Page 10 of Love Never Happens with your Brother’s Best Friend

“I’ll be one minute,” I tell the table of four. Although I can tell they are not paying the slightest bit of attention to me. “Yeah, Dylan. What?” I say barely masking my irritation.

“Come up to Mom and Dad’s for dinner tonight. It’ll be nice.” Then he yells out, “Thanks, Kate. Great food as usual.” My brother smiles at the four seated customers and says, “I recommend the burgers. Enjoy.”

Chapter 6

Brodie

Jeanie, Dylan and Rita’s mom, shows me to the spare room upstairs in their house. Everything is just as I remember, right down to the pale green wallpaper patterned with white daisies and cotton drapes, the simple wooden furniture, and framed landscape watercolors on the wall. Jeanie scolds me for booking into the hotel and not just rocking up to the house.

“Mrs Carmichael. I haven’t seen you in years,” I say in my defense. “I couldn’t just walk up, knock on your door, and say, ‘Hey. It’s me. I’m back. Can I stay at your house?’”

“Yes! That’s exactly what you should have done,” Jeanie says beaming at me. She reaches up to touch my cheek. “It’s so good to see you.” Her eyes shine with emotion. Then she steps back, lifts her chin, and says, “And please call me Jeanie… There’s room in the closet for your things. Stay as long as you want, okay? I know that Dylan is so happy to see you.” Jeanie pauses then says, “Rita, too… I’m sure about that.”

Like the cozy homestead, Jeanie is just the same as she was years ago, too. Apart from a few more grey hairs perhaps, and deeper smile lines around her eyes.

Being in the Carmichaels’ house unleashes a flood of warm memories. It’s the feel of the worn wooden banister and the sound of the stairs as I walk down to where Dylan waits for me in the hall.

“Ready?” he says as we head out of the back door and down the porch steps.

“Yeah. You know, it’s so great to be here. Really.” I slap Dylan’s shoulder. “I forgot what your place means to me. Your house was so much more home than mine.”

“Remember that treehouse we built?” Dylan asks as we walk down a track away from the house. The dogs, a labrador, and a spaniel, follow close behind, happy to join in on an adventure.

“Yeah, of course.”

“It’s still standing.”

“No way.”

We kick our way down a narrow path, between bracken and nettles, to where an ancient oak tree stands alone in a grassy clearing. A rudimentary ladder, missing a couple of steps, is nailed to the trunk and leads up to an almost flat platform wedged between the branches. The timber is green with lichen and moss. Dylan climbs up first and we sit on the platform, resting our backs up against the trunk. Our legs dangling off the side. The dogs get bored and wander off.

“I remember it being bigger. And didn’t it have a roof?” I ask looking straight up into the branches.

“We were smaller back then,” Dylan says looking straight up too. “And, yep. The roof blew away in a big storm years ago.”

We are quiet for a while, and it feels as if we’re both kids again. Being in the treehouse, I forget all the pressures and the recent dramas in my life. I can’t believe I’ve been away from Oak River for so long.

“It was the best time, wasn’t it? Building this den.” I pat the sturdy plank supporting our weight that we recycled from a neighbor’s demolished barn.

“The best.” Dylan smiles at our shared shenanigans. “Hey, what about that time Rita was stuck and she was too scared to climb down the ladder?”

“She was so scared. And angry with us.”

“I know. And then you convinced her that it was safe to jump and that we would catch her.”

“That wasn’t me,” I say laughing. “You told her to jump.”

“It’s funny now, but I was convinced that we would catch her and not all end up in a heap on the ground.”

“It’s a miracle no bones were broken.”

“If Dad found out about that, I would have been in so much trouble. But Rita never said anything.”

“She wouldn’t tell.”

I want to ask about Rita but decide not to. The time isn’t right. Maybe tomorrow.

We talk about things we used to get up to. The dares and scares. The teachers we liked and the ones we didn’t. The fun times at the town’s spring fair. The fireworks. The almost getting caught. The apologies we had to make; heads bowed in remorseful sincerity.

---