Page 30 of Love Bound

"Do you want to see more pictures of The Inn?" she asks. She glances at the table where there's a flurry of activity, and overrides my concern that food is imminent. "We have time. Look." She points to an entire hall wall decorated in eight-by-tens of the property I bought.

The pictures are blurry but beautiful. The Inn, in its heyday, was quite an establishment. White with black shutters, hanging baskets of flowers, large porch furniture. In every one of them, there are the girls working, holding pans of sweet rolls or muffins, or with a bundle of sheets nearly as big as they were at the time. Well, three of the girls. Claire is hardly in any of them. She must have been helping her dad in the clinic.

As I move down the hall, Devon flips on the light. A black boy appears in the photos, running and, in one shot, with something lumpy and large on his head. I point and peer closer.

"Mom had just bought us a package of new underwear and Travis decided to put every pair on his head. That's my brother." She grins. "If only his girlfriends knew."

For a split second, I'm confused, and then I get it. Travis is not Geo's son. A bit embarrassed, I realize this must happen all the time. Trying to change the subject so she won't see my blunder, I veer into uncharted territory. "What happened to Chloe?"

Devon's grin disappears. "We don’t really talk much about it."

That's when the wall comes down. I've learned not to push people when they aren’t ready, and this family is still dealing with the trauma of losing both parents. Not going there. Mine are both still alive and living in Sheffield, England.

Cory's head pops around the corner of the hall. "Time for Thanksgiving."

Geo sits at the head of the table, an honor he clearly enjoys. Lucky for me, Travis has been gone long enough that most of the conversation is about his first year at vet school.

The Burkes talk a bit about their grandchildren, and I try not to look at Claire. She sits across from me, but it’s not a strategic move on her part. Cory had told everyone where to sit, so it wasn’t up to her. But I can barely stay focused on my food.

Travis and Devon carve the turkey, mashed potatoes are served, gravy passed around, green bean casserole, relish, sweet potatoes, and then, I am overcome with grief. Everyone seems so happy, so ready to listen and be listened to, and I can’t even really picture Allison here. She was shy and introverted, someone who needed things. Needed people. Needed me.

Pretending to get a phone call, I rise and go into the bathroom for privacy. After placing both hands on the sink, I lean down and take a deep breath. Nic keeps saying I have to let her go. But how can I? She died because of me. Because of what I could not see. I can’t love like that again, it’s just too hard. Maybe giving up on this piece of land is part of letting go. Letting her dream and the dream of her both go.

I wipe my face and head back out. Everyone is on seconds and now Claire is watching me. I can feel her gaze.

"I have an announcement," I say, still standing, lifting a knife to my water glass. Everyone is quiet. "Your friend, Geo here, and I met a few weeks ago. And he explained a few things to me, things I didn’t really understand until then, and really until now."

Laurel holds Cory very still. I guess he hadn’t liked the chiming.

"I don’t want the land," I say, and there's an audible gasp from someone. Not Claire. "Or the building. I just want good neighbors." I shrug. "To be a good neighbor."

I keep telling myself that’s the right thing to say. "Neighbor" seems like a commitment at this point.

The rest of the evening goes by in a blur of bad jokes, one burned finger on the woodstove when Geo tries to toss in another log, a long discussion of where the lobster have disappeared to, what restaurants would stay open on the mainland and how they'd rotate, and then it turns back to me.

"When do you want to open?" asks Emily, holding a forkful of mashed potatoes up to her mouth.

"I'm not sure. It's pretty much just me, so not this summer I don’t think. Maybe fall."

Devon shakes her head. "Can’t open in the fall."

And Claire, for the first time this evening speaks directly to me, "You gotta open in May. With the advertising cycles and everything, you have to time it for late spring. Otherwise, you'll never get any beds."

I must look perplexed because Devon adds, “People with reservations.”

"I’ll work there," says Cory.

Laurel laughs. "What will you do?"

"I’ll work there," he says more strongly, his entire little body tense as Laurel moves to lock him in a tight embrace.

Autism. He's autistic.

I hold my breath for a moment. "You will work there Cory, " I say. "And you will work hard."

Saying nothing, Cory starts trying to butt his head against his mom. She tries to hold him back with one hand while clasping him close with the other in a very real yin and yang parenting moment.

I think back to the stable. "You can sweep the porch and make sure there's no sand."