Hold on to Hope

by Jackson, A. L.

  All the guys were out in the lake, segmented into two teams, throwing the football, tackling each other before a swimmer could make it to the opposite side to their goal.

  My daddy was the captain of one team.

  My uncle, Ollie, the other.

  They’d basically been trash-talking each other the entire day leading up to the big sporting event. Guessed that’s what happened when you were lifelong friends.

  Evan’s little sister, Charlotte, and Uncle Ollie and Aunt Nikki’s daughter, Becca, had both begged me to play.

  Jack was on my daddy’s team and Evan was on Uncle Ollie’s.

  You could safely say there was no chance in hell that I was gonna get in the middle of that.

  All the tents were built on the perimeter of the camp. We’d made a gathering area in the middle and up a little closer to the beach, blankets and chairs set up together with big umbrellas overhead to offer shade.

  Aunt Nikki, my mama, and Aunt Lillith were huddled around Aunt Hope where she sat on the edge of a blanket so she could watch Everett playing with some toys in the sand.

  The little boy was wearing a beach hat and little sunglasses and probably an entire gallon of sun screen, his chubby belly hanging out all over the place in his adorable swim trunks.

  I made sure to stay on the opposite end of where they were, where the summer sun beat down and I tried to pretend like I was napping while I suntanned, Milo curled up beside me. Pretended like I wasn’t affected by all of this when every second made me feel like I was getting ripped to shreds.

  I’d started to actually drift off. To relax.

  But that was impossible when I heard the direction the conversation had shifted.

  “How are you doing with all of this, Hope? I’m not the only one who thinks this is crazy, right? Is anyone else as shocked as me?” Aunt Nikki’s voice was hushed and eager, tinged with a hue of worry.

  Aunt Nikki never hesitated to say what was on her mind.

  Maybe playing football would have been a safer bet.

  Could feel Aunt Hope’s hesitation, and I cracked open a single eye, unable to stop myself from eavesdropping. Her red hair glowed around her, and she was hugging her knees to her chest, glancing between Aunt Nikki and Everett who was babbling away and dumping shovelfuls of sand into a bucket.

  “I don’t even know how I’m doing with it. I think I’m still in shock, honestly. I mean, I have a grandchild that I didn’t even know about.”

  “God, I can’t even imagine. I mean, seriously, if Bo came home with a kid, I would absolutely lose my mind.” Aunt Nikki sounded horrified by the thought. “I’d never let that boy leave his room again.”

  Her son, Bo, was barely fifteen. I sure hoped he didn’t come dragging home a baby. And if he did? I’d ground him myself. Maybe even give him a good spankin’ or two.

  “Especially after Evan has been gone for all that time and then shows back up? I’m not sure if I’d be more pissed off or relieved that he’d returned.”

  Aunt Lillith smacked her in the shoulder. “Have you not learned when to keep your mouth shut yet? This is hard enough without you stirring up bad blood.”

  Aunt Nikki shook her head and lifted her brows. “Um . . . hello, Lily Pad. We are family. And families should be talking nothing but the truth. And I’m betting that Hope here probably needs to get a few things off her chest. It’s not stirring up bad blood when I know Hope hasn’t gotten this off her mind once in three years. I think it’s about damn time we addressed it, don’t you?”

  Aunt Hope laughed a dubious sound. “Yeah, I think Nikki’s right.” She hummed for a second like she was trying to process her thoughts. “You know, it’s crazy how we could be so upset with him and brought to our knees by relief at the same time.”

  Aunt Hope fidgeted, warring with the feelings that were clearly catching up to her.

  I peeked a discrete eye her direction.

  “We’ve been so worried about him all this time . . . so worried. It’s the worst feeling in the world when your own child cuts you out of their life, but knowing for him to do it, he had to have been just as distraught? Hurtin’ in a way there was no chance I really understood? That I missed it? I . . . I feel like I failed him somewhere along the way.”

  My heart clutched, and I realized I was starting to drift that way, getting called toward her devastation, knowing I’d been a partner to it, too.

