Pucker Up (16 page)

Faith
looked at yesterday’s clothes sitting on the end of her bed.  They’d seen her
through an interesting day.  Of course to be fair, everything about this trip
had been interesting.  Nothing at all like she’d expected.  Then again what
she’d expected – empty house, awkward small talk, innocent delivery – was
completely ridiculous.  And probably all just a lie she told herself to get in
the car.

The
door opened behind her, and she turned as Dustin entered.  “You didn’t knock,”
she said.

“My
house,” he answered.  He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her up
against him, his lips brushing against her ear.  “Why are you worried?  You got
something else to hide?”

She
cringed at his words, knowing she did.  The divorce papers couldn’t stay in her
purse forever.  “How much more do you want to see?” she deflected.

“Not
sure how much more I can handle.”  He leaned his forehead against the top of
her head and took a deep breath.  He exhaled on a shudder, but she didn’t
wonder why – the scent of lemons still clung to her skin.  “I brought you some
more clothes.”

She
pulled away to look at him.  “What do you take me for?  A celebrity who needs
to wear a different outfit every day?”

He
returned her teasing grin.  “We treat our guests like royalty around here.”

Faith
stared at the things he tossed on the bed.  They were very familiar.  She
stepped out of his embrace and reached for them.  “These are my clothes,” she
whispered, fingering the fabrics.

“They
are.  Practically vintage now.”

“You
kept them.”

“I
kept everything.” 

Like
her heart, Faith thought.  Had he made space for that in his closet, too?

“Let
me know if you need something else.”

“Where
are you going?”

Dustin
grinned.  “To go lay under a car and find out why it doesn’t want to leave.” 

“Maybe
it’s in love with the tree,” Faith mused.

“Wouldn’t
be the first time.”

He
walked out the door, and she collapsed on the end of the bed, drawing the
clothes into her lap.  She never would have thought he was this sentimental. 
Then again, she hadn’t thought he cared enough to want her to stay.  She’d
underestimated him a decade ago and every day since.

She
dressed and made her way downstairs.  Harmony smiled at her from the kitchen. 
“Want to help?”

“With
what?”  Faith looked skeptical.  “I’m pretty much a disaster in the kitchen.” 

“I’m
getting lunch ready.  Chicken salad sandwiches, fruit salad, and chocolate chip
cookies.  How are you with a knife?”

Faith
held up her bandaged finger.  “Already have one battle wound from it.”

“Well
then, you’ve already learned what
not
to do – you’re halfway there.”

“You’re
easily impressed,” Faith said with a grin.  “I will attempt to chop fruit and
leave all limbs attached.”  Harmony handed her a flannel apron and positioned
her in front of a cutting board.  “Did Peter teach you how to cook?”

Harmony
laughed.  “Now you’re easily impressed; this barely qualifies as cooking.  Dad
has perfected exactly three things – chocolate raspberry French toast, coffee
cake, and hash.  Just enough to get by when Uncle Dust has to go in early.  No,
Uncle Dust taught me.  He’s awesome in the kitchen.”

“Really?” 
Faith was impressed even though she’d already seen his tart skills.  When they
were together, they were both hopeless in the kitchen.  Apparently she was the
only one that stayed that way.

“Oh
yeah.  That dinner the first night was all him.  We have an herb garden and a
vegetable garden out back.  He makes amazing gnocchi in brown butter.  Oh and
the best lemon curd ever, by far.”

“Lemon
curd?”

“Yeah,
you use it to make lemon meringue pies,” Harmony said as she slipped a pan of
cookies in the oven.  “Dad thinks Uncle Dust taught me and Mel how to cook so
he wouldn’t have to admit he makes the best pies in the county.  Seriously, he
won a blue ribbon at the fair once.

“And
we make lemon bars with it, ricotta pancakes, ice cream.  Tastes good with
berries or oatmeal, so we eat it a lot for breakfast, too.  And it’s weird
because Uncle Dust doesn’t ever eat it, but he is always making it.”  Faith
understood that.  His own version of branding – even with the tree right
outside the window, he needed to feel it closer.  Maybe they were more alike
than she thought.

