Not So New in Town (24 page)

Oh yeah, he felt marvelous now. His dad had treated all his kids like shit.

“I continued to travel until about twenty years ago. Louise made me settle down, and that’s when I bought the hardware store.”

“That’s quite a story. Anymore illegal marriages and abandoned children roaming around?” Despite his sarcasm, Brogan shook in fear of the answer.

“N-no. Not that I’m aware of.”

Jesus. His dad was a regular gigolo. Love-’em-and-leave-’em Donny Reese. And to think he carried the man’s DNA. No wonder Brogan was always on the move. Perfect example of the apple not falling far from the tree…they both wandered, afraid of commitment. Afraid of settling down. Brogan felt sick to his stomach.

“Well, I need to be shoving off. I’ve taken up enough of your time.” His dad extended a trembling hand. Brogan hesitated but finally slipped his hand around his dad’s, giving it a gentle shake, feeling nothing but flesh and bones.

“You have a way home?” Another lump clogged his throat.

“Oh, sure. Your sister, Ashley, is waiting out front. She drove me here.”

Half sister. Brogan tried clearing any sympathetic feelings muddying up his head as he escorted his dad to the front door. He stopped by a barrel of Granny Smith apples and shoved two in a bag. “Here, D-Dad. For the road.”

“Thank you, Son.” His dad reached for the bag and gave Brogan a sad smile. “Ashley will appreciate it.”

Brogan gripped the door handle and nodded. He didn’t want to think about his sister, sitting out in a car on Main Street, or his brother…who knew where. He held the door open and watched as his dad shuffled over the threshold into the August heat.

“See you around,” Brogan said in a hoarse voice.

His dad stopped as if he’d forgotten something, but then gave a wobbly nod and said, “Have a good life, Son.”

Brogan watched as his dad dragged himself down the sidewalk. Complete numbness settled over him, freezing him in the heat. He released the door, and it slid closed. He should have been feeling release…liberation, freedom from all his pent-up anger and resentment. The truth shall set you free, and all that bullshit. So now he knew. His dad was a runner, going from woman to woman, not taking responsibility for his actions. A bigamist, deserting Brogan and avoiding the law. More afraid of being shunned by polite Southern society than doing the right thing and accepting his son in his life.

Brogan reached for one of the green apples, rolling it around in his hand, noticing a few bruises, just like his heart… He was always the kid who never got over being abandoned by his father. Always waiting…hoping his dad would show up and embrace the son he never knew. And then he became the man who never sustained a relationship with a woman. He’d been dogged by his dad’s stigma his whole life, living with the phobia of becoming just like him. That constant anxiety destroyed his marriage, because Brogan couldn’t overcome that drowning sensation. And the same would happen with Lucy, his
good
friend. He didn’t want to hurt Lucy. Pain stabbed the inside of his forehead, and Brogan squeezed the bridge of his nose. Everything centered on the compulsion not to repeat tainted Reese history. Better not to get involved than to destroy lives along the way. He could think of only one solution. Always the same one: cut his ties and move on.

A low growl set fire to his throat. Hurling the apple across the store, he nailed a display of stacked bottles of flavored vinegars before storming out.

Lucy climbed the porch steps to Brogan’s house and pushed her way through the front door, carrying two shoppers loaded with her homemade beef stir-fry, fresh bread from BetterBites, crisp spinach salad, and a nice bottle of champagne. And for dessert: yummy flourless brownies that Margo had taught her how to make. She glanced at her silver watch…right on time.

“Hey, Brogan? I’m here with your surprise,” she called as she dumped the bags on the newly installed soapstone countertops that gave his kitchen a warm, old-world glow. Lucy stopped to adjust her scanty panties from creeping up into uncomfortable land. She unloaded the food and pulled out plates, glasses, and utensils. She lit a kitchen candle that smelled of rosemary she’d discovered in one of the upper cabinets.

“I hope you’re hungry. And this time I’m talking about food,” she called out with a chuckle.

