“Shall we?” he asked. My smile was answer enough for him. “That was a good line, it seems as if I’ve heard it somewhere before . . .” he said, eyeing the location where I’d held his hand to me.
I smiled, remembering. “It was, wasn’t it? It was the best thing I could think of to get it through your thick head that I don’t need two hundred years to realize I’ve never wanted anything more.”
A clearing of a throat in front of us broke our smitten gazes. “You guys can ogle at one another inside here too . . . in case you want a change in scenery.”
I didn’t have to turn my eyes from William to identify who was speaking. His teasing tone would have been identifiable standing in the center of the New York Stock Exchange.
I wasn’t sure how long Patrick had been waiting for us, and hoped it hadn’t been since he’d first hopped out of the car. His uncomfortable expression and reddened face was telling that he’d probably been privy to more than William or I would have liked.
“All ready to meet the Haywards, Bryn?” Patrick asked, as we stepped through the doorway.
I nodded my head. “As ready as I’ll ever be . . . Brother.” I punched him lightly in the arm, and he mocked falling under its absent power. William’s face lit up, maybe at my casual acceptance of Patrick being my brother too . . . one day.
The inside of the weathered cedar-slat cottage was inviting, warm, and personal. The walls were plastered with framed photographs, so much so, the sky-blue color of the walls barely seeped through.
Some were old and showing their age; like the portraits you saw of great grandparents that were tucked away in attics. Some were recent, printed on silver paper. No matter the age of the picture, they all contained the same faces, although the faces remain unchanged. His face was easy to find, and in many of them. I wanted to stop and look at each one; to experience the pieces of his past, but he persuaded me forward with a tug of my hand in his.
I heard the gentle cadences of several voices coming from a room in front of us. The voices sounded cheerful and comfortable, and then the scent of baking bread—banana-nut if my carb loving nose was correct—permeated the house, and my fear and hesitation over meeting the Hayward family, diminished some.
Patrick strolled in front of us with his hands in his back pockets. He was no longer in his black suit, but had changed into a pair of faded jeans, a grey polo, and was bare footed. While I’d previously thought the black suit was fitting and natural on him, I realized, seeing him now, I’d been wrong. This look was much more Patrick. This picture was more fitting of a little brother I could imagine William having, as opposed to the confident man dressed in black who headed up John’s acquisitions department.
Patrick hadn’t been witness to the entirety of William and my episode in the driveway, as evidenced by his wardrobe change, and I was immensely gratefully for the mercy of a little brother wanting out of a stuffy suit.
William wrapped a strong arm around me, and shot one last smile of reassurance my direction before we rounded the corner into a large open kitchen, where the pleasant voices and smells were coming from.
There were four others grouped around a large dining table, and they were surveying me with as much interest and curiosity as I was them. The two females were seated next to one another, one of the males stood behind them, and the other male towered in front of the table, with arms crossed and a wary look covering his face.
I managed as warm a smile possible given the discomfort I felt from the giant of a man looming in front of me, as if positioning himself between me and the three strangers behind him.
“At ease, soldier,” Patrick chuckled, addressing the tower of a man before us. “She’s just a newbie and quite harmless.” Patrick reciprocated the light punch I’d given him. “She doesn’t even have any crazy cool gifts we’ve identified yet.” He looked at me factitiously. “Isn’t that right . . . Sister?”
I resisted the temptation to roll my eyes at him, not wanting to immediately offend his family. Patrick’s reassurances didn’t relax his brother in the slightest.
William stepped in, making the introductions. “Bryn, this is my older brother Nathanial.” He nodded at the mass of a man, still staring at me as if I was an unwelcome intruder into their happy family. He reminded me of the Incredible Hulk, at least in terms of his size and scowl—he wasn’t green, thankfully.
Nathanial didn’t nod, blink, or say anything in response. He just kept his eyes fixed on me, until one of the women got up from her chair, came around the table, and laid her hand on his arm. His eyes didn’t move from me initially, but then she whispered something in his ear and he slowly began to relax, moving his eyes to her and unfolding his arms.
William continued, “This is Abigail, Nathanial’s wife.”
Abigail looked at me as she forced a smile. “How do you do?” she said conventionally, but it was obvious she’d only mustered up this politeness out of courtesy to William. She was of average size, and had black hair that hung like a velvet curtain down to her waist. She reminded me of what one would consider timeless beauty, and next to Nathanial’s roughness, they created a picture of opposite extremes. Abigail’s eyes moved from me as quickly as she’d laid them there, and went back to her seat beside the other female.
I pressed closer into William as my discomfort grew. His arm tightened around me. This wasn’t going as well as I’d hoped.
