The Homecoming (Thunder Point #6)(23)

Seth loved that man. There he sat, a brace holding up his head, gesturing with one hand, immobile and in relatively poor health, yet he’d turned his infirmity into his opportunity. He’d grown closer to his wife and his kids, developed close relationships with his grandkids. If he could do that with a body that didn’t function anymore, how could Seth admit defeat?

“When did you get so smart? So wise?” Seth asked him.

“What the hell else you think I got to do with my time?” Oscar said. Then he smiled.

* * *

Iris didn’t see Seth all week and it was a good thing for her psyche. She’d spent years nurturing the anger she’d felt toward him and the one thing she hadn’t expected was that he would be devastated by the truth. There was no denying it. He was shattered to think what he’d done to her. For some reason she had expected him to blow it off, the way he’d blown off the prom incident when they were seventeen.

The other thing she’d expected was that he’d get in touch with her and try a new approach to his apology, but that didn’t happen, either. It took great strength of will to keep from looking for him. She knew he stayed at the office every day until five or later and there were lots of places she could run into him. Though she didn’t want to, she kept her eyes open for his car at his mother’s house, but it wasn’t there. The weekend was especially hard because she wasn’t busy at school. The only thing that kept her from reaching out was that she wasn’t quite sure what to say. Never mind, it’s okay? I’m over it, we were young and dumb? Let’s pretend we’ve never met before and see if we’re friends now?

She had no idea what followed confrontation. Hang on to the rage? Let it go and never speak of it again? Apologize for the honesty?

When she got home from school on Monday afternoon there was a basket of the biggest, most beautiful apples she’d ever seen on the porch in front of her door. There was a bow on top but no note. The next day there was a wreath for her front door made out of fall leaves, pine cones, dried flowers and wheat stalks. On Wednesday there was a box holding a beautiful white knit scarf. Thursday brought a tin of cookies in the shape of fall leaves, iced in yellow, orange, red and brown. On Friday came a horn of plenty filled with gourds, oranges, grapes and nuts. This time there was a note. She opened the small envelope and read the neatly printed card. “Dinner tonight at Cliffhanger’s at seven. My treat.”

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.