Page 116 of Catching Sparks

Poppy rubs a hand up my spine and asks, “Are you okay?”

“Oh, he’s just fine,” Mom answers for me before looping her arm through Poppy’s and tugging her away from me. She leads her up the steps and into the house, leaving me behind.

Poppy glances back at me and winks before mouthing something I can’t make out, then disappears from view. I’m left outside in the sun, attempting to clear my throat enough to suck down a solid breath before I pass out.

“Are you okay, Garrison?”

The question startles me, but it’s just Harvey. He lingers with the two suitcases and my carry-on beside him, awaiting further instructions.

“I’m fine. Thank you for grabbing our luggage. I’ll let you know if we need you before tomorrow morning.”

He nods but does a shit job of hiding his amusement. More than a few people would love to watch me so out of my comfort zone, so I can’t even say that I blame him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

I wave him off. The only way he’ll see me tomorrow is if I can make it past today.

40

POPPY

Cynthia shows me around the Beckett household with animated movements and explanations of how and when each room was decorated. I learn she loves interior design but never wanted to make a career out of it. She could have, that much is made clearer with every room we step into. I don’t bother hiding my genuine awestruck reactions, and I think she loves that too.

Garrison quite literally grew up in a mansion. As soon as I think we’ve reached the last room, Cynthia pulls me into another. By the time we get back to the first of two sitting rooms and she ushers me into a burnt-orange, oversized chair, jet lag has hit me.

I can’t stop searching the space for little pieces of Garrison and their family. I’m not disappointed with what I find. This room is the coziest of them all. A dark-bricked electric fireplace is on my left, flanked with floor-to-ceiling built-in bookshelves that are cluttered with trinkets and photo frames. There are a few books scattered there, but it’s obvious the shelves were built for a more sentimental purpose.

“In the biggest frame is a photo we had taken for us at Garrison’s university graduation. Beside it is one of the most recent photos we’ve taken and my personal favourite. It was during my birthday last year. My son rented the entire zoo for me. Had it completely shut down for the day just so I could see the giraffes without interruption,” she explains, a dainty, wrinkled hand pressed over her heart.

I blink back the sudden sting in my eyes and nod for her to continue, desperate to learn more.

“I have a bit of an obsession with giraffes. You see, my husband, Reggie, took me on a trip to Africa on our honeymoon, and I fell head over heels for them. I certainly wasn’t expecting such an extravagant birthday gift, but with my condition, travelling hasn’t really happened much these past few years. I’ll never be able to go back to Africa, but just getting to see them in person again was enough.”

“That’s incredible, Cynthia. They’re beautiful animals. I’m glad he could give you that experience. It seems to be a habit of his to go above and beyond,” I say, attempting to sound cheerful while all but choking on tears.

“A habit very few have seen. My boy certainly loves to hide the best things about himself behind a near impenetrable wall.”

“Do you know why he does that? He deserves for everyone to see how amazing he is instead of believing the worst in him.”

I’m unsure where he is right now, but for now, that’s a good thing. This might be the only time I get alone with his mom, and I want to learn as much as I can. If I can help him with something, I want to know how.

Talking to Cynthia is easy. She has an aura around her that sparks peace and confidence. I don’t want to take advantage of her openness, but I don’t want to miss out on this opportunity, either.

“I agree with you, but I’m not completely sure when it happened. Not without opening a can of worms that are sure to leave a mess in this house. Garrison has always been quiet and reserved but still warm. I fear he’s let what happened with his us change that. Alter the way he sees relationships,” she says, regret lacing every word. Nibbling on her lip, she crosses one knee over the other. “Has he told you what happened to me?”

“He has. It would be the most obvious explanation for his behaviour. But I’m not sure that gives me much clarity.”

“When he told me you were coming today, I expected him to ask about his father. The two of them haven’t been home at the same time more than a handful of times since before my accident. Reggie is here today, and I’m sure that explains Garrison’s absence. I’d bet they’ve already run into each other and have gone to opposite sides of the property just to avoid one another.

“What happened to me was an accident. It is far less Reggie’s fault than mine. I’m the one who fell and decided to take care of myself instead of asking for help. My son doesn’t necessarily believe the same thing,” she explains with a heavy sigh.

“Has he told you how he feels about your husband’s absence in his life? Before your accident?” I ask cautiously, not wanting to divulge too much without Garrison present. “I know I’m an outsider, so please tell me if I’m overstepping, but I feel like Garrison’s hurt stems from there and only grew after your accident.”

Cynthia doesn’t appear offended by my comments. If anything, I think she warms to me further. Her lips tug into a sad smile as she pats the arm of her matching chair.

“I believe you’re right, Poppy dear. Thank you for not being too afraid to speak with me about this. I appreciate honesty above much else these days. Especially from the woman my son is in love with.”

My cheeks burn red-hot as I release a pathetic laugh. “Oh, he hasn’t said that to me.”

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