William introduced the next male. “This is Joseph, the youngest of the brothers.” Joseph met me with an easy smile, full of acceptance and happiness. He lit up the room with it. When I looked at him fully, I gasped. He was a near clone to William.
Patrick chuckled. “Look familiar?”
I ignored him, and continued to revel over the likeness. Despite the baseball cap, it didn’t hide the nearly black hair that held a promise of wave in the way the long tufts curled at the ends. He had the same lips that were full and precisely drawn, and the same chiseled facial features—although Joseph’s were a little softer around the edges, not quite as defined as someone more senior—and while the eye shape was the same, full and deep-set, Joseph’s were dark-sapphire blue. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen when he’d been Immortalized, I guessed.
“And this is Cora, Joseph’s wife.” William motioned to the final woman sitting at the table, explaining where that shade of sapphire blue came from.
Cora was small framed, and had shoulder-length, golden-blond hair. Like Joseph, she met me with a brilliant smile, and her sapphire-colored eyes sparkled with vigor. Cora bounced up, and upon standing, I realized how much more petite she was than she’d looked sitting down. She placed a quick kiss on the side of Joseph’s cheek and danced over to where William and I stood.
“I’m so happy to see you, William.” She beamed at him, like an adoring sister would at her older brother. She gave him a hug that held nothing back, and then turned to me, wrapping her tiny arms around me with just as much completeness. “I’m so glad he found you,” she whispered before releasing me.
I looked at her puzzled—there’d been something hidden in her words I didn’t understand.
She noted my confusion, and distracted herself by reaching for the bags in William’s hand. “Let me take those. We’ll put Bryn in Patrick’s bedroom tonight.” She grinned at Patrick. “You’ll have to make due with the sofa tonight, I’m afraid,” she said, prancing off to a couple of closed doors behind us.
Patrick whined beside us, where he was sitting up on the counter riling through the kitchen cabinets, muttering to himself again, “Some kind of homecoming this is.”
William walked forward with me in tow. “Good to see you again, Nathanial. It’s been too long.”
“You say that every time,” Nathanial replied, smiling crookedly at William. With the softer expression, I was struck by how much Nathanial looked like Patrick—although much larger and scarier. Nathanial patted the side of William’s arm. “We were worried about you. It’s nice to see you again.”
William glanced over at Abigail. “Nice to see you too, Abigail. How have you been?”
I was hoping that perhaps Nathanial and Abigail’s welcome for me had been indicative of subdued personalities, but when I saw the warm smile grace Abigail’s lips at William’s greeting, I knew the cool welcome had everything to do with me. “Quite well, thank you. We’ve missed you.” Her deep blue eyes matched those of her husband’s, and I felt awkward realizing the pale blue that lingered in mine—a sign to all of my innocence.
“So this is her, huh?” Nathanial asked William, but stared pointedly at me.
“Yes,” William answered, his tone full of love and pride. “This is my Bryn. The one I’ve told you all about for so long.” His eyes looked into mine. They were full of something so wonderful it became difficult to keep my composure.
Nathanial nodded, as if understanding exactly what William had said.
“Wait!” Patrick roared behind us, jumping down from the counter and marching over to where we stood. “This is her?!” He glared with accusing eyes at William, inches away from his face.
William met his younger brother’s surprised expression with a flabbergasted one of his own. “Yes, of course this is her. Who did you think she was?”
I felt like I’d been left out of some important telling of a joke. I was present for the punch line, but none of it made sense without the prelude of the joke. What did Patrick and Nathanial mean . . . was I her?
Patrick was still gaping open-mouthed beside us, his head flying back and forth between William and me. He was making me dizzy.
Not looking like his bewilderment would abate anytime soon, William spoke up. “Nathanial, Patrick, Joseph?” They all turned their heads to him. “Could we excuse ourselves for awhile? I’d like to have your thoughts on some important matters.”
I shot him a worried look. While I figured I could make due with Cora, I was terrified to be left behind with Abigail, and her disapproval that was wrapped up in the shell of her courteous attitude.
William turned to me and ran his thumb down my cheek. “Only for a short while. I’ll be back soon.” His soft touch soothed me, giving me the kind of courage that could get me through a week alone with Abigail locked in a coat closet. “I need to speak with my brothers about a few things. Will you be alright here for awhile?”
An angelic response came from behind us as Cora flitted back into the kitchen, “Of course, she will be. I’ve got oodles of questions for you, Bryn!”
She commenced grabbing each of the brothers and pushing them towards the glass slider door which led out to the sandy shore. “Get out, go on.” She grabbed William by the cuff of his shirt and began dragging him away. He placed a hurried kiss on my lips before he was pushed through the door. Cora grabbed Joseph last, and was kind enough to give him a sweet kiss before she scooted him out the door with a smack on his backside.