mom. And Mom didn’t count. It was a shame they’d never been close, but it was what it was.
So maybe it was time to reconsider her relationship with the sister who’d trekked more than three thousand miles on a moment’s notice to offer love and support—and who seemed ready and willing to make a new start.