Chapter Five #2
But next came the sound of the door closing—not a slam, but definitely louder than a gentle click. The discussion went on, but Rowan couldn’t make out the words any longer, just the muffled sounds of a conversation she wasn’t privy to.
Well. Sounds like trouble in paradise.
She didn’t want to smile about that as she moved to her bed and slid under the covers. She didn’t want to feel a little glimmer of satisfaction.
But she did both.
The next morning showed that the clouds had rolled off to darken some other doorsteps, and by the time Rowan headed down to breakfast, the sun was reflecting off the water like the surface had been sprinkled with tiny diamonds.
“Morning,” she said to Justine—who was making French toast—as she pulled a mug out of the cupboard.
Stevie and Lizzie were off fishing again. Becca and Claire were on the living room couch chatting in soft voices. Evie was nowhere to be found.
“Morning,” Justine said, flipping four slices in rapid succession. “Sleep okay? Did the thunder keep you up? That was a long-ass storm.”
“Nah, I love storms like that.” She poured some cream into her coffee and made a show of looking around. “Where’s Evie?”
“Still sleeping, I think,” Justine said with a half shrug.
She nodded. “I’m gonna go sit by the water. You need anything?”
“Nope. You’re good. Don’t fall in.”
“Aw, look at you, ruining all my fun.”
Despite the sunshine and warm temperature, it still smelled like rain, and Rowan inhaled deeply as she headed down the stairs to the dock.
At the very end near the water, there was an Adirondack chair, and she wondered if Stevie—ever the early riser—had dragged it out there to have her own coffee that morning.
She took a seat, held her mug in both hands, and again breathed deeply the scents of water, earth, sunshine, and coffee.
Her entire nervous system relaxed.
Something she’d discovered since her accident, since her time in the hospital and since her recovery: nature healed.
Water. Sun. Earth. A year ago, she never would have considered herself even a little bit outdoorsy.
She was a city girl. She liked stores that were close and rides that were easy to get, and camping was nowhere on her bucket list. Now?
She still didn’t want to camp, but she did want to be outside.
She tended to sit in parks. Wander along creeks.
Read next to lakes. It centered her somehow, in some new way.
Calmed her in a way it never had before.
Weird, that.
Sitting alone on the dock, sipping her coffee and listening to a gaggle of ducks near the shore turned out to be exactly what she needed, and by the time she finished the last gulp, Lizzie’s boat was chugging slowly toward her.
Stevie smiled from the bow and gave her a wave, and Rowan’s heart warmed.
Thank God for Stevie. What she’d done in some other life to deserve a bestie like her, Rowan had no idea. But she was grateful every single day.
“Hey, sexy,” Stevie called, then tossed the rope to her. She took up the slack until Stevie hopped onto the dock and tied the boat securely.
“Bitches on the dock!” was Lizzie’s greeting, and it made Rowan grin as she realized she was even happier to be there than she’d expected to be.
“You check in with your smother today?” Stevie asked with a grin as she tied the second rope.
“Oh, good call.” Rowan pulled out her phone and sent a quick text to let her mom know she was alive. Three seconds after she pressed send, the phone rang in her hand. She gave Stevie a look and an eye roll, and Stevie laughed softly and mouthed, Sorry!
“Hi, Mom.” She had to force herself not to sigh in dramatic fashion. “I’m fine. Promise.”
“I’d like you to text a bit more often, young lady.”
Rowan tossed another look at Stevie, then hurried up the dock to have the conversation in a place with a bit more privacy.
She didn’t need her friends listening in on her nearly forty-year-old ass being scolded by her mommy.
She waited until she was tucked into the storage space underneath the deck before she spoke.
“Mom. I’m fine, I said.”
“Well, how would I know? It’s not like you’re calling me. What if something happened? What if you just keeled over? Keeled over dead? Then what?”
This time, she did sigh. Loudly. “Ma. Seriously. Nothing has happened. I just drank my coffee on the dock. That’s my excitement for today.
And if I happened to keel over dead, I’m pretty sure Stevie would let you know.
And then you’d have to find a hobby because you wouldn’t be able to stalk your own grown-ass adult daughter.
” Evie’s line from the night before suddenly came into her head.
I love you, but you have to back the fuck off.
She’d never say such a thing to her mom, but she was one hundred percent thinking it.
The silence stretched for a bit longer than usual, and she knew she’d likely hurt her mother’s feelings.
