Читать книгу Truths I Learned From Sam 2-Book Bundle - Kristin Butcher - Страница 4

I jump the last two steps and haul open the front door.

“Delivery for Joanna Malcolm,” drones the pimple-faced courier standing on the step. He looks about thirteen. I glance over his shoulder, expecting to see his bicycle in my mother’s parking spot. Instead, there’s a blue compact with its motor running.

“She’s not here,” I tell the guy, “but I can take it.” I put out my hand for the envelope he’s holding.

He pulls back as if I’d just tried to light him on fire.

That tickles my funny bone, but I don’t laugh. “Do you need a signature?” I ask with a straight face. “Because I’m happy to sign for it. Heck, I’ll even sign Joanna Malcolm if you like. She’s my mother. I’ve forged her signature lots of times. I’m really good at it.”

The guy actually takes a step backwards.

This time I do laugh. “I’m just kidding,” I say. “My mother is out right now. If you want to leave whatever it is you’re delivering, I’ll see that she gets it. If that doesn’t work for you, come back in about an hour.”

The guy frowns. He’s obviously weighing his options. Finally, he mumbles, “I guess it’s all right.”

“Okay, then.” I grin and take the envelope. “Have a nice day.”

He doesn’t hear me, or else he ignores me. At any rate, he heads back to his car without answering. I watch him reverse out of Mom’s parking spot and boot it from the complex like a race-car driver.

I start to shut the door, but stop when a van wheels into the spot the courier has just vacated. The logo on the side panel is a jungle of crimson letters twined with vines. BLOOMIN’ GOOD it says. I sigh. More flowers.

“Afternoon.” The delivery guy smiles and waves. He’s been here before.

I return his wave and wait while he opens the back of his van. I’m thinking I should start charging my mother for all the personal assistant stuff I do. As the guy heads up the walk, I realize he has two bunches of flowers. I’m going to need both hands. I stick the envelope under my arm.

“Jeez,” I complain as he stacks the flower boxes into my arms. “You’d think somebody died.”

He chuckles and trots back to his van.

I shut the door with my foot and head for the kitchen. Depositing my load onto the counter, I dig through the cupboard for vases. The tall, square one? The short, round one? The leaded crystal? Roses demand an elegant touch. Daisies are more playful. Clearly, I need to scope out the flowers before I choose.

I lift the lid of the longest box first. Red roses — sans the thorns. Exactly what I expected. I grab the crystal vase, fill it with cold water and plant food, and start arranging the sprigs of greenery and baby’s breath. Then the roses. I strip the leaves below the waterline and re-cut the stems. One by one, I slide them into the vase. I’ve arranged my mother’s flowers so many times I could do it in my sleep. When I’m done, I step back to assess my work. Not bad. After a couple of minor adjustments, the arrangement is good to go. It just needs the gift card. I poke through the tissue in the box until I find the tiny envelope bearing my mother’s name. I prop it behind one of the roses.

I turn to the second box. Talk about overkill. Every girl likes to get flowers, but Reed really needs to pace himself.

I take off the lid and look inside. Daisies. I grin and high-five the air. I’m two for two. Either my mother’s fiancé is very predictable, or I’m clairvoyant.

No vase for this one. In the cupboard over the stove, there’s an old brown teapot that belonged to my grandmother. It’ll be perfect. I hum as I arrange the flowers. Shabby chic at its best. I’m not sure if Mom will like it, but I do.

I scoop up the gift card, but then stop. My name is on the envelope. It takes a few seconds for the fact to sink in, but when it does, I can’t read the card fast enough. Of course, it’s from Reed. “For my best girl’s best girl,” it says.

Simple, but sweet — and so Reed. My mother definitely knows how to pick ’em. And why not? She’s had enough practice.

The phone rings. I lift it from its cradle and glance at the call display screen. It’s Reed.

“Hello, Mr. Atwater.” I can hear the smile in my voice.

“Hey, Dani,” he replies. “You sound like you’re in a good mood.”

“I am. Getting flowers can do that to a girl. But then, you’re the king of flower sending, so I guess that’s no surprise. Anyway, thank you. Daisies are my favourite. How did you know?”

“Just a lucky guess. You look like a daisy girl. I’m glad you like them.”

