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Chapter Eighteen
Phoebe
The smell surrounded me.
Strawberries. Everywhere.
We stood in front of a greenhouse door Julian opened to reveal rows of vines spilling over with the overripe fruit.
Memories flooded my mind in still frames—pictures of my mother and an eight-year-old me, her hair reflecting in the sun, the strands of copper within the chestnut curls almost blinding me. Her laughter, high-pitched and soothing, telling me I had red handprints all over my shirt. They flashed forward to images of us sitting between the rows of plants—an overflowing bucket of berries in front of us—discussing my first broken heart and how to heal from it. Her calming voice reassured me it would mend, and each broken heart would make me stronger, until one day I’d find that one love who would shield it from shattering ever again.
The last image lingered. A girl on the edge of womanhood, embarking on a new life alone. That girl and I were mirror images in time.
Julian recreated my mother’s strawberry field. Staring straight ahead, an avalanche cascaded down my face. “How? God…h-h-h-how?”
He moved behind me, answering in a low tone. “How did I find a strawberry patch in March?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“This is California, princess. None of that outdoor natural shit here. Everything is organic and hydroponic. It took a few phone calls, that’s all.”
Through the tears, a smile crept across my face. “Why?”
He moved closer, his breath fanning across my neck. “Because this means a lot to you.”
“That was a different time and place, Julian,” I protested, still unable to process the scene before me. “It was between a mother and child.”
His voice hushed. “It still is, princess.”
The words prompted me to turn around. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t you get it, Phoebe? It is between a mother and child. The child just doesn’t know it yet.”
With that simple statement, all his reasoning and intention made sense. He’d rekindled the strawberry field tradition, only it was my turn to be the mother. It was a new day, and I finally understood he’d given me a way to keep my mother alive.
He held out his hand, a bucket dangling from his crooked fingertip. “Now, I’m no strawberry picking expert, but I’m pretty sure they aren’t going to jump into the bucket themselves. Are you ready?”
I nodded. Taking the bucket from his outstretched hand, I walked inside the greenhouse. As a thought entered my head, I stopped abruptly. “Julian, I don’t know if I can do this in front of other people.”
“That won’t be a problem.”
“What did you do—rent the whole greenhouse for the day?”
His eyes held me captive in their stare. “Yes.”
“What?”
“I paid the owner to shut it down for the day. No one is here, Phoebe. It’s just you and me.”
“Isn’t that some kind of health code violation? I mean, the producer can’t exactly market his product if we’ve manhandled it.”
He laughed and shrugged unapologetically. “One thing I’ve learned since being in this business, princess—money talks. Trust me, I’ve paid the man enough we could destroy the entire patch and he’d still be in the black.”
“I can’t believe you did this.”
“Why? All I want is my New York Phoebe back. At the beach, I knew you needed this part of your life to be happy.”
I grinned. “You’re pretty proud of yourself, huh?”
