The Homecoming

  She had begun to suspect but now she was sure. Seth was trying to make amends. He might even be trying to court her. But, no, she thought. He just feels guilty and wants his shame to go away. At any cost.

  She was terrified of her feelings.

  Iris had plenty of friends but few confidants. The only person who came to mind was Grace, so she drove to the flower shop.

  When she walked in, Grace poked her head out of the back room. She grinned, happy to see Iris. In her hands she held a clipper and green molding tape. She wore her green utility apron and her fingers were dirty. There was no way to work with flowers and plants without getting dirty and wearing gloves just wasn’t tactile enough. Flowers were hard, messy work. “Well, you’re the last person I expected. How are you?”

  Iris shook her head. “I have a problem. I really need a friend at the moment.”

  “You’ve always got a friend here, you know that. Come on back.”

  The shop was empty. Only Grace was working. None of her part-timers were in. The bulk of the design work was done by Grace herself. And she got right back to it, indicating a stool at the worktable for Iris. It appeared Grace was designing a romantic arrangement, perhaps for a wedding or anniversary—white with green-and-red accents. Lilies, roses, baby’s breath, fluffy white hydrangea in a large glass vase.

  “You look very serious,” Grace said. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s about Seth,” she said. “We had it out. Cards on the table. I didn’t plan it but launched a full frontal attack, a confrontation. I really let him have it.”

  “Well, Iris, I suppose you should’ve done that a long time ago. This has been eating at you for years and if you’ll forgive me saying so, it seems you were a little over-the-top about the prom thing.”

  “There was a lot more to it than the prom,” Iris said. “It’s between you and me, right?”

  “Right, of course. But what more?” she asked, as she kept clipping and slipping stems into her arrangement.

  “Well, remember how I told you I rescued him from that party when he was drunk?”

  “Yes. And he was mad at his girlfriend and asked you to the prom and then unasked you when he made up with her and then—”

  “We had sex,” Iris said.

  Grace stopped arranging. She looked at Iris over the hydrangea. “Sex?”

  Iris nodded. “He got all sentimental and touchy, told me I was the only girl he loved, started kissing me and it just went where that sort of thing usually goes. We got naked. In the flower van. Except he was drunk and I was a young girl who had lived for him to notice me as a female and not a buddy. I couldn’t see that it was one of those stupid, groping, meaningless—”

  The bell on the front door of the shop jingled. Grace’s mouth was hanging open. Her eyes were fixated on Iris. “I will kill whoever that is. Don’t lose your place.” She dashed out of the workroom.

  Damn the luck, Grace thought as she saw her customer. It was old Barney Wilcox. He came by every week or so, poked around at the flowers, made conversation, left after spending a couple of bucks on a single flower for his wife of fifty-two years. He was there as much out of boredom as affection for his bride.

  Grace took the bull by the horns. “Barney, so nice to see you. Listen, I’m rushing to meet a deadline and don’t have much time. Can I fix you up with a beautiful hydrangea stem in a vase for about three dollars?”

  “That would be nice, I suppose,” he said. “But I—”

  Grace dashed to the back room, plucked a stem out of her arrangement, plopped it in a slim vase, tied a length of white ribbon around it and sped out to her customer.

  “Think that will make Mrs. Wilcox happy today?”

  “I think so. Thanks,” he said.

  “Three even,” she said. He paid her and she rushed back into the workroom. “Okay, I think I left you somewhere around ‘meaningless nudity,’” Grace said.

  “I didn’t realize he didn’t mean any of it,” Iris said. “I was so inexperienced. I was a virgin. I figured it out when he clearly didn’t remember it. By the time I got my clothes buttoned, he’d passed out. And when he asked me if I wasn’t making too big a deal out of that prom thing I knew—he had no idea. He’d blacked out.”

  “Oh, Iris. That’s been hurting you all this time?”

  “I don’t know what hurt me more, his forgetting or the fact that I let it happen. But a couple of weeks ago he was cutting my grass on Saturday morning and I stormed outside to tell him to go away because I was sleeping. Sometimes I get a little crabby when someone wakes me up before I’m ready,” she said. “And he said exactly the same thing that he said that night in the flower van. ‘Come on, Iris. I need you.’ And I totally lost control. I decked him.”

  Grace’s mouth fell open. “As in hit?” she whispered.

  Iris nodded. Her chin quivered.

  “You hit a police officer?”

  She nodded again. “Knocked him flat. A felony. Maybe.”

  The bell jingled. Grace looked at the ceiling of her little flower shop. “Am I being punished for something?” she said. She dashed into the store.

  “Jeremy,” she said. She sighed. Another infrequent customer who never bought much and loved to talk. Jeremy was one of the young guys from down at the marina, so in love with his pretty little wife but without much to spend. She’d been fixing him up with single blooms for a long time. “How are you?” she asked.

