by Rue Volley
He sighed. “I want the mansion.”
“I don’t blame you. It’s gorgeous. What was the second thing?”
He tapped the back of the phone with his finger, and I could hear it.
“You, just you, Abigail Watson.”
I almost dropped the phone for the second time as his words cut their way into my heart.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
ALL ROADS LEAD TO HOME
__________________________
I watched my mom as she turned the steaks on the grill. The smell was intoxicating. She took a swig of her dark beer and then toasted me from where she stood. I toasted her right back, lifting my lager and smiling. We still hadn’t discussed the inevitable. I had known about Peter dying for hours and I just couldn’t talk to her about it, not yet. I think I actually needed some more alcohol in me.
Maybe she did too. It would help soften the blow.
Avery sat next to me, on a long lawn chair and was still reading the book. She lowered it.
“Whoa.”
I turned and shook my head. “What now?” she had been coming across revelation after revelation all day.
“It says that we think with our kitties, just like men can think with their dicks. I totally do that sometimes. I just never realized how in charge she was, until now.”
I laughed as Sam walked out onto the deck. “By she, you mean your pierced friend.”
She nodded. “Oh yeah, I think she may have always been in charge, that would explain so much about me, Abi.”
He opened his beer and took a long drink, toasting me. I grinned. It was like old times, and I loved it. “Who?” he asked. Avery raised a hand. “Don’t ask, trust me,” I said to him.
“My vagina,” Avery said as she opened the book and went back to reading.
Sam choked on his beer and lowered it, glancing at me and then back to her.
I shook my head, and he didn’t pursue it any further.
“So, did you tell her?” Sam asked, switching gears like a pro.
The confusion on my face was warranted. “What?”
Avery sat up. Her ice pack shifted and she hissed, while trying to adjust it. “What—tell me what?”
Sam grinned. He’s a brat sometimes. “Abi asked me to go into business with her.”
“What? OH MY GOD! And why didn’t I know about this?”
I looked at her and handed her another beer, she tapped her nails on the side of it and took a drink, eyeing me the whole time.
“I just—it’s something that I thought about before I came home. I think I want to try to work for myself.”
“Ask Jack! He has more money than God. He would totally fund you.”
I looked down and then back over at her. “No, I’m going to take out a loan, with Mom’s help, I hope.”
I looked at my mom and Sam stepped up next to me and bumped me from the side. “No, you already have an investor.”
I narrowed my eyes and looked at him. “I said no. I’m not going to ask Jack.”
“No, me, Abi. Me.”
Avery tapped the book against her chest and leaned back, enjoying the show as it unfolded.
“I didn’t ask you so that you would toss money into this, Sam.”
He sighed, then took another drink. “I know that you didn’t ask me, but, to be honest, I was thinking about the same thing. I mean, about going into business for myself.”
Avery sat up. “Wait, what happened to your job in New York?”
Sam and I looked at her, and we both spoke in unison. “Jack.”
She laughed. “Oh yeah.”
Sam and I laughed. “Let me show you something.”
I looked at my mom and then at Avery. “Okay, but make it quick, I’m starving, and that steak smells so good.”
“I agree. It’ll be fast, I promise.”
He set his beer down and took my hand, we walked through the house and out the front door. He led me to the end of the sidewalk where he stopped. I stared out at the town. New Weston sat in a valley, and the house sat up on the hill, so it was easy to see downtown from our front yard.
“Look.”
I stared at the town and then raised my hands. “New Weston in all of its glory.”
“No, there,” he pointed and I squinted my eyes, staring at the shops downtown.
“Okay, what am I missing?”
He turned to face me.
“There’s a building downtown, it used to house a t-shirt shop and they moved, it’s—well, it would be a perfect spot for a paper. It’s three stories with a finished basement.”
I looked back downtown and saw it. I remembered the building. “Oh, man.”
“Oh man, good? Or oh man, bad?”
I squealed as I hugged him. “Perfect, seriously, you are perfect.”
“So I’ve been told.”
I stepped back from him and then it hit me, if I started a business here, then New York would never be home.
“And, you could split your time if you wanted to. I mean between here and New York, if you wanted to, because of him, of course.”
I looked up at him. I rubbed the stitches on my wrist. “Sam, I don’t know what to say, I really don’t. I’m just so overwhelmed.”
“Come here.”
I stepped into his arms. The hug felt so natural and at ease.
“This is all one big conspiracy to win you over, don’t fall into my elaborate trap,” he whispered.
“Sam, thank you. I mean that.”
“I know that you do, Abi. I know.”
“I just can’t believe that after everything, this is where I ended up.”
He grinned, looking down at me. “All roads lead to home.”
I nodded as I wiped a tear away from my cheek.
“Yeah, they do, Sam, they do.”
We ate like Vikings. I laughed as Avery wiped Sam’s cheek with her napkin, and I had to wipe my own. Mom was so good at cooking that it was frightening. If only I had inherited that from her. My skills included popcorn, coffee, and the occasional piece of toast.