“I definitely do.”

“That’s great.” There’s a pause before he says, “Is your mom around?”

“No. She’s at the bridal salon getting her dress fitted.” I look up at the kitchen clock. “She should be back soon though. You could always call her on her cell.”

“Right. I’ll do that. Are you going to be around for a while?”

“Unless Beyoncé cruises by and asks me to go shopping. Why?”

“Because the travel agency is sending out the itinerary for our honeymoon, and I would hate —”

“The delivery guy has already been,” I say as I lift the envelope off the counter and check out the return address. “Time Travel Vacations?”

“That’s the one.”

“Time Travel. Where are you and Mom going? Jurassic Park? Ancient Egypt? Or are you planning to test drive your retirement home?”

Reed chuckles. “Cute. I think I’ll let your mother answer that. Anyway, I have to go. Enjoy your flowers.”

As I hang up the phone and lay the envelope back on the counter, I realize that, even though the wedding is just five days away, I haven’t once thought about Mom’s and Reed’s honeymoon plans. I’m fairly certain they aren’t going anywhere tropical. I mean, what’s the point? It’s the beginning of July in beautiful B.C. Why fork out thousands of dollars to jet off to some sunny beach when they can hop in the car and go to one in Vancouver? I am also pretty sure they aren’t going somewhere Mom has been with one of her other husbands, which means Kelowna, Singapore, Rio, and Melbourne are out too. That takes care of four continents — just Antarctica, Africa, and Europe left.

I don’t know of any resorts in Antarctica, so they’re probably not going there. But Africa? Maybe Mom and Reed are planning a trip to Egypt. If I was a betting person though, I’d put my money on Europe. Mom has never been. And there are so many fabulous cities — London, Vienna, Madrid, Monte Carlo, Paris. Yes, Paris. I get all dreamy just thinking about it.

———

Turns out I’m right. Mom and Reed are going to Paris — and London, Vienna, Madrid, Monte Carlo, and a whole travel brochure of other European hotspots.

“Six weeks!” I barely squeak out the words when Mom finishes reading me the itinerary. “That’s practically the whole summer! You’re going to be gone the entire summer?”

Mom’s face goes all apologetic. “I know it seems like a long time, Dani, but the time is just going to fly by.”

“For you, maybe. You’re going to be jetting around Europe. But what about me? What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?”

My mother suddenly becomes a study in guilt. She blinks rapidly and looks away. Her cheeks bloom with colour. She bites her lip. There is no doubt in my mind — I am not going to like her answer.

“Please, don’t tell me that I’m going with you.” The stiffness that has me standing ramrod straight finds its way into my voice. As much as I would like to see Europe one day, I have no desire to tag along on my mother’s honeymoon.

She shakes her head. I relax a little, but not much. Mom still isn’t looking at me. She isn’t talking either, and it’s what she’s not saying that I need to know.

I try to take control of the situation, to shape my own destiny. “Okay then. So I guess you’re going to leave me some money and the keys to the BMW, and I’ll hang out here at the condo until you get back.”

Finally, she looks up from her hands and shakes her head. “No.”

Clearly, my mother plans to farm me off somewhere. I don’t know why I’m surprised. It’s what she’s done for all of her other honeymoons, which was fine when I was a kid, but I’m not a kid anymore. I dig my heels into the slate floor so hard I swear it cracks.

My defences are up. “Why not? I’m seventeen years old. In six months I’ll be eighteen — an adult. You know darn well I can take care of myself. Or are you afraid I’m going to throw wild parties and trash the place?”

She shakes her head. “Of course not. You are the most responsible, reliable seventeen-year-old I’ve ever met — including myself when I was your age. It’s just that six weeks is a long time, and —”

“You just said it wasn’t! You said the time was going to fly by.”

For the next few seconds, we stare each other down. I’m daring my mother to make me see things her way, and she’s trying to figure out how to do that.

She gives in first. Her shoulders sag, and the fight leaves her eyes. I sense defeat. But I’m wrong.

“Look, Dani,” she says, reaching out a hand to me. I shift my body away, and her arm drops to her side. “I was thinking about letting you stay on your own while Reed and I are away. I know you would be fine, and I’m sure I could find someone to check on you from time to time.”