Satisfied with her bounteous display, she smoothed the front of her black dress, unzipping the top enough to give Brogan a tantalizing view of her lacy red bra. Wanda had insisted Lucy take a page from her book on how to lure men. Feeling ridiculous because Brogan was a sure thing, she acknowledged that it still never hurt to spice things up a bit. Reaching for the champagne, she popped it open. Time to start this anniversary party. She filled two flutes and sauntered down the dark hallway, wearing what she hoped was a sexy, come-and-get-it smile.

“You ready for your surprise?” she said, entering his room. Lucy halted as her smile slowly faded. Something was wrong, starting with no sign of Brogan and the empty bedroom that looked as if it had been swept clean. Her gaze traveled around the room. The bed linens had been stripped, and the top of Brogan’s dresser no longer held his multiple sport watches and loose change he kept on a small tray. Lucy inched toward the cracked closet door, peering inside. No shoes, no shirts…nothing except empty hangers and some old shoeboxes. Lucy gripped the stems of the flutes to stop them from shaking.

“What the…?”

Silence filled the room, heavy and ominous. Lucy took a fortifying gulp of champagne, allowing the bubbly liquid to burn the back of her throat, as her mind raced through the numerous scenarios. None of them good. What happened? Where was he?

“Brogan?” She tried to keep the alarm from her voice as she checked the adjoining bathroom. Spotless. No shaving cream or toothbrushes. The countertop had been wiped clean. Lucy worked her way back down the hall, peeking her head in the other two bedrooms and baths. No sign of life. From the great room, she could see he wasn’t out on the screened porch. And when she opened the door to the garage, his car was gone. Okay. There must have been an emergency. Lucy sent up a silent prayer, hoping no one was sick or injured. With unsteady hands, she placed both flutes on the kitchen island and reached for her handbag to retrieve her cell, when she stopped. There, propped next to the blender Brogan used to make his morning smoothies, was an envelope with Lucy’s name scrawled on the front. Somehow she’d missed it while preparing their meal.

“Good. This is all good. He left me a note that will explain the emergency.” Tamping down the panic that threatened to ricochet through her now alarmingly cold body, she reached for the envelope.

Lucy paused, trying to slow her breathing as she fumbled with the envelope flap. Pulling out the note, she unfolded the paper. Her eyes widened as she read:

Lucy:

Can’t put off NYC any longer. Been hanging around Harmony too long, and NYC is my priority now. You’ve been a great friend and big help to BetterBites. But we both knew from the beginning that this thing between us was a fling. No strings attached, right? And it was never my intention to come home permanently. Hope we can go back to the way things were and remain friends. You still have a job with BetterBites as long as you want it. It was nice reconnecting with you. Take care.

Brogan

PS: If you’re pregnant, please let me know, as I’d like to help with child support.

Lucy read and reread the short, impersonal note before it slipped through her stiff fingers and fluttered to the floor. She blinked uncontrollably, trying to see past the red burning her eyes.
Friends? Fling?
Was she missing something? They’d been more than just friends these past two weeks. Lucy knew it, and Brogan knew it. And now Brogan was denying it. But why?
What?
Lucy picked up her champagne glass and knocked it back in one huge gulp. Then she did the same with Brogan’s before dropping onto a barstool with her head in her hands. He’d cut and run without saying good-bye and without telling Lucy the real reason. Something or someone had gotten to him. Because only a few hours ago he’d been looking forward to this date. Lucy’s mind raced, trying to piece the mystery together. She moved to pick the note up off the floor and read his postscript again as the acid in her stomach churned.
Let
him
know
if
she
was
pregnant
because
he’d like to contribute to the cause
, as if she were some freaking charity. He was running scared from her and the possibility of a baby. As if she would trap him like that. Okay…yeah, she wanted him. And if she was pregnant, she wanted him in her and her baby’s life permanently. But she’d never trap him or force his hand. Would she?

She scrambled for her cell phone, hoping beyond hope he’d left a message or a text. There had to be another explanation that made sense and didn’t crack and crumble her heart into a million pieces. With sweaty fingers she tapped the screen of her phone, only to see she had no missed calls or texts. Without thinking, she called Brogan’s cell. After three rings, it went straight to voice mail. Lucy asked him to call her in what she hoped was a calm voice. Then she texted him the same message.

