Chapter Two
Tyler
The one person I didn’t want to run into under any circumstances was staring back at me with her big, beautiful green eyes.
All the Evans kids had the same green eyes. It was startling at best. My old buddy, Mae’s brother Brad, had the same green eyes. But they looked best on Mae.
Everything looked best on Mae.
Mayflower.
Damn it. How did that nickname roll off my lips like that?
It had been the one and only giveaway to Brad that she’d caught my eye way back when. It felt so weird to be back.
I sipped the coffee and was surprised at how good it tasted. It wasn’t just bitter liquid in a cup. It had fullness and nuttiness, almost a hint of sweetness.
Just like Mae.
I climbed into my truck and sat for a second.
When I’d picked out a rental vehicle, I thought I’d better choose a truck to help my parents with whatever they might need. I wanted to look back inside to see what Mae was busy doing, but I knew better. I was only here for a week—at the most.
This trip was intended to be stealthy, so I never planned on reaching out to Brad.
In and out without anyone getting a hint that I was back on Marigold.
That was the plan.
But now I had no choice but to give Brad a ring.
It wasn’t that I disliked him. He was the very best friend I’d ever had. It was just that when I graduated from high school, I knew I never wanted to come back.
He knew he wanted to stay forever.
And Mae.
She was a definite complication.
I gripped the steering wheel and pulled onto the familiar main road that went through town. The shops and cafes lined the street. Different colored awnings dotted the buildings. Vivid flowerpots lined the sidewalks. Things had changed here. It had grown more touristy, but there was something still so recognizable. It was like stepping back in time with the old brick buildings standing tall next to the beach cottages, several of which had turned into stores.
Letting out a sigh, I followed the road out of town to the home I grew up in. The place I’d done everything in my power to stay away from. Just the thought of it made me uneasy. I couldn’t imagine what state the place was in. My brother and I both left the moment we had an excuse to go, and the last time he’d been back was several years ago. He’d told me the place looked worse than I could ever imagine.
Being that it didn’t look great when I lived there, I could only imagine how dreadful it looked.
That was kind of how it was, though. We were the brothers who lived in that creepy house by the sea, and it wasn’t the house’s fault.
It was just a typical old beach house with wood siding, a little porch out front, and a path down to the rocky beach.
The problem was that those who owned it didn’t care.
They didn’t care about much in life.
It was the complete opposite of the Evans family. They’d always been so loving and welcoming. They cared about anyone and everyone they came into contact with. It was nice to see that difference when I was a kid, to know that there was another way of living. It gave me something to strive for all these years.
I scratched my chin and looked out at the waves crashing against the rocks below. I’d be at the house in less than a minute and wasn’t sure I was ready.
But it was my turn. My brother came the last time they needed something, and now it was my moment to play the dutiful son. But that was the problem. It was an act.
The thought of seeing my parents after all this time left a gnawing sensation deep in my stomach. It almost felt like heartburn. I took a sip of coffee and couldn’t help but smile, thinking about Mae.
I shook my head and let out a deep breath. Mae, Brad, and the rest of the Evans family got me through high school, and I doubt they even knew it.
My old house came into view.
The sea air hadn’t been kind to it. The money I’d sent to repair and paint the siding obviously didn’t go to that project.
I shook my head, unsurprised.
The wood siding on the house had been so worn down that the ashy grey made the wood look nearly transparent. The trim barely clung to the windows. The porch steps looked crumbled along the corners, and the weeds were knee-high.
I was relieved that I’d chosen to book a few nights at a hotel in town.
Pulling into the narrow drive, I felt my heart pound harder, and it frustrated me. I was a grown man, nearly forty.
Yet all the feelings rushed back like I was a kid again. The darkness hung in the cab of my truck. Apprehension sank into my chest. I didn’t want to be here, but there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.
I parked the truck, turned off the ignition, and sat in the cab for a few minutes, trying to remind myself that I wasn’t fifteen any longer. Their words couldn’t hurt me. The wounds hadn’t necessarily healed, but they didn’t burn as potently as before.
By the time I’d managed to climb up the stairs, I really didn’t want to be here.
I knocked on the door and halfway expected it to fall off the hinges. Instead, I heard thumping, followed by the door creaking as my mom appeared, looking as disheveled as the day I left for college. My mother’s beige bathrobe clung to her body. Her stringy hair looked like it hadn’t been combed in days, if not longer. But none of it was anything new. Other than a few more lines along her eyes and forehead, she looked the same as when I’d left.
“Wondered if you’d bother showing up.” Her eyes didn’t brighten when they saw her youngest son. They darkened. I brushed off the familiar feelings and cleared my throat.
“I told you I would. I’ve always been a man of my word.” I gritted my teeth as she stepped aside, and I walked into the small house.
The place was filthier than before. Stacks of unopened mail, bags, and boxes littered the small hallways. The door opened directly into the small gathering room where an oversized recliner parked in the corner held my father. The stuffing poked out from the seams, and my father stared at me without a greeting. He wore the same color robe as my mother, sweatpants, and flattened slippers.
“I see everyone is in great spirits, as usual,” I said, closing the door behind me.
The moment I did, I regretted it. An odd mustiness hung in the air.
“Those jeans don’t fit you well.” My father’s brows rose. “What part are you trying to play in them? A clown, maybe?” He looked at my mom, and she smiled. “Why don’t men wear jeans that are jeans? What happened to Levis?”
“They are Levis.” I looked at the time on my phone. “We have to get to the physical therapist in twenty minutes, and you’re not dressed. Do you need my help or Mom’s?”
