The Calendar of New Beginnings (37 page)

Last night, Lucy had begrudgingly admitted Ellen might not be completely wrong, or her completely right. Common ground had been forged on lesser things.

When Andy knocked on the front door, Harry opened it.

“Oh, hi,” he said awkwardly.

“Lunch break?” Harry asked, clapping Andy on the forearm in solidarity when he nodded. “Ellie’s in the backyard. Good luck. I’ve gotten nowhere with her.”

His gut urging turned into an upset stomach. “That sounds ominous.”

Harry made a fist in the air. “That woman. I love her, but I swear sometimes… How’s my girl?”

Andy hadn’t expected that question. Heck, he hadn’t expected Harry to be home. “She’s upset too. Wishes things were different.”

“When Lucy was growing up, I was the sole peacekeeper in the house,” Harry said, making a face. “It’s nice to have help.”

Yeah, that was him. Peacekeeper Andy. Part of him wished he’d worn a suit of armor or something. Ellen was going to blast into him. And knowing Lucy, she wouldn’t be all that happy to hear he’d come here.
 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Andy said, coming inside when Harry stepped out of the way.

“I’m heading to my bar. If you need a drink afterwards, there will be one waiting for you.”

“That’s kind of you, but I have to get back to the hospital.”

Lucy’s father grabbed a jacket from the hall closet. “After, then.”

“I’m going to spend some time with Danny.” He’d texted his mother a picture of himself making a funny face, wanting to make Danny laugh before he left for school. “My mom babysat last night so I could talk to Lucy.” There was no way he was mentioning he’d spent the night with her.

“April was here this morning after dropping Danny off at school, so I know the score,” Harry said, picking up his wallet and keys from the wooden bowl in the hall table. “Ellie didn’t listen to your mom either.”

Terrific. Harry and his mom were batting zero with Ellen. How was he supposed to do better? “It’s about more than the calendar.”

Harry’s mouth twisted. “Always has been. Well, your next drink in my bar is on me, and if you get my girls to reconcile, you have a free pass on anything I serve for a year.” With that, Lucy’s dad left.

Andy felt a little weird walking through the house on his own, but when he opened the patio doors, that weird feeling morphed into red-hot embarrassment. “Sorry, Mrs. O’Brien!” he cried out the moment he saw Ellen—all of Ellen—in the bubbling hot tub. He was so shocked he’d reverted to calling her Mrs. O’Brien like he was twelve. “Harry didn’t mention you were…ah….”
Sweet Jesus, put me down right now.

“Good heavens, Andy Hale!” Lucy’s mom called back. “You’d think you’ve never seen a naked woman in a hot tub before. Besides it’s not like you can see anything anyway.”

If that’s what she thought, she’d never seen her cleavage. He was going to have to wash his eyes out with soap or something.
 

“I’ll just wait inside for you,” he said, bumping into the patio doors.

“No need,” she called out. “You can talk to me here. If it bothers you so much, don’t look.”

Right. That was a good suggestion. “I’m just going to turn around now.” And stare at the wall.

“You’d think you wouldn’t be so embarrassed. One, you’re a doctor. Two, you’re sleeping with my daughter.
This
is what you have to look forward to.”

Not in a million years was he going to go down that track. “Could we please talk about why I’m here?” he asked. Okay, pleaded.

“Dammit, I look good for my age!” Ellen railed on, confirming that she was more than riled up.

“I’m sure you do,” Andy said to placate her. “I’m here about Lucy. I wanted to show you a picture she took of me after she arrived.”

“Well,” she barked out. “Come over here and show me.”

His insides shriveled. He’d have to get closer to the hot tub. “Ah…could you please meet me inside to talk about this? I…don’t want to drop my phone in the water.” There. Genius.

“I’ll bend over the edge and put my hands out,” she responded. “Don’t be bashful, Hale. It's nothing you haven’t seen before.”

Why did people always say that? He had a license to practice medicine—not ogle naked people.

“Mrs. O’Brien, I’m really going to have to insist you put on a towel or robe.” He was going to hold his ground.

There was a grand huff behind him. “You really are a prudish man, aren’t you? I hope Lucy knows about this. Given how strong she is in her opinions, it might concern her that you’re uncomfortable looking at naked people.”

There was a small boulder in the garden to his right, and he had the sudden urge to bash his head against it. Was this what Lucy had to deal with? No wonder she’d lost her cool. Maybe he should just go.

“All right,” she called out. “I’m decent.”

He turned around, eyes half mast in case she was lying. She was wearing a short red kimono that skimmed her knees. He’d call it progress.

“Well! Are you coming over here or not? I’m growing cold here. I’m wet in some places.”

“Coming.” Anything to escape from this lamebrain conversation. Matt was going to laugh himself silly when he told him about it.
 

“I know you and Lucy have your opinions about things,” he said, “and I’m not here to get into that.” He’d grown up with three sisters, so he knew better. “But I wanted to show you this picture and tell you what it did for me.”

She grabbed her purple reading glasses from the picnic table. “Better not be one of those boudoir photos.” Then she barked out a laugh. “Not that I could imagine you posing for one after all your fussing about seeing me in the hot tub.”

He was so not going to mention the mind-blowing sex he’d had with her daughter last night. Three times. But he was tempted. God, she brought out the devil in him. “No, it’s this one.”

After drawing out his phone, he punched in his code and brought the photo up on screen. She peered closer before taking it from him.

“You look sad!” Ellen declared, thrusting it back at him. “And no wonder. I swear, I don’t think my kid can take anything but sad photos of people. In fact, I’ve concluded after talking to her yesterday that she’s flat-out lost her funny bone. And I’m sad for her. Laughter is what makes life worth living.”