  That I understood it in every way.

  Differently, but the same.

  “There’s no chance of that,” I found myself whispering to her.

  Her attention traveled to me. Sadness and love billowed out.

  “You didn’t fail him,” I kept on. Like I could patch her up and take it away. “He just got lost somewhere along the way.”

  Lost to the fear.

  I knew it.

  I’d seen it so distinct in his eyes.

  “I know . . . I just hate I wasn’t there to help him find his way back.”

  My mama touched Aunt Hope’s knee. “Of course, you were there, Hope. Why do you think he’s here? Why do you think when he found himself in trouble, needing help, that he came right back here to you?”

  A smile wobbled at the corner of Aunt Hope’s mouth, and I was slowly sitting up, getting drawn into the conversation.

  Obviously, they all knew a whole lot more about the situation than I did, considering I’d been hiding myself away for the last three days. Not wanting to know or face it.

  My gaze dropped to the little boy.

  Everett.

  Like he felt me gazin’ at him, he curled up his little nose, making these snorting noises as he grinned.

  My spirit clutched. Nerves rattling.

  The earth unsettled.

  Somethin’ like longing filling me full.

  Shit.

  But I couldn’t turn away.

  “He’s adorable, Hope,” Mama all but whispered, reaching out and fluttering her fingertips through Everett’s hair. The little boy tilted his head back with the connection, like he was hungry for the attention.

  For the love.

  “Ehvie shovel.” He held up the yellow plastic shovel with pride.

  “I see it . . . you have a shovel, don’t you,” my mama was murmuring, still running her fingers through his hair.

  Worry filled her expression, those eyes on Aunt Hope. “Is he . . .” I saw her war, hesitate, unsure if she should address the one thing I was sure that everyone was thinking. “Is his heart okay?”

  The dread of that answer had been bumbling around somewhere in the back of my head where I hadn’t let it take shape or form.

  In that very second, it came into sharp, plain view.

  My own seized for a beat.

  Stalling out.

  I all of a sudden felt like I was suffocating.

  Worry shook Aunt Hope’s head. “We don’t know yet. Kale was able to get him into the clinic to do an examination. We got back the results of some preliminary tests, and so far, everything has been normal. He ordered a genetic workup and an appointment with the pediatric cardiologist. Even with Kale pulling some strings, it’s going to be awhile before we know anything for certain.”

  My brow pulled together. “Wait. He hasn’t been tested yet? I . . . don’t . . . I don’t understand.”

  I mean, wouldn’t they have done that the second he was born? When his mother was pregnant?

  Oh . . . that was such not a good vision . . . a young woman round with Evan’s baby. Nausea curled and I was worried I was gonna lose it right there.

  Aunt Hope frowned. “Evan just found out about Everett a week ago, Frankie.”

  She said it like she’d assumed I’d already been privy to that horrible information.

  “What?”

  My mind was wracked with so many thoughts all at once.

  With worry and dread and a hurt for this man who’d already gone through so much. I was struck with the intense urge to jump to my feet, run right through the camp, and show
all my stupid cards and hurl myself at Evan. Hold him and hug him and press my ear to his chest so I could hear the beat of his heart.

  Or maybe that urge was to pick up the child.

  To do the same.

  Protect him when no one had been there to do it.

  Silence fell over the group of them, everyone watching this kid coo and babble and drum and offer Aunt Hope a bucketful of sand like he was offering her his heart.

  That lump was back. Blocking the flow of air. I turned my attention away, to the group out in the water, which was a terrible idea, too.

  Evan was out there, the lake water lapping up by his belly button.

  A vision where the water rippled out away from him.

  The boy drenched. He lifted the football over his head to toss it to Ryland. Josiah was going in for the tackle, rushing him. Evan darted to one side to get the clear pass.

  Body slick.

  Sparkling under the shimmering light.

  Every muscle highlighted.

  Those eyes glinting beneath the glare. But he laughed.