“I’m not going.” My father turned his attention to the television. “And I certainly wouldn’t want any help dressing if I looked like you afterward.”
Ah, good times.
I looked at my mother for assistance, but she just sat on the couch and watched the same program as my dad. A pile of magazines and scratch tickets fell to a different heap on the floor when she lifted her legs onto the couch.
I rubbed my hands together and laughed, shaking my head. “Okay, so you’ve had every single care nurse quit. The transportation company Paul and I organized returned our money, and they quit. I’ve tried every option out there that would be convenient for the two of you.”
“I don’t have to do what I don’t want to do.” His lips turned into the familiar frown I’d grown accustomed to as a kid.
I nodded my head, feeling the frustration boil through me. “But you just had hip replacement surgery. If you don’t do the rehab, you’re going to deteriorate quickly.”
“Ah, who cares?”
I looked at my mom, expecting her to say something. She didn’t.
“You might wind up in a nursing home.”
Neither of them said a word.
“One week of therapy. That’s it. I spoke to the therapist, and she told me if I could get you to her sessions this week, you can do the rest at home. If you don’t, it will be very difficult for you to be mobile.”
My father’s dark eyes flashed to mine. “No.”
I refused to lose my patience with them. I wasn’t going to slide back into the cycle from my childhood.
“Then why did you ask me to come?” The question was for either of them, and they both remained silent. “If I remember correctly, you had both Paul and me on the phone and said you would feel more comfortable if one of us drove you to the sessions. Correct?”
“I don’t remember saying that,” my dad mumbled.
My brows rose. “Mom?”
“I don’t remember what we talked about.”
“Well, forget the change of clothes.” I reached for his walker, opened it, and wheeled it in front of his chair. Paul and I bought this electric recliner when my mom had her knee surgery, and it proved to be very useful. I grabbed the button to raise his recliner slowly. It could go two ways. He could either use the walker or tumble to the ground. I knew my father had the will of self-preservation in him, so I was willing to take the risk.
He grabbed at the walker.
“I’ll buy lunch after you finish physical therapy.”
“A cheeseburger and fries.”
“That’s fine.” I nodded, helping him to the door.
He knocked his elbow into my ribcage. “Don’t help me.”
“What about the stairs?”
“I’m fine.”
I nodded as I opened the door and watched him trip over the threshold. I hated to see anyone struggle. It didn’t matter whether they were good people or not. It wasn’t pleasant.
I instinctively reached for my father’s waist and helped him down the stairs with the walker, and he didn’t say a word.
Thankfully, the truck wasn’t too tall, and he grabbed the bar and pulled himself in as I helped with his leg.
So far, so good.
I put his walker in the truck bed, climbed into the cab, and started the engine. I glanced at my dad, noticing how angry he looked. He’d always been angry.
“This woman had better know what she’s doing,” he grumbled. “I don’t want any of these local hacks to screw me up more.”
“No one is going to screw you up. It’s very difficult to get into school for this profession. She’ll do the best she can, but a lot of it rests on your shoulders and how much therapy you do at home.”
I could feel his eyes on me as he let out a huff and started up again. “I can’t stand this God-forsaken place. You’re lucky you got out when you did.”
“The island seems to have grown a lot,” I said, trying to keep the conversation positive. “Lots of great-looking restaurants and shops.”
“It’s all ridiculous. Nobody needs to come to Marigold Island.”
“Dad, it’s actually a beautiful place.”
“Then why’d you and your brother leave if it’s so great?” His eyes narrowed on me as I drove back into town.
Now wasn’t the time to explain that it had nothing to do with the island and everything to do with him and my mother. There was no point in bringing it up. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered.
My job was to get my father to physical therapy three times this week so that he could do the exercises at home, and I could get out of here.
Simple as that.
I spotted the bungalow that had been painted a bright blue with even brighter white trim and turned into the physical therapy office. The little sign hung from the awning. A ramp went along the side filled with flower baskets with trailing purple and white petunias.
“Yeah. Real top-notch care,” my father mumbled.
I unbuckled and let out a slow breath. “Would you just be kind to the therapist, please?”
I opened the door and walked around to the passenger side, where I helped my father out of the truck and handed him the walker. We slowly made our way up the ramp and to the door. I opened it up to a little chime ringing through the air.
A receptionist smiled when she spotted us, and I got my dad planted in one of the chairs while I went up to check in.
“Name?”
“Mervin Grant.”
“Ah, yes. Okay. Bethany will be out shortly.”
“Thank you so much,” I said, looking at my father scowling at a floral arrangement.
I sat next to him. “This will be good. You should get stronger in no time and get back to your routine.”
“I don’t have one.”
“Okay.” I nodded, kicking my feet out. “You’ll feel better. How about that?”
“Doubt it.”
I thought back to the house. Time hadn’t been kind to it, but the truth was that my brother and I had taken over the house payments years ago. We sent them money for food, maintenance, transportation—whatever we could. Yet, none of that mattered. They”d still managed to wreck the house even more and live like nothing mattered.
Neither my brother nor I could figure out the crux of their carelessness or inability to… love. My brother went to therapy first and came out of it still wondering. I tried it a few years ago and just became more confused. My parents didn’t seem to fit a textbook anything.
But the one thing my therapist could pinpoint was how Brad and his family were the beacon of hope, specifically, Mae.
I’d tried to shake that feeling since, but it was the truth.
And since arriving back on Marigold Island, I felt it even more, which told me one thing.
I had to get out of here.