The Blue Iris, page 28
Tessa left them play-wrestling, pulling the door closed behind her as she stepped into hallway and felt her stomach dip.
With that, it was down to her and Luke.
Catchfly / Viscaria Oculata
“Dance with me?”
CHARLIE
September crept in hot and cloudless and summer-brilliant overnight. Sunshine blasted past the open curtains, seizing Charlie with panic. She tunneled under the covers, her fingers closing over Sam’s arm, his bare chest, the achingly familiar curve of his ear.
“You’re really here,” she managed, her vocal cords still raw.
She’d spent most of yesterday screaming. Then, the wee hours of today using no words as Charlie grew reacquainted with the man she’d loved more than half her life. The man who made her curse the gardenia-scented morning they met, and ugly-laugh herself breathless. And also, an entirely new man. One who called time to check in with his sponsor and pray beside her bed. A man with rules and hard limits, which seemed, ironically, to unchain him; no booze, no drugs, not even a lotto ticket. Not ever.
Charlie would be stupid if not skeptical, but they had to at least try, didn’t they? Clearly, the only way out was through. Groggily, he pulled her to him. As always, he smelled like fireflies and woodsmoke. She settled against his chest and let her eyes fall closed again, permitting her thoughts to drift two doors away to the Lodge. “I hope it’s all going according to plan over there.”
Sam opened one eye. The skin around it had creases now, a few new spots, but the same schoolyard mischief teemed. He peered down at her. “Would that be their plan, or yours?”
Charlie pinched his nipple between her teeth until he howled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Sam chuckled. “Okay, Spider. But trust fund or not, my money’s on Lukey-boy.”
Charlie frowned. “What if he’s not back to fighting weight?”
“You still think it’s too soon?”
All summer, Charlie had watched flirty banter evolve into easy contentment as the hot sun and high pressure melded Luke and Tessa into left and right hands of one being. But Luke had been so low, so scary low, for so long. This must be how it felt watching your kid zip around one of those sadistic skate parks, determined to break himself in two.
Watching Luke try to process the news that Tessa had been taken to hospital was like replaying the moment Darryl told her Sam was gone. Everything inside him clawed to the surface, trying to get to her, and then it hit him; he couldn’t. The shop pulled its own in so fast and close, it never occurred to anybody to swap numbers or handles.
Charlie stood behind the counter wringing her hands for an hour afterwards. Oh, fuck it. She wrapped a brick of floral foam in banana leaves and fit it into a glass square the perfect width for a nightstand. She stuffed in sweet pea blossoms delicate as duckling fluff, anemones you had to touch to prove they weren’t paper, lily of the valley like faeries in chapel. Because two things could be true at once.
Because Charlie of all people knew too well the sorts of spells a little loose earth could shake free.
She waited, pen in hand, as Rowan went through his personnel file, scribbling Tessa’s address on a corner of newspaper when he recited it to the courier. Then, she marched to the laneway and slipped her sweet, surrogate boy the permission he so obviously needed.
What business was it of Charlie’s to decide when Luke was ready? Were any of us ever truly ready, anyway? Seeing him crushed again would be unbearable, but not nearly as much as watching him spend the next thirty years wondering.
Sam looked at her, still waiting for an answer. She swirled her fingers through his chest hair and sighed. “I think, if there’s peonies, there’s peonies.”
He laughed, easing back on top of her. His purple-blue eyes held a clear view for miles, and it stole Charlie’s breath away. He lowered his mouth to hers. “Good old Martha Lavery . . .”
Mountain Ash / Sorbus Americana
“With me you are safe.”
TESSA
Tessa pulled herself to sitting, head like wet paper mâché, and squinted into the day. The screened porch was empty.
Out here last night, he was a flaring orange dot in the dark. The air was body temperature, undetectable against her skin. Luke offered a drag, but she didn’t want it, nor the Jameson anymore. Her thoughts were speeding like a race car; she needed to feel every rumble and shudder to keep from flipping over completely.
He stubbed out the cigarette. “I’ve smoked more this summer than in my whole life.”
