Karen Smith - The Bracelet

He didn’t respond and she recognized the fact that he couldn’t.

Because the sight of Brady like this was so overwhelming, because she had to stay and touch him, yet felt he wasn’t really here, she sank into memories again, desperately wanting to escape the complications of everything happening now, to be anywhere else with Brady.

All over again it was May 1969. Each day that month had brought her and Brady closer. Each day had shown her how much he cared.

After Aunt Marcia had ordered her to rent a place of her own, Laura had gone to the address on the slip of paper her aunt had thrust at her. She’d found a boardinghouse that smelled like sour cabbage. As the landlady had taken her to the second floor, a disheveled man had opened his door and leered at her. When Mrs. Treedy had told her she’d be sleeping on the third floor with another “gentleman” across the hall from her, Laura had made her escape.

On her return to her aunt’s, she’d found a note:

I’ll be back around five. I put some boxes in your room for you to start packing. See you later.

Aunt M.

Laura had replaced the note on the red Formica table but had brought the Sunday paper with her to the sofa. Sinking onto it, she’d told herself she was not going to cry. She was twenty. She was old enough to be on her own. She’d get extra hours of work somehow or add another job. And she’d find a place better than Mrs. Treedy’s.

About three o’clock, a car pulled up outside. Brady hadn’t said anything about getting together again. He’d been silent the night before as he’d driven her home. Today was the dinner at his uncle’s with his family, then he’d be headed back to school. Maybe he’d call her before he left. Maybe he wouldn’t. She had the feeling he was embarrassed about last night. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing to be embarrassed about.

She sensed rather than heard the footsteps on the porch and realized she was holding her breath when the bell rang. Running to the door, she broke into a full smile. It was Brady.

“Are you busy?” His tone was nonchalant, but his hands dug deep into his jeans pockets.

“I thought you were having dinner at your uncle’s.”

“I was…I did…but I needed to see you.”

She opened the screen door and motioned him inside. “Aunt Marcia’s not here. I…need to talk to you, too.”

He saw the paper spread out on the sofa, the black circles around ads. “What’s going on?”

“You wanted to talk about something.”

Now he shifted uncomfortably. “Actually I don’t really want to. I’d rather forget all about last night. You must think I’m a coward.”

When she clasped his arm, she looked him in the eyes. “I don’t think that. I’d never think that. There’s nothing wrong with feelings, Brady. Last night, you felt everything that’s been piling up inside. You have every right to be scared.”

He winced at the word and protested, “I’m not scared. I know what I have to do.”

For a moment he studied her, then he took her hand and pulled her to the sofa. When they were seated, facing each other, he ran his hand down her cheek. “I don’t let anybody see what you saw last night. Don’t you get that?”

She rubbed her cheek against his large strong hand. “You can be who you are with me. You don’t have to pretend. I want to know you. Last night, I felt closer to you than I’ve ever felt to anyone.”

Wrapping his arm around her, he drew her against him on the sofa. He tilted his head against hers and they just sat there, their bodies touching, just like their hearts.

A few minutes later, he motioned to the newspaper. “So tell me what this is all about.”

It seemed so natural to pour out everything to him. “When I got in so late last night, Aunt Marcia was up. She said I have to move. She gave me this address for a rooming house and I went there this morning. Oh, Brady, it was awful!” Her voice quivered as she told him about the condition of the place, the man in the hall, the attic rooms.

“You’re dead-on you’re not staying there. I don’t want you anywhere around a creep like him.”

She pointed to the paper. “I have about ten possibilities circled here. I probably shouldn’t call on a Sunday, but I’m going to. I have to find a place as soon as possible. Aunt Marcia put boxes in my room—”

Brady pushed himself from the sofa and rose to his feet.

“What’s wrong?”

He headed for the kitchen. “I’m going to make a call.”

“Who are you calling?”

“No questions yet. Just give me a couple of minutes, okay?”

She gave him about ten minutes, and privacy, too. If whatever he was trying to do for her didn’t work out, she didn’t want her disappointment to show.

When he returned to the living room, he was grinning. “Let’s take a ride.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

At that moment, she’d follow him anywhere.

Fifteen minutes later, Brady had veered off North George Street, down an alley and into a small parking lot in back of a flower shop.

“Are we window-shopping for flowers?” she asked, not understanding at all what they were doing here. She’d heard of Blossoms, a shop with a wonderful reputation, especially for providing wedding flowers. Last year on her aunt’s birthday, she’d had a small arrangement delivered to her.

“It’s my mother’s shop,” Brady explained with a hint of pride.

“Your mother owns Blossoms?” His mom had talked about working with flowers, but Laura hadn’t realized she owned her own shop.

“Yep. But it’s not the flower shop we’re interested in today. Come on.”

He was out of the car and around to her door before she could even open it. When he took her hand, she followed him to the back door of the store, thinking they were going inside. But they weren’t. Instead they started up the stairs to the second floor. On the small porch, he produced a key and opened the door.

When they stepped inside, Laura saw trellises and plant stands. Then she noticed the sink, small refrigerator and gas range. “It’s a kitchen.”

“This apartment was here when Mom bought the shop. She rented it for a few years but then decided the renters were more trouble than they were worth. She’s been storing odds and ends here. So when I told her about your aunt kicking you out because I brought you home too late—”

“Brady, that’s not the reason. She’s just using it as an excuse.”

“I know that, but I wanted to keep things simple. Anyway, I asked Mom if she’d consider renting it to you. She said she would if—” he stopped and gave her a mischievous grin “—if I convince my brothers to help me move everything out of here.”

“But where will you put it all?”

“Mom’s going to pick out what we should take downstairs to her storage room. The rest she said she might donate to the Salvation Army. The apartment isn’t very big—just a kitchen, a bedroom with a sitting area and a bath….”

As Laura peeked into the other room, her chest felt tight. “Brady, it’s wonderful. But I’m not certain I can afford this.”

“Mom said you could pay whatever you were going to pay for the room in that boardinghouse.”

That wasn’t nearly enough. “Maybe I could help your mom in the shop when I’m not working at the store.”

“I’m sure she’d like that, especially during her busy times. It really gets crazy at Christmas, Valentine’s Day, Easter—most of the holidays.”

Jubilant over the idea of having an apartment of her own, she threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

His fingers laced in her long hair. “I think I do.”