16

Saffron could feel Tyson’s nervousness on the way to his parents’ house, and she wanted to make it better, but she was already wishing she hadn’t agreed to come. She and Tyson barely had an idea where their relationship was heading, and his parents hadn’t been any help the last time.

“Are you staying at the hotel again tonight?” she asked. “Or at your parents’?”

“Neither, I think. I’d rather head back to Oceanside. I have an early appointment tomorrow, and I don’t want to risk traffic. I’ll make better time tonight.”

The knowledge made Saffron relax. At least there would be no awkward good-night scene or rash decision about sleeping arrangements at the inn. Because as attracted as she was to Tyson, she wasn’t ready to jump into a physical relationship. At the same time, a part of her regretted not being able to spend more time alone with him. Their day at the beach had been perfect.

“So,” she asked, “do your parents like Jana?”

He glanced over at her and then back to the road. “Does it matter?”

“Not really. Well, maybe a little.” A lot. If his mother didn’t like Jana as she hadn’t liked Saffron, maybe her pushing Saffron away was standard practice.

“Uh, yeah. She and Jana get along.”

Of course they did. And from his expression, it wasn’t just getting along. Great.

When he brought the car to a stop in front of his house, she almost didn’t recognize it. The trees were larger, the landscaping changed, and with the new ramp, it looked completely different.

“You think we can get it all finished tonight?” she said. “The sun’s already going down. We should have eaten fast food instead of going to a restaurant.”

He grinned. “If you’re as good as you say you are, we’ll get it done.”

She slugged him, and he reacted by putting his arms around her and kissing her. All the doubts of the evening fled.

“When you hold me like this . . .” she started, but she couldn’t voice the words. Hope, fear, and desire filled her—but close on the heels of these positive emotions came the pain of old hurts.

“I know,” he whispered. “It’ll be okay.”

Something he’d always said to her, but he’d been wrong before. Oh, so wrong.

“Come on,” he said, jumping from the car. She followed him out, her heart shrinking to a painful lump in her chest.

He opened the trunk and began pulling out the stain and plastic they’d purchased on their way here. “Could you lay out the plastic over the driveway where it meets the ramp? The grass doesn’t matter, but I’d rather not get the stain on the driveway. While you’re doing that, I’ll zip around back and make sure the guys I hired aren’t taking an extended break. I want to make sure they finish tonight.”

“Sure, no problem.” She was relieved to put off going inside to see his parents.

“I’ll get the brushes and rollers when I come back. They’re in the garage where I’ll put a couple of these cans, since they’re for the back ramp.” Carrying two cans of stain, he started walking toward the garage but stopped after a few steps and added, “Unless you’d rather go around back and talk to the guys with me.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. Unless my sister’s there.” Saffron hadn’t seen Kendall since she’d left for school that morning, though she’d sent a brief text saying she’d be back at the inn later.

“She wasn’t here when I talked to the guys, and I don’t see her car, but she’ll probably pick Joel up.” He hesitated. “Everything okay between them?”

Saffron opened the plastic sheet. “I think so. Do you know something I don’t?”

“Not really. One of the guys made a comment about his having to ask her permission to do things with them. I thought Joel would punch him out.” He started walking again. “Hopefully, they behaved themselves while I was gone.”

Saffron hoped so too—for Tyson’s sake. She watched him punch in the garage code and disappear inside. She shook out the thin plastic, taking care to place it as close as she could to the ramp where it met the driveway. When she was finished, Tyson still hadn’t returned, so she went to the garage to look for some tape to secure the plastic to the cement. The single-car garage didn’t hold any cars at the moment—just a mishmash jumble of boards, planks, sheetrock, old appliances, and power tools. With a little snooping, she found a tote box of painting supplies and carried it out to the ramp.

She’d barely set down the box on the plastic near the end of the ramp when the front door opened and Tyson’s mother stepped out. Both women froze, gazes locked. Saffron couldn’t have run away if she’d tried.