She fought the urge to rush to an apology, as she normally would, but she also knew she wasn’t wrong.
And on top of that, she knew that her mom was simply worried.
She was an only child. It had been Rowan and her mom against the world for most of Rowan’s life.
And she’d just had a huge health scare. It made perfect sense for her mom to be worried.
Nervous. Scared. She could have lost her. She almost had.
Any time her thoughts meandered down that path, any anger she felt at her mother, any frustration also evaporated. How could she be mad at her mom for giving a shit what happened to her?
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. When there was silence, she tried again. “Mom. You still there?”
“I’m here.” Her voice was tight and a sigh filtered over the line. “I’m sorry. I just worry.”
“I know you do. I’m sorry, too. Ignore me.”
“I just need to know you’re okay.”
“I’m okay. I promise. I’ll be better about checking in. All right?”
“Okay.”
They touched on a few more quick things that mostly had to do with Kevin, but the conversation was tight and ended after just a couple more minutes.
By the time she pressed the red button on her screen, any calm or relaxation she’d felt was gone, replaced by a low-key guilt that seemed to hum around anything that had to do with her mom lately.
“Mom driving you crazy?” The voice came from above her, through the wood slats of the deck over her head. Evie.
“Yeah,” she said as she trudged around to the steps and climbed them. Evie sat on a chair, a mug steaming in her hands. “You know how she is.”
“I do, but I’m sure she’s just worried about you.”
“She is. She means well. I know.” She wanted to sit in the empty chair next to Evie. She also wanted to run away.
“I imagine your accident makes her extra vigilant.”
“Or extra nosy.” Rowan instantly grimaced and closed her eyes, as she waved a hand in front of her like she was erasing a white board. “No. Forget I said that. That was mean. You’re right. She’s just worried.”
“I get that. She’s your mom.”
Rowan nodded, and her brain told her it was a good place to end the conversation, to head inside and grab some breakfast, but her feet clearly thought differently, because they stayed rooted to the deck like she was a tree and she lived in that spot now.
There were so many things she wanted to say to Evie.
So many things she wanted to ask. She knew this was probably not the time or place, but her lips parted, and she took a breath to speak.
The sliding glass door opened. “Hey. Next batch of French toast is up.” It was Claire, and she stood there, looking from Evie to Rowan and back.
There was a beat where Evie and Claire maintained eye contact, and it made Rowan wonder if Evie was waiting for Claire to go back in the house.
She didn’t. She continued to stand there in the doorway until Evie finally sighed and pushed herself to her feet.
With a glance and a sad smile at Rowan, she said, “I guess we should go eat.”
Rowan stepped aside to let her pass by and she and Claire both went in.
Rowan stood near the railing to collect herself and saw that both Stevie and Lizzie were headed up from the boat with all their gear.
Her stomach growled loudly, the Universe (and her body) telling her it was time for breakfast, not for deep conversations.
“Story of my life,” she muttered as she turned and headed inside.
Bennett’s was a restaurant that didn’t seem at all sure what it wanted to be. Was it a sports bar? A lakeside family diner? A burger joint? Nobody seemed to know for certain. Whatever the answer was or ultimately ended up being, the service was great and the food was impressive.
Their round table of eight was out on the lakeside deck, an open umbrella keeping them from baking in the August sunshine. The day was hot, but the umbrella—and the cocktails—kept them all cool enough and jubilant.
Rowan was mostly quiet, perfectly content to sit back and listen to her friends talk. Stevie and Lizzie had several fish tales, and nobody realized Lizzie was making hers up until she started talking about the shark she saw.
“Hold up,” Jazzy said after a moment, holding up a hand, her brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, did you say shark? In a freshwater lake in upstate New York? Yeah, I call bullshit on your entire story.”
Lizzie grinned as laughter erupted around the table. “Just making sure you’re paying attention.”
“No sharks,” Stevie said. “Just some damn big trout.”
“I can’t believe you just throw them back instead of bringing them home for Justine to cook for us.” That was Becca, who picked up her beer and took a sip.
Stevie just shook her head, but Rowan spoke up for her. “It’s because Stevie has a soft heart, and she can’t imagine pulling a fish out of its home and letting it suffocate on her boat so she can eat it.” She looked to Stevie for confirmation and was met with a frown and a nod.
“I just can’t do it. I’m a wimp.” Stevie wrinkled her nose.