Mom stood up and smiled. “I’m going to enjoy the night air,” She walked to the front door. I leaned back and sighed. I knew that I needed to tell her about Peter, but I hated the thought of it.
I stared at her out the window. She rocked on the porch swing, her bare feet up and staring out at the night sky. I walked to the door and glanced back at Avery and Sam while they laughed at the table.
It was time. She needed to know.
I stepped out and let the door close quietly behind me. She turned, a smile came across her face, and she lowered her feet. She tapped the porch swing, and I joined her. She wrapped the blanket around my shoulders and put her arm around me.
“Sam told me about the paper. I couldn’t be happier.” She looked in the window and saw him laughing with Avery. Avery was acting out the ridiculous story about her piercing. I took a breath and looked down. “And so is Sam. You did good honey.”
I nodded and pushed my hair behind my ear. I turned to her and took the blanket off.
She squared her shoulders. “What is it?”
“I have to tell you something, Mom.”
She watched me, the serious expression on her face didn’t help ease the tension that I felt. She knew that I had something on my mind.
“Oh honey, what is it? Are you late? Is your period late?”
I looked up at her. “Oh, no. No, I’m not. I—I spoke with Jack earlier. I hadn’t since we—well, since I ran off with him for a day.”
“Did it go okay?”
“Yeah, I mean, no.”
She adjusted on the porch swing. “Spill it, now you have me worried.”
“So did you win with the cobbler?”
She tilted her head. “Are you seriously switching topics on me? I hate that, your dad would do the same thing like he was flashing a bright light and trying to distract me.”
I paused. She leaned toward me. “Yes, I beat Lilyanne, now talk to me.”
“That’s great. I’m so glad that you won, Mom.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Abigail.”
I nervously fidgeted with my hands. She placed hers over mine. It stopped me.
“What? Just tell me, Abi.”
“Peter is dead, Mom. He died.”
She let go of my hands and touched her lips. She stood up and walked to the railing and held onto it. I didn’t know what to expect, so I stood up and walked up next to her. If she wanted to scream, I was there for her, if she wanted to cuss, I would listen. If she wanted to cry, then I would cry with her, whatever she wanted to do.
Then she started laughing. It was quiet at first, and it quickly turned into a loud laughter.
“Mom, are you having a stroke?”
She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at me. “Oh, honey. He told me that I would laugh when he died. He told me that I would hold my sides, laughing so hard about his passing, and I said, no, Peter, I won’t do that,” she slapped the banister. “I will not laugh, I will cry for you, you bastard.”
She walked across the porch and started to pace like I do. Now I knew where I got it.
She stopped and snapped her fingers. “I have to go to the funeral.” She tilted her head, staring at me. “I should go, right? I don’t even know!”
I walked up to her as she paced. I took her hand. She stopped and looked at me. Her face became somber.
“I don’t know if I have anything to wear.”
I hugged her. “They sell clothing, Mom. If you wanna go then you can go, and we will find you something to wear, okay?”
She nodded, and then she trembled a little bit. I held onto her, and the sobbing began. The reaction that I expected, the emotional release of years of pent-up feelings. She buried her face into my shoulder.
The only thing I could think about was how I would feel if I lost Jack and how she never cried like this when my dad died.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CAN’T HAVE ONE WITHOUT THE OTHER
__________________________
I watched as my mom tossed dress after dress out of her walk-in closet. Telling me that she had nothing to wear was untrue. She had tons of clothing now, stuff that I would have never imagined her wearing, but she had changed so much that the shock wore off quickly.
I was starting to get used to this new woman in front of me. I appreciated her and most importantly, I wanted to support her.
I knew that her appearance at the funeral may be odd, but I would stand at her side. I couldn’t tell her that it may be a bad idea, she wanted to go. It wasn’t up to me to deny her that, but I couldn’t help what may happen with Victoria.
I didn’t know the whole story. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to know.
Meeting Peter had left a bad taste in my mouth, but what memories of Peter did my mom have? Who was I to judge her when I didn’t want to be judged about how I felt about Jack? It would be hypocritical of me.
She stopped and picked out a black cocktail dress that must have been buried in the back of her closet. She held it to her chest and then turned to face me.
“I wore this to your dad’s funeral, should I? I just don’t know. Maybe I should buy something new, this is so inappropriate.”
I sat on the bed and rubbed the tops of my legs. I had shed the usual sweatpants and traded them up for leggings. I stood up and stared at the dress in her hands.
“I remember that dress.”
She looked down at it. “Oh, honey. I should have left it in the closet¸ I’m sorry. I’m a mess.”
I walked toward her and stopped her from walking back into the closet. I took the dress from her and held it up.
“The truth is that you had two men in your life, my dad and Peter Landon. I have no doubt that you loved them both. If you want to bury them in the same dress, then do it. That’s your choice and no one else’s.”
She looked into my eyes, and her expression became more relaxed. “You remind me so much of him.”
I handed the dress back to her, and she turned and hung it on the door. She turned back to me, her smile was small, but enough to let some of her inner light shine through.