Life had not been kind to Helene Dekker, and she’d aged considerably over the intervening years. Her brown hair, cut a few inches above the shoulders, was heavily streaked with gray, and her narrow face was deeply lined with wrinkles around her mouth and eyes. Her once-slender figure had blossomed, the weight mostly centered around her middle, which probably explained the gray stretch pants. She looked worn and tired and sad.

Mrs. Dekker recovered first. She moved slowly down the ramp, a tentative smile on her face. “Hello, Roz. I’m glad you came.” Her eyes ran over Saffron. “You look the same. Well, not really. You’ve grown up some, of course. You’re beautiful.”

Saffron swallowed with difficulty, knowing she should thank her but also knowing she couldn’t force out the words. “I came to help Tyson stain the ramp.”

Mrs. Dekker reached Saffron where she stood next to the ramp. “I wanted to see you. To say”—she glanced in the direction of the garage, as if looking for help—“I know I can’t make up for what happened to you, but I am sorry. I wish things were different. And I am so sorry about the baby.”

Was that it? Did Mrs. Dekker expect that Saffron would forgive her for being unwelcoming to her as a teen? For deleting her calls and making Tyson think she’d abandoned him? For ultimately adding to the causes that killed her child?

Saffron gathered every ounce of strength within her, pushing past the pain that threatened to spill out in a hateful rush. “I appreciate that,” she managed.

Mrs. Dekker offered a tremulous smile. “I hope we can . . . I don’t know what you and Tyson plan, but I want you to know that I support whatever decision you two make. I . . . that’s all.”

“Thank you.”

Mrs. Dekker’s eyes begged for more, but the lump in Saffron’s heart could offer no other response. It was easy for Mrs. Dekker to say she’d honor their wishes now, when she couldn’t force Tyson off to military school to prevent him from finding her. Or mess with his phone. Tears threatened Saffron’s self-control. She wished she’d gone back to the inn with Halla instead of coming here. What had possibly made her think she could face them so soon?

Without warning, Mrs. Dekker leaned forward and hugged her. “I am so, so sorry,” she whispered.

Saffron couldn’t react. Her heart hurt and her arms remained frozen even after Mrs. Dekker moved away. I still hate you, she wanted to say. But it wasn’t really true. She understood why Mrs. Dekker had made her choice. For her son, for his future. For them it had worked out.

The front door opened again, and a man came out in a motorized wheelchair. Saffron hadn’t seen Mr. Dekker much as a teen—she’d never even known his full name—but to her memory, his dark hair and grizzled face hadn’t aged a day. Only the wheelchair was new, replacing the cane he’d used previously.

“You didn’t tell me we had company,” he said, gliding down the ramp.

His wife moved aside to make room for him. “I didn’t know myself until a few minutes ago.”

“Hey, young lady, do you like my new ramp?” Mr. Dekker asked, his face radiating pride. “My son built it. He’s a doctor, you know.” Either the man didn’t recognize her or he didn’t remember what had happened all those years ago.

“She knows, Dad.” Tyson came from around the house. “She’s helping me stain it. Thanks for watching those guys while I was gone.”

“No problem. They just need motivation.” Mr. Dekker leaned over, reaching for a gallon of stain, and squinted at the label. “You got the kind I recommended, didn’t you? It’s the best.”

“Of course I did.”

“Good. Good.” Mr. Dekker set the can down with a satisfied smile.

“Would you guys like some refreshments?” Mrs. Dekker asked.

Tyson started opening the stain. “Maybe later. But probably not. We just came from dinner, and we’ll only be an hour.”

“I think you might be longer.” Mr. Dekker started rolling toward the garage. “I have some lights somewhere, in case it gets dark before you finish.”

“I already took them to the back in case the guys need them,” Tyson said. “But we can always borrow one, if we have to.”

Saffron picked up a brush, anxious to get started so she could leave.

Mrs. Dekker’s eyes ran down Saffron’s calf-length jeans and florescent pink Lily’s House T-shirt and said, “Would you like an apron or something to put over your clothes?”