  Laughed like there was a way to find happiness again.

  That maybe his depression hadn’t fully stolen him away.

  Burning up, I turned back to Aunt Hope, and I realized I was being blunt, but I was overcome by the crushing desperation to know. “What do you mean he didn’t know about him until a week ago?”

  Anger flashed through her expression. “Everett’s mother never told Evan she was pregnant. He never knew until she showed up at his door and left him there with him.”

  A collective gasp went up. One of them was mine.

  My eyes swung to Evan. Evan who was playing free. Like for a moment, a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. I wanted to hop up and rant and scream and track down whoever that bitch was that would up and leave her child.

  Didn’t she understand the gift she’d been given? Old feelings of abandonment crawled and shivered.

  Had to tuck my hands under my thighs to keep myself from doing something stupid like making a move for the tiny boy.

  Every cell in my body aching in the worst way.

  To love and cherish.

  Aunt Hope sighed a sound of confliction. “As angry as I am with her, I’m thankful she brought him to Evan. I guess she’s in some kind of trouble, and I’m guessing that she didn’t know Evan well enough to know about his genetic disorders to begin with. The whole thing is such a mess, and we’re still trying to sift through the details of it. We have an attorney involved.”

  My mind spun.

  This was all . . . too much. Too ugly and complicated and wrong.

  It didn’t matter if she was in trouble or not. If she understood Evan’s history or not. It was no excuse for her not tellin’ him.

  “How could she do that? Who is she?”

  Aunt Hope shook her head. “I think that’s something you’re going to have to talk with Evan about yourself, Frankie Leigh. It’s not my right to be offering those details.”

  Right.

  It was personal information.

  Private.

  Because that didn’t include me anymore.

  Distress wound and burned and stung, and I tried to gather myself up.

  This seed of anger and possession I could feel gettin’ ready to sprout.

  That needed to be snuffed out really quick.

  Sympathy filled Aunt Hope’s expression, like she was offering me an apology. Her loyalty fierce to both of us. “Evan’s gonna need support. Friends who love him most. Understand him most. I’m worried he can’t handle all of this . . . he’s been up all night, pacing like he thinks he needs to stand guard over his son. I think he’s worried he’s going to disappear as fast as he showed up. I guess now he knows exactly how it feels to fear for your child.”

  She said it like she was talking to everyone there, but she was looking directly at me, like she could see all the things rambling through my insides, the loss and the grief and that stupid love that I wanted to stamp out.

  But that was the thing about truly loving someone.

  It was unending.

  My gaze drifted out to the man.

  And I wondered if we could actually get back there.

  My best friend. My best friend.

  Maybe . . . maybe I could be there for him. For both of them.

  I just was worried I wouldn’t be able to handle it without my heart gettin’ all mangled up again.

  Oh, who was I kiddin’? It was already twisted and gnarled.

  At least maybe I could get that one piece ironed out.

  Set it to right.

  “That’s so, so good you gots a new a heart.” Her voice came out a whisper. “You want to be my best friend?”

  Because Frankie was sure Evan was her favorite, favorite.

  The memory swam while I watched Mama reach out and touch Aunt Hope’s knee again. “Blessings come in all forms of unexpected packages. And this little guy sure looks like a blessing to me. You know we’ll be there for you all.”

  Aunt Hope squeezed her hand. “I know that. And I can’t tell you how thankful we are to have you all. That we have a family that supports us like this. I’m not sure what we would have done through these years without you.”

  Love rolled.

  That deep-seated loyalty.

  I turned away, looked off into the distance toward the crash of the waterfalls, relishing in that peace while my aunts and my mama continued to talk and ask questions and offer solutions and promises of help. I got lost in it.

  The warmth and the realness.

  The goodness of it all.

  The reminder that there was hope in the darkness.

  Joy in the bleakness.

  I nearly jumped straight out of my skin when a hand landed on my shoulder. Maybe it was because it sent a streak of warmth blazing down my arm.

  Infiltrating.