“Sounds
delicious,” she murmured, not looking up from the fruit she was slicing.  “I
love anything with lemons.”

“I
guessed that.  You do smell like lemons after all.”  Harmony took something out
of the freezer and placed it next to Faith.  “Can I ask you a question?”

Faith
glanced at the mason jar and raised an eyebrow at the teenager.  “Why do I feel
like this is a bribe?”

“Whatever
do you mean?” Harmony asked.  But her eyes sparkled with impish delight.

“Uh
huh.”  Faith ran a finger around the lip of the jar, ice radiating through
her.  “Ask, and then I’ll decide if I’m going to answer.”

“I’m
not going to extort your bank password or anything.  I just want to know why
Uncle Dust calls you Ally.”

“Oh,
is that all?”  Faith looked up and saw the confusion on Harmony’s face; she had
caught the sarcasm.

“I
didn’t realize it was a touchy subject.  I’m sorry.”  The teenager looked away,
and Faith sighed in frustration.  She used to love the story of how they met – until
her friend made it into a TV movie.  The characters there got a happy ending;
real life was far less lucky, cameras continuing to roll, no fade to black. 
Now it felt like it wasn’t hers anymore.

Which
then inspired the Andy Peters song
Paper Trains.
 About a girl trying to
ride off into the sunset, never realizing her expectations were about as
realistic as paper trains. 
Paper Trains
, of course, ending up on the
score of that very same movie back before anyone cared about the secretive
songwriter.  How much more meta could one life be?

“Ally
was the alias I was using when I met him and your dad.  Unless you want people knowing
where to find you, you don’t use your own name.  And I wasn’t looking for
anyone to find me.  Except then your uncle did.”  Faith shook her head, trying
to dispel the poetry of that thought, and returned to slicing pears.  “So
Dustin calls me Ally, and Peter calls me East, and none of them are my actual
name.  I’m a nickname nomad.”

“Andrews
men don’t call anyone by their names.  Uncle Dust calls me Harm, ‘cause he says
I’m always causing trouble, and Dad calls me Peaches.”  The timer went off, and
Harmony turned to pull the cookies out of the oven.  “Nicknames don’t mean you
don’t belong, they mean you do.”

Faith
stopped slicing and put the knife down; her hands practically burned for a
guitar.  What was it about this house and all the people in it that wanted her
to remember, to feel.  To persevere.

“How
did you meet them? The Andrews twins.”

“I
was on vacation at the Sorrento Ranch, and they worked there.”

“Yeah,
they did!  Gosh, I love that place, don’t you?  It’s so pretty and peaceful,
and Bea is awesome.  Do you know her?”

Faith
grinned.  “Yeah, I know her.”  That meddling headstrong woman was the reason
there was a lemon tree in the first place.  Tasked two bickering teenagers with
a project and bloomed love along with lemons.  It was a precious idea – made a
good movie plot, too.

Faith
glanced out the kitchen window and saw another foreign car pull down the
driveway, kicking a cloud of dust into the air.  Dustin slid out from under her
car and wiped grease from his hands as it passed him by and pulled up to the
front porch.  A tall man in designer sunglasses and an impeccably tailored suit
got out and scanned the property.  Shit.

“Can
I help you?” Dustin called as he made his way over, studying the new arrival as
he approached.

“Yes,
thank you.  I’m looking for the owner of that car you were just under.”

“Who
wants to know?” 

“Jackson
Shaw.”  He held out his hand, not sheepish of the mess of Dustin’s, and they
shook.  “And you are?”

“Dustin
Andrews.  I own this place.”

“Nice
to meet you Dustin, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Really?
And—”  The loud thwack of the front door caused both men to turn, Faith exiting
the house with Harmony not far behind.

“Jackson,
what are you doing here?” Faith asked, coming down the steps towards them.

“I’m
looking for you.”  He smiled but Faith was so shocked she couldn’t.

“Excuse
us.  Jackson, with me.”  She didn’t wait to see if he was following her, just
walked away from them towards the gazebo.  She rounded on him when they
arrived.  “What are you doing here?”

“What
do you think I’m doing here?  You told me if I hadn’t heard from you in
twenty-four hours to come and get you.  I waited forty-eight.”

“I
was kidding.”

“Were
you?” he questioned.  He took off his sunglasses and peered at her intently. 
“You look different.”

“Different
how?”

“Just
different.  Why was he working on your car?  Did it break down?”

“Yes.”

Jackson
was quiet for a long moment, an accessing stare on his face.  “What hotel are
you registered at?”  She gave him a patronizing look but couldn’t stop
fidgeting.  “So either he is the most accommodating man I’ve ever met, or you
did not give him the divorce papers.”

“I
couldn’t do it,” she mumbled at the floor.

“What?”

“I
couldn’t do it,” she repeated, meeting his eyes, conviction in her voice.  “I
thought I could; the whole drive up here I thought I could.  But the minute I
got here, I realized I was completely kidding myself.  I can’t have that
conversation with him.  I just, I just can’t.”

“So
what’s the plan?  We leave, and you send me back out here with the papers next
week?”

Faith
ran her hands through her hair and sat down on the step.  “I didn’t think that
far ahead.  I thought maybe I’d just leave them in his office and hope he found
them.”

Jackson
sighed and sat beside her.  “Hoping things would work themselves out is what
got you into this mess in the first place.”

“I
know.”

“I
never wanted you to come out here yourself.  I advised against it for just this
reason.”

“I
know that, too.”  But Faith couldn’t be mad about her decision.  She’d needed
to see him one more time.  A decade of needing closure had led her to this
spot.  She glanced towards the house and saw Dustin, Peter, and Harmony on the
front porch, watching them.  Was it closure that she got, or was it something
else?

“Are
you ready to listen to me?”

Faith
sighed and met his eyes, unsure if she was ready to put this all behind her. 
“Yes, I suppose I am.”

Jackson
stood and pulled out his phone.  “All right.  I’m going to call a tow in for
your car.  You take mine, I’ll get a car service for me, and then when you’re
on the road, I’m going to serve him with the papers.” 

Faith
watched him; his direct, no nonsense tone, his encouraging smile, his kind
eyes.  Jackson was the kind of guy you wanted on your side.  Why hadn’t he ever
been the kind of guy she wanted in her heart?  Her eyes flashed to Dustin. 
Because, for better or for worse, that spot had been taken a long time ago, and
damn, she had no idea how to evict him.  She’d leave that to Jackson now.

She
stood, steeling herself for what came next. “Hey,” he said, moving the phone
away from his ear, “you okay?”

She
nodded her head and offered him a halfhearted smile she feared wasn’t at all
convincing.  “Of course.  Why wouldn’t I be?”  She squeezed Jackson’s arm, and
he returned it, the fingers of his free hand comforting, just as they had been
when he’d first dropped this bombshell.  A deep breath, for strength, and she
started towards the house.  The final verse of the song.  She’d never been very
good at those.

“What
do you think’s going on?”

“He’s
a lawyer,” Harmony said.

“How
would you know that?” Dustin asked.

She
held up her phone.  “Googled him.  President and founder of Magpie
Entertainment Law and Management.  MELM.”  She stared off towards the gazebo. 
“Does Faith sing that song about magpies?”

“No,
that’s not her,” Peter mumbled.

Harmony
shrugged.  “They do look friendly.  And he’s cute.”

Dustin
cursed and Harmony sent him a knowing grin.  “Back in the house,” Peter
ordered.  She didn’t even try to argue, but he heard her phone the minute she
entered.  Conspiring with her sister already, he was sure of it.

“What
do you think’s going on?” Dustin asked again.