“I take that as a compliment.”
She paused and then took my hand. She walked to the bed and sat down while I stood next to her. She nodded to me, and I sat down, not sure as to what she wanted to say to me.
“Your dad and I had a very unique relationship.”
I crossed my legs. Talking about him made me feel so restless. I couldn’t help it, he was more than a dad to me. He had been a friend and mentor. Everything that I could have hoped for in a parent. Mom had always been a bit more distant, stern, and careful. She leveled me out when dad was the free spirit.
Together they were the perfect parent to me, combined into one.
Her new found freedom reminded me so much of him. He would have loved her this way just as much as I do.
“I know that he knew about—well, Peter and the baby.”
She looked down and rubbed the top of my hand. Then she looked back up at me.
“It was more than that, much more.”
I crinkled my brow, trying to understand what she meant.
“What, Mom? What do you mean?”
She sighed, letting my hand go and standing up. She walked to the window and looked out across the field and into the horizon. The sun lit up her hair and skin. She was so beautiful, stunning. I always thought so. Even before her transformation.
The clogs, the gardening hat, the Mom jeans. None of it changed how pretty she was, inside and out. She just had a natural beauty that radiated from inside her.
I knew why Peter had been with her and why my dad loved her more than anything else in the world. Peter was drawn in by her beauty on the outside. While my dad loved her for what she was.
Two men, both loving her in their own way. I couldn’t imagine losing both. Then I thought about Sam and Jack. Sam and I would never be together in that way, but his love for me reminded me of the love that my dad had for my mom. I wasn’t going to compare Jack to Peter that would be unfair, to say the least. Jack wasn’t his father’s son. He had shown me that with his tenderness toward me.
I couldn’t imagine that Peter was ever that way or was he?
“I was with Peter long after the pregnancy.”
“Mom, an affair?”
She touched the window. “No, your dad knew. I would see Peter once a month, he would fly in and I would leave with him, we spent time together at a house that he built just for me.”
I sucked in my breath and stood up. “The mansion?”
She turned back to nod at me. I felt my heart jump in my chest.
“Yes, he built that place for me and when you told me where Jack took you, it brought back so many memories. The house, the lake, the horses. It was like a magical place where the rest of the world just faded away.”
“I—I’m not sure what I should say here.”
She walked up to me and placed a hand on my face, I looked up into her eyes.
I parted my lips, and she hugged me. “Please, don’t be mad at me. I told your dad that he was free to be with whoever he wanted to be with, and I don’t know if he ever took advantage of it. We never talked about it, but he wasn’t a prisoner here, I promise that I didn’t force him to stay with me, he stayed because he wanted to.”
I closed my eyes and thought about dad and the strange relationship that he had with my mom. I had grown up thinking that they were the perfect couple. Strong, respectful, together forever with no arguments. In fact, they never argued, not once.
I let her go and stepped back from her. “I—I just had no idea that you had an open relationship, I would have never guessed that in a million years.”
She looked down and then back up to me. “We just wanted you to be happy, that’s all, honey. You mattered, most of all.”
“You two didn’t—I mean, stay together because of me, right?”
She shook her
head and touched my face. “Oh no, no honey. I loved your dad. I did. It was just a different type of love. The love that I felt for Peter was like fire, my love for your dad was like water. Calm seas. He made me feel safe. He felt like home.”
I nodded to her. I understood, completely. I loved two men the same way. I loved Jack with an unbridled passion, sometimes it resembled lust more than love but I craved it, like a drug. I couldn’t live without it. I loved Sam, and it felt like home. Comforting and safe. Sam was to me what my dad was to my mom. I could understand why I needed both Sam and Jack in my life.
It brought me balance and happiness.
I wasn’t even sure if one could exist without the other. It was true for my mom. She had hung on to Peter Landon and married my dad.
I would not do the same thing, it wasn’t my destiny to marry Sam for safety and hold onto Jack for danger.
She turned back and looked at the dress that hung from the door.
“I think that I should buy a second dress, they both deserve their own.”
I nodded as she turned back to me and hugged me once again.
“I am so proud of you, Abi. I’ve always been proud of you, and so was your dad.”
I sank into her arms and accepted her words as truth. Feeling like I knew her more now than I ever had in my entire life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
BURYING THE PAST
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I tried on the dress and stood there in the stores dressing room. I turned and inspected the way that it fit me. It hugged my hips, my legs, squared my shoulders. I had dropped a size, but with my mom’s help I was slowly getting back to my normal weight.
I didn’t have an eating problem. I had just lost my appetite, as most people do when they grieve. His loss affected me on a level that I couldn’t easily explain. In fact, my Jack file on my laptop was a mixture of broken thoughts and cryptic dreams. I had spent weeks after the incident at his house, writing everything that I felt into it. I had yet to read all of it, someday, maybe.
I heard a soft knock on my door, so I opened it up, and my mom stood there in a black dress, hat, and veil. She looked like she came straight out of a movie in the 1940s. She was stunning, even dressed in black.