“Me too. You really stress me out, Dunn.”
His laugh rolled like thunder.
“Any word from the others?”
Luke shook his head. Sam’s arrest warrant for disappearing while on probation was still active; no one was sure what happened next. “Darryl was over here wearing tracks in the floor before you came, then decided to barge in on them. Guess he’s still there.”
“You’re being so chill. Aren’t you dying to find out what’s happening?”
Even in the dark, his expression was unmistakeable. “I know how to wait my turn.”
“So. Olivia Thornton . . . you were making big moves. How come you didn’t say anything?”
“I wasn’t sure she’d come through, or if Tony could really get Eleanor on board. Then I thought, maybe you’d rather not know. In case you end up . . .” He sighed. “I didn’t want to let you down.”
She looked at him, doubtful he’d ever let anyone down. “You know, when I first saw Olivia here I thought—”
“I know what you thought.”
“You did all that. For me, her. For anyone Thornton might hurt next time he’s driving around drunk.” She sank quietly into the couch.
“Anytime, Princess. Hope I didn’t overstep.”
They stared into the shadowed yard. Then she said it aloud for the first time.
“Will and I are done.”
Luke shifted almost imperceptibly beside her. “Are you . . . okay?”
The heaving started up again as it all washed back over her. Tessa squeezed her lips together, determined to weep undetected. Trying to shove it down only made her gasp louder. Luke sat next to her. She buried herself in him, her body a convulsion of grief and betrayal. “He really believes it was all for me,” she croaked. “He thinks he can still turn it around.”
Again, Luke seemed to weigh every syllable. “Can he?”
“If you knew him before . . .” Tessa shook her head, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “Even now, I still love him. I’ll never not love him.” Her face crumpled. “He was right, it was too much. I never should’ve pushed him. But now, I’ll never know for sure. I’ll never really trust him!”
Luke had both arms around her now, his stubble brushing against her scalp. She held tight, waiting for the crashing to slow. Next thing she knew, her cheeks were dry under the blinding shaft of morning, a stash of pillows and a cotton blanket where his post-and-beam body had been.
Cauliflower / Brassica Oleracea
Water magic.
TESSA
“Are you trying to wear out my buttons or what?”
Tessa abandoned the controls, leaving the radio on “Desperado” by The Eagles and forcing her hands to her lap.
The Porsche’s leather would have been glued to her thighs by now, but the truck’s upholstery was soft. She’d have a twinge of carsickness, too, from the push-pull of the twin-turbo, but Luke’s Dodge had comparatively little to prove. How long before Tessa stopped sorting every data point into Will and After Will? Would she ever reach for her phone without the fleeting expectation of his seeing his name, I love you or thanks again for last night with heart-eyes lighting up the screen?
Luke’s arm rested on the wheel, thick veins like highways on a map. Beyond him, cornfields streaked past in a continuous wall. He sent a spine-trickling smile her way. “My sisters and I used to hate when the corn got this tall. It meant summer was over.”
“If my family owned a cabin on a lake, I’d never want summer to end, either.”
Luke looked offended. “It’s not a lake. It’s Georgian Bay.”
“Sor-ry. What’s the difference?”
A smirk played at his eyes. “You’ll see.”
An hour ago, Tessa had ambled inside the Lodge and found him dressed for work, ball cap backwards, sunglasses at the ready. But there was a cooler by the door, and his shorts looked suspiciously like swim trunks. “Wheels up in ten, Lewis. You coming or what?”
Luke had switched shifts with Tony and was seeking a co-pilot in charge of playlists and snacks on a mini-road trip. But Tessa couldn’t match his enthusiasm.
“I can’t leave you moping all day by yourself,” he said.
It seemed she should spend the day moping. Compulsively replaying yesterday’s scene at the penthouse until it felt real. Then again, there would be plenty of time for that on Monday, when Luke was on a plane.
Now, in his truck, it seemed she’d forgotten how to have hands. She opened the small duffel at her feet, uselessly fumbling her swimsuit and towel. She reached in the backseat to confirm, again, that Nano’s frozen strawberry rhubarb pie hadn’t shifted. “How many people are going to be there, exactly?”
