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Blake rolled into his parents’ driveway for family dinner night forty-five minutes late. He parked his unassuming Ford pickup behind Jordan’s elegant BMW, Carrie’s perky red Jeep, his mother, Maggie’s, efficient Prius, and his dad’s practical hybrid SUV.
You are what you drive, he thought. Maybe I should get a new vehicle.
He headed across the lawn toward the flagstone patio that lay stretched out in the evening sun behind the early 1700s farmhouse that was the Harrison family home. Every time he came back, Blake felt a sense of safety, stability, and grounding. It was like drinking from a cool fountain. He knew Jordan felt the same. Carrie was still living here, the last kid at home. After she graduated next year, she’d be off on her own too. It was weird to think of his parents here alone. But they would all come back for his mother’s family dinners, and for holidays, so the house would still be home to everyone, no matter where they all lived. His parents had said they were planning to stay on in this big house, and someday soon, hopefully, the next generation would start to fill the place up with grandchildren.
“I can be patient,” his mother had said, a gleam in her eye. “But not forever.”
A newer addition on the back of the original old building embraced the pool and gardens, and when he went around the corner, Blake saw them all assembled there, sitting on the Adirondack chairs that he and Dad had made together last summer. The sun was going down. It was nearly eight, and deep buttery-yellow rays slanted across the scene.
Carrie spotted him first and held up a hand and shaded her eyes. “There he is! Thank God you finally showed up. Can we eat now?” Her ginger hair looked bright flaming-orange in the tinted light.
Jordan stood up and tossed an empty bottle into the recycling barrel, his aim precise. “Brewski, bro?” He reached into the cooler by the picnic table and pulled out two Heinekens. Handing one to Blake, he hip-checked him a hello.
“Son, glad you could make it,” his father said, smiling at Blake while he flipped sirloin strips on the grill.
Blake went straight to his mother and bent over to kiss her cheek as she hugged him around the neck. “Hi, Mom, how’s it going?”
“Terrific!” She smiled, crinkling the corners of her eyes. “Especially now that you’re here.” Her masses of dark curly hair, shot with a few strands of silver, looked wilder than ever as the breeze lifted them off her shoulders. She was still a beauty at fifty-five, and her forget-me-not-blue eyes saw much more than most people’s. She patted his leg when he sat down next to her. “How about you, darlin’?” She looked at him carefully.
Knowing that her famous X-ray vision would see through any story he might make up, Blake took a long pull of his beer and answered, “I’m okay. Let’s talk later.”
She smiled, satisfied, and began to change the subject, but his brother stepped up and interrupted. He gestured with his beer, a wicked smile on his face.
“Later? Thought you’d have other plans for later, right, bro?” Jordan took a swig, swaying a little.
Blake frowned, sensing trouble. “Give it a rest, buddy, whatever it is.”
His brother grinned and gave a complicit wink. Blake wondered how many empties were in the recycling barrel and tried to distract everyone from whatever embarrassing scene Jordan was about to create. The kid was looking for a chance to hassle him, just as he had when they were younger, but nowadays that got annoying fast. Luckily, right then Carrie came over and started talking about her new job at the restaurant. Jordan backed off and took his beer over to hang with their dad by the grill.
“I start tomorrow. It’s so cool! I can’t wait.” Carrie tossed her long curls over her shoulders and bounced on her feet, as though ready to get right to work here and now. “Sarah says she’s going to train me as a waitress first, then hostess, so I can fill in wherever they need me. They do catering too. She said something about a wedding. Oh my God, this is so much better than data entry, you simply cannot imagine.” She laughed and shook her head.
Blake saw her happiness and felt a quick tug of emotion. “Glad I could help,” he said in a gruff voice.
She jumped over and locked him in a fierce hug. “Thank you, big brother!” She smiled up at him brightly then went off and lit the hurricane lanterns on the long glass table set with fresh flowers, Maggie’s blue china, cloth napkins, and old family silver.
Everyone pitched in to take the prepared food out from the kitchen. Big bowls of potato salad and coleslaw, a plate of thick-sliced heirloom tomatoes with fresh basil, a green salad from the garden. Sam carried over a platter of perfectly grilled steaks, which all the men especially appreciated. Blake and Jordan eyed their choices and dove for their forks.
The little weasel is such a brat. He’d better watch out for his hand! It was all in fun, right? A game? Blake swooped in on the perfect piece of steak, snatching it from under his brother’s fork.
“After you, please,” Jordan said with an angry expression. He leaned back with his arms crossed in front of his chest, staring at Blake. “You’re probably in a hurry to get back to your stalking activities.”
