Chapter Thirty-One
Brandee
“T hat’s enough business talk for now,” Isley informs me.
We’ve been on a video call since Brew dropped me off after breakfast.
“Okay, how is Asa?” I ask.
She sighs, and I can feel the weight of it across the line.
“He’s comfortable. The people at the facility are wonderful,” she says.
“But …” I press.
“But he doesn’t recognize any of us anymore.
Not even Mom. She’s handling it like a champ.
She takes him lunch every day and introduces herself as a friend of his nurse because it only upsets him if she tries to explain that she is his wife.
They eat his favorite foods and talk about the weather, or sometimes, he tells her about his time working at Paysour Lumber.
She shares stories about her children and grandchildren,” she explains.
“I’m sorry, Isley. I know that’s hard. I wish I were there with you,” I tell her.
“You know what? It’s not as hard as I thought it would be. We spent the last few years saying everything we wanted to say. We had a long, precious goodbye, and this is just the time where we love him through the scary part. We knew it was coming.”
“Still sucks donkey balls,” I mutter.
She barks out a laugh through her tears. “Yeah, it does.”
“I’m glad Langford and Tuck are going to be there soon,” I say, changing the subject.
“Me too. But what I really want to hear about is this hunky bartender with the kind of ass you could bounce a quarter off of,” she quips, the heaviness in her voice instantly lifting.
“You’ve been talking to Erin, I see.”
“Girl, she started a new group chat without you the day she got back from the island and has been sending us updates ever since,” she informs me.
That doesn’t surprise me.
“He’s amazing. He’s thoughtful and protective, and he’s so damn sexy. Our chemistry is off the charts. I haven’t had to fake it once.”
She giggles. “Well, that’s a good thing.”
“Right? I can’t remember the last time that happened with a guy I was dating.”
“So, you two are dating?”
I shrug. “I don’t know what to call it. We’ve spent a lot of time together in a short period. I’m going to this Friendsgiving with him and all his friends this week. They get together after spending time with their separate families, and this year, they decided to draw names for a gift exchange.”
“A gift exchange for Thanksgiving?” she asks, surprised.
“Yeah. Sebastian and Avie are going to Atlanta for Christmas, Eden and Wade are visiting her parents, and Anson and Tabby are heading to Boston. So, they decided to combine the two holidays this year,” I explain, even though she doesn’t know who all those people are.
“Whose name did you get?” she asks without missing a beat.
“I kind of conspired with Amiya to make sure I got Brew’s name. She was in charge of drawing the names, and she’s the only one who knows that.”
“What did you get him?”
“Sneakers.”
Her brow furrows. “Sneakers? Isn’t that something a man usually prefers to pick out for himself?”
“I know. But I think he’s struggling financially, and he wears this beat-up pair of Nikes all the time. The soles are literally falling apart. So, I guessed his size and ordered the exact same pair, style, and color because it’s obviously something he loves.”
“That’s sweet.”
“Do you think it will embarrass him?” I ask.
“Not if everyone is exchanging gifts,” she says. “Now, if you were buying them for him out of the blue, it might.”
“That’s what I was hoping.”
“Oh, I gotta go. Mom is calling for me,” she says.
“Okay. Kiss the babies for me. Love you.”
I’m sitting on the front porch, swinging gently and reading, when Sabel walks over, carrying a box.
“Hello!” she bellows as she makes her way up the steps.
“Hi, Sabel. What do you have there?” I ask.
“It’s one of Freda’s famous apple pies. She made a few for the church’s Thanksgiving service, and I had her make a few extra. I thought you and Brew might enjoy this one.”
She throws his name in so casually that I almost miss it.
I take the box from her hands and set it beside me on the swing. “Thank you. I guess you’ve been talking to Avie since you know about me and Brew,” I say.
“Yes, but it was actually Willis who mentioned that you and Brew were friends. So, when Avie was over to pick up Leia, I asked her how things were going between you two.”
“And what did she say?”
“Just that you two were spending time together.”
“Yeah, we met at Whiskey Joe’s and—”
“Yes, Avie told me all about it.”
“And you don’t think badly of me?”
She frowns. “Why on earth would I do that?”
“Because I came here to house-sit for Aunt Ida and immediately brought a strange man home,” I say, feeling embarrassment creep up my spine.
She waves me off. “Brew’s not a strange man. He’s delightful.”
By “strange man,” I meant because I didn’t know him, but okay.
“He is pretty great,” I say in agreement.
“He’s also complicated. I’ve known him his whole life. He, Lennon, and Wade have been thick as thieves since they were kids.”
“Complicated?”
She takes a seat in the rocker beside the door. “Yes, you see, he’s had a lot of responsibility thrust upon him. It hasn’t left him much time for anything else, and all of his relationships, apart from his handful of childhood friends, have been superficial at best.”
“Responsibility? What kind of responsibility?” I ask.
“His family,” she says.
“Like an ex-wife and kids?”
She bursts out laughing. “Goodness, no! His parents and grandparents.”
“He takes care of them?”
“He just works hard for them,” she clarifies.
That would explain why he’s struggling.
“It’s nice that you two have connected,” she adds.
“Yeah, I’ve enjoyed getting to know him.”
She brings her gaze to me. “Yes, you’re probably the only person who truly does. Just remember that, sometimes, it’s hard for him to let people in completely. To trust that they’re genuine. But if you’re patient and it’s meant to be, eventually, he will.”
“Okaaaay,” I draw out, feeling confused.
“Good. Now, I hear you’re going to be joining the kids for Friendsgiving, but I hope you’ll also join us for Thanksgiving dinner at my house.”
“I don’t want to impose,” I say.
“Nonsense. Ida Mae is family, and she spends every Thanksgiving with us. You’re family now, too, so I expect to see you at my table,” she says as she stands.
“Thank you. I’ll be there,” I reply.
She glances over her shoulder and adds, “Do you feel that?”
“What?” I ask.
“The breeze is kicking up. If we’re lucky, it’s carrying a little island magic.” She winks and then sashays across the street.
Island magic. If such a thing exists, I think Sabel Hollister is the one carrying it.