Chapter Thirty-Three
DAVIS
Callie glanced up from her sister’s handwritten directions, her knee bobbing up and down like the hind end of a jackrabbit. “Turn here.”
I reached over the drive column and clasped her hand in mine. “You okay?” For being such a knockout tonight, she was certainly jumpier than usual.
“Yeah, I just don’t want to get us lost.”
Navigating the road, I followed her secret directions, having a good idea of where they would lead us in the end. There were only so many options out this way. I glanced down again at the tissue-stuffed gift bag between her feet. Did that have something to do with why she was wound so tight tonight?
I stroked her knuckles with my thumb. “You didn’t tell me about what happened at the mural today.”
Her leg stopped bouncing. “What do you mean?”
“How you finished it. Maybe that’s not a big deal for a muralist, but for us small-town folk . . .” I squeezed her fingers gently and laughed. “You should have seen Brandon’s smile when he came into the clinic to tell me you let him sign it. He was pretty proud of what you both accomplished. I am, too.” I brought her hand to my mouth and kissed her smooth skin. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate all you’ve done for him this summer, Callie. He’s not the same kid I knew a few months ago.”
“I’ve enjoyed my time with him.” She blinked and directed her gaze out the window. “Clem said it’s just up that hill right there.” She tapped on the glass and pointed east to the single-lane road at the crest of the hill.
“Ah, yes. The Japanese Gardens.”
“You’ve been up here before?” Disappointment laced her voice.
“Years ago, yes. As a chaperone for Brandon’s third-grade class.” I veered up the incline to the parking lot. “But if you’ve ever been on a field trip with a bunch of elementary students, you’d know I didn’t actually get to enjoy the scenery. I think I spent most of that afternoon trekking kids back and forth to the restroom.”
She nodded absently. “No, I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been a parent chaperone on a field trip.”
“Well, you’re not missing much.” I pulled into an empty slot and hit the unlock button.
She didn’t respond.
“What’s wrong with you, Callie?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” She pushed a tight smile on her mouth. “I think I’m just relieved to be finished with the mural. And the Children’s Corner in the library, too. I guess I didn’t realize what a busy week it’s been until now.”
“I know, I’ve missed you. But I’m glad your immediate projects are finished.” I hadn’t seen her much over the last week, but I couldn’t blame her in the slightest for keeping her distance during the Lockwoods’ visit. In truth, I didn’t want Callie anywhere near Vivian after the conversation I’d had with her at the lake. Things between us were too new, too fragile, to add Vivian’s bitterness into the mix.
Callie hooked her fingers around the door handle, and the glow of her skin pulled my eyes to her face. She’d taken extra care with her makeup tonight—her lashes stained dark, her cheeks and lips brushed with something shimmery and soft. I touched the cascade of loose curls spilling from the top of her head. “Your hair looks really nice.”
“Thank you. Clem fixed it. Between me and Corrianna, she’s had a lot of practice.”
“She did a good job; although, I might be partial to the paint-splattered, wild look.” The way she looked the first time I saw her.
Callie’s eyes found mine, and for the first time since I’d knocked on her door that night, she seemed to exist here. With me. And not some distant, unreachable place inside her head.
“You mean that day in the studio?” she asked.
“Yeah. You’d just had some kind of family bonding moment with your niece and nephew.”
Her lips twisted into a smile that caused her eyes to soften. “I almost forgot about that day.”
“I haven’t.” I pecked her cheek and opened my door. “Ready to see the gardens?”
“Yes,” she said. “Are you?” Something like mischief snuck into her voice. “Because I have a surprise for you.” She raised the gift bag and pushed out her door, her melancholy mood lifting as quickly as it had come.
“That’s for me?”
She chuckled lightly. “Of course it is. Who else would it be for?”
“My birthday’s in October.”
She laced her fingers through mine. “Not every gift is meant to be given on a special occasion.”
We entered the garden through a heavily foliaged trellis, passing several couples with strollers and what looked to be a group of foreign exchange students taking pictures near an Asian-inspired arbor. Japanese maples lined each visible walkway, overlapping mini waterfalls and stone water basins.
Callie tugged my hand to a stop and scanned the area as if looking for something specific. “There.”
She led us to a bridge, a mature cherry blooming overhead and a koi pond underneath. Setting the gift down, she gripped the railing and tipped her face heavenward, breathing deeply through her nose.
“Is that your Zen breathing?”
She peeked at me. “Shh.”
When she closed her eyes again, I brushed a kiss on her exposed neck.
“You’re disturbing the serenity,” she scolded.
“Happily.”
She shook her head and reached for my hand again. “Come on, let’s cross over and get closer to the water.”
The moment we were on the other side of the bridge, she handed me the gift bag. “Okay, go ahead, open it.”
Removing the tissue paper, I slid out a slender white box and untucked the edges while Callie bounced on her heels.
A glasses case. “You bought me a pair of . . . sunglasses?”
She popped the case open for me.