  He puffed up a little. “I guess you could say I’m perfect. Janie had the baby! A boy! Just like we thought! And wow, is he big—over nine pounds, twenty-one inches, and we sat up through the night before he decided to come. His feet are so big they’re like skis. I was there the whole—”

  “I have just the thing,” Grace said. She ran back to the workroom. She looked at her stash of accessories, grabbed a pair of blue baby shoes, pulled a length of blue ribbon from the ribbon dispenser, stuck the shoes in the arrangement she’d been working on, tied the ribbon around the vase in a nice bow, filled the vase half-full with water and ran it back into the shop. “Here you go, with my sincere congratulations!”

  “Wow, that’s pretty big. I don’t know if I can—”

  “From me to you,” she said. “To celebrate the birth of your son!”

  “You can’t believe how hard that labor was and how much I really had to help,” he said, holding the arrangement in the crook of his arm. “And the doctor said—”

  “I can’t wait to hear all about it, Jeremy! Please promise to come back and tell me all the details when we both have more time. I’m in a rush and I know you want to get those flowers to your lovely wife.” She walked around her counter, led him to the door, tried not to push him out too zealously, and flipped the Open sign to Closed. She locked the door and ran back to the workroom. “Okay, when I left you, you had just committed a felony. And I closed the shop.”

  “You closed?”

  “I’m not opening that door again until I know everything! Did you knock him out?”

  “No. But it sure surprised him. He had no idea why I’d do that.”

  A big spider suddenly appeared on the worktable, probably having hitched a ride in a flower shipment. Grace gasped and nearly fell over her stool trying to get away from it. Iris made a fist and slammed it on the spider without hesitating. She wiped her fist on her skirt.

  “So I had to tell him,” Iris said.

  Grace reached for a paper towel to wipe up the squished spider. “Apparently you’re a very physical person,” she said, making a face at the mess.

  “Didn’t anyone ever tell you—you can’t be in the flower business if you’re squeamish or scared of bugs?”

  “I’m fine with bugs. I just don’t like them here. So you told him,” Grace said.

  “And just as I always suspected, he had no mem
ory of it at all. He had no idea. He was basically doing it in his sleep. I could have been any woman.”

  “Yeah, I knew that about men. Did he say he was sorry?”

  “Of course. He was devastated. He was worried that he’d hurt me, which he had not. At least not until he ignored me and forgot about me and about it. He thought I was mad about the prom and he got mad right back, saying it was stupid and melodramatic, that I knew he had a girlfriend and they’d just had a fight and... Well, you know all that.”

  “So, he’s sorry, which of course he should be, but what do you expect of him now? Is he supposed to be more than sorry?”

  “He’s been sending me gifts all week and today this note came in a horn of plenty. It’s beautiful, by the way. Will look great on my dining room table.” Iris pulled the small note out of her pocket and passed it to Grace.

  Grace read it. “That’s very sweet,” she said, handing it back. “Why does this upset you?”

  “You have to know Seth,” she said. “No one knows Seth like I do. He’d do anything for my forgiveness because he feels guilty about what he did, even though he was just a stupid kid and didn’t mean to do it. He’d never intentionally hurt anyone. And now that he feels responsible for my anger, for my hurt, he’ll do anything. He’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to me. He’d marry me to make sure I know how much he regrets his actions.”

  “Gee,” Grace said. “A girl could do worse....”

  “He’d sacrifice anything...everything to undo what he’s done. At first I wouldn’t tell him why I didn’t want to be best friends anymore because I just couldn’t face the humiliation. Then I didn’t tell him why because I didn’t want him to be nice to me out of guilt.”

  “Come on,” Grace said. “You’re thinking for him. You can’t be sure all he feels for you is guilt.”

  “No, I can’t. And I also can’t be sure it’s not.”

  “Iris,” Grace said, leaning toward her. “You’d think a counselor would get over adolescent trauma by now!”

  “That’s why I’m in this business,” she said. “You just don’t know how hard it is to get beyond adolescent trauma.”

  “Yes, I do, but this is not about me. You should level with him. Again. Tell him why you’re worried about his attention.”

  “Not in a million years!”

  “Here’s what you’re going to do. Go home. Change into something that looks great on you, put on some fresh lips, go to Cliff’s at seven and tell the man you forgive him. He didn’t know what he was doing, it’s been seventeen years and he’s very sorry. Besides, what more can he do? What more do you want?”

  “I don’t want anything,” Iris said. “I just want him to move on. I’m not strong enough for all this. I don’t want to be his cross to bear.”

  “Iris, let him make his amends, accept his apologies and put him out of his misery.”

  “I’m afraid, Grace.”

  “Afraid of what?”

  “Grace, I’ve wanted to fall in love since I was eighteen! Every time I met a guy with potential, I wanted so much to fall in love and be loved! But I couldn’t. Because the only guy I’ve ever loved is Seth. I don’t want to want him and watch him walk away from me again! I don’t want to confuse his making amends for love and have my heart broken all over again!”

  Grace stared at her, speechless. Finally she said, “Wow. Who knew you were so complicated.”

  “What am I going to do?”

  “Go to dinner. Have a conversation.”

  “I just don’t know what to say!”

  “Talk to him. Tell him the truth. It seemed safer to drive him away than to make up only to watch him walk. Level with him. Be honest for once. Tell him that you’re relying on him to also be honest.”

  “I can’t,” she said. “I just can’t.”