Blake froze with his fork in midair, slowly turning his head to gape at his brother. His jaw literally dropped. He sputtered, “What the F are you talking about?”
“Oh, I think you know what I mean,” his brother said, raising one eyebrow. But Jordan stopped there, zipping his lips with another stage wink.
Blake got the message. Jordan somehow knew he was after Sarah, and he might be prepared to make it public knowledge. He must have talked to Paisley today. It was blackmail, plain and simple.
After dinner, they stood at the sink together, rinsing their plates.
“So, what do you want?” Blake spoke quietly.
Jordan smiled. “Oh, maybe you have to mow Mom’s lawn this week and next. And clean the pool before Carrie’s birthday party. I hate doing that.”
“That’s it? Really?”
“Why, you would have paid more? Okay, you can take the garbage out now too.” Jordan tied a knot in the top of the bag and handed it to Blake. “Get outta here, knucklehead. I’m not really an asshole, you know.”
Blake cringed. He’d been so defensive, he’d lost his sense of humor. “Hey, man, sorry. I know you aren’t. It’s just, kind of a sore subject, I guess. And I really don’t want to be having this conversation, you know what I mean?”
Jordan nodded and reached out for a high five. “Brother, I feel your pain. I too have been a fool for love.”
“Okay, so just shut up about it.”
“Right. No problemo.” His brother patted him on the back soothingly, shushing him.
“I mean it, twerp!”
“Yes, yes, I know.” More patting ensued as Jordan steered them both out to the patio, where Maggie was waiting with a nice blaze going in a bowl-shaped metal fire pit. He pushed Blake down into the chair next to their mother, gave him one last pat, ruffled his hair, then kissed her good night and left.
Blake and his mother sat side by side, watching the thin red line on the horizon, all that remained of the sun. Little bats ventured out of the old barn and swooped around the garden and fields, catching insects. Lightning bugs glowed, vanished, glowed, vanished. The evening was nearly silent but for the rustle of the long grasses and the bubbler in the pool.
“So, tell me.” Mom didn’t turn her head. She just said it in a matter-of-fact voice, as though they were picking up an ongoing conversation.
“I met someone. Re-met, actually. Already knew her, sort of.” He paused, surprised it had slipped out.
“That’s good!”
“Thing is,” he continued, “I don’t think she likes me very much. I’m not sure what she wants.”
His mother turned toward him and nodded. “Yes, you do, honey. Think about it. You know what she wants. You’re just afraid to give it to her.”
Confused, he shook his head and frowned. “I thought I knew. I did. But then it got, well, really confusing, and now, I’m just not sure.”
“Blake, in every relationship, somebody has to go first. Somebody has to take the risk, reach out, and declare themselves. I’m betting that’s what she wants, because it’s what all women want. We want to be adored.” She smiled and drew a flirtatious hand up her cheek, fluttering her eyelashes. They both laughed.
“Okay, so what does that mean I should actually do?” Blake asked, still puzzled.
“My darling boy, it’s very simple. Show her how you feel.”
Thunderstruck by her words, he tried to process them. It was a simple, direct, yet terrifying and potentially devastating idea. There were pros and cons. But one thing was certain. It would end this dancing around, trying to be two fascinating people at the same time and failing at both. He was scared shitless, but he kind of liked the plan. Blake started to cheer up.
She continued. “Everything will always turn out fine as long as you are your honest, true self. That’s what every woman wants too. Just be yourself.”
Blake froze in horror, as what she had said soaked in. He hadn’t “been himself” at all, had he? He’d been two different fake people, both of whom were tricking poor Sarah. His spirits sank like a deflated balloon, settling down into the gutter of depression he’d been slogging through lately.
“Oh, Mom,” he said, rubbing his face with his hands. “I wish I’d talked to you a month ago.”
She grinned and laughed. “So, my advice is that good? All right!” Watching his face, she still had a shadow of concern in her eyes.
“Always the best, Mom. I have to try to make things right. I need to think about it, figure things out. And then I’ll do what you said—show her and tell her.”
“Good,” she said and kissed the side of his head. “You’re a good boy, Blake.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Nighty night, sweetheart.”
He walked away into the darkness, and through the trees, he saw a pink moon rising. The blood moon, they called it. People used to think it signaled the end of days. Maybe it did. The end of this relationship, anyhow. He could just give up and walk away. Was it really worth all this trouble? This irritating, shitty feeling in his gut? Something was very wrong with the situation if it made him into such a loser. And now he had to find the courage to tell Sarah everything, according to his mom, who was always right when it came to matters of the heart. That was another giant bummer, to top off all the others.
Blake went home even more depressed than when he had arrived. But he knew what he had to do. Getting up the courage to do it was another story.