And then it clicked. She was replacing the ones she’d borrowed last weekend, the ones that had fallen out of our kayak into the lake. Only these aviators weren’t purchased from a gas station display carousel. These looked to be ten times the quality and price. “Thank you, but you really didn’t need to do this.”
She brushed my comment away and bit her lip, toying with the hem of her tunic dress. “Go ahead and try them on.”
“Okay . . .” Eyeing her suspiciously, I did as she asked and slid the glasses on.
I blinked. And took them off.
Blinked. And slid them back on again. “What the . . .”
“What do you see?” she asked, her tone a breathless sort of giddy I couldn’t quite interpret.
I opened my mouth, and my voice failed.
These lenses had brought neither shade nor shadow to block out the sunshine; they’d brought . . . color. Like I’d never seen it.
Without thought, I strode down the mossy bank—green? Bright, crisp, and unmistakable, this sharp color was everywhere. In a hundred shades. And I could see every single one of them. Every gradient. The grass. The trees. Even the lily pads.
Rotating, I scanned the perimeter of the pond, awed and disoriented by a mosaic of colorful shades with names I tried to filter and categorize. A smear of brightness darted from one end of the canal to the other.
A koi fish.
Orange.
My gaze drew upward, to the rainbow of leaves overhead. Reds. Pinks. Yellows. My brain assigned the words to what I was experiencing, although I wasn’t sure I had them in the right order. And it didn’t matter.
“Can you see them?” The hopefulness in Callie’s voice turned my head, and my throat went dry at the intensity of color surrounding her.
Callie.
“Say something,” she whispered. “I’m dying over here.”
“You’re . . .” I skimmed her face with my fingers, overwhelmed by the arresting depth of her eyes. Shep had mentioned once that they were blue, but I had no understanding of just how gorgeous they were. But it was the shocking shade of her hair that captured me so completely. “You’re just . . . stunning, Callie. I had no idea your hair was so . . . vibrant.” Fire Dancer. The meaning of her name, and the truth behind it, hit me at full force. While her father had misunderstood so much about his daughter, he’d been right about the riotous passion that burned inside her. Leo Quinn would never fully know the treasure he walked away from that day.
As she searched my face, her eyes glimmered. “You can really see all these colors, Davis?”
For the first time in thirty-two years, I answered yes to that question.
She did a little victory dance in a way only Callie could pull off. “I’m so glad! I wanted them to work for you so badly. When I researched them, the company said there was a chance you may not see any difference at all, but . . . I just kept hoping you’d be able to see how beautiful this was out here. How beautiful the art of nature is. Nobody should miss it. It’s too amazing.”
“It really is,” I said, looking at her fully. “Thank you for this, Callie.”
I gathered her into my arms and rested my cheek on her head, fighting back the layering emotion. Not only for the gift of color but that Callie had been the one to give it to me. “I love you.”
She gripped me tighter around the waist, and I wondered if she’d say it back this time, tell me what I’d seen in her eyes for the past few weeks. But slowly, she pulled away from our embrace and took hold of my hand. “Can we take a walk?”
“Do I get to keep the glasses on?”
“For as long as you want. They’re yours.”
Fingers intertwined, we strolled along the path, Callie pointing out her favorite sections of the garden and stopping to admire every carved lantern and bamboo sculpture. We curved around another walkway where a double waterfall trickled into yet another koi pond. This one was larger than the last.
She started for the iron bench, and I tugged her back. “Wait.”
She followed my gaze.
“What is that? Right there?”
“You mean the clematis?” she asked.
“Not the plant.” I stepped closer and then bent to touch the petal. “The color. What’s this color? I’ve never seen it before—not in any shade I can register.”
She crouched low beside me. “Davis, allow me to introduce you to the color purple. She’s one of my all-time favorites, and you’ll be happy to know that the entire front walkway to your house is lined with a similar shade.”
I tried to picture what she meant. “The bleeding hearts?”
She nodded. “Some are brighter, more of a pink purple, like a fuchsia, but you have a few that are in the blue-violet tones, too, just like these. But every one of them is intricate and lovely.” She paused. “What color did you assume they were?”
“Red.” And without Callie, I would never have known any different.
With her hand still locked in mine, we sat on the bench. Contentedly, we watched the koi swim in the pond near our feet.
“I’ve always loved koi fish,” she said. “Their beauty, their stamina, their resilience.” She peered into the water, her face taking on that quiet, introspective look she sometimes wore when her mind visited the past. “Clem checked out a library book called Koi Facts once when I was in still in elementary school. I hid it under my bed for ages so I could admire the pictures.” She tipped her chin skyward and chuckled. “I think I even remember a fact or two.”
My gaze was drawn back to the beauty of her hair. Of her. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah, like they can sunburn easily, because their scales are so sensitive to light.”
“Kinda like someone else I know.” I tugged on one of her curls.