  That tiny hand eliciting too many feelings that I didn’t know how to process yet somehow expected at the same time.

  Everett held onto my shoulder, bouncing on his chubby legs, angling his head around to get into my line of sight.

  “Hi!” he said with one of those grins and his tiny voice, patting at my shoulder and giving me a scrunched-up smile. And holy heck, I’d seen some adorable stuff in my life, but this little boy had gone and taken the cake.

  Joy buzzed from his tiny body.

  My chest squeezed.

  “Hi, Everett,” I murmured without any breath. I wondered if it made any sound.

  “Puppy!” His index finger flexed and extended a hundred times.

  “Yes, this is my sweet boy, Milo.” I ran my hand over Milo’s head. He dropped down onto his butt and crawled over and pressed his face into the fur of Milo’s neck.

  Milo’s tail wagged like crazy, and when Everett pulled away, Milo licked him on the face.

  Everett squealed and kicked.

  Sound of it reverberating.

  Sweet. Sweet. Sweet.

  “Ball?” Everett asked, hopping from one topic to another.

  A laugh ripped up my throat. “Oh, you remember that do you?”

  Great. Now I was goin’ to be the dessert lady. They always said you could win over any man with the promise of food. No wonder Aunt Hope had made a profession out of it.

  “Bwue ball? Ehvie, please.” He patted his chest and dipped his head down low in this adorable nod that was doing stupid things to me.

  Aunt Hope’s soft voice popped the bubble that I was gettin’ ready to float away in. “Come here, Everett. Are you hungry? Grammy will get you something to eat.”

  But he didn’t respond to her. He just crawled right on top of my lap, still on his knees, facing me.

  A direct line hooked into my spirit.

  He patted my cheeks with both hands, jabbering a slur of words that I couldn’t quite make out but completely understood. Something about a ball and his daddy and the puppy. Like a fool, I was brushing my fingers through his hair and inhaling deep and wis
hing everything didn’t hurt so bad. Whole time praying all the prayers I could find that he was fine. Healthy. That this beautiful child wouldn’t be stolen away.

  I curled an arm around him like I could stop it from happening, and then my heart rammed against my ribs when I felt the presence approach.

  Energy pulsing.

  A shockwave through the heated air.

  A shadow covered us whole.

  Obliterating.

  Penetrating.

  A cyclone of that energy speeding across the ground.

  Caught in a landslide of it, I peeked up.

  Evan’s jaw was clenched with restraint and his eyes were filled with need. Swore I could still feel the magnitude of his promise that had sent me into hiding for the last three days, unsure I could resist the pull of it.

  You belong with me.

  “Don’t get too cozy with that baby, Frankie Leigh. Think we’re not quite ready for that, yeah?” Jack’s voice hit from the side. “Don’t mind the practice, though.”

  I wanted to vomit.

  Only saving grace was the fact that Evan had been staring at Everett and me the whole time and wouldn’t have heard the profanity.

  “Yo, Jack, catch.” Josiah called him by his first name. He didn’t give him time to prepare before the football was pelting the side of his head and ricocheting off to tumble onto the sand.

  Jack’s hand flew to the spot, anger spewing out. “What the fuck, dude?”

  “Ooops, my bad,” Josiah said, lifting his hands like he hadn’t done it on purpose.

  Everett spun toward the action, pointed wildly, laughing and stamping his little feet that were chubbier than his hands. He turned to me, dramatically nodding his head and patting at his chest. “Ball! Ehvie, please, ball!”

  Oh.

  That ball.

  I started to get up to go for it, when Evan took a step forward.

  Then another.

  I was glued to the spot.

  Evan leaned down low, his chest and shoulders and those abs all up in my face.

  Damn it all if I didn’t want to paint every inch of his exposed flesh with my tongue.

  Evan angled his head, his eyes narrowed like he was having a hard time being in my space too when he reached down and picked Everett up from under his arms.

  “Come here, Chunky Monk. Daddy will play ball with you,” he murmured in that raspy voice.