“God Almighty, what the hell did I get myself into?” Brady whispered. And then he laughed. “You bring them over in your own time. We’ll see what we can do. I’ve got a lot of weeding they can help me with.”
“One’s just barely walking, and my little girl’s three. You’re not going to put them to work yet?”
Brady patted him on the back, disentangled himself from both of his buddies, and said to Riley, “Don’t push me. You’d be surprised what a three-year-old can do.”
Cassie had brought over one of her friends from the bakery where she used to work. She was a pretty girl, and Brady got the implication immediately they all believed it was time for him to start dating again. As the evening wore on, Brady was very attentive and gentlemanly, but when it got close to ten o’clock, he told the crowd that he was tired, and he needed to go to bed.
He shook everybody’s hand, hugged everybody he thought appropriate, gave a small peck on the cheek to the pretty baker from town, and thanked everyone for the warm welcome. Cassie had made some leftovers and stored them in his refrigerator. The boys had bought four cases of beer and left them on the countertop. They informed him Tate had been fed and left his remaining food in the refrigerator and in the garage.
Brady closed the door behind them, surveyed his house, and then retired to the couch where Tate took up his post right next to him.
“God, it’s good to be home. Tomorrow, when we can see, we’ll check how bad it is out there. No sense spoiling this nice night.”
Tate laid his snout on Brady’s stomach, giving him an adoring stare.
Chapter 19
As the weeks flew by, Brady consumed himself with making repairs and putting his garden back in order. Weeds had grown to nearly waist high. A leak had formed in the drip irrigation, which created a muddy puddle. His chickens, probably because nobody fed them regularly, had either flown off or been captured by coyotes. His grow wilted and looked like it got infested with spider mites or something coming from the woods. He was surprised nobody took the crop, but he understood it probably didn’t look very desirable, either. He spent a day ripping everything out and decided he was done producing the CBD oil.
He didn’t want to be tied down to the property so that he couldn’t leave ever again. He liked the fact he could put in things and walk away and then come back and find them relatively the same way when he left. Weeds would always grow, irrigation systems would always fail, but he didn’t want anybody invading his space or taking care of animals that were overly needy. He was done with all that. There had been a time in his life when it was important he serve his own land, and now he was going to let his land serve him.
He got a call from his mysterious benefactor, requesting he have a meeting with Maggie. She explained to him Maggie had reached out to her several times, and she hadn’t wanted to bother him, so she waited until Maggie called one more time. The woman said she could arrange a neutral place for them to meet, if he wanted. Or, if he was okay with it, she could give Maggie Brady’s address and invite her to stop by.
Brady paused. This was the moment he knew was coming, eventually. He’d realized he would have to make that decision one day or another, and he decided he would extend the invitation to meet her to talk.
“I’m not saying she can stay over. I’m saying I’m willing to meet her, here or somewhere else. But she used to live in San Diego, and it might be more convenient to meet her there later. I’m not ready to do that yet. But if she wants to come here, I’ll allow it.”
“Let me suggest an alternative. What if you came down to San Diego and took that little cottage for a few days? We would allow Tate to come with you. Maybe that would be a neutral place to meet, so it wouldn’t feel like you had to entertain her?”
Brady thought about that, and perhaps he could be ready. Besides, after all the hard work he’d put in, he could take a few days at the beach to just kick back.
“Okay, if you set it up, I’ll drive down there, and we can have our talk. But make it clear, this is not an overnight thing. I need time to process everything that went on. And I’m sorry if that hurts her. I just need to feel like I’m whole inside before I can start opening that door to friendship again.”
“I think that’s very wise, Brady. I’ll arrange it and give you the details.”
Brandy had thought, with the passage of time, Maggie would want to just move on with her life. He couldn’t imagine she’d want to relive any of the past, especially the immediate past. She had the chance for a fresh start. So he hadn’t been expecting the reach out.
But it did make him wonder why she was so insistent on the meet-and-greet. He didn’t think there was anything unresolved or anything that had to be said, and he knew eventually, when things weren’t so charged, he’d attend some wedding or funeral or gathering, and she’d be there, and they could talk. That’s what he’d figured the future looked like.
In the meantime, he’d be looking to find his next adventure. Not an adventure in warrior terms, but an adventure of the heart. He’d never thought of himself as having a great capacity, but he remembered the story about his friend and his wife and the butterfly. And he decided that, although he was ready to stop being a warrior, maybe he wasn’t ready to give up being a partner. He liked his buddies, and he could see a place in his home and his heart for someone else again.
He just wasn’t sure it was Maggie.
On a chilly December day, he and Tate began the trek down to San Diego. They stayed at his favorite midway rest stop, and both ate enormous steaks. Tate sat right next to him on the bench with his own bowl, enjoying the laughter of people in the restaurant as they passed by and saw him there. Then he and Tate made it back into the cab, found a hotel, and rested.
The next morning, the clouds had cleared trailed behind them as they trekked the additional six hours to San Diego. He used his GPS on his brand-new phone, courtesy of the lady, and tracked the little house south of the city in a semi-residential area, dotted with mom-and-pop stores and away from the glitzy beaches and boats of San Diego. It was his kind of place, filled with sand dunes and warm breezy nights. That was one thing he missed living Northern California. The nights were too damn cold!
The house was small, only two bedrooms. Inside, it had been restored but not fully remodeled. Someone had redone the kitchen in knotty pine cabinetry, re-installed retro style Formica, and added old-fashioned aluminum trim, giving the whole place a “back to the 60s” look. It suited him very well. All the furniture inside was generous, overstuffed. There were lots of throws and comforters and a big stone fireplace in the living room with picture windows on both sides of it so you could watch the fire and the waves at the same time.
“Somebody paid close attention to that detail,” he said to Tate.
A few staples had been left for him, and a plate of sandwiches waited in the refrigerator covered in plastic. He peeked and grabbed one, handing the other half to Tate who declined.
“You don’t like tuna fish, do you?”
About an hour after he had unloaded, he heard a car drive down the driveway. Checking through the lace curtains by the front door, he recognized Maggie in the driver’s seat, but she had someone else with her in the back.