“I just changed into these so I could help. I’ll be careful, but they’re old anyway.” For a moment, Saffron was struck at the difference between her mother and Mrs. Dekker. Her mother would think Saffron’s clothes were fit only for working in, not something to be protected.

“Well, you let me know if you change your mind. I’ll be inside.”

Saffron was relieved to see her go.

Tyson gave Saffron a sympathetic look and picked up another brush. “First, let’s get the edges and hard-to-reach places. Then we’ll bring out the rollers.”

“You sure it’s not going to rain?” Mr. Dekker peered at the clear sky.

“I’m sure, Dad. Shouldn’t you use the ramp to go inside now? You won’t be able to once we start.”

“I’ll go through the garage and use the back ramp when you’re done. They have the floor in. Though you’ll have to move the table saw in the garage. It’s in front of the door to the back.”

“Okay, I’ll move the saw.” Tyson poured stain into two smaller containers and handed one to Saffron.

Under his dad’s watchful eyes, they got started. The old man was helpful, pointing out places they’d missed, and the care he took not to offend was endearing. With each request, Tyson was respectful, and it was easy to see they had a good relationship. Had they always been this way? Saffron didn’t know. She knew Tyson had played football because of his father, not because he’d enjoyed the sport, and that had annoyed her back then. Maybe if Tyson’s playing had given the man joy, it didn’t really matter.

Saffron could tell Tyson knew what he was doing. As a teen, he’d been more likely to go see a movie or play Frisbee than to help his dad with projects around the house. He’d known little about wood stain or home renovations. All that had changed.

As they worked, he told her stories about his young patients, his love for them shining through his words. “They’re so brave,” he said. “Especially the littlest ones.”

“Their mothers, I bet, are a mess,” she commented.

He laughed. “Yes, but I do my best to cheer them up. Fortunately, most of the children do go home safely.” His eyes narrowed as he spied a section of the railing they’d missed. There was no way to reach it now, not unless they trampled the bush growing next to it, because he’d already taken a roller to the ramp floor in that section to test how the finish would look on the flat surface.

“Now what?” she asked.

His eyes glinted mischievously. “Now I lift you up.”

“Okay,” she said, accepting his challenge. He turned his back and she climbed on.

“What on earth?” his father muttered. But he sounded amused.

Saffron stretched to reach the spot, but not before accidentally dragging her brush over Tyson’s cheek. “Oops.”

“Oops, I bet. Can you reach it?”

“Yes. Hold on. Don’t drop me.”

“Oh, but you’re so heavy. It’s like carrying three whole feathers. Or maybe four.”

“Silly.” She painted for a minute in silence. “I hate to tell you this, but I need more stain.”

“Here it is.” Mr. Dekker lifted a can and steered his wheelchair over.

She leaned and dipped her brush, aware of her chest brushing against Tyson’s shoulder, which was even more awkward under the sharp gaze of his father. She hoped her face wasn’t flushing too brightly. Careful not to dribble the stain on Tyson or the bushes, she finished the job and jumped down.

“Way better than a ladder,” Mr. Dekker said, which started them all laughing.

Saffron threw Tyson a rag for his cheek. “Who knew staining could be so fun?” she said.

“You’ll have to help me with the back ramp.” He grinned, his eyes seemingly unable to leave her face. He looked younger staring at her like that. Wistful.

“Maybe.” She returned to the section of the railing she’d been working on, near the bottom. She could almost imagine this was their house and they were working on it together. But with the thought came a rush of unexpected agony that stopped her arm in mid-motion. Why did it hurt so much? Until a few days ago, she could go months without feeling this way.

“Why’d you stop?” asked Mr. Dekker from close behind her. “Oh, the spider. I’ll get him out of there.” He rolled forward and brushed the insect away with his fingers. “There you go.”

“Thanks.” Saffron was aware of Tyson still staring at her. Let them both think it was the spider. She pushed the hurt back to a manageable size and kept staining.

All the brush work took an hour, but the rolling only another fifteen minutes. They stood back to admire their work. As if on cue, Mrs. Dekker opened the front door. “If you’re done, come on in for some peach cobbler,” she called.