Luke shrugged. “Everyone, probably. The annual corn roast is kind of a big deal.”
Her stomach fluttered. She wished he’d mentioned earlier it wouldn’t be the two of them.
“Would you relax? It’ll be fine.”
The truck turned down a dirt driveway tunneled by cedars. A slew of kids ranging in age from pull-ups to training bras came charging. A chorus of “Uncle Luuuuke!” rang out, and he sank into a flurry of wrestles and hugs. In the distance, the woody earth dropped into a glittering panorama, vast and thrumming and virtually horizonless, water unrolling into sky like a runaway bolt of satin. No, Georgian Bay was not the sleepy tea-stained bog Tessa had been picturing at all.
“Mom said you weren’t coming,” the tallest girl said as Luke climbed to his feet and they executed a practiced greeting of knuckle slaps, fist-bumps and finger waggles.
“Didn’t know I was until this morning, Cara-bear. Guess I get to see that no-handed cartwheel in person now, huh?”
The littlest child, late to the ruckus, unplugged a soother with a plush lamb sewn to the handle and pointed it at Luke. “Lu-Lu.”
“Aww, hey Squeaker.” Luke plucked the toddler from the ground and smothered her in loud, squishy kisses. Tessa watched as the child both delighted in, and squirmed from, the stubble on his face.
You and me both, kid.
A boy wearing knee-scrapes and Superman underwear eyed Tessa like moon rock. “Is she your girlfriend?”
Luke ruffled the boy’s sun-streaked head, smiling. “No, Geoffy. This is—”
“Hey everybody! Uncle Luke has a girlfriend!” another boy sang. Two more erupted into kissing noises that quickly devolved into farting sounds.
“What’s her name?”
“She’s pretty.”
“Are you going to marry her?”
“Is she staying for corn?”
“Ohmygod,” a tween said through braces and sparkly lip gloss, “so embarrassing!”
A girl in light-up heels and Disney tulle curtseyed before Tessa. “Bonjour.” She unfolded her hand. “I’m Georgia.” Tessa bowed with a flourish. Georgia lit up.
Grown-ups flocked over in droves as Tessa surfed through clapping embraces and double-cheek kisses. She met Luke’s dad, sister after sister—five in total, all older than him—a slew of relatives and neighbors. Inside the vintage cabin, brunch was being plated with factory efficiency. Celery appliances flung open, toast stacked into Pyrex and scrambled eggs into chafing dishes. Across a long pine table, electric griddles sizzled with bacon, sausage and pancake batter.
The woman in charge handed off her spatula, tearing away her apron. “What a wonderful surprise!” She squeezed Luke, then Tessa. Her eyes were ringed in gold. “I’m Audrey, Luke’s mom. And you must be Tessa.”
Tessa threw Luke a surprised look. You told your mom about me?
Luke looked away, no longer fluent in telepathy.
The day was a hedonistic highlights tour—great food, cocktails poured from the blender, tunes and views on the ambling dock. Laughter skimmed the lazy swells. An impromptu Super Soaker shootout, instigated by the children and escalated by Luke, drove shy Tessa to abandon her cover-up and dive underwater for cover. A washer toss tournament afforded a leisurely view of Luke’s rippling upper half. As the sun melted like a pat of butter, CorningWare filled the picnic tables and the air squeaked with the sound of corn being shucked. By dark, a tent village dotted the treeline and children reappeared with comb-lines in their hair, smelling of Ivory soap.
Tessa and Luke sat by the firelight, arms an agonized distance apart on the joint armrest. His pinky found the delicate bump at her wrist, grazing it up and down, the tiny shaft of friction shooting through her body like quicksilver. Georgia’s head popped up between them, and Tessa pulled her arm away with a start.
The child waved a stick loaded with marshmallows. “Aww, for me?” Luke said, mouth widening. “Thanks, Peach!”
Georgia’s face fell.
He laughed. “Kidding. You want extra toasty or medium toasty?”
Georgia, grinning now, replied in a posh accent. “Extra toasty, please.”