“I’m sure that was part of my obsession with them—their coloring.” She tossed me a knowing glance. “Us gingers have to stick together, you know?” Callie turned back to the pond, the amusement in her expression draining once again. “I almost got a tattoo of one on my eighteenth birthday.”
I angled in my seat to better see her. “Of a koi?”
“Yep. I designed it myself, too. Spent weeks sketching it out, working on lines and shading. It would have gone right here.” She pointed to spot directly above her right hip.
“What stopped you from getting it?” Callie didn’t seem the type to back out of anything she set her mind on.
She cut her trancelike stare away from the water, her eyes full of an emotion I couldn’t place. “I get this feeling sometimes . . .” She paused. “Like a pre-regret.”
“A pre-regret,” I repeated.
“Yes. Some might say it’s a premonition, I suppose, but it’s my measuring stick—for whenever I’m about to make a big life decision.” Her voice wavered as her finger wandered over my palm, scrolling a design and then wiping it away with the flat of her hand.
“And you knew you’d regret getting the tattoo?”
“Not when I walked into the parlor, no. I actually went through the whole process, showed the artist my design, let him press the temporary ink to my skin, and then . . .” She twisted in her seat, and her milky shoulders gleamed in the dipping sunlight. “I remember studying my hip in the mirror, angling my body this way and that, but I couldn’t shake it, the feeling that it was too permanent. Too limiting. Too . . . committed.” Her lashes lowered. “That was eleven years ago, and I’ve never regretted walking out of that parlor. Or listening to my gut.”
When she didn’t look up, a cold premonition of my own snaked into my conscience. “Why are you telling me this?”
Without permission, Vivian’s remarks circled back through my head as Callie finally looked up, her eyes pleading for me to understand.
She is a free spirit with no structure and no staying power . . .
Listen to yourself, Davis, she’s not the type who settles down . . .
Brandon’s already lost one mother . . . Don’t risk his heart . . .
I slid the glasses off my face, closing them inside my fist as the world around me morphed back into the only reality I’d known before tonight.
I forced the words out. “Is that how you’re feeling now—about us?”
Averting her gaze, her finger continued to meander in my palm.
Sketch and erase.
Sketch and erase.
Sketch and—
“Callie.”
She squeezed her eyes closed and released a shaky breath. “Yes.”
That single admission broke me. I stood from the bench and braced my hands at the back of my neck. This couldn’t be happening. Not again. Not with her. “How long have you felt this way?”
“Listen, I’m not saying I want what we have to end, I’m just trying to be honest with you.”
“Then be honest with me. How long have you felt like this?”
She smashed her lips together and stared at her toes. “A little while.”
A little while. And yet she’d led me to believe that I wasn’t alone in wanting more between us. So much so that I’d actually believed she was considering making a life here. With me. With Brandon.
I thought back to her edgy nerves when I picked her up tonight. Her distracted state of mind on the drive over. Her surprise glasses she’d been waiting to give me. Until now. “You planned this entire night—why, so you could let me down easy, Callie? So you could walk away and leave me with a parting gift?”
“No.” She stood, reached out for my forearm. “That’s not at all what I wanted to happen tonight. I was simply hoping we could . . . I don’t know, slow things down a bit. We’ve only known each other for a couple months, and you’re already telling me you love me. It’s all just happening so fast. Too fast.”
I held my ground. “What’s too fast?”
“Your expectations, for starters. All the pressure of knowing what you want and knowing I can’t possibly give it to you. Not in the way you deserve.”
“The only expectation I have is for you to stop letting your father’s fears be your own. You’re not him, Callie. You don’t have to make his same life choices.”
With a quick jerk of her neck, her hair spilled over her shoulder. “Fine. You want to talk about family? Then let’s start by talking about Brandon.”
“What about Brandon?”
She flicked her gaze to the young couple strolling past us pushing a stroller, and lowered her voice. “You know as well as I do that he deserves a real mother. Someone like Stephanie. Someone who’s steady and consistent and parental. Someone who would sacrifice her very life to bring a child into this world.”
As if she’d just dropped a burning flare between us, I reared back a step. In all our talks about the past, about Stephanie’s illness and death, I’d never once discussed my wife’s decision to have a baby. I didn’t want Callie to think of her as a martyr—not when she’d done everything in her power to keep her conception a secret from the people who loved her most.
“How do you know about that?” But the answer was as obvious and acrid as rising smoke.
With a chastened bow of her head, she raked her fingers into her hair. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Is that where this sudden panic is coming from? Vivian came to you—said something to you? Callie, the woman has a master’s degree in manipulation. Whatever she told you is—”
“This isn’t because of her.”
“So I’m just supposed to believe that what’s happening right now is some sort of coincidence?” I kneaded my forehead between my forefinger and thumb, working to suppress my outrage over Vivian’s overstep.
Callie shook her head indignantly. “These doubts were here well before Vivian said a word to me. They were already planted in the soil, waiting to be watered.”
Anger rippled inside me. Whether the doubts were there or not, Vivian Lockwood had shown up with her watering can in hand, eager to help them grow.