I sense a but coming on, so I jump in to avoid it. “I’m good with that. I don’t mind if —”

She raises a hand to cut me off. “I’m not finished. Yesterday, I got a phone call from family, asking to see you. It was serendipity. Though I know you would be fine on your own, I think this option is better.”

I feel my eyebrows dive together. “Family? What family? Granddad died when I was eight, and Gran passed away six months ago. What other family is there?”

The tendons in Mom’s neck tighten as she swallows. “You have an uncle.”

“Get real. How could I? You’re an only child — like me.” And then the penny drops. “Whoa. If you’re talking about a brother to one of my many stepdads, forget it. It’s not going to happen. Uh-uh. No way.”

“I don’t mean that sort of uncle. I —” She takes a deep breath. “I have a brother.”

I cross my arms over my chest and sneer. “Yeah, right. Since when? Or did you just conveniently adopt somebody?”

Mom’s eyes narrow. “Be careful, Dani. You’re getting seriously close to stepping over the line.”

I don’t say anything. My mother may not be a cookie-cutter parent, but we both know who gets the last word.

For a few seconds my chest heaves, and my nostrils flare in and out like a fire-breathing dragon. Finally, I choke back my defiance and growl, “Fine. So tell me about this uncle.”

“He’s kind of a black sheep, a free spirit, a bit of a rebel.” She shrugs. “He marches to his own drummer. It used to drive our parents crazy. It finally came to a head when Sam was about twenty-two. There was a horrible fight. Then he left. And he never came back. From that day on, my parents acted like Sam had never even existed.”

“I take it this Sam is your brother.”

“Yes.”

“Older or younger?”

“Older by two years.”

“Soooo …” I draw out the word while I do some quick math. “All this happened about eighteen years ago?”

“That’s right.”

“And you haven’t seen or heard from him until yesterday?”

“No. My parents never heard from him, but Sam and I have always kept in touch. I just never told anyone.”

“Not even me?” I was incredulous. Who knew my mother could keep a secret, especially one as big as that?

“Dani, you were a kid. I couldn’t tell you. You might have let something slip. It was too big a risk. Besides, Sam swore me to secrecy.”

“So why spill the beans now?”

“Because your grandparents are both gone. We don’t have to worry about hurting them. And with the wedding and all, Sam sees this as his chance to get to know you.”

“Gran died six months ago, Mother. Why didn’t you say something then? And anyway, why isn’t this Sam coming to the wedding?”

Mom heaves a sigh. “Sam has been out of the country until recently. He only just got back. I couldn’t say anything to you until I got the okay from him. Surely, you can understand that. As for the wedding, it’s not his thing. Like I already told you, he’s a bit of a rebel.”

“Doesn’t he want to see you?”

“I’m sure he does. But obviously, that can’t happen right now. But he also wants to see you, and this is the perfect opportunity.”

“Why? He didn’t want to see me before. Why now?”

Mom clucks her tongue in exasperation. “You’re not listening, Dani. It isn’t that he didn’t want to see you. It’s that he didn’t want to hurt your grandparents.”

“Why would he care about that if they weren’t even talking? What happened between them anyway? I mean, what could be so huge that it rips a family apart like that? Did Sam rob a bank? Was he dealing drugs? Did he kill somebody?”

Mom frowns and shakes her head. “No. Nothing like that. It was a personal thing between Sam and them. You’ll have to ask him.”

“Why can’t you tell me?”

“It’s not my place.”

I don’t know if it’s the determined line of my mother’s mouth, or the way she roots herself to the floor like a three-hundred-year-old tree, but it suddenly dawns on me that I can argue right through the night, and it isn’t going to make any difference.

“You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?” I say. “You’re going to make me stay with this guy while you’re gone?”

“You make it sound like torture.”

“How do I know it won’t be? How do you know it won’t be? You haven’t seen your brother in eighteen years!”

“We’ve kept in touch. Besides, I know him. I know what kind of person he is. I love him. And I love you. You have no idea how much I’ve wanted the two of you to know each other — my two favourite people in the world. And now it’s finally going to happen.” Her eyes are shiny with happy tears. She smiles. “You’re going to love him, Dani. And he’s going to love you. I just know it.”