Tyson looked at Saffron, who shrugged. At this point, what could it hurt? But the tension she’d felt when she first arrived surfaced again inside her. She cleaned up the plastic and rinsed their brushes with water from the hose while Tyson moved the table saw for his father and checked on the workers in the back. Then, after washing their hands in the bathroom, they went into a kitchen that Saffron hadn’t seen enough times in the past to remember. Whatever it had been before, everything now was built for wheelchair access, except for a second sink that stood at normal height.

“So Mom doesn’t have to stoop,” Tyson explained. “It hurts her back.”

Mrs. Dekker put her arms around him. “My boy thinks of everything.”

Saffron smiled and nodded. “He’s done a beautiful job.”

“Sure has.” Mrs. Dekker’s eyes swept over him lovingly before returning to Saffron. “Come on, Roz. Let’s sit down.”

“Actually, I go by Saffron now,” Saffron said.

“Oh, okay.” But Mrs. Dekker looked confused.

As Saffron moved toward the table, her gaze snagged on a framed picture on the wall that showed the kitchen under construction. Tyson was there, his arm around a laughing, dark-haired woman, who was hefting a sledge hammer. Jana, she guessed.

The doctor was about Saffron’s height, with dark eyes, narrow face, and olive skin. She and Tyson looked good together. Matching. He appeared happy.

Mrs. Dekker noticed her gaze. “Please have a seat,” she said, indicating a chair that would put the picture out of Saffron’s sight. As curious as she was about the other woman, Saffron was grateful. She sat stiffly, her hands clenched in her lap. Tyson settled next to her, casually leaning his arm over the top of her chair.

Do you love her? Saffron wanted to ask him. She bit her bottom lip to stop the words. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice her difficulty.

Her tension lessened a bit as she listened to the family talk about Tyson’s work, Mr. Dekker’s time in the army, and Mrs. Dekker’s garden. The ease between them was comforting, though at the same time it made her feel left out. Most of that was her fault, she knew. Maybe she should have brought the pictures of her son, their grandson. But that would have only made them feel bad, she suspected, especially Mr. Dekker, who didn’t seem to have a clue that Tyson had ever dated her.

“So what is it you do?” asked Mr. Dekker when they were almost finished eating.

“Oh, I design jewelry.”

“Really?” Mr. Dekker nodded. “For a company?”

She laughed. “Only my own. I have a website, and I mostly sell from there. It’s all custom-made. I also work at a sports store, but only part-time. I need to quit soon so I have more time to work on my own stuff, but I haven’t yet because I like the people.”

“I’ll have to look you up.” Mr. Dekker made a show of writing down her website, while Mrs. Dekker offered more cobbler.

“No thank you,” Saffron said. “It was really good, though.”

“I’ll pack you some to take with you.” Mrs. Dekker popped up from the table. “Living at that hotel can’t be very fun.”

Saffron suspected this was her way of trying to make things up to her, but it made her feel worse. “No, really, it’s okay. I won’t be there long.”

“It’s no trouble. And we have so much. I’ll just get it ready.”

Saffron’s protests died on her lips. “Okay, thanks.”

Mrs. Dekker walked to the counter and turned. “In fact, depending how long you’re here, we have an extra room you could stay in. Tyson would have to move out the construction stuff that’s in there.”

Saffron felt like a butterfly pinned to a board. She knew the woman was anxious to atone for her actions, but this was so far overboard that Saffron didn’t know how to respond.

Tyson took one look at her face and intervened. “No, Mom. Saffron has a friend staying with her, and she has a sister in town. She can’t stay here.”

“It was nice of you to offer,” Saffron mumbled.

Mrs. Dekker nodded and began dividing the cobbler into two containers. “I’ll give you enough for your friend and sister too. Don’t worry about returning these containers, if it’s not convenient. They’re disposable. I mean, I reuse them anyway, but they cost practically nothing. I take food to neighbors in them all the time so they won’t have to bring them back.”

“Thanks.” Saffron watched her put the containers into a large paper bag, followed by paper plates and plastic forks.

