Brisé (15 page)

I rush past Brett and make my way to the side exit, desperately needing fresh air, I need this overwhelming feeling to disappear. I push open the door and make a left turn. I look to my right and stop all movement. That caramel hair, that walk, his stature . . . it is all how I remember it. He was here, he watched me dance, and never came to find me. I watch as he walks out the doors, out of my life the way I did to him, but I never made a step to stop him. Brett comes up behind me, “Pheebs, you look like you saw a ghost.”

“No, just Luke,” I manage to say before I bolt for the exit. He follows closely behind me. Part one of my
self-imposed
therapy was telling him everything. Of course, his advice was for me to call Luke a year ago, let him know where my head was at that time in the hospital, and see if we had a chance. My reaction was to ignore his advice. I still wasn’t ready. Cowardly of me, I know, but I was still too fragile, things were still too much. I don’t expect to see him and fall back in his arms. He has to be bitter, which is warranted. I still have residual anger, which is unresolved in my heart, and I don’t know how to breach that impasse between my head and my heart.

“He came to see you dance?” I shrug my shoulders because I don’t know why he came. “Was she with him?” I hate when he brings up Katie . . . I have replayed the words ‘dashing duo’ in my head enough.

The silence continues to hang around us, and I break it. “I’m good. I knew he was here.”

“He told you? Have you been holding out on me?”

“No. I just always know when he’s near. I can feel it.” He gives me his eyes, and the display of pity is almost my undoing. I shake my head at him, begging him to stop. Reaching out he grabs my hand, pulls me to his chest, and lets me cry against him. “He didn’t even wait around to see me.” Brett has no response for me; we both know actions speak louder than words. Luke wasn’t here to see me, to talk to me, but I don’t know why the hell he was here. Before I can get lost in the despair, I wipe my eyes and shove my emotions down. It’s a bad habit, one I was trying to break, but I wasn’t prepared for tonight. I realize now, I won’t ever be ready for the feelings he evokes in me. I was good when he was there, protecting me and supporting me, but when he is walking away from me, I can’t handle them. Irony hits me full force, this must be how he felt. I had a purpose when I left. I had cancer to defeat, and a dream to achieve. He had nothing, but a town full of memories and a heart full of love with nobody to give it to.
I am so sorry, Luke
. I hope he knows that, and maybe one day I’ll get a chance to tell him.

Getting through the last few performances became a chore, and I wasn’t at my best. When I suggested to Claude that he let my understudy take over sooner than expected he all but jumped at the chance. Saying goodbye to Brett and James a mere two days after seeing Luke is almost too much. It almost feels like that day I left my hometown. Too many farewells in my life. At least this time it isn’t forever. I know they’ll come visit even if they don’t relocate. I let Myra know last night I would arrive today and made the decision not to stay at my house. I’m not ready to come face to face with the walls that hold such fond memories, but also the last memories with every important person in my life I’ve lost. There is a small space attached to the studio that can be converted to a living space, so I can stay in a hotel for a few weeks. Myra offered his house, and I quickly declined. Never being very close to him until my parents’ death, it just wasn’t a comfortable situation for me. He said he would get construction started right away, and there isn’t much to do; put up a few dividing walls, check the electricity, and furnish it.

I’m drained from my flight, and immediately crash on the bed as soon as I walk in the room. When I wake up, it’s close to dinnertime so I order room service, check in with Brett, and go back to sleep. I feel refreshed this morning as I take in the pale walls of the hotel room and decide I need some color in my life, so my first stop will be Momma Nichols. I cut her out of my life when I left; it was a selfish move, and I regret it. I just hope she can forgive me. I may have lost my mom, her son, and our baby, but she lost her best friend, grandchild, and her son along the way because I am sure I didn’t leave him in one piece. All I can do is grovel for forgiveness and hope she welcomes me back in to her life.