“Right away, your ladyship.”
Georgia settled into his chair to wait, auburn curls bouncing as her feet paddled. “Uncle Luke toasts them the best,” she whispered. “And, he hides extra chocolate in the s’mores—don’t tell my mom.”
Tessa zipped her lips, then tossed a pretend key over her shoulder.
The little girl leaned in, her rich brown eyes thoughtful. “How can mommies be babies?”
Tessa shook her head, bewildered.
“Auntie Lynne said Uncle Luke never even brought the baby-mommy to the corn roast.”
“Oh-wow.”
Georgia shrugged. “I guess only grown-up mommies are allowed.”
“That seems to make sense,” Tessa offered.
Luke shifted his weight from foot to foot, imploring the flames to work faster.
“And then,” Georgia continued, “Auntie Lynne bet Auntie Marie a hundred bucks that you and Uncle Luke are going to—”
Luke blew frantically on the s’more, then gently corked Georgia’s mouth with it. “Okay Peach, there you go. Hey, can you go find Auntie Lynne and tell her I’ll fix her broken filter first thing tomorrow?”
Georgia skipped off, licking the side of her hand. Luke reclaimed his seat, wincing. “That one might be a little too quick.”
Tessa laughed. “She’s great. They’re all great.” She looked away, the urge to cry rearing again. She loved everything about this place, this day. Being with Luke. And already, it was ending. “I can’t believe you’re leaving in two days.”
He looked her straight in the eyes. “I told you. I’ll be in California a few months, but I’m not going anywhere.”
On the way home, the city’s skyglow shone like a flashlight under a bedsheet. It occurred to Tessa if she let things go no further, if she left this truck and drove straight to the penthouse, she and Will could probably get back to where they were. In her heart, she knew what happened in the street that night was an accident.
One he could have told her about eleven days ago.
Back at the Lodge, she and Luke loitered in the hall, awkward as a blind date. He glanced around the empty house. “They’re probably at Ainsley’s.”
“Mm-hmm.” Tessa had never seen him so nervous.
“Are you hungry? Who knows what’s in the—”
“I’m okay, thanks.” She tried pinning his gaze, but it kept darting away.
“A drink, maybe?”
“Luke. I’m good.” Tessa bit her lip, drawing closer until the heat of him warmed her face. His scent hit on a primal level, and she ached to swim in it. She lay a hand on his chest, felt it heaving like a smart car over speedbumps.
He looked at her. “Suddenly you’re all about skydiving?”
She shook her head. “Nope. Still as terrified as you.”
He closed his eyes. “Last night, on the porch. You said you still, that you’d always—” He let out a shaky breath. “I can’t be second choice, Tess.”
How could she explain? Yesterday, in the Lodge driveway, moments before she understood the true source of her injury and life with Will cracked irreparably open, Luke’s lips on hers were already the steady current of a gold-flecked waterslide, his arms the impossible blue of Endless Summer hydrangeas.
“I won’t pretend he’s not still in my heart, maybe forever. But I can promise to be completely honest with you. Always.”
He slid a hand behind her ear, tracing her jaw with his thumb. “You’ve spent a long time being somebody’s girl. Don’t you want to go . . . be Tessa for a while?”
“Maybe. I might.” She lifted her hand to her cheek, closing it over his. “Look, if not knowing the ending up front is a dealbreaker, I get it. I just didn’t want to spend the next four months wondering what the beginning looked like.”
His voice was hoarse. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long.”
She smiled. “And?”
Confusion crossed his face.
Tessa giggled. “You kissed me yesterday, jackass.”
“Not the way I would have. I thought we were kissing goodbye.”
Tessa sank her fingers into his wavy hair, locking her eyes on his. “Kiss me hello, then.”
Luke looked at her another second before his lips emptied into her with a steady pour. She swallowed him greedily, clutching at his face, his hair. Desire migrated south in a heavy swoop. Tessa felt herself sinking away, too consumed to bear her own weight. As her legs abandoned her, his calloused hands lifted her clean from the floor, a rough cry turning in his throat.