“In fact,” Mrs. Dekker said, “I have some cookies I made this morning . . .”

Tyson arose. “I’d better take Saffron back to the hotel now.”

Saffron nearly sighed with relief. “Thanks for the cobbler.”

“You’re welcome,” said Mrs. Dekker, who was putting something else inside the paper bag.

“We still on for tomorrow?” Mr. Dekker asked Tyson.

Tyson hesitated. “Right. Yes, of course.”

Mr. Dekker said to Saffron, “Tuesdays, we go to San Diego for some new treatments. They’re experimental, but”—he tapped the arm of his wheelchair—“worth it if I can get out of this thing. We meet Tyson after work in Oceanside, and he drives us down.” He laughed. “We make it a family affair.”

Mrs. Dekker turned from the counter, the paper bag in her hands. “We always stay overnight at my sister’s. It’s the only time we get to catch up these days.” She chuckled, casting her son a look of pure gratitude.

Tyson gave Saffron a pained look. “Shall we go?”

“Sure.” She wanted nothing more than to escape.

Tyson started for the door, and before Saffron could follow, Mrs. Dekker pushed the paper bag at Saffron. “I put some rolls and yogurt in it for tomorrow,” Mrs. Dekker said. “I know girls like yogurt for breakfast. Or if the hotel has free breakfast, you can eat it for lunch.”

Saffron took it by the handles, its heaviness surprising her. “Uh, thanks.”

“Be sure to come back again,” Mr. Dekker said. “I think you’re the prettiest girl my son has ever brought around.” He laughed with pleasure at his own words. “Of course, I was always partial to blondes. Not sure how I ended up married to this gorgeous brunette.” He winked at his wife.

“I was the only one who’d put up with you, that’s why.” Mrs. Dekker placed her hands lovingly on his shoulders.

Saffron could see why Tyson cared for his parents. Deep down they were good people. Why then did she only feel pain looking at them? She was thankful the Dekkers didn’t follow them out to the garage.

“Sorry about the name,” Tyson whispered. “There wasn’t an opportunity to tell my mom about the change.”

“It’s okay.” He didn’t need to know how that name always yanked her back to a place she didn’t want to go.

Tyson didn’t head out of the garage to the front but led her to the back yard, where the workers had packed up their tools and were standing around talking. Saffron didn’t see her sister, but Joel lifted a hand in greeting while the other two men stared at her curiously.

“Beautiful job,” Tyson said looking over the finished ramp leading down from the deck. “Looks like we’re finished here.” He pulled out his wallet and began passing checks out to the men. “You’ve done a good job. I appreciate it.” The men mumbled their thanks and started across the lawn. “Hey, Joel, wait up,” Tyson called.

Joel mumbled something to the others and came back to stand in front of them. “Yeah?”

“I’m thinking I’d like to build my mother a bookcase in the spare room. Do you think that would be something you’d be interested in? Just you. I know it will take longer alone, but I need your precision.”

Joel grinned with the praise. “Yeah, I think so. But I can’t start until next week. The boys and me are leaving town for a concert.”

“Sure, text me when you get back, and we’ll work it out.”

“Will do,” Joel said. “But I’ll be gone awhile. It’s in Denver.”

Tyson whistled in appreciation. “That’s pretty far for a concert. You must like the band.”

“Yeah. John Mayer. He’s awesome with the guitar.” Joel thumbed over his shoulder. “Well, I’d better go, the guys are waiting.”

“What about Kendall?” Saffron asked. “Have you heard from her?”

He shrugged. “She’s getting some stuff from her house, I think. It’s her mom’s card game night. We’re meeting up later.” Joel gave a little wave and took off around the house.

“Why do I get the feeling he’s not all that excited about building a bookshelf?” Tyson murmured, as he turned off the remaining floodlight, plunging them into darkness.

“I guess he got paid and wants to paint the town.” Saffron felt sad for her sister. Unless Joel was job-hunting on the way to the concert, it wouldn’t help their situation.

“Well, everyone needs a break.”