Hesitantly, I bring my hand up to knock on the front door. It feels weird to do so, this was my second home, and we never had formalities like knocking on the door. It flies open before the second wrap of my knuckles, like she’s expecting someone, but by the look on her face, it wasn’t me. “Phoebe,” she whispers. “Oh, my girl, come here.” I feel her grasp my arms as she pulls me towards her, and once she embraces me, a wave of relief passes through my body. I wrap my arms around her, and I can feel her body shake as she cries. I give her this moment, knowing how she feels. I pull back and give her a weak smile. I’m unsure … is she really happy to see me or was that a knee jerk reaction from me being like a daughter to her for so long?

“Hey, Mrs. Nichols.”

“Child, when did Mrs. replace Momma? I can still tan your hide. Now get in here and tell me where you’ve been.” It feels like I never left, but at the same time like I’ve been gone forever. The house is exactly like I remembered, but along the dining room wall, boxes are stacked and suitcases next to it. She notices me looking, “Mr. Nichols and I are going on a vacation. A long overdue vacation, and I’m preparing.”

“Where are you going?”

“All over. A cruise in the Bahamas, two weeks in Paris, and then driving to the mountains for a month. Six whole weeks together, one of us may not come back alive.” I smile at her casual demeanor, and it’s easy to see how excited she is. Examining the boxes, I can tell she’s been online shopping . . . a lot. “So fill me in. Help yourself to what you want, you know where everything is.”

“I’m sorry, Momma Nichols.” I can’t keep it in. I need her to know I am remorseful and that I did miss her.

“For what Phoebe?”

“Running. Leaving you, leaving home, but most of all for the way I treated the only family I have left.”

“There’s a lot I could say to you about your choices, but you have to live with them. I understand, in a way, why you did what you did at first. I don’t know why you stayed away for so long, or why it was all so secret. We love you like our own and would’ve done our best to respect what you wanted. It’s been four years, you are almost twenty-two years old, so you don’t owe me an apology. Now tell me where you’ve been.” I can read between the lines, I may not owe her an apology but I owe her son one.

“Mainly New York. I danced after going through chemo.” She raises her eyebrows at me, and I know she isn’t happy I did that alone. “I beat it again, it was hard, but I persevered. I danced, just like my mom wanted.” I let her take that in and see the tears welling in her eyes.

“She would have loved that.”

“I know. She saw me, and I know she was smiling down at me. I traveled a little, too, different states; Arizona, California, Minnesota, wherever we had a performance, but we were based out of New York.”

“You’ve been there the whole time?”

“I know that’s where he is, and no, I never saw him,” I lie to her. I don’t want to tell her about my performance.

“You home for good?”

“Yes, I am converting the extra space in the studio to an apartment, and I am going to start teaching.”

“What’s wrong with the house?”

“I’m just not ready.”

“You are. You just can’t admit that to yourself. That’s your home, Phoebe. We are only given one life, you have been given more chances than most . . . don’t throw it away because of your fears.”

“I do love him, you know.”

“Love is a verb, Phoebe, not a noun. You need to show that action, not spout if off so easily. For one syllable, that’s a powerful word, one that has the power to make you or break you. I have seen it do both with each of you.” I don’t have a rebuttal to that. After a few moments of silence, she starts filling me in on the comings and goings of the town. It’s time for me to go, and she reminds me, “I’m always here for you, no matter what; but you need to accept what you did and move on from it. You can make amends, but it’s your future actions that will prove what your intentions are. Don’t make me miss you again, please.” I give her a hug with a promise that won’t happen.

“When do you leave?”

“In two days. Mr. Nichols is closing a deal tomorrow, and his replacement will be here sometime next week. When we get back, don’t be a stranger.”

“Never again.” I feel lighter as I make my way back to the hotel. It will take some maneuvering around sensitive subjects, but I have two very important people back in my life, and with them I feel a bit more grounded . . . to life, to my parents, and to Luke.

