Chapter 12 #2
Magnolia in a hipster, fire-breathing dragon-themed coffee house. The image of the dragon letter opener flickered in her memory. Broome had told her it was her favorite. The urge to cry evaporated.
Molly said, “She talked about all of you when she came. Mom sat with her when we weren’t busy.”
Rose’s face must have said what she couldn’t fathom.
“You don’t believe me,” Molly teased.
Rose shook her head even as a smile came to her lips. “I’m trying. It’s just…”
The younger woman turned. A hint of laughter rang through her words. “Mom, Rose doesn’t believe that Ms. Magnolia came here.”
Shirley chuckled and blew her a kiss. Rose drank to cover her expression, whatever it might be.
Molly shook with laughter when she turned back, her curls bouncing around in subtle mirth. “Your gran—she could be a grumpy one. Scared us both the first time she came round. We’d been warned about her, you see. No disrespect, if you get my meaning.”
This Rose could believe, but all she could do was nod, eager for more.
“She railed at us something fierce the first time she came in. Said we served compost for tea.”
Rose indicated the adjacent chair. She had to hear this story.
Molly sat down. “Mom and I were in absolute tears. We knew her reputation. We feared she’d blackball us, that our coffee house would fail.”
Not even Magnolia had that kind of influence.
Rose said, “She was very particular about her tea and wasn’t timid about letting people know.” Using past tense, she’d have to get used to that. “Her sister sent her tea from England.”
Her eyes widened. “We didn’t know. Funny thing is, she came back the very next day—then once a week after that.”
Rose nodded. “That sounds like her, too. She loved small businesses.”
Magnolia also liked to test people, evaluate their reactions.
“She came every week till she had that first stroke, sometimes with Broome.” Molly’s cheeks flushed. “After that, Broome brought her in or picked up to-go orders. He’s really sweet, your brother.”
“I would have brought her here if I knew she liked it.”
Molly shook her head, a hint of a frown grazing her expression. “I think it was their thing. She mentioned you and the others plenty, and was so proud of all of you.”
Interesting that neither Broome nor Magnolia ever mentioned this place.
The bell on the door jingled. Molly turned and jumped up. “Speaking of—I better get back to work.”
Her abruptness took Rose by surprise until she turned and saw Broome enter Firebrew, a backpack over one shoulder, a somber expression on his face.
Molly beat her mother to the register and took Broome’s order.
So the young barista had a crush on Broome.
She wasn’t the first. Both her college roommates described him as hot. She hadn’t wanted to hear it.
She watched Molly point a finger in her direction. So much for anonymity. With his own burgundy mug in hand, he turned towards her table.
Broome slid out of his jacket and hung it on the chair opposite hers. He sat, took a long sip from his mug, and studied her.
“Thorne wanted to be the one to find you,” he said. “I asked him to let me do it.”
For Broome to seek her out was unusual. To say he volunteered over another was worse. Then it all made sense.
“You know.” It wasn’t a question.
Another sip.
“Yes.” He didn’t look away, focused on her.
She broke eye contact first. Damn. She wasn’t ready for this conversation. Because if he knew…
Rose straightened, dug her fingers into her knee. “Do the others know?”
“No.”
“Why you?”
“I’ve always known you weren’t my real sister,” he confessed in a low voice, his voice stark with a sadness she hadn’t heard before.
A tightness gathered around her chest hearing the truth spoken aloud. Not his real sister. He’d always known. “How?”
“I remember when Mom and Dad brought you home. I was six. A neighbor stayed over to watch us. She thought all of us were asleep.” He shrugged.
“When I heard the garage door, I got out of bed. I sat at the top of the stairs and listened while they talked with the neighbor. I had a new sister. Yet I knew Mom wasn’t pregnant. ”
Things between them. His lack of patience towards her. She couldn’t help it.
“All these years…” she said in a hoarse whisper. With one hand, she motioned between them. “That’s why…” She couldn’t finish.
He swore. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop.
” He leaned forward, meeting her eyes with earnest. “You are my sister in every way that matters. I was six years old when they brought you home. I was told never to lie and was punished for breaking that rule. They told people Mom gave birth to you. I didn’t know what to think. ”
“You kept their secret all these years.”
He nodded. “Truth was, it scared me.”
“They never knew you knew?”
He shook his head. “Not Mom and Dad. As for Grandmother, it took me years to figure out she was your birth mother. Long after we moved in. She never spoke of it, not till after her first stroke.”
Her lips parted. Another question. The blank line on her birth certificate. Was it even appropriate to ask?
“Any idea who my father is?”
“It’s not on the birth certificate?”
“No.”
He pushed his fingers through his hair and sighed. “No idea. Is it important that you know?”
She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “I don’t know. All of this—it’s overwhelming. I feel different, like I’m not sure who I am anymore.”
“I would worry about you if you didn’t feel something. Truth is, you’re exactly who you’ve always been. Rose Everson Finch. Details behind that are a little different than you thought. You know the truth now.”
“I do, made it hard to sleep.”
“You’re calmer than I thought you would be. I expected you to be upset, even angry.”
“I’m a plethora of emotions. Why didn’t she tell me? I have so many questions that will never be answered.”
Rose looked at him, a man she’d called big brother as long as she could remember. She couldn’t think of him as anything else, but… “Can I still call you brother?”
His expression gentled. The lines around his eyes softened. He leaned forward, placed both his hands over hers. His words came out strong and sure. “I told you. I’m your brother in every way that matters. Always. We’ve got the documentation to prove it.”
“What about the others?” Nausea edged at the idea of telling the other three.
“Tell them when you’re ready.”
“Magnolia kept her secret for a reason.”
He shrugged. “The truth is yours now. Do with it what you wish.”
What did she wish? Part of her wanted to just tell them, get it out there and be done with it, but…
“Aspen is still angry about the house. She sent me three texts last night. This might send her over the edge.”
“The house is a symbol to her, nothing more. In time, she’ll understand.” He let go of her hands. “Grandmother knew what she was doing. Briar House is a part of you.”
Rose mulled his words over. His words rang true.
The house and its woods were part of her.
It was one reason her books were successful.
She cocked her head. Had Aspen ever walked through the trees, pressed her hands against their bark?
Did she know all the hidden secret places inside Briar House? Had she even looked?
I’ve heard your words, your poems to her, and the forest surrounding. She speaks to you.
Briar House was hers. She’d signed the paperwork last night. Her fingers had trembled when she’d put pen to page. Wild things tumbled inside her stomach.
“Are you and Simi still hosting the next family meal?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“I’ll tell them then.”
“If that’s what you want.”
She’d never liked the cliché about ripping off Band-Aids, but in this situation, it fit. “It is.”