Numb, Lucy sat for the next hour, holding her silent phone. With dry eyes, she watched the sun go down over the lake…along with her hopes of hearing from Brogan go down with it.

* * *

It was Monday morning, two days after Brogan had dumped her via impersonal note, and Lucy had already dropped off a very sullen Parker for his first day at school. He wasn’t taking the news well that Brogan had skipped town. Neither was she. And for once, she didn’t have a pithy explanation to ease Parker’s pain. Lucy feared he’d revert back to his old pranks and old friends, and she didn’t know if she had the strength to deal with it. Everything was barreling straight to hell in a handbasket on high-speed Rollerblades.

Lucy sat in Wanda’s sunny kitchen, drinking another cup of weak tea to calm her raging stomach. Wanda kept repeating the same thing over and over again.

“Luce, something happened. Something or someone got to him in a big, bad way. Because I know Brogan would never leave like this.”

“Fried baloney. I showed you the note and his lame texts from yesterday, saying we both need to get back to our real lives. End of fairy tale. Mind you, there’s been no conversation, because he’s too chicken.” Afraid Lucy would break down and beg him to take her back. Which she would…if he’d only give her another chance. Pathetic. Lucy swiped an errant tear from her cheek.

“Oh, Luce. There has to be a real explanation. This is not like Brogan.” Wanda bent and gave Fiona a distracted pat on the head.

“You got any more of those Hostess CupCakes?”

“Sure.” Wanda plopped the Hostess box on the table, along with the bag of half-eaten Cheetos. “Knock yourself out.”

Lucy reached for a cupcake but then pulled back her hand. “Maybe I shouldn’t. My stomach is still rumbling.”

“You think? What’d you expect, four cupcakes and a pound of Cheetos later?”

“I’m upset. I always eat junk in large quantities when I’m upset,” Lucy grumbled, holding her tummy. “I don’t know, Wanda. It’s like he’s beyond my reach. He refuses to speak with me. He has shut down and shut me out. For good. I seriously don’t think he’s ever coming back.”

“Well, maybe Javier can shed some light on it. I invited him over.” Distressed, Lucy gripped the table’s edge. “Calm down. He’s not the enemy. Here he is now.” Wanda watched a car pull in her driveway. “I’ll let him in.”

Lucy dropped her head in her hands and groaned. She didn’t want to face Javier, Brogan’s best friend. They’d probably shared a good laugh over Lucy’s delusion about love, relationships, and marriage. And how Lucy never learned from her past mistakes. Was it her destiny to fall for the wrong guy every time?

“Talk to her before she goes into a diabetic coma,” Wanda said as they entered the kitchen. Lucy stared at Javier, followed by Margo and Wanda. Margo carried a container of scraps for Fiona.

“What the hoot? Who’s manning the store?”

“Hola,
Lucy.
C
ó
mo
est
á
s?”
Javier pulled out the chair next to Lucy and indicated for Margo to sit. Margo handed the scrap container to Wanda.

“Hey, Lucy. The store’s covered,” Margo said, worry creasing her face.

“About Brogan—” Javier started.

“
Don’t.
Don’t justify his actions to me.” At Javier’s confused expression, she added, “I know I’m a delusional idiot and thought we had…something good…great.” Lucy’s voice trailed off.

“Listen to me.” Margo shook Lucy’s shoulders, gaining her attention. “Brogan had an unexpected visitor on Saturday. His dad. And it wasn’t good. They argued in his office. I heard the whole thing.”

Lucy blinked, taking a minute to gauge Margo’s serious expression and Javier’s sympathetic one. “How did you hear everything?” Lucy would rather focus on the mundane than face the implications of what the meeting meant.

“I eavesdropped,” Margo said indignantly. “I wouldn’t be a proud member of the Harmony Busybody Grapevine if I hadn’t.”

Everyone around the table stared at Lucy with a mixture of pity and love. Lucy swallowed more tea just to give her hands something to do other than twirling her hair into corkscrews. Grateful to be surrounded by friends, she nodded for Margo to continue.