I make a detour to see how the construction is going and if there is an estimated time frame. I walk in to sawdust, drywall, and the stench of hard working males. One stands out and as the smile spreads across his face, I know he hasn’t forgotten me. “Hey, Phoebe. Long time no see.”

“Hey Drake. Surprised to see you here.”

“It’s my brother’s business. I work for him occasionally. I thought this was your mom’s place. Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s my place now, and this will be my apartment.”

“You aren’t living in your house?”

“Have you been under a rock? I haven’t been home for four years.”

“I haven’t been around for about three. Got caught selling.” He seems ashamed.

“Hope you learned your lesson.” He just nods at me. “Any idea on how much longer?”

“Probably another day. I’m putting the floors in when we are done with all the construction.”

“Can I paint before you do that? I need color in my life.” I don’t know why I just told him that.

“I’ll help you paint and let you throw me off schedule if you agree to one thing.”

“What?”

“Dinner with me. We got kind of cheated in high school.”

I laugh out loud at him. “Cheated? You did do that well.” I pause because that wasn’t fair. “I’m sorry, Drake. You may have been a cheater but we weren’t really ever exclusive, we were fill-ins for each other.”

“Ouch.” He gives me his grin, and I feel my resolve weakening. He was always a charmer and a lot of fun. I could use a friend in town.

“Okay, dinner.”

“Tomorrow night?”

“Getting pushy there aren’t you, Drake?” He just shakes his head at me. “Okay, I’m staying at the hotel on Fillmore Street, the Holiday Inn. Meet me out front at seven.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Now get back to work,” I tease him. I look back to see his devious shit-eating grin and his eyes checking out my ass. This is either going to be fun or trouble. I remember Luke’s warning about him all those years ago, but I shake it off. Drake seems remorseful for his actions; doesn’t everyone deserve the benefit of the doubt? A leopard can change his spots … right?

Chapter 19

Luke

After leaving New York, I’ve taken my time driving back home. Not that I don’t miss being there, I just have a lot to sort out in my mind, so I drove to Annapolis the first night. The next day I spent touring the predominantly military town, walking along the brick sidewalks, looking at the old architecture of the buildings that make this town so rich in culture. I could almost imagine myself sitting on one of the benches by the water, strumming my guitar, getting lost for a while. That pipe dream will have to wait; I have to be home shortly because my parents are leaving tomorrow. The phone call with my mom was odd this morning, she seemed like a giddy schoolgirl, and I wrack my brain trying to remember the last time they took a vacation. Shit, they just went to New Orleans last year, so I don’t know what’s gotten into her. My dad assured me he tied up all closings and there’s nothing that needs immediate attention so I will be fine for another week. I plan to take every bit of it.

I’m in Charlotte, North Carolina now and enjoying the low-key life. I love the Carolinas and could see myself having a second home here. First, I need to figure out where my first home will be. Just having turned twenty-five, I don’t want to live at my childhood home. It would be fine for now while my parents are gone, but I need to be settled. I need to find my home, and it doesn’t have to be in my hometown. Since I will only be working for my dad occasionally, I can always commute as needed. Spurring a decision with that revelation, I call a real estate agent and arrange to look at condos and townhomes the next day. I make my way to Morrisville and tour some NASCAR shops, really living the tourist life.

The first five homes, Becky, my realtor, showed me were not what I envisioned. They were modern, roomy, but very stifling. Becky is quickly becoming frustrated with my lack of commitment to anything we have toured, and I feel for her. I remember the countless hours I had shown homes, met every specification the client wanted, and in the end nothing satisfied them.

“Sorry Becky. I feel like I’m wasting your time. I don’t know exactly what they’re lacking, but they just aren’t for me.”

“What do you envision when you walk in your door?” I ponder that question for a while. I haven’t been in the habit of anticipation for quite some time. I usually go into each day knowing there will be a beginning and an end, but I fill the in-between with work.

“Bright, welcoming . . . someplace that feels like home.”