Chapter 17
Ibolt up in bed when I realize how much sunlight is coming through the window.
Winnie gets sun in her room in the morning.
Not me. I look to my nightstand for my phone but it’s missing, so I search the comforter and sheets until I find it under the other pillow.
The red battery symbol flashes and I curse under my breath, plug it in, and dash into the kitchen.
The clock over the stove tells me I have less than twenty minutes to get Winnie up, dressed, fed and to the Y.
I open her door, and she is snoring with her stuffy.
“Win, it’s time to get up,” I call to her, but she only grunts and turns her head the other way. “We’re late.”
A louder grunt.
“Win, come on. How about Pop-Tarts in the car?”
She grunts once more, but this time, she stretches.
“I know, I'm sorry. I forgot to charge my phone for the alarm.” I leave out that I fell asleep on the phone with my not-boyfriend again.
The guilt eats at me as we stumble out the door with untoasted Pop-Tarts in hand. I make it a single step before I am tripping over the large paper package on the ground.
“What’s that?” Winnie asks.
I freeze. “Flowers.”
I pick them up and there’s no note, but by the brown paper and twine tied around it, I know exactly who these are from. Instead of soft pink peonies, these are bright red tulips.
Winnie’s eyes sparkle with question. “Who are they from?”
“There’s no name,” I tell her truthfully.
Down in the parking lot, I glance over toward the auto shop, and I see Tanner immediately.
He doesn’t see me as he grabs the bottom of his shirt and wipes the sweat from his face.
There is nothing but tanned smooth skin with light-colored hair that travels from his chest down below his pant line.
He drops his shirt, looks up and meets my eyes.
That mustached smirk catches me red handed.
I need to dunk my head into a bucket of ice water.
“Mo-om,” Winnie whines.
I blink back to Tanner and get in the car, putting the flowers in the passenger seat.
“Are those from Tan?” Winnie asks.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“So, he is your boyfriend.” Her little voice has a shimmering giggle to it, and I catch her eye in the rear-view mirror.
“No,” I tell her. “He’s my friend.”
“Does Aunt Laurey buy you flowers?”
No, I answer in my head, then roll down the windows and crank up the radio.
When we pull up to the Y and park, Winnie hesitates before getting out of the car. The dread hits almost instantly. Fear that the honeymoon phase is already over, and we are settling back into the separation anxiety that consumed her throughout preschool.
“What’s up bug?” I turn around in my seat, but she doesn’t look anxious. Just thoughtful.
“Tan should be your boyfriend.”
I wait a beat before responding. “Why do you think that?”
“He cooks and gets us flowers. Dad didn’t do that. He wasn’t a very good boyfriend.” She unbuckles, grabs her bag and slips out of the car.
I follow after her to ask what else, like I'm desperate for her to say more. To say what I’ve already been thinking and feeling. But she’s already off and I hardly get a wave from her before she slides right in amongst her group.
I'm halfway back to the apartment when Lauren calls.
“Are you around today? Want to come over for coffee?”
“On my way.” I hang up and ten minutes later I am parking behind Rhett’s truck.
“Morning.” Lauren smiles at me from the dining table, looking more refreshed than I have seen her in days.
“You seem good.” I hesitantly set my bag down.
She nods. “I have a day off from writing and Rhett is on a deadline, so he’s working upstairs. Grab yourself some coffee and we can go sit out back.”
Lauren and I settle on the deck and spend the morning and early afternoon recounting summers of our childhood.
Like when I built her a pillow fort in her room.
She thought it was magical, but I did it because Mom and Dad had been fighting and I wanted to distract her.
Or when we would walk up the few blocks to the gas station to buy ice cream from the little freezer chest in the back.
She thought those were adventures, but it was usually just more fighting.
Each memory wasn’t of huge importance, nothing worth writing or reading about, but these little pieces of our childhood, though inconsequential, they’re ours. Something only we share.
“Just think,” she says after a while. “If you move here, every summer could be like this. Our kids could have memories like we do.”
I picture that for Winnie. I picture a life with a big family, spending her days between here and Tanner’s farm. A life with overflowing dinner tables, and busy rooms filled with people who love her.
“I’ll never say never,” I offer. As much as I want that for Winnie, part of me fears that no matter how much I want it, I won’t actually be able to get it for her.
“Speaking of.” Lauren tucks her hair. “Mom called yesterday.”
Shit.
“A good call or bad call?”
She shrugs. “Both. She’s upset that she hasn’t heard from me recently, but I think she just feels left out on the wedding planning.”
“That sounds like a bad call.”
“But then.” Lauren raises her eyebrows. “She said she will be excited for another grandbaby when we’re ready.”
“Did you tell her?”
“No.” She grimaces and forces a weak smile. “I can’t. Not yet. You know how she is. Once I tell her, she’s going to book a flight and move into the spare room. She’s going to make a huge deal out of all of it, and I just don’t need her hovering around and asking questions.”
“What, like I'm doing?”
“No.” She nearly leaps over and grabs my hands. “No, Hannah. I basically begged you to be here. I want you here. I don’t want Mom to even cross state lines.”
“I think you should tell her sooner rather than later,” Rhett says as he joins us and sits next to Lauren.
“Nope. Not you two ganging up on me.” She shakes her head. “Rhett, how about you go pick up Winnie from camp and Hannah and I will discuss the lingerie for the honeymoon.”
His eyebrows shoot up, and the newspaper is tossed aside. “And why would I leave for that?”
“Go,” she laughs. “And pick up some pizza on the way home.”
Nearly an hour later, Rhett is back with a box of pizza and Winnie trailing behind. “We put those flowers in some water so they wouldn’t die in your car.” Rhett smirks.
Shit, I forgot about them.
“Oh, those are just from the grocery store,” I lie but he shakes his head.
“I know Auclair flowers when I see them. Nice try.”
Lauren’s smile grows as Rhett sits in the empty chair next to her, his hand finding hers.
“When did he give you flowers? We’ve literally been together all day.”
“This morning. He left them on my doorstep.”
She pops up from her seat. “I need to see them.”
When she dashes in the door ahead of me, she gasps. Which is exactly why I should have risked being late and just put them in water at home.
“You’re joking.” She inspects them with her jaw dropped. “These are actually insane.”
“He has so many flowers, I'm sure this isn’t—”
She whips her head to face me and tilts her head. “This is the biggest bouquet of flowers I have ever seen. This is at least three dozen flowers.”
“He has so many flowers this probably doesn’t even make a dent.”
“Hannah.” Her head tilts. “Come on.”
“I'm not going there.”
“Let him take you out! What’s the worst that could happen? What could go so wrong?”
“I could really like him!” I snap. “That’s what could go wrong!
I could realize how real these feelings are and then when I leave in a couple of months, I will be heartbroken and so will Winnie.
I would only be making it worse than it’s already going to be.
She’s already asking if he’s my boyfriend. ”
“Well.” Lauren looks from the flowers back at me. “It sure looks like it’s getting harder to deny.”
“Well, he’s not my boyfriend. There is only the truth and what’s not the truth, and right now, the truth is that you need to plan for a wedding in two months, and for a baby after that.”
“Red tulips,” Rhett notes as he comes in and grabs some paper plates.
“Yeah?”
“They represent everlasting love. My mom used to write about them.”
“I doubt he picked them with any meaning in mind.”
Rhett shakes his head. “A few years ago, that would be true. But since he met you? I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“What am I going to do?” I ask and I don’t know if I'm asking Lauren, Rhett, the flowers, or the cabin’s wood paneled walls, but nobody answers.