“I guess.” Saffron wasn’t feeling as magnanimous, but then she’d had a knot in her stomach for the past hour.

Tyson stepped toward her and lifted his mother’s paper bag from her grasp, setting it on the grass. “Thank you for coming, for helping me,” he said, taking her hands. “For being so good with my parents.”

“They’re nicer than I thought they’d be.”

“People learn. They change.” His arms went around her. “But I know it wasn’t easy for you.”

“No.”

“Just no?” His voice was teasing.

She couldn’t say more. She wanted to be the kind of person who could just forgive and forget, but somehow doing so felt like a betrayal to her son and the suffering he’d endured. She searched for something to change the subject, and her eyes landed on the back ramp.

“How did you learn so much about construction anyway?” she asked.

His smile was wistful, and she knew her ploy hadn’t fooled him. “Some I learned from my dad, but most of it came from a roommate in college whose father built houses. I worked summers with them. It’s come in handy for helping my parents. I also completely redid my condo in Oceanside. I’d love to show it to you.”

“I’d love to see it.”

“How about Wednesday?” he asked, his arms tightening around her. “I wish it could be tomorrow, but my dad believes in this therapy and I have to take him.”

“Is it helping?”

“No, and there’s absolutely no science behind it. I only take him because belief and attitude have as much to do with healing as real medicine. So I’ll support it as long as he wants to go. But his nerve damage is irreversible. There’s been no real change in that since he first stepped on that mine when he was in the army. But the pain’s gotten worse as he ages. Which is why he’s in the wheelchair now.”

“I’m glad you’re taking him.”

“I’m thinking on Wednesday we can make a whole night of it. You could meet me at the hospital at four, we can go see my place, then have dinner.” He paused but continued before she could respond. “And I’ve also been thinking that maybe you can stay there—if you want. Paying for a hotel room long term won’t work.”

Her eyes flew to his. Was he saying what she thought he was? Because guys just didn’t offer their condos like that.

“No strings.” His voice was hoarse and his gaze dropped to her lips.

“Oh, if I stay, there will be strings.” She hadn’t waited almost nine years to fall in love again only to have it go wrong a second time.

He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But good strings.”

Her heart pounded with his nearness, and all her nerves tingled in anticipation. She watched him come closer. Slowly, he kissed the right side of her mouth and then the left side. Toying, teasing, making her yearn for more.

“Okay, it’s a date. I’ll meet you at the hospital.” If her heart pounded any more furiously, it would beat right out of her chest. “I won’t actually have a car for a few days because Halla’s taking ours back to Phoenix tomorrow afternoon. But I’ll find a way.”

“No, I’ll send a car. I insist.”

Saffron was a little uncomfortable not having a way back to Temecula if things didn’t work out, but she found herself saying, “Okay then. It’s a plan.”

“Good.” He placed another teasing kiss on the corner of her mouth. “Actually, I’m not sure I can wait that long to see you. What about also meeting me at the hospital for lunch tomorrow?”

His eagerness to be with her was so typically Tyson that she laughed. “You going to climb up to my window in the middle of the night if you don’t see me tomorrow?”

“I might. Somehow it seems almost as important as when we were sixteen.”

She understood what he meant. As if they couldn’t look away because everything would vanish. “What time for lunch? I have the car until maybe two or so.”

“Eleven’s best, but I have some wiggle room if that doesn’t work.”

“It’s fine.”

“But we’re still on for Wednesday too, right?”

“Right.” The night when she’d commit to him all over again.

Maybe.

Tyson, his arms still around her, walked her backward a few steps until they hit a tree. “Remember this place?” he murmured, his low voice sending shudders through her.

Saffron hadn’t until he mentioned it, but now she saw it was the same tree where he’d first told her he loved her. Tears gathered in her eyes. “Yeah.”

“I still love you,” he said.

“I love you too.” But then, she’d never stopped loving him.

He kissed her full on the mouth, finally, but some of the magic they’d shared during their day at the beach was gone, and Saffron didn’t know why or how to recapture it.