“I’m glad we found him, too. I know it wasn’t easy for you all. Did he tell you his reasonings?”
Lois shakes her head. “He didn’t, but he doesn’t need to. He broke and needed to disappear.”
“He needs to let us in,” Branda comments, aggression in her tone. “I wish he knew he never has to struggle alone.”
“I think he knows that.” I take a sip of sweet tea then set it down inside the cupholder. “Ashton might technically be the oldest, but Noah is right there with him. They’re twins. Ashton handles burdens differently than Noah, I think. Ashton holds things close to his chest, while Noah masquerades with humor and levity. He carries the burden of making sure you all are well.”
“But Esme, we never asked him to do that.” Branda sits up as Lois removes her sunshades. All three of us make eye contact, and I know this conversation is headed somewhere only Noah can provide the ending to.
I release a breath. “I know, Branda. My brother is the same way. He’s the oldest, keeps his true emotions to himself, and looks after me even when I don’t need nor want him to. My brother is more stoic than Noah, even more so than Ashton, but it’s still the same concept. It’s just a thing older siblings do, and I know it would be hard for Noah to shake that feeling of responsibility.”
“It just—” Branda pauses, her brows scrunching together. “It hurts. That he doesn’t trust us enough to be by his side in his pain. He’s always there for us. I want to be there for him.”
Lois replies, “I don’t think it’s a trust issue, dear.”
I nod. “And I think it would be best if you spoke to him about it. His story—his doubts, fears, and burdens—aren’t mine to tell.”
A few minutes of silence pass between us, and I fear I may have made a mistake. But the guys finally call truces, and Noah saunters my way, breathing heavily with droplets of water rolling down his cheeks, his jaw, his chest…
“My eyes are up here, sweetheart,” he jests, moving to stand beside me before leaning down and kissing my forehead. I catch Branda’s overthinking, concerned gaze, and make an impromptu decision.
“Lois, would you mind showing me all the flowers in the front garden? There were some I’ve never seen before and would like to learn about them.”
Smart as a whip and intuitive to a fault, Lois catches what I’m throwing and slowly works herself up to her feet, cane in tow. “I’d love to show you my marigolds. Are you allergic?”
“No ma’am,” I reply, rising to my feet. I stand on my tiptoes to hug Noah and whisper in his ear, “Talk to your sister about what happened. You have to let your family in.”
I pull away, take in his furrowed brows, kiss his cheek, and follow Lois across the grass and around the side of the huge white house. Whatever is going to happen is going to happen.
“You’re good for him,” Lois says as we approach the sprawling garden full of every color imaginable. It’s nestled between the edge of the front porch and an ancient-looking magnolia tree. The sunlight streams through the leaves, giving the shaded garden enough light for the flowers to bask in the golden glow.
“He’s good for me.” I tug at my swimsuit cover-up, which is clinging to my damp high-waisted two-piece underneath. “I think he’s slowly showing me that good men who want to love a woman well exist.”
“His grandfather was the same way.” Lois smooths the sides of her silver hair as if it wasn’t still in a perfect, tightly wound bun, not a strand out of place. “His name was Ashley, you know?”
I palm the bud of a red rose. “No, I didn’t. Could you tell me about him?”
Lois’s eyes light up, and for the first time, the put-together, sassy yet stoic grandma looks on the verge of tears. “I’d love to tell you all about how Noah is a replica of my late husband. Starting with that necklace you’re wearing around your neck. It was a gift from an Alaskan alchemist, or so the legend goes…”
For the next twenty minutes, we check flowers, talk about her beloved, and brainstorm business ideas for bejeweled canes (as I promised Grannie back in Whitney). Lois reminds me so much of Grannie Bertha back home, and I hope to introduce the two of them soon. In fact, I want the Prewitts to meet my entire family. I want joint-family cookouts and vacations and parties.
The thought startles me.
In the past, I tried to keep Lane away from my family.
Bryan’s parents obviously know mine, but Mom has told me before that they didn’t do much with us, and even then, I kept Bryan away from them except on special occasions.
Why did I do that?
I guess I won’t fully know unless my memories return, but as for Lane…
I kept him away because I was embarrassed of him.
Embarrassed of the way he treated me. Embarrassed that I let it happen. Embarrassed that I was settling even though I didn’t want to admit it to myself.
“Burgers are ready!” Link calls from around the house, and Lois and I make our way back there to see Branda and Noah hug, Vance slap Noah’s back, and Ashton remaining off to the side with a faraway look on his face. As we all come together to help Link set the table under the pavilion, Noah meanders toward me, carrying a jar of pickles, and whispers, “Thank you, Esme.” Then he bumps my shoulder, almost dropping the jar in the process.
“Careful,” I say through a laugh as my hands wrap around the jar to steady it. “It’d be a shame to lose the pickle.”
