Page 31 of Yours Truly, Fall

“I appreciate that, but I want to be as⁠—”

“As professional as you can. I get it. I get it.” I exhale a sigh. Convincing her to relax wasn’t on my agenda, but it’s moved up a list I didn’t know existed to priority number one. “You are professional without being unapproachable. It’s nice.”

With a little elbow, she says, “That’s a very kind thing to say.” Dragging the phone closer to her, she taps the screen to show a field of flowers as her background wallpaper. “Time is slipping by. I didn’t realize the hour.”

“It flies when you’re having fun.” I grin, evoking one from her as well. “Where was that photo on your phone taken?”

“My family’s property down on the cove.” Her eyes glisten as if a memory is attached, carrying some hefty weight. “It’s one of my favorite places in the world.”

“Other than the beauty, why is that?”

Her gaze shifts into the treetops as a smile takes hold of her again. “It brings me peace when everything is chaotic.” Angling her face toward me, she pockets the phone and tilts her head, letting her hair flow down over one shoulder. “Everything in my life seems to be chaotic lately.” With an inward laugh, her gaze drops between us. When she looks up again, she asks, “Do you really want to know this stuff? I’m really boring.”

“You’re not boring at all to me. And I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t interested.”

Studying my face, she finally reaches my eyes again. “My mom used to take me out there. We’d have picnics, just the two of us. I could tell her anything without other people eavesdropping, which was common practice with all my sisters. Everyone was in everyone else’s business. We kind of still are. You know how siblings can be.”

“My brother gave me hell growing up.”

That spark in her eyes tells me she gets it. “Same. We love each other more than anything, but there were times I wished I was an only child. Once when I got a haircut while I was sleeping. Another time, I found my diary on my bed with a bookmark marking the page where someone left off.” Another laugh bubbles through her. “They didn’t even try to hide the violation. But my mom always made me feel better.”

The punch to the gut comes fast when I remember her family. How did I not piece her and the Seasons together sooner? I feel sick for her. I turn toward the trees, watching the leaves blowing in the breeze, and whisper, “I’m sorry about your parents. I didn’t mean to bring up anything to upset⁠—”

“You didn’t upset me. It upsets me more that nobody really brings them up anymore. It used to be that we couldn’t go anywhere without someone, or a lot of people, stopping us to tell us stories about our parents that would bring a smile to their face, and ours. We learned so much about them through the eyes of others. But now, those voices have become a low hum like white noise. It’s always there, but it’s hard to hear unless you’re listening for it.”

“People probably assume you’ve heard it all and don’t want to make you sad by mentioning them.”

“It makes me sad thinking they’ve been forgotten with time.” She rubs her finger along her forehead and over one temple. “Or worse, the topic of them being tiptoed around like they never existed.”

“They’re not forgotten. Everyone remembers them fondly, Autumn.”

She rests her arms on the wood rail next to mine and taps her sneaker gently against my foot. “Thanks. I like remembering them. I like talking about them.” Her smile is still there, but it’s for her and her parents the way its edges are tipped in softness. She pulls something from her pocket and sets it on the wide rail between us. “My mom gave this to me. She carried it for good luck.” She runs her finger over the raised metal of the bluebird. It’s aged with a patina the way only years of exposure to life and the elements create, and the shiny belly of the bird from often rubbing it. Peeking up at me, she says, “She gave it to me the day she died.”

A lot could be said about that last part, but I’m sure as shit not going to say it. I keep my eyes on the coin instead. “It’s nice you have it.”

“She called it her lucky bluebird but told me she wasn’t giving it to me for luck. She was giving it to me as a reminder.” Grasping it in her hand, she closes her fingers around it and tucks it in her pocket. “This is a lot. I, um . . .” She takes a long and slow breath. It’s the minutest of nods, but I catch it as it satisfies a different emotion that almost took over. “I think we should keep the focus on your healing, not mine.”

“Maybe we both walk away in a better place.”

Her smile shines, easily more beautiful than the setting sun, which is pretty damn spectacular.

“Anyway,” she says, “these flowers bloom near our house every spring and through the summer.”

“I know summer is over, but are they still blooming?”

“A few are still hanging on.”

I stand upright, rolling my shoulders to stretch my muscles. “Maybe you can show me before they’re gone.”

“I didn’t take you for a flower guy.”

“I’m not. I’m a get-to-know-Autumn guy.”

A pause begins to extend before she laughs and pokes me in the abs. “Your charms won’t work on me, Lieutenant.” Walking back to the house, she says, “I’m going to start dinner.”

“It’s already in the oven.”

Stopping, she looks back, impressed, judging by her raised brow and a slight grin hanging onto one side of her mouth. “You really are a charmer, but I’m here to take care of you, not the reverse.”