  “Listen to me, Iris. Do you want to feel this way for another seventeen years? Confused and hopeful and angry and hopeful again? There’s only one way to end this. Rip off that Band-Aid! Tell him, as a girl you loved him. You’re not a girl anymore—you’re a woman. Too old to play games. Too old to pretend. Tell him you need him to promise not to mislead you with stupid gestures. But also tell him he’s forgiven for all the misunderstandings and idiocy of youth and he is allowed to let it go and walk away. Seriously, Iris—get it over with.”

  Iris sniffed. “And then?”

  “And then, I can recommend the crab cakes. Nobody makes crab cakes like Cliff’s.”

  Six

  Iris dressed with care. She tried to examine her motives honestly and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to torture Seth before telling him she was forever done putting up with his mixed messages or if she wanted him to be impressed and tempted. She wore gold slacks that accentuated her long legs. Not shimmering gold but more of a yellow-gold. She had a favorite cowl-necked black sweater that flattered her figure and she added a long gold chain. She risked a great deal by wearing her hair loose, falling to her shoulders. If she got caught in a big wind she’d look like Bozo the Clown with brown hair.

  Her confidence restored, she walked into the restaurant and looked around. There was Seth at the bar. He turned, saw her and stood, looking across the bar at her. He smiled.

  And right next to him, Troy stood. Also smiling.

  Oh, this could be problematic.

  Just to be safe, she looked around to see if any other eligible bachelors stood and smiled at her. Thank God, it was only two. But why did it have to be the two men she’d been trying to push away? She was trying so hard to build Troy into a good friend without romantic expectations and to keep Seth from leading her on and hurting her again. They were both making this difficult. She was running out of patience. If Troy had expected a quiet, private romantic dinner, Cliff’s was the last place he should have chosen. If Seth wanted yet another round at working things out, he should be worried she might hit him again.

  She realized she was just standing there while both men waited.

  She moved toward them.

  “You look beautiful, Iris,” Seth said.

  “You sure do,” Troy agreed.

  “Thank you. You have me at a disadvantage since I don’t know who invited me to dinner.”

  Troy had just opened his mouth when Seth spoke. “You mean you came to meet someone for dinner without knowing who it was? Iris, that can’t be safe!”

  “In Thunder Point?” she asked. Then she lied. “I assumed it was Troy.”

  That made Troy beam with pleasure. “We have a table ready,” he said.

  God, it was him! Would he never get the message? Iris had a very brief and evil idea. She could act as if she was interested in Troy and see how Seth felt about that but the idea vanished very quickly as she imagined many more weeks of Troy trying to convince her they were meant to be a couple. But it would really serve them both right.

  “What a nice surprise, Troy!” she said.

  “Day late and a dollar short, as usual,” Seth said.

  “Huh?” Iris and Troy both said.

  “I thought I’d come here after work, maybe eat some crab cakes at the bar or, if I ended up real lucky, I’d run into friends who felt like dinner. But I wouldn’t want to intrude on a romantic evening,” Seth said.

  “It’s not romantic,” Iris said before she could stop herself. Well, she had to say that. She’d been trying like hell to explain to Troy she wanted to be friends but not lovers. It was beginning to look like she was going to have to do that the painful way. “Troy is a very dear friend, a colleague I depend on. We’re not dating.” She flushed slightly and couldn’t bring herself to look at Troy. If his expression was crestfallen, she might weep on the spot.

  “Well, in that case, do you mind if I pull up a chair?” Seth asked, smiling.

  “Gee, I don’t know. Troy might h
ave something he wants to discuss,” Iris said.

  “I’ll leave you before dessert,” Seth said, offering no way out. “Lead the way,” he said to Troy. He followed them. “Did you like the apples?” he asked.

  She stopped dead in her tracks and looked over her shoulder at him. “What? You gave me apples? There was no note, no card.”

  Seth maneuvered around them to hold Iris’s chair for her. “I was up north over the weekend and it was harvest time. The apples were unreal, weren’t they? As big as melons! Sorry, I should’ve thought of a card.”

  She sat down and looked between the men. “Cookies? Scarf? Wreath? Horn of plenty?”

  “Cookies,” Seth admitted. “I thought you’d recognize them. My mom made them. She always made those when we were growing up.”

  “Scarf, wreath and horn,” Troy said, not happy. “Maybe you two can share more childhood stories. I really enjoy those.”

  Oh, he’s asking for it, Iris thought. It was one thing for Troy to try being sweet, another to act proprietary when she’d specifically told him if he didn’t stop with the romantic gestures they couldn’t even be friends.

  Cliff appeared at their table to take drink orders. Iris didn’t hesitate. “Chardonnay. And hurry.”

  The men ordered beer and menus were placed before them.

  “So, let me get this right. You were both leaving little gifts on my porch, both of you omitting notes.”

  “I just forgot,” Seth said. “Really, I thought you’d figure it out—especially the cookies.”

  “I was trying to intrigue you,” Troy said. “The dinner invitation was obviously mine. In my handwriting.”

  “It was printed,” Iris said in her own defense. And then she began to laugh. “Oh, my God,” she said, laughing some more. “Well, here we are,” she said, trying to regain her composure.