Margo regaled them with a tale that made Lucy shiver and the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Beginning with Brogan learning he had half siblings, to his dad being a bigamist, and ending with Brogan’s fit of rage as he took down an expensive display of vinegars with an apple.

“There’s nothing wrong with his throwing arm, I’ll tell you that.” Margo’s lips thinned. “Place still stinks all to be damned like vinegar.”

“Lucy, I probably know more about Brogan and his personal demons than anyone. It seems this time he confronted them literally and figuratively. I think meeting his dad on Saturday was some sort of breaking point. He finally got answers to questions that have plagued him his entire life.” Javier gave Lucy’s hand a squeeze.

“Okay…I get the whole horrible dad issue, and I even get running to hide and lick his wounds, but leaving a Dear Jane and then refusing to talk this out… How am I supposed to combat that? He says he wants to move on with his life, which doesn’t include me or Harmony.” Her shoulders slumped. “I really believe he’s never coming back.” Lucy met their concerned faces. “Ever.”

Silence hung over them like a large, ominous black cloud. Wanda boomed, scattering the cloud and the air. “That’s ridiculous. First of all, he still has to sell his house, and secondly, he needs to be here for BetterBites, but most importantly”—she paused for dramatic effect—“he’s going to come home for
you
.” She pointed a manicured nail at Lucy. Everyone nodded in solemn agreement, but Lucy wasn’t convinced. They hadn’t been rejected by an empty house, a pathetic note, and a silent cell phone.

“How do you propose we get him back?” Margo asked the group.

Javier fiddled with the plastic floral placemat on Wanda’s table. “We need to give him some time. He has to work this out on his own. I’ve seen him shut down for a few days, or a few months, depending on his state of mind. I think this hit him real hard.”

Months? She didn’t know if she could last that long without hunting him down and throwing herself at his feet, begging him to love her.

“Ha, my bootie patootie! I know a way to get him back,” Wanda responded to Lucy’s stricken expression.

“Uh, Wanda, this is one time your wonderbust won’t get the job done. Don’t get me wrong, Brogan would enjoy the show, but…I don’t know.”

“I do.” Wanda stood and adjusted the silver belt over her tight blue sundress. “I’ve got other weapons in my arsenal besides my fabulous bust.” Pride rang clear in her voice.

“You care to share it with the rest of us?” Lucy asked, clearly afraid of what Wanda might be plotting.

“Nope. You’re just going to have to trust me.”

And
the next two weeks went downhill from there.

* * *

By Friday, Lucy didn’t know if she had the flu, or if she couldn’t get out of bed because of her broken heart. Thirteen days had passed since she or anyone else had last seen or spoken with Brogan. Lucy managed to fix Parker’s breakfast and see that he caught the bus before she rushed to the bathroom to hurl her cookies. And yes, literally cookies…two boxes of Oreos she’d consumed the night before. Wanda arrived in time to hustle Lucy back to bed, promising that she’d take care of feeding Julia and pick Parker up from football practice. She left Lucy with a little ginger ale and some saltine crackers, and cleared the room of all her social media devices, including her cell phone, laptop, and iPad.

“You need your rest. Don’t worry. I’ll alert Dottie and Keith and your other accounts that you’re taking a sick day,” Wanda said as she tucked covers around Lucy.

“B-but what if he calls?” Wanda knew exactly who
he
was.

“You’ll be the first to know. Now get some sleep. You look like death warmed over.”

“Lovely,” Lucy mumbled before closing her tired eyes.

* * *

Wanda Pattershaw stood in the threshold of Lucy’s bedroom and watched her friend fall into a restless sleep. Wanda was no doctor, but she didn’t need an MD to diagnose what really ailed Lucy. And it wasn’t a broken heart, although that may be causing Lucy’s depression. Nope. Wanda knew like she knew her own bust size: Lucy was carrying a little Brogan bun in her oven. Wanda had never been pregnant, but she’d witnessed enough friends go through the ordeal and recognized the signs. Smiling, she thought of how happy Lucy and Brogan would finally be. She quietly closed the bedroom door and worked her way downstairs. Yes in-deedy. She couldn’t wait to be maid of honor. With Wanda in charge…she’d see that everything went according to plan…her plan.