Andy wanted to shove his phone in his pocket and storm out. But he loved Lucy enough to stay and defend her. “Your daughter is one of the funniest women I know. She can laugh in the face of life’s conflict and suffering in a way you rarely see in people, and I cherish her because of it.”

Her brows rose all the way to her hairline. “You’re really in love with her, aren’t you?”

“You’re darn right I am,” he said, his voice rising. “Lucy hasn’t lost her funny bone, and I’m sorry you two can’t set aside your differences enough to see each other. This photo she took captured my face when I was thinking about Kim.”

“That’s twisted,” Ellen said, frowning. “You’re dating!”

“It’s not twisted,” Andy said, his breath coming out hard now. “Your daughter has no problem letting me talk about Kim or how much I’ve missed her or how much I loved her. She never stops me from feeling what I feel.”

Ellen’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “Are you saying I don’t?”

He pulled himself back from that argument. “I’m saying that when I saw this picture of myself, I understood what my son must see when I talk about his mother. It made me sad to see it at first.”

“That’s my point!” Ellen said, thrusting her hand into the air in frustration. “No one needs those reminders. The past is the past, and dredging it up is a mistake.”

“It’s not a mistake. This picture helped change my mind about that. Sure, it captured my loss, but it also captured the love I had for Kim.”

She looked about ready to smack him upside the head. “Of course it did, you numbskull. Kim was your wife.”

He was bungling it. “You’re not hearing me. This picture captured the love I still have for her—even though she’s gone—and that’s…well, that’s a beautiful thing to remember. For me and my son.” So much emotion was coursing through him, he had to take some deep breaths to steady himself.
 

“I still don’t understand you. Did you need reminding that you still love Kim? Were you feeling guilty about being with Lucy?”

“This was before I started dating Lucy, but that’s not the point,” he said, pushing the phone under her nose. “This photo showed me I’m living with the love
and
the loss. This is what Lucy has captured for Jill and Rhett and Old Man Jenkins. She is capturing that life goes on, yes, but we still love them and miss them and wear silly costumes to commemorate them.”

Ellen stared at him and then slid her glasses down her nose. “You know. I think you’re as half-cocked as she is.”

That did it. “Then you don’t know your daughter for who she really is. If you could see her the way I do, you’d know she is one of the most amazing, powerful, loving women on the planet. I thought medicine was tough, but Lucy makes that look like baking a cake. And if you knew how hard this calendar is for her and everything she’s gone through to make it happen…”

He broke off, horrified. Ellen grabbed him by the forearm, and for an older lady, she had the grip of wrestling champion.

“What in the world do you mean by that?” she barked out.

He was dead meat. “Nothing. Trying to compromise her vision to work with you has been hard on her.”

“Bullshit!” Ellen cried, tightening her grip. “You know the whole story about why she’s back, don’t you? Of course you do! You were always thick as thieves and now you’re doing the horizontal mambo.”

So that was where Lucy had gotten the term. “I do love your daughter. Maybe she’s right about you two not being able to see eye to eye. I’m going to go. I did what I came to do. What you decide to do is up to you. All I know is that you have a wonderful daughter who’s back in Dare Valley. It would be sad if you miss your chance to get to know the woman she’s become.”

She started to sputter, and so he left.

Then he heard the footsteps running behind him. Dear God, was Mrs. O’Brien chasing him through her house in a kimono? He increased his pace.

When he reached the sidewalk, he didn’t slow down.

“You’re wrong, Andy Hale!” she shouted behind him. “I
love
my daughter.”

As he locked himself in his car, he shook his head. Funny. He’d never mentioned her not loving Lucy.
 

Only not knowing her.

Chapter 28      

Lucy was still a little shaken when she finished class. Today, she and her students had ventured to the planetarium to take photos under pressure. Each had taken a turn, but she’d stood in the theater the whole time, her arms crossed over her chest to help quell the inner anxiety she felt from the blaring sounds of battle from the film footage. This was another wound she’d suffered in that village—another hurt that didn’t show.

A couple students had dropped their phones. A few more promising students had stayed calm in the face of all the noise and gore, pointing and shooting with efficiency. Lucy had been impressed with their composure. She couldn’t wait to grade this next round of photos once they touched them up.

When she pulled into her driveway, she frowned. Her mother was sitting on a worn bench in what used to be a garden before Mrs. Weidman got too old to tend to it.

She’d expected there to be another face-off, but she hadn’t expected one this soon. Frankly, she wasn’t up for it.

Exiting the car as her mother stood and started walking toward her, Lucy said, “I just got home from class. Can we chat another time?”

“No,” her mother said in a harsh tone. “We cannot. Not when I have Andy Hale taking me to task for not knowing or loving my daughter. Not when he knows the real reason you’re home, and I don’t.”

Her breathing shattered. Andy had visited her mother?
 

Crap. Of course he had. He was a fixer. Fiery rage flashed through her. He
knew
she didn’t want him to interfere in her life. Well, she would deal with him later. Right now she had to figure out a way to appease her mother.

“Look. I didn’t know he was going to see you. If I’d known, I would have talked him out of it.”

Her mother’s face was pinched tight with tension. “Do you have any idea how hard I try to understand you?”

That stopped her in her tracks. “How hard you try?”

“Don’t belittle me,” her mother scolded. “Since you were little, you were different than any other kid I knew. Do you have any idea how hard it was to be a mother to a child like that?”

Her words were a hard slap to the face. “So it’s my fault for being different?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” her mother said, clutching her hands together. “I’m trying to tell you that I didn’t know how to be a mother to a girl like you. You never liked the same things I did. When you were in high school, all you wanted to do was go to school, hang out with Arthur Hale, or rail about human rights issues in places I didn’t know anything about. Not once did you ever want to go shopping or get your nails done. Not like other girls.”