Page 65 of End Game
“No reason, really,” I say, looking at the water. “Just having boy problems, that’s all.”
“Oh, dear, you’ll always have boy problems. I had them until the week Peter died,” she laughs. “He was always telling me he’d do something and not do it or not drinking his vitamin drink or leaving candy wrappers on the floor beside his chair. He could be infuriating.”
“I think mine are a little more complicated than that.”
“Can I give you some unsolicited advice?”
“I wish you would.”
She thinks for a long moment, touching the side of her face as she measures her words. “Everything in life is on some unseen, coordinated timing mechanism. Think about it. Everything is circling, staying in perfect harmony every day despite what humankind wants or needs or thinks. The Earth circles the Sun, the Moon circles the Earth, even our heartbeats are timed. Correct?”
“Correct.”
“As you go through your life, Layla, remember that. Nothing is random and nothing is coincidence. Everything is running on a schedule, a pattern that we don’t see or control. When Peter passed away, I remember wishing he’d have made it to see spring. It was his favorite time of year with the flowers blooming and the waters warming. But spring that year came with the death of many of our friends, the closing of two of his favorite businesses in town, and such horrible politics. I realized then why he was taken from me early. He would’ve hated that spring.”
“I’m sorry he’s gone, Mrs. Brasher. He was such a lovely man. I can’t see a pink carnation and not think of the bushes that line your driveway.”
She smiles with pride. “Thank you. It means a lot that he’s remembered fondly.” She looks back to the water. “I brought you some dinner. Finn said to make sure you’re eating so I made some Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes. Are you hungry?”
My stomach rumbles, my mouth watering at the thought. “I’m starving, actually. I didn’t bring groceries or call Henry to fill the fridge before I came,” I say, referring to the handyman that keeps up the cabin while we aren’t here.
“Follow me to the boat, if you don’t mind, and collect your dinner, sweet girl. I need to get back home to let Mitsy out. She’s been so good about not going potty in the house, but I don’t want to keep her too long.”
We rise and I follow her down the long, narrow path to the water. She hands me a picnic basket and a jug of tea. “Here you go. If you need anything, you call me.”
“I’ll be fine, Mrs. Brasher. Thank you for this. Honestly.”
She pats my hand before untying her boat. “Remember what I said about timing, Layla James. Life is timed to a watch we don’t control. Things happen today to set up things later that we can’t predict or see or imagine. Don’t fight it. Embrace it.”
With a little wave, the boat drifts away from the dock. I trek back to the house with my dinner and a little food for thought too.
CHAPTER 20
LAYLA
I scrape the rest of the food off my plate and give it a quick rinse. Sticking it in the dishwasher, I pause to look out the window. The sky is a beautiful cascade of purples and oranges as the sun starts to dip on the other side of the lake. It’s beautiful and I give a long thought about raising the baby here.
The baby. The words aren’t quite as overwhelming as they were a few days ago. I’m still not sure how this is going to work out or how I’ll learn to be a mother, but it seems more manageable. Maybe.
“Do you like it here?” I ask aloud, splaying my fingers on my abdomen. “It’s quiet. You could play outside with no one to bother you and Mommy could work from the porch and make you lunch like my mommy used to do for me.”
There’s a serenity about this, so much so that I begin to wonder if it’s actually possible. Up until now, raising a baby seemed more like a “Can I do this?” Now it’s a “How do I do this?” and that’s a totally different thing.
I glance at the refrigerator and think back to Branch. A grin touches my lips immediately, the good memories coming back around, even if they were just for a short time. Our future isgoing to be tangled, and I find myself hoping we can just get along a fraction as well as we did then.
I go back to the table and sit next to a yellow legal pad and black pen. A few notes are scratched into lists, things I need to work out and prepare and notes from a baby book Poppy brought me.
Looking up as a set of headlights shines through the windows, I stand as they flick off. I walk to the glass and watch Branch trudge towards the door.
A lump materializes in my throat, making it impossible to swallow and just as hard to even breathe. His head is down, his hands tucked into the pockets of his worn jeans as he hits the landing of the stairs. He doesn’t look up until he’s at the door.
The sound of the knock makes me jump even though I expect it and I stand and stare at the chunk of wood separating him and I. The barrier feels good between us. Like if I can stay inside and keep him out, I can hide in my little cocoon.
Then he knocks again.
I touch the handle like it might burn me, placing one finger on top of the metal knob.
He knocks again